On Every Street (The Artists Trilogy #0)
Page 2I was doomed.
“Okay,” I said shyly. He gave me that prize-winning grin again and pulled out a business card from his full wallet, handing it to me.
I turned it over in my hands, feeling the grooved paper.
“Javier Bernal,” I read out loud. “Consultant.”
And that was it. Just his phone number.
“Who do you consult?” I asked, looking up at him.
I could have sworn his face went rigid for a second, but maybe because I was looking for it. Maybe because I knew he wasn’t a consultant. Maybe because I knew who he really was, part of a drug cartel, working as a henchman for one of the most powerful drug lords on the Gulf Coast. Maybe because I knew he had more secrets to hide than I did.
But he just shrugged and said, “People who need it.”
He got out of his chair with all the ease of a panther and tapped the card with a well-manicured finger. “Call me. Soon.”
Then he left the store, tossing his tea in the wastebasket without looking.
It took a good few minutes for me to calm down and get my heartbeat back to an acceptable level. Ever since I left California and came here, I knew what I had set out to do. I had prepared for it as much as I could. I was going to find Travis, the man who scarred me as a child when my parent’s scam went wrong. I was going to get to him by seducing someone close to him, someone who could get me in close. Then I was going to have my revenge, the only thing that had kept me going over the years.
It’s just when I chose Javier as my mark, I never thought my mark would choose me. Because that’s what Javier had just done. I wanted to win over his heart so I could get what I wanted. But I had a feeling he was about to get to my heart first.
CHAPTER TWO
“So where do you think you’ll go next?” Uncle Jim asked me as I shoved my suitcases into the back of my truck. I wished the cab had more space—it was going to be hard adjusting to living out of it again instead of Uncle Jim’s house. His place wasn’t spacious, but for the last eight months it had been mine.
I shrugged, even though I knew exactly where I was going, and gave him a breezy smile. Uncle Jim was standing at the end of the tiled driveway, still in his house robe, looking at some of the browned lavender that was slowly dying in his rock garden. He’d suffered a heart attack last year—the reason I came all the way back to Palm Valley—and he still wasn’t one hundred percent. He certainly didn’t look like he could run his date farm all on his own, but he was adamant that he could. And, well, a girl can tell when she’s not wanted.
To be honest with you, a large part of me wanted to leave this town behind. Right after high school I took off and headed east, determined to leave my old life in the dust. But then he told me about his heart, and since my parents were still on the run somewhere and good for nothing, it was up to me to take care of him. Uncle Jim had been insistent that he didn’t want my help, but I could tell that’s why he called me in the first place. He’s a proud man and would never directly ask for it.
But everyone overstays their welcome. If he thought he could handle the farm by himself, he was probably right. Or, I was right to let him try. Still, I’d grown comfortable here. No, I didn’t like living back in the town I went to high school in, the town that held all of my terrible memories, but Uncle Jim felt like home.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you, little Hellie?” he asked, using my nickname. He was now poking the edge of a cactus with his toe. Like me, he wasn’t very good at goodbyes. “And you’ll call?”
I slammed the door shut and I swore I heard something breaking inside. The rusted old Chevy was officially packed to the gills. This was it.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead as the relentless California sun beat down and turned to face him. “Of course I’ll call you.”
Now my uncle was looking at me, squinting in the sunlight. “I’d feel better if I knew where you were going.”
“Texas,” I answered truthfully.
“And what’s in Texas?”
I pursed my lips, wondering if I should tell him the truth. The truth always seemed like a bad idea.
But he knew anyway. “You’re still going to see that Gus fellow, aren’t you?” His features grew stern and shadowy under the harsh desert light. I knew he wouldn’t approve, but it was time to do things for me.
“He’s a con artist.”
“Well, most of Mom and Dad’s friends are con artists,” I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “What, you think con artists hang out with moral people? Besides, he used to be part of the LAPD. He could teach me a thing or two.”
“About giving the middle finger to the law?” he asked, brow raised.
“About life,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Look, I’m practically an orphan now. You’re busy with the farm and I get that. But Mom and Dad are nowhere to be found. Don’t you think I should hang out with people who have some ties to the way things were? I mean, I remember Gus from when I was a kid.”
“Ellie,” he said slowly. He eased himself into a crouch and plucked a yellow flower from the garden, twirling it in his hand. “You don’t need ties to the past. You need to create your own future. Go create your own family. Don’t hold on…”
Oh, but I was doing so much more than holding. I had the past grasped firmly in my hands, ready to squeeze it to death.
