I only wished I knew what it was.
yx
The next morning the ringing of my cell phone awakened me. “’Lo,” I rasped, pressing it to my ear, and slowly licking dry lips. “I mean, hello.”
“Hey, Belinda, the surf is cookin’! Get your butt down here!”
“Russ?” I scrubbed my face and heard Keilana let out few choice words over being awoken at just past dawn. “Why the hell are you calling me so early?”
“Huh?”
Oh, right. We always called each other when it looked like the waves were going to be excellent. I thought of the hot sun drenching my skin and the cool water lashing against me, and suddenly longed for the rightness and solitude of a perfect wave. I can’t explain to a hodad the nearly religious experience of flying on water. You’ll just have to take my word for the fact that there are few things better in life.
“Belinda?”
Drats. I promised myself I would be quick about this case and not drag out my duplicity. I couldn’t go play. I needed to stay and work. “I can’t, Russ.”
“Why not?”
“Russ,” I warned, my gaze slipping sideways. Keilana had put her pillow over her head to block out our conversation.
“Oh, shit,” he said, whispering as though Keilana could somehow hear his voice. “Are you working?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Right now?”
“Hopefully.”
“But it’s Sunday,” he complained. “The Poppenhouses don’t expect you to break this case in two days, Belinda. Jesus! With what you’re being paid, you’d think you’d slow down and take your time.”
A little insulted, I said, “You know I’m not like that.” I never cheated my clients. Never.
He groaned and I just knew he was rolling his eyes at me. “I wasn’t suggesting that you pad your billing. Just take the time you need to do this right. You won’t learn everything you need to know about Keilana in a weekend. Besides, school doesn’t even start until tomorrow. C’mon,” he coaxed, knowing I was a wave-slut. “You know you want to.”
I laughed softly. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I learned it from you.” There was a long pause. “Hey, Belinda, I know you’re feeling guilty about this job. And when you’re feeling guilty about something you tend to push things. Go easy, all right?”
I blew out a long breath.
“You know I’m right,” he persisted.
He was right. I hated it when that happened. “Go away, Russ.”
He chuckled. “Smelly and I are going away. Away to the beach, as a matter of fact. I’ll call you later in the week and check on you. See if you need anything, that sort of thing, okay? We can meet someplace off campus and I’ll bring your runt dog for a visit.”
Russ, I acknowledged not for the first time, despite our checkered past, had turned into a friend that I could count on. I lowered my voice, “I loooooooove you, Russ.”
Silence.
I had to work hard not to spoil the effect and burst out laughing.
“God, you’re evil,” he finally spluttered.
I smiled broadly. “I learned it from you. Give Smelly a hug for me, okay?”
“Will do.” Then he cleared his throat ominously. “Belinda? There’s something important I have to tell you.”
Oh, God, he wasn’t going to get all sensitive on me, was he? “Yeah?” I croaked, horrified at what my own demonic streak might have started.
“Don’t get caught staring at a bunch of eighteen-year-old girls’ asses. You’ll get a reputation and then nobody will want to take you to the homecoming dance.” He started laughing hysterically at his own joke and with a vicious finger, I shut off my phone without saying goodbye. I thought of how I’d stared at Keilana’s half-naked body the night before and a wave of guilt crashed over me. She wasn’t eighteen years old, but twenty-one wasn’t a helluva lot better.
“Jerk,” I mumbled, and tossed the phone to the foot of my bed.
Keilana tugged the pillow off her face and gave me a concerned look that fully captured my attention. “Boyfriend troubles?”
She had a serious case of bed-head and her face was creased with a crisscross pattern from her bedspread. I bit back a grin. It is my not-so-humble opinion that good-looking women are at their most appealing first thing in the morning when they’re adorably mussed and truly natural. Seeing Keilana painted in early morning sunshine did nothing to dissuade me of that notion.
“Cadie, if you’re in any trouble or if ... well, if you need help or something.” Shyly, she tried to express herself, charming me in the process. “I can ... I can help.”
I was relieved that for the first time since we’d met, I’d be able to tell her the truth. “He’s a former boyfriend, but there’s no trouble. Honest.” Then I had an idea. What would work better than to get to know my subject on my home turf? We couldn’t go to my favorite beach, but we could pick up Russ and go someplace else. “He wants me to come to the beach today. Wanna come?” Of course, I’d have to call Russ and have him shave his head so there’d be no chance of Keilana recognizing him. But that was a small price to pay for surfing!
I could tell she was surprised that I had asked. Her eyes narrowed just a little as she tried to gauge my sincerity. Lord, Keilana is even more suspicious than I am. My general mistrust of people was a by-product of my work. There are only so many cheating husbands and wives you can tail before you become jaded. I wondered briefly what had caused her skepticism.
She sat up and cocked her head to the side, her hair falling down around her shoulders. “With you and your ex?” She made a face. “No way.” Suddenly, she seemed to realize she was being a little rude. “But ... umm ... thanks for asking.”
“Come on,” I coaxed, flipping over onto my belly, crawling to the foot of my bed, and propping my head on my fists. Our beds were only about six feet apart and this put me a little closer to her. “It’s going to be a beautiful day and Russ really is an okay guy.”
