Half Lies Read Free

later.” So I wandered around for a bit and then went to the Bean Counter. Sam, the barista (remember him? I certainly do!), said hello and asked me if I wanted anything. Of course I did, but I didn’t have any money so I told him that I was waiting for someone.
    Sam said, “Well, would you like a drink while you’re waiting?”
    “Is it OK if I just wait?”
    “Sure.”
    He asked, “You waiting for the same guy as last time?”
    “Yes. We didn’t really set a time.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “He’s called Gabriel. He’s my brother.”
    “Your brother?” Sam smiled at me (and I smiled back).
    Sam has a lovely smile (doesn’t everyone?) but he really is nice and good-looking and calm. I get the impression nothing gets him flustered or annoyed.
    I hoped Sam would stay to chat, but he had to go and clean up as it was near closing time. I read a newspaper and a bit later Sam came to sit with me.
    “Your brother isn’t very reliable.”
    “No. Well, mostly he is, but sometimes he isn’t . . .”
    “Do you want a drink? On me?” I think Sam had worked out I didn’t have any money—I mean, no one would sit there like that otherwise. So I moved to the counter while he made my coffee (extremely slowly—or was I imagining that?). He asked where I came from, so I said, “I was born in France; lived in France and Switzerland.” (I didn’t list the other ten zillion countries.)
    “Your English is good.”
    “My mother was English. We always spoke English with her. French with my dad.”
    I thought he was going to ask about the “was” but he said, “So there’s just you and your brother?”
    “And my dad. He’s Swiss.”
    “Your accent sounds English to me.”
    “Your accent sounds American to me.”
    He smiled (perfect teeth!). “My mom’s from Tampa, my dad’s from Tampa, my brother’s from Tampa, I’m from Tampa. It’s a Tampa accent, I guess.” It’s a very sexy, slow accent. And he has a habit of pushing his hair back (blond, straight). His eyes are light brown and he has tanned skin. Sam is sort of golden. Golden Boy.
    I had my coffee and the shop closed and Sam hung around with me for ten minutes until my brother appeared, and all the time I was hoping Gab would be even later. When I walked to my brother, I looked back at Sam—the sun was setting and everything was glowing gold.
    So that was pretty much a perfectly perfect afternoon.
     
    23rd February, 2013
    Bored. Gab and I are just hanging around the house. I want to go to Tampa to see Sam, but not sure if that makes me seem too keen.
     
    24th February, 2013
    Gab disappeared and has been gone all day and is still not back (it’s now nearly midnight).
     
    25th February, 2013
    We were all reunited at breakfast. Gab had a pile of cash but wouldn’t say how he got it. I ended up shouting at Dad, telling him that it was his fault that Gab was having to steal, and if Gab got into trouble then, like everything else bad in our lives, it was down to Dad. He opened a bottle of wine, took a swig and said, “You sound just like your mother.” Then he walked out of the room and into his studio.
    Gab just said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m careful.” Which is of course a load of CRAP. And I told him that and then threw some things at him (plates and a pan that were to hand) and then I drove into Tampa (I admit I took some of the stolen cash and I’m not sure I should be driving but I was angry).
    I went to the Bean Counter and Sam spent his lunch break with me. I told him I’d argued with my dad. Of course I couldn’t tell him the real reason for the argument, all the witch stuff. Sometimes I think the hardest thing about being a witch is not being able to talk about it. But anyway Sam was a great listener. He asked about Mum and I told him she’d died in an accident, but a huge part of me wanted to tell him the truth. I don’t like lying to him.
    I spent all afternoon there and Sam sat with me when it was quiet. We talked lots.