Chapter 12
Syd had a class earlier than our Montrose class on Monday mornings, so Jane and I always just met her there, taking our time in the morning and having a bigger breakfast at the caf.
Or at least we usually did. Jane’s stomach was still shaky after puking up the pizza—and Saturday night’s alcohol—late last night. And my appetite had seemed to vanish.
I couldn’t stand the thought of being one of those girls who couldn’t function because some guy didn’t call when he said he would. But I had a gut-level fear that that was exactly what I’d become.
Jane’s phone buzzed and she swore as she glanced at the caller ID. We kept walking across campus, but she took the call.
“Yes?” she said, not exactly snapping, but certainly not a “hey, s’up” either.
“Mmm-hmm,” she answered to whatever was being said. I had a suspicion that it was either her mother or father, simply by the way her shoulders tensed and her gait sped up, like she was trying to walk away from the caller.
I swim a few times a week and walk everywhere on this campus, and yet I became winded trying to keep up with Jane. And then I thought that maybe she was trying to ditch me, that she wanted to take this call in private. I slowed down, letting her get ahead of me.
But apparently that wasn’t what she’d been trying to do, because she stopped a few yards in front of me, waiting for me to catch up.
“It’s never gonna happen,” she was saying when I reached her.
“I know what she said, but I’m saying no.
I can do that, you know. I am over eighteen now.
” She listened for a moment, not moving, still standing even though I’d caught up to her.
People streamed around us on the walking path.
Some were kids I knew, and they gave me a nod while looking at Jane, who was becoming more and more agitated.
“Yes, you can do that. And you know what? Go ahead. I’m calling your bluff. I don’t give a shit if I have to wash dishes to pay my way through community college. In fact, I’d almost rather do that than—”
Yep, definitely one of her parents. My guess was her mother. When her father called, Jane didn’t get as…bitchy with him.
“Go right ahead. I’m sure the dress will look amazing on another one of Betsy’s bridesmaids. Lord knows they’re probably fighting over that spot at the altar.”
So, not her mother. No way would Jane’s mother have anything to do with Jane’s half-sister Betsy’s wedding plans.
Not that she wouldn’t want to.
Jane was the love child (her mother’s words—Jane said bastard) of Pandora Winters and Joseph Stratton.
No shame in being born out of wedlock, of course.
But the kicker was Joseph Stratton was married with two kids and running for president at the time he had an affair with the flighty, New Agey Pandora (not her real name, by the way, Jane told me).
It became public even though Pandora, for a while, claimed Jane wasn’t Joseph’s baby.
Stratton and his wife tried to bluff through it, tried to weather the storm.
My father, at the time Stratton’s top political consultant and campaign manager, did damage control.
One guy on the campaign even said Pandora’s baby was his.
But it all came out, as these things always do.
Stratton withdrew from the presidential campaign and entered the private sector. He acknowledged Jane when she was about one, much to Pandora’s delight and leading to the demise of his marriage (also to Pandora’s delight). Though Joseph never started back up with Pandora (to her dismay).
I knew none of this at the time, being only nine months old myself.
My father went on, being kingmaker to other politicians, but apparently always staying in touch with Joseph Stratton.
I found this all out when my father sat me down and said I was going to Bribury, would be Jane Winters’ roommate, and that I needed to keep her on the straight and narrow.
I’d spent that whole night googling everything I could about Jane Winters (not much), Pandora Winters (a ton!), and Joseph Stratton (a ton and a half!).
And then I’d done what I’d always done, and said yes to my father. Not that it was really a choice, but it still felt like I was keeping a little control that way.
“Yeah, well, I am totally serious on this, Joe,” Jane said now, confirming it was indeed her father on the phone. “It is nonnegotiable. And if you push on this, I’m going to skip the wedding altogether.” She listened, and after a moment gave a terse “goodbye” and clicked off.
“Un-fucking-believable,” she said as she looked around her, as if surprised to find herself in the middle of campus.
“He is such a piece of shit.” She started walking toward the building we were headed to, checking the time on her phone.
“Shit, now we’re going to be late,” she said, picking up the pace.
We weren’t going to be late, but I only said, “It won’t matter, Montrose is always late anyway.” I hoped that throwing her the memory of delicious Montrose might get her out of the mood her father’s call had put her in.
“Right, right,” she said, but the cloud over her followed us on the rest of the walk.
“Are you going to tell me what he said?” I asked as we made our way into the doors of Snyder Hall, where our class was five minutes from starting.
She looked closely at me. “That depends. I mean, I want to, Lily, I really do. But just where do your loyalties lie? Are you my friend first, or your father’s spy?”
“I’m not his spy,” I said, pissed.
She tilted her head at me, assessing. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” I said with more vehemence. “Screw it, I don’t need to hear your secrets if you don’t trust me,” I said, walking past her into the building, taking a right and heading down the hallway to the lecture room.
