The Almost Truth (4 page)

I
parked my scooter in the free lot near the ferry dock. I had the change from the grocery, but that wasn’t going to get me very far. I needed money, and this wasn’t the time to go straight and get a second part-time job. I ducked into a 7-Eleven that smelled like boiled hot dogs and used the money I had to buy twelve Hershey’s bars.

I didn’t have time to do things right. I usually printed up paper bands that I could wrap around the chocolate bars to make them look more official, but I was going to have to work with what I had tonight. I ducked into the bathroom and made sure my hair looked good and that I didn’t have mascara smeared under my eyes from crying. Looking wholesome was critical to my plan.

Armed with the candy bars, I stepped back outside and looked over my options. The Four Seasons Hotel was nearby.
As I drew closer, I knew I’d hit the jackpot. There was a group of businesspeople in the lobby, a sea of gray and black suits. Perfect. I plastered a smile on my face and headed toward a cluster of men while keeping an eye out for any hotel employees.

“Hello!” I gave them a small wave. “My name is Molly, and I’m a member of the debate team at West Seattle High.” I’d found with the business crowd, debate was the best draw. Among an arty crowd, I pretended to be either with the band or in the performing arts. At a sports bar, I went with being either a cheerleader or on the girl’s basketball team. The trick to any good con is to know your audience.

“We’re trying to raise money to go to state competitions in the fall. Would you consider buying a chocolate bar to help us out?” I held out one bar to the group of suits with another of my perky, future corporate leader of America smiles.

One guy was already pulling out his wallet. “Can’t argue with teaching kids critical thinking. Unless they’re my kids, of course. I could use a little less debate at home.” Everyone laughed, and I joined in like I thought he was stand-up comic kind of funny. “How much?”

“The candy bars are five dollars,” I said.

“All right, give me two.”

I passed him two of the candy bars, which had cost me far less than five bucks, with a smile and pocketed the profit. Two others bought one each, and I moved on to the next group. I managed to sell another five before the front desk clerk seemed
to start tracking my movements. I left the hotel before she could have one of the bell staff approach me.

I got lucky. Right across the street from the hotel there were a group of college kids outside a bar. I jaywalked over to them and shared how I was trying to raise money for our school to host a battle of the bands competition. I was able to sell the rest of my candy bars in less than five minutes.

It was starting to rain. I ducked into a Starbucks. I ordered a medium black coffee in a large cup and then poured milk in up to the top, the cheap woman’s latte. I folded myself into one of the large, worn wingback chairs sprinkled around the room. I grabbed a section of the paper from the rack and opened it on my lap to advertise I was busy and wasn’t interested in chatting up any strangers.

I did the math quickly in my head. The candy bars had cost me just under fifteen dollars and I’d sold them for sixty, clearing forty-five dollars in less than thirty minutes. It was better money than I made working as a waitress at the hotel, but I was going to have to sell cases of candy bars if I was going to come up with the thousands I needed to send Berkeley for my deposit by August first. I bit my lip to keep from crying again. I forced myself to take a deep breath. I wasn’t prepared to roll over and give up.

In theory, my mom was right. I could take classes at one of the community colleges in Seattle or try getting into the University of Washington. The hotel would keep me on for work. If the restaurant was slow, then the cleaning crew could always use another maid.

Between working at the hotel and pulling some extra cons here and there, I would be able to squirrel away enough money to go the following year. I could worry about what I would need for the rest of my time there once I was in. Berkeley would likely let me delay my admission a year with no trouble.

Logic said waiting a year was an option, but my heart started to beat faster when I thought about it. I knew that if I didn’t go now, I would never go. One year would become two, and then three. Then I’d be offered shift supervisor in the restaurant, which would mean extra money, so I’d tell myself how I would go back to school the next term, but I wouldn’t. I’d end up marrying Brendan, because after all, he was there and asking and who was I to be so picky? We’d have a couple of kids who would be teased in school for not having any money the same way we were, and Brendan and I would fight over stupid things like who drank the last of the milk or how to pay for car repairs, and the big event in our lives would be if we decided to upgrade our cable package. I’d be one of those people who talked about all the things I was going to do someday, all while everyone around me didn’t bother listening because they knew I wouldn’t.

