Saturday April 3 2004
San Diego
"High heels," Caitlin said, looking unbelieving at the contents of the open box in Roxanne's hands. "For me."
"They're wedges, for crying out loud. Just four inches. You won't fall over; you might not even notice."
"I'll notice. Roxy, I can't get through a door with my hair up if I'm not barefoot. Why would I want to be taller?"
Roxanne looked down on her sister, who was perched on one of the shoe store's little benches. "It's not about being taller. It's about making your legs look terrific in a dress. Preferably something shorter than those granny skirts you wear."
"Roxy, I'm going to a dance, not a, a …"
"A hooker's convention?" Roxanne smiled and shook her head. "A school dance is no place for a feminist, Sis. You and Joel have roles to play. He's supposed to treat you like a princess, and your job is to make every guy in the room wish he was Joel." And make them wonder if Joel's getting any, but we won't go into that, will we?
Their plans for the evening had taken something of a turn when Kat had called Melanie to invite her out. "Lori and I were headed to the charity bash the Chi's are throwing tonight." Kat had put the call on speaker, so Roxanne could join in; Melanie's voice had sounded excited. "Lori's dad's an alum, and they hinted the Sirens might get a gig out of it if we show."
Kat had frowned into the phone. "Show what?"
Melanie had snorted. "It's a frat, Kat. You can't get too many girls at a frat party. Think we could get Sarah to come too?"
Kat had glanced at her and shaken her head, even though she was on the phone. "Not her style. She's got other plans, anyway."
"We roped Joel into coming. He's not taking it with good grace. I'm sure he'd rather be moping at home while Alex is whooping it up in Mexico. It would cheer him up to know you were coming too."
Kat had shifted the phone to her other ear and looked at her for a sign. "Um…"
Roxy had nodded vigorously.
"Okay. Roxy says she'll come, too. What should we wear?"
"Something you'd wear to a party. A nice dress."
"Kay. We can pick you up. What time?"
"Seven okay?"
Kat had looked at her again. It was one o'clock. It would have to do. She'd nodded again.
Kat had returned her attention to the phone. "Suits. See you then."
Roxy had grabbed her wrist as soon as she'd hung up. "Get the car keys. We have to go shopping, like now."
"All the clothes you've got, and you need something?"
"Not for me, doof. For you."
"I've got clothes." But Kat had picked up the keys anyway. "Anna, we're going clothes shopping, I guess."
"Have a good time," the little housekeeper had called from the basement. Neither girl was surprised that Anna had been able to hear them. "I'll serve dinner a little early, so you'll have plenty of time to primp."
In the car, as the garage door had rolled up, Kat had said, "Why are we doing this? All I need is something casual."
Roxanne had rolled her eyes. "She said 'party clothes'. That means New Year's party, not birthday party. And I know you don't have a thing to wear on a date."
"Date?" The car had started out of the garage with a little jerk.
"Kat," Roxanne had said patiently, "Do you want to have fun tonight, or do you want to spend the whole night fighting off horny frat boys?" She'd gone on, "Half the kids in school think you and Joel are more than lab partners. If you're seen in public, everyone will assume you're dating, which is good for you, for tonight, anyway. So play the part. You like him, don't you?"
"Not like that. We're just friends. Besides, he's seeing Alex."
"Nobody seems to know that. Maybe cuz nobody sees them together like they do you. Anyway. You and Joel act like it's a date, and you can spend the night in peace. Your choice."
Kat had gone along, a little grumpily, and Roxanne had led her through a selection of stores without buying a thing – for Kat; Roxy was weighed down with purchases, items that had simply shouted at her to be taken home.
Kat held one of the open-toed shoes in her hand. "I'll tower over him on the dance floor."
"If I know you and Joel, you won't go near the dance floor. But if you do, just kick em off first. Guys like that."
Kat frowned. "Why?"
Because seeing a sexy-looking girl undress even a little in public gets them hot. And it makes them hope you're loosening up. "Just take my word for it."
"I bet Joel will be wearing school clothes."
"Pfft. As if Melanie would let him out of the house." She set the box on the floor and walked a few steps down the aisle for another. "Besides, he's not the one who has to dress to impress. Melanie will make sure he doesn't show up at the door looking like a homeless person."
