by Gable, Kate
Neil shrugs and then says, "Fine."
I follow him to the garage after he briefly mentions to his mom that he’s taking me home.
“It can go thirty miles an hour," Neil assures me when I comment on how small the scooter is. He sits back and then motions for me to get behind him and to hold on. He hands me his mom’s biking helmet and I reluctantly put it on.
The tone of the evening has changed. It's no longer that fun. And I can't wait to get home. I know that now Natalie’s going to ask me if I had made a move on him, and I’m undecided as to what to say. I could say that I did and he turned me down or perhaps not mention anything at all.
We drive past the tall pines, down the curving boulevard. I yell the directions into his ear, but at the last road, right past Big Bear Village, he turns left.
"No, not here," I say, but he continues on. I pinch his side, pushing hard to get through the layers of clothing. He turns his head and snaps, "I know what I'm doing."
We drive through the village and he pulls over and parks the scooter next to a large chain sawed bear at the corner.
"What are you doing? I'm still like ten minutes away from here."
"I know.” He smiles. "Let's do something, let's go to dinner."
"No, I want to go home."
"Look, I know you didn't want to be in the house with my parents, so we left, but let's do something else."
I shake my head no, again.
"You either take me home or I'm going to get an Uber or call my mom." "What if she's not there?"
He challenges me, narrowing his eyes. I don't get where he's going with all of this. It's like, he's threatening me, but not really.
"Will you come talk to me?" The expression on his face suddenly changes. He takes my hand, but I pull away.
"Talk to you about what?"
"Come with me, let's walk.” Neil motions and walks a little bit ahead. His jeans fit snugly on his legs.
He's wearing a hat and a jacket that's way too light for the weather. He pops the collar and zips it up, and then gives me a wink as he walks away.
It’s a cool guy wink that I find difficult to resist even now.
I follow him holding the phone firmly in my hand. I know that I can call Mom at any point, but I also know that it's going to come with the tough questions that I don't really want to provide answers to.
I've never taken an Uber before, but I guess I could. The best thing is to indulge him a little bit, so that he can give me a ride home.
"I'm sorry, I've been acting so weird," Neil says, and the vulnerability in his eyes is difficult to accept.
I shift my weight from one foot to another, and then look up at him. All pretense is gone, so is the cool guy bravado.
He just looks at me, like he did all those years ago when we were in elementary school together and were friends.
"I like you,” he says quietly.
We're still walking down the street, a few tourists weave their way around us. I drop the phone in the bottom of my coat pocket, letting go of it briefly.
"What do you mean by that?" I ask.
“What I said. I like you a lot and I've felt that way for a while."
"No.” I shake my head. "What about Natalie, your girlfriend?"
"What about her? Things are complicated. She likes to play games; she keeps testing me."
"What do you mean?" I feel the blood rush from my face.
"She tells me one thing and then another, she had a friend come on to me, to see if I would cheat on her. I don't want to be with someone like that.”
The maturity in his voice is disarming. I want to tell him that, that's exactly what I was going to do, but I keep it to myself. I'm embarrassed.
"I'm going to break up with her."
"You are?"
"Yeah," Neil says nonchalantly, his collar still popped high and forward, and he heads down the street. He even picks up his pace, so that I have to rush a little bit to stay close to him.
"Don't tell her, it's not working out. I know you're friends.”
"But you've been together for so long. Don't you want to give it another chance?"
"That's the problem, I've given her plenty of chances. We have nothing in common except that we're both popular, but that doesn't seem like enough anymore."
I notice how easily he talks about his feelings. There's a quiet confidence to it, it's difficult to pinpoint.
Neil laughs, and I ask him, "What's so funny?"
He points to the little blackbird on the end of a ledge, jumping up and down as if he is dancing.
Briefly there, I see the guy who was my friend all those years back, before our hormones and impending teenagerhood got in the way.
"What if I told you that I want you to go out with me?" Neil asks, turning on his heel and making me practically slam into him.
I take a step back, and he takes one step forward, keeping the distance between us the same.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
Neil leans down and kisses me.
"I see you, Violet," he whispers in my ear.
I don't know what he means by that.
Is he calling me on something? His lips feel soft, and confident, but mine are static, they remain in place. He kisses me again and then pulls away.
"I guess I shouldn't have done that," Neil says, reading my mind, except it's a lie. I want him to think that I don't want him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.
I take a step forward, and then he reaches for me again. This time I kiss him back. I kiss him just like I had practiced on my arm.
His lips respond, his mouth finds mine, our tongues touch. I feel his hands at the back of my neck, cradling me. I reach forward and wrap my arms around his back.
We kiss for a long time. He kisses my neck and I kiss his, our movements feverish like we're trying to solve an impossible problem and time is running out.
I like everything about him, his scent, his hands all over mine. Despite how nervous I feel, I feel safe at the same time.
