“Funny way of showing it,” I reply, trying to lighten things up. “What’s going on?”
She wipes her eyes. “It’s my parents. The stalker thing, you remember?”
“Yeah.” Last semester I’d learned that Martina’s mom, Erika Martín, who is a famous actress, was being stalked by some freak, which put the entire family on edge.
“Well, the guy is back again, and this time it seems like he’s following my mom around with a camera. He took some picture of her with an old friend from acting school named Lee Ocean. I guess he’s a producer now, but they met in acting school—and back then I’m guessing they were more than friends. Not that she ever said anything to me about it. But why else would my dad have told her that she was not allowed to see this guy? Anyway, now there’s this photo of her kissing Mr. Out-of-bounds and my dad is furious.”
“How do you know all these details?”
“Vivvie, I listen. I am good at finding things out. I’m good at watching people and putting two and two together. It’s how I’ve made it through dealing with Lydia and her crew.”
“Understood. But will this give any proof about who the stalker is? Maybe this will help break the whole case open.”
Martina is shaking her head. “I don’t think so. The thing is that when the photos were delivered to our house, they came with a note from the stalker explaining that the same ones had also gone to a tabloid. I don’t think that typed note will provide any clue about the stalker’s identity. Worse, my mom’s illicit kiss is going to be on the cover of The Hollywood Scene for everyone to see.”
“Oh.” I sit down. “I hate to ask, but what kind of kiss was it?”
“My mom says it’s innocent, and that she just took a meeting with the guy because he wanted her to play a role in one of his upcoming films. I suppose that could be true, but the kiss is on the lips, and what makes it worse is that my dad had already told her not to see him again. Naturally, my mom and dad are fighting now, and sent me back to school early so they could figure some things out.”
“Oh God, I am so sorry.” I hate when I have nothing smart to say, but I just don’t. I am feeling pretty helpless because first Riley and now Martina, are both going through hell. “Maybe chocolate will help?” I say, laughing.
“No. Well . . . actually, that’s not a bad idea. I have some in my purse. It’s on the couch. Want to grab it?”
“Sure.”
I go out to the living room and get her purse. In my clumsiness, I trip over the rug and all of the contents of her purse spill out. Just as I start to shove everything back inside, I see something that shocks me—a condom. I’m at a loss as I return everything to its place. Martina and I talked about guys a lot fall semester, and we were both virgins then—as far as I know that hasn’t changed for her. It hasn’t for me.
Did she meet someone over Christmas break, or is there somebody at school she’s hoping to seduce? If so, why didn’t she say anything during all our long phone conversations over break? I’d even told her about Austen. It had been a relief when she’d insisted that I not feel bad about being attracted to someone besides Tristan. And an even bigger relief that we’d agreed to keep no secrets from each other—and to always share everything.
I hand her the purse, and she digs out the chocolate bar, breaking it in half and handing me a piece.
“Thanks for listening,” she says. “And I’m sorry to unload like this. But you’re the only person I know who I can tell everything to.”
I smile. “I feel the same way about you.” As I bite into the chocolate, though, I can’t help but wonder if she’s the open book she claims to be. Is my friendship with Martina the real thing, or has something shifted while we were on break? All I can hope is that the girl I have been calling friend is still exactly that. But if that’s the case, why does she no longer trust me?
CHAPTER seven
Have you seen Tristan?” Martina asks.
“Yep, and he looks good, too,” I say. “He picked me up from the airport.”
“How did the rest of the break go with Austen?” She tosses back her dark hair and smiles at me, her brown eyes lighting up with curious interest.
I pause before answering. Now that I suspect she’s not sharing her secrets with me, I almost regret that I’ve already shared pretty much everything with her. My connection with Austen is my big secret, other than my teeny tiny secret about the psychic communication thing I have going on with horses. That one I’m just not willing to share whatsoever.
