Free Dirty Little Secret by Jennifer Echols Page B

beamed at me, pleased with his half-truth.
    “And he said yes?” I asked incredulously. It seemed impossible that after I’d agonized for an hour over my death sentence, Sam had fixed everything with a simple lie.
    “All he told me was to bring you back in one piece,” Sam said, “which sounded to me like he’s letting you go. He likes me.”
    “Really?” I squeaked. I wanted to go—more than anything. But maybe Sam was making this up. He was lying to me about my granddad giving me permission, and he was planning to sneak me out of the house somehow. My granddad wouldn’t believe me when I tried to explain later. He would tell my parents, and there went Vandy. There went the hope I’d been clinging to for the past year that I would find myself again when I got out from under this family.
    But Sam sounded absolutely sincere as he said, “I’ve been coming here since I was little, you know.”
    “Oh,” I said, remembering that Sam had guessed who my granddad was as soon as I mentioned my fake last name. “So as long as I’m with you, I can do what I want? That’s some power you have over people.”
    “Isn’t it? I’ve fooled them all! They have no idea their trust is way misplaced.” He winked at me.
    “Wow! You are one talented guy.”
    “I don’t know. What does it say about me that girls’ grandfathers reverse their punishment when I step in the room? That’s kind of disturbing.”
    “He must think you won’t lay a hand on me.”
    Sam’s eyes brightened. With a small smile playing across his mouth, he said quietly, “We’ll see.” He nodded toward my closet. “I’ll go back downstairs while you change. Do you have any other charges you want me to get you out of while I’m down there? Parking tickets? Bank robberies?”
    I looked down at my T-shirt. “What do you want me to wear?”
    “I believe in you. Just give it another try. The band is countingon you. And don’t forget to bring the guitar case down casually, like, ‘Hey, Sam, you totally left your guitar case upstairs! It’s totally empty and not suspicious at all!’ ” He backed out of the room, then paused. “By the way, your granddad told me you were upset with him and you hadn’t eaten your dinner. You need to eat. I’ll be working you hard tonight.” He flinched as he heard his own words. “That didn’t come out quite right.” He pulled the door shut.
    I stood there stunned for a moment, not believing what had happened. In the past year I’d gotten used to bad shit happening out of the blue. This was good—the best—and I wasn’t convinced it was real until I heard Sam’s footsteps headed down the creaky wooden staircase.
    I sprang into action, running for the tiny closet with a tinier space cleared out for my dress bags, which I’d lifted whole from my closet at home, lacking the energy last weekend to pick and choose what to bring. Sam had said he wanted me to look older. Facial hair wasn’t an option, but I could definitely dress like a college student. I ripped through one of the bags for the dress I had in mind, black sprigged with red rosebuds. I’d worn it at a festival and Julie had worn a matching one. At the time they’d looked countrified. Now, though, the dress could pass for sexy vintage, especially since I’d gained another half a bra cup size.
    I pulled the dress on over my lacy black bra. As I’d thought, I had actual cleavage, not imitation cleavage that Ms. Lottie constructed out of tissues stuffed into my Dolly costume. My bra straps showed underneath the thin straps of the dress. Back when Julie and I had worn the dresses as costumes, she hadn’t needed a bra at all, and my mom had bought me a strapless bra. She never would have let me out of the house with my bra straps showing like this—but she wasn’t around.
    I stepped into the red cowgirl boots I’d worn with the outfit back then. They still fit. I slipped on dangling red earrings and bracelets faceted enough to sparkle in