She exited the stall and scanned the bathroom for the ubiquitous metal box. She found nothing on her initial sweep, and began a more thorough search, checking under the sinks and in each corner of the room. Finally, she gave up and threw her hands in the air. “If we had a female president, there would be some freaking tampons in this bathroom,” she said aloud.
“Amen to that,” said a voice behind her, followed by a loud chuckle.
Sadie’s cheeks instantly started to burn. “Oh, um, sorry,” she called. “I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”
She heard a flush, and a woman emerged from the last stall. She was wearing a simple black dress, and a small diamond stud in each ear sparkled in contrast with her dark skin. “Don’t apologize — that’s the best laugh I’ve had all night.” She approached the sink and flipped on the tap. “Plus, you’re probably right. I bet they have cold beers and ESPN in the men’s room.” She grinned, then opened her clutch and pulled out a tampon. “Don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”
Sadie exhaled. “Oh god, thank you.”
When she was finished, the woman was leaning toward the mirror, tracing her lips in deep red. Sadie glanced at her reflection as she washed her hands, and the woman smiled.
“That’s a really beautiful dress,” she said. She pressed her lips together. “How did someone as young as you manage to get ahold of Chanel’s spring collection before some Hollywood starlet snatched it up?”
Sadie blushed and looked at the floor. “A friend lent it to me.”
The woman raised her eyebrows, and Sadie felt embarrassment washing over her.
“I’m really not that into fashion. Wearing this kinda makes me feel like I’m in a costume or something.”
A corner of the woman’s mouth turned up in a half smile. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but this is the eleventh White House function I’ve worn this dress to.” She hooted with laughter. “A plain black dress no one remembers is a poor White House reporter’s best friend.” She stuck out a hand. “Charlie Ronson. I cover the Hill for the National.”
Sadie shook her hand. “Oh, wow. I know who you are. My dad quotes from your columns all the time.” She adjusted the bodice of her dress nervously. “Sadie Marlowe. I, uh, crash White House parties in borrowed clothes because I happen to know someone with connections.”
Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Must be some connections. Let me guess, Keating Hall?”
“How’d you know?”
The woman laughed. “Wild guess. So how’d you end up there? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been covering D.C. royalty for a long time, and something about you just doesn’t seem like the type.”
Sadie smiled. “Lacrosse scholarship. I just transferred this fall. Are you an alum?”
The woman threw her head back and laughed. “Please. I went to public school in Chicago. I may report on the upper crust, but I’ve always been an outsider looking in. I’m an explorer — navigating unfamiliar territory and always taking copious notes.”
Sadie snorted. “Sometimes I feel like I’m part of some weird experiment, like Jane whatshername and the chimps. I like to think I’m the scientist and they’re the monkeys, but honestly, I’m not even sure anymore.”
Charlie eyed her curiously. “You know, I know exactly what you mean.”
“Is it fun, though? Your job? I’ve always thought it would be pretty cool to be a reporter.”
Charlie looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if I’d describe it as fun, but it’s rewarding.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper. “Here. Take my card. If you ever want to check out the newspaper industry for yourself, give me a call. I can take you around the office, show you how we get things done.”
Sadie took the card. “Wow, thanks. My dad’s going to die when I tell him.”
“It was nice to meet you, Sadie Marlowe.” She waved a hand and started for the door.
“Hey, Charlie?” Sadie called. “This is kind of embarrassing to admit, but I always thought you were a guy, you know? I mean … a man.”
Charlie’s eyes sparkled. “Can’t say that’s an accident. One thing I wish someone would have told me when I was your age is a male name on a resume will get you far, especially in this town. They can’t keep you out of the boys’ club if they don’t know you’re not a card-carrying member.” She grinned. “Now go have fun. I may be on the clock, but you and that dress should be on the dance floor.”
She swept away toward the door, leaving Sadie slightly stunned and still holding her card.
On the way back she stopped at the bar and ordered a Coke. Champagne was so deceptive — it went down like Sprite, and then ten minutes later everything around her would be spinning and her hands would look weird. She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling.
“Aren’t you a little young to be at the bar?” The voice was smooth and rich. She forced a smile.
“Hi, Mr. Cranston,” she mumbled. “It’s just a Coke, I would never — ”
He laughed. “Relax. I’m not here as a chaperone. And you should call me Teddy.” He took another step toward her and leaned an elbow on the bar. A wave of his cologne surrounded her, making her feel a little dizzy.
She exhaled and forced her shoulders to un-hunch.
“So, are you having fun? I trust my son is behaving himself?”
“I am, thank you. And yeah, Finn’s great,” she lied. So far he had spent most of the night trying to grope one of the first daughters on the dance floor while Thayer glared at him from across the room. “I heard you got us our tickets tonight. That was really generous of you.”
He waved a hand. “You deserve it, and it’s never too early to start meeting the right people. Have you been mingling?”
“A little,” she lied again. “I just met Charlie Ronson, she’s really cool.”
