by Sophia Sharp
“So then, you guys were together for a while?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation away from me. The simplest lies are the best, and the less we talk about the circumstances of my meeting with Rich, the less chance I have of accidentally saying something that might not match what he had told Amanda.
Amanda sighs. “You could say that. Almost half a year. He was crazy for me. Told me I meant the world to him, told me I was his only true love.” She looks down at her hands. “But, you know. Things change. People drift apart. Sometimes, even love isn’t enough to keep them together.”
“Did you love him?” I ask, trying to figure out how Amanda’s story meshes with the one Rich had told me.
“Of course!” she says fiercely. “Why would I stay in a relationship for so long if I didn’t?”
“Convenience? Apathy? Indifference?”
Amanda scowls at me. “You sound like you’re forty years old and stuck in a loveless marriage. No. Of course not. I loved him.”
“Then why did you break up?”
“He became too possessive.” Amanda’s eyes flicker to meet mine for a moment, then she looks away again. “He thought he could control me, tell me where I could go, who I could see, what I could wear.” She shivers visibly. “It was suffocating.”
“That doesn’t really sound like Rich.”
Amanda’s eyes shoot back to meet mine. “Just you wait,” she warns. “Things will be going smoothly at first, and then—” she snaps her fingers, “—he’ll change. They always do.”
“You’re assuming,” I point out, “that we’re together.”
Amanda looks taken aback. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure,” I say slowly. I don’t know exactly what Rich had told Amanda about us. If I admit or deny a hard fact like that, and Rich had told her something different, she might get suspicious. Better to play it safe.
“Come now, don’t play coy. I’ve seen the way you look at him. You lust after him, don’t you? I bet he showed you the time of your life the night you met.”
I feel my cheeks go three types of red. Amanda gives a delighted laugh and points at me. “You see? I can tell these things.” She lowers her voice. “I taught him everything he knows.”
I clear my throat and look away before the blush turns my whole body red. “Ahem. Can we talk about something else?”
Amanda raises her hands in the air, palms forward. “Sure. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.” It sounds like a judgment.
“Well, I am,” I fire back, stiffening. I’m actually not, not really, but I don’t have any great desire to talk about sex with Amanda, either. “Is that a problem?”
“No, no problem. What would you like to talk about, then?” She looks at the clock behind her. “I’ve got to go soon, though. Work beckons.”
“Where do you work?” I ask, hoping to pull the conversation back into neutral territory.
“In town,” Amanda answers slyly.
“That’s not what I meant—”
“I know it’s not what you meant. But those types of questions lead to such boring conversations. It’s like all those clueless guys at the bars.” Amanda holds her hands out in front of her and mimes them talking to each other. “‘Oh, hi, can I buy you a drink?’ ‘Sure, why not?’ ‘So, what do you do?’ ‘I’m a hairdresser.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Do you, um, like it?’ ‘It pays the bills.’ ‘Hmm.’” Amanda rolls her eyes and groans. “Please. Don’t tell me you want to have one of those conversations with me. Anyway, I bet Richard didn’t say anything of the kind when you met.”
I think back to that night. Even though only a few days have passed, it feels like a lifetime ago. I wonder how Abby’s managing after getting evicted. I wonder what she thinks has happened to me. Probably that I’m staying away because I’m pissed at her.
“You’re right,” I say finally. “He didn’t say anything like that.”
“You see? Those conversations are BO-RING. As if you can tell anything about a person by where she works. You won’t know if she’s fun to be around, if she’s trustworthy. If she’s ever slept with your ex…” Amanda meets my eye and holds it. I clear my throat again. She laughs. “Tell me. How much do you know about Richard?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said. How much do you know about the man you came here with?”
I shift in my seat. “You mean like, his history? Not a lot.”
Amanda nods. “Did he tell you about his family?”
“Just a tiny bit.”
“Figures. When I met him, he was trying to get away from them.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Who knows if I should be telling you this…” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “but I don’t think Rich will mind. Did he tell you who his father is?”
“No.” I pause. “Though I know they didn’t get along.”
Amanda scoffs. “That’s putting it lightly. Richard hates his father. And he has good reason to. He grew up in a broken home.”
“What do you mean?”
“His mother died… Wait. Do you know about her?”
I nod. “Rich told me she passed away.”
“I thought so. If he told you about his dad, he must have mentioned his mom. He has no reason to keep her a secret. Anyway, she died when he was young. He says he doesn’t remember her. I think he does, but locks the memories up somewhere.” Amanda shrugs. “But what do I know? That’s not the point, anyway.”
I’m not really following. “What is the point?”
“Only this: His mother died under suspicious circumstances.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, Richard’s father was a wealthy, well-connected man. He never married Richard’s mother. The year she died, his father campaigned to become Governor of New York. He didn’t win. But because he was never married, yet had kids with her, his opponents ran a smear campaign. His political district was very conservative in those days. They wanted a governor with strong family values, an unwavering belief in God, and all that other bullshit.” Amanda makes a dismissive gesture. “The mother of his children was his weakness. To win his electoral back, he made grand pronouncements about marrying Richard’s mother. As damage control, of course.
