The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)(51)

I lower the bottle from my mouth. “Connection?”

He pats the back pocket of his jeans where my birth certificate is tucked away. “This is where my guy is.”

I stare at the rotting wooden door. “Your guy lives in Bradon’s pool house?”

“No, he just chills here a lot.”

“Um, okay.”

“It’s not as sketchy as it sounds.”

“Good. Because it sounds pretty damn sketchy.”

“I would never let anything happen to you.” He drapes his arm around my shoulders and I get a whiff of his whiskey breath. “Remember the cave?”

It takes me a moment or two to sort through my beer-laced thoughts and figure out what he’s talking about. Back when we hung out, we found this hollowed out tree that we nicknamed ‘the cave’, where nothing bad could ever happen to us.

“When I’m in the cave, my sister Hannah and my mom can’t see me,” I said as I slid inside the hollow trunk. “And maybe my dad can.”

“When I’m in the cave, I get to be me,” Kai said as he ducked in behind me. “No one else, including my mom or dad, can try to make me be anyone else.”

“And we have to promise never to tell anyone about this place.” I hugged my knees to my chest to make room for his gangly legs.

He bent awkwardly until he fit inside. “It’s a deal.”

“Cross your heart.” I traced an X across my heart. “Hope to die. Stick a needle in Hannah’s eye.”

He laughed at me and sketched an X across his chest. “I promise.”

“I wonder if the tree’s still there,” I say with a trace of a smile.

“It is,” Kai assures me, averting his gaze from mine.

“How do you know?”

“Because I sometimes go there to think.”

“Really? That’s . . . kind of nice, I guess.”

He shrugs, staring at the ground. “You should also know that I sometimes get high there too.”

I crinkle my nose. “So you do get high?”

“Not for a while, but yeah, if we’re totally being honest, I did it a handful of times over the summer.”

“But you seemed so irritated over people accusing you of doing drugs.”

“I was irritated.” His jaw clenches. “I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through some shit, and it was the only way to clear my head.”

“Are you still going through some shit?” I blame the beer for asking the question.

His lips part to answer, but the door swings open, and relief washes over his face as he turns away from me.

“Kai, what’s up, man?” A large guy wearing a backwards baseball cap, netted shorts, and a stained white shirt stands in the doorway with his fist extended toward Kai.

Kai bumps knuckles with him. “Not much. Just came to see what’s been going on.”

“Not a whole fucking lot,” the guy replies, leaning against the doorway. “Business has been super fucking slow.”

“That sucks, man,” Kai says. “But I might have a little bit of business for you.”

“Really?” The guy rubs his goatee. “What kind of business are we talking about?”

Kai glances at me from the corner of his eye and the guy tracks his gaze. Even with the beer in my system, I still squirm as he scrutinizes me.

“Who’s your friend?” he asks Kai, giving a chin nod in my direction.

I shyly wave back.

“This is Isa.” Kai drags his hand over his head, tugging off his knitted cap. He ruffles his fingers through his hair, causing the strands to go askew. “She’s actually the one who’s in need of your ever-so-awesome services.”

“Is that so?” he asks thoughtfully.

I smile warily, unsure what to say. Kai hasn’t even told me who this guy is or what his services are, and it feels like I have a bundle of crazed-out monkeys inside my tummy.

“She cool?” he asks Kai, straightening his stance.

“Yep. I’ll even vouch for her,” Kai says, crossing his arms.

Okay, I don’t care what he says. Kai is so in the mafia.

The guy mulls it over a second or two then sticks out his hand toward me. “Isa, I’m Big Doug.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Big Doug.” I take his hand and shake it, hoping he doesn’t lick me like Bradon did.

“My pleasure. My pleasure.” His hand dwarfs mine as he gives it a soft squeeze. Then he pulls away, moves back, and motions for us to come inside. “Welcome to my paradise.”

Big Doug’s paradise consists of four brick walls, a floor cluttered with boxes, old candy wrappers, and soda cans, and a table covered in computer screens, wires, modems, and all sorts of electronic stuff I know I’ve never seen before.

“Are you a hacker or something?” I don’t mean to say it aloud, and I slap my hand over my mouth, worried I’ve crossed a line.

Luckily, Big Doug seems fine with it. “Hacking’s just one of my talents.” He waddles over to the table, kicking trash out of the way. Facing us, he sits down on the edge of the table. “But the question is . . . what talent do you want? Because I got a lot. All cost money, of course. I take cash or credit, depending on how well I know you.”