“You’re making it sound really complicated with all those steps, but sure, why not? It would’ve taken twenty minutes, tops.”
“How do you know how far away Shannon lives?”
“I went to a birthday party when she turned eight or something.” I suddenly remember that it was her ninth birthday, not her eighth, but if I correct myself, it’ll look like I’m floundering to make up a story on the spot. “Blake could’ve easily done this.”
“Do you really think he’d take the risk of getting caught?”
“Considering the things he’s said to my face without worrying that I’d beat him up, yes, I think he’d take the risk. He’d come up with some story about how he needed cough syrup or something and didn’t want to wake us up going through the medicine cabinets to find some, so he borrowed my car to drive to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy. And you know what? He probably really did buy some cough syrup so that if I called him a liar, he could whip out the bottle and say, ‘See, here it is.’ Or maybe the picture is Photoshopped. He seems like somebody who’d be good at Photoshop. Do you know any experts who could vouch for the authenticity of the picture?”
“No.”
“It’s either a picture of my stolen car, or it’s fake. Either way, I most definitely was not parked outside of Shannon’s house last night. With Blake’s snoring, I’m not getting enough sleep to be out gallivanting at night.” I think of something funny to say about that, but having learned from previous mistakes, I keep my mouth shut.
“Hold on,” Audrey says. A moment later she speaks again, “I got a new picture.”
“Of what?”
“You sharing a french fry with Melissa Ruggarth.”
“Oh.” I know that picture. “That one might be legit.”
Melissa and I were getting a burger and fries. One of the fries in my bag was so long that we each started eating one side of the fry, and somebody took a picture. It’s actually kind of adorable, though I do not describe it as such to Audrey.
“Why were you sharing a fry with Melissa?”
“It was last year before we were dating. Look at my hair.”
“Your hair looks the same as it does now.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then my hair is Photoshopped. Which is good, because now we know that Blake is digitally manipulating the pictures and didn’t actually steal my car.”
“Are you really trying to convince me that Blake Photoshopped your hair to make a picture from last year look more recent?”
“Yes! And I shouldn’t have to convince you of this! You should be saying, ‘Yep, that’s the next phase of Blake’s plan.’ We’re supposed to be teaming up against him.”
“What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.”
“What makes more sense? That I’m suddenly going after Gretchen, Bernadette, Lorelei, Shannon, and Melissa?”
“You did have a really good show. It could have boosted your confidence.”
“Ask Melissa. She’ll tell you that we shared the french fry a year ago.”
“Why am I only hearing about it now?”
“Because…because…because it’s a fry! One fry! A year ago! It was an amusing picture!”
“I wasn’t amused by it.”
“Look, I feel like there’s a cloud of paranoia forming over you, and that’s exactly what Blake wants. He’s trying to tear us apart. We can’t let him succeed.”
“I guess not,” says Audrey.
I can’t believe this. Blake’s plan is working. I could defend myself against any one of these false accusations, but the sheer volume is wearing Audrey down.
“You should come over,” I say. “You need to see the sincerity in my eyes.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll come get you.”
“No, I could use a bike ride. I’m leaving now.”
We hang up.
I have no idea how Blake thinks he can get away with this. None of these lies are going to hold up.
Unless he has a history of bribing people. Oh, wait…
I won’t worry about that for now.
And I won’t worry about losing Audrey. Once she has a moment to think about it (and as mentioned before, the opportunity to see the sincerity in my eyes), she’ll realize that it’s all a big con. I didn’t do anything wrong.
In the end, this is all for the best. If Blake is doing awful things to purposely destroy my relationship with Audrey, Mom won’t let him stay with us. Aunt Mary and Uncle Clark will just have to come back from Antarctica or Middle Earth or wherever their cruise ship is currently docked and collect their miserable excuse for a son.
It’s all going to be fine.
There’s a knock at the door.
It’s too soon for that knock to have come from Audrey, unless she was standing in my yard the whole time we were talking on the phone.
I peek out the window. It’s not Audrey or Blake. It’s Jennifer Render. You don’t know who she is, but if you’ve been paying attention during this chapter, you can probably figure out how she fits into the overall puzzle.
This ain’t good.
19.
Maybe I should pretend I’m not home.
This would be a brilliant idea, except that Jennifer saw me peeking out the window. She smiles and waves.
Okay, clearly, Blake has arranged for Jennifer to be here when Audrey arrives, so Audrey can say, “What is she doing here?” and I can say, “No, no, it’s not what it looks like!” and Jennifer can say, “But I thought you two had broken up!” and Audrey can storm off in tears.
That might be pushing it. That scenario would require Blake to know that I was going to suggest that Audrey come over to my house and then to send Jennifer over at the perfect time. Although, technically, this isn’t the perfect time. Jennifer’s here early enough that I can probably send her on her way before Audrey arrives. Still, Blake being able to coordinate the situation so well puts him into the “omniscient supervillain” category, and I don’t