She grimaced again. “No ... I don’t ...” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I don’t like the beach.”
“But your family is Hawaiian!” Everyone knew the Poppenhouses were Hawaiian. Poppenhouse pineapple and coconut cookies were one of the most popular cookies in the country and the back of the package featured a map of the islands. “How can someone from Hawaii not like the beach? That’s impossible!”
Her gaze cooled instantly and I realized my error. Mentioning her family was obviously a no-no.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said briskly.
“Okay.” I held up my hands, privately bemoaning the wariness that had rushed back into her voice. “You’re right. I don’t know you.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t.
“But I’d like to know you. And what better place for that to happen than the beach.” I gave her my most innocent smile.
She snorted gently, torn somewhere between amusement and annoyance at my persistence. “I have things to do, Cadie.”
This was going good. We were talking, not arguing, and she was tentatively smiling. I suspected she was tempted to take the day off and play, but I wasn’t sure how far I could push her. I also had to be very careful or I was going to start flirting. And that was more dangerous than I was willing to accept.
“I have to buy my books,” she went on, snuggling back into her pillow and looking like she wanted to do anything but that. She groaned a little. “And get ready for classes. Just, I dunno, stuff ...”
“Of course you do,” I said reasonably. “And so do I. But we can do those things and still go to the beach.” C’mon, Keilana, make my life easier. “We can’t get to know each other if we don’t spend any time together, right? If we’re going to be roommates we might as well hang out a little. I want to be your friend.”
And in that split second, our conversation came to a screeching halt. Every bit of progress I’d just made vanished like smoke in the wind. Her body stiffe
ned and I knew I’d crossed some imaginary line in the sand.
“What makes you think I want to be yours?”
It was like being slapped in the face.
All of a sudden, I felt stupid for worrying about her the night before. This girl had claws just waiting to come out and play. “Jesus, I wasn’t asking you to sleep with me, just go the Goddamned beach!” I sat up and scooted up the bed, putting a little more distance between us as I crossed my arms over my pajama-clad chest.
She looked away. “You’d have had better luck asking for the sex. That I can handle with no problem.”
One more question answered.
“Is it just that you don’t like me? Or do you have another reason for acting like such an asshole?”
Her eyes snapped up to meet mine and I saw a mosaic of anger, hurt, and resignation swirling there. My own eyes widened a little in response.
“Isn’t that what you expect from me? I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t even know you!” But that was a lie. Knowing who her parents were did make me expect she’d be spoiled rotten. And after talking to Shauna’s little group of she-devils, I expected her to be just as catty as they were. That might not have been fair, but life rarely was. The “asshole” part of the equation, however, Keilana was earning all by her lonesome.
I could see that I’d pushed her too far, but I’m only human and her outright rejection of me stung more than I cared to admit.
She climbed out of bed and with short, jerky movements dug through her dresser for a fresh set of clothes. She might have been pissed, but then so was I. Only I was angrier at myself than at Keilana. Russ had been right. I’d pushed things too far. But it was so hard to be patient. I’d been thinking about her for days, had met her family, had read everything I could find about her. I’d even tracked down some articles she’d written for her high school newspaper. I wish I’d bothered to hunt down a photograph. If I had, then yesterday’s meeting would have been very different. She didn’t feel like a stranger to me, even though she really was.
To Keilana, however, I was nothing more than that, and if she didn’t want to spend the afternoon with me, well, I couldn’t really blame her, could I?
I didn’t try to stop her and make nice when she marched toward the bathroom. We both needed a few minutes to cool off. But something in the wastepaper basket caught her eye and she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes fluttered closed and her face turned red and I remembered what I’d thrown away.
“I smashed my face against the door,” I said by way of an explanation.
She was staring at the bloodied washcloth from the day before. “I’m sorry,” she said in a watery voice.
I thought she might start crying and my heart picked up a little. Please don’t cry!
“I didn’t want ... I mean, I didn’t think—” She ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
So she didn’t want to be my friend? Fine. But at least a part of her did want to know me. I could just tell. I’d seen a glimmer of something in her smile earlier, something I didn’t understand but that was drawing me forward, and making me want to learn all her secrets. And, one by one, I would.
God, I love my job.
Chapter Four
I was five minutes early to my first class, something I’d never managed in my own brief college career. I shuffled into class, feeling the weight of higher learning squarely on my back and thinking I would stick out like a sore thumb. I was wrong. No one looked twice at me except for some preppy kid with a short blond crew cut. He was wearing chinos, a blue blazer, and a white dress shirt with a bow tie. I suppose he thought he was making a statement. Of course, the statement was “I won’t get laid till I turn forty or make my first million, whichever comes first,” but I still managed to smile politely at him when he flopped down into the chair next to mine.
Madonna Del Mar didn’t really have normal classrooms. The room looked more like the den in a rich guy’s house, and was filled with leather love seats, chairs, and a few sofas arranged in a semi-circle. I pulled out a notebook and pen and doodled as the students filed in. Oh, goody, lookie who’s here. Shauna.
