The Pale: Volume One, Jacob Long [best beach reads TXT] 📗

until the bathroom door was closed and the shower was on, and then immediately opened Téa’s Facebook page. The program filled Téa’s e-mail address into the blank for him. Adam had only to guess Téa’s password. After a brief moment of thought, Adam typed in “wincestgurl” and hit the Enter key. He was connected to Téa’s account in a flash.

“Some things never change,” Adam muttered.

He clicked in the blank to search for people, places, and things, and in the space he typed “Christina Flores.” A few Christina Floreses showed up in a list from all over the world, but none of them were his Christina Flores. This puzzled Adam. He knew Christina had a Facebook page before he died, and he didn’t have the faintest clue why she would ever take it down. Then the answer dawned on him. A grimace congealed on his face at the thought, and he begrudgingly typed in “Christina Lacey.” It didn’t take Adam long to find the Christina Lacey he was looking for after that. When he clicked on her profile, he was assailed by all kinds of horrid images depicting her and her beloved husband in loving wedded bliss.

Adam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Came out of nowhere, this guy,” he breathed.

Adam clicked a few more times to get at Christina’s more private information. Luckily, Téa and Christina were friends. This made Christina’s likes and interests available but not her address, of course.

Adam seemed out of luck, but then he noticed that twelve of Téa’s 112 “friends” were online. He clicked on the icon and read down the list. The fourth name down . . . was his mother’s.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and a cold sweat broke out on his face. It was a perfect chance to talk to his mother and find out where Christina lived at the same time. He took a deep breath to calm himself and organize his thoughts. He had to imitate Téa’s mannerisms.

Adam typed, “Hiya, Mrs. rod.”

Moments passed, and then a reply was posted. “Hey, baby! It so good to hear from you! How have you been?”

Adam smiled. His mom always used good conventions, even on Facebook.

“hows life?” he typed.

“Always good when one of my girls sends me a message. How are you? I haven’t heard from you in so long!”

“im cool. u sure ur OK?”

“I’m fine, baby, really. Why do you ask?”

“no reason.”

Adam was idle for a moment. His concern probably seemed a little unwarranted after five years. He didn’t have much time until Téa finished with her shower, so he switched gears and typed a new subject in. “i was wondering if you had Chrissys street address still?”

“Honey, clean up your typing,” Adam’s mother responded. “You were doing so well before.”

Adam paused with his fingers floating over the keys. “Sorry. So do you have it?”

“Forgot it? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. How long has it been since you two have hung out? Do you even have her number anymore?”

Adam rolled his eyes. Téa really was going to get the business from his mom when she went to get his clothes. “Yeah, I probably haven’t hung out with her as much as I should have. Sorry.”

Some time passed where Adam simply waited. Finally, his mother responded, “Well, she’s at 102 35th St. Are you going to go see her?”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Rod! I think I am going to see her sometime soon, yeah.”

“That’s great, sweetie! Let me know! I would love to have a girls’ night out!”

Adam paused to think. He knew speaking too much for Téa would make his meddling that much more obvious when they talked, but he wanted Téa to be close to his family. “Sure, Mrs. Rod. I’ll try to keep in touch better too.” Adam heard the shower turn off. “I gotta go, Mrs. Rod. I’ll see you soon!”

“Sure, sweetie. Have a good day!” Adam’s mother responded.

“You too.”

Adam closed the window and hurriedly opened another one. He had to look like he was doing something that whole time, or Téa would be suspicious, so he typed in something else that interested him, “Harun El-Hashem.”

The first link the computer generated led him to the FBI’s website for the top ten most wanted men in the world. Adam’s “bro” had merited himself an invitation, and apparently, the other soldiers hadn’t managed to catch up with El-Hashem after he murdered Adam in the town square. That burned Adam. He sat back in the desk chair, glaring at the last known image of the Afghan drug lord. It was little more than a blurry screen capture from security footage in some far-off part of the world, but Adam could see it was his old enemy. That smug face fed Adam’s rage and indignation to the point of murderous hate.

“Who’s that?”

Adam jumped in his seat. He was so laser focused that he hadn’t heard Téa walk up behind him.

“Ooh! Sorry!” Téa giggled.

Adam turned to her to discover she was wrapped in only a bath towel. His eyes elevated just a little slowly from her dainty feet, up her legs, over the burgundy towel, and finally to her waiting eyes. “Uh . . . what?” Adam asked.

“Who’s that?”

Adam checked the face on the screen again, and then turned back to Téa, very confused. “You don’t know who that is?”

Téa shook her head.

Adam couldn’t believe it. “Did anyone ever explain to you how I died?”

“Not really. Why? Who is that?”

Adam thought, then scoffed and shook his head. “He’s just . . . the mission they said I was going to die in. They were going after him. Looks like I didn’t die for much.”

Téa nodded. “Huh. On your memorial page, it says you were shot during a combat patrol in uh . . . um, I don’t know, some foreign-sounding place.”

“I have a memorial page?”

“Mm-hmm. You should look yourself up.” Téa turned and walked briskly back to her room to get ready to leave. Adam watched as she pushed her door closed, but left just a crack. He mused at taking a peek but quickly caught himself. He’d been down that road once before with Téa, and it had gotten awkward before too long. He didn’t need that. He’d just been overseas too much.

