by Askew, Kim
“Well,” I countered tactfully, “alcohol is probably a factor.”
“That’s why I don’t serve minors.”
“Oh riiigght.” I assumed he was being facetious.
“I figure I can keep the lot of you safe if you think you’re drinking here.”
“If we think?”
“I wouldn’t risk my liquor license and everything I’ve worked thirty years for to help a bunch of adolescents get sauced.”
“But I thought….”
“Of course you did. And so does everyone else. In the medical profession, you might call it the ‘placebo effect.’ Apparently all you young geniuses who have the computer so figured out can’t tell the difference between whisky and almond syrup.”
“Almond syrup? That’s what you spike the drinks with?’” I felt a smile inch across my face.
“Tastes just unusual enough to convince you that your Cokes have been turned into cocktails.”
“Oh, brother.” Craig had finally joined the conversation. He was propped up on his elbows now, his hair still damp with soda. “I’ve left here some nights thinking I was bombed out of my mind. Are you for real?”
“It was all in your noggin,” Easy said, knocking his own knuckles against his salt-and-pepper scalp. “Let’s just say I’ve earned a pretty good profit margin off almond sodas in my day. But let’s keep this all our little secret.”
Secret-keepers? He had picked two of the best. Craig was drinking from a tumbler of water that a waitress had handed him when I glanced around the deserted bar, wondering how we were supposed to get home. I was about to ask Easy to call us a cab when the front door of the establishment burst open. In strode Craig’s barrel-chested dad, wearing khaki pants and a red-and-black flannel hunting jacket. With his silver hair and chiseled features, he looked distinguished, but also jerky. His face made it clear this was not a pleasure call.
“Dad!” Craig said, practically gasping.
“Here you are. Why are you hanging out in a bar, alone, at two o’clock in the morning? And what’s with your face?” Easy glanced up from drying his glasses but said nothing.
“Dad, it was after prom. Everyone just left. We were just about to head home ourselves, but I knocked my head — ”
“WE??” Mr. MacKenzie snorted cynically and glanced at me. “And who is WE?”
“This is Skye. She’s a friend, Dad. I’ve told you about her before.”
“I don’t want to hear about your little friend. What I want to know is why your girlfriend turned up on my doorstep bawling her eyes out about an hour ago.”
“I tried to find her! She took off in the limo and I figured she was pissed off at me — ”
“What kind of jerk-off abandons his prom date in the middle of the night? Is that the kind of man I raised you to be? While your mother and I were trying to talk that pretty little girl of yours down off a ledge, you were out here making moves on some other unsuspecting young hussy?”
“Dad. STOP.”
“You’re coming home. NOW. Get in the goddamned car.”
“I can’t leave Skye here.”
“You left another girl tonight … you can do it again. Now get in the car before I kick your ass six ways to Sunday.”
“Skye….” Craig looked at me, pleadingly and apologetic.
“I can take a cab. It’s fine. Really.”
“I’ll call you.” He followed his dad, dejectedly, out the front door. I heard the sound of a truck engine rev and the tires squealed as they careened out of the parking lot. The two exhausted-looking waitresses gave their boss pecks on the cheek before slinging purses over their shoulders and heading out the rear exit. Easy glanced at me sympathetically.
“Looks like you could use a real drink.”
“Nah….” I sighed, but I took a seat at one of the bar stools anyway. Elbows on the bar, my chin in my hands, I looked at him glumly as he emptied out the cash drawer on the register and began separating the bills into piles.
“Craig’s a good kid,” he said offhandedly. I muttered my assent. “His dad comes in here every now and then. Bit of a hardass, that one.” I nodded again. “But he brags about his kid every time he’s in here. Can’t get the man to shut up.”
I found that seriously hard to believe, which Easy must have judged from my facial expression because he changed the subject.
“So, how was the ball, Cinderella?”
“Okay … but I think my carriage has officially turned back into a pumpkin. Speaking of, would you mind calling me a taxi?”