I pulled the
MISSING
flyer out of my pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles. I took time to read the whole thing this time.

MISSING

Ava McKenna (age 3) went missing fifteen years ago on July 30 from the Keppler Hotel. A photo of how
she may look now is below. A reward of $250,000 is offered for any information leading to her recovery.

A phone number and website were listed on the bottom of the sheet. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. My mind started to spin. Was there a way to use the fact that I looked like the photo? I didn’t look exactly like the picture, but I was close, and with a bit of a makeover I could look even closer. I didn’t need the whole quarter of a million; I’d settle for ten thousand of it. All I needed to do was find the missing Ava.

Or convince them I was Ava.

I
took the last ferry home after having stayed in the coffee shop until it closed and they basically kicked me out. I slipped into my room without talking to my mom. I’d seen the sliver of light under her door when I came in, but I didn’t want to talk to her. I’d completely forgotten I was scheduled to work the next day until my alarm went off.

I preferred to work the main hotel restaurant called the Palms, but today I was stuck in the banquet hall. There was a lunch buffet for the women attending the makeup sales convention.

The point of a buffet is people are supposed to eat the food that is provided on the buffet. It isn’t a complex concept. However, it was clear the makeup ladies were not familiar with this radical dining idea. They would pull me over to the table and ask if they could get a sandwich without any mayo? Could I be a dear and check
in the back to see if there was a raspberry vinaigrette for the salad? They didn’t care for the dressing that was on the buffet. Could someone bring them a small bowl of that fabulous clam chowder they had yesterday with dinner? I managed to avoid tossing soup at anyone, or screaming that I wasn’t getting tipped so they could stick their no-mayo sandwich where the sun didn’t shine.

I could tell my hair was starting to frizz, because there were pieces that had escaped the regulation bun and were stuck to my sweating forehead. I had soup spilled on my black pants and a splash of the requested raspberry vinaigrette on my shirt. Waiting tables was not a glamorous job. I was struggling to carry a full coffee urn to the coffee station in the corner of the banquet hall when someone reached around me and took it from my hands. Brendan smiled and winked.

“So, are you going to take out the empty one, or do you want me to stand here holding this all day?”

His voice jolted me out of my surprise. “What are you doing here?” I looked around to make sure no one had noticed him. I yanked the empty urn out of the holder so Brendan could put the full one in its place. He hefted it into the holder as if it weighed nothing.

“Most people would just say thank you,” Brendan said. “I’m here because you left me a bunch of messages last night saying you wanted me.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t say anything about wanting you. I said I wanted to talk, and I only left one message.”

“You made at least two other calls. I saw your number come up.” Brendan backed up so one of the ladies could reach the coffee urn. “Here, allow me.” He poured a cup and passed it gallantly to her. She took it, flushing, her other hand fiddling with her pearls.

I waited until she walked away. “If you saw my number, why didn’t you pick up?”

“You know what they say: Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He ran his finger gently down the side of my face. I whacked it away.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Brendan laughed. Being in trouble was a natural state to him. “So what? You’re going to quit in a few weeks anyway. Why not go out with a bang? How about I throw you up on the dessert table and we go at it in front of this crowd? I bet these ladies have a freaky side.” Brendan took a step closer, as if he were about to hoist me up on top of the cheesecake slices.

“I might not be quitting. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

Brendan’s face dropped the smirk. “Is everything okay?”

I caught the eye of Mr. Stein, the banquet manager. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. “Shit. I have to go. I’m off in an hour. Meet me at the cove?”

“Of course.” Brendan grabbed my elbow before I walked away. “I would have called back right away if I knew you needed me. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I grabbed the empty urn and headed back to the kitchen before Mr. Stein was motivated to give me his standard lecture on the importance of having a good work ethic, and that he didn’t get promoted to manager by chitchatting with his friends while on the clock.

