Page 35 of Lovetown, USA

Lane

Mr. and Mrs. Malik Peters can’t stop touching each other as they sit across from me at the table. Main Squeeze has amazing smoothies, Mrs. Peters told me on the phone, so I met them here, where they first met.

Every sentence feels like an excuse for her to stroke his forearm, or for him to kiss her cheek, or for them to brush fingers. I’m waiting for one of them to grab a plastic spoon and feed the smoothie to the other like a baby.

“So,” I say, pen poised over my pad, “you met here, dated for a few months, then got engaged.”

“That’s right,” Kelly beams. “And then married four months after the engagement.”

She holds her hand up, wiggling her ring finger like it’s an Olympic gold medal.

“Congrats,” I say as I ignore it. “So I take it you married within the time frame to get your tax benefits.”

“Oh, nah, we didn’t get that,” Malik says. “You gotta have a house for that.”

“Oh, you’re renters.”

“I moved into his apartment,” Kelly says, “but we could have gotten it if we rented a house. They have a bunch of lots available all over the city. We just really liked his place.”

“Who has a bunch of lots?”

“It’s some company.” Malik finishes his smoothie with a quiet burp. “They really like all the white picket fence bullshit. When you get engaged, there’s a whole packet with options in there. Wedding packages…”

“Catering companies,” Kelly chimes in. “Dress shops. Et cetera. And real estate stuff. I don’t know who owns those lots, but the houses are really nice.”

My wheels are turning. “Do you still have it? The packet?”

“It’s probably somewhere at our place,” Kelly says. “You need it?”

“Yeah, I’m curious about what’s in it.”

“I’ll look around and see if I can find it. I’m sure it’s in a drawer somewhere.”

“I’d appreciate that. If you do, I’ll swing by.”

Kelly nods. “By the way, I really like your articles.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“You can really see the trajectory you’re on.”

My head pops up at that. “What do you mean?”

“Like, at first you were all negative and skeptical, and now, you’re enjoying yourself, met a few guys. Sounds like Dr. Handsome is getting in a little. I love it. I foresee a fairy tale ending!”

Her smile is disarming despite me hating what’s coming out of her mouth.

“I don’t believe in fairy tales,” I say as I write. “But I do thank you for speaking with me today. It was nice meeting you two. I’m glad you found each other. You seem very happy together.”

Malik leans over to kiss Kelly on the cheek, and it doesn’t make me want to bring up my You’re One in a Melon smoothie.

I guess I’m growing.

I set my pen down. “By the way…when y’all met here, was it just on a whim?”

“Actually, it was a tasting we got invited to,” Malik says. “I guess since we both said we like smoothies on our questionnaire, we got invited.”

“Questionnaire?” I pick up my pen again.

“Yeah, when you first move here, they have you fill it out at the post office. I don’t know where that shit goes, but it has hella questions on it,” Malik explains.

“I love that shit, though. It’s like they plan your life for you based on how you answer.

Found me a gym, a church, and this place. ” He smiles at Kelly. “And bae.”

They’re too busy kissing to see my eyes roll. Now I’m scribbling furiously.

I just got another puzzle piece.

After they leave, I take a deep breath. I feel like I can breathe again. Something about being held hostage by lovebirds makes me uncomfortable. And antsy. I thought I was gonna jump out of my skin. Now? I feel free again.

My Uber is five minutes away. I gather my things and stand on the curb, taking a deep breath, smelling the fresh air.

The blue sedan pulls up right on time, slowing as it nears me.

I’m walking to the door when I lock eyes with the driver.

She looks me dead in the eye, shakes her head, and hits the gas, tires squealing and everything. I’m confused.

My phone’s still in my hand. That was weird, but okay, I order another Uber. Five minutes later, a silver SUV pulls up. Same thing happens—the driver sees me, hesitates, then speeds off.

And I’m left on the curb like yesterday’s trash.

My skin prickles. Something’s wrong. It’s…in the air.

I decide to walk the half mile to the library.

The sidewalks are picture perfect. I pass by flower baskets swaying in the breeze and chalkboard signs outside shops promising special cocktails for lovers and sweet treats for sweethearts.

