Текст книги "Kiss Me"
Автор книги: Jillian Dodd
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Wednesday, September 14th
A fiercer hell.
8pm
I’m sitting in the library studying and waiting for Dawson to meet me. I get a wonderful email from my interior designer with drawings, photos, and floor plans for the new loft. I excitedly comment and approve all of it. Then I think about my old closet. I email Kym and ask if she has a photo of it. She quickly emails it back to me. I forward the closet photo to the designer and tell him I’d like my new closet to look as close to that as possible.
There isn’t really anything going on tonight. Which is good, because I have a long list of homework and projects on my to do list.
Dawson shows up and starts to work on his homework, but he gets bored and starts messing around with me. He keeps poking my sides randomly, trying to make me scream and get in trouble. Then he grabs my long to do list and writes his name at the top.
“Very cute,” I say to him.
My phone buzzes on the table in front of us. There is a text from Brooklyn, who I haven’t heard a peep from in exactly eleven days. Not that I’m counting, I just expected him to try to apologize sooner.
B<3: I’m sorry, okay? I miss you. I miss our talks. I was stupid. Got caught up in everything. I’m sorry. Really. I love you.
Dawson sits and stares at my phone, like it’s a snake coiled up, getting ready to bite him. “How come his name still has a heart by it?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since Labor day weekend, or looked at his name. I forgot it was like that. Here, I’ll change it.”
“So what are you going to say to that?”
“I’m not even going to reply.”
“I think you should reply.”
“Why? I don’t have anything to say to him.”
“Tell him you have a boyfriend and to leave you the hell alone.”
“Is that what you would do if Whitney texted you and told you she was sorry?”
“Is that why you wouldn’t take the necklace? Are you still hung up on him?”
“No. I’m not hung up on him at all. I hate him.”
“Then why?”
“The necklace has nothing to do with him and everything to do with us. I’m not ready to have someone’s heart yet. Especially the heart of someone who isn’t ready to give it. I like you. I don’t want to rush it.”
He touches my hair. Looks into my eyes and says, “Keatie, I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”
I get little tears in my eyes, cuz he is seriously so sweet.
He takes the phone out of my hand. “I’ve got this.”
Me: This is Keatyn’s boyfriend. Leave her the hell alone.
“Dawson. You’re not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I know, but eventually I will be. We’re good together.”
B: Tell her to take her phone back and tell me herself.
Me: Hey, it’s me. What you did hurt. I always thought no matter what we would be friends, but I’m pretty sure you ruined that too with your lack of respect. Hope she was worth it.
B: “There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.” Keats for my Keats. I’m sorry. Really sorry.
“I’m not replying to that.”
Dawson says, “What does that even mean?”
“It means he’s living in hell because he failed me. Or so he’s saying.” I sigh big, run my hand through my hair. “Shit.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I miss our friendship. He was one of my best friends for two years. What he did was more than just a slam to our relationship, it was a slam to our friendship, too. I hope that even if you and I don’t work out as a couple that we stay friends.”
“We’re definitely staying friends,” he says. Then he gives me a sweet kiss.
Thursday, September 15th
A sick hazing ritual.
6:45am
This morning, I get up with the chickens and do my hair up. I did it big. Lots of big spiral curls, lots of hairspray and fullness. I do my makeup just a bit bolder, still soft and natural, but I add some highlighter to my cheekbones and nose, a little deeper blush at the hollow of my cheeks to add more definition. I add a rich dark purple eye shadow that brings out the purple in my eyes and a simple black swoop of eyeliner.
My look for today is a red tank top under a white blouse with red western detailing—little embroidery across the cuffs, which stick out just under my navy blazer—the plaid pleated skort, the cowboy boots, handmade silver earrings and necklace, and silver bangles. Now I feel ready to give my speech.
But, first things first. Gotta call Grandpa.
I thank him. Tell him about my speech today. He wishes me luck and fills me in on what’s been going on at the ranch. About the horses, the ranch hand’s love life, Grandma’s new apple pie recipe, and his new lemonade drink using pink lemonade rather than the normal yellow kind. I hang up feeling happy and confident.
I even have time to sit down and eat breakfast.
Dawson kisses me. “You got my vote, Keatie. Just look at you.”
And although this is nice, and I want to look nice, cute, and likable, I also kind of decided this morning after talking to Grandpa that I don’t want to win because of how I look. I want to win because of what I say in my speech. I do want to try and make a difference. I don’t want to just look pretty.
