Ride and Die (Ridgemore #1)

15 Gourmet Silver Linings Spring the Trap

15

Gourmet Silver Linings Spring the Trap

H unt sat in the spacious butterfly chair in the corner of his bedroom, staring blindly at the electronic listening device in the palm of his hand. It seemed too small to create so much heartache. Leaning on his thighs, head hunched forward into his shoulders, he hadn’t said a word since the radio frequency detector had sung its foreboding, chirpy tune in front of one of his many laden bookshelves. A special edition of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit had concealed the bug, wedged behind a shelving bracket immediately above the large, illustrated tome.

I patted him on the knee. I knew all too well what parental betrayal felt like, but at least a scan of my bedroom hadn’t turned up anything odd beyond a single pearl earring I didn’t remember ever owning and that was so not my style. The same for the rest of us. Only Hunt had had his privacy invaded in such a devastating way.

He didn’t react to my touch, nor to Layla’s when she slid behind him to rub his shoulders.

The longer Hunt remained silent, the tenser the rest of us grew. I rolled my neck to loosen it just as Griffin cracked his knuckles close enough to my ear that the popping made me cringe.

Brady was tightening and then loosening his arm muscles over and again. I couldn’t decide if it was a newly developed coping mechanism or if he was just that ready to tear Hunt’s mom and my parents a collective new one. If it was the latter, I was up for it. The need for answers roiled beneath my skin like a live wire.

“Hey.” I gave Hunt a strained smile, attempting a steadiness I wasn’t feeling. “Why don’t we go for a nice trail run, huh? We’ve all been so tense lately, what with everything that’s been going on. A good run’ll help clear our heads. I know I could sure use the fresh air.”

Alexis, if she was listening in, would likely interpret that as a reference to Brady’s accident and possibly also his nightmares. I could really use normal parents who didn’t shop at freaking spy stores. But the excuse to get us out of here so we could vent openly was a start.

Hunt didn’t so much as blink for at least half a minute, staring at the sleek loss of trust in his hand. When he finally did lift his gaze, it wasn’t to meet any of our eyes. He stalked over to his bookshelves with long, determined strides, lifted a stone dragon bookend, and smashed the device to pieces before any of us could do anything to stop him.

“Hunt!” Layla cried out, scrambling toward him, though there was no saving the bug now. “What the hell are you doing? Now they’ll know we found the damn thing!”

She was right, of course. We’d left the bugs where we found them to buy us time to figure out our next moves.

Brady scooped up the pieces. “Well, it’s sure as shit done now. Ain’t no putting this thing back together.”

“We had a plan, man,” Griffin said, but while his words were scolding, his tone was resigned.

Hunt returned both the bookend and The Hobbit to their spots on his shelves, his jaw so tight it pulled at his skin. Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked toward the large window that overlooked the forest, thick with verdant trees.

Hesitating only a moment, I followed, resting my hand on his back, which seemed to vibrate under my touch—unless that was me, my fury. It was hard to tell anymore with how wound up we were lately.

“I get it,” I murmured softly, though for once we didn’t have to watch what we said inside one of our houses. “I’m sorry, Hunt.”

“You’re not the one who should be sorry.”

I waited. The others drew closer, flanking him while we stared out at the woods that were as familiar to us as our homes. We’d run wild through these trees for most of our lives.

Hunt shook his head slowly, his shiny black hair sliding. “I just can’t believe it. I almost suggested we not even bother sweeping my room.” He chuckled bitterly. “I thought there was absolutely no chance, no way my mom would do that to me. I’ve never given her a single reason to distrust me. Everything we do’s out in the open. I’ve been acing school since always, and my going to college seems to be the only thing she’s interested in lately.”

“None of this makes any kind of sense,” I grumbled. “It’s fucking insane.” I paused. “Though I guess the bug here does make me question whether my parents were the ones to plant them in the treehouse. They were def listening, but who’s to say the others aren’t too?”

