Hawk

by Abigail Graham

  Backers?

  We've never worked like this before. There's something he's not telling me. I get the feeling we've been completely set up here- he wouldn't rent a house like this in his own name, and who was driving that car?

  I do wonder if Diana will be there. If it's an evening wear type event, she might be wearing something slinky and sexy that shows off those curves. For some reason picturing her in a black cocktail dress is more exciting than thinking about peeling that imaginary bathing suit off her.

  She looked younger in person. Innocent, somehow. I'm not used to that.

  Music wafts over, from the neighbor's yard. They're all outside, lit by the glow of those stinky candles that keep bugs away and paper lanterns and oil torches. A cookout, by the looks of it. A plump father, a homely mother in a long dress, two kids, a boy and a girl, and some extended family. I try not to stare but I write stories for all of them in my head. The other adults are aunts and uncles, grown cousins. There's laughter and happy words I can't hear.

  Reminds me of trips to New York. I always seem to find some time to walk the nicer parts of the city. You can't go too far without ending up outside a big picture window looking into a fancy restaurant, and there's always couples inside on dates. I stand there and watch them acting goofy in public and feeding each other and doing couple things, and wonder what that's like.

  I feel the same way now. I feel not like I'm on the outside looking in, but like I'm on the inside, and the whole world is moving on around me. When your life revolves around a trade built on secrecy and stealth, at the end of the day, no one knows who you are.

  Chapter 4: Diana

  When I wake up there's no note, no messages on my phone, no nothing. The Honda is in the garage and the house is empty, except for me.

  It takes me a long while to reach my conclusion.

  Last night, there was a small party hosted for donors to the museum foundation. Mom insisted on calling it a gathering. I don't think she acknowledges the existence of parties. If I was maybe two or three years younger I'd have been dragged along with her, forced into a demure dress and made to hang around all night like I had anything to talk about with a bunch of people twice my age.

  I usually ended up spending most of these things avoiding a couple of the donors that seemed way, way too interested in little ol' jailbait me. They could really skeeve me out. I never bothered telling Mom. She'd just get offended on their behalf. I just hid.

  Usually they were over by ten o'clock and we were back at the house by eleven. Usually.

  As I wander through the empty house, finding her bedroom as she left it before she walked over to the museum to meet and greet, I come to the inexorable, unavoidable, and completely absurd conclusion that my mother did not come home last night.

  Okay, I think I'm panicking.

  She doesn't answer her phone. I know, because I call her five times. It just rings through to her voice mail. On the sixth call I hear it buzzing away in her office, though I can't get the desk drawer open. She keeps it locked. That's when I give up and call Bob.

  He answers on the third ring.

  "Diana?"

  "Yeah, it's me," I pace through the house. "My mother didn't come home last night. Do you know where she is?"

  "No idea. She was leaving with one of the guests, last I saw her."

  "Who was she? The guest."

  "She? It was a man."

  "Wait, what? Are you telling me my mother left the party with a man and didn't come home all night?"

  "Technically, you're telling me."

  "Bob, this is serious. Where the hell is she?"

  "Call her."

  "I tried, you big lummox. That's why I'm calling you."

  He laughs at me.

  "She'll be fine. Trust me. Your mom knows what she's about. Listen, call me if you don't hear anything in an hour or so."

  I glance at the clock above her desk. It's almost one o'clock. I was up all night goofing around on the Internet. I assumed she'd just come home without bothering to inform me. She didn't say anything before leaving.

  That's when I hear a crunch of tires on the sidewalk outside and rush to the front window, overlooking the door. A black Lincoln is sitting out front of my house, and there's a man stepping out from the back. He strides around and opens the door.

  He looks familiar.

  My mother steps out, taking his hand as she rises. She's wearing the skirt she probably had on last night, but her other things are over her arm and I swear she's wearing a man's dress shirt, the tails hanging loose over her skirt. She grins and rises up on her tip-toes to kiss him. On the lips.

  Oh my God they had sex.