Brendan could frustrate me faster than any person alive, but I never doubted for a minute that he would be there for me. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in my life. Our dads had met in jail. Now, there was a charming story we could tell the grandkids if we ever married. Brendan had been my friend since we were toddlers, which is why I never should have slept with him.

Brendan had many challenges in his life, but the two advantages he had in his favor were that he was tremendously good-looking and that he obviously had that whole “bad boy” charm going for him. He wasn’t shy about using either of these to get what he wanted. By eleventh grade he’d slept with not only every girl in our class, but also most of the summer girls who visited the hotel. It was the combination of his dark curly hair, which he let grow a bit wild, his half smile that showed his chipped front tooth, and his ability to smooth talk anyone with the sound of his voice that worked like magic.

I was most likely the only one who didn’t sleep with him because of his charm. I slept with him because he could make me laugh, and because I didn’t want to go to college as a virgin. I didn’t want to be a virgin, but I wasn’t desperate enough to sleep
with anyone else in our class or some random summer guest. They say the first time is fairly dismal, so it made sense to get it over with someone I liked, and I wouldn’t look back on with horror. Plus, there was the advantage that with all his practice, Brendan would know what he was doing. What had surprised me was that Brendan didn’t immediately agree. I’d had to talk him into the plan.

Brendan had insisted that if we were going to do it, it had to be somewhere special. Of course, given the state of our finances, it had to be somewhere special on a budget. We’d gone camping up in the woods. Brendan had decked out the tent with a lantern and loads of quilts and blankets so we wouldn’t freeze. It was early May, but it was still too cold to be sleeping outside. He’d packed a picnic for us and insisted that we have dinner before starting.

“So should I take my clothes off?” I’d motioned to my T-shirt. “I brought condoms too, in case you didn’t have any.”

“Where’s the romance?” Brendan had asked, wiping the last of the red velvet cake from his mouth.

I’d rolled my eyes at him. “Aren’t you the one who says romance is the ultimate con?” I poked him in the stomach. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I’ve already agreed to sleep with you. Heck, I’m the one who asked you. Think of it as a favor for a friend. And if you want romance, condoms scream romance. It’s the gift that says, ‘I care enough to make sure you don’t get some kind of disease or end up knocked up.’ See? I’ve got both your practical and romantic sides covered.”

Brendan had shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure you want to do this? The first time is sort of a big deal.”

“Can you even remember the name of the first girl you slept with?” I’d asked. I was getting nervous the more we talked about it.

“It’s different for girls,” Brendan had said.

“Maybe for some girls. I’ve never been the type to write my name in a heart with a guy’s. I don’t save flowers from dances or any of that overemotional stuff. This is something I just want to get over with. It’s bad enough I’m the last virgin in our class. I don’t plan to be the only one at college.”

“You’re not the last virgin in our class.”

“Yes, let’s not forget there’s also Tina, who weighs at least three hundred pounds, and Derek, who wears that T-shirt about Jesus being his best friend. Great company I’m in.”

“Lots of people stay virgins. You don’t need to worry about what other people think or are doing. You’re not as tough and cynical as you want people to believe, you know.”

“You’re not going to turn all Dr. Phil on me, are you?” I leaned back against a pile of quilts.

“I just think it should be something special.” Brendan shrugged.

“You realize how that sounds coming out of your mouth, right?” I’d sighed and rolled over so I could crawl out of the tent. “Forget it. If you don’t want to do it, we won’t.”

“What, you’re going to find someone else?”

“No, Brendan, if you won’t sleep with me, then I intend to
save myself until marriage. Or perhaps I’ll join a nunnery instead and give up the idea of sex altogether.”

I moved closer to the door flap. The whole plan was stupid. I suddenly felt embarrassed, and I wanted to get out of there. Brendan grabbed my wrist before I could leave. He pulled me back and kissed me deeply.