Текст книги "Painless"

Автор книги: Devon Hartford

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

“Can I watch?” he asked innocently.

I frowned. “I thought you were gay?”

“But this is a historic event,” he said, “and someone is going to have to document it. You’ll need proof. Otherwise, no one will ever believe it.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’m totally taking a picture of you two.”

“Can I shoot him?” Tiffany asked.

“Please,” I giggled. It only took about three seconds for my giggles to turn into tears of relief.

Chapter 25

SAMANTHA

Two of my fingernails still hadn’t grown completely back after I’d ripped them down to the quick the night I’d saved Tiffany. They had throbbed like crazy for days.

But now, they were a minor nuisance.

I sat in a row of chairs in a hallway on the second floor of the History and Social Sciences building, which was near the Dean’s office, awaiting my SDU tribunal hearing for supposedly stealing Tiffany’s credit card months ago.

I wore the same outfit I’d worn to court the day Christos had been on trial. Black blazer, gray pencil skirt, white blouse, black hose, and black pumps. My makeup was light, just enough to look professional.

The outfit seemed appropriate because now I was the one about to be on trial.

A woman wearing a frumpy business suit opened one of the doors off the hallway and leaned out. “You can come in now,” she said.

She held the door for me as I walked into a conference room. At the far end of the big wooden conference table, Dean Livingston sat at the head, wearing a suit, flanked by an older woman and a middle aged guy. Both wore suits and I assumed they were SDU administrators. Tiffany sat near them, a few seats down. Mr. Selfridge, my old boss from the museum, sat across from Tiffany. With any luck, he would be able to say something that helped my case. The woman who had let me in sat near the door, behind a laptop set up on the conference table.

I nodded at Mr. Selfridge and smiled at him.

He smiled back.

I wasn’t entirely sure where I was supposed to sit. But nobody seemed to be telling me where to go, so I chose a seat closer to the door, not wanting to get too close to Tiffany. Also, If I needed to beat a hasty retreat, I could slip out the door with no one noticing. Not.

At least this wasn’t an actual courtroom with the armed bailiff and the jury and the defense tables and all the rules. Knowing that I had a slight degree of control over things today eased my nerves slightly. It’s not like I would get hauled away in handcuffs if things went badly.

I set my coffee on the table and my book bag on the floor. There was no way I could get through this morning massacre without caffeine. I debated pulling my laptop out, but it’s not like I had case files to review, or whatever. All I was going to do was tell them what I knew, which wasn’t much, and hope they believed me.

I wished Christos had been here to hold my hand, but he had too much work to do on his paintings. It wasn’t like I would end up in jail if things went badly today. If I ended up getting kicked out of SDU, I’d see Christos every single day.

But I really, really hoped to avoid getting expelled. I’d worked too hard to throw it all away now. I didn’t want to stop taking more awesome art classes and seeing my friends every day. Because I knew if I got kicked out, no matter what anybody said, I would see a lot less of Madison, Romeo, and Kamiko.

Sigh.

Dean Livingston mumbled back and forth with the two administrators sitting beside him, then he turned to me, “Thank you for your patience, Miss Smith. I think we’re ready to begin?” He raised his eyebrows and glanced at everyone.

Nobody objected.

Dean Livingston folded his fingers on the files laying on the table in front of him. “As you know, Miss Smith,” he nodded at me, “the reason we’re here today is because Miss Kingston-Whitehouse has accused you of theft. Theft of her credit card, to be exact, while she was a visiting patron of the Eleanor M. Westbrook art museum, where you worked at the time.”

I wanted to say “I object!” but I wasn’t a lawyer and this wasn’t a courtroom. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut until they told me it was my turn to talk. Only then would I dive over the table and throttle Tiffany by the neck while demanding she tell the truth.

The Dean turned to Mr. Selfridge and said, “Mr. Selfridge would like to say a few words on your behalf, Miss Smith.”

I hadn’t expected that. I hoped he didn’t bad mouth me.