So I completely redid my speech. And have my new lines all memorized.
Now, I’m at the all-school convocation. We have to give our speech in front of the entire student body. I’m pretty sure this is some sick hazing ritual. If you manage to give the speech without throwing up then you’re in.
I’m standing in the hallway with the other candidates, who are nervously pacing and rereading their note cards. I’m really not that nervous. I never been one to get stage fright, but usually when I’ve performed in the past it has been at soccer games and dance recitals. I’ve never spoken to a large group before.
Aiden walks toward me and does a little motion. He has something in his hand that he wants to sneakily put into mine.
How I know what his little glances and gestures mean is a bit astonishing to me but, then, I’m pretty certain some sort of mind control is part of his god power package.
I move closer to him and he slides something small into my hand. Then he puts a finger up to the side of his mouth, making the universal sign for shhh.
I don’t open my hand.
I’m afraid to.
Plus, I want to savor it.
I hear my name being called. It’s my turn to go up.
I get up to the podium, lay down my note cards, turn my hand over, and open my fist. There nestled in my palm is a green glass four-leaf clover. And I feel . . . I don’t even know.
Lucky.
I feel like Harry Potter just put liquid luck in my butterbeer before Quidditch practice.
I feel unstoppable.
I speak eloquently and from the heart. I talk about what Student Council is, what it should be able to do, how it should not just be about social agendas or a popularity contest. That it should focus on the students and their rights. Their right to change the dress code. Their right not to get their phones put into jail. Their right to be served something besides empty calories and fried foods at lunch. Their right to stay out later. To have more all-school activities. And I end it with a loud, cheerleader-style, Vote for Keatyn Mon-ROARRRRRR, and, luckily, lots of people roar with me.
I don’t know if I will win or not. But I did good, and I’m proud of myself. And I think my lucky charm will be proud of me too.
Did you see those boots of hers?
French
Somehow, Aiden ends up walking me from lunch to French class.
“Your speech was really great,” he says.
“I didn’t look at what was in my hand until I got up there and was ready to start speaking.”
“You like it?”
“I did. It gave me an extra boost of confidence. I felt lucky. But why did you?”
“Well, I might have a little crush on my tutor, but don’t tell her. It will go to her head. And she already thinks she’s the shit. Did you see those boots of hers?”
I laugh. “Very funny. Do you like my boots?”
He looks at me with his dreamy eyes. “I love your boots. You in boots is my favorite. Reminds me of the first day we met.”
“My grandpa had them made for me to match my uniform. Told me they are to remind me to raise some hell and kick some ass.” I laugh at that.
“I’d like to meet him someday. He sounds like a good man,” Aiden says very sincerely.
As I sit down in class, I’m thinking that Grandpa would probably think Aiden is a good man too.
We take a break at the end of class to talk in French. Annie isn’t speaking French, but is excitedly talking about the speeches: who she thinks did well, how I rocked, and “Where did you ever find those boots?”
Aiden answers her. “Her grandpa had them made for her.”
And Annie gives me a look. A look that says, Uh, what’s going on here? Why is he answering for you and, more importantly, why does he know this and I, your best friend, do not?
A bunch of us girls are in Katie’s and my room getting ready to go to the JV game. We’re all giggling and laughing.
I’m all ready. I left my boots, tank, and shirt on, but changed into little jean shorts. And, I will admit, I’m sorta sitting here thinking about Aiden. Tutoring him has been good for me. I’m getting to know him and he’s been nicer recently. Not behaving like the smooth player that he was always trying to be. We haven’t had a fight in almost a week.
He mentioned in class that the team they’re playing tonight is the best in our conference, and that he hopes he and the team play really well.
I get an idea, so I dig down to the bottom of my desk drawer. Mom forced me to bring high quality writing paper, so I could write a decent thank you if needed.
I grab a piece of the thick creamy paper and a green marker. I fold the paper in half and then write inside.
And then I draw a big, green four-leaf clover on the front and outline it with black marker.
I tell the girls, “Hey, I gotta run to the dance room and grab my, uh, socks. I’ll be right back.”
Then I run out the door and text Aiden.
Me: Where are you?
Hottie God: Locker room. Where do you want me to be?
Me: Somewhere where I can give you something.
Hottie God: Walking out of the field house now. Meet me.
Me: Okay :)
I sprint—well, jog—as fast as I can in my boots and see him standing outside the field house. He’s got on his football pads and jersey, but is still wearing his athletic shorts.