It’s quaint, I guess. I can see how people feel safe here. Even happy. It’s very pleasant.

But something’s still off.

A black sedan cruises past me. Window down.

“Go home, asshole!” someone yells.

The words cut through me, too sharp and too close.

I stop walking, heart hammering in my chest as I wonder if that was a mistake.

Maybe they thought I was somebody else, because what the fuck could I have done to attract this kind of bullshit?

By the time I think to look, the car is too far away for me to see the license plate.

But what would I even report?

That somebody drove by and told the truth?

I am an asshole, which is just fine with me, and frankly, I probably should take my ass home.

I make it to the library just as the faintest sheen of sweat breaks out across my forehead. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, way too bright. The librarian looks up from her desk, her eyes cold and assessing.

“Hi,” I say, forcing cheer.

She just hums, her lips pressed thin, before dropping her gaze back to her computer.

That’s new.

I grab a corner desk far away from the windows. It’s not crowded in here, but it feels like the handful of people around me are staring at me.

My hands shake a little as I open my laptop. The silence doesn’t feel like library silence usually does. If feels chaotic and charged, like Shayla described her parents’ dining room table. The people in here, the librarian, the two Uber drivers—what are they not saying? What did I miss?

I text Shayla.

I’m having a weird day.

Ten minutes tick by with no response. That’s not like her.

So I text Trey next.

Hey can you pick me up later? I’m at the library

Of course

The relief I feel surprises me. I feel calm now, just that fast. Like I’ve been anchored.

I pull out the clerk’s records. There are rows of neat print, line after line of vague allocations I don’t understand. Research partnerships. Innovation grants. Data science expenditures.

It’s Greek to me.

But then I see Merrick Davis’ name. Daphne’s husband. He’s listed as a consultant on a project for community engagement data analysis.

I lean back, nibbling at the inside of my cheek. CEO of Cognilynx consulting on a data analysis. But analysis of what? It’s all so frustratingly vague.

Which gives me a rush.

Because this is what I do.

This candy-coated city is no match for me.

A few hours later, my phone buzzes.

Dr. Handsome

Outside

I pack up fast, shoving papers in my bag before I head out. The early evening air is warm against my skin, heavy and humid. Trey’s car waits at the curb, headlights spilling onto the street like the beacon of a lighthouse.

Beacon.

Heh. Irony.

He hops out to open the passenger door for me, pecking my lips before he relieves me of my bag.

Inside, he doesn’t drive off. Instead, he looks at me curiously, his jaw tight.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just had a weird experience.”

“Yeah, I figured something happened.” His eyes rake over me, quickly assessing. “What’s going on?”

I tell him about the Ubers. The heckler. The librarian’s brush-off. I must still be shaken up, because my voice trembles, which embarrasses me.

Trey listens, his jaw getting tighter with every passing moment. Finally, when I’m quiet, he nods to himself, his expression unreadable. “I wonder if somebody around here is upset about what you’re writing.”

My pulse spikes. I grin, defiant as ever. “You shouldn’t have told me that. Now you got me fired up.”

He doesn’t appear to share my enthusiasm. “Is it worth it?” he asks.

“Yes.” No hesitation. “This is what I do. It’s my purpose, like medicine is for you. And I’ve worked on way more hard-hitting stories than this. It’s nothing. It’s child’s play here.”

His lips tighten a bit as he looks over me again. “I just don’t want you getting backlash. You should be able to call a fucking Uber and not be treated like shit at the goddamn library.” He glances at the entrance. “Matter of fact—“

“Stop.” I put a hand on his arm before he unbuckles his seatbelt. “I can handle myself. I’m strong.” I smile at him. “Besides, I know you won’t let anybody hurt me.”

He grabs my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I’m glad you know that.”

I nod. “How was your day?”

He exhales, long and heavy. “Same old. But I got a few more things approved. Clinic’s moving forward.”

I slide over a bit, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. His stubble grazes my lips. “I’m so proud of you. Making your dream come true. That’s big. And you were just complaining the other day. Now look.”

He swallows hard, his eyes fixed straight ahead. “I appreciate it.”

Then he starts puts the car in drive and pulls off, leaving me confused.

Again.