Layla’s brow bunched in confusion. “But what the fuck for? I just don’t get it. I mean, yeah, sure, we’re loads more interesting than any of them. Their favorite thing to do is geek out about cellular this and DNA that.” She paused, tipping her head to one side like Bobo did. “What could nerds like them want with listening in on us? I mean, what ? What the hell are they up to? Are they just trying to relive their youth through us? Getting off on listening to us … talk?” Her forehead scrunched further. “It can’t be that. Seriously, I don’t get any of this.”

Hunt whipped around to face us. “It’s time to confront them.”

“Yeah, for sure,” I replied immediately.

“We still don’t know—” Griffin started, but Hunt was shaking his head again.

“I get it, bro, I really do. You like to play smart with all your cards in your hand. It’s the best way to do things. Consider all the options before making your move. But I’m telling you, man, I can’t live with my mom in this house, knowing what she’s fucking done. It’s just me and her here. I’m gonna lose my shit if I have to fake it with her. I can’t do that. I’m not made that way.”

“I feel ya, bro,” I said. “I’ve about given my mom a piece of my mind at least a dozen times, and I can barely look at my dad. He pretends he’s innocent and easygoing and all. What a fucking liar.”

Griffin looked from me to Hunt, then back to me again. “Okay, then. So we do something about it. No more waiting.”

“Good with me,” Layla said, grinning maniacally. “Let’s blow their shit wide open. It’s gonna be awesome.”

I highly doubted that, but who was I to mess with her enthusiasm? If she could be excited about any part of this shitshow, then good on her.

“So how are we gonna do it?” Brady asked, plopping into the open butterfly chair, draping a leg over one side of it. “I think we should get them all involved. They’re all sus as fuck as far as I’m concerned.”

I perched on the other side of the chair, which would have been big enough for two of us if not for how sprawled out Brady was. He slid over to make room for me, but just barely.

“I’ve been raring to go,” I said. “I think we need to get down into my parents’ secret room before we talk to any of them.”

“Too late now,” Layla said. “Alexis’ll figure out that Hunt’s bug isn’t working anymore.”

“Yeah, she will. But who knows? She might find another explanation for it, at least until she comes in to inspect and finds it missing. But until then, she might think it ran out of batteries or whatever.” Hell, I was no spying specialist. “We might be busted already, but she also might excuse it away. It’s not like we’ve done anything that would tip them off that we’re on to them.”

“Before now,” Brady said, still holding the electronic crumbs in his hand.

I shrugged, less bothered by Hunt jumping the gun than the rest of them. We were lucky I hadn’t done it before him. “Nothing we can do about that now. But we gotta get into the secret room, stat.”

Layla rummaged around in her oversized purse, pulled out a bag of barbecue chips and passed them around. “So what’s the play here?” she asked, crunching loudly. “How do we get Monica and Reece out of the house on our schedule and get them to stay out long enough?”

I grabbed a handful of chips and tossed the bag onto Brady’s lap. “That’s tricky. If it were just one of them, that’d be easy. But to get them both out at the same time? And to leave me free? Not sure. If only they did a date night or something like that.”

Layla snorted. “I can’t remember the last time our parents went on a date, even before … you know, everything went down. Mom’s too uptight.”

“And now she’s got her head stuck up my ass,” Brady added, making Layla scrunch up her nose.

“Seriously, Brade? Do you never think before you speak?”

“I do about as much as you do. Have you heard some of the shit that comes flying out of your mouth?”

Layla’s nose crinkled even more. “Again, word choice is everything.”

With a heavy sigh, Hunt lowered himself to the floor, leaning against his bed, stretching out his long legs in front of him. “You could pretend to be sick? Maybe have the school nurse call them?”

“I could do that, I guess, but it’s likely only one of them would come get me. Or they might even ask one of you to drive me home if they’re in the middle of some work thing. You know how they are.”

“Yeah,” Layla said, serious for once. “If they could swaddle their work and stuff it into diapers, they’d baby the shit out of it while we fended for ourselves.”

“Weird analogy, but yeah,” Griffin said. “Even when my dad’s hanging out outside of his office, he’s nearly glued to his tablet. Like it’d kill him to step away from work for a hot second.”

Layla snorted. “They act like they’re saving the damn world. Like a frigging gene splice is gonna make some kinda difference.”

