When they stopped at the bottom of the ridge, Gregory said, “Let’s not go to Suzanne’s.”
“What?” Ivy exclaimed. She tried to cover her growing apprehension with a show of disbelief and amazement. “Suzanne and I have been friends since we were seven, and you think I’m skipping her seventeenth-birthday party? Drive!” she commanded. “To Lantern Road. Or I’m getting out.”
Gregory rested his hand on her leg and drove to Suzanne’s house. Fifteen minutes later, when Suzanne answered the door, she did not appear overly delighted to see Gregory and Ivy together.
“He insisted on driving me,” Ivy said. “He’ll do anything to make you jealous, Suzanne.”
Gregory shot her a look, but Suzanne laughed, her face brightening.
“You look gorgeous,” Ivy told her friend, and gave her a hug. Ivy felt a moment of hesitation, then Suzanne hugged her back.
“Where do I stash this present?” Ivy asked as a large group of kids who had crammed themselves into a Jeep came in behind them.
“End of the hall,” Suzanne said, pointing to a table with an impressive pile of boxes. Ivy headed quickly in that direction, glad to be away from Gregory. The Goldsteins’ long center hallway led to a family room that ran along the back of the house, its floor-to-ceiling windows facing a porch and the back lawn, which sloped down gently to a pond. It was a warm September night, and the party had spread out from the large room to the porch and lawn below.
Walking out on the porch, Ivy saw Beth sitting in the swing at one end, deep in conversation with two cheerleaders. The two girls were talking excitedly at the same time, and Beth’s head went back and forth as if she were watching a tennis match.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Will, sitting on the wide porch steps next to a girl with auburn hair, the girl he had been with six weeks ago when Ivy ran into him at the mall. Now, she was hot.
“Wish I could read minds,” Gregory said, touching a cold glass to Ivy’s arm.
It seemed impossible to move out from under his shadow.
“What are you doing—putting a hex on that girl?” he asked.
Ivy shook her head. “I was just thinking, thinking that when it comes to hot, that girl is it?.”
Gregory watched Will’s companion for a moment, then shrugged. “Some girls look hot on the outside, but it’s just a tease. Other girls, they put you off, play hard to get, act like ice queens”—he looked at her with laughing eyes—“but they’re running hot.” He moved closer to her. “Real hot,” he whispered.
Ivy flashed him an innocent smile. “Like Philip, I can always learn something from you.”
Gregory laughed. “Did you get a drink?” he asked, offering with his left hand a plastic cup.
“I’m not thirsty,” Ivy said. “Thanks anyway.”
“But I got this for you. I saw you standing over here, checking out Will—”
“I wasn’t checking out Will,” she protested.
“Okay, checking out the redhead, then—her name’s Samantha—and I thought you could use something to cool off.”
“Thanks.” Ivy reached for the cup in his right hand.
Was it her imagination, or did Gregory move it away from her? Ivy had remembered Lacey’s warning and didn’t want to drink from the cup he was offering. But he insisted that she take it, and she finally did. “Thanks. I’ll be seeing you around,” Ivy told him airily.
“Where are you going?”
“Cruising,” she replied. “I didn’t wear this short skirt for nothing.”
“Can I come?”
“Of course not.” She laughed up at him as if he had said something he knew was silly. Inside she was so tense, her stomach hurt when she breathed. “How can I check out guys with you around?”
To her relief, Gregory didn’t follow her. Ivy dumped her soda in the garden as soon as he was out of sight. Working her way around the party, she smiled and listened to any guy who looked as if he needed an audience, while always steering clear of Gregory. She circled around Will, too, and didn’t see either of them again until Suzanne blew out the candles on her cake.
When everyone had gathered for the song and cake-cutting, Suzanne wanted Ivy to stand on one side of her and Gregory on the other. Mrs. Goldstein, who trusted Suzanne enough to watch the party from an upstairs window—without her glasses, she told them—made an entrance with the cake and took what seemed like a hundred pictures of Suzanne, Ivy, and Gregory.
“Now each with your arm around her,” Mrs. Goldstein directed them.
Ivy slipped her arm around Suzanne’s back.