“My pleasure.” While Easy was on the phone with a cab company, I checked myself out in the mirrored wall behind the shelves of liquor. Margot and my mom had done a good job. My makeup was surprisingly still mostly in place and the curls in my hair hadn’t completely collapsed yet.
Easy turned back around, stuffing his stack of bills into a leather envelope.
“You got enough cash to pay the driver?” he asked, paternally.
“Yeah.” I patted my satin clutch purse. He continued fussing around with accoutrements behind the bar before circling his way back to me.
“So … if you were here with the MacKenzie boy, then what’s this about him having a girlfriend? Is that the bossy little blonde I’ve seen him with?”
“Yeah, that is she. It’s a long story.”
“Well now, I’m staying put here till your cab comes, so enlighten me.”
“I get the sense things are over between them as of tonight. It was long overdue. The problem is, she’s always had it out for me, and now that Craig and I are together….”
“Let me guess: ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”
“Bingo.”
“Aww, I wouldn’t pay her too much mind. Seems to me that girl is a good two feet shorter than you. I think you could take her.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that!” I laughed nervously. “I mean, jeez!”
“I never underestimate the petty squabbles of the so-called weaker sex. Some of the catfights we’ve had in here could rival the medieval berserkers. Guys can be belligerent, but women? They can be downright evil.”
“Uh, you’re not making me feel any better.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Easy continued cleaning up behind the bar as I sat with my chin in my hand, wondering what Beth would say to me Monday at school. Eventually, my cell started to vibrate in my clutch, so I reached to grab it just as the telephone behind the bar started to ring. I glanced at a text message from Craig.
Skye. Soooo sorry. Meet me at Regent asap … will explain l8ter.
“Your cab’s here,” Easy announced.
“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “Craig just texted. Sounds like he’s okay.”
“That was fast,” Easy said. “His dad must have been burning rubber.”
“He might have texted from the car.”
“Oh … you’re probably right. You kids and your infernal cell phones.”
“Thanks for everything. I’ll see you around.”
“Ten-four, doll.” When I slid in the back seat of the taxi, my heart was racing again. I instructed the cabbie to drive me to the Regent Theater, wondering how and why Craig would want to meet up with me there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Is This a Dagger Which I See Before Me?
“YOU SURE YOU WANT TO BE DROPPED OFF HERE, GIRLIE?” I handed the grizzled cabbie a tenner and hopped out onto the still-wet, abandoned street. “It’s getting late,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m meeting someone.”
“If you say so.” He shrugged.
I still hadn’t gotten the knack of wearing heels and had to catch my balance as I leapt over a puddle and onto the sidewalk. It was well after two a.m. when the yellow cab pulled away from the curb, so I was surprised to see the bright pink neon of the Regent sign reflected in the pavement. It usually closed at midnight. I wished I’d brought along my camera. The empty street and the theater would’ve made for a gorge
ous shot. They must be hosting a special midnight showing, I mused. If so, why did Craig want me to meet him here? Though I guess if we had a place that was “ours,” this was it. Was it his way of attempting a symbolic fresh start at the place where it had all begun? I pulled my wrap closer around me. It was a romantic idea, but a little late to be continuing where we’d left off in the hotel basement earlier that night. Just thinking about it made my heart thump wildly in my chest.
I walked over to the glass door and peered inside. All the lights were on, but I didn’t see anyone working at the counter. Maybe they’d simply forgotten to turn the sign off? I pulled at the door, half expecting it not to open, but it did, and so I walked into the brightly lit but quiet lobby.
“Craig,” I said, my voice echoing back as if from the bottom of a well. The doors leading into the screening room were closed, but I could hear the sound of a movie playing inside, so I slipped in quietly and shut the door carefully behind me so as not to disturb the other filmgoers. Up on the screen, I recognized the face of James Dean. I’d never seen this film, but based on the iconic red jacket and white T-shirt he wore, I figured it must be the teen tragedy, Rebel Without a Cause.