Hunt rubbed at his chin then moved on to play with his earring, today a small silver hoop with a single piece of turquoise hanging from it that used to be his dad’s. “I never really stopped to think about it before, but doesn’t it seem weird that they never really try to talk to us about what they’re working on?”

“They do,” Layla said. “Or at least our parents do, anyway.”

“Do they really though?” Brady asked over the loud crinkle of the chip bag. “They talk about genetics and heredity, but only in general terms. They don’t talk about their specific projects.”

Layla frowned, I suspected in part because Brady was right, and she hated that. “Damn, I guess that’s true. I can’t think of a single project they’ve told me about over the years, though they’re always talking to each other about the specs. But never in a way that I know what the hell they’re going on about. Not that I ask either. That shit’s bo-riiing .”

“Weird though, right?” Hunt asked. “It’d be one thing if we were all dumbasses like Pike, but we’re smart, and they know it.”

Work was our parents’ favorite thing to focus on, but a tie for second was discussion of our future education plans—which none of us had at the moment—and how each of us consistently tested at the top of national percentiles, labeling us as gifted students. Beyond test results, we’d been able to read and otherwise absorb material far past our grade levels for ages.

“Huh,” Griffin grunted, taking a seat next to Hunt, one leg stretched long, the other bent, his hands and chin resting on his knee. “Never noticed that before. Seems like I should’ve, now that you bring it up.”

“So it’s across the board?” Hunt asked, eyeing each of us. “Do any of you know what they’re working on now?”

I huffed. “Other than spying on our asses, you mean?”

His eyes hardened. “Yeah, other than that.”

“Nope,” I said. “And my mom’ll chat on and on if you let her.” I twirled one of my many small braids. “Just not about what’s most important to her, supposedly. And I don’t mean when they pretend it’s us.” I paused. “Maybe it is us, at least some. To be fair, they do give us everything we need and let us pretty much do whatever we want.”

Griffin’s foot stretched to tap mine. “That’s not necessarily the same thing as caring about us.” Layla and I opened our mouths, but he shrugged. “I guess I know they care about us. It’s just … this shit isn’t sitting right with me.”

“No kidding,” Hunt said. “It might be giving me indigestion, though I’m not sure what that feels like, so I can’t be sure.” He crunched on a couple more chips, and I laughed. Hunt could eat a rock and digest it without problems. One time the five of us had eaten some bad shrimp, and he was the only one who hadn’t ended up miserable with food poisoning.

“I could be in an accident of some sort,” I suggested. When Griffin’s eyes widened with what might have been panic, I hastened to add, “To draw my parents out of the house together, I mean. It does seem a bit cruel though, especially after what happened. And while I’m angry enough with them to punch a hole straight through a wall, I’m not sure I’d feel good about putting them through that.”

“They’re spying on us, Joss,” Hunt practically growled. “Their own motherfucking kids. Maybe they deserve whatever scare we give them.”

“Yeah … I guess so. If only we hadn’t seen them so freaked out at the hospital and, you know, after. But yeah, we could do that. Only we’d have to pretend I’m seriously hurt, or they won’t both come. And how do we pull that off convincingly? Besides, then I’d have to be out of the house too, and I’ve gotta get into that room.”

Griffin leaned forward, his chin fully atop his bent knee. “What if you say you want to go out to dinner, maybe to Romeo’s?” The food at the mom-and-pop Italian restaurant was made from scratch and to die for. “You could sweeten the offer by saying Monica could get a night off from thinking about what’s for dinner. We know she hates cooking. If it weren’t for your dad, you’d all probably never eat.”

“I didn’t tell you guys. She was talking about hiring a chef, and now awesome food has been magically appearing in the kitchen. She must’ve already hired the person and they come while we’re at school.” I scowled. “She didn’t even tell me about that, I just happened to overhear. Now I’m wondering just how much shit they skip telling me.”

“Yeah,” Hunt said with a purposefully fake, chipper laugh. “Like hey, forgot to tell you I installed motherfucking listening devices in your room.”

“Yeah, like that.” My scowl deepened.