  I almost fall right on my butt from shock. I may be, uh, innocent myself, but I have enough friends at school to recognize the, ah, glow. My Mom did the deed with this guy last night. He's dropping her off after what I presume is a night of post museum donor party sex. Like, the guy's penis was in her vagina.

  Oh my God.

  He turns around, looks around, and it hits me again, he looks really familiar. Dark hair, lean build, and he's got those little Reed Richards gray hair things at his temples. He's not dressed to the nines but he looks like he should be. He walks Mom up to the front door, and I rush down the stairs to the foyer.

  I hear him saying, "Keep the shirt," and she breaks out laughing.

  She waves to him, then turns around and notices me, and her look sours.

  "What?"

  "I…" I don't know what to say. "You didn't come home last night and you didn't answer your phone."

  "My phone? Oh. I must have left it here."

  "Yeah, in the desk. Who is that guy?"

  "Steven Temple. He's a newer member of the donor list, but quite generous. We hit it off."

  I fold my arms over my chest. "You hit it off."

  She does the same gesture, just as defensively. My God, her hair is all floofed. She has bed hair.

  "We hit it off. I haven't been on a date in years. I like him," she shrugs. "We'll be seeing each other again tonight. Which reminds me, I need to freshen up."

  She almost brushes past me and I just stare at her in shock, swiveling around to watch her go up the stairs. She's not wearing shoes, she's carrying her freaking pumps in her hand. She's even doing that butt sway thing.

  My mom got laid. I have to tell Charity.

  Of course, she's not online. I end up sitting there drumming my fingers for twenty minutes before the little blip next to her name turns green and she gets on the chat with me.

  My Mom didn't come home last night.

  OMG is she safe?

  She just got here. She was with a guy!!!

  Doing what?

  What do you think?

  I don't know. Museum stuff?

  They had sex, Charity.

  OMG!!!

  It goes on like that for about fifteen minutes. Finally I've had enough, say bye-bye to Charity and start pacing my room. I need to make up my mind about my admissions letters. I'm either going to buckle down and go where she wants or make a stand and go where I want.

  I'm starting to lean towards going my own way. I could get a job on the side to support myself while I work, and I'd come through it debt free. I'll do the same if I go Mom's way, but then I'll have surrendered and solidly become her pet or her means to live vicariously or something.

  After quite a while brooding, I hear a door swing shut and, curious, poke my head out into the hallway. That's when my mother walks past my room wearing a cocktail dress. I'd hesitate to call it slutty, I mean it's still her, but for her it's pretty risqué, with a skirt that only comes down to her knees, bare shoulders, and a tight bodice. She's gone the whole nine yards, lipstick, earrings, a string of pearls, and she did up her hair, smoothing it against her head.

  She actually looks pretty good. Younger, too.

  "Yes?"

  "Uh, nothing," I squeak. "Are you going out with that guy again?"

  "Yes. We're going to Philadel
phia for dinner and a movie."

  "What movie?"

  "The Sixth Seal. Ingmar Bergman. It's showing at-

  "Euuugh," I choke out. "Fine, fine. Have fun."

  She tilts her chin back a little. "What are you going to do this evening?"

  "Nothing," I shrug.

  "I've heard Lucas is throwing a party."

  "Mom, you're supposed to be talking me out of going to the jock's house party. You know his parents are down the shore."

  She waves her hand. "You'll be fine. Besides, Lucas wouldn't hurt you. He adores you."

  I'm pretty sure half the things Lucas pictures doing with me would hurt, actually.

  "No, not interested."

  She shrugs. "I see. Fine, then. Enjoy sitting around doing nothing."

  God, my mother can be such a teenager sometimes. She grabs a clutch purse (that I've also never seen before) and heads downstairs.

  Around seven thirty, I get bored. The Honda is still in the garage. Charity will have night shift tonight, until the store closes, anyway. I can go hang out with her.

