Shadow Creek

by Joy Fielding

  “Kind of old.”

  Sasha’s voice turned sly. “I thought you liked older guys.”

  Brianne felt her face grow warm and tried to brush away an unwanted blush from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Blushing was for silly young girls. Which she most decidedly was not. Not anymore.

  “And speaking of older guys, your dad’s really hot,” Sasha said, absently checking herself out in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed as she lifted a framed photograph of Brianne’s father from the top of the hand-painted dresser.

  “I guess.”

  “Did I tell you he came into the store again the other day?”

  “Did he? Cool. I told him you had some great new stuff he should check out.”

  “He’s really fit.”

  “He works out a lot.”

  “It shows.” Sasha returned the picture to the dresser and picked up a small bottle of Prada perfume. “What’s with him and the girlfriend?”

  “Fiancée,” Brianne corrected.

  “Whatever. She was kind of clingy. Hanging all over him, as if to say, ‘Back off, bitches. He’s mine.’ You know the type. She was all ‘What do you think of this outfit, honey?’ and ‘What color do you like better, sweetie-pie?’ Pretty nauseating.”

  “She calls him sweetie-pie?” Brianne fought off the sudden urge to gag.

  Sasha shrugged, returning her attention to her reflection and smiling in silent approval. She sniffed at the bottle of perfume, then opened it, dabbing a few drops behind each ear without asking. “Hmm. This smells yummy. Expensive?”

  “Probably.” Brianne hoped she didn’t sound as guilty as she felt. It was her mother’s perfume. She’d borrowed it without asking the other night and hadn’t gotten around to putting it back.

  “Sooo?” Sasha asked, stretching the word out for several syllables. She swiveled around to face Brianne. “We didn’t get a chance to talk when you were in the store, and I didn’t drive all the way to Brooklyn just to deliver this.” She tossed Brianne’s BlackBerry toward her. “I’m waiting …”

  Brianne quickly checked her BlackBerry for messages, smiling to see there were at least ten missed calls. All from him.

  “What is it you want to know?”

  “Everything,” Sasha said with a laugh. “Every last little thing.”

  “Well, actually,” Brianne said, giggling along with her, “his thing isn’t all that little.”

  Sasha shrieked with delight. “You tramp. Tell me.”

  “Brianne,” her mother’s voice suddenly rang out, bursting through the closed door of her room and ricocheting off the walls. “How’s that packing coming along?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Brianne’s eyes rolled across a framed poster of a semi-naked Lady Gaga on the wall behind her bed. “Almost done,” she called out, carelessly tossing a few sweatshirts into her overnight bag. “I can’t wait to move out,” she said, knowing this wasn’t really true.

  “Don’t blame you,” Sasha said. “I’ve been more or less on my own since I was fifteen. My parents said I was incorrigible, whatever that means. Sent me to live with my grandparents. In Kansas, of all fucking places. It was so awful, I can’t tell you. It was like I was in the army. I ran away at least half a dozen times. But then they threatened to put me in a group home if I didn’t ‘straighten up and fly right.’ Yes, people actually talk that way in Kansas. Anyway,” she continued, tossing her blond hair from one shoulder to the other, “I stuck it out until my eighteenth birthday, got my high school diploma, and then ran away for good. Came to New York. Made some friends. Slept on a lot of floors. Found a job, saved my money, got my own place. It’s pretty much a hole in the wall, but hey, at least I don’t have Mommy Dearest trying to tell me how to live my life.”

  “You’re so lucky.” Brianne glanced toward the door, her body bracing for the sound of her mother’s footsteps in the hall. What was with her anyway? Did she go out of her way to embarrass her in front of her friends? Although it could be worse, Brianne thought, picturing her grandmother stumbling drunkenly around her small apartment. “She’s just paranoid I won’t be ready on time and she’ll be stuck having to entertain my father.”

  “I’d be more than happy to entertain him,” Sasha volunteered with a laugh.

  “Grab a number. The line forms on the right.”

  “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right woman.”

  “Oh, he found her,” Brianne said, the sudden wistfulness in her voice catching her by surprise. “He just didn’t keep her.”

  Sasha’s large green eyes opened wide. “Are we talking about your mother now?”

  “Oh, God. Let’s not.” Brianne groaned. “I thought you wanted to hear about the other night.”

  “You thought absolutely right. So, spill. How was it? Was he any good?”

  “He was …” Brianne said, disguising an involuntary wince with a loud laugh, “… the best.”

  “Really? Because sometimes when they’re that cute, they think all they have to do is lie there and let you do all the work.”

  “Trust me. He didn’t just lie there.”

  “Okay, so, details, details. How big was it? Did he know how to use it? How long could he go? Did he go down on you first?”

  Oh, God, Brianne thought. She hadn’t expected this kind of grilling. How much did she trust Sasha? How much could she tell her? She looked toward the door, suddenly hoping for the sound of her mother’s voice. Nothing. Naturally, she thought. Always lurking, but never there when you actually needed her. Which wasn’t really the truth, she thought in the next breath, irritated nonetheless.