God, he is just beautiful.
Scratch what I said before about him being a normal boy. He is so not.
“Boots are pretty cute with shorts too,” he grins, looking at my shorts.
“Thanks. Uh, well, I know you seemed a little nervous about the game tonight and um, I just . . .”
When the hell did I get so tongue-tied?
“Just what?”
“Well, here.” I hold the little note out in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“I don’t know. It’s a note. Some luck maybe. Just look at it, I don’t know, sometime before the game, maybe.”
“Not now?”
“Um, up you.”
“You know, Boots, you’re acting very weird.”
“I am very weird.”
He laughs. “True. Okay, so I have to get back in there.” He holds up the note. “Thanks, I think.”
I walk back to my dorm, wondering what the hell I just did.
Then I tell myself that I don’t really want to dance with him again or anything.
I’m a dancer.
I’m one of the people chosen to help spread school spirit and support our athletes.
I was just wishing him luck, motivating him, so that our team could win and we could be proud.
Rah, rah, sis, boom, bah, and all that.
That’s just the kind of selfless girl I am.
What the heck is on the football?
7:18pm
I’m sitting in the stands with a big group of people. My glass four-leaf clover is tucked into the pocket of my shorts.
Dawson is being his sweet, snuggly self and teasing me about my boots in front of everyone, but then he starts whispering in my ear about how he would like to see me in just my boots later on tonight.
I’m not sure if I could do that.
Two reasons why I could not float through my head simultaneously.
One is that Grandpa would roll over in his grave, if he were dead, if he saw me doing those things in the boots he had made for me.
The second reason is that boots are kinda Aiden’s and my thing. Like, not that we have a thing at all. But the way he calls me Boots and said he wanted to meet my grandpa . . . I just don’t think I could allow my boots to be a part of what Dawson has in mind.
I may have to put a blindfold on them or put them in the corner or something.
Jake and Whitney are sitting a couple rows below us, and I notice Dawson doesn’t seem to be affected by this at all. Which makes me very thankful. Bryce says Hey to them, then walks up and sits down behind me and Dawson.
“So, did you take any of our advice?” he asks me.
“About my speech?”
“Uh, no, about making Dawson worship you.”
This gets Dawson’s attention.
He says teasingly, “What have you two been up to in ceramics?”
Bryce laughs. “Well, so far I’ve made a lopsided cup and an animal that resembles a pig but was supposed to be a pony.”
“They may have suggested the library,” I tell Dawson.
His eyes get big and he gets a big old grin on his face. He turns to Bryce and puts his fist in front of him. They do a fist bump and he says, “You can make suggestions like that any time, man. Any time.”
Now Bryce’s eyes get big. “You mean you took our advice! Like, the library idea?”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe.”
“Can I get a clone of you? Seriously?”
I start to say something, but Bryce interrupts me. “What the heck is on the football?”
In front of him, Annie says, “Looks like a four-leaf clover to me.”
Dawson says, “That’s for Notre Dame, like the fighting Irish, right? Why would they put that on our footballs? Shouldn’t it be a cougar paw?”
I look out and see that Riley is getting ready to toss a pass to Aiden. And on the football is a marker-drawn, green four-leaf clover outlined in black.
And I think I just passed out.
Toying with my force field.
9:45pm
Dawson has a paper due, so I’m getting ready to leave after giving him just a few kisses. Well, okay, we were making out a bit, and his hands were everywhere under my shirt. But I drew the line when he was trying to undo my shorts.
“We both have homework. You told me to promise to make you do it.”
“Oh, I wanna do it, alright.”
“Dawson! Behave!”
“Sorry, okay. I’ll text you before I go to sleep.”
“K, bye.”
As I round the corner to go down the hall, I almost run into Aiden.
Who is looking more god-like than ever in a plain white T-shirt that clings to his perfectly formed chest.
He grabs my hand and nods his head toward the stairs.
I follow him up to his room.
He shuts his door, locks it, and dazzles me with a smile. “So, only had twelve tonight. But we won!”
“Yeah, you all played great. Riley’s really stepping up.”
“That and we had a secret weapon.”
“What’s that?”
“Motivation.”
“I saw the clovers on the footballs. That your doing?”
“Yeah. This girl wished me luck and offered me dances. So I gave a little motivational speech before the game. Showed everyone that I drew them on the game balls, prayed Coach wouldn’t kill me, and it was a big hit. We went out there pretty pumped up.”
“It was awesome, really.”