Kat slipped off her running shoes and white socks. "Why are we shopping for shoes first?"
"Cuz that's where the selection will be slimmest. We might have to pick out a dress to go with the shoes, Size Eleven."
"I don't have much luck finding clothes." She slipped a foot into the shoe and wiggled her toes. "You know that."
"Kat, have you even shopped for a dress since you changed? For sure, you don't have a single party dress in your closet. We'll find you something. It'll be easier than buying pants, guaranteed." Although it's sure to show more skin than you're used to. The challenge will be finding something that shows you off that you won't keep tugging at all night.
Roxanne was by turns amused, perplexed, and frustrated by her half-sister's spinster-librarian attitudes. Kat wasn't a prude, really; Roxy's clothing choices didn't elicit the disapproving looks from her that they did from Mr. Lynch. She just wouldn't dream of wearing something like that herself, or doing anything that got her noticed by boys. Back when the two of them had actually looked like sisters, Kat had blushed and fidgeted any time a boy looked at her longer than five seconds, or teased her, or offered her a little throwaway flirting, and Roxy had wondered if she would ever manage to score a boyfriend. Now, Kat could make guys walk into walls as she passed by, and could gather a circle of admirers in ten seconds with just a smile. But she still dressed more for cover than for show, and looked at any guy who came on to her as if he'd just exposed himself in public. As far as Roxanne could see, Kat was farther away from having a boyfriend than ever.
And Kat could really, really use a boyfriend. Having a regular guy in the picture would keep the dawgs at bay, and teach her some valuable lessons about dealing with the opposite sex. She was compulsive about schoolwork in a way that went beyond getting good grades; tending to a boyfriend should get her nose out of the books some. And…
Roxanne worried about Kat's other compulsion. Her attitude towards Mr. Lynch was strange and maybe unhealthy. A guy in her life who was age-appropriate might be just what she needed right now.
La Jolla
"Kat, quit tugging at that dress. You look fine."
Caitlin shifted her hips as she put the minivan into park. She pulled at the hem of her leaf-green dress, which presently ended six or eight inches above her knees. "It keeps riding up."
"It rises one frigging inch."
Kat's hand went to the string around her neck, trying to pull up the neckline, which exposed five inches of skin below the throat. "It's just so short to begin with."
"Your thighs are, like, two feet long. You're not showing anything. Somebody'd have to have their head between your knees to see your panties." Roxanne smoothed down the front of her mini, a charcoal-colored elastic sheath that ended at about the same height as her sister's. On Roxy, however, the hem left so little leg unexposed it needed to be tucked between her thighs while sitting. "And quit messing with the top part, too. It's a Queen Anne, for crying out loud. You're showing two inches of boob."
They were in the driveway of the Richards' house, come to pick up Joel, Lori, and Melanie. Caitlin had just been on the phone with Melanie, and the girl had told her that the three of them would be right out.
The house's front door opened, and Joel stepped out. Roxy appraised Kat's nerdy friend. He looked freshly shaved and his hair was brushed. He wore pressed slacks, jacket, and tie; his shoes were clean, and everything fit and hung properly. She decided he cleaned up pretty good. Maybe Alex was onto something after all.
He slid the van's door aside. "Another minute. Why, I don't know. I thought they were ready ten minutes ago."
"Girls," Kat commiserated. "You look nice, Joel."
"Thanks." He glanced inside. "Uh, so do you. Both of you." He stayed outside.
Melanie stepped out and waited by the front door, key in hand. She was wearing an attractive but conservative outfit: a sleeveless blue dress that fitted closely without clinging, ending just above the knee; two-inch heels that matched her little strapless purse; matching necklace, earrings, and watch. She looked ready to do business first and party after.
Lori stepped through the door and strutted towards the car. Roxanne said, "Gawd. I've been totally upstaged."
The Goth girl had changed her look, sort of. The cosmetic foundation was still pale, but not nearly as heavy as usual, with a little touch of blush brushed on her cheekbones. The dark eyeshadow was still there, but the use of eyeliner was more judicious, the shaping of her eyes more natural. She'd outlined her mouth with pencil, but the black lipstick had been replaced with dark coral, and she actually looked kissable.
