Someone Else's Fairytale

Chapter Eight: The Vanderholts

Jason's phone went off as we were headed for the tram. The first flight of tourists would depart soon, and we wanted to be in the tram car going the other way. “Uh-huh,” said Jason. “Oh.” He hung up and frowned at me. “Sooo, I guess there's a crowd at the bottom. Someone must've called someone and word's out that I'm here.”

He'd taken the time to go sign autographs for all of the staff on the peak, and although he was gracious about it, there was a strain around his eyes that let me know his heart wasn't really in it. On one hand, it seemed only fair that he take the time, because these people had all done us a big favor, but on the other hand, I couldn't imagine having to spend my life asking for such favors and signing my name on pictures of myself in gratitude. It was so bizarre.

As we stepped onto the tram, he tapped his phone and put it to his ear. “Yeah,” he said. “Yep. Really sorry. Thanks.” He hung up. “I've got some security guys on their way,” he said. “They can escort you to your car too.”

“Or I could sneak off and pretend not to know you.”

I meant that as a joke, but he nodded. “Yes, if you want to make absolutely sure no one follows you.”

I thought about my car with two flat tires. “Do you mind?”

“I don't. I'm just sorry my life is like it is.”

If we'd known each other better, I might have put my hand on his arm. As it was, I tried to nod sympathetically.

Jason stared out the front of the tram the entire way down. The city grew larger and larger in front of us, its scum of brown smog dissipated as we descended down into it. He seemed so lonely and isolated, just him silhouetted against the cityscape on the desert plain.

***

When I got home, Lori was just getting up. “Where have you been?” she asked. She looked me up and down, at me fully dressed with makeup on, my hair windblown.

“Up on Sandia Peak.”

“Sandia Peak?” She looked at the clock on our microwave. “There some kind of school thing up there?”

“Be honest with me about something?”

“What?” She poured herself some coffee.

“If I went up for a morning ride on the tram with a guy, and I'm meeting his family tonight, am I-”

“Whoa, what?” She nearly dropped her coffee mug.

“Yeah, okay. That answers my question.”

“Who?” she called after me.

“No. It's no one.”

“Who the heck did you meet and when? Is he cute?”

I ducked into my room for refuge.

“Chloe, come on!”

I stuck my head out. “Lor, please. I screwed up.”

“He must've been real smooth. Or real smart or something, to get you in this situation.” She laughed.

Her door opened and Charles stepped out. “Hi,” he said to me.

“Hi.” I retreated back into my room.

***

I considered canceling on Jason, but again decided I couldn't. Not on the very day. I dressed neutrally in a gray skirt, white blouse, and black flats. My phone rang while I dusted my nose with powder. It was a local number I didn't recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's Steve. Vanderholt.”

“Oh, hi.”