“I didn’t have a chance to pick twelve new songs. Okay if we do some of the old ones?”
“Are we dancing tonight?”
“Heck yeah.”
He hits play on his iPod and pulls me in close. We sway to the music and he gets so close to me. Like before. It’s like our faces have a force field around only them.
And he is toying with my force field.
Like, he’s firing shots, trying to find its weakness.
And what’s up with that?
Because I clearly told Kirk, or Scotty, or whoever is in charge of that stuff on the starship, Shields down!
But he will not kiss me. He is totally teasing me, totally playing with me, and it pisses me off, and makes me weak at the knees at the same time.
Remember how I said it feels like time stands still when I kiss him? It feels that way when I dance with him too. Like we are the only two people on this green earth, and we’re okay with that. And, before I realize it, we’ve gone through not just twelve songs, but all twenty-nine on his original playlist. Rap music blares on, and I look at the clock.
Holy shit!
Shit!
“Aiden! I’m thirty-six minutes late!”
I go tearing out of his room, down the stairs, and sprint to my dorm.
I check in and receive a very stern warning and over one hundred minutes of detention.
Worth. Every. Second.
I mean, our team won, right?
I’m still downstairs, dealing with being late. There’s paperwork that has to be filled out for my detention. Now that she’s done chewing me out and focusing on that, I check my phone.
I have texts. Lots of texts.
Dawson: Almost done with my paper. Night, Keatie <3
Katie: You are 12 minutes late for curfew. Where are you?
Katie: Texted Dawson, to tell you you were late. You are not with him???? Where are you??? And now you are 15 minutes late!
Dawson: Where are you? I thought you were going back to your dorm?
Katie: I’m freaking out. 18 minutes late.
Katie: Text me for god’s sake.
Maggie: Katie is trying to find you. Where are you?
Annie: Why aren’t you in your dorm? Why aren’t you answering? Katie says Dawson doesn’t know where you are.
Dawson: Text me when you get in. Katie’s freaking out.
Katie: You ARE 27 MINUTES LATE!!!!
Dallas: Heard you are MIA, have a sneaking suspicion you are tutoring. If so, use Dallas as your excuse. I will always have your back. But you better text me back and tell me what the deal is.
Katie: 32 MINUTES!!
Me to Katie: I’m in the dorm. Will be up in a few. Getting my ass chewed first. Tell everyone you were texting I’m fine.
Katie: THANK GOD!
Me to Dallas: I love you, seriously. And you are correct. I told you he is a powerful one. I got lost in his eyes and lost all track of time.
Dallas: Why do I have a feeling you have something to do with the four-leaf clover on the footballs tonight. He gave you one before dance tryouts, right?
Me: Right. And again before my speech. I just decided to like pay it forward. He wished me luck. I knew it was a rough game. I have school spirit, wanted the team to win, offered up some more dances. That’s where I was.
Dallas: Was it just dancing?
Me: Yes.
Dallas: If I were Dawson, I wouldn’t want you dancing with Aiden. I wouldn’t give a shit about school spirit.
Me: I’m on the dance team. I’m into school spirit. It’s like my job. So what were we doing? Why was I late? My brain is mush!
Dallas: You were helping me study for our English test tomorrow and we were both so tired, we fell asleep.
Me: We have a English test tomorrow??!! And Riley is your roommate. He will know.
Dallas: Yes...go study. And Riley fell asleep early. You seriously need to talk me up to Katie, she’s cute. I deserve it.
Me: Done :)
I really don’t want to lie to Dawson.
Me to Dawson: Hey, sorry. I’m fine.
Dawson: It’s okay. I figured Katie was freaking out over nothing.
I walk in my room, and if I didn’t get my ass chewed enough, Katie starts in on me. And really, I’m not in the mood. I tell her about Dallas, tell her I’m tired, and tell her goodnight.
How many lies?
1am
I lie still in my bed and daydream about Greek gods in white T-shirts. Then, when I can tell she’s asleep, I get back up and study for the stupid test.
While I’m studying, I get a text from Garrett asking if I’m still up.
Me: Yeah.
Garrett: I need to talk to you. Can you grab your iPad and go somewhere private?
Me: Sure.
I walk quietly out into the hall and then into the concrete stairwell.
“What’s wrong?” I say when I answer Garrett’s call.
“Some things have been going on that I need to update you on. On your Facebook wall, people have been speculating about where you are.”
“You should just delete my profile.”