I peered into the darkened theater and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There didn’t seem to be anyone here, but then I had the strange sensation that I wasn’t alone … someone was standing very close to me in the dark. I knew instinctively that it wasn’t Craig, and I took a step back and reached my hand out, feeling for the door behind me. “Who’s there?” I asked.
“Wait,” said an assertive female voice from the dark. “Don’t leave.” Thank god; it was only Beth. Wow, I thought. Her uncle is making her clean the place on prom night? That’s harsh. But then another thought occurred to me: How awkward would this be once Craig showed up to meet me? Granted, he would need to have it out with her at some point, but tonight didn’t seem like the most opportune moment to let her know she was officially being replaced by yours truly. Easy was right: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and when that woman was Beth Morgan, look out. Maybe if I thought quickly, I could head him off before they ran into each other. But how was I supposed to explain to her what I was doing here in the first place?
As Beth drew closer I realized she was still wearing her prom dress, though it was ripped at the bottom, and Craig’s tuxedo jacket was draped around her thin shoulders. Of course! It hadn’t occurred to us that Beth might have taken the coat with her when she left the dance like a bat out of hell. Her face was streaked with tears and makeup and glowed pale and ghostlike from the dark. With her black gown blending in with the dark of the theater, her head — still topped with the garish crown — looked eerily unattached to her body. On-screen, James Dean’s character was crying to his parents: “We’re all involved, Mom! A boy was killed! I don’t see how we can get out of that by pretending it didn’t happen!”
“Beth! I didn’t realize you’d be — ”
“Don’t talk. You’ve done quite enough already tonight, as it is.” She reached up to her head and pulled off the tiara. Part of her blonde hair snagged on the plastic comb, forcing her to wrench it off her head violently.
“May as well give this to you, too,” she said. “You’ve taken everything else from me, after all.”
“I’m not sure what you — ”
“I said, DON’T TALK!” she screamed. Her eyes could have burned holes through my skull the way she was looking at me. She grabbed my hand forcefully and pulled me along behind her toward the movie screen. Her hand felt cold and clammy against mine and I fought the urge to pull away, knowing it would only anger her even more. My skin crawled with something akin to instinctual fear, but I pushed it down. Beth could be intimidating, but she wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.
Standing by the second row of seats, Beth now pointed to the seat closest to us. Draped over it was her prized cheerleading jacket. “You saw it, didn’t you?” she said. “You know it’s there.” I knew she was talking about the spot on the jacket. This was getting weirder by the minute. On-screen, the actors’ faces looked ten-feet high and were, from this angle, eerily distorted. “The blood.” She was almost hissing now. “You see it, too! I know you do.”
“Beth, what’s going on?” I asked, trying to remain calm. I was relieved when she let go of my hand and I quickly folded my arms against my chest. Alone with Beth in a darkened movie theater, the last thing I wanted to talk about was the damning speck of blood on her jacket. Just thinking about Beth’s role in Duncan’s death made my own blood boil, but I feigned ignorance.
“You know exactly what’s going on,” she said, ignoring my dumbfounded stares. “You’ve had it out for me from the beginning.”
“But I didn’t!”
“Right. This is all because of you. You loathed me for taking Craig away from you, and you wanted payback. You were going to steal Craig back from me.”
“What?!”
“I knew it. I knew it by the way he looked at you, by the way he talked about you … and Duff and Duncan didn’t want me, either. No one wanted me.” She broke down into heart-wrenching sobs and I couldn’t help but feel pity for her. She was obviously still having some psychological issues.
“Beth, it’s okay,” I said, reaching over to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, jerking her arm away. She pointed again at the cheerleading jacket. “This is your fault. I never would’ve went for Duncan if I hadn’t thought Craig would leave me. I had to take drastic measures.”
“So it’s true?” I asked, trying to keep my voice ambivalent. “You made a pass at Duncan?”
