Randall #01 - The Best Revenge by Anne R. Allen Read Free Book Online Page A

Sorry, but I’m in an awful rush.”
    As the phone clicked to a buzz, Camilla looked blankly at the remaining coins in her palm. Halfway to California and now she had no reason to go. She had no reason to go anywhere. She was pretty sure she couldn’t drive to Samoa.
    California . Wait. She did know somebody. She flipped through the address book and there it was—scrawled in purple marker across a whole page: 210 Starlight Drive, La Jolla, CA. Even the phone number. She dialed.
    When Wave Nelson’s familiar, bouncy voice answered, Camilla had to fight the urge to cry.
    “Camel? Camel, is that you? Where the hell are you? I can barely hear you.”
    “Somewhere near Amarillo, Texas.”
    “That’s like, a joke, right?”
    “I’m on my way to Los Angeles.” Camilla tried to sound casual.
    “Awesome! I’m a couple of hours south of L.A. You’ll have to visit. Come in a couple of weeks and I’ll have my own place. We found this cool house down in Ocean Beach—me and my friend Jennifer. She’s a model at Neiman-Marcus—and we can move in next week, if we can find another roommate. It’s got a hot tub…”
    “You need a roommate?”
    “Yeah. The rent’s only five hundred a month, but we don’t have the bucks for first and last. Jen had a roommate lined up who had cash, but she O.D.’d or got pregnant or something.”
    “I’ve got money in a savings account in Connecticut! I can cover it!”
    “You want to be our roommate? What about L.A.?”
    “I’m flexible.” This would solve everything.
     “Try to be here by Friday, OK? So we can sign the papers.”
     Camilla had no idea how many days it was until Friday. Her brain seemed on hold as she made her way back to the table and her cold coffee.
    She kept thinking she saw Clint Eastwood, wearing a straw cowboy hat, staring at her from the shadows at the other end of the diner. She made several attempts to get the waitress’s attention so she could pay her bill, but the woman was busy discussing Elizabeth Taylor’s weight with a man behind the counter. The other tables were empty. All Camilla wanted now was to get back to her motel room and sleep.
    Finally she walked up to the counter and asked for the bill.
    “It’s been taken care of, hon,” the woman said, nodding her orange head toward the far end of the diner, where the man in the cowboy hat stood in the shadows picking his teeth with a wooden match. He grinned. His smile glinted with gold fillings. He didn’t look like Clint Eastwood any more.
    Quickly, she walked to the door and pushed. It wouldn’t open. She pushed again.
    “Oh, that’s locked, hon,” said the waitress. “We close at eight.” She looked significantly at the clock above the counter, which gave the time as eight thirty-five. “I’ll unlock it for you.”
    As the waitress fiddled with keys, the man with the toothpick came toward them.
     “Howdy, pretty lady.” He tipped his hat like a movie cowboy. His smile was creepy.
    The waitress finally got the door open and Camilla rushed outside, but the man followed and reached for her shoulder. His hand felt heavy and hot.
    She smiled without meeting his eyes.
    “Are you the person who paid for my dinner? You didn’t need to do that. Here. Let me pay you back.” She reached into her purse. “I have plenty of money.”
    “I doubt that.” The man grinned as he glanced at the raw edges of her carefully frayed dancer-style sweatshirt, cut-off Calvins, and distressed-silk Issey Miyake jacket.
    She pulled a ten-dollar bill from her wallet. She knew she’d be wasting her breath trying to tell him her outfit cost considerably more than he made in a month.
    He pushed her money away.
    “My pleasure ma’am. I’m always happy to help a girl who’s down on her luck.”
    “My luck is just fine.” She flushed as she told the stupid lie.
    “Let me walk you to your car. You don’t know what kind of weirdoes might be hanging around at this time of night.”
    She had a very good