Entanglements by P R Mason

I’d be too worried.”
    “There is no need." Rom turned a brilliant smile on Mom. "I will attend her presence every moment.” Charm oozed from his every pore. “I vow she will come to no harm while I have breath.”
    “We’ll just be driving around in his car, Mom. If we see anybody weird, we’ll drive away and call the police.”
    Mom sized Rom up for a few seconds. “All right." She sighed. "I’m trusting you with my baby. Don’t let me down.”
    An indecipherable expression crossed Rom’s face before he nodded.
    Mom turned to me. “But ten p.m. curfew. Not a minute later."
    “K,” I said with a smile and kissed her cheek. I scooted us out of there before she could change her mind.
    Rom walked me to the passenger door of his car and held it open.
    “You don’t have to drive me,” I said, hesitating. “That was just an excuse to tell my mom so she’d let me out of the house.”
    “I came to you because your presence is my desire.” He swept a hand toward the open car.
    I tried to hide my pleased smile as I got in. But before he could close the door, Petra’s Buick came screeching to a halt beside us. The window lowered.
    “Hey, where you two going?” Chase asked through the passenger window.
    “And can we come along?” Senji requested from the backseat.
    “Yeah.” Petra leaned over Chase to yell out the passenger window. “We wanna come.”
    The bad news was the three of them would be a buffer between Rom and me. The good news was the three of them would be a buffer between Rom and me.
    “Whether there is room is uncertain,” Rom commented.
    “Sure. Get in.” I nodded. “You three can cram into the back right?”
    “As long as I don’t have to sit on Senji’s lap,” Chase jumped out of the Buick.
    “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll sit on your lap,” Petra said.
    Judging by the scowl on his face, Rom wasn’t exactly thrilled about the company. He wasn’t any happier about going to Harold Anderson’s house, but he did it anyway.
    The historian’s old farmhouse didn’t appear any more inviting at dusk. The five of us mounted the stairs and the dogs I’d heard earlier barked again. This time when I knocked, Anderson opened the door almost immediately. I would have considered this progress except he stood there holding a revolver.
    “Kizzy Taylor,” the historian greeted me. “Born October 26, 1995. You have a 3.2 GPA. Mother is Sarah Taylor now Moreno.”
    I’d left this guy my name and telephone number. Apparently, he’d been doing a little homework.
    “You had a brother named Adam. Your father is Stephen Taylor now in jail awaiting trial for—“
    I held up a hand to ward off his words. “That’s enough,” I said.
      He turned his gaze on Senji.
    “And you, Senji Matsuki, were born on October 11,1995. Your dog’s name is Pokemon and you have a 3.9 GPA.—”
    “Woohoo! 3.9? Way to go, bro.” Chase gave him a high five.
    “My father doesn’t think it’s so hot,” Senji muttered
    “What?” Petra said. “It’s practically perfect.”
    “Hello? Japanese,” Senji drawled. “He wants perfect not practically.”
    “Are we gonna keep talking about this guy’s GPA?” Anderson asked. “Don’t we have better things to talk about?”
    “You’re the one who started it,” I retorted “What’s the point?”
    “The point is I know about you,” he said to me. "And I know about you, and you, and you,” he said pointedly to Senji, then Petra, then Chase. “You don’t want to mess with me.”
    “What did you find out about me?” Petra clapped her hands while giving an eager hop. “Am I adopted? That would explain why I’m treated like Cinderella BP at home.”
    “BP?” Anderson's brows converged in confusion.
    “Before Prince.”
    “You’re not adopted,” Anderson replied.
    “This man can provide us no assistance,” Rom said with disgust. “This exercise has the ridiculous about it.”
    Anderson walked onto the porch and stood directly in front of