Mr. Selfridge stood up and smoothed his jacket. He clasped his hands in front of his waist and smiled at me. “Although I only had the pleasure of working with Miss Smith for a few short months, in that time I found her to be a diligent, hard working, forthright young woman. She always did her job, and did it well, was always pleasant with the visiting patrons, was never impatient, and she was always responsible.” He smiled at me before turning to the administrators. “I trusted Samantha implicitly, and had no concerns about leaving her in charge of the museum when I needed to step out for errands.”

Dean Livingston glanced up at Mr. Selfridge and said, “It is my understanding that you weren’t present at the time of the theft?”

“No,” Mr. Selfridge said apologetically, “I was in a meeting with the Provost of Adams College at the time. You know how Bill is about his meetings,” Mr Selfridge grinned.

The Dean smiled at him, “Yes I do.” Then his smile faded. “But you weren’t at the museum at the time of the incident?”

“Regrettably, no,” Mr. Selfridge said. “I was only present afterward, when Miss Kingston-Whitehouse returned for her credit card.”

The Dean nodded, as did the two administrators flanking him. The woman administrator shot me a quick glance. I gave her my best smile, trying to look innocent and pleasant.

She looked away. Had she already decided I was a guilty liar? I hoped not.

The Dean glanced at the papers in front of him and said, “Mr. Selfridge, am I correct in saying that you saw Miss Smith remove the stolen credit card from her wallet?”

“Yes.”

“But you never saw how it got there?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Mr. Selfridge,” the Dean finished. “You can sit down.”

Mr. Selfridge sat down and tossed a nervous smile in my direction.

I smiled back genuinely. He’d tried. I mean, what else could he say? He hadn’t seen how the card had gotten into my wallet. Heck, I’d been in the restroom when it had happened. For all I knew, Tiffany had hired ninjas to sneak into the museum and put it there.

It occurred to me at that moment that being in the restroom was possibly the worst alibi of all time. How was I supposed to prove it? Fish my old tampon out of the sewer somewhere and have it carbon dated to the time I’d used the ladies room? Yeah, right.

I had nothing.

“Miss Kingston-Whitehouse,” the Dean said, “Can we hear your version of events?”

Tiffany stood up to speak. She wore a sexy silver pencil skirt and a fitted lilac colored blouse that was only buttoned halfway up her cleavage. Her blonde hair wafted across her bosom. She looked ridiculously hot. I guess it was fitting. When the Queen shouted from her throne, “Off with her head!” she usually wore a fancy outfit.

The Dean, Mr. Selfridge, and the other male administrator looked hypnotized by Tiffany’s beauty. The woman administrator, rather than being catty, seemed similarly entranced.

Wasn’t it a fact that people tended to trust attractive people more than unattractive ones?

Even when it was a stranger?

If that was true, Tiffany was so beautiful in this moment that the administrators were going to believe every word she said. When I got up to speak, the Dean would already have a noose in his hands, and he’d be fingering the knots in preparation for my hanging. The guy next to him would be loading a rifle for my firing squad, and the woman administrator would be drawing poison into a syringe so she could give me a lethal injection right here on the spot.

Tiffany made a show of smoothing her skirt.

I had no idea what she was going to say. Maybe, just maybe, she might tell the truth. Naw. Who was I kidding? This was Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse. All she did in life was get her way. Oh well. Even if I got kicked out of SDU, she couldn’t take Christos away from me, and she couldn’t stop me from studying art.

Whatever.

Tiffany nodded at the Dean, “Dean Livingston, I don’t know where to begin.”

I did. How about the truth?

“You see…” Tiffany said nervously.

She better be nervous. When I lied through my teeth, I usually was.

“Um…” Tiffany stammered, “this has all been a big misunderstanding. I, uh, well…I sort of put my credit card in Samantha’s wallet myself.”

I think I actually heard wet popping noises as everyone’s eyes jumped out of their eye sockets. That was of course ridiculous. Because I needed to get my ears checked. There was no way I’d heard Tiffany just say what I thought she’d said.

Tiffany looked very nervous while the administrators gaped at her.

“Come again?” the Dean said.