“We’re monitoring it. And some interesting things have come up. Specifically, there has been a lot of talk about rehab facilities. A little over two weeks ago, one was mentioned by name. A famous one in Malibu.”
“Okay?”
“A day later, their office was broke into. Files were searched.”
“I’ve heard that’s not uncommon. Paparazzi trying to get a story.”
“I agree. But then, nine days ago, another one was named. The one we sent the plane to in Utah.”
“Did it get broken into too?”
“Yes. And, a few days ago, another one in Arizona.”
“Have you been following him?”
“Yes, but he hasn’t left. He probably hired someone to do it.”
“Okay, so he’s still looking for me. Got it. I won’t do anything stupid.”
“There’s something else.”
I instantly panic. “Mom? The girls?”
“No. They’re all fine. It’s your friend, Cush.”
“What about him?”
“He, well, he left. He’s not at your school anymore.”
“Where is he?”
“There’s a message from him on your Facebook. On your iPad is a special icon that looks like the one on your phone only it’s orange. Hit that. Then log into Facebook. It’s a program that doesn’t allow your IP address to be tracked. Read the message. I’ll wait.”
I log on and take a deep breath. I have numerous messages and notifications, but I look for the one from Cush.
And open it.
Keatyn,
I came to your party because I had to apologize to you. Tell you I was sorry about what I said after the whole Mandy thing. That it wasn’t your fault.
I had something else to tell you too. It’s the real reason I came back. After all the plans we’d made, I felt like I owed it to you to tell you in person.
Here’s what I was supposed to tell you:
I decided to live with my dad and go to school in Oregon. I thought it would suck here, but it really doesn’t. I like coming home and having people in the house. Everyone here is really nice and I kinda met this girl. She’s sweet. You’d like her. She doesn’t care about being popular. It’s not that big of a deal here.
But here’s what happened:
I gave you the boots.
You loved them.
I wasn’t lying when I said they look like you, but I was lying when I said I bought them. I’m sorry, but my mom picked them out. She said they were a good brand and you would love them.
Then you kissed me, and I wanted to forget about Oregon.
I wanted to come back and pretend there was no one else.
I loved dancing with you again.
And then you dragged me off the dance floor and really kissed me. Told me you broke up with the surfer and that you loved me. I swear, Keatyn, you can wrap me around your finger like no one else can. I started making plans with you that I knew I couldn’t keep. I told you about prom because I wished it could be true.
But then I started feeling guilty.
Because I knew I was lying.
I told myself I would tell you the truth at your after-party.
But then you cancelled the party and left.
I tried to call you. I tried to go to your house. I felt like I owed it to you to tell you in person, but I had to go.
I hope I can see you again someday.
And that you’re okay. You were the first girl I ever really cared about.
I just had to do what’s best for me. Go where it’s good for me.
I hope you’re somewhere good for you too.
Cush
Tears stream down my face, but I laugh at myself through them. At my own stupidity. I told a guy I loved him over a pair of boots. A pair of boots that I was convinced symbolized everything we could be. I’m such an idiot.
“I read it,” I tell Garrett. Trying not to sound like I’ve been crying.
“Are you okay? I remember you told me about how he loved all of you because of the boots.”
“Yeah, the boots his mommy bought. I feel so stupid, Garrett.”
“Don’t. When the right guy comes along, you’ll know it.”
An instant message pops up. It’s Cush.
Cush: Keatyn?
“Garrett? Are you on with me? Did you see Cush just messaged me. Can I talk to him?”
“Yes, I’m on with you. Be careful what you say.”
Me: Cush, yes. It’s me. I was just sitting here reading your message. And crying.
Cush: I’m sorry.
Me: I know. I’m glad you’re happy at your dad’s.
Up pops another instant message.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
“Garrett! Did you see that? Is that him? Is it Vincent?”
“I’ll try and track it.”
Cush: Where are you?
Me: I’m not supposed to tell.
Cush: Rehab?
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Me: I can’t tell . . . fuck it. You know how I told you there was family drama?
Cush: Yeah . . .
Me: You have to swear to me. Swear to me that you won’t tell a soul this. If anyone asks, you haven’t talked to me. Okay? You have to swear.
Cush: I pinky swear, Keatyn.
Garrett yells in my ear. “Keatyn, do not tell him! There’s more I need to tell you. It’s why I let you read his message. When Cush moved to Oregon, Vincent took a trip up there too. He visited Cush’s school. Told the faculty that he was moving there with his daughter. Asked if they had any other new female students. He even went to Cush’s house and knocked on his door. He looked liked he was asking for directions or pretending he had the wrong house or something. They spoke. Vincent went to one of his soccer games. Then he came back home. Cush is safe and he’s moved on, Keatyn. Let him stay that way.”