Her dress was a game-changer. It was black, of course, and floor-length. But it was lightweight and slit up to her hip on both sides, and opened wide when she took a long stride, showing off her spike-heeled knee-high black boots and the full length of her bare thighs. The top half wasn't fabric but black suede, laced in front like a corset and very low-cut. She'd applied makeup to her bare shoulders and generous cleavage, as well, the same white foundation with a touch of rose. She wore fingerless shoulder-length gloves of black lace, and her usual black nail polish had been replaced by a shade close to the one on her lips. Her black hair was up off her neck, and clear stones sparkled at ears and throat. A little black bag swung at her hip, hanging off her shoulder by a long thin strap.
Lori passed by Joel to step into the van. The dress fell completely off her leg, exposing black lace panties, Brazil-cut. She flipped it back over her legs as she sat.
Kat regarded her in the rear-view mirror. "That's Goth, really?"
"Not really," the girl replied, adjusting her bustier top. "More like Halloween-party Goth. Sort of a cross between Morticia Adams and Saint Pauli Girl. Think I'll impress the bluebloods?"
Joel said, "You could impress a dead man. And you look ready to try."
She smiled wide. "Reed. Humor and hormones both? Alex is so good for you."
San Diego
The bus dropped Sarah off three blocks from her destination. She shouldered her small gym bag and set off down the grimy sidewalk to her appointment. On the way, she was accosted by three idlers, whom she brushed past without a word, and impatiently waved off a vehicle that pulled to the curb just ahead of her. Her irritation was faint and fleeting – on this street, regardless of the time of day, a young woman alone was almost certainly a prostitute, and her tight brief clothing would only have reinforced that assessment – but she was in a hurry.
She paused at the front door of her destination: a plain brick structure just like the ones flanking it, unmarked by any sign but the street number above the door. She mounted the two steps and pushed the door open.
Inside was a small dingy room with a single door leading further into the building, guarded by a middle-aged woman sitting behind a desk. She watched Sarah enter, eying her clothing. "You're in the wrong building, sugar. The rent-by-the-hour place is two doors…" She paused. "Wait a minute. Aren't you-"
Sarah slipped her bag off her shoulder. "Hello, Mrs. Wallace. Is there someplace I can change?"
The woman pressed a button on the desk, and the door buzzed and clicked. "Bathroom three doors down on the right. Is that supposed to be a disguise or something?"
"Or something." She moved toward the door.
Mrs. Wallace said, "I'm glad you came back. I didn't expect it. People like you usually don't."
Sarah paused at the doorway and frowned. "People like me?"
The woman shrugged. "People who haven't been through it. You don't have the look."
Sarah passed through the door without comment and followed the doorguard's directions to the women's bathroom, a four-stall affair whose fixtures looked like they'd been installed in the Fifties. She found a stall with a working lock and began slipping out of her clothes. The outfit she wore had been put on for the benefit of Roxanne and the others, who'd assumed she'd been headed out on a date. That suited Sarah fine; she had no desire to endure whatever comments the others might make about what she did in places like this. She'd passed up the little robot housekeeper's offer of a ride, and refused the loan of a car; Sarah was half certain the vehicles in Anna's care were bugged somehow, and she had no desire to be kept track of.
She emerged from the stall dressed in jeans and a plain white tank top. Her only accessory was a silver crucifix, a recent gift from Roxanne and a duplicate of the one the little sprite always wore around her neck. She examined her face in the mirror and removed most of her makeup. When she'd readied herself as best she could, she took a deep breath and let it out, shouldered her bag, and went down the hall to the room she'd visited the previous week.
She knocked on the door, and, a moment later, a harried-looking woman opened up. "Sarah?"
Sarah smiled at her. "Wendy, why does everyone act so surprised I'm here? I said I'd be back next week, didn't I?"
"You don't know how often we hear that." Wendy swung the door wide. "I'm glad. I hate leaving them in front of the TV, but I don't have your knack."
You might if you grew up in a house without one, she thought. She stepped in, listening. From the next room, she heard a television playing a simple jingle, something from either a kiddy show or a commercial. "Where are the moms tonight? Group, or classes?"
"Classes. They're learning about guilt trips, and emotional dependency, and how to avoid being manipulated. Most of them would be headed back home with their old men in ten minutes, if the bastards ever found them here." The woman looked at her. "Those stories you told the kids about your family. You made that stuff up, right?"
