“And then when we got back to my driveway, it’s like neither one of us wanted the night to end, so we just stood around by her car talking and laughing until finally, she had to get going. And what do you think happened then?”
I’m like, “Uh, I don’t know—she went home?”
“She leaned in and kissed me.”
“She kissed you, like with tongue and everything?”
“No, it wasn’t like that. It was just a sweet little soft kiss.”
“On the lips?”
“Yes, on the lips.”
“Hmm. So what does that mean? Is she like your girlfriend now or what?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. It was like bang!—she kissed me, and then she walks around to get in the car and smiles and says she’ll call me.”
“And has she?”
“No, not yet. But we only went out last night.”
So I’m like, “Well, that’s pretty cool.” And she goes, “Pretty cool? It’s like the most awesome thing ever.”
“Okay. I’m happy for you.” I went back to eating my burger. I have to admit the most awesome thing ever line bugged me. After all, Audrey and I had had some pretty awesome times together. Didn’t those count for anything anymore?
After a couple of minutes of eating in silence, she finally goes, “So what’s your big news?”
I finished chewing, and then I go, “Oh, nothing much. I just had my life threatened, that’s all.”
“You’re kidding. By who?”
I set my burger down and told the whole story of last night, ending with my list of the top three candidates—besides Sideburns himself—for who was behind the threat.
Of course, Audrey liked Rowan the most as a suspect, but she didn’t have much evidence besides the fact that she despised him.
“What did the police have to say about it?” she asked.
“Are you serious? I didn’t get the police involved. I’m not their favorite guy, you know. I’m not sitting through another one of those interrogations.”
She cocked her head to the side. “I still think you should’ve called them. It’s probably too late now.”
I popped a French fry into my mouth. “The dude could’ve cut my nose off and the police would still blame it on me.”
“So how did Mr. Browning even know about your articles?”
“I sent copies of them to Nash. I figure he’s been spreading them around.”
“Nash, huh?” she said, like there was something suspicious about that.
I’m like, “What?”
And she goes, “Have you ever thought Nash might be behind it all?”
“No way. Nash’s a cool guy. He’s my buddy.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You think I can’t be buddies with a Hollister guy? You’re going around like you have this great Hollister girlfriend, but you think I can’t have a friend from there?”
“Trix is different. She’s not a snob.”
“Yeah, well, I think Nash’s different.”
We finished our burgers in silence. Then Audrey’s like, “So what are you going to do? Are you going to quit on the Ashton Browning thing?”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out.”
At that point, who walked by but Corman Rogers from high school. He’s like, “Hey, Body Bag, think fast,” and threw a wet paper sack smack into my chest. It slid down into my lap, and when I picked it up to toss it aside, a dead toad fell out on the table.
“Real cool, idiot,” I said, but Corman and his buddies just laughed.
When they walked off, I shook my head. “Jesus, I don’t know which is worse, having my nose cut off or living like this.”
CHAPTER 29
Despite Audrey’s opinion of Nash, I figured he’d be a good person to call for advice. He’d always been cool to me. Sure, he did put the squeeze on us to do what could’ve been some pretty humiliating karaoke, but even that turned out all right. I could see us hanging out, doing cool Hollister things. Besides, he owed me. Hadn’t I done him a favor and left Gangland out of my articles about Ashton? Now that I needed some deeper scoop on Mr. Browning and Rowan, it was his turn to keep quiet.
First, I messaged him online about meeting in person, said I wanted to write an article on the Hollister football team and that he would be the perfect person to interview. I didn’t mention Ashton. No need to leave a written trail showing that I might still be investigating her case. And actually that whole deal was on the back burner anyway. Right now I was more focused on figuring out how to keep my nose on my face.
His reply to my message confirmed just how wrong Audrey was about him. He had nothing but enthusiasm about the idea. One problem—he wanted me to meet him on the Hollister campus so I could actually watch the team practice, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to show my face around there.
Besides, Audrey was no longer a dependable chauffeur. In fact, she claimed she and Trix were hanging out together that afternoon. That was no big deal for Nash, though. He said he’d send Brett out to pick me up. Black-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful Brett. This was going to call for some cologne. And maybe even the porkpie hat.
She agreed to pick me up outside of school after I got done with my journalism stuff, which I admit was my idea. How could I resist showing the nonbelievers that Dylan Jones was more than just some Body Bag fool?
As I waited on her, it was perfect—about twenty kids milled around in front of school, stupid Corman Rogers among them. I couldn’t think of a better audience. Unfortunately, Randy showed up and wanted to come along. I’m like, “I don’t think so, dude. They’re just expecting me.”