  Main Street is pretty dead when I park at the end, feed the meter and walk down to Hermitage's. I'm a little surprised when there is no Charity in evidence, and her uncle is manning the counter. I'm doubly surprised that the guy from yesterday is back, sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup and nodding patiently as the old man tells one of his stories.

  "So then Dave pulls down her top and starts yelling, and everybody at the swimming hole turns around to look. These two wads of tissues go floating down…"

  "Where's Charity?" I break in.

  I'm getting a little annoyed. My world is melting around me and my best friend is missing in action.

  The old man waves his hand. "She asked for the night off. First time in three years, I figured I'd give it to her. Her and some boy were going to the party at that little shithead's house. What's his name, Luke or something?"

  "Lucas. She's going to Lucas' party. You're sure?"

  He nods. "Reasonably so. I was just talking to this young man here about-"

  "Whatever, I need to go get her."

  "Hey." Apollo says, and sips his coffee.

  My knees buckle a little. Good God he's hot. He makes jeans and a t-shirt look good. I mean, model good. The cotton molds to his body with impossible precision, even lining those muscle channel things that dip into his belt. Charity came up with an obscene name for those, but I think the technical term is adonis belt.

  Anyway.

  "Hi. I've got to run."

  "Where are you off to?"

  "I need to find my friend. I can't let her go to Lucas' party."

  I have no idea why I would divulge that information to this guy.

  "Why?"

  "Because he's bad news. There will be drinking and drugs."

  "Sounds like fun," he smirks.

  His smirk makes something flutter in my chest, but I can't let myself be distracted.

  "I'm going to go find her."

  I turn on my heels and head for the door.

  "Alone?"

  I stop and turn back, one eyebrow quirked up. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

  "If it's dangerous, why don't you let me go with you?"

  The old man nods, as if it sounds like a profoundly good idea. Apollo shrugs, that smirk widening a little until it threatens a grin.

  "Why?"

  "Why not? I wanted to see a bit of the town. I just moved here with my father."

  That should ring a bell, but why doesn't it?

  It doesn't matter. This is crazy. A complete stranger is offering to go rescue Charity from Lucas' den of scum and villainy, and I'm thinking about taking him up on it. I'm thinking about quite a lot of things. Like his lips. He has very kissable lips. I spend so much time thinking about schoolwork and colleges and My Future I sometimes forget that boys exist. Now I'm looking at a boy and forgetting that Charity exists. Lucas would put one of his jackass friends up to asking her out and lead her into some kind of vile prank to humiliate her or something. Or worse.

  I'm wasting time here.

  "I'm wasting time here," I announce, and turn on my heels.

  Apollo follows me out the door. He downs his coffee with a wince and drops it one of the big wrought iron garbage cans that line the street.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Following you."

  "Why?"

  He shrugs. "I like the view."

  I stumble a little. "Excuse me?"

  "You going to go get your friend, or what?"

  "Yeah. In my car. By myself."

  He continues to follow me.

  "Look, this may seem a little forward of me, but I know the guy you're talking about. From yesterday, right?"

  "Yeah," I sigh.

  "I'm not just going to let you go confront this person by yourself."

  I blink a few times. "Uh, why?"

  "Because I'm suave and debonair, and when you're as hot as I am you can be chivalrous without it coming across as creepy."

  It takes every ounce of my willpower not to laugh at that.

  "Fine. Follow me or something."

  "I'm on foot. Can I catch a ride?"

  "If you insist."

  It feels a little cramped in the Honda with him in the front seat next to me. He has long legs, and puts the seat all the way back.

  "You really think she's in some kind of trouble?"

  "If she's not, she will be. Charity can't handle her liquor and half the town will be at this stupid party. Lucas knows people at the academy, but he knows people at both of the high schools, too. When the party hit Facebook I'll bet every teenager in town swarmed his place. His parents are at Cape May for the weekend."

  He nods, and folds his arms across his chest. Wow, he's got big arms. It makes it look like he's doubled in size. I have to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. I see a hint of some tattoos where his shirt tightens against his skin. I'm almost curious to ask, and chew my lip. He glances over at me and shifts in the seat, visibly uncomfortable from the close quarters.