“Okay, okay,” Jane said when she sat down next to me in our regular seats. Syd was already there, her earbuds still in, though she nodded to me when I sat beside her.
Of course Montrose was late.
“He wants me to be a bridesmaid in Betsy’s wedding at Christmastime.”
“What the fuck?” Syd said, having heard only that as she took out her earbuds and turned her phone off.
“Exactly,” Jane said to Syd, then looked at me with almost a challenge, like I’d be on her dad’s side.
“How is that possible?” I asked. “I mean, forget that Betsy hates you—no offense.”
She shrugged. “None taken.”
“But you have to plan those things several months in advance. And I’m sure her wedding is probably going to be a big one.”
“Monster.”
“Then she’d have her bridesmaids asked and committed months ago.” A look of guilt in Jane’s eyes made me ask, “When exactly did Betsy ask you?”
“Oh, Betsy never asked me. Still hasn’t. We don’t speak. She totally hates me. But my dad’s been bugging me about it for months.”
“But Betsy must know, right? I mean, she can’t just have an extra bridesmaid show up on the day of the wedding. Can she?”
I knew what magic tricks my father was capable of, and if he was anywhere near this—and now I had the sneaking suspicion he definitely was—then really, anything was possible.
“Who the hell knows? Between my father and yours, I’m thinking poor Betsy doesn’t stand a chance of getting anything she wants—and that might include the groom.”
“But to what end? I mean, what are they even up to after all these years? And what is having you being a bridesmaid going to achieve, other than being fodder for gossip?”
“I don’t know. I can’t figure that part out. Not evil-minded enough to think like those two Machiavellian fucks—”
“Good to hear you know your Florentine literature, Ms. Winters,” Montrose said as he entered the room, throwing his messenger bag on the desk and moving to the lectern.
“But I don’t recall ‘fucks’ being part of Machiavelli’s The Prince.
Of course, if he were writing today, he might…
No, he was never a lazy writer. Machiavelli? He’d come up with something better.”
“Oh, come on,” Jane said, leaning forward in her seat. “Surely there’s always a place for a good fuck…in literature.”
“An interesting theory. Maybe it should be the subject of your paper.” He had already moved on from Jane, and she sat back in her seat.
The dark cloud around her only grew with Montrose not rising to her bait, and I knew that with her mood, and Lucas not calling, it was going to feel like an eternity before I saw Lucas at Andy’s swim lesson tomorrow afternoon.
If he showed.
* * *
He showed.
He sat in the tile bleachers during the lesson, watching Andy. Each time I tried to meet his glance, he was looking at his brother, or one of the other kids, or somewhere else altogether.
It was one short week ago that I first saw him. When I was in this pool giving lessons and had felt like I was spiraling out of control just looking at him.
Now I had a feeling of absolute dread that I had lost him before I ever even had him.
I wasn’t even sure anybody could ever “have” Lucas Kade. That he would ever give his whole self to any girl. And from the way he wouldn’t meet my eye, it seemed I wouldn’t even get the chance to try.
He was wearing jeans, and this time it was a black Bribury T-shirt, not a polo. And, God, he was gorgeous.
I resolved to stop looking up at him. Though for most things I didn’t want to be, I was in fact my father’s daughter, and I tried to conjure up my father’s obstinate pride.
If Lucas didn’t want me…fuck him.
Oh God, but I wanted to fuck him. And have him fuck me.
But now it seemed he was just going to fuck me over.
“Lily, are you coming over for pizza tonight?” Andy asked as we were wrapping up and getting out of the pool.
“No, not tonight, Andy,” I said, pushing his little body toward the locker room. “Go with Freddy now and I’ll meet you on the other side.”
Andy and my other little boy went with Freddy while I picked up his two girls and herded them through the showering process.
When I’d come through the locker room before the lessons, I’d noticed the steam room was cordoned off with sawhorses and yellow tape, almost like it was a crime scene.
It was. It was where Lucas stole my heart.
Ha! Melodramatic bullshit. I couldn’t lose my heart to some ex-junkie townie in one week.
I immediately felt guilty and disloyal for those thoughts. It wasn’t how I really thought of him; I was just trying to protect my heart, though I feared it was way too late for that.
I threw on my hoodie and yoga pants, kept my wet hair up in its bun, and made my way out to the hallway with my charges. The two girls Freddy taught moved over to his area. I waited for Andy to move to mine, but I couldn’t find him.
“Didn’t Andy come out with you?” I asked Freddy, ignoring Casey’s mother, who wanted to speak with me about her kid.
“Yeah, he did. He left with his brother right away. The brother said he’d get any instructions on Andy’s progress from you next time.”
Freddy, of course, had seen me with Lucas and Andy on our Saturday swim date. Now Freddy was shooting me a sympathetic look. “He seemed to be in a hurry, like he had to be somewhere,” he said, trying to be helpful.
He wasn’t helpful. The whole situation sucked. And it was official.
Lucas was totally blowing me off.