He nodded politely. “If there’s anyone in particular you would like to shake hands with, just give the word and I’d be happy to make the introduction. If you’re looking for a summer internship or the chance to be a congressional page, we can definitely make that happen.”
“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll take you up on that.”
He held her gaze. “And of course, if there’s ever anything else I can do for you, feel free to ask.”
Before she could respond, the bartender returned and looked questioningly at Teddy.
“Bourbon, splash of water, two cubes.” The words rolled off Teddy’s tongue like warm milk.
Sadie picked up her drink and turned to leave. “Have a good night, Mr. Cranston. Thanks again for inviting us.”
“You know, Sadie, I didn’t see it before, but you really remind me of your mother tonight. Especially in that dress — she always liked wearing blue.”
The words fell like bricks on her chest. She set her glass back down on the bar with a loud thump. “You knew my mom?”
He looked surprised. “Of course. I assumed you knew that.”
She shook her head.
“We were in school together. Well, she was at Keating while I was at Graff. Class of ’89.”
Sadie looked up again, and she was surprised to see that his face had stiffened. There was a tightness about his jaw, and his eyes mechanically followed the bartender’s movements. For the first time, she realized how blue they were, like the ocean.
“It was a real shame what happened to her,” he said, his voice flat. “She was a beautiful young woman who could have had a bright future ahead of her.”
Sadie swallowed hard. “Did you know her well?”
His face was still. “I did.”
He smiled widely then, and it was so sudden it was like his expression had cracked into a million pieces. “We dated, actually.”
Her mouth dropped open. She searched her brain for an appropriate response, but found nothing.
He touched her arm. “That was a long time ago, though. Enjoy your evening, Sadie.” And then he was gone. She stood, motionl
ess, at the bar until the bartender plunked down Teddy’s bourbon and looked at her with eyebrows raised.
“He left,” she said.
The bartender shrugged and turned away. She grabbed the bourbon, leaving her untouched Coke on the bar in a puddle of its own sweat.
It was raining again by the time they rolled quietly through the gates of DeGraffenreid’s main entrance. After a few terse words from Finn, the driver flipped off his lights and drove stealthily through campus toward the tower.
Inside the salon, Brent and Connor flipped on the enormous gas fireplace and the room slowly started to heat up. They lounged on couches and on the thick carpet, drinking and smoking.
Sadie was lying on a leather couch with Jeremy beside her, his fingers tracing a long, slow path down her bare arm. She could feel the heat from the fire licking at her skin, and she felt heavy, happy, and warm.
“Hey, you’re empty,” Jeremy said, gesturing to her glass.
She looked at it lazily and laughed, tipping it upside down. “Don’t we have butlers or something for this? Butler!” She tried to snap, but her fingers felt like rubber.
He grinned and sat up. “You know, I think they’re starting to get to you.”
She jabbed him softly in the ribs and feigned shock. “Yeah, says the guy who spent all night following Finn around and shaking hands with senators.”
He stood up and held out his hands, palms up. “Guilty. I figure if I’m at the White House I might as well make a few friends, right?” He took her glass. “Be right back.”
Sadie propped herself up on an elbow and watched him walk away. He had ditched his tie and jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. She grinned widely, then caught herself and quickly bit her lip.
She struggled to her feet, and for the second time that night, she realized she had no idea how to get to the bathroom. The room spun around her, and she reached out a hand to steady herself on the couch’s armrest.
The hallway was cold and damp, and she shivered as a slow breeze blew past her. She made her way along slowly, running one hand along the inner wall to keep her steady. The first three doors she found were locked and rusted shut, and behind the fourth was the white dressing room. She found herself back at the salon door and turned this time toward the narrow winding stairs. The only time she had ever been off this floor was the night she was initiated, and her skin tingled with residual energy as she climbed upward.
On the next floor the hallway stretched dark and shadowed in two directions. She chose left and walked on, tiptoeing from one circle of light to the next. She knew she didn’t really need to be quiet, but something about the chilly darkness just made her feel like the stillness shouldn’t be disturbed.
After a few yards she breathed a sigh of relief. She could hear a low murmur of voices, and she knew she must be close. Light glowed softly under the next door, and she pushed it open.
As her eyes swept the room, she froze. At first, she just saw skin and limbs and leather, but when her mind made sense of the images she wished she could break it up again and put it back in pieces.
It was a small room, lit by dim lanterns, and in the center was a low wooden table. On the table was a round mirror covered with a dusting of white powder, and there was a black leather couch along one wall. Olivia lay sprawled across it, one leg splayed open with her foot hanging slack in the air. Her eyes were closed and her head hung limply to one side, damp hair hanging across her face. Her dress was bunched up around her thighs.
“Get the hell out of here,” someone yelled, and everything snapped back to focus. Finn was hunched over the table and Brent and Josh sat on the floor nearby. They were all staring at her, and they all looked angry.
“Oh god, sorry,” she mumbled, stumbling backward out of the room. She ran down the hallway and ducked into the first door she saw, slamming it behind her and leaning her back against the cool surface. She breathed hot, fast gasps into the darkened room and tried to push the image out of her mind. When she started feeling dizzy, she slid down the wall and put her head on her knees.