“I put my credit card in her wallet…” Tiffany said, “…as a, uh, prank. I don’t know why. It was a stupid thing to do. And I let her get in trouble.” Tiffany turned to me, a pained look on her face. “I’m really sorry, Samantha. I was a total jerk for doing that.” She turned to the administrators. “I know, I’m probably in big trouble now. That’s fine. I’ll accept whatever you guys decide to do.” She sat back down.

The Dean and the two administrators muttered back and forth. I couldn’t make out what they were saying because they sat so far away, but I could see them raising their eyebrows in disbelief.

I was as surprised as they were.

Wow, when Tiffany had stood up to speak two minutes ago, I had thought her hypnotizing beauty had been nothing but a devilish ruse covering her rotten core. I was wrong. It had been a reflection of her change of heart about me.

It turned out Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse was full of surprises, not shit, like I’d feared.

Wow.

I learned something new today.

People changed.

Even hateful bitches.

* * *

There was another Wombat staff meeting at Toasted Roast that afternoon. Justin had emailed everyone two days ago and said he was going to announce the winner of the campus-wide vote off between my drawing and Tammy Lemons’ for the new Wombat mascot today. I couldn’t wait to find out the results.

Was it possible for lightning to strike twice in one day? I crossed my fingers.

I met up with Romeo in front of the Main Library before going to the Student Center.

“Wow, Sam!” Romeo squeed, “you look hot as hell!”

I still wore my sexy outfit from the tribunal hearing.

“Do you have a job interview?” he asked enthusiastically. “Or are you going to walk into some corporate boardroom and wow a bunch of executives who make decisions that shape the world?”

“Stop, Romeo,” I giggled. “I had to wear it for my tribunal hearing.”

“How’d that go?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Tiffany admitted to putting her card in my wallet. She said it was just a prank.”

“What?” Romeo gaped. “You’re totally lying.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“Seriously hot,” Justin Tomlinson said suggestively, walking toward us from across the wide bridge that led back toward the Main Library. “You’re dressed to kill today, Samantha.” He looked me up and down.

“Yeah,” Romeo grinned, “she has an automatic with a silencer in her book bag and she’s going to use it later to assassinate some head of state after giving head to his state.”

“Romeo!” I chastised.

“What?” Romeo asked defensively. “No head of state would ever let you get close enough to assassinate him without seducing him first. Don’t you watch spy movies?”

I leaned toward Romeo and made a big show of staring into one of his ears.

“What are you doing, Sam?” he blurted, pulling away.

“I’m trying to see into that brain of yours so I can see all the crazy ideas floating around inside. It’s probably more fun than an amusement park in there,” I giggled. I leaned toward him again, peering intently.

Romeo swatted both hands at me repeatedly like a kitten at play. “Enough! They’re my ideas, and I charge admission!” He started laughing, still flailing with his hands.

I backed away before I got slapped, “I was wrong. It was just earwax.”

Justin crinkled his nose and laughed at us, looking super cute. “You guys are certifiably cray cray,” he laughed.

“Totally,” I said, smiling at Justin. I noticed his eyes twinkling at me. Yeah, he pretty much looked like he belonged on the cover of a teeny bopper magazine. But in a twenty year old sort of way that was swoony to all women under the age of forty.

Before I could look away, Justin turned to Romeo, his eyes still twinkling, and said, “Romeo, let me know what you charge for admission. I’d pay to see the crazy factory inside your head. Is there any way we can bottle it for The Wombat?”

“There is. I’ve been working with Willy Wonka, you know, the guy with the Chocolate Factory, to formulate a secret recipe. But we haven’t yet decided on whether to distill my genius into hard candies or chocolate bars.”

“I vote for hard candies,” Justin smiled, “they last longer and cost less.”

“Yes,” Romeo said seriously, “but, like an evil villain, my only goal is to fleece children of their allowances worldwide, so as to pad my own coffers.” He broke into a smile.

Justin was still smiling at him. “How do you do it?” he marveled. “You always have more ideas.” Justin leaned toward Romeo, sort of like I had earlier. But sort of not.

“What are you doing?” Romeo asked nervously, leaning away.

Justin beamed a smile at him. “I don’t believe Samantha when she said all she saw was earwax.”

