by Brenda Novak
Lauren winced at that entry. It was one thing to know what her sister had thought of her and another to see it so baldly stated. But Lauren was more concerned with the underlying problem that had always come between them. Audra was jealous of Lauren’s relationship with their father. It was obvious and, yet, Lauren found Audra’s jealousy ironic considering the fact that Lauren hadn’t possessed the looks or the popularity Audra seemed to prize so highly.
December 23, 1991
Harley made love to me tonight for the first time. After everything I’ve heard about him, I was pretty surprised it took him so long to get around to it. He wasn’t a virgin or anything. He said the thirty-year-old woman across the street came on to him when he was only fifteen. But he moved very slowly with me. I think he wanted it to mean something, but I’m not sure how I feel about him. He’s certainly different from any other boy I’ve known. And he’s damned good in bed. I can’t get enough of him. If every guy could screw like him, I’d stay on my back all day. Too bad Daddy doesn’t know I’m banging the boy he met at the Scofield picnic….
December 28, 1991
Harley gave me a motorcycle helmet for Christmas with my name on it. I guess that’s the same as a ring to him. I wasn’t too thrilled with it until Daddy saw it and got really pissed off. Then it was the best present I’ve ever received. I gave Harley five hundred bucks to buy parts for his engine. He acted offended that I’d give him so much money and wouldn’t take it even after I told him he’d be doing me a favor, that I was trying to spend as much of Daddy’s money as possible. He said he didn’t want anything from my father. Isn’t that hilarious? Daddy thinks Harley’s a gold digger, and Harley won’t even accept my Christmas present!
January 21, 1992
I’m so mad at Harley. I went over there tonight with some of the best crack I’ve had in a long time, stuff I had to go clear across town to get, and he flushed it down the damned toilet! I don’t know why he’s so uptight about me getting high once in a while, but he’s starting to treat me like he’s my dad or something. He even threatened to break up if I didn’t get my shit together. Maybe all guys are alike, little clones of the great Quentin, thinking they know what’s best for everyone else….
February 14, 1992
I let Harley make love to me today, then told him I’d skipped my birth control pill. Loved the look of panic on his face. I swear I laughed for nearly an hour, but he was a typical jerk and got angry. “That’s not funny,” he said. So I had to tell him I was only joking. The joke’s on him, though. A girl’s got a right to do something exciting on Valentine’s Day. I’m sure Lauren had fun. She went out with Daddy and Mommy again. The three of them go out for Valentine’s every year because Mom and Dad know Lauren will never be able to get a real date….
Lauren put a hand to her stomach, which was starting to churn. Her sister’s words were personally painful, but they were disappointing in other ways, too. It seemed that Audra had slept with Harley merely to punish their father. Where were her sister’s emotions in the relationship? Other than the physical pleasure Harley brought her, she didn’t make their intimacy sound very special. On the contrary, she’d obviously felt the need to add greater risk to the situation to make it more stimulating.
“Audra,” she whispered. “Why were you willing to settle for such a poor substitute for real happiness?”
March 4, 1992
Daddy caught Harley and me in my room together a few minutes ago. Harley didn’t want to come up here. Guys can be so weird. But he doesn’t like my dad any more than I do, and when I told him we’d just had another fight, he came anyway, saying he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me. What I really wanted was to let him screw my brains out right here in my own bed with my parents just down the hall and innocent little Lauren studying her heart out in the room next door. Only Harley wouldn’t even let me unzip his pants. I took off my top and everything, and he just kept shoving my shirt at me, telling me to put it back on. He can be so stubborn sometimes. “Not here,” he kept saying, “no way.” I guess I’m kind of glad now, because my dad opened the door right afterward to tell me good night, and when he saw me without my shirt and Harley standing right next to me, he came unglued. I swear I’ve never seen him get so red in the face. He told me if I ever see Harley again, I’ll be cut off from the family. Like I’m not already cut off from this family. Harley was trying to stick up for me, though. He told my dad he loved me and planned to make something of his life, as if that would make a difference to my father. Daddy doesn’t care about love. Probably because he doesn’t believe anyone can love me. The only person he really cares about is Lauren. Little Miss Goody Two-shoes, who wouldn’t know what to do if a guy ever touched her—
Lauren covered her mouth with her hand and closed the journal. She couldn’t read any more. What Audra wrote might be her version of reality ten years ago, but it wasn’t pretty. And Lauren had had more than enough for one night.