“Nothing much more to tell,” I say. “I told you everything that happened, which wasn’t much. I was just feeling confused about Austen. But in hindsight I’m thinking it’s just leftover kid stuff. You know? Because we grew up together and everything.”
She gives me an odd look. Even I can tell that my voice sounds edgy. Fortunately, I am saved by the ringing of my cell phone.
I’m relieved to hear Tristan’s voice when I pick up.
“Hey, you,” he says. I’m guessing he’s calling because Riley is desperate for an update on my talk with Joel.
“Hey you, yourself,” I say, smiling, as I realize that the sound of his voice has made my stomach get that fluttery feeling it tends to get when he’s around.
“Yeah, well, Riley has been on me for the past twenty to give you a call and see what went down with Joel.”
“It was all good. Why don’t we meet up in the cafeteria? I’m still hungry, and I can fill you in.”
“Okay. Ten minutes?”
“Yeah.” I hang up the phone and look at Martina.
“Fill him in on what?”
Boy, is she inquisitive today. Or else, I am being ultra sensitive. “Oh, nothing. We just haven’t had the chance to talk about Christmas break.”
Great. I feel weird being dishonest with her, but here’s the thing . . . I promised Riley that I would never tell a soul about him being gay. And I keep my promises. The only problem is that lying to Martina doesn’t feel right. Oh, being caught in the middle of all of these secrets feels like migraine material, or worse—precursor to a breakout.
“Guess you won’t be mentioning Austen,” she says.
“You guessed right. Like I said, though, there’s nothing to say. It’s just, you know, we’ve known each other forever so we’ll always have this connection . . . I don’t know why I was acting weird about it. It’s nothing.”
She raises her eyebrows and cocks her head. “Whatever you say. But don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. You going to eat?” she asks.
“Yes.” I have to invite her, otherwise she’ll wonder. “You want to come? Might take your mind off of things.”
“Sure. I’m hungry, too.”
I smile but can’t help thinking that I should pop some aspirin, and quickly. That migraine might be just around the corner.
Walking to the cafeteria, we pass by some of the grooms that work at Fairmont. They’re sitting on a grassy knoll eating their lunches. There are only about six or seven of them because only the owners of Fairmont, Kayla and Holden, and the instructors, have personal grooms. As students, we groom our own horses, which is how it should be. I know some of the guys’ faces because they help clean and bed the stalls during the week—we only do that on the weekends since it’s time-consuming. I don’t know how I’d get that done along with all my homework.
As we pass by the group of guys, I can’t help but notice the way Martina gives one of them a bright smile. I don’t recognize him. He must be new. He smiles back at her. I’m not good at guessing ages of college-age guys, but I can tell he’s young, maybe twenty or so. He’s good-looking—dark hair, soulful eyes, tanned skin, all muscle. I can understand why she would smile at him. When I steal a sideways glance at her, she’s blushing.
“I’d say it looks like there have been some new additions around here while we were on break,” I
say. “Not complaining. That one is hot.”
“I agree,” she replies. “He’s Holden’s new groom.”
“And you know this because . . .?”
“I hung around here over break like I told you I was going to. I turned Harmony out for you, and rode Jetson,” she replies, referring to her dark bay Thoroughbred gelding.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for that,” I say.
“I was glad to have extra things to do,” she says. “But I think Harmony missed you.”
“I missed her, too. I wish I could have taken her back home with me.” I sigh. “I have to tell you that I’m scared that someday I’ll lose her. I mean, after all, she isn’t mine. She belongs to the Fairmonts. What will I do when I go off to college?”
“Maybe they’ll lease her to you,” Martina suggests. “They know you have a strong bond, and it’s obvious that you two make a good team. Everyone sees that, including the Fairmonts.”
I smile at her. “Maybe . . . and thanks.” I appreciate her compliment. If she only knew what Harmony and I have really been through together. Without Harmony’s help in solving Dr. Miller’s murder last semester, it’s likely that Newman Becker would still be a free man teaching students like us at Fairmont.