“She came from an unknown family,” Amanda continues. “Richard showed me a picture of her once. She was beautiful. Yet to his father, she was nothing more than another pretty face.” Amanda pauses, and takes a deep breath. “A month before the wedding she went missing. A week later, her body was found in a ditch. Police never solved the crime.”
“And Rich suspects his father was involved?” I ask, incredulous.
“Of course. Think of the timing. His father did not want to marry. It wasn’t like he could marry her and get a divorce later—not if he won the election. It would crush his hopes for a second term. But a kidnapping, a murder? It was the perfect solution for his problem. He’d be rid of the woman he didn’t want around, and gain sympathy from the public at the same time.” Amanda looks at me. “Quite clever of him, I’d say.”
“Yeah, if you’re a raving sociopath.” I shake my head. “I don’t believe it. If it’s so obvious to you and Rich, why didn’t the police catch on?”
“Oh, but you underestimate the power of money. Richard’s father had a lot. He also had friends in high places. The investigation was a sham. All the proper bribes were put in place to make sure of it.”
“That’s horrible!” I exclaim.
“Now you see why Richard and his father don’t get along. That was just one of many incidences.”
“You don’t mean he killed other people?”
Amanda shakes her head. “No. Don’t be stupid. But he had plenty of dealings with unsavory types.” She lowers her voice. “And he never killed Richard’s mother. That’s just our suspicion.”
I nod slowly. I don’t know how much of this to believe, but on the whole, Amanda seems genuine. It wouldn’t be easy for her to make up a story like that
on the spot.
I think I’m starting to understand her, a little bit. When she is playing the part of the jaded ex-lover, she probably tells the truth. But when it comes to the circumstances surrounding her breakup with Rich,… well, who wouldn’t try to make herself look better in that situation?
“Okay then,” I say. “What else?”
“What else?” Amanda chuckles. “That should be reason enough for anybody to hate their father.”
“You said Rich grew up in a broken home.”
Amanda leans toward me. “That much is true. After his mother died, a parade of women started visiting his father. All his… mistresses.” Amanda grimaces. “It kept up until Richard left. Hell, it probably continues to this day.”
So Amanda doesn’t know his father is in jail. “Interesting.”
“He never made time for Richard, either. It was either his work, or his women. You can see how a boy growing up in an environment like that could become spiteful.”
“Yeah. What happened to prompt Rich to finally leave, though?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
Amanda bites her lip. “I don’t doubt he would if you ask…” she trails off and glances at the clock. “But I’ve got a few more minutes. You know Richard got accepted to Princeton, right?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “The Ivy League school? No.”
Amanda grins proudly. “Yeah. He doesn’t mention it much. But his father was an alumnus. Same with his grandfather. In fact, all the men in the Blackthorne family had traditionally been educated at Princeton.”
“I mean, I knew Rich was sharp, but Ivy League smart?” I pause. “That’s impressive.”
“Don’t go telling him that, though,” Amanda warns. “That’s one surefire way to set him off.”
“What?” I ask, puzzled. “Why?”
“He doesn’t put much stock in traditional methods of education. Or in the traditional value of money. He’s seen what both did to his father.”
“But I met him at the community college. You did too, right?”
“That’s where he went instead of Princeton.”
“That’s traditional education, isn’t it? Except much less prestigious.”
Amanda laughs with contempt. “Don’t mention ‘prestige’ to him, either. He’ll light up faster than a forest in a heat wave.”
“Fine. But why go to a community college when you could go to Princeton?”
“So he doesn’t end up like his father, for one,” Amanda explains. “For another, I think it allowed him to go at his own pace. It’s much less cut-throat here than on the east coast.”
“I can imagine,” I say. In high school, I’d seen the sort of competitiveness that drives kids toward acceptances to the country’s top colleges. Stories of sabotage and betrayal filtered down through the grapevine. Some had been absolutely appalling. One girl faked her own suicide to get the school to close down for a day, just so she could have extra time to study for a test. The year after, she matriculated at Harvard. “Still, if Rich is so smart, I don’t see how he can be satisfied with taking what are more-or-less remedial high school classes.”
“He reads a lot,” Amanda says. “You’ve been to his apartment, right? You’ve seen all the books on his shelves? They’re like his only possessions—other than the bed.” She purses her lips and looks uncertain for a moment. “Unless he’s changed the place around.”
A light comes on in my head. So that’s what all the boxes in his hall were. His books. Of course he’d want them out of harm’s way when it came time for his friends to trash the place. “No, it’s still exactly like that.”
Amanda smiles. “See? You’ve got to learn to piece these things together, Penelope.”
I shrug off the slightly-provoking comment. “So Rich didn’t go to Princeton. Is that what caused the rift between him and his father?”
“I’d say the rift was there long before. Princeton was more like the straw that broke the camel’s back. His father kicked him out of the house when he refused to go. But Richard was getting set to leave, anyway.”
“Hmm. And he was what, eighteen, when it happened?”
Amanda nods.
“How long ago was that?”
Amanda blows out her cheeks. “Um, it must have been seven, eight years ago now.” She seems surprised by the number. “Wow. I’ve known him for almost a decade. Sure doesn’t feel that long.”
