Our Little Secret Read online

  Our Little Secret

  Haley Pierce

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Carrie Anne

  2. Evan

  3. Carrie Anne

  4. Evan

  5. Carrie Anne

  6. Evan

  7. Carrie Anne

  8. Evan

  9. Carrie Anne

  10. Evan

  11. Carrie Anne

  12. Evan

  13. Carrie Anne

  14. Evan

  15. Carrie Anne

  16. Evan

  17. Carrie Anne

  18. Evan

  19. Carrie Anne

  20. Evan

  21. Carrie Anne

  22. Evan

  23. Carrie Anne

  24. Evan

  25. Carrie Anne

  26. Evan

  27. Carrie Anne

  28. Evan

  29. Carrie Anne

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  Prologue

  There was a knock on the bars, and I dragged myself to a sitting position. My head was pounding, but I was used to it. That was typical when you didn’t get enough sleep, and jail was not exactly the place that you got the best sleep of your life.

  “Evan Drake,” said the voice behind the knock on the bars. “You’re done. Today’s the day.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Because I was just getting used to being here.” Despite the fact that I was desperate for fresh air, I knew that I had to keep up my attitude. This was the only way I could survive anytime I went into the slammer; keep up the attitude and keep up the energy.

  I was basically an expert at being in prison by now. If you asked the rest of the career criminals in here, they would say that I was not a good criminal. I didn’t really commit any high-profile crimes, because I didn’t see the need to murder and break things. My crimes were mostly petty things, sticky fingers and fast hands. However, I had done it so many times that the big-time murders were starting to know the intimate details of my personal life. They thought I was bad at it, but the truth was, I was just at it so much that I was bound to get caught.

  Everyone I knew lived a life of crime. It was impossible to survive in this world without it, or so I thought. I didn’t really know anyone who didn’t commit some sort of crime to survive, whether it was cheating the food stamp system or stealing wallets.

  “Get out, Evan,” the guard said, pulling open the door. “You’ll be back soon enough.”

  “I have no doubt,” I said with a grin. “See you soon?”

  “Go to processing,” he answered. “You know the way. And try not to come back, because you are a pain in the neck.”

  “Ciao,” I said, standing up and sauntering out. I had been in here for nearly 2 weeks and it was the shortest sentence I had ever gotten. I think they were letting me out for good behaviour, but I was also aware that I was pretty annoying and they were probably getting rid of me before I drove them mad.

  “Evan!” one of my fellow prisoners called as I passed their cell. “Where you headed? You out?”

  “I’m out, but not for long,” I said with a grin. “You know that this is my second home.”

  “I know, you ain’t good for anything else!”

  “What, you want me to go to school and get a degree?” I teased. “Make something of myself?”

  “Nah, you’d be awful at that,” he chuckled, as I headed towards processing. I knew my way through this place like the back of my hand, and despite the fact that I still had to go through the proper channels, I felt like I was out on the pavement again within four minutes.

  I was free, but for how long? I didn’t know what to do in the outside world but gamble and take what wasn’t mine. It certainly wouldn’t be long until I walked through these gates again. Second chances and rehabilitation were for people who could actually turn their life around and make something of themselves. They were for people who could contribute to society; raise a family; build a future. They weren’t for people like me.

  1

  Carrie Anne

  The minute I stepped out of the airport and into the city, it was like coming home. It hadn't been home for nearly 9 years, but I remembered every sight and sound. The farm in Craik may have been where I spent my teenage years, but Baton Rouge was where I had grown up, and it had always been home for me.

  As I pulled my suitcase through the airport, there were several thoughts that swirled through my mind. I needed to remember the local bus routes to my new apartment that I had rented sight unseen. I needed to get a local phone number, because the one from Craik was going to cost me a fortune. I needed to go to the university to make sure that the rest of my paperwork was in order and then I needed to take the bus from there down to the Casino to see about the job posting they had.

  I hadn't originally intended to work all the way through my PhD, but when I added the cost of living in the city to the pitiful amount of grants they were giving me, I knew that I had to do something. The university offered me as much work as they could, assisting in lower level classes, and running seminars, but all that did was make my entire schooling free. If I wanted to actually survive, I needed a job that paid well and had a minimal number of hours attached to it. After some research, I figured a waitress job in a high stakes casino that mostly operated at night and on weekends would be perfect. I had heard that jobs like that could be flexible, which would be great if I needed extra cash or if I needed to drop a few shifts because of classwork.

  The only issue was that I didn't really have any experience. My parents owned a farm in Craik, and I helped out around town in the various local businesses when I could. The only restaurant in town was also the local inn and post office, so I had a feeling it wasn't exactly transferable skills.

  Are you back? Did you land?

