Page 40 of Positively Pricked

Chapter 12

As my feet moved forward, my head was constantly in motion, taking in all the massive homes, with their interesting architecture and manicured lawns, all clearly visible thanks to crazy amounts of accent lighting.

The way it looked, nobody inthisneighborhood ever worried about the electric bill – or any other bill for that matter.

I saw very few cars, but that wasn't terribly surprising, considering that each and every home had a three-car garage at the bare minimum. But the cars Ididsee? Well, they probably cost more than the little house I was currently renting.

Heck, they probably cost more than the farmhouse I'd grown up in. As a kid, I'd been surrounded by acres of open fields. At the time, I'd barely realized that gated neighborhoods like this even existed.

Now, walking along the quiet street, I was overly aware, and I couldn’t help but wonder, were these people happy?

I thought of Zane Bennington.Hewasn't happy. That much was obvious. But why not, when he had the world at his feet?

The guy wasn't just a prick. He was an idiot, too. Hehadto be.

As I strolled along, there was one house I was determined to avoid –hishouse, if it could be called that.No.To call Zane's place a house was like calling the Titanic a boat. I felt my lips curve into a slow, evil smile. If only I had a giant, portable iceberg.

Take that, Zane Bennington.

I'd been walking maybe fifteen minutes when I spotted a street sign that made me pause. The name of the street sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t seem to place it. Hoping to jog my memory, I said the name out loud. "Longwood."

And then it hit me. While I'd been hunkered down inside the catering van, I'd overheard Zane Bennington tell that Bob guy that he had to move out of his family home, which happened to be onwhatstreet?

Longwood.I was sure of it.

But was it thesameLongwood? If so, it made no sense. Last night, Bob had summoned a driver to take Teddy home. But why would he do that if they lived within stumbling distance?

Suddenly curious, I turned and headed down Longwood, noting that the homes on this street were still amazing, even if they weren't nearly in the same league as Zane's.

But then again, none of them were.

I snuck a quick glance at my watch. Probably, it was time to turn around.

And yet, I didn't.

Instead, I came to a complete stop as I spotted something that made me frown. It was a giant moving truck, parked up against the curb, just a few houses ahead.

Racked by indecision, I turned to glance in the general direction of the guard shack. And, then I returned my gaze to the truck.

As I watched, a couple of big guys in brown uniforms emerged from somewhere beyond my sight, carrying an antique table across the front lawn. Together, they loaded the table onto the truck and then returned to the house. A minute later, they emerged again, carrying an antique armoire, and then, a Victorian fainting couch.

My heart sank. Someone was definitely moving, all right.

I tried to tell myself that it was probably someone else – someone entirely unconnected to Zane-the-Prick Bennington. And whoever that someone was, they were probably moving because they wanted to – not because some heartless bastard had kicked them to the curb.

Thathadto be it.

After all, Zane had given Bob until Monday to move, and it was, –oh, crap– Sunday night. I heard myself sigh. Who was I kidding? The way it looked, I was getting yet another first-hand glimpse of needless misery, thanks to you-know-who.

It was beyond depressing. And yet, like a fly to a big steaming pile of crap, I found myself moving closer, hoping against hope that I was wrong.

I wasn't.

Of course.

I knew this, because when I passed – working like crazy to keep my gaze straight ahead – I saw from the corner of my eye a man who looked sadly familiar. It was Robert or Bob What's-His-Name, the silver-haired gentleman who'd been so actively involved in the catering setup.

He was standing on the front lawn, wearing khaki pants and a dark sweater. He watched the movers in stoic silence as they loaded an ornate side table onto the truck.