“Beautiful! You’re all beautiful!” Flash.
“Let me get another shot,” Mrs Goldstein said, then shook the camera and muttered to it. “Don’t move.”
They didn’t, not from the front, but behind Suzanne’s back, Gregory began to run a finger up and down Ivy’s arm. Then he used two fingers, stroking her in a slow, caressing motion. Ivy wanted to scream. She wanted to slap him away.
“Smile,” Mrs. Goldstein said. Flash.
“And one more. Ivy—”
She forced a smile. Flash.
Ivy tried not to pull away too quickly from Gregory. She remembered Philip’s dream about the train—the silver snake—that wanted to swallow her up. He’s always watching, Philip had said, and he smells it when you’re afraid.
Suzanne began cutting the cake, and Ivy handed it out. When she gave Gregory a piece, he touched her lightly on the wrist and wouldn’t take the cake till she met his gaze.
Will was next in line. “We keep missing each other,” he said to Ivy.
She was about to tell him to take two plates and meet her by the pond in ten minutes, but then she saw Samantha standing right behind him.
“Big party,” Ivy said.
Fifteen minutes later Ivy was sitting alone on a bench about twenty feet away from the pond, eating her cake and watching Peppermint, Suzanne’s Pomeranian. The little dog, who was regularly shampooed and conditioned, and let outdoors only on a leash, had escaped that night and was happily digging holes in the muddy bank. Then she waded into the pond and began to do the doggy paddle.
Some girls and guys standing by the pond called to the dog, trying to get her to fetch sticks, but Peppermint was as headstrong as her mistress. Then Ivy called softly. Too late she realized her mistake. Peppermint knew Ivy. Peppermint liked Ivy. Peppermint loved cake. She came running on her short little legs, made a flying leap for Ivy’s lap, then scrambled up the rest of the way with her muddy back feet. She put her slimy front paws on Ivy’s chest so she could stand up and lick her face, then dropped down in Ivy’s lap and shook out her thick coat full of water.
“Pep! Hey!” Ivy wiped her face, then shook her own mane hair. The dog saw her chance and gulped the rest of Ivy’s cake. “Pep, you muddy pig!”
Ivy heard a burst of laughter next to her. Will dropped down on the bench beside her. “I’m sorry Mrs. Goldstein wasn’t here with her camera,” he said.
“And I’m sorry you didn’t call Peppermint first,” Ivy replied.
He couldn’t stop laughing. “I’ll get some towels,” he sputtered, “for both of you.”
He was quick about it and brought back a pile of wet and dry cloths. Sitting on the bench next to her, Will cleaned the dog while Ivy tried unsuccessfully to remove the mud from her skirt and top.
“Maybe we should just dump you in the pond and make you all one color,” Will said to Ivy.
“Great idea. Why don’t you go see how deep it is for me?”
He grinned at her, then reached over with a clean cloth and wiped her cheek close to her ear. “It’s in your hair too,” he said.
She felt his fingers pulling gently on her hair, trying to get out the mud. She held still. When he let go of the strands, something inside her floated upward, wanting to be touched again.
Ivy looked down quickly at her skirt and ferociously attacked a mud stain. Then Will set Peppermint on the ground between them. The
clean dog wagged its little tail at him. “I bet you wish you were a puppy like me.”
Ivy and Will turned at the same time and bent down to the dog, bumping their heads together.
“Ow!”
Will started laughing again. They looked in each other’s eyes, laughing at themselves, and didn’t see if Peppermint’s mouth moved when she “spoke” a second time.
“If you were a pup like me, Will, you could jump into Ivy’s arms.”
Ivy thought she recognized the voice and glanced around for a suspicious purple shimmer.
“You could put your head in Ivy’s lap and be cuddled. I know that’s what you’d like.”
Ivy sneaked a peek at Will, embarrassed, but he didn’t look at all sheepish. He was staring at the dog, his mouth drawn up in a little smile. “You can put words in a dog’s mouth, angel,” he said, “but not in mine.”
“You’re no fun! Even if you do have nice buns,” Lacey added.
“I thought they were great buns,” Will said.