“Uh, okay?” Romeo said uncertainly.

Justin grinned awkwardly and suddenly backed off, “It’s probably just earwax. Anyway, we should get to the Toasted Roast. It’s time for the staff meeting.”

Justin started walking toward the Student Center. Romeo and I followed.

We found Keith, Micah, Alyssa, and Tammy already sitting at two tables pushed together in the quad outside Toasted Roast.

“Hey, guys,” Justin said, sitting down.

Romeo and I found chairs.

“Believe it or not,” Justin said, “we got almost six thousand votes about the new Wombat mascot.”

“Wow,” Alyssa said.

“Shit,” Keith said, “and I didn’t think anybody read The Wombat anymore.”

“We’re fucking trend setters,” Micah said. “Of course they do.”

“What were the results already?” Tammy Lemons demanded.

Justin pulled a sheet of paper out of his book bag. It showed a screen grab printout of the poll results.

“It was a close race,” Justin said. “3,277 votes for Sam, 2,649 for Tammy. Congratulations, Sam! You won! We have our new mascot! Potty the Pot Smoking Wombat!”

“What?” I said. I must have heard him wrong.

“You won, Sam!” Romeo cheered. “You won!” He threw his arms around me and hugged me vigorously.

Justin, Keith, Micah, and Alyssa all clapped, big smiles on their faces.

“Congratulations, Sam!” Alyssa beamed.

“Potty for President” Micah said, pumping his fist.

“Now I just have to figure out where Potty buys his cheeba,” Keith grinned. “That blunt of his is humungous.”

Micah high fived him and they both snickered like total potheads.

At the end of the table, Tammy Lemons frowned.

“Sorry, Tammy,” Justin said.

I felt bad for Tammy. Sort of. But I didn’t want to shove it in her face. I’d won! Lightning had struck twice today!

Whoopee!

A smile spread across my face.

I glanced at Justin, expecting to see his twinkling smile.

But his eyes were all over Romeo.

What the what?

How had I not noticed before?

* * *

Romeo walked me to my car in the North Parking lot after The Wombat staff meeting. The sun floated high over the horizon, drenching the sky in warm yellows and oranges. It already felt like summer weather in San Diego even though it was still spring.

“Romeo, I think Justin likes you,” I said.

“Yeah, and he likes you too,” Romeo said. “So?”

“No, I mean, like likes.”

Romeo scoffed and shook his head, “No way, Justin isn’t gay. I would’ve noticed.”

“That’s what I thought. But, I don’t know, maybe it’s because we were both nervous getting to know everyone at the staff meetings. And you were always focused on trying to come up with funny ideas to impress everyone. I know how you are. You totally get carried away when you’re on a roll.”

Romeo nodded thoughtfully. “Well, don’t you think you would’ve noticed he was gay by now?”

“Maybe. But, Romeo, you exude so much gayness at all times that it scrambles everyone’s gaydar.”

Romeo raised an eyebrow, “You have a point there.”

“So maybe you should ask him out?”

Romeo chuckled, “Why would I do that?”

“Because, for all your enthusiasm for the male of the species, I’ve never seen you on a date with man nor beast.”

“I’ve been on some pretty hairy dates with some men who may have been beasts. Rawr!” Romeo quipped.

I stopped walking and narrowed my eyes at him. “When?”

“Whenever,” he dismissed and kept walking toward the parking lot. “When am I not out on a date?”

I jogged to catch up to him. “Slow down! I’m in heels!”

He slowed until I caught up.

“Come on, Romeo. Don’t you think you would’ve introduced me to one of your dates by now? I’ve known you for nine months!”

“I like to keep my personal life personal,” he said while walking. “Besides, I never date anyone for very long.”

I got the sense Romeo was trying to escape. I grabbed his arm and stopped him again. “How long?” I asked.

“What?”

“How long do you date them for?” I demanded.

Romeo rolled his eyes desperately and gave me a pleading look. I’d never seen him look so genuinely nervous before.

I leveled a gaze at him, but he was avoiding my eyes.

“You need to ask Justin out,” I said.

He suddenly goggled at me like I was insane. “I can’t ask Justin out!”