Those thoughts must have shown up on my face because he walked toward me holding out the flower. “I know how it is. I really do. I just don’t want to see you get hurt more than you already have.” His eyes trailed down to my leg and back. “I just want you to be a better person than the person you’re trying to become. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” I said with a laugh. Still, I took the flower from his hand and tucked it into my ponytail holder. “How does it look?”
He smiled sadly. “Beautiful. You look beautiful, Ellie. You always have. You’re going to break hearts out there.”
I smiled back, happy that his tone was lighter. “As long as they don’t break mine, I’m good.”
I quickly embraced him before I got all weepy and hopped into the truck. I revved the engine for fun, then gave Uncle Jim a wave. A few of the workers came out of the rows of date palms and waved as well. I’d been working alongside them on the farm, harvesting dates and helping out, and I was going to miss them all. But I was done with this life here, the safe and simple one. It was time for me to head out on the open road and find myself.
I knew exactly where to start looking too. Biloxi. That’s where I was going to find the new Ellie Watt and bury the old one.
I just hoped Gus would help me and give me what I wanted—what I needed. I’d been in email contact with him over the last few months, slowly trying to put my plan into action. He’d been kind and friendly, at least with the written word, and seemed happy to connect with someone from the Watt clan. The last time I saw him, I must have been six years old or something, back when my parents were smart con artists and I was their little instrument. I never once mentioned becoming one or wanting help with it—that was something he was about to find out.
My plan seemed simple enough at times, and at others, it was completely over my head. Terrifying. Sometimes I wondered where I got the nerve to even attempt this, but then again, I figured I had nothing to lose. I was twenty-years-old and waiting to live my life. Until I got my revenge, until justice was served for what was done to me, I’d have to keep waiting. I couldn’t get past all the wrongs in my life; I couldn’t accept them. To accept it, to live with it peacefully, that was like saying it was all okay. And what was done to me…that could never be okay.
Working for Uncle Jim and staying at his house in Palm Valley free of charge meant that I’d saved up enough money to get me to Mississippi—after that, I didn’t really care what happened to me. I was also counting on Gus letting me stay with him while he showed me the ropes. For the next few nights while I blasted through Arizona and New Mexico, I stayed in cheap motels and ate out of gas stations. I’d calmed down a bit, getting used to being by myself again, a vagabond, a gypsy. I had time to think, to figure out what I needed to do and how I was going to do it. I tried to remember some of the stuff my parents had taught me when I was growing up, everything before the accident.
But even with all that time to let my thoughts fly and the flat, khaki-colored scenery of Texas zooming past my open window, I was reduced to a thick syrup of nerves when I saw the looming skyline of Dallas approaching. Gus lived just outside the sprawling mess of a city. He was close, which meant revenge was closer. I barely made my way through the crazy drivers and congestion before my heart tried to leap out of my throat. If Gus said no, what would I do? There was no school for grifters. I was inexperienced and raw and I wouldn’t stand a chance in the big bad world.
Just after noon, I pulled the Chevy down a lonely street in cattle country, the smog-covered buildings of Dallas in the distance. There was only one house down this way, a dark brown one-level with a wrap-around porch. A small fishing boat was parked on the groomed lawn, a red pick-up truck in the driveway. Behind the house I could see a few rustic barns, and beyond that, the rust and white dots of Hereford cattle. A sea of waving grass did a 360 around me.
I took in a deep breath, made sure the makeup on my face was still acceptable, and got out of the car. It was hot as fuck and stunk like manure, yet somehow it was comforting and homey. I took that as a good sign.
Gus was quick to answer his door. I supposed he’d been waiting for me.
“Holy horseshit,” Gus said as he leaned against the door, a wide grin breaking his face in two. “You certainly don’t look like the wee Ellie Watt that I remember.”
The funny thing was, even though I’d been quite young the last time I saw him, he looked completely familiar. He had a jovial face punctuated by a bulbous nose, small dark eyes, and hairy as hell eyebrows. His hair was completely grey, on the long side and pushed back off his forehead. He had one hell of a mustache that hid his upper lip, something he always had. He looked shorter now that I wasn’t a kid, but he was still a good height with a fair amount of paunch on his stomach. Whatever work he had done for the LAPD had apparently been replaced with beer and donuts.
I held out my hand for him, feeling a bit shy. I wasn’t used to strangers, even though he was anything but.
He took it, giving me a quick and sweaty shake, before pulling me into him and slapping me once on the back.
“Good to see you, kid,” he said, holding me at arm’s length and looking me up and down. “You’ve got your mama’s eyes, that’s for sure.”