  “So, did you give him a blow job?” Sasha prodded.

  Brianne felt a sudden surge of pride. “He said it was the best one he’d ever had.”

  Sasha shook her head dismissively. “They all say that.”

  Do they? Brianne wondered, wishing she had Sasha’s experience.

  “What else did he say? Did he tell you he loved you?”

  “No.” The truth was that after it was over, he hadn’t said much at all.

  “So where’d you do it? Not here!”

  “No. Are you kidding? My mom would have a fit if she knew I was dating anyone like that.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly dating,” Sasha said, emphasis on the final word. “Oh, God, look at you,” she squealed. “You’re turning all shades of red. Definitely not your color. I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t mean to.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I was just kidding. You know that. I’m sure he really likes you.”

  “Has he said anything?” Brianne asked. After all, it had been Sasha who’d introduced them.

  “No. I haven’t seen him in weeks.” Sasha plopped down on Brianne’s bed. “So, go on. Tell me. Where’d you go?”

  “His place.”

  “You dirty girl. What’d you tell your mom?”

  “That I was spending the night with this friend from school.”

  “And she believed you?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “Maybe because you were lying?” Sasha asked in return.

  “I can be pretty convincing.”

  “I bet you can. I bet you’re just full of surprises.”

  “Maybe.” Another surge of unexpected pride.

  “It’s always the ones who look so innocent who are the ones you have to watch out for.”

  “Mothers are easy to fool,” Brianne said.

  “Not mine,” Sasha countered. “She always saw right through me. My grandmother, too. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding?’ she used to say. Then she’d shake her finger in my face. Made me want to bite it off. I thought grandmothers were supposed to be nice. You know, bake you cookies and spoil you with presents.”

  “My grandmother’s an alcoholic,” Brianne said.

  Sasha absorbed this latest tidbit without comment. “So, how many times did you do it?”

  Brianne felt a frown tugging at her lips. She really d
idn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I kind of lost count. Five … six, maybe.”

  “Six times? Are you kidding me? Who can go six times?”

  “Maybe it was only four,” Brianne quickly backtracked.

  Sasha laughed. “Stop kidding around. How many times? Seriously.”

  “Three,” Brianne lied, pretending to be picking some lint off the comforter, hoping Sasha hadn’t inherited her mother’s and grandmother’s talent for ferreting out falsehoods. “It was three times.”

  “Wow. Still pretty impressive. Aren’t you sore?”

  “A little.” Actually a lot, Brianne thought, although it had only been twice, and the first time was so quick, she wasn’t sure it really counted.

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Of course.”

  “When?”

  “Hopefully this weekend.”

  “I thought you were going hiking in the Adirondacks this weekend with Daddy.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And plans have a way of changing,” Sasha stated more than asked.

  “Especially where my father is concerned,” Brianne conceded. The phone beside her bed rang. Brianne reached over and picked it up before it could ring a second time. “Hello?”

  “Hi,” the voice said. Low. Deep. Dangerous.

  Like he was, Brianne thought. “Hi,” she said, feeling her heartbeat quicken and lowering her voice to a whisper.

  “Is it him?” Sasha asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

  Brianne nodded, wishing now that Sasha hadn’t come over.

  “How are you?” he asked. “I’ve been texting you like crazy …”

  “I left my BlackBerry at Lululemon. Sasha just brought it back. She’s here now.”

  “Good old Sasha. Tell her, ‘hi.’ ”

  “He says ‘hi,’ ” Brianne said, dutifully.

  “Hi, yourself, stud.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said ‘hi,’ ” Brianne told him, leaving off the last word and pushing herself off the bed. She crossed to the window, staring down at Sasha’s bright orange Mustang. A silver sports car suddenly turned the corner onto the street and came to a stop halfway down the block. Brianne leaned her forehead against the glass, trying to make out the person behind the wheel.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thinking about the other night?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was pretty intense.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, are we on for this weekend?” he asked.

  It was at that moment Brianne heard a click on the line and realized someone had picked up the extension. “Just a minute,” she warned. “Hello? Hello? Mom? Is that you?”

  “Sorry,” Val answered immediately. “I thought it might be your grandmother.”

  “I’ve got to go. Text me later,” Brianne said, hanging up the phone in a panic. How long had her mother been listening? How much had she heard? “Shit.”

  Sasha was instantly on her feet. “Your mother was listening in on the extension? Shit.”

  “What did I say? What did I say?”

  “Nothing,” Sasha told her. “I swear. Good. Yes. Yes. Yes. Honestly. It was very frustrating. You’d make a great secret agent.”

  “Shit,” Brianne said again, hearing her mother’s footsteps approaching her bedroom door.

  “Brianne,” her mother said, knocking gently. “Can I come in?” She opened the door before Brianne had time to object.

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” her mother apologized immediately. “I …”

  “… thought it was Grandma. It’s okay.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Just some guy I know from school.”

  “I thought I heard him say something about the weekend … My God, would you look at this room,” Val exclaimed. “How can you bring anybody in here? It’s a mess. And you haven’t finished packing. You’re still in your underwear.” She looked helplessly around the room, her eyes moving from the bed to the floor to the dresser. “Is that my perfume?”