She glanced at the phone, wanting to call someone with whom she could share the burden of what she was feeling, hoping it would dispel some of the terrible pain in her heart. Audra had purposely messed up her life, over and over again, and for what? To prove that she could? To prove herself unworthy of her family’s love? Lauren hadn’t majored in psychology. She couldn’t explain the motivations behind her sister’s self-destructive behavior. But she didn’t need an expert to tell her it was a gut-wrenching, unnecessary loss.
If only…
She eyed the phone again. It was nearly midnight. Who could she call? Damien wouldn’t mind, but she didn’t want to talk to him. What she was going through was too personal, too painful to share with someone she didn’t love. She could call her father—except that, at this moment, she almost blamed him for what had happened to Audra more than she blamed her sister. He should’ve backed off somehow, convinced her she was loved.
But how? Lauren hadn’t been able to manage that, either, and hated the helplessness it had always engendered.
Kimberly. Kimberly would understand. She always did, but since her divorce, she was living with her parents again, and the phone would probably wake them. Besides, the person she most wanted to call was Harley.
Picking up the phone, she dialed Tank’s number, then held her breath, wondering whether or not she’d have the nerve to say anything if someone answered.
“Hello?” It was him. Lauren immediately recognized his deep voice, but for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She kept picturing him trying to stand up to their father back in 1992 as a tall but scrappy and spirited youth. “I love her, dammit,” he’d cried and Quentin had shouted back at him, “You rotten little son of a bitch. You don’t know anything about love. Who the hell do you think you are, sneaking in here? What are you trying to do? Get in my daughter’s pants? You think I want the likes of you for a son-in-law? You stay the hell away from her, you hear? I don’t want you within twenty feet of her!”
Lauren cringed. Was that really eleven years ago? It seemed like only yesterday.
“Hello?” Harley said again.
Lauren opened her mouth and managed to draw a small breath of air. I’m sorry, her mind whispered, I’m sorry. But the words hadn’t reached her tongue before Harley hung up. And she couldn’t have explained why she felt like she owed him an apology, anyway.
SO THIS IS WHERE the kids from Hillside Estates go to school these days. K to 8, huh?
Harley pulled his rental car to the side of the road at the far corner of the schoolyard and watched Lauren’s late-model Lexus continue down the street several cars ahead. Because he didn’t know what time Brandon started school, he’d had to sit outside the gates of Hillside Estates for over an hour before she’d appeared this morning, but it turned out to be quite fortunate that he’d gotten an early start. She’d been alone when she left. That had puzzled him at first, but then he’d followed her to another neighborhood of expensive homes where she’d picked up a young boy. And though he’d been too far away to get a good look at the b
oy’s face, Harley knew it had to be his son. Especially when the friend who’d visited Tank’s apartment with Lauren yesterday came out in her robe and walked them to the car. Did Kim have a child Brandon’s age for him to play with? Or was Brandon staying with her for other reasons?
At least now he knew where Brandon probably was the night Lauren had stood him up and come home alone. And, if he had his guess, he knew where Brandon was going to be staying for the next few days….
“Nice try, Lauren,” he murmured, “but a wasted effort at this point.”
Her Lexus turned into the school’s circular drive, crawling along because of the number of other cars, and she let Brandon out at the front steps. Harley instantly lost sight of him because of the crush, but only moments later picked out his red backpack and watched as he met up with a couple of friends and moved onto the playground.
