Haunting-Adeline

Oh, fuck me.
“Mark!” I exclaim in surprise, forcing a smile onto my face. I’ve never
been very good at ac ng, especially when I have to pretend to be glad to
see a pedophile standing behind me.
Make that four pedophiles.
With him is Claire, and three other elderly men. I vaguely recognize
them, and assume they’re poli cians of some caliber as well.
“What are the odds? I didn’t know you came here,” Mark says, his eyes
consistently straying to Daya. “Who’s your friend?”
Daya smiles, though she doesn’t even try to make hers seem genuine.
“Daya,” she answers for me.
Sensing her indifference, Mark flashes a ght smile. “Well, it’s very nice
to meet you. Addie, these are my colleagues. Jack, Robert, and Miller.”
We exchange pleasantries, all the while inching up in the line.
“So where is Zack?” Mark asks, peering around me as if a man well over
six feet would be hiding behind me.
“He went to find a bathroom,” I lie. I don’t know why I do, there’s no
reason to. But I have a gut feeling that if Mark thinks Daya and I are here
alone, that maybe he’ll pull something shady.
“Speaking of Zack,” Miller cuts in. “I heard you two are quite the
lovebirds. How did you meet?”
My heart drops, and for a moment, I think maybe Mark might’ve found
out about the movie theater incident. But then I remember Zade assured
me the cameras have been wiped when he drove me home.
Miller looks like he needs to be carrying an oxygen tank around with
him. Mark is well into his eigh es, and I’m sure the other men aren’t far
off, but Miller in par cular seems as if he’s defying gravity by standing
upright.
I spin the same made-up story that Zade did in Bailey’s, hoping that the
knives usually in my eyes when dealing with my shadow are replaced with
hearts.
Claire asks a few ques ons of her own, her voice demure. Like how long
we’ve been together, and if we’re planning on ge ng married soon.
Sweat lines my hairline, the lies spilling from my mouth like the
fantas cal worlds from my fingers when I write. Luckily, it takes only a few