A car drives by and honks, scaring me. I jump a little, and he pulls me closer. But when I pull away, the moment dissipates. And all that I'm left with is the regret that I feel for what just happened.
"Natalie is my friend," I say, "and your girlfriend. This isn't right."
The guilt washes over me.
"This is terrible." I feel my voice stammering. "I can't believe that I did this. It's such a lie, a violation."
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," I tell him.
My eyes flicker with anger as I glare at him.
How could he think that it's nothing?
I feel sick to my stomach, like I'm about to throw up. I bend in half and wrap my hands around my knees, trying to calm my breathing.
A cold gust of air comes through. Neil gets down next to me, putting his hand around my shoulder. I want to shrug it off, but it feels good.
"I shouldn't have let that happen," I say, leaning my head on one arm, and looking up at him.
He leans over and kisses the tip of my nose. I pull away.
”Natalie and I are friends, she trusted me."
"No, she didn't," he says. "The only reason you started talking to me was because she asked you to flirt with me, right?"
The blood drains from my face. I stand up unsteady on my feet.
"What are you talking about?"
"Casey Pasonski told me Natalie asked her to make a move on me. That's what she asked you to do, too, right?"
"I don't know where you're going with this," I say.
“I’m not mad about it. It was a good excuse to talk to you."
My whole body begins to shake uncontrollably.
"I know what she's up to and I'm sick of her games. I was going to break up with her today, but when you started chatting me up, I saw that as an opportunity."
"An opportunity, for what?" I cross my arms in front of me and hold on, tightly bracing myself.
"To talk
to you, to hang out. Remember how much fun we had in elementary school?"
Neil tilts his head and just as the last rays of sunshine and the light from the streetlight hits him just so, he looks exactly like he did as a kid in fourth grade, playing kickball.
I remember him holding the ball, yelling for me to get ready. It was my turn at the plate. He kicked it to me and I kicked it back, just slightly out of reach. I got to third base with little effort. He was the only one on the other team who cheered for me. We've been friends for a long time and then in sixth grade something happened.
"Why did we stop hanging out?” Neil asks. "I mean, we had such a good time, right? Up until middle school?"
I nod. How could he not remember? But then again, it wasn't a big thing, not at all.
"Nothing happened," I say, leaning on the railing in front of the condominiums. I look out at the melted snow up above, dark and white, and gray patches. Not at all bucolic or beautiful, the way the mountain towns are generally portrayed.
"All the elementary schools were funneled to the same middle school. And some kids flourished and became popular and others didn't. We started running in different social circles. There was you, Michael, Natalie, and Felicia. You all ruled the school, still do. And there wasn't a space for me in that."
"Of course there was."
"There definitely isn't now, and there wasn't then. I had a different circle of friends," I say. "Less fun."
He laughs.
"What about next year in high school? Who knows, maybe I'll be a freak,” Neil says.
”I highly doubt that, once you're popular and rich, then that's the only way."
He smiles at me, and then reaches over and takes my hand. His fingers are soft, warm, and strong when they intertwine with mine, giving me strength.
"Go out with me," Neil says quietly, looking out into the distance at the dark pines.
I turn the other direction toward the light near the condominiums. And just as I pull away from him, he pulls me close. I find myself in his arms and he kisses me again.
”Go out with me," he says in between the kisses.
The confidence is alluring, impossible to deny. It comes from some deep place that I doubt that I would ever be able to access in myself.
Is it money? Is it attractiveness? Is it just everyone is worshiping at your feet, for so long that it gives you that strong, cocky feeling? That's just impossible to resist.
"I wanted you to be there when you took those pictures with us and the videos in the basement. I was the one who told Natalie to invite you."
"But you kissed her and made out with her front of me," I say.
"I wanted it to be you," he whispers into my ear and then kisses my neck again.
Shivers run down my spine.
"What did you do with those files?" he asks.
"Nothing, I have them, if you want them they're yours."
"No, I don't care."
"But I'm sure Natalie will, I can give them to her."
He shrugs and kisses me again.
"Go out with me."
It's a command more than a request. I want to say no, but my mouth refuses to cooperate.
Instead, I kiss him harder and harder.
I never thought that my first kiss would last so long. It’s more of a make-out session than anything else.
Darkness wraps around us, but so does the light.
He holds me tightly and kisses me again and again until finally I whisper, "Yes. Okay, fine. I'll go out with you."
Chapter 29
I don't know what to make of my conversation with Marina Oakhurst, but I reach out to talk to the assistant DA, Catherine Harris, to try to apply for a warrant to search the boat. I relay everything that Marina told me, but also the confusing information that I have about their whereabouts and the possible transfer of the boat's title. We sit in her office, which is unusually messy and in disarray, as she's working on a case that's in the middle of a trial.
"Sorry to come at you like this, but I'm going to be going back up to Big Bear, and so I wanted to talk to you in person."
"Yeah, no worries."