Sarah shook her head. "All true."
She scoffed. "I can't imagine a childhood that happy."
A happy childhood, for sure, Sarah thought. The adolescence, not so much. She stepped into the next room, and saw half-a-dozen children of various ages sitting on the floor around an old TV set. She said, "Hey. Turn that thing off. It's story time."
The children all turned to her. All but two were familiar from her previous visit. Sarah had been surprised to see that the kids and their moms were mostly white, with a couple of Hispanics. The lady running the battered-women's shelter had explained: "Black women don't usually run. They either put up with it till they get killed or hurt bad enough to involve the authorities, or they kill the men in their sleep."
One of the newcomers said to another child, a girl of seven or eight, "Who's that?"
"It's Sarah," she said, as if Sarah had been a regular fixture in her life for years. "She's an Indian."
"Am not," Sarah said. She stepped to the set and turned it off. "Indians are people from India. I'm a Native American, meaning my people walked here from Asia about ten thousand years before yours sailed here from Europe."
"That's why you look Japanese," the boy said.
"No, she doesn't," another girl put in. "I went to Mexico once. She looks Mexican."
Sarah shook her head, still smiling. "Wrong and wrong. I don't look like either of those ethnic groups. But to whites, all us dark-skinned people look alike." She would have been offended if her audience had been adults, but you had to make allowances for kids. They saw the world with fresh eyes, except where their sight had been blinkered by their parents' prejudices. She dropped to her knees in front of a boy she'd made friends with the week before, and reached for his head, grinning. "You know, to me, you all look as alike as muffins from the same pan." She rubbed knuckles across the top of his head. "I can't tell. Are you a boy or a girl?"
"Boy!" He squealed, and a couple of the others laughed.
"You can't walk here. There's an ocean." The child who spoke had a ball cap on, and appeared to have a shaved head underneath.
"North America and Asia were connected just south of the Arctic Circle once," Sarah said. "If you look at a map of Alaska, you can see a spot where they almost touch. That's where we crossed."
"Why do they call you Indians, then?" Another boy asked.
She took them all in. Several of them bore bruises on their arms or faces; Sarah knew there were plenty more under their clothes, and more than a few scars as well. Tell them the story of Columbus? Make it the schoolbook version, then. They don't need to hear a story about a selfish brutal man who lied to those who trusted him and committed atrocities on the helpless. They have enough of their own.
She smiled and sat on the floor, crossing her legs. "That sounds like the start of a story. Have you ever known somebody too stubborn to admit a mistake, even when he knows he's wrong? Europeans discovered America by accident about five hundred years ago, when they were looking for India, and even after they knew they hadn't, they sort of stuck with their mistake.
"At the time, traders who traveled by sea to India and China went south down the coast of Africa, then east to the Indian Ocean." She gestured with her hands. "It was a long and dangerous trip, but back then even the biggest ships were sailboats, and their navigation wasn't very good. They got lost a lot when they sailed out of sight of land and couldn't see any landmarks. Plus, their ships weren't big enough to carry enough food and water, so they had to drop anchor every so often and pick stuff up on shore.
"Now, contrary to what everybody thinks he knows, most educated Europeans at the time believed the world was round. But nobody had a way to prove it, and they weren't sure how big around the Earth was. The only way to be sure was to sail around it. But no one was willing to take the risk, until-"
"Columbus!" One boy called out.
"That's right, Christopher Columbus. He convinced the Spanish government to give him a small fleet of ships to sail west and find India. He was taking a big risk, even if he didn't lose his way, because his ships could only carry enough food and water to get him to India if it was as close as he hoped.
"It wasn't. He guessed wrong about the size of the Earth, by about ten thousand miles. If America hadn't been in the way, he would have died at sea less than halfway there. But he made landfall in the islands of the Caribbean, and called them the 'West Indies', thinking he'd found a string of islands just east of India. He called the natives 'Indians', and kept calling them that, even after it was clear to everyone that India wasn't anywhere near. When whites explored the mainland, they called the people they found there 'Indians', too, and the name stuck for five hundred years." She gestured to herself. "I'm an Apache, part of a people called the Athabaskans. Most of us live in Arizona and New Mexico."