Soon Téa emerged from her room freshly dressed in a much-too-large black hoodie with a flaming electric guitar on the back. Her jeans were torn in a couple visible places and a small book bag that she kept a bunch of maybe-useful junk in was slung over her shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to see about getting your stuff now,” Téa said as she breezed toward the front door. “Try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

With just those words, Téa was out the door, and Adam was alone. Her goodbye was definitely curt. She seemed on edge to Adam, like she needed to get out, but Adam chalked it up to their not-so-friendly exchange.

Téa got in her car and was quickly on the road. Hardly any time passed at all before she was using her car’s voice command. “Call Davy Truong,” she ordered.

“Calling Davy Truong on their mobile phone . . . Calling.”

The phone rang while Téa waited tensely, trying to keep herself calm by breathing shakily through her nose. It rang again and again, and suddenly Téa realized that she forgot her medication.

The ringing stopped, and David Truong’s voice came over the line. “Hey, you’ve reached the truest Truong. Leave your number at the beep!”

Téa slapped the console twice to end the call before the recorder started. “Fuck! Fuck!” she screamed on each impact. She wiped the sweat from her brow and was on the verge of hyperventilating. She didn’t know what was going to happen if Davy held a grudge against her for what Adam did. His brother was a notoriously heavy-handed drug dealer. She just needed to explain things. Well, her plan was to lie and say she never knew what happened. She could only hope that was enough.

Nearly shaking, Téa unzipped her backpack and fished around inside with one hand. In short order, she decided that it was taking too long and just upended the entire thing. Lots of small items spilled all over the passenger seat and floor, but she was relieved to see a bottle of pills most of all. After scooping it up and reading the label, she discovered it was a sedative, not an antianxiety, but it was something. Not wanting to be too messed up before seeing Adam’s mom, Téa twisted open the bottle and shook out just one of the three pills she had left. She popped it in her mouth and choked it down without any water. The effects weren’t immediate, but it felt good just to take a pill. She visibly relaxed and felt her heart rate calm.

“Breathe . . . just breathe.”

12

By the time Téa made it to the bluff part of Farol Verde, she was dismally sleepy. The large picturesque houses supported partially by stilts, built by the crazy and bought by the rich and crazy, passed by as a blur. Téa would blink and find that entire blocks disappeared. Soon her eyes opened, and she was sitting in the driveway of the Rodriguez family residence, wondering how long she’d been there. She briefly considered that it may be a bad idea to see Adam’s mom in that state, but at least her anxiety wasn’t acting up.

Téa pulled the door handle on her car door and shouldered it open. She moseyed up to the front door of the house with all the enthusiasm of a kid on the second day of school and pressed the doorbell with her body weight supported by her index finger.

Lena Rodriguez was still at her computer when she heard the door tone. Like she did on most quiet days, she checked her Facebook, tried to get some work done on the great American novel she had rattling around in her head, and then got to work on her day trading. Her husband’s wealth allowed for many investments in his life, and he’d done well. She’d taken it upon herself to continue that success as a form of income. It was all she really had to take pride in when she wasn’t taking trips to exotic sites or raising money for more causes. She put Ernesto’s name on each one, working tirelessly to make it synonymous with hope and charity.

That morning, Lena was dressed in jeans and a black blouse. Her curly black hair fell over her shoulders in neat ringlets. Despite her age, the years of privileged living, exfoliating treatments, healthy diet, and plenty of free time to exercise kept her skin looking relatively young.

The widow was always happy to have a visitor, so she stood straightaway and opened the door to be greeted by Téa’s young face.

Lena smiled. “Téa!”

Téa smiled back deliriously. “Hello, Mrs. Rodriguez!”

The two embraced each other briefly.

“Oh, it’s good to see you!” Lena tittered. “Ooh! But you look so tired!”

Téa giggled and shook her head. “You know what, Mrs. Rod? I feel tired.”

She beckoned Téa inside with a wave of her hand. “Well, come in! Come in! Have a seat on the couch. Relax!”

Téa looked at the couch like it was a delicious bowl of ice cream. “Sweet.” She made for it in a heartbeat, but then pulled herself back, rubbing her face and eyes furiously to fight away the sleepiness. “Wait! No! I . . . I came here for a reason, and I can’t really hang out.”

Lena was already fluffing up the throw pillows to make it as homey as possible. Téa smiled wryly at the woman’s fawning. She truly loved having visitors. She gave Téa a look that instantly made the girl feel guilty.

“Ohh, sweetie, really?” Lena asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Téa awkwardly scanned the immediate area. “No Christina today?”

Lena dismissed the concern with a limp-wristed gesture. “You know how hard it is to tear her away from that husband of hers.”

Téa shrugged. “If he were my husband, I’d probably have a hard time tearing myself away.”

Lena twisted her face up comically. “I know! He’s a dish!”

They giggled, and Téa was reminded that Mrs. Rodriguez was still a woman who was no stranger to loving men. In fact, at over fifty years old, she was probably quite the woman. Téa had gotten her heart broken a few