Lacey laughed. Ivy spotted her then, right behind them. Apparently she could throw her voice. Now the soft purple shine moved around in front of them.
“Her name’s Lacey,” Ivy told Will.
“I’m disappointed in you two,” Lacey said. “I keep waiting for you to get things going, but you just tippy-toe around each other. As a romance, you get two thumbs down. I’m going to hang out with the kids by the pond.”
Will shrugged. “Have a good time.”
“Something tells me Peppermint won’t be the only one taking a swim tonight,” Ivy remarked under her breath.
The purple mist drifted back to them. “It’s amazing how much we think alike, chick,” Lacey said. “But the fact is, Tristan is still in the darkness, so I’ll probably behave myself tonight. Without him around to fuss at me, it’s not as much fun.”
Ivy smiled a little.
“See, I miss him, too,” Lacey said. For a moment her voice sounded different to Ivy, girlish and wistful. Then the tone became theatrical again: “Whoops, here she comes. Warning, ten feet behind you—chick with a capital C. I’m all gone, boys and girls.”
But Lacey didn’t leave immediately. “Mommy, I went swimming! I had so much fun!” Peppermint “said” in a voice loud enough for Suzanne to hear.
The purple shimmer slipped away as Suzanne came around to the front of the bench.
“Pep! Oh, Pep!” She felt the dog’s wet fur. “You bad girl. I’m going to put you in your kennel.”
Then she saw Ivy’s mud-splattered skirt and top. “Ivy!”
“You going to put me in the kennel, too?” Ivy asked.
Will laughed.
Suzanne shook her head. “I’m so sorry. Bad girl!”
Peppermint lowered her head contritely, until Suzanne turned to Ivy. Then her head popped up, and her tail wagged again.
“It’s my fault,” Ivy said. “I called Peppermint while she was swimming. It’s no big deal—all I need is a little soap.”
“I’ll get it for you,” Suzanne said.
“No, it’s okay,” Ivy replied, smiling. “I know where it is.” She stood up.
“If you want to throw your clothes in the wash,” Suzanne told her, “wear something of mine. You know which is the clean stuff.”
“Whatever isn’t on the floor,” they both said at the same time, and laughed.
Ivy started toward the house and heard Suzanne ask Will how he made that dog voice. She was still smiling to herself when she entered the house. Then she hurried down the hall, glancing around for Gregory, hoping he didn’t see her heading upstairs.
Ivy relaxed when she reached Suzanne’s bedroom, a room she had spent countless hours in, gossiping, reading magazines, trying on makeup. The large, square room was furnished in dark polished wood and carpeted wall to wall in a pure, plush white. Suzanne and Ivy always joked that the best way to keep the carpet clean was to walk on her clothes. But that day Ivy removed her shoes. The room was picked up, with the green silk coverlet pulled smooth on the bed and just one filmy blouse tossed aside. Ivy took off her stained shirt, slipped on the blouse without buttoning it, and headed for Suzanne’s bathroom.
The soap worked well on her knit top. She squeezed the top out in a towel, then hung it on a hanger. Having rigged up the hair dryer as she had seen Suzanne do, she turned it on to dry the knit while she worked on her skirt. Ivy was standing close to sink, pulling up her pale denim skirt and scrubbing it hard, when she felt the hot air on her back and her hair and blouse blow loose. She glanced up quickly.
In the mirror she saw Gregory, aiming the hair dryer at her and laughing.
Ivy wrapped the open blouse around her as if it were a coat. “It’s the top that needs drying, not me,” she said crisply.
Gregory laughed, flicked off the dryer and dropped it, letting it dangle from its electric cord.
“I’m losing patience,” he said.
Ivy stared at him wide-eyed.
“I’m getting tired of chasing you,” he said.
She bit her lip. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”
He tilted back his head, studying her as if he were making some kind of decision. He moved close to her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Liar,” he whispered in her ear. “Every guy out there would be chasing you if they thought they had a chance.”
Ivy’s mind raced. How much had Gregory drunk? What kind of game was he playing?
