Page 142 of The Fake Out

“That rat,” she huffed, only slightly quieter. “Are you willing to help me hide a body?”

She sounded a lot more serious than I was comfortable with. But, at the very least, it would be justifiable homicide as far as I was concerned. I would totally be a character witness at her trial.

“Will you make sure Chris knows about this?”

“You know what? I sure will. I’m doing it in person. He has a pre-season game tomorrow in Atlanta. Afterward, he’s giving his first press conference since the television interview. Doug is with him. Don’t worry, I’ll get him.” The thread of violence in her voice convinced me she was not lying.

“Good.” I hesitated. “How is he? Chris?”

“He’s… okay.”

“Great. Good. Okay is good.”

Piper barked a laugh. “You two are something else. Did you get the photos I sent you?”

“Those were from you? Thank you. I love them.”

And him. I love him. I love him so much; it hurts not to see him. I thought of Ollie and his lost love. I thought about spending the rest of my life in Two Harts pining for someone who never even knew how I felt about him. I thought about all the plans I’d made and how maybe just this once it was time to do something spontaneous. Even if it was terrifying.

Because living life without Chris was even scarier.

“Piper, do you think you could get me into that press conference?”

SIXTY-FIVE

Life without you is a broken pencil. Pointless.

—JULIA B.

I didn’t have a plan.

Word had spread fast through the Two Harts’ grapevine that Mae Sampson was flying to Atlanta to profess her undying love to Chris Sterns. And once that got out, the whole town ascended on the library like Target shoppers on Black Friday.

“What is going on?” I asked no one in particular.

“They’re here for you, idiot,” Ali said.

Mrs. Katz glared at me over the top of her glasses. “You think we’re going to let you do this on your own?”

Alright then.

It quickly became apparent that next-day plane tickets cost the earth. Even worse, the only flight with an available seat got to Atlanta by way of Newark and took over seven hours.

“Should I be doing this?” I asked, again to no one in particular. “It’s so expensive.”

At least five different people yelled, “Yes!” including my own mother.

“Folks,” Horace said, “we’re taking up donations. We need eleven hundred dollars to get Mae to Atlanta.”

In less than an hour, the money had been donated, and the ticket bought.

The next morning, after very little sleep, Sue, Mama, and Iris dropped me off at the airport.

Mama hugged me tightly. “Remember halfway to brave is scared.”

That was good news, since I was terrified. Never mind seeing Chris. I had to get through the plane ride on my own.

For the first leg of the trip, I sat next to a mother traveling alone with her two-year-old and six-month-old children. She’d purchased two seats for the three of them and it became apparent this poor woman was in way over her head. Which was how I ended up bottle-feeding a baby.