Lauren exited the lot and headed straight toward where Harley was parked, and Harley ducked so she wouldn’t see him. When he sat up again, he caught her taillights in his rearview mirror. She turned at the stop sign and was gone. Then it was just him and his son, who was only about fifty yards away.
Brandon…Harley had told himself he’d follow Lauren, catch a glimpse of his boy and drive away. But his heart was pounding so hard he could scarcely breathe. He knew he couldn’t leave now if his life depended on it. He had to get closer. He might run the risk of looking like some perverted stalker skulking around the school grounds, but he had to get a better glimpse of his own flesh and blood.
Taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow his racing pulse, Harley got out and walked beside the chain-link fence that separated him from Brandon. His son was setting his backpack on the ground and getting involved in a soccer game.
Harley stopped as he drew even with him and casually leaned against the fence as though he belonged there—as though he was waiting for someone or making sure a child got to school safely—and watched as Brandon began to chase the ball.
His kid was tall. Brandon stood an inch or two above most of the other boys his age. And he had dark hair, like Harley’s. Harley could definitely see a hint of Audra in his face, especially around the mouth, but his thin build and carriage were reminiscent of pictures Harley had seen of himself at a similar age.
A woman walked by holding the hand of a little girl with at least four purple bows in her hair, and eyed him suspiciously. He supposed he didn’t blend in very well despite his nonchalance, not at a private school where most of the children’s fathers wore Armani suits and drove Mercedes to work. But at this point he was having a tough time caring what anyone thought. Brandon was so close. Harley wanted to watch him all day, to memorize every line of his face and listen to his laughter—
“Excuse me.”
Harley turned impatiently to the woman who’d just passed him.
“Yes?”
Her eyes flicked over his jacket, jeans and boots. “I don’t recognize you. Do you have a child who goes to school here?”
“I do,” he said.
This seemed to surprise her, which was no more than Harley had expected. “And that child’s name is…”
“None of your business,” he finished frankly.
Her eyes widened and her lips pursed, then she gripped her Gucci bag closer to her body and dragged her child down to the corner, where she threw him another reproachful glance before continuing at light-speed toward the school.
Harley knew he should go. With all the dangers children faced these days, he couldn’t really blame the busybody for being protective, but neither could he force his feet to carry him back to his car.
Just another minute or two…
Brandon had the ball and was running toward him, closer and closer. Harley could see the sweat running down from his hairline and was caught by the intensity on his face.
Look up, he thought, look at me. He didn’t want to upset Brandon or bother him in any way, but at the same time, he longed for eye contact, for…something.
But Brandon was too intent on the game. He tried to kick the ball past the goalie, only to have it deflected. Then someone from the other team started moving it in the opposite direction. The ball changed hands several times, but then Brandon’s team scored a point, which brought him close to the fence again.
“That was awesome! Way to go, Scott,” Brandon called, cheering the boy who’d managed to slip the ball past the goalie.
Harley smiled at the camaraderie, completely enamored with his son, but then the boys ran back the other way and a man wearing a tweed sport coat came out of the huge red brick school and interrupted their game. When he pointed at Harley, everyone turned and Harley started hedging away. Evidently, his time was up. He was making people uncomfortable; he needed to move on.
But, man, it had been great to see his son!
Grinning like a boy himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets and strode to his car. And he was still wearing that same silly grin as he drove off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“HAVE ANY OF YOU seen that man before?” Mr. Haggerty asked.
Brandon shaded his eyes and watched a guy in a black leather coat get into a white car and drive away. His English teacher’s question followed the two he’d already posed: “Who is that man?” and “Did he say anything to any of you?” But it received a similar response.
“I don’t think so.”
“Who?”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“Me, neither.”
“No one knows who he is or what he was doing here?” Mr. Haggerty pressed.
“Why? Do you think he’s a drug dealer or something?” Johnny Lindstrom wanted to know.
“I have no idea,” Mr. Haggerty replied, “but he sure seemed to be taking an interest in your game.”