  “I’m going to be late for work,” Sasha interjected quickly, already halfway to the door. “Don’t worry. I can find my own way out. Be sure to call me as soon as you get back. Bye, Valerie. Nice seeing you again.” She blew Brianne a kiss, then left the room.

  “Aren’t you embarrassed to bring friends up here?” Val was asking as Brianne watched from the window while Sasha climbed into the front seat of her orange Mustang and sped past the silver sports car idling down the street.

  “They don’t care about stuff like that.”

  “There are clothes all over the floor. This nice blouse,” Val said, bending down to scoop it up. “The one you had to have. The one you begged me to buy. And these shoes …”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m a slob. I’ll clean it up.”

  “And these jeans. These three-hundred-dollar designer jeans.”

  “I was going to pack those.”

  “And this T-shirt …” Val stopped suddenly, turned the T-shirt over in her hands, the color quickly draining from her cheeks. “My God, what happened to this shirt?”

  “What are you talking about? Nothing happened.”

  “What is this? Is this blood?”

  Brianne tried grabbing the once white T-shirt from her mother’s hands. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It looks like blood,” her mother said, sniffing at the large stains. “My God, what did you do? Did you fall? Did you cut yourself?”

  “No.” Brianne spun around. “See? No cuts. No bruises. I’m fine. Don’t be crazy. It’s not blood.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know. I must have brushed up against something. Wet paint, maybe.”

  “Brianne …”

  “Did you know you have a visitor?” Brianne looked back out the window, hoping to distract her mother.

  “What? Who?” Valerie approached the window, stared down at the street below.

  Brianne used the moment to snatch the T-shirt from her mother’s hands. How could she have been so stupid to leave it lying around? First her BlackBerry. Now this. Her mother was right. She couldn’t afford to be so careless. “The silver sports car. Halfway down the street.” She watched her mother’s shoulders slump. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “Shit.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “You are going to get dressed and then finish … start … packing,” Valerie said, checking the mirror over the dresser to make sure she’d put her lipstick on straight. “I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”

  THREE

  THIS DAY IS GOING downhill faster than a skier in Aspen, Valerie was thinking as she ran down her front steps toward the street, the July heat instantly closing around her. Damn this humidity, she thought, taking a slow, painful breath as she approached the car door and knocked on the window.

  The driver peered over at Val from behind the glass, then smiled. The smile was one of trepidation rather than joy, more “Oh, God, what happens now?” than “It’s so nice to see you.” Perfectly normal under the circumstances, Val thought. Although nothing was really normal about these circumstances.

  “You don’t have to wait out here,” she said without any preamble as the window slowly lowered.

  “That’s all right,” came the soft reply. “I have the air-conditioning on.”

  “Good way to run down the battery.”

  “Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “I take it Evan asked you to meet him here,” Val stated.

  “He said he was running a bit late and it would save time if I could just meet him at your place.”

  Val nodded. “Well, then. You might as well come inside. It might be a while.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

  Val gave the y
oung woman a look that said, Are you kidding me?

  Her soon-to-be ex-husband’s new fiancée sighed deeply. The sigh said, You’re probably right. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  “I know,” Val agreed. Why am I doing this? she asked herself as Jennifer opened the car door, long bare legs extending into the open air, siren-red toenails peeking out from the open toes of her ridiculously high platform sandals. The last time I saw those legs they were wrapped around my husband’s neck, Val thought. “I believe you know the way,” she couldn’t resist adding as she extended her right arm toward the glass and stone house down the street.

  Val wiped the sweat from her upper lip with the backs of her fingers, noting that in spite of the heat and humidity, Jennifer looked as fresh and as lovely in her yellow T-shirt and white shorts as the proverbial daisy. She found herself studying her replacement as the young woman walked ahead. Why can’t I walk like that? she wondered, ruing that she’d never mastered the art of the subtle wiggle. Or the subtle anything, she conceded.

  “You don’t just walk,” her friend Melissa had once told her. “You stride.”

  “I think ‘lope’ is a better description,” her friend James had quickly corrected.

  “I lope?”

  “Like a newborn colt,” James said.

  “I walk like a horse?”

  “It’s very charming,” Melissa had assured her.

  Charming. Yeah, right, Val thought now, already regretting her act of impetuous altruism as she watched Jennifer gracefully ascend the half-dozen concrete steps to her front door. How does she even move in those sky-high platforms? she wondered, picturing Jennifer tripping over a large boulder in the Adirondacks and tumbling into Shadow Creek. The image made her smile, and then frown. So much for altruism, she thought.

  Jennifer opened the front door, then stepped inside the air-conditioned house, stopping just inside the gray-and-gold-flecked marble foyer.

  Val motioned toward the living room to her left. “Make yourself at home,” she said, getting more than a slight degree of satisfaction when she saw Jennifer wince.

  “Maybe I should wait outside,” Jennifer said, not moving.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not going to bite you.”

  Jennifer nodded, although she looked far from convinced.