His arms encircled her. Ivy fought the panic that was growing inside her. She could not get away from him, so she put her arms around him lightly, trying to draw him out of the secluded bathroom. She had left the bedroom door open, and if she made it to where they could be seen and heard—
He moved easily with her into the bedroom. Then she saw that the door to the hall had been closed. He started pushing her toward the bed.
He can’t kill me, not here, she thought as she was pushed back. It’d be too easy to trace him. She stepped back again. His fingerprints are on the hair dryer and the door, she reminded herself, stepping back and back. And someone could walk in at any moment, she told herself. He moved with her, so close she couldn’t see his face.
Ivy tumbled onto the bed and stared up at him. Gregory’s eyes were like hot gray coals. Color crept high in his cheeks. He’s too smart to pull a gun, she thought. He’ll jam a capsule down my throat.
Then Gregory was on top of her. Ivy struggled against him. Gregory laughed at her efforts as she squirmed beneath him, then he groaned softly. “I love you,” he said.
Ivy held still, and he lifted his head, staring down at her, his eyes burning with a strange light. “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
Was this some kind of terrible joke?
“You know things about me,” Gregory said softly, “but you’re in love with me, aren’t you, Ivy? You would never do anything to hurt me.”
Was his ego that big? Was he that crazy? No, she thought, he’s warning me.
He laid his hand on her neck. He stroked her throat with his thumb, then pressed it against her pulse. A smile spread across his face. “What did I tell you? Running hot and fast,” he said. Then he removed his hand from her throat and slowly traced the edge of her unbuttoned shirt. Ivy’s skin crawled.
“Goose bumps.” He seemed pleased. “If a month from now I can’t give you goose bumps with my touch, if you don’t get hot when we kiss, I’ll know you don’t feel the same way you do now.”
He really believed it!
“And that would be too bad,” he said, still tracing her shirt with his finger. “I’d have to figure out what to do with you then.” He leaned on her heavily and pressed his mouth against hers.
Play along, Ivy thought. Play to stay alive. Angels, where are you? She kissed him back, though everything inside her rose up in protest. She kissed him again. Oh, angels, help me! Gregory’s kisses grew more passionate, more insistent.
She pushed against him, catching him by surprise. Shoving him away,
she rolled off the bed. She could not hold it back—Ivy threw up on the rug.
When she stopped retching, she turned to look at Gregory, wiping her mouth with one hand, steadying herself against a chair with the other. She saw an entirely different expression on his face. He knew now. The curtain had been lifted, and there was no more pretending. He had seen exactly what she thought of him. His eyes showed what he now thought about her.
Before either of them could say anything, the bedroom door swung open. Suzanne stood in the doorway. “I noticed both of you were missing,” she began, and gazed past them at the rumpled bed. Then she looked at the mess on the floor. “Oh, God!”
Gregory was ready for her. “Ivy’s had too much to drink,” he said.
“I haven’t. I haven’t had a thing!” Ivy said quickly.
“She can’t tolerate alcohol,” Gregory said, walking toward Suzanne, reaching out toward her.
Ivy moved with him. “Suzanne, please, listen to me.”
“I was worried about her and—”
“I just talked to you,” Ivy reminded Suzanne. “I just talked to you—did I seem drunk?”
But Suzanne looked at her blankly.
“Answer me!” Ivy demanded. The faraway look in Suzanne’s eyes scared her. Her friend’s mind had already been poisoned by what she saw.
“Nice blouse,” Suzanne remarked. “Couldn’t find the buttons?”
Ivy pulled it closed.
“I came up to see if she was all right,” Gregory continued, “and she, you know—” He paused as if he were embarrassed. “She came on to me. I guess that doesn’t really surprise you.”
“It doesn’t,” Suzanne replied in a cool, distant voice.
“Suzanne,” Ivy pleaded, “listen to me. We’ve been friends all this time and you trusted me—”
“This time she came on strong,” Gregory said. He frowned. “I guess it was the booze.”
This time? Ivy thought. “I swear to you, Suzanne, he’s lying!”
“Did you kiss him?” Suzanne asked, her voice shaking. “Did you?” She looked again at the rumpled bed.
“He kissed me!”
Kissed by an Angel/The Power of Love/Soulmates Page 38
