Adrienne listened to the strange language, and the soft beautiful sounds swirled in her head.
“What is he singing?” Adrienne asked, looking up at Graydon.
Graydon concentrated, listening to the music for a second; then, lowering his head to her ear, he translated in a husky whisper:
“Who would have thought,
I’d be so lucky?
Who would have thought
it would be you and I,
here tonight?
Who would have thought
that a girl like you
would be here
with a guy like me?
And you should know,
You should think,
I could love you….”
Adrienne gazed up at Graydon, intoxicated by the lovely words. He was smiling down at her with a serious expression, gazing deeply into her eyes.
He’s going to kiss me! Adrienne realized. And, to her astonishment, the idea didn’t completely nauseate her.
She leaned her head back, preparing to be kissed, when the music stopped. Graydon released her, and she ducked her head to cover her embarrassment. She applauded along with everyone else.
“I guess I should get you home, huh?” Graydon asked. “Unlike my oh-so-involved parents, yours are probably waiting up for you.”
Adrienne noted the edge in his voice. Did he wish for a more normal family? One with limits and rules? She had always figured he was just like Cameron: uncontrollable and happy that way. If Adrienne behaved like Cameron and her friends, her parents would lock her up and have heart attacks. Not necessarily in that order.
“I guess you’re right,” Adrienne said. Am I actually feeling disappointed? How weird is that?
In the car, Adrienne once again prepared for Graydon to pounce on her, but he didn’t. As he chatted about the club, and Moscow, and school, Adrienne’s mind reeled.
What is going on? This is the guy who has tried to grope me every time I’ve run into him. And now he’s being Mr. Gentleman? What is wrong with this picture?
Before long, the car pulled up to Adrienne’s corner in Morningside Heights near Columbia University, where her parents were professors.
“Well, this is me,” Adrienne said.
“Can’t I walk you to the door?” Graydon asked.
“This is fine,” Adrienne said. “Graydon, thanks for tonight…. I was, um…surprised at what a good time I had.”
“Thanks, Adrienne.” Graydon seemed genuinely touched by her words. He smiled broadly. “Then I declare this date a total and complete success!”
Adrienne laughed, then slipped out of the Rolls. She waved at Graydon as the car drove away, aware of the gaping stares of the pedestrians. Not too many of them had seen a Rolls in the neighborhood before!
As she waited for the elevator, she realized she was humming the Russian tune she and Graydon had danced to. She felt a little dreamy, as if this had been a regular date, and she was looking forward to the next one.
Oh, my God, she thought. I actually am!
CHAPTER SIX
totally suspicious behavior
“So,” Adrienne announced, slamming the metal door of her locker at Van Rensselaer High Monday afternoon, “it really wasn’t so bad. I actually had a good time on my date with Graydon.” She turned and looked at Lily and Tamara. “How weird is that?”
Tamara stared at Adrienne, her large brown eyes wide with disbelief. “On a weirdness scale of one to ten, I’d say it ranks about two hundred,” she said.
“I know!” Adrienne said. “And what’s even weirder? I think I want to go out with him again.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open.
Tamara snorted. “A few months ago, Mr. Perfect was flashing you in the bushes in Palm Beach and slipping into hot tubs with anyone with a pulse. Sorry. I just don’t believe that Graydon had a complete personality overhaul.”
Adrienne knew Tamara was trying to be helpful. She also knew Tamara wouldn’t quit bugging her until she agreed. “Okay,” Adrienne said. “I hear you.”
“Good!” Tamara grinned, the subject obviously dropped—at least for now. “So, what’s up after school? Do you all want to go hang out in the Village?”
“I can’t.” Adrienne sighed. “I have to head up to the Warners’.”
“We’ll walk you to the subway,” Lily said, putting her arm through Adrienne’s.
The three girls stepped out the front doors of Van Rensselaer High into the bright and crisp February day.
“What’s going on?” Tamara said. “Why is everyone standing around the curb?”