She sneered at me, and I blew her a kiss and winked. She audibly gasped and I snickered, gallantly waving my arm, to offer her the empty seat to my right.
She didn’t take it, of course. Instead, she threw her nose in the air and headed for the opposite side of the circle. Adios, bitch.
A few more minutes passed and every seat in the class filled but one. Keilana’s. Exactly at eleven a.m. the instructor hurried into the room and plopped down on the tall stool that sat in the middle of the circle. Even though I had no intention of doing anything more than fill a chair during my time in class, my stomach fluttered nervously at her mere presence.
The instructor, Dr. Edith Gallop, began taking attendance. She was at least a hundred and ten years old, but still had garishly-dyed black hair. I shivered. When she said my name I half raised my hand and did my best to smile. She acknowledged me with a short nod and I shivered again, longing for the back row of a huge lecture bowl classroom.
When Dr. Gallop got to the last name on her list, she glanced around, then sighed. Loudly.
Just then, Keilana burst through the door, a book and a few pieces of paper clutched awkwardly in her hand.
“I see Miss Poppenhouse has decided to grace us with her presence. Too bad it appears that she’s continuing last year’s path to hell in a hand basket,” Dr. Gallop said tartly as she lifted her jaw and gave Keilana a supremely disapproving look.
My eyebrows jumped. Hell seemed a slightly excessive punishment for being thirty seconds late to philosophy class.
“Sorry I’m late,” Keilana murmured, taking the only available chair, which just so happened to be right next to me. Heh.
“Tardiness will not be tolerated.”
Keilana’s lips thinned but she remained polite. “Yes, Dr. Gallop.”
“Good. It’ll be a fresh start then.” She nodded to herself. “I think it’s best that we begin.”
I looked at my watch. From my own brief college experience I remembered that the first class of the semester usually lasted all of about fifteen minutes. The professor would drone through a few moments of personal and then class information, pass out a syllabus, and then we’d be free until the next class. Apparently, however, that’s not the way things worked at Madonna Del Mar.
Dr. Gallop turned a little to face me directly. “We have a new senior transfer student joining us this year.” Now that she wasn’t dealing with Keilana, her mood visibly brightened. “Welcome, Miss Blaisdell.”
I smiled weakly. So much for quietly blending in.
“Let’s start by discussing our assignment, the first forty-five pages of Foucault’s Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. Ms. Blaisdell, whenever you’re ready.”
My mouth shaped a tiny “O.” There was an assignment the first day? The instructor sensed my confusion and pointed to the book in my lap. Then she did something I would have never in a million years suspected. She began speaking to me in tongues! Well, okay, it wasn’t exactly tongues, but it was French and that was the same damn thing as far as I was concerned.
Eyes wide, I glanced around at the other students but everyone acted as though things were completely normal.
Was I in the wrong class? Totally bewildered, I stared at her blankly until she said, “Miss Blaisdell?” Ah, some words I understood.
“Yeah?” Some of the other students began to snicker. Keilana’s expression, however, was fixed in stone.
“Ms. Blaisdell?” Dr. Gallop was losing patience. Her cheeks were just starting to turn pink. “I said, please stand up when I address you.” She did her best to give me an encouraging smile. “It’s tradition here at Madonna Del Mar to stand when being addressed.”
I have a tradition too. It’s puking when I’m nervous. I felt my stomach roil,
but I forced myself to slowly stand. I am an adult, dammit!
“Let’s focus first on the text from page twenty-seven, shall we?”
I hadn’t as much as opened my book before class. I’d been busy trailing Keilana around campus the day before and hadn’t even bought my books until just before the bookstore closed last night. Nobody has an assignment due the first day. Nobody! When I opened the book and peered at the text, my heart sank. The text was gibberish, more French. At least I thought it was French. Dr. Gallop was speaking so quickly the words sounded like one long string of babbling.
Now, I’m not a total novice at French. I took two years of it in high school and all I can say is a cheesy pickup line that asks my victim to go to bed with me. But somehow I was reluctant to use that phrase with our ancient professor.
Dr. Gallop was now pointedly staring at me and the class was growing restless. Worst of all, Shauna was snickering at me. Keilana wouldn’t even look at me. The situation was eerily like a recurring nightmare I’d had all my life, where, to my horror, I had to take a final exam for a class I never actually attended. I glanced around to make sure that none of the other women were topless. Darn. That was always my favorite part of the dream.
I prayed my face wasn’t as red as it felt and I opened my mouth to tell the professor I hadn’t done the assignment when Keilana jumped to her feet and spoke calmly but passionately. In French, no less. I have no idea what she said but the students began shifting uncomfortably in their seats. My mouth dropped open when she changed back to English for the words “pole smoker.”
What the hell?
Dr. Gallop gasped. “That issue will not be addressed in this class. Ever! And moreover, it’s not relevant!” she snapped, in—thank God—English.
“Isn’t it?” Keilana challenged. “Foucault was a homosexual and it’s ridiculous to think that that didn’t impact his opinions on the human psyche. Maybe you should have the guts to talk about that today.” She smiled innocently to take the sting out of her words, a look that I was coming to associate with downright wickedness. “At least that’s interesting,” she continued.
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