Cush: You still there?
Me: Yeah.
Tears continue to stream down my face and start dripping all over my iPad. How many lies am I going to have to tell? How could I have ever dreamed of going somewhere where no one knew me? I thought it would be so cool. A false name. A secret identity. So cool and mysterious.
I was so wrong.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Cush: So what happened?
Me: You know how your parents freaked about Mandy drugging you?
Cush: Yeah. They kinda blame you.
Me: They weren’t going to let you come back, were they? Even if you would’ve wanted to.
Cush: No. They weren’t.
Me: I’m in a kind of similar situation. I’m somewhere that’s supposed to be good for me too.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Cush: Are you happy?
Me: I’m trying to be. It’s hard. So the girl you met there this summer. Are you with her?
Cush: Yeah. We’ve been going out since I came back. I’m sorry.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Conman1: Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Me: I have to go.
Cush: I’m glad I got to talk to you. I’m sorry.
Me: I know. Bye, Cush.
Conman1: It was all just a misunderstanding. I really was trying to help. And even after everything, I still want to make a movie with you. Come home.
I’m trying hard to ignore the messages. I know that Garrett is watching what I say. But I can’t take it anymore. He ruined my life.
Me: So I’m curious. You were taking me to a van, going to drug me, kidnap me, then what?
Conman1: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought you were in danger. Was just trying to help out a friend.
Me: Heard you’ve been checking out rehabs. You should seriously check yourself in. Get some help. You’ll only find me if I want to be found. Oh, and I’ve been fucking my way across Europe. Maybe you should come and get me.
I log off then throw my iPad across the stairwell and cry some more.
I cry and cry until I have no more tears.
I finally pull myself together and reach down to pick up my iPad. The front of it is shattered to pieces.
Kind of like my life.
My phone is still in my hand and I realize Garrett not only knows what I typed to Vincent, he also heard my meltdown.
“Are you still there?” I whisper into my phone.
“I am. I’ll send you a new iPad.”
“Thanks. Garrett?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to know anymore. Unless it has to do with my family. I don’t want to know. You were right, weren’t you? I’m never going to be able to go back home.”
“I’ve studied a lot of stalking cases, Keatyn. They don’t usually end well for the person being stalked. It doesn’t help that stalking is extremely hard to prove. Until they commit an actual crime, there is usually nothing that can be done. It’s even hard to get a restraining order, as you well know. It was really brilliant of Vincent to become friends with you. It makes all his stories for why he was around you seem plausible. You invited him to your party. He was trying to help you in the scuffle. You’d been drinking. You misunderstood what he said.”
“It was embarrassing when the police breathalyzed me. When they took my statement, I was hysterical. And I threw up twice.”
“I know. It also didn’t help that you were well over the legal limit and he was stone-cold sober. Even though James was on your side, he didn’t know you invited him to the party. But I did. My people were in charge of the guest list. That’s why I didn’t push too hard. I figured they would let him go, but I was quite shocked to hear the extent of your relationship.”
“I thought I had the world all figured out. I was going to become an actress and make a movie with Vincent. I was going to love Cush. How could I have been so wrong? I always thought I was good at reading people. Now I’m almost afraid to be friends with anyone.”
“Have you made friends there?”
“I think so, but I don’t really trust my judgment anymore. And, right now, I just feel very alone.”
“Let’s talk about something positive then.”
“Is there anything positive?”
“Yes. I finished the security on your loft. And I have to say, good job. It’s an amazing place. It’s warm and comfortable, yet gracious and grand. It’s just like you. I know you told me you were having a hard time figuring out who you are, but you need to stop thinking you have to be one way or another. You can be all of the things you are at the same time. Picture yourself as a gemstone. You have lots of facets. Someday, you’ll find a man who loves every one of those facets and, by then, some boy named Cush will only be a fond memory.”
“Thanks, Garrett. And I changed my mind. I do want to know. I need to know. Even if it sucks. So, those messages he was sending me. Were you able to track them?”
“No. He’s got something like we do that makes it difficult to trace. If we’d had more time, maybe, but I looked over what he said. There was nothing incriminating. He didn’t bite when you brought up the van.”
“Do you think I really pissed him of with what I said at the end?”
“I sure hope not.”