I feel another spike of jealousy in my stomach. I’d only been eleven or twelve when Amanda first met Rich. They had a history together. He and I, on the other hand, had… What? A single night of passion followed by the worst kind of adventure possible? Knowing what I do now about the circumstances of that night, I can’t even be sure he was ever attracted to me. He just chose me because I looked like his sister.
I’m being stupid, I know. Yet a tiny part of me held out hope that maybe the reason Rich came back to rescue me was that somewhere deep inside, he felt something for me.
I shake my head in disgust. It’s a vain hope. And totally misplaced. Rich hasn’t shown any interest in me since. We’ve already spent two nights under the same roof. He’d just felt guilty about leaving me, that’s all. I’m sure the same thing would have happened with any other girl he picked out to fool Tam and Victor.
“He has a sister, too, you know,” Amanda announces without warning. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you don’t. He doesn’t talk about her. Ever. But, the way you look just now…” Amanda laughs. “It’s kind of silly, but I swear to God, you remind of a picture I saw of her once.” She narrows her eyes. “It’s uncanny, really, now that I think about it. The resemblance between you two. Of course, she was younger than you in the picture, and her hair was longer…” Amanda trails off in thought. “It’s a wonder I only saw it now.”
Something Amanda said caught my ear. “Rich doesn’t talk about his sister? Why?”
“He blames himself for not being able to take her with him when he left New York. She’d been too young to understand the truth about their father. Richard didn’t want her to grow up in the same environment he did, but couldn’t just pick her up and go, either. She was still his father’s daughter, and underage besides. That would have been kidnapping.”
“Has he talked to her since leaving?” I prod carefully.
“I think not. When I met him, he always said he’d get in touch with her when she was older. Who knows?” Amanda looks back at the clock and grimaces. “And now,” she announces, “you’ve officially made me late for work.”
“Sorry,” I say. “And thanks for the breakfast.”
“Sure. Just clean up after yourself, will you? I hate coming home to a dirty kitchen. Oh! Don’t give any scraps to Mel, either. She’ll beg and whimper, but they’re bad for her.”
“Sure thing.” I feel a little guilty for the pieces of food I’ve been sneaking under the table to the retriever this whole time. “Amanda? Before you go, can I ask you something?”
“Make it quick,” she says, shrugging into a jacket she’d left on the counter.
I take a deep breath. “It’s about Rich. You don’t… still love him do you?”
My question catches her off guard. She freezes in the motion of pulling the jacket over her arms.
“No,” she says finally. “No, of course not.” She laughs, but it has an uneasy edge to it. “Why?” Her eyes suddenly become hard. “Do I give off that impression?”
“No, no,” I retreat. “Definitely not. I was just making sure, that’s all.”
“Well, that’s a rude, stupid question to ask,” she grumbles. “Forget what I said about cleaning up. Just… don’t touch anything while I’m gone, okay?”
Before I have a chance to answer, she storms out of the kitchen. I hear the front door slam a few moments later.
Mel whimpers and looks up at me. I scratch her neck. “What a mess,” I whisper to her.
Despite Amanda’s denial, I can tell I struck a nerve. I know she definit
ely has feelings for Rich.
Chapter Eleven
I hear Rich’s truck in the driveway only a few minutes after Amanda leaves. The front door opens just as I round the corner to it. A wet, dripping Rich stomps in.
“God,” he complains. “It’s a shit storm out there.” He shakes off his soaked jacket and throws it to the floor. Then he notices me.
I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but his eyes seem to light up when they land on me. “Look who finally decided to wake up! We missed you at breakfast.”
I smile. “So I heard.”
“Was Amanda still here when you woke? Good. I was afraid you’d get up and freak out with both of us gone. I wrote you a note—” Rich gives a sheepish grin, “—but I forgot it in my pocket when I left.”
“Did you, now?” I ask, curious. “Let me see.”
Rich hesitates, and then pulls out a crumpled, yellow Post-It from his jeans. The paper is soaked through. He hands it to me. I flatten it against my leg, then try to read it. The black ink has run.
“‘Penny,’” I start, struggling to make out the letters, “‘I had to leave early but will be back. Rich.’” I perk an eyebrow at him. “Very poetic.”
Rich snatches it from my hand. “Don’t make fun! I’m not one for long-winded letters.”
“Clearly,” I say, following him into the house. Mel runs up to us and barks happily. I kneel down and rub her belly.
Rich raises an eyebrow. “You’re friends with the dog now?”
I give him a significant look. “Her name is Mel. And yes. She and I have taken a liking to each other.”
“Quite the opposite of you and Amanda, huh?”
“Actually, Amanda and I are getting along, too. We talked for a long time last night after you fell asleep.”
Rich looks surprised. “You did? She didn’t mention that to me. Does that mean I won’t have to worry about leaving you two together anymore?”
“I think I can manage,” I say. “Besides, if anything goes wrong, I’ve got Mel as backup.”
“I don’t know if you want to test a dog’s loyalty to her owner,” Rich muses. “But I trust you’ve got enough sense for that.”