  "How far?"

  "Not very. We'll be there in a couple minutes."

  Then I hear, as it were, a noise of thunder. It's the subwoofers and Lucas' house. Apollo rolls down his window and the sounds flood in, turning from a vague rumble to music and voices as we draw near.

  "That's pretty loud."

  "Yeah."

  The closer we get, the stronger the smell grows. Tobacco and the sickly sweet tang of weed waft in the air, rising to near contact high levels as I park on the street, half a block down from Lucas' house. This is one of the new subdivisions and everything is fresh and clean, so much so that it's kind of disconcerting. It's odd for this area of the state not to have any freaking trees, and yet there are none in evidence. They were all cut down when the houses were built, and now the only replacements are saplings and a lot of grass and shrubs. I'm not really big on shrubs.

  As I walk down the street, I feel like I should be putting on a helmet.

  Apollo takes long strides to catch up with me and walks along with his hands in his pockets.

  "How do you know this guy?"

  "Classmate. Also he's a dick. We've gone to school together since elementary school, all private schools. His parents are rich and let him do whatever he wants. You get the picture."

  "Yeah, I get the picture."

  There should be a velvet rope or something, but there's not. It's just a house, except for all the noise and lights coming from the back. I made the mistake of being talked into attending one of these once, so I know the drill. I walk up the lawn and around the back of the house, where there must be two hundred people crowded around the in-ground swimming pool. I don't know ninety percent of the people here. Lucas himself probably only knows them as acquaintances. So that's why somebody turns around and offers me a beer.

  "Hey, want a beer?"

  I wave off and thread through the crowd. Everybody is dancing, which amounts to drinking and getting high and bo
uncing up and down on wet concrete around a swimming pool, which is pretty high up there on the list of fantastic ideas. Finally, I spot somebody I know. Todd. He's been a mainstay in the audio-visual club, which meant he got a free period, basically, since the teacher who runs that doesn't give a shit. I grab his arm and give a tug.

  "Oh hey, Dee Dee."

  "Dee Dee?" Apollo asks. Shouts, more like it. The deafening noise turns every conversation into a screaming match. I think Lucas actually hired a DJ, but one of his friends might have the equipment to do it all themselves. Half his friends think they're going to be rich and/or famous, and a lot of them will be right. Lucas himself already has a football scholarship lined up.

  "Who's that?" Todd shouts, swinging the base of his beer at Apollo.

  "No time to explain," I yell back. "Where's Charity? Is she here?"

  "Yeah, she came with Leo. I think she's inside."

  Inside. The smell of smoke is heavy. I find myself rooted to the spot, my feet like chunks of lead. Apollo edges closer, and somehow his voice, barely more than a whisper, carries to my ear.

  "I've got your back."

  I glance back at him. I really have no reason to trust this complete stranger, and yet I let him ride here with me and he's following me inside. He knows how to handle himself, though. That's a plus. I steel myself and forge ahead, like walking into a strong wind, until I pass through the open french doors. There's as many people inside as outside, it seems. The music is loudest in the living room, a huge expanse with a vaulted ceiling and leather couches currently decorated in the early underage drinking style, and if I take a deep breath, under the stink of pizza, chicken wings, and marijuana, I can smell a healthy eau de vomit. It's so enticing, I can't imagine why I stayed away. I glance back to make sure I haven't lost Apollo and head inside.

  I could just scream 'Hey, anybody seen Charity' but one, no one would hear me, and two, nobody would know who Charity is anyway, and three, Lucas would be all over me. He can probably feel that I'm here.

  "Any idea where she'd be?"

  "Nope. I guess we look for Leo."

  "I don't know any of these people."

  The noise is unbearable, between the music and the chorus of CHUG, CHUG, CHUG from the middle of the living room. I haven't spotted Charity yet. I scan the crowd, work my way into the kitchen past a couple making out against the refrigerator. Apollo looks at them with a kind of curious disdain. Nobody seems to notice us.