Adrienne stood on tiptoe and tried to see over the crowd. As they moved closer, she realized what all the fuss was about.
The Warners’ Rolls stood at the edge of the street, gleaming and black, its chrome fittings highly polished. The uniformed driver stood near the car, keeping the high school kids from getting too close.
Adrienne blinked. Why would Mrs. Warner send the car for me? Is there some kind of an emergency? Do I have to take Emma somewhere? Adrienne scanned her mental planner, trying to remember if Emma had appointments or special classes, but came up blank.
“Miss Adrienne!” the chauffeur called, waving as he spotted her.
Lily and Tamara turned and stared at Adrienne. “Miss Adrienne?” Lily said.
Adrienne shrugged. “It’s a rich thing.”
The three friends walked to the curb, the other kids parting for them as if they were celebrities. It felt strange to have all those eyes on her. Still, she had to admit it gave her kind of a thrill to be so important—to be someone who had a car sent for her. Like she was special.
“Hey, Adrienne,” a girl from her math class called, “can I have your autograph?”
“You going to a funeral?” a boy from English shouted.
“Yeah, yours, if you don’t quit hollering in my ear,” the boy next to him grumbled.
Adrienne winced. This wasn’t exactly the kind of attention she wanted.
“Master Warner had me bring the car to take you to work,” the chauffer said.
“Now that’s my kind of commute.” Lily sighed enviously.
Adrienne sighed, too, but for a different reason. On the one hand, it was really sweet of Graydon to send her a ride to work, especially after she’d complained during their date about spending half her life on the subway. But it was such an over-the-top display. Typical Warner mentality.
She glanced at Tamara and Lily, who were practically drooling. Well, at least I can share the wealth.
“Say.” Adrienne stepped up to the chauffeur. “Would it be all right if we dropped off my friends at Washington Square first?”
“Of course,” the chauffeur replied, opening the door. “Please get in.”
The three girls climbed into the backseat of the luxurious car.
“Oh, man,” Tamara said, stretching her arms across the top of the backseat. She stroked the soft leather upholstery. “I have got to get me one of these after I make my platinum record!”
Lily looked stunned. “This car is bigger than my bedroom,” she said with awe.
Suddenly, the voice of the driver startled them. “Master Graydon asked me to play this for you,” he said. The sounds of the Russian song Adrienne and Graydon had danced to at the nightclub came through the speakers.
Adrienne shut her eyes, remembering how it felt to have Graydon’s arms around her while they danced. It wasn’t the fancy car that made her smile; it was the fact that Graydon had gone to such trouble to track down the CD.
You’d better watch out, Adrienne thought, leaning against the soft leather seat. If you’re not careful, you just might fall for the Graydon Warner charm!
Adrienne stepped into the Warners’ kitchen, singing the one line of the Russian song she could remember.
Emma jumped up from behind a counter, holding a tiny digital recorder.
“Got you!” she shrieked. “You’re a foreign agent!”
“A what?” Adrie
nne stared down at the little blond girl. “All day with this spying!” Tania wailed, throwing up her hands. “Miss Emma creeping around on floors like bug, with the machines and the peeping at the secrets!”
“What’s up, Emma?” Adrienne said, giving Tania a sympathetic look. In addition to her housekeeping chores, Tania took care of Emma when Adrienne wasn’t there.
“I told you,” Emma said. “I am gathering evidence, and…,” she whispered loudly, “I’m convinced that Kane is behind it!”
“Behind what?” Adrienne asked, wondering what on earth Emma could be talking about. Kane was the Warners’ butler, and there was nothing about him that would make anyone think for a second that he was “up to” anything. In fact, he was rarely seen unless the Warners were entertaining.
“It,” Emma intoned mysteriously.
“That’s specific,” Adrienne teased. “What exactly are you accusing him of?”
Emma pouted. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I have to keep an eye on him!”
“I think you’ve been watching too much CSI.” Adrienne grabbed the little girl by the hand and steered her out of the kitchen. “Time for homework.”