“He never said anything to us.”
The bell sounded and everyone scrambled to line up at the front entrance, everyone except the soccer players. They hesitated, wondering if the mysterious man was significant in some way, but Mr. Haggerty waved them on. “Go ahead, boys. There’s no need to be late. He’s gone now. But I want to be informed if he comes back, okay? Especially if he tries to approach any of you.”
“Why?” Travis Peltier asked.
“Because we have to be careful of strangers.”
“Maybe he’s not a stranger. Maybe he used to go here,” Travis said.
“I sincerely doubt that,” Mr. Haggerty replied.
Sean Covey made a disbelieving face. “I don’t think so, either. He looked too cool. Did you see his jacket? I bet he has a tattoo. He probably has lots of tattoos.”
“Just remember that we don’t talk to anyone we don’t know regardless of how ‘cool’ we think they look,” Mr. Haggerty said. “There are some very dangerous people out there.”
“My mother told me about this guy who planted a bomb at Southside School,” the boy next to Brandon told the boy standing on his other side. “He ended up shooting himself, brains all over the mirror and everything. And then they didn’t know where the bomb was. But they sent in a bomb squad, and one guy found it under the bleachers in the gym.”
“That only happens at public schools,” Theo, the other boy responded, but Brandon wasn’t really paying attention to the conversations that had started buzzing around him. He was still picturing the man by the fence.
“What do you think that was all about?” he asked Scott as they hurried to the back of the line.
Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see that guy until Mr. Haggerty pointed him out, did you?”
“No.” Brandon had been too wrapped up in the soccer game to notice anything else. But when he’d seen the man standing there, watching them, he’d felt sort of singled out even though he couldn’t explain why.
He kicked a small rock and focused on the way it skittered across the pavement while the other children’s voices droned in his ears. Singled out. How dumb. Why would a complete stranger be any more interested in him than in the oth
er boys? Maybe he was imagining it. The odd tingle that had zipped down his spine was probably just more of the weird feelings he’d been having about all the stuff going on at home. His grandparents were still gone, Aunt Lauren was acting strange and Kim was whispering about him when she talked on the phone. People used to whisper in his presence all the time, when his mother was alive. They thought he didn’t know about the pipes she was always trying to hide, but he’d been good at finding them, much better than anyone else. She used to get so angry with him for throwing them away, but he hated the stuff she smoked with them, hated what it did to her. And sometimes he hated her. Once he found a baggie in her purse while they were driving in the car and he’d tossed it out the window. She’d slapped him then, but he’d never given up trying to save her. That was probably what made him the angriest of all. No matter how hard he tried, she always managed to get more, to hide it in better and better places, to smoke it with those pipes.
But that was what people used to whisper about. The grayish rocklike stuff and what it was doing to his mother. The whispering wasn’t so bad when he understood the reason behind it. He would simply act as if he hadn’t heard it. But these new secrets really bothered him. There wasn’t anything to whisper about now. Was there?
“LAUREN? Where are you? I thought I could catch you before you left to take Brandon to school. This is your father. Your mother and I are wondering what’s going on and why you haven’t called us. Are you okay? Let us hear from you. We’re planning to visit the Tower of London today, but we’ll wait till you call.” Click. Beep.
Lauren hit the erase button on the answering machine and slumped down on the stool by the kitchen desk. She’d finished making her bed and straightening her room and getting showered and making a grocery list. She’d even placed a few calls on the fund-raiser and recruited Jennifer Pratt to help her, since she was so behind. But now it was time to talk to her parents and level with them about her thoughts. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Her father wouldn’t appreciate a dissenting opinion, especially where Harley was concerned, but she felt she owed it to Brandon to voice one. Especially after reading Audra’s journal last night. Her sister’s words painted a very vivid picture of the way Audra had behaved in high school, lending credence to Harley’s assertion that he didn’t exploit her or intentionally get her pregnant. It was Audra who’d been playing games, Audra who’d used Harley.