Griffin continued, “If you tell them you want to discuss the universities you might want to attend—”

Layla groaned loudly, flopping dramatically to the floor between us all, draping an arm over her eyes. “Not the dangling university carrot. We only just got them to shut up about that already.”

“But that’s exactly why it’ll be irresistible to them,” Griffin said. “Romeo’s food and a chance to convince their only daughter to make”—he hooked his fingers in air quotes—“‘responsible choices with the gifts she’s been given’? There’s no way they’ll be able to pass that up.”

“True.” I rose to stare out the window again. “But then I won’t be there to check out their fucking secret lair.”

“But it’ll get them out of the house, and we can get in there and tell you what’s up.”

Hunt bent his knees, resting his elbows on them as he leaned his head back on the bed. “You won’t be able to be there, which sucks, I know, but then we can be sure we won’t be caught red-handed. You can text us a heads-up before you guys leave the restaurant.”

“Yeah.” I said, still unwilling to miss out on the big discovery.

“You won’t need to put on any theatrics,” Griffin added. “No pretending.”

“Other than pretending she’s interested in spending her entire dinner talking about boring universities,” Layla said. “Just because they went to school for a combined century or two and have enough masters and PhDs between them to wipe all their asses, doesn’t mean that’s what’s best for us. Like, can’t they give a girl a little bit of time to figure out her life before she has to dive headfirst into a major? Fuck!”

I turned just in time to catch Layla blowing her frustration out in a flutter that sent her bangs flying. Despite the topic of discussion this afternoon, I couldn’t help a chuckle. “Damn, girl, tell us how you really feel.”

“She’s such a fucking drama queen.” Brady crumpled up the empty bag of chips and tossed it one-handed into Hunt’s garbage bin, nailing the shot as usual. “Always with the fucking exaggerations.”

Layla rocketed up to sitting. “You must be thinking of yourself, ya damn drama queen.” She smiled mockingly. “Just ’cause I’m your twin doesn’t mean you need to be confusing us all the time, jeez.”

Brady rolled his eyes, huffing loudly—and dramatically. The pair of them could be crowned drama queen and king. “That’s stupid, Lay. Doesn’t even make sense.”

Before they could get going—and they would—I interrupted. “You guys’ll take pictures for me? So I can see what’s down there? And tell me about it?”

“Of course,” Griffin said. Then, extra gently, “We’d never leave you out.”

I stared at him, for just a moment allowing myself to get lost in his eyes, in his comforting smile. “Fine. I don’t like the idea of missing out on getting in there, but it’s the best plan. Easy, guaranteed to work. We can set it up ahead of time, no guessing how my parents will react. Let’s do it.”

I whipped out my phone and started typing.

“You’re gonna set it up now ?” Layla asked. “For tonight?”

“I would, but I’m sure my mom’s already figured out what we’re doing for dinner. Dad’s probably already done prep, or this new chef has. I’m setting it up for tomorrow.”

“Good,” Hunt said. “The sooner, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” My fingers flew across the screen.

Joss: U guys wanna do Romeo’s for din tomorrow? Got a hankering for their lasagna & breadsticks.

I sent, then sighed, really wishing I didn’t have to add this last bit that would seal the deal, no matter what project they’d been planning to work on tomorrow.

Joss: I was thinking we can talk about universities over dinner.

It took a total of thirty seconds for a response to arrive.

Mom: Sounds like a great idea, honey! I’ll book us a table right now.

Dad’s message arrived a minute later.

Dad: I’m in! Lasagna, yum. Also, proud of you, honey. You’ll never regret anything you learn.

I was tempted to correct their ready assumption that I was agreeing to attend, but I didn’t.

Joss: What time R U making the reservation for?

Mom: 6:30.

I sent back a thumbs-up they’d both see, then tucked away my phone in my back pocket, grimacing at my best friends.

“We’re on for tomorrow at 6:30. We’ll finally know what’s up.”

“Awesome,” Layla said, but what was there to celebrate, really?

Nothing like tricking your parents to figure out how deep their deception went. At least I was getting lasagna out of the deal. Silver linings and all that.

I had to find them wherever I could.