“It can’t hurt to approach them sooner rather than later to start that conversation,” she says.
“Maybe you’re right,” I reply as we round the path. The cafeteria is straight ahead of us.
By the time we walk inside the dining hall, Tristan and Riley are already there. I spot the DZ—Lydia, Shannon, and Alicia—and notice that they’re present minus charter member Emily Davenport. I can’t help wondering where she is. Emily had provided the missing link to me last semester when it came to discovering that Newman was the murderer who’d killed Dr. Miller. Helping me seems like enough wrongdoing to make Lydia and her crew shun Emily, and worse, her information also led to Lydia’s brother having to spend some time in jail. Given this, I can only assume they’ve kicked her to the curb.
In a way, I think it will be good for her. I believe Emily is probably a decent girl deep down and deserves better friends. If they’ve kicked her out of their mean-girl sessions, I hope she knows that we have an empty seat at our lunch table waiting for her. But then again, I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Just because I don’t see Emily does not mean that she isn’t a part of the DZ any longer. If I’ve learned anything at Fairmont, it’s that things are hard to predict.
Riley’s eyes widen when I arrive at the table with Martina. I’m guessing he’s annoyed, since her presence means that I can’t exactly spell out the details about my discussion with Joel. But, being a good sport, he jumps up and gives Martina the obligatory embrace. She hugs him back. Ah . . . this would be bliss . . . if only my two best friends weren’t both suffering and seemingly hiding things from me.
Tristan stands up and takes my hand, tugging me in the direction of the food. “Can we finally eat?”
“Yep.” I feel rather than see the resentful looks fired at me from the DZ’s side of the room as I walk up to the salad bar with Tristan. I just don’t look. I can sort of understand the hard feelings, but it isn’t my fault that Lydia’s brother was such a heartless and greedy criminal that he made the decision to kill Lydia’s horse just for the insurance money. Okay, maybe it was my fault he got caught. But it was what he deserved.
Riley gets behind us in line and nudges me as soon as Martina walks off to fill her glass at the drink dispenser. “So?” he asks.
“I think it’s all good, Ri. I don’t think Joel has any intentions of causing harm, or making waves, or anything. I think he’s here to go to school and ride. I really do.” I’m not sure that I really believe this, but the only thing I can think to do right now is try to put Riley’s mind at ease.
“So he did it to you, too.”
“What?”
“Worked you. That’s him. I told you. That’s how he does it.” Riley’s light-green eyes fill with an anger that I haven’t seen in them before.
“No. I really don’t think so.”
Tristan gives us a head nod as Martina approaches, and we all grow quiet as we finish making salads. We sit back down at our table. I try and start up a conversation about our schedules for this semester to brush off the awkwardness I’m feeling about everything that is going unsaid.
“Wonder what Christian Albright will be like as a jump coach,” I say. Then, I feel Riley tense up. He’s seated on one side of me and Tristan is on the other. I look at him and see the issue.
Joel has just sat down at the table occupied by the DZ. He looks over at all of us and gives a wave. I hear Riley mutter under his breath, “I think I’m going to puke. I told you, Viv. This isn’t good.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure what to think. When I’d talked with Joel at the barn, I’d wanted to believe the possibility that he was being truthful. I’d hoped that he had nothing but good wishes for Riley. But I feel those hopes dissipating quickly as I watch Joel sit down across from Lydia.
Maybe Riley is right—maybe Joel is exactly the bad guy Riley claims he is. If the table he’s decided to sit down at says anything, it’s that Joel just may be a snake. After all, he’s sitting down in the snake pit.
CHAPTER eight
Riley eats in near silence. Actually, he barely eats at all. Tristan gives me a sideways glance. He’s trying to be playful with me, but as much as I’d rather mindlessly flirt with him, I can’t—the moment is too awkward. But I appreciate that he’s trying to make things seem totally normal so Martina won’t be alerted to the fact that something is obviously wrong with Riley. Tristan knows as well as I do that Riley would be mortified by having to tell anyone else what’s going on with him.