“Fine. I’ll ask him out for you.”

“This isn’t high school, Sam,” he said like he was parenting me. “I can ask him out myself. If I wanted to.”

“So, why don’t you? He’s totally cute. And he couldn’t stop staring at you during the staff meeting just now. And he loves your sense of humor. Seems like a good match to me.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “So what? You know I’m totally gayballs for Christos. I’m saving myself for him.” His usual sarcasm was back.

“Romeo, you were also gayballs for Hunter Blakeley. And how did that turn out?”

“Perfectly! Christos saved me from him! I practically swooned on the spot when he tripped Hunter that day after sculpting class!”

I wasn’t buying it. It was all the exclamation points Romeo was using. I knew a thing or two about them myself.

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’re scared, Romeo. Justin is obviously into you. Unlike Hunter, who is straight. After today’s meeting, and that weird moment when he tried to look into your ear in front of the Main Library, he’s obviously gay.”

Romeo flinched when I mentioned the library moment.

“And,” I continued, “I get the sense Justin is available. I think it scares you.”

Romeo cringed.

“Romeo, are you consciously trying to avoid dating a nice guy like Justin? Or is it out of habit?”

Romeo smiled and shrugged his shoulders squeamishly.

I nodded and folded my arms across my chest, “That’s what I thought. You’re all gay talk without the rainbow walk.”

Romeo glanced around, making sure no one was listening to what he was about to say. A few random students walked here and there, but no one was closer than fifty feet away.

In a low, embarrassed voice, Romeo mumbled, “I may talk like I’m 50 Shades of Cray when it comes to living gay, Samantha, but it doesn’t mean I have any practical experience when it comes to the ways of love.”

I shook my head, “Wait, what? What are you talking about, Romeo? I thought you went to Hillcrest all the time to cruise for guys.”

Romeo waved his hand dismissively, “I was just going down to the Old Globe.”

“What’s the Old Globe? A gay bar?”

“No,” he smiled, “it’s the classic Shakespearean theater in Balboa Park. Theater in the round, outside under the stars. You should totally go some time if you want to see how Shakespeare was performed back in his day. Anyway, I help with the costumes and work as an usher when they have shows.”

“So you don’t go down to the Brass Rail to meet guys for vomit sex?”

He shook his head. “You have to be twenty-one to get into the Rail. It’s a regular bar that serves alcohol.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “And you’re not hooking up with a new gay guy every weekend, or whatever?”

He shook his head again, “I haven’t even been out on a date before. Well, I took Kamiko to our Senior prom, but that wasn’t really a date.”

“You took Kamiko to prom?” I gasped.

“Yeah, we had a blast. But it was all for fun. We went as friends. No boning after,” he grinned.

“So you’ve never been on a real date?”

“Nope.”

“With neither man nor beast?”

“Not even yaks. I swear. I’ve never been on a date with anyone.”

His mention of yaks brought a smile to my face. Yak sodomites…that had been last year when he’d said it to bring me out of my emotional distress over Christos. Wow, my life had been as exciting as that amusement park inside Romeo’s head ever since I’d started at SDU.

“Wow, Romeo,” I sighed. “I’m totally surprised.”

“Me too. It’s pathetic actually. Don’t tell anyone. Even Kamiko doesn’t know. I tell her all those stories about cruising for men in Hillcrest so she won’t bug me about meeting someone.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Point taken,” I said. “I’ll stop bugging you about Justin.”

“Thank you. When I’m ready to date, I will. For now, I think I just like hanging out with you and the gang.” He wrapped one arm around my neck and tried to give me a noogie on top of my head.

“Stop, Romeo!” I cackled, pulling away. “You’re going to mess up my hair!”

He was laughing, but he let go and smiled at me. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get you to your car. I think you have some good news to share with Christos, right?”

I smiled at him. “Totally.”

“And don’t tell anyone about my dirty little secret.”

I crossed my heart. “I won’t. To me, you’ll always be the gayest gay on the planet.”

“And you’ll be the faggiest hag of all time,” he grinned.

We laughed together as we walked to my VW.