Catherine moves the half-eaten Chinese food containers off her desk into a garbage bag and ties up the top.
"I can throw that out on my way out," I offer.
"It's fine. I'll do it," she says, distracted.
"What's wrong? What's going on?"
"I'm losing this case. This is going to be the first one in a while, and no one's going to be happy."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I don't know what's going to happen exactly, but it doesn't look good. The defense attorney's too charming, and I just feel like the jury doesn't really care for me."
"Does it matter that much when there's strong evidence?"
"You'd be surprised." I don't quite understand. I tilt my head, so she explains further.
"The evidence isn't quite as strong as I had hoped. We don't have a body, and so we have to convince the jury that this woman is actually dead. But who knows? The defense attorney's job is to put doubt in their minds, and he's killing it. He even brought out some witnesses from Montana and Wyoming that swear on the Bible and the Constitution and everything else that they saw her in person at two different bars."
"Could that be true?"
"No. Her husband killed her and buried her somewhere in the desert. Of course, I can't prove this just by a preponderance of evidence, life insurance, that kind of thing. But in cases like this, it often comes down to how likable the defense attorney is and how unlikable I am."
"I wouldn't say you're unlikable."
"A lot of people like strong women, but there's also a big group of the population that doesn't. I tried to pick the jury as best I could in my favor, but you just never know how people are going to actually feel, despite what they say on the questionnaire."
"What about the victim?" I ask.
"The victim traveled a lot for work, didn't want to have children, not exactly the type of missing person that the jury would care a lot about. The lawyer says that she could have run off with a boyfriend. Who's to say that they won't believe her?”
"Well, you and the evidence, right?” I say.
"Yeah. I guess. Listen, can we go to a bar? I just need a drink right now, but no more than one. If I ask you for another, you've got to make me go home, okay? I have court early tomorrow."
"Yes, of course."
We head over to The Red Rooster, a popular hangout not too far away from the station. It's actually popular with a variety of other office workers in the building, not cops, and I appreciate that.
I haven't gone out like this with Catherine before, but we've shared a few moments, talked about our private struggles with the same ex, Thomas Abrams, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I somewhat enjoy spending time with her.
Unlike Sydney, I don't feel like I owe her very much. There isn't this history between us. It's like meeting a new friend that you have something in common with.
I ask her more about her case, but she waves her hand as she orders herself a lavender martini, and I ask for a mint julep.
"Mint julep?" she asks, laughing.
"Well, I saw it on the menu and I thought, why not? Haven't had something so whimsical in a while."
"Are you in need of whimsy?" Catherine smiles, and I nod, telling her about my sudden backache and going over some of the details of the case.
We talk in a hushed tones, and when someone sits down next to me on the swivel stool, we move over to a booth.
She orders a plate of loaded fries, and at first I tell myself that I'm going to pass, but I can't help it. I reach for one and end up eating about half. I go over the case with the Islingtons, and she debates about whether she can even take it to the judge.
In order to get a warrant, she has to have enough compelling evidence to get him or her to say, "Yes, there's enough reason to actually search the boat."
"What about the apartment?" Catherine as
ks.
"I want to search that, too. They were in both places, but they sold the boat supposedly. I'm checking that out right now, running through it. I put in requests with the DMV and the Coast Guard to see if the paperwork is legit."
"What about the money?” she asks. "They paid full price, right?"
I nod.
"Well, the money should be deposited in a bank account."
"Yeah. They said it was, but ..."
"You have to check."
I nod.
"More warrants,” Catherine says.
I nod again.
"My hands are tied without them. I mean, I can only find out things that I can't legally have and that would be inadmissible,” I tell her the law as if she doesn’t know.
"Of course. Okay. Let me see what I can do. You send me all the details in the file, all the reports. I'll go through it. I'll present the best case I can. I'll see what judge is available and how keen they are to work with me. I'm kind of running out of favors at this point."
"This isn't really a favor. I mean, this is legit evidence."
"Except it's not, they could be on vacation,” Catherine says. “They’re a couple, retirement age, who have previously taken off to go to Mexico and are free to go wherever they want and not have to be in contact with anyone that they don't want to be in contact with, including their children."
"I know that," I say, hanging my head. "You're not telling me anything that I don't already know, but you should have seen their sons. It doesn't seem like they get along much or have much in common, but they were both very concerned. It's not like this couple. They were excited about their new granddaughter. That's why they were selling the boat. They were going to move back on land. They were going to help take care of her."
"I understand.” Catherine nods, taking a sip of her drink. I'm already done with mine.
"You're really taking your time," I say, nudging in her direction. "I'm about to order another."
"Well, I'm not going to. This is it for me, so I've got to make it last."
My head starts to feel a little woozy, and I know that it's not the best idea to have another, especially since my back is still not in completely working order. But then when the waitress comes around, I can't help myself. However, Catherine remains steadfast.
