The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Thirty-Nine
June 8
I wake up feeling anxious about seeing Ethan again. I wasn’t expecting him yesterday and haven’t properly planned how I will ask him about Max. The way I see it, I have three options:
- Ask him directly.
- Trick him into telling me
- Trick Celine into asking him, which I should’ve thought of before he got here
If I ask him, he can say no, and that’s that; I’m stuck. If I trick him, that’s all fine and dandy, but how do I even go about doing that? I have no idea. I can pretend I’m curious and what? Hope he’ll just say, ‘Oh, yes, it’s my friend Max from two houses down the road. Let me introduce you to him.’ That sounds stupid, and I’m not manipulative enough to get that out of him. Even considering how I sneaked my way into her life under false pretenses, using Celine is too low.
It sounded simple when I flew here, but now that I’m faced with two actual people…
I don’t even leave my room and risk waking them up. Instead, I call Alisa.
“He’s here,” I whisper.
“What?” she asks so loudly, I’m afraid they’ll hear from the other rooms.
“Don’t yell. They’re still asleep.”
“Who?”
“Celine and Ethan.”
“Oh, the maestro. How is he? Just like you imagined? What’s the plan?”
“Easy on the interrogation. And no, he’s definitely not how I imagined.”
“Give me details. I’m dying here.”
“Remember the photo we saw online?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there’s no beard, no glasses, longish black hair, and these eyes that stare you down no matter where you are—”
Alisa laughs hysterically. “Like Mona Lisa?”
I laugh too. “Yes. Like that.”
“OK, what else?”
“A massive tattoo of a bird of some sort, with large wings on both his arms. And by the way, he looks like a gym buff. He’s all muscle.”
“Give me an actor, something to work with here. Because right now, I’m picturing that tattooed guy that keeps popping up on Instagram. The one with the beard and the tattoos.”
“I told you, no beard. Actor? I don’t know. Gerard Butler?”
She laughs again. “What you’re basically saying is that the frog is actually a hot prince?”
“No! And he’s married, for God’s sake. I don’t think of him in those terms.”
“What terms? Gerard Butler, hello. Are you from another planet?”
As much as Alisa amuses me, it bothers me that I thought he was handsome before I knew who he was. Very handsome. I’m doing my best not to think about it.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore. He’s Max’s married friend, and he’s a thief. We don’t like him, remember?”
“Sure, we don’t like him. So when are you asking Mr. Butler about Max?”
“Stop calling him that. And I don’t know. Soon. I just met him last night. Plus, I’m living in his house and working for his sister. When she finds out I did all this just to talk to him, I’ll be without a place to live or source of income.”
“Maybe. Unless you come clean. It’s not like you wanted to hurt her or lie to her.”
“But why did I go through all this charade only to tell her the truth after three days?”
Silence. “You’re asking me? That was your crazy idea.”
That’s true. It was. I could’ve just come to the café every day. And maybe today I would’ve met him and there would’ve been no need for all the lies. Patience. When will I learn?
“I could talk to him and ask him not to tell her,” I say.
“You’re digging yourself a hole you won’t be able to climb out of.”
“Then I don’t tell him the truth either and just get Max’s details some other way.”
“What other way? Using a psychic?” asks Alisa.
“No, funny girl, still from him, but not just straight-out asking for Max’s real name.”
“Complicating things again.”
“I don’t want to. I’m just afraid he’ll say no, and then what do I do?”
“But he could say yes.”
“Would you say yes? And remember that girl’s email? He doesn’t divulge his sources.”
Alisa sighs. “You’re in a pickle.”
“I’m at the bottom of a massive jar of pickles,” I say.
“Why don’t you wait to read the book then, maybe you’ll get some clues, and in the meantime, I guess, get to know Ethan? Maybe Max is still in his group of friends and one thing will lead to another, and you’ll meet him.”
“That’d be nice. Too wrapped up with a pretty bow, but nice. Any news on the book?”
“I should be getting it today or tomorrow. I’ll ship it overnight to you. Don’t do anything rash. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, promise?”
“Promise.”