Devoured

Because most of what’s here in front of me was in that song, leaving me to wonder who the hell he wrote it about in the first place.

†

I lie to my grandmother about where I’m going.

It’s the third time this trip that I’ve deliberately lied to her, the third time I’ve let something dealing with Lucas make me be dishonest with the one person I’ve always been upfront with, and I feel like shit when I do. I convince myself that I’m doing this for her own good, and it’s better to let her believe something else entirely than to misinterpret the truth.

I’m taking the same approach with Tori. After I first agreed to go along with Lucas’s deal a few hours ago, I immediately picked up the phone to call her. As soon as she picked up, though, I froze. She’s been warning me since I arrived in Tennessee to avoid Lucas like the plague and sure enough, one of the first things she asked was if “Shithead” had been in touch again.

I told her he hasn’t but made a promise to myself that I’ll fill her in on everything that’s happened during this trip the moment I step foot off my flight home to California. At least then I’ll be able to explain the motives behind my decision face to face instead of over a bad connection.

“And you’re sure your boss needs you back already?” Gram asks me, gazing across the narrow trail at me.

I take a few more steps forward so I don’t have to meet her stare and let the cold wind slap me in the face before I continue with my story. “Just a little over a week. The other wardrobe girl has gotten ridiculously sick and it’s important for me to go back so nobody ends up jobless.”

It took me half an hour to come up with a story that made sense and couldn’t be easily ripped to shreds if Seth decided to stop being lazy and do some research. Once I had my lie prepared, it had taken me an additional forty-five minutes of practicing in front of my mirror so that I could sound convincing. Once I was prepared, I convinced Gram to take an early evening walk with me.

“That’s a shame they don’t have someone who’s willing to take both your places for a little while.”

I rush to reassure her. “It’s totally fine, Gram—it’s just that wardrobe is such a picky business and my boss is. . . . Well, he’s Tomas. Don’t worry about a thing, okay? I’ll be back here to help you here before anything else is done to this place.”

Mouthing a silent “Ah”, she nods her head understandingly. “You do so much for everyone else, Sienna.”

I wish she wouldn’t say things like that when I’m lying to her face!

“And this is coming from the most selfless person I know,” I point out, pulling my bobble cap down further onto my ears to cover how hot they feel.

Gram flushes, the sullen expression she’s been wearing for the past couple days slowly giving way to a look that’s both shy and pleased. “Do you need me to drive you to the airport in the mor—”

“No!” When her blue eyes expand, I squeeze my hands together and reply in a more collected voice. “It’s an early flight so it’s probably best I just call a taxi.”

“But it’s so expensive to call a cab, I really don’t mind.”

“Don’t worry, my boss is totally covering the expenses back,” I say. And another lie because I’m totally full of them today. Gram easily accepts each one and as she does, I feel more awful, more helpless, and more doomed.

I pray with all my might that in spite of the fact I’ll be working for Lucas Wolfe, rockstar extraordinaire and Asshat, Gram will never find out any of the details surrounding this charade that’s less than twenty-four hours from going down.

†

While my grandmother and I are eating a late dinner—I invited Seth but he called at the last minute to back out—Kylie stops by unannounced. To be honest, I’m grateful for the interruption. I prepared the meal of baked chicken breast and steamed vegetables and I’m the lousiest cook I’ve ever met.

Kylie comes bearing a gift for Gram, an oversized Valentine’s Day edible arrangement, and a bottle of French champagne for me. “Told you my boss gives me free reign with his credit card,” Kylie says, flashing a hopeful look that’s brimming with apology. I respond with a brisk bob of my head. To Gram, she smiles sweetly and asks, “Do you mind if I speak to Sienna for a few minutes? I swear I won’t keep her for too long.”

Gram’s more interested in the chocolate dipped strawberries, so she shoos us away. I usher Kylie out to the front porch, where she lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply as if it’s her very last one and she’s expecting the apocalypse at any moment. “I’m giving them up next week—hence, the vacation to New Orleans,” she explains, firing up a second one. “You don’t even want to know what my friend Heidi’s sacrificing this year. Don’t judge me.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

Kylie slows her roll on the cigarette she’s presently smoking, slides one of her palms in the back pocket of her paint-splashed jeans, and says self-consciously, hopefully, “I’m guessing I’m not on your shit list anymore. Or maybe I’ve been upgraded to your mini-shit list.”

“Don’t hold grudges for too long,” I say. Of course, that’s a lie, but I don’t feel at all bad about hiding things from Kylie. The truth is, I still hold a grudge against my mom for the things she did to my grandparents and to Seth and me a few years ago, and it probably won’t ever be void, even when Lucas hands me the deed to this house. And damn, I still have to have the talk with Gram about her seeing Mom.