“And stop with the sneaky and the watching!” Tania called after them. Adrienne heard the woman muttering in Russian as the kitchen door swung shut behind them.
“Okay, what assignment do you want to work on first?” Adrienne pushed open the bedroom door. She was prepared for an argument. She wasn’t prepared for the sight in front of her.
Emma’s room had been done within an inch of its life by a famous decorator about a year ago. Adrienne had long admired the painted furniture and expensive upholstery. But the room was more of a stage set for a movie about a precious little rich girl than a sanctuary or a place to play. With its pink strié silk hangings, Impressionist paintings, and shelves of valuable antique dolls that held no interest for Emma, it was a room designed for Mrs. Warner’s fantasy of a perfect, feminine, girlie daughter. Not the daughter she actually had.
Now Adrienne stared at all the changes.
Emma had pulled the silk curtains from their rods and stuffed them away somewhere, and bright afternoon light flooded the room. The dolls were piled in a corner and instead the shelves groaned under the weight of complicated electronic equipment. Emma had covered her walls with diagrams of the apartment and maps of the neighborhood, and on a far wall were pictures of every member of the Warner household, including a grinning picture of Adrienne, hair frizzed and skin blotchy from the previous weekend.
“Emma!” Adrienne shrieked. “How did you get this picture of me?”
“Camera behind a two-way mirror in the entry hall,” Emma replied proudly.
Adrienne crossed to the wall and examined the pictures. Tania was grimacing, wiping the mirror with a cloth. Graydon was yawning. Cameron looked smugly pleased. Mrs. Warner was pulling the skin next to her eyes taut as if she was contemplating yet another lift. Mr. Warner was in profile; he obviously was the only Warner who wasn’t obsessed with his appearance.
“Look at Kane,” Emma ordered.
Adrienne peered at the picture of Kane. He was walking past the mirror carrying a small brown paper sack. “I don’t see anything suspicious about this,” she told Emma.
“That’s because you haven’t seen the video.” Emma pointed a remote at the plasma TV on the wall.
“The video?” Adrienne repeated. She whirled around to face Emma. “You have been secretly taping people?”
“That’s the best way to gather evidence,” Emma said, speaking as if Adrienne were a complete idiot.
“Emma, you—”
“Shhh!” Emma ordered. “Here it comes.”
Adrienne glanced at the screen. The camera was hidden somewhere in the hallway leading to the guest suites. The video showed Kane walking down the hall, still carrying his brown paper sack. He paused, then glanced around. He opened the door to one of the many guest powder rooms and shut it behind him.
I really hope this ends here, Adrienne thought. The idea of Emma hooking up cameras in bathrooms was just too awful to contemplate.
Luckily, the camera stayed trained on the bathroom door.
“I’ll fast-forward.” Emma hit a button and cued the tape to Kane’s reappearance approximately twenty minutes later, according to the time code on the bottom of the screen.
“You see?” Emma said. “He’s up to something. No one stays in the bathroom that long. At least, no one else I’ve videotaped.”
Even though it did look fishy, Adrienne wasn’t going to let Emma know that. She glanced at the screen. Now it showed Mr. Warner stumbling into the bathroom. It was obvious to Adrienne that Mr. Warner had been drinking, which was nothing unusual. But she didn’t want Emma to know.
“Emma,” Adrienne said. “The video stops now.” She grabbed the remote from the little girl’s hands and clicked it off.
“But, Adrienne,” Emma protested. “I have to tape or I’ll never solve any mysteries! That’s always the best evidence.”
“It is totally uncool to tape people without their knowledge,” Adrienne said firmly. “In fact, it’s illegal.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “There are security cameras all over this stupid building and no one’s upset about that.”
The kid was right. As it often happened, Adrienne had to work hard to stay ahead of Emma. “That’s different,” Adrienne said, relieved she remembered something from civics class. “Those cameras are set up in public places. Your camera isn’t. In a public place everyone knows they don’t have any privacy. That’s not true in your home.”