“So what?” she said. “Craig was cheating on me … if not physically, at least mentally.”
“Craig never cheated on you,” I said. Still, Craig’s acceptance speech earlier tonight was proof enough, in Beth’s mind, that she was right all along. I couldn’t exactly deny that — nor did I want to, if truth be told. But it was no crime.
“It’s all your fault,” she repeated again. “You made me do it.”
“But — I don’t understand.”
“Once I saw the way Craig was looking at you at the party that night, I knew I was losing him. I had to give him a reason not to leave me.”
“How can you blame me?” I was almost shouting. “You’re the reason Duncan didn’t survive. Why didn’t you let someone know what happened right away? Why did you make Craig promise not to tell anyone?”
“You knew all along.” Her eyes narrowed into ferocious slits. “Were you spying on us? Or let me guess: your little Craigiepoo made you a heartfelt confession? How much did he tell you?”
“Craig didn’t tell me anything.”
“Yeah, well he doesn’t have to live with what I have to live with. I’m the one who — ” she stopped herself. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?!” I said. “If you’d been honest that night, someone could have gotten to Duncan. He was still — ”
“Alive? Craig and I both saw him go in that icy water. There was no way we could have known he’d somehow manage to pull himself out. He was as good as dead when we left him.”
“And it was your idea not to tell anyone. I heard everything when you were standing by the Jeep that night.”
“It was the only way.”
“No. I’m … I’m going to go get help,” I said, my teeth chattering as if I were there in the snow that dark night with Duncan. Just as I started to turn away, I froze. In her right hand, which peeked from beneath Craig’s jacket, something shimmered. She turned toward me and I registered instantly the steel blade of the knife in her hand.
“Beth, don’t,” I begged as I backed away, holding my hands in front of me. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“If anyone is to blame for Duncan’s death, it’s you,” she said, inching closer. “I wouldn’t have had to lie to Craig. He and Duncan wouldn’t have fought. Duncan wouldn’t have fallen through the ice.”
She looked like a zombie. And what did she mean by “I wouldn’t have had to lie to Craig?” Was she talking about lying to the police?
I stumbled over myself as I tried to back away from her. These damn heels! She grabbed my arm. I could barely tear my eyes from the glint of the knife in her other hand. When I looked up, Beth’s stare was almost vacant.
“Beth, you don’t want to do this,” I said, sobs choking my words. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone. Please. Don’t!” I closed my eyes and tried to brace for the impending pain as she raised her arm over her head. I imagined her lunging toward me, and the next thing I knew I’d fallen to the ground, my head hitting the concrete floor. Lights blinded me and I shut my eyelids tight, afraid to open them. I could hear Beth’s rasping sobs. And then I heard another voice.
“Skye! Are you okay?” I opened my eyes and saw Craig kneeling next to me, frantic. Easy had both of his burly arms wrapped around Beth, and the knife was about two feet away on the floor. Beth was squirming against Easy’s grasp. I tried to sit up but I felt too dizzy and swooned against Craig. When I could open my eyes again, I glanced back at Easy. Beth now looked like an exhausted, limp ragdoll in his arms. She was weeping incessantly and her speech was incoherent.
“Is she okay?” I asked him, putting my hand up to touch the knot on my head. “What are you two doing here?”
“Ray, your cabbie, swung back by the Hurlyburly,” Easy answered. “Said he’d dropped you here, and thought it seemed fishy. Then Craig called me from home wondering if he’d left his phone at the bar. Realized he couldn’t have sent you that message.”
“So, who…?” I trailed off, realizing it must have been Beth who’d texted me, pretending to be Craig. “I thought she was you.”
“I left my phone in the pocket of my tux coat,” Craig said, stroking my forehead lightly. “I bolted over here as soon as I got off the phone with Easy.”
“Even though I told you to sit tight and let me handle the situation,” Easy said, grumbling.
“Now what do we do?” Craig looked at Easy for help, indicating Beth with a nod of his head.