After a few minutes she struggled to her feet and blinked at the darkness. She could tell she was in a large room, but she couldn’t make out anything else. She felt along the wall until she found a light switch and flipped it on.
She knew immediately where she was, and she looked around, suddenly intrigued. The altar was on a raised platform in the center of the room, and tonight it was covered in heavy black cloth. On top of it sat a huge leather-bound book, open on a polished marble stand.
As she got closer, she realized the pages were covered with columns of small, inky script — lists of names, each with a corresponding year. She stood over the book and traced her finger down the last column. Her body tensed as she saw her own, Sadie May Marlowe, right below Jeremy’s at the bottom of the page. She was the last one.
Instinctively she looked around her, but the room was empty. She turned back page after page and watched as the classes of the last ten, then twenty years flew by. When she got to the members from 1987, she skimmed down the page.
There it was. And wasn’t.
The name listed read Maylynne Hester Ralleigh. She realized she had been holding her breath, and she let it out in a long, slow whistle. She stared at the page for a long time.
Thayer had been right — Sadie was the one who didn’t know her own mother’s real name. She blinked back the tears that sprang up behind her eyelids. What the hell was going on?
She forced herself to look away and turned the pages back. She felt her mom pulling farther and farther away from her as the pages turned, and she felt the pain of her loss all over again. When she got to the most recent page, she turned it carefully to make sure she didn’t rip the heavy paper. Her eyes were blurred with tears, but as she laid it flat, a name just four lines above hers swam into focus. She leaned closer to make sure, but it was there, in ink just as permanent as her own.
Anna Francis Ralleigh.
She frowned. Sadie blinked again as something tugged at the back of her mind. If this was the same Anna — the girl who had disappeared last year — then two former members of the Optimates were dead. She turned the pages back again, just to be sure, holding her breath until she saw the proof. But it was right there, in black and white: Ralleigh.
Two members were dead, and they were related.
Sadie stepped back from the book. Suddenly she didn’t want to touch it.
She was still standing in front of it, staring like it might suddenly burst into flame, when she heard the door open.
“Fuck, Sadie,” said a raspy voice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
It was Josh. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were wide and rimmed with red. He was fidgeting, and his whole body seemed to buzz with nervous energy.
Before she could speak he held up his hands. “Don’t say anything. I know how that looked.” He came toward her at a jog, and instinctively she stepped back. Her hip smacked into the table with a loud thud, and she winced in pain.
“I didn’t even really see anything, Josh,” she said. “The light, you know, my eyes hadn’t adjusted.”
He bounded up the steps until he was standing just inches away. “You’re lying.” He looked her square in the eye. “We didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. You know what she’s like — she’ll give it to whoever wants it.”
Sadie stared back. “She didn’t look like she was giving anything.”
He laughed without warmth. “Please. You don’t get that hammered without knowing what it means.”
Anger welled up in Sadie’s stomach, and her throat suddenly felt tight. “So that gives you the right to — ”
Fire flashed in his eyes, and suddenly she was scared to say it. She looked away. “You know what, it’s none of my business.” Even saying the words made her so angry she wanted to scream.
“You’re Brett’s friend.” He paused and ran a hand anxiously through his disheveled hair. “
It was stupid, I know. But she won’t find out, and you’re not going to tell her. I’ll make it up to her, I promise.”
He grabbed Sadie’s wrist and squeezed, hard. “You won’t tell her, right?” His hand was cold and slick with sweat. The scene flashed back through her mind, and her stomach rolled. She couldn’t talk about this anymore.
“I won’t.”
He let her go, but he didn’t step back. He was still staring at her, red faced and glassy-eyed, his sour breath in her nostrils. Her eyes slid down and fell on the book.
“So, this has all the members in it, right?”
Josh looked over his shoulder and seemed to relax. “Oh, yeah. Cool, right? That book’s like a hundred years old or some shit.” He flipped to the beginning. “You have to see this.” The first few pages were filled with text, and he pointed out the group’s mission statement and the script they read at the induction ceremony. “You know, all that stuff they say about brotherhood and Zeus and whatever,” he said. She nodded. He turned one more page and pointed. “There — look at the first member.”
She squinted at the book, then scoffed loudly.
Josh looked at her incredulously. “What’s so funny?”
“That’s some kind of joke, right? I mean, come on.”
He shook his head. “No way. He was the original founder. It’s changed a lot since then obviously — Keating and Graff didn’t even exist yet — but he started it.”
She still didn’t believe it. “Thomas Jefferson? As in, the Thomas Jefferson? The Declaration of Independence and Monticello — that guy?”
He grinned. “Yeah, Sadie. Look.”
She looked at the page again and saw the name scrawled in large, familiar letters. She shook her head. “How?
“Well, it’s a long story. It’s all in the book, though.” He tapped the yellowed pages with one finger.
“Give me the shortened version.”
He scratched his head and took a deep breath. “Okay, um, so you know about frats and sororities, right?”
Poor Little Dead Girls Page 19
