SNEAK PEEK: Trust Me, I'm Lying

The Geek Job

“Julep!” Sam shouts as he flies through the door.

I realize what I must look like, sitting next to garbage with my back against the battered cabinets, holding a gun. Before his eyes find me, I set the gun on the floor behind me. I’m not trying to hide it, but a person can only take so many shocks at once.

When he sees me on the floor, he rushes over.

“Are you okay?”

“I said as much on the phone, Sam.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“You really know how to compliment a girl.”

He tries to pull me to my feet, but I don’t let him. First, because there’s really nowhere else to go. Second, well, I’m not sure my legs will hold me just yet. He sits down next to me instead.

“You know what I mean,” he says.

I pull my knees in closer. I could still call the police, I suppose, but I know I won’t.

“Is this like last time?”

I shake my head. But it’s a fair question. This isn’t the first time my dad’s disappeared.

When I was thirteen, I came home from school one day, finished my homework, made myself my standard mac-and-cheese dinner of champions, and watched five hours of television before I realized my dad wasn’t coming home that night. Nor did he come home the following night, or the night after that. No note, no call, nothing.

I was petrified. But when I told Sam, he assured me that if my dad didn’t come back, he and his parents would take me in. Just having that safety net calmed my panic. My dad eventually came back, two weeks of peanut butter sandwiches later. He’s never really explained where he was, but I got the impression it had to do with a job that went bad.

At the time, I was angry with him for scaring me. But looking back, I’m certain he was trying to protect me from someone who might have tried to hurt me or use me against him. Had I been him, I’d have done the same thing. Still, everything changed after that. Or rather, I changed. I no longer wanted my father’s life.

But this disappearance is different. This time someone’s destroyed our apartment.

“He’s still not answering his cell?”

“I haven’t tried again since calling you,” I admit. “But I called seventeen times. If he hasn’t answered by now, he’s not going to.”

“His circumstances might change,” Sam says, choosing his words carefully. I appreciate the tact, but let’s call it as we see it, shall we?

“Look at this place, Sam.” I gesture at the mess. “This is not the work of his usual kind of mark. This is something else.”

Sam scans the room, shoving shards of a plate out of the way with his foot.

“Well, you can’t stay here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say. A flash of fear spikes through me as I realize he might out me to the cops. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

“Julep, you aren’t actually considering staying here—”

“Of course I am. He might call or come back.”

“But—”

“Sam, please. You can’t tell anyone or I’ll get shipped off to some foster farm. No more St. Aggie’s.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes I’m right.

“You still can’t stay here,” he says after a pause. “You can stay with us.”