Now You See Me. Kris Fletcher

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      CHAPTER TWO

      J.T. STOOD IN THE cramped upstairs bathroom of his mother’s home bright and early the next morning, carefully peeling the backing from the temporary tattoo he’d applied to his arm.

      “There,” he said to the lumpy mutt lying half in the bathroom, half in the hall. “It’s not a heart that says Mom, but it should do the trick.”

      Charlie—the latest in a string of mongrels—yawned, obviously not impressed with the way the morning sun gleamed off the stylized maple leaf now adorning J.T.’s biceps. J.T. shrugged, wadded up the paper and tossed it toward the trash, congratulating himself when he hit it the first time. Courage bolstered, he turned to the mirror to see if he passed muster.

      Good. He looked only half as idiotic as he felt.

      He’d left his hair uncombed, both to increase the rumpled look and to hide the gray that had started taking hold. A day’s worth of stubble paraded across his jaw. The bags under his eyes were a by-product of flying across time zones, but they added to the seedy appearance. An earring would have been a nice touch, but he had his limits.

      Black biking shorts and an electric blue muscle shirt completed the mugger-in-training look. All he needed was a motorcycle. But he’d spent years learning caution and common sense since leaving town, and he wasn’t about to abandon them completely. He’d settle for Rollerblades and hope they were enough to cause a stir.

      Satisfied that he looked vaguely reminiscent of the delinquent teen he’d once been, he stepped over Charlie and crept down the stairs, hoping he could make his escape without his mother hearing. She would have to see him like this in time, but he didn’t want to ruin her breakfast.

      “J.T.?”

      He should have known. The minute he walked into town, his luck turned tail and hopped the next flight out.

      He nearly tripped over the damned stealthy dog and steeled himself for the worst.

      Iris Delaney stood in the hall, thinner than she’d ever been in his life, snug in a white housecoat festooned with the flowers she’d been named for. She had a mug cradled in her hands and an expression of sheer horror on her face.

      Wait for it....

      She opened and closed her mouth. Raised one hand to her lips. Lowered it again.

      At last she spoke.

      “Make me a happy woman. Tell me you’re going jogging and then you’ll shower and get dressed for real.”

      “Sorry, Ma. What you see is what you get.”

      “Do I dare ask why?”

      She could ask, but he wasn’t sure he could explain. He knew that when he left town, he’d broken her heart. Her hurt was compounded when she realized that no matter what he did—graduating from university, getting his PhD, moving to Tucson to teach high school and the occasional university class—no one wanted to hear about it. She’d been deprived of both her son and her bragging rights. She didn’t need to know that he’d already been tried and condemned on his first day back.

      “Let’s say I’m giving the people exactly what they want to see.” He kissed the top of her head and swiped her mug with every intention of helping himself. One whiff of the contents made him hand it back, fast.

      “What the he—heck is that?”

      Iris rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re leaving here dressed like a hoodlum but you won’t say hell in front of your mother?”

      “I figured you’d wash my mouth out with soap. What is it?”

      “Astragalus tea. Strengthens immunity and enhances body energy and defenses.”

      So she was trying to build herself back up. Good.

      “When was your last doctor’s appointment?”

      “About three weeks ago. Maybe longer.” When he started to speak, she shushed him with a shake of her head. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine now.”

      “You’ve said that before.”

      “Mothers СКАЧАТЬ