Lies I Told(35)

“Yes, he’s a good kisser,” I sighed. “Now can we drop it?”

“Fine.” She emerged from the dressing room again, this time wearing a navy blouse with a mandarin collar. “Better?”

I nodded my approval. “Much.”

We spent two more hours trolling stores in the mall before stopping for lunch at a faux Italian bistro. Logan texted me, telling me that he couldn’t wait to see me on Monday, and I spent the rest of the day with my pulse running a little faster, caught up in a manic euphoria while I counted the hours until I could see him again.

But when I woke up Monday morning, all my optimism was gone. Dawn cast too bright a light on my excitement. I had work to do, especially now that I had a reason to be at the Fairchild house. I couldn’t afford to be sidetracked. It was okay that it felt good to be with Logan. I couldn’t help that. But I had to be disciplined, put it aside so that I could focus on my part of the job. It was easier to accept with some space between us, without the fresh memory of his mouth on mine, the way he seemed to see all my secrets and not care at all.

I was digging through my dresser, looking for a belt, when I saw the small wooden memento box at the back of the drawer. Paranoia and guilt had gotten the better of me, and I’d returned the ID card from Chandler High to the box at the end of last week. Now I lifted the box out of the drawer and opened the lid, looking down at the card.

Carrying it was dangerous. Worse than dangerous; it was stupid. Because it didn’t change anything. Didn’t make real the life I’d led in Arizona, despite my feelings to the contrary. But now I wanted it for a different reason. Not to make real the life I’d led there, but to remind me why I’d been there in the first place. To remind me why we went anywhere. Not to make friends. Not to fall in love.

To con people out of their money. To sustain a lifestyle that, while strange, was all I had. All I knew.

I lifted the ID out of the box, slipped it into the pocket of the short floral dress I’d bought with Selena, and headed downstairs to meet up with Parker for school.

He greeted me with a tight “hey” and we headed to the Saab. I wasn’t surprised by his attitude. I’d known it was coming ever since my revelation in the War Room that Logan and I were official. Parker wouldn’t say anything about it in front of our parents—not after his last altercation with my dad. But we would be alone on the drive to school. I knew the questions were coming.

We’d barely pulled away from the curb when he started up. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “About Logan?”

I sighed. “We were outside the War Room when I came home. I was just being careful.”

“You could have told me you were official. It’s not a breach in and of itself.”

I glanced over at him. “No, but this is,” I said softly.

“We’re in the car.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter.” I couldn’t even say it was against the rules. Not out loud.

“Whatever.”

“Why are you acting like this?” I asked.

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. “I just don’t want you to feel . . . pressured.”

“Pressured?”

“To do anything you don’t want to do.”

I turned my face to the window. How could I tell him that I’d felt pressured to do everything up until I’d met Logan? That getting to know Logan was the one thing I’d done because I wanted to?

“It’s not like that,” I said, trying to be cryptic. “He’s a perfect gentleman. It’s not like he’s going to pressure me into doing anything.”

Parker turned into the school parking lot. “It’s not him I’m worried about.”

I knew he was talking about our parents, but there was only so much I could say outside the War Room. “No one’s pressuring me. I’m just . . . getting to know him, that’s all.”

“Whatever, Grace.”

He pulled into our regular spot next to Logan’s BMW and got out of the car, walking past Rachel without a word. She watched him go, a mixture of surprise and annoyance on her face. He hadn’t even acknowledged her.





Twenty-Seven


I was still rattled when I slid into my desk in AP Euro. Parker was on the edge. More on the edge than I’d seen him since he was first adopted into the family. He was always volatile. But he was also smart. Everything he did was calculated, even the bad stuff, the scary stuff.

This was different.

I had the feeling even Parker didn’t know what he would do next. That he was operating purely on impulse, his anger and resentment dictating everything he said and did. Dangerous for anyone on the grift, but most dangerous of all for Parker.

And for those of us in it with him.

I told myself he was just overworked. He needed a break, but he would hold it together until after the Playa Hermosa con. I was sure of it. I slipped a hand into my pocket, fingering the ID card. It’s just a job, I thought. Just another job.

“Where was the fire this morning?” Rachel said, taking her seat.

I looked up, taking in the artfully messy braid, the barely there makeup, the casual-chic ankle pants.

“Fire?” I repeated.

“Someone was in a hurry,” she said. “Parker looked pissed.”