Under Age and Undercover: A Hannah Clark Novel (under edit)

Old friends, new perspective

Shane and I entered the living room a moment later, all the while Monique complained about Mr. Matterson’s hesitance in small talk with her. She claims that my less than hospitable motions that morning had ‘killed his motivation’ for conversation. I ignored her jabbing and grabbed my paperwork that I had left when I went to the meeting with Shane then motioned for Monique to follow me out the door. I said goodbye to Shane after Monique finished explaining the sound system to him, and we left the hotel talking quietly on our way to the parking lot.

Monique set up the tracking and GPS device that we needed to find our meeting’s address when we finally reached the rental car and I carefully set our bags in the back seat while surveying the surrounding area- no one seemed to be paying any attention to us. As soon as I started the car Monique turned on the radio and we sang along to Taylor Swift until we reached the freeway.

“So what had you in such a good mood when I got back?” I asked, unable to hide my suspicions any longer.

“Oh, you noticed? It was nothing…” She trailed off, obviously distracted by my question.

“No,” I prodded, “I want to know what happened. You can trust me, you know. We’re best friends Mon, and I can honestly say that you know everything about me-no secrets. What happened?” Monique gave me a look that read ‘really? After everything I found out in the past three days you’re asking me to trust you?’ but I ignored her, distracted by a black motorcycle in the rear-view mirror.

“Nothing happened, exactly,” she replied, drawing me out of my daydreaming of riding on a black Harley.

“My mom called is all. We talked for a while, and I was just happy to hear from her. My sister’s back in town,” she explained, and I nodded my head so that she would continue, “They were both happy to talk to me. I haven’t seen Jessica in forever! Hopefully I’ll be home in time to see her before she heads back to college.”

She continued her rambling about everything she’s missing at home and I listened

intently, happy for the distraction. I was glad to see her keep a positive attitude about her job- unlike myself- and was happy to see that she saw contact with her family via phone as a good thing instead of a negative one. I smiled and nodded at the appropriate times and laughed with her, but my mind was elsewhere. I still couldn’t get that motorcycle out of my head. Monique’s story came to a close just as I pulled off of the freeway and made my way to the museum she was scheduled to meet congressman Scott at.

I noticed that the black motorcycle was still going in the same direction as us, but didn’t put much thought into it. A lot can go on in a busy city like Balboa and I had other things to worry about; the pretty black motorcycle was not something to obsess over.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half,” I reminded Monique as she grabbed her bag from the back of the car. “If anything happens I have my cell phone.” I assured her when I saw how nervous she was. “ Although, keep in mind I’m at a meeting too. If you call twice in a row,” I continued, “I’ll assume you’re in serious danger. Voicemail or not.” Monique nodded solemnly. I hoped against all else that she did well with the congressman and that my brief training in dire situation handling I just gave her wouldn’t come in handy any time soon.

“See you later Hannah,” she said pleasantly, walking swiftly into the art museum.

I headed off to my meeting as soon as the door closed behind her and arrived at Balboa park within five minutes.  In an attempt to distract myself I delved into the role of innocent bystander, enjoying it way too much as I walked through the park into the building, amiably introducing myself and moving through the meeting with ease trying to forget about the sick feeling in my gut when I had left Monique at the museum.