BooksBarbecue
Back The House Party
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. April 2008
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. Author’s Note
  55. Acknowledgments
  56. About the Author
  57. About the Publisher

There was a firm knock at the door, and Rosie almost screamed. In an instant, she realized how stupid this was. What was she going to do—blackmail him? It was insane. Hunter wasn’t going to be impressed; he was going to think she was weird.

“Just a sec,” she called out as she jabbed frantically at the unfamiliar phone. It took her a minute to figure out how to delete their text conversation from his phone. She was trying to delete her contact when the knock came again. Forget it, she thought, shoving both phones back into her pockets, and opened the door. It wasn’t Tillman, or her father. It was a lady with a toddler, who was doing the potty dance. “Sorry to rush you!” the woman called out as she passed Rosie, and Rosie just nodded, relieved.

When she returned to the counter, Tillman was back in his seat, eating his sandwich and chatting with her dad. He hadn’t seemed to notice that his phone was missing. She dropped a napkin, and then bent down to pick it up, holding the phone as if she’d found it lying behind the counter. “Is this yours?” she asked him, her voice unnaturally high.

“Sure is,” Tillman said, not noticing her discomfort. “Thanks!”

“No problema,” she muttered, close to tears. She needed to get ahold of herself. She asked her dad if she could go home to do some laundry, and he let her go. “I got a good one,” he said, winking at Tillman, and Rosie shuddered.

What was happening to her? Crushing on her best friend’s boyfriend. Messing around with the district attorney’s phone. She hardly recognized herself. Soon someone would give her name to the police, and her dad would see what kind of person she really was. She walked home quickly, determined to actually do her laundry, and her dad’s as well.

If I don’t tell anyone about this, she thought, it will be like it never happened.

34

The face of the girl behind the glass was impassive. She wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her long blond hair, and she stared intently at the table in front of her as she spoke. Her parents, on either side of her, seemed to pantomime her emotions: her mother, pale and crying, and her father, with his fists clenched and his eyes darting around the room, looking for a target for his fury. Detective Murray sat across from them, taking notes, while a younger female officer named Nisha Boyd conducted the interview.