The Truth About Kian

20. Shattered windows and the sound of drums

:: C H A P T E R  T W E N T Y | SHATTERED WINDOWS AND THE SOUND OF DRUMS ::

Davina took charge when we reached Toronto the next day. She had to wrestle Liam out of the driver's seat, but growing up with a brother paid off because she was the one who ended up behind the wheel. "You can barely manage to drive in Scire," she reasoned to a sulking Liam who was now sitting in the backseat with me. "Good luck trying to drive in Toronto."

"It's not like you're any better," he mumbled. Meg shot him a sympathetic look, reaching backwards to touch his knee, but he shook her off and glanced away. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing as her cheeks flushed.

Davina snorted as she smoothly entered the freeway. It was a nice change from Liam's choppy driving. "My mom lives in Toronto, dumbass."

Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He knew he had lost.

I spent the entire ride into the city staring out the window. I'd been to Toronto a few times to visit my dad, but its size never failed to amaze me. There was something intriguing about living in a city where anonymity was a person's main identity, and I knew that I'd never live in a small town like Scire after high school. I didn't like knowing everything about my neighbours. I didn't want them to know me or remember when I had braces and awful acne. When I met new people, I wanted to put my best self out into the world.

Liam tapped me on the arm and it felt like I'd been poked with a cattle prod. "Reed? Where are we going?"

I thought back to the last time I'd visited my dad. Even my visit hadn't been important enough to convince him to take a day off and I'd shadowed him as he made sure Karter arrived to his appointments on time. The movie star was one of the most sought after men in the world, but he couldn't be punctual to save his life. And according to Dad, Karter, who followed his routine like a religious fanatic, had still never managed to get to his spin class exactly at nine.

"The exact same class at the exact same time everyday for three years," he'd groaned while we'd waited for Karter to finish. "Do you know how tired I am of staring at that ugly poster every day?" He'd pointed to the poster of an overly muscular man in a white shirt on the opposite wall. The words "Pro-Fit Gym" were stretched across his chest, the letters distorted from his massive pecs.

Pulling out my phone, I began to search for directions to the gym. Unless Karter had gotten a personality transplant, I was willing to bet that he still went for his class at nine in the morning. Liam peered over my my shoulder. "What's at Pro-Fit Gym?" he asked curiously.

"My dad." Hopefully. I glanced at the clock; it was two minutes before nine. If we were lucky, we'd reach the gym before Karter's class ended. But knowing my luck, it was more likely that that we'd be on this wild goose chase for a while.

Liam nodded, reaching for the GPS to program in the address. Davina rolled her eyes, but she didn't complain as she followed its instructions.

My stomach rolled as we got closer to the gym. I didn't know how cooperative my dad would be — and would he be happy to see me at all? I sipped from my water bottle, but it did nothing to ease my nausea.

It was quarter to ten when we pulled into the parking lot. I was used to feeling out of place, but the massive steel and stone building with its parking lot filled with expensive cars had always made me uncomfortable.

We ran into a young woman dressed in workout gear as we entered the dimly lit lobby that looked more like the inside of a club than a gym. Her auburn hair was pulled in a high ponytail, the slightly-curling ends brushing the neon green straps of her tank top. She gave Davina and I a dismissive look before her eyes landed on Liam.