  My phone beeped with a message and I looked down to see Jenny's icon pop up. It made me smile to think that I was now within 10 miles of her, instead of over 400.

  Jenny had been my best friend since we were four years ago and we had kept in touch all these years. We had been in every class at school, and despite our radically different upbringings, we were like twins. We liked to dress alike, eat the same things for lunch, and even had crushes on the same boys. When my parents inherited the farm and we moved away, I felt like my heart would break. Now that I was back in town, I felt like we were going to pick up right where we left up.

  I did, I replied. Apartment, school, casino and then maybe we can hang out?

  Yes! Jenny texted back. I'll be waiting for your message. So excited!

  It was like we were 10 years old again, and borrowing our parent's cell phones to send each other exclamation marks and happy faces. My parents never minded, but Jenny's did because their phone charged them for every message. It wasn't often that I realized that Jenny was growing up in a different situation than me, but moments like that brought the realization home. While I lived in a middle-class neighbourhood, and got most things I asked for, Jenny's parents struggled to even put food on the table for her and her older brother, Evan. Both of them had done things that would be considered wrong by the law just to survive, and I never judged them, even when I wanted to. I had never experienced that kind of poverty; that kind of hardship, and it made me count my blessings every day.

  Even now, as I boarded the public transit bus from the airport to my apartment, choosing the cheap fare over an expensive Uber, I knew that if things got really bad, my parents would help me out. I was choosing to support myself, but if my bank account read zero, I would never be homeless. Jenny and Evan had faced that reality most days.

  The apartment was anywhere near as spacious as the farmhouse, but it
would do. It was clean, it had the space I needed to study, cook and sleep and I could walk to the University.

  My phone beeped again as I emptied my large suitcase, and I picked it up, expecting Jenny to have a plan for us to meet.

  It wasn't Jenny, however, that was texting me, but Timothy.

  I bit my lip as I read the message that came through, pulling me back to the farm.

  How's the big city? Miss home yet?

  Timothy had grown up on the neighbouring farm, and from the moment I met him, we had got along. I thought farm life was exciting, and I wanted to learn everything about it. Timothy had farming in his blood, and it surprised no one when we started walking down main street holding hands. He was my first kiss at age 12, and he proposed to me when we were 16, sitting on a hayloft in his large red barn. Everyone thought we were going to get married and have a million children, combining our farms to make the largest property west of the border.

  But it wasn't long after he proposed that the memory of the city began to get stronger. Farm life was wearing on me, and I wanted more than a world that only existed on our property lines. I wanted to help people, I wanted to travel, I wanted to explore. I wanted to help people, more than just making quilts and holding raffles. I went to school for human rights at the university that was an hour and a half drive away, with no idea what I wanted to do with that degree. Timothy didn't want me to go too far, so I suffered the commute every day. The bachelors turned into a masters, and I still wasn't satisfied. I needed my PhD, and the best program for that was back in Baton Rouge.

  Timothy could have come with me, but he refused to. His heart was in the farm and mine was not, so we were at an impasse. We hadn't spoken in the weeks leading up to me leaving, so I wasn't sure where we stood. On one hand, he hadn't even seen me off. On the other hand, was I going to throw away over 8 years together after a few weeks?

  I had no idea what I wanted to say to him, and so I ignored the message and finished unpacking. I still needed to get to the university and then over to the Casino before the sun set, and I was already exhausted.

  Grabbing a coffee at the corner store, I followed the GPS on my phone to the registrar's building, presenting all the paperwork I thought I needed.

  I never told anyone how much going to school here had been my dream. Perhaps it was because I had romanticized my memories of Baton Rouge, or perhaps I had been one of those few who had just know from a young age

  “Do you have form 2-C?” said the registrar, as I sat down.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “I was told I didn't need that one because I grew up here. I mean, I was away for awhile...”

  “You put your permanent address as Craik,” she pointed to my other forms. “So, you need it because you don't classify as a local.”

  “But...I mean, I live here now, let me put my apartment down,” I said, frustrated.

  “Is that your permanent address?” she asked. “You will never leave? You won't change apartments and move in with roommates at the end of the semester because you make new friends?”

  “I---no, I don't know,” I stuttered. She shoved the form in front of me. It had a least forty fields to fill out. I glanced at my watch in a panic. “Can I fill this out after? I just have somewhere to be.”

  The registrar glared at me.

  “More important than your schooling?” she asked, unimpressed.

  “No, I just....” I sighed, taking the form and standing up. “I'll just fill this out over here.”

  I knew that rush hour in the city could be brutal, and the ad for waitresses said to come before 6pm. If I scribbled quickly, I could still make it.

  Do you want me to meet you at the Casino? Jenny's text came through. We could have your homecoming party there.