Emma’s jaw jutted defiantly. “I have the right to do whatever I want in my own home,” she said, mimicking Adrienne’s emphasis.
“You will stop it now,” Adrienne said, “or I tell your mom.”
Emma snorted derisively.
“No.” Adrienne narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I think I’ll tell your father.”
Emma swallowed, and Adrienne knew she had won.
“And you will erase any video you’ve already taken,” Adrienne ordered. “If anyone sees that tape, Kane could get into trouble for no reason. You’ll make people get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea about what?” Cameron asked, standing in the doorway. “I love gossip.”
“Sure, since if you’re not making it, you’re spreading it,” Adrienne muttered.
“What?” Cameron stepped into the room.
Adrienne looked up and plastered a fake smile on her face. “Oh, nothing.”
Cameron gave her a withering look as if she knew Adrienne had insulted her, then she flicked her long blond hair over her shoulder. “I don’t have time for all this childishness,” she announced. “I have an important essay to write.”
She spun around on her Jimmy Choos and clattered down the hall.
“Cameron is actually doing her homework?” Emma said incredulously. “That is totally suspicious behavior.”
Adrienne patted Emma on the shoulder. “You know, kiddo, this time I agree with you. That is way strange.”
Before she left that evening, Adrienne made sure that Emma had disassembled her video feeds. The kid was so technologically advanced that all Adrienne could do was take Emma at her word and hope all of the surveillance cameras were gone.
She stepped into the street and shivered. She shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her parka.
“Need a lift?” said a familiar voice from the curb.
Adrienne turned and spotted Graydon parked in the driver’s seat of a hot little red Porsche 911 convertible. He was leaning out the window because, on this late February evening, he sensibly had the top closed.
“No Rolls?” Adrienne teased. “Forget it. I’d rather take the subway.”
Graydon clutched his chest as if he were wounded. “Please?” he begged. “Give a guy a break!”
She looked at the car and then glanced in the direction of her subway stop. It would be a chilly walk to
the subway, and then even more blocks to cover once she got uptown. “Weeelll…,” Adrienne said, acting as if she were mulling it over. “It is kind of cold out.”
“Excellent!” Graydon leaned over to the passenger side and opened the door. “It’s on my way, anyway. I’m heading up to Columbia.”
“What are you doing here?” Adrienne asked once she settled in beside him. “I didn’t see you upstairs.”
Graydon gave her a slow smile. “Well, let’s just say that after getting you to work in style this afternoon, I figured you deserved to go home in style, too.”
“But how did you know when I’d leave?” Adrienne asked as the car headed west. She was torn again between thinking Graydon was being incredibly thoughtful and being really pushy. “Were you just sitting there waiting for me to come out?”
He tapped his forehead. “I have your schedule all up here.”
Adrienne blinked. Is he saying that he’s been spying on me? Okay, that’s just freaky.
When the car pulled up in front of her building, Adrienne hopped out, slamming the door behind her.
“Thanks for the lift, Graydon,” Adrienne said. She turned and dashed toward her building. She heard Graydon running to catch up with her.
“Hey, Adrienne!” Graydon said, stopping her and turning her around. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is I don’t like stalkers,” Adrienne told him. “It’s really creepy to think some guy is checking up on you, learning your schedule, and then waiting around for you.”
Graydon winced. “Wow,” he said, “you really think I’m a scumbag.” He sighed. “I guess I deserved that. But it’s not the way you make it sound.”
“Yeah? I think I described the situation pretty accurately.”
Graydon ran his hand through his dark brown hair as if massaging his head would help him think. “We don’t go to the same school,” he explained. “We don’t hang out with the same people. I have no idea where I stand with you. It was easier for me just to arrange a way to run into you casually than get shot down by you if I called and asked you out. I just wasn’t ready to risk the rejection.”
Juicy Secrets Page 4
