Darling Rose Gold(28)

I walked back to my register. At least I could make it harder for him to stare at me. I scanned the registers to make sure Scott wasn’t lurking. I checked my phone. No texts.

I put my phone back in the register cubby, then started when I realized the man was now examining the items I’d just arranged in my kiosk. Was this guy an alien? He was handling a pack of gum as if it were a precious valuable. I didn’t acknowledge him, but he kept stealing glances at me. Enough was enough.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, decidedly unaccommodating. I hoped he could tell I was annoyed.

He dropped the pack of gum he was holding, then put it back on the kiosk. He walked over and placed a bottle of Diet Pepsi on the conveyor belt.

“This is it?”

He nodded and cleared his throat, staring at my name tag. He fidgeted.

“Rose Gold,” he said.

I nodded, losing patience, heart starting to pound. I steeled myself for more humiliation—I wouldn’t let him off the hook like I had Alex, Brandon, and all the others.

He paused, considering something. The color had drained from his face. “I’m Billy Gillespie,” he said, emphasizing his name and offering me his hand.

I watched him, confused.

He squinched his eyes and pulled his hand back. “Billy Gillespie,” he said. He pronounced his name like a secret password to a hidden grotto. Billy Gillespie seemed to expect me to know him. I frowned and scanned the Diet Pepsi to break the awkwardness.

“Cash or credit?” I asked.

Billy Gillespie held up his credit card and swiped it in the reader. He sighed. “You don’t know who I am.”

I shook my head and turned to the receipt printer, glad for something to do. I handed him the piece of paper. “Do you need a bag?”

“No, thanks,” Billy Gillespie said, getting tomato cheeks when some customers walked by us. “Listen, can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

By now my curiosity had evolved into alarm.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m on the clock.” I crossed my arms. The man didn’t seem like a threat, but why was he being so weird?

Billy Gillespie looked like he wanted to say more, but instead let his shoulders sag in defeat. “Okay, I understand.” I watched him trudge toward the door. He peeked back at me once, then was gone.

I rang up another customer and racked my brain for any Billy Gillespies I should have remembered. I was positive I’d never heard of him.

After the customer left, the sliding-glass doors opened again. Billy Gillespie was marching back through them, now heading toward me.

“If I could have five minutes of your time—,” he pleaded before I could cut him off.

“Do I need to get my manager involved?” I said, trying to sound brave.

Billy Gillespie put his arms up in surrender and started rambling. “I didn’t want to do it like this, but okay. The thing is, I’m pretty sure I’m your father.”

My jaw fell open. Of all the nutjobs that had stopped me, none had gone this far.

I raised my voice. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

Billy Gillespie was mortified. “Your mother is Patty Watts, right?”

Anyone who lived within thirty miles of Deadwick and read the newspaper knew that.

“My dad died before I was born,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You’re twenty, right? Born around February nineteen ninety-four?”

I stared at Billy in alarm and tried to remember whether any of the articles had stated my birthday. I’d memorized most of them—I was pretty sure they hadn’t. Still, he could’ve found that information online.

“You should get out of here, or I’ll have to call security.” My voice sounded squeaky and pathetic.

“How do you know your dad died?” he asked.

“Please, go,” I said, not looking at him anymore.

Billy Gillespie slipped his hand into the back pocket of his khakis and pulled out a photo, folded in half. He opened it and smoothed it out. He held it up for me to see, jabbed at the people in it. “See?” he said, handing it to me.

I was about to summon Robert, the bulky security guard, who was already watching us with interest, trying to figure out whether he needed to intervene. Then I saw Mom’s face in the photo.

She was twenty years younger and smiling at a young Billy Gillespie.

“Everything okay, Rose Gold?” Robert said behind me.

“Where did you get this?” I whispered.

“I’m telling the truth,” Billy Gillespie said sadly. “Now will you talk to me?”

I scanned the store floor. Would anyone notice I was gone? I checked my watch. “I’m good, Robert,” I said to the security guard. “Five minutes,” I told Billy Gillespie. I followed him out of the store.

We stood on the curb. I hugged my arms across my chest. “What do you want?” I said.

He looked surprised. “I don’t want anything. I just thought this was the right thing to do.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“My mom had lots of friends before she went to prison,” I said. “All this photo proves is you knew her when the two of you were young.” I realized I was still clutching the photo and tried to hand it back.

“Look closer,” Billy said.