  Maybe not the best idea if I want to work there, I replied. Is there somewhere else we could go?

  Yes, party pooper, she answered and I was tempted to send her a gif before I remembered I was short on time.

  Frantically, I went back to the form, filling out the last of fields and scribbling my signature at the bottom.

  There was a lineup at the register, but I cut to the front, earning dirty glares.

  “Sorry, I was here first, sorry, excuse me....” I said, navigating my way to the front. “Here, is that enough? Is there anything else?”

  The registrar raised her eyebrow, and shook her head.

  “That's all. Good luck. A graduate degree requires a lot of organization.”

  I knew it was a shot at me, but I didn't care. I put down the pen I had borrowed and flew out of the room, my heels clicking as I walked towards the bus stop.

  I had no idea what the dress code at the casino was, but I had chosen a tight red dress that came down to my knees, with long sleeves. I had never been curvy, despite farm food and working hard. I had always been thin, and my hair had always been pin straight, usually braided or up in a ponytail. The little bit of makeup I had managed to throw on was all that I owned.

  The casino was, to my dismay, a lot farther than I remembered. The bus ride in traffic took almost 2 hours, which got me literally in the door just before 6pm.

  I stood in the near empty lobby, looking at my phone to find the contact name for the head waitress. It said to go down the stairs to the right, and find one of the cocktail waitresses who was on the floor, and they could find Avril, the head waitress.

  There were two staircases, and I took the one to the right, running faster than I should. My resume was in my hand and my other hand was up in my hair, trying to give a quick smooth over, and I must have looked ridiculous.

  It was in that position that I ran smack into the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. Both of us went tumbling to the floor, and instead of feeling the impact, all I could do was stare at his eyes.

  2

  Evan

  When my alarm went off, I nearly smashed it before I remembered why I set in the first place. It was 4 o'clock and I needed to get up if I wanted a free dinner before I sat down to the tables.

  I rolled over, cracking open my eyes and sitting up. The single bed I had was a bit too short for me, but it was ten times more comfortable than sleeping on the floor, so I didn't mind.

  I ran a hand over my face, trying to get my mind to wake up. I thought I got enough sleep, crashing around 6:00 am, but I still felt like I could sleep for another ten hours.

  It wasn't a typical person's work schedule, but it had been my schedule for the past two years, and most days, it suited me just fine. Not getting up at the crack of dawn, and dragging myself to a desk job or construction; not working for someone else's dream, these were all good things. I liked gambling; I was good at it, and most nights, I won. I could hold my own at the high roller tables with millionaires who didn't care what they lost, and I could usually out play even the most senior players.

  Lately, though, it felt like my luck had run out. Maybe it was hitting 30, or maybe Lady Luck had finally left me, who knew. Regardless, I had not been winning lately. I was in debt to so many loan sharks that I actually lost count of who I owed what to.

  There was always my Robin Hood routine-- taking from the rich and giving to the poor, which happened to be me. But even my slippery fingers seemed to be failing me lately, unable to move fast enough to even find something I could take to the pawn shop.

  It had not been a good month, and I had to double down in the next little bit at the tables, or I would be evicted from the apartment I had called home for the past year.

  It wasn't much of an apartment, but I could walk to the casino that I found the most success at, and my neighbours were too wrapped up in their own drama to care that I came home at 6am every day smelling like a brewery and with wads of cash in my back pocket.

  It wasn't a bad life, really. It just wasn't good right now.

  Before I made my way to the shower, I stopped in my small kitchen, pouring myself two fingers of whisky. My father hadn't taught me much, but learning about the hair of the dog wa
s probably the one thing I thanked him for.

  My phone beeped as I swallowed and I took a moment to feel the burning liquor pass down my throat before I checked it.

  Hey.

  My sister younger sister, Jenny, was telepathic, or at least it seemed that way. She always seemed to know exactly when I was awake and started her daily barrage of messages within five minutes of me finding my feet.

  What's up? I asked, trying to at least be a half decent sibling. Do you need something?

  I don't always hit you up for money, you know she texted back. Sometimes I just want to tell you something.

  What do you want, sister? I asked, aching to get in the shower.

  Are you going to the casino tonight? She asked.

  How else am I going to make money? I replied, my head pounding.

  Ok, I might see you there, she responded.

  Why? I asked.

  Surprise, she said, and wouldn't answer anything after that.

  It annoyed me when she did that, but I didn't really have time to waste. If I wanted to eat today, I had to get to the casino before 6pm, and I couldn't exactly walk in looking like I just woke up. They'd never allow me in the high rollers room, even though they knew me well at this point.

  The early bird buffet was normally populated with old timers and cheapskates, but it was the buffet that my best friend Avril, who was the head waitress, was in charge of, which meant I could walk right in without issue.