Tristan pats my knee. “You know, I want to get our things and check in at the office. My dad asked me to be sure they received the board check for Sebastian. Let’s meet up later. I’ll text you,” he says.
I know when he says this that Tristan is being his usual decent and sensitive self. He knows that Riley’s suffering and that he’s going to be more comfortable sharing his feelings with me than with another guy—even a guy as cool as Tristan. I get that Tristan is giving us the space to talk. We just have to get away from Martina, and I’m not sure how to do that. I don’t want to leave her out of things, but I want to be super respectful of Riley.
Tristan stands and bends down to kiss me. He gives me a quick peck on the lips, but just because it’s fast doesn’t mean it doesn’t send a warm rush through me. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says. “I’ll drop your stuff by your room if you want. Is your door open?”
“I think so. We left it unlocked, didn’t we?” I ask Martina.
“Yeah.” She glances up from her cell phone where she is punching out a text. “It’s open. Hey, I hate to run off, but I need to take care of something.” She puts her phone into her purse and withdraws a tube of lip gloss as she stands up. “See you in a bit.” She gives us a little wave, and I am kind of baffled. Martina isn’t exactly one to reapply lip gloss for no reason, and her hasty departure makes me wonder what’s up. But, it does give Riley and me some time to talk.
I give Tristan one more quick kiss and watch him go. He turns back on his heels as he’s halfway to the door and smiles at me. I wave and find myself giggling. I glance at Lydia’s table, and, sure enough, discover her eyes trained on my boyfriend like a hawk. Whatever.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Riley. “Doesn’t look like you’re in the mood to eat.”
But even when we leave the dining hall and its massive balloon of tension behind, it’s clear that poor Riley is still a ball of nerves.
Neither of us says anything until we make it over to the pathway that leads to the duck pond, which is a quiet location that’s out of the way.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say. “It
will.”
Riley doesn’t look at me. “You don’t know that, Vivvie. There’s a lot of history between Joel and me, and it isn’t all good. I can’t go into it. Crap! I don’t like it at all. How could Joel do this? He is here to ruin my life.”
“Did you ever hear him talk about wanting to come to Fairmont?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Yeah. I guess so. Who doesn’t? But I didn’t believe it would happen. We’re going into the second semester of our junior year. How did he even get in? Who moves from the East Coast to the West, and changes everything about their life in the middle of their junior year? Why would they want to?”
I have no good answers other than “Maybe you should try to take it at face value for now. There isn’t much more that you can do. I mean, maybe Joel is here for the reasons he gave me.”
“I doubt it. Seriously doubt it. Look who he was already hanging with. What if he’s already told the DZ about me? If so, it won’t be long before the entire student body knows, and then my parents . . . Once they find out, Viv—there’ll be hell to pay.”
I rub his arm and say, “I’m sorry. Let’s try and not think the worst.” I just really have no great advice. We take a seat on a bench in front of the pond. A half-dozen ducks are on its surface creating ripples. A spray of water from the fountain in the middle sprinkles them with a light shower.
“If my dad finds out, he’ll pull me out of here. He’ll sell Santos, and send me to a retreat where some skewed psychotherapist deep within the church will use the church’s beliefs to make me ‘right,’ ” he says, his remark dripping with sarcasm.
“Are they really that close-minded? Your parents?” I ask.
He laughs, but not as if it’s funny. “Like two doors slammed shut. That’s how close-minded.”
“Riley? What can I do?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. You know what? You know why this sucks so bad? Because of what you just said. Asking me if my parents are that close-minded.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, somewhat confused.
Dark Harmony: A Vivienne Taylor Horse Lover's Mystery (Fairmont Riding Academy Book 2) Page 4