"On the rez," A child who'd been in Sarah's audience last week said. "That's a reservation."
She nodded. "That's right."
"Apache. Does that mean something?" A new boy. He'd looked at her with some unease when she'd entered, but the ready acceptance of the others had put him at ease.
She nodded. "It does, but not in my language." She lowered her voice. "In Zuni, it's part of a longer name meaning 'the fierce enemy from the North'. We kicked a lot of butt, taking land from other tribes to make a homeland when we moved south from Canada about a thousand years ago. We still have a reputation as fearless fighters, even though we've lived at peace for a long time now." She sat up straighter. "Now, who wants to hear a story my grandmother told me, about Coyote the Trickster?"
"You told that one last week," a girl said.
"Lots of stories about Coyote. He gets in all kinds of mischief. For example. One day, Coyote was paddling a canoe…"
Ramona California
"This is a frat house?" Kat's eyes left the road to glance at the fancy white wrought-iron fence they'd been rolling past for two minutes. "This is an estate."
Roxy peered past the fence at the rolling hills beyond. She thought she could just make out a huge angled roof on the other side, maybe half a mile distant. "No, it's more like corporate headquarters for the company that invented food or something. The fence must've cost a million dollars." The fence posts were monuments, brick columns eight feet tall, supporting massive twenty-foot ironwork panels; the barrier stretched as far down the road as she could see.
"Sixteen million. The Chi's are a very old, very rich frat," Melanie said. "They've got chapters on both coasts. And associates in Europe."
Roxy turned to Lori, sitting behind Kat. "And your dad's an alum." She hadn't suspected the Goth girl came from money. She wondered if Lori's dad was as rich as Mr. Lynch.
Lori gave her an odd smile. "Don't start sucking up too soon. I'm trying hard to get disowned."
"This isn't your usual Chi 'do," Melanie went on. "Once a year, they go slumming a little, and the guest list opens up to include jocks and campus celebrities. And every presentable girl they can round up. They draw a huge crowd, and they take a lot of photos."
A brick driveway and huge gate appeared, with a parade of shiny cars rolling in. Kat turned in and lined up. "So I see. But why do they do it?"
"Different reasons," Lori said. "It's something they can point to at charter renewal meetings when somebody complains that they're too elitist. Members and alums are strongly urged to show, even if they only talk to one another. But the regular members do rub elbows with the plebs, some of them anyway, and it widens the social network a little. And a crowd of girls always draws guys looking for action, no matter who their daddies are."
"Kind of like a club, the kind with a doorman and a velvet rope." Roxy looked over the scenery, acres of rolling grass and scattered trees and a line of mostly expensive cars stretching in front and behind. "How's the music?"
Lori scoffed. "Sucks. That may change next year, if Mel gets to talk to the right people tonight."
A minute later, the hills drew aside to reveal the final stretch of the drive. The house was as big as a warehouse, but much prettier, with a circular drive fronting a façade of brick the same color as the fence-posts, and an overhang supported by four big fluted columns. "Welcome to Tara."
They passed under a canopy extending over the driveway and pulled up to the door. The valet's reluctance to approach the two-year-old minivan disappeared when Kat stepped out and offered him the keys. Roxy took her elbow and guided her off the pavers to the sidewalk. "Stay on the pavement, no grass or gravel. Remember, put your heel down first, but transfer your weight to the ball of your foot right away. Back and legs straight, tush in, shoulders back. Take small steps. Point your toes out just a little if you have to. And don't look down."
"Roxy, it's not the first time I've worn heels, you know."
"Wouldn't be the first time you fell in them, either. Not even the first time today."
Kat pulled at her hem and rolled her shoulder, making no change whatever in the way the dress hung on her. "That was just a little stumble."
"Kat, you hit the kitchen floor so hard it made ripples in the pool." They reached the wide concrete, and Roxy let go of her sister's arm. "Time to leave the nest. Fly, little bird." Roxanne ignored her own advice, putting one foot in front of the other as if walking a line on the sidewalk. She was wearing strappies with two-inch soles and six-inch spikes, which gave her a height of maybe five-six or -seven and showed her off nicely, she thought, especially with the added bounce and sway of the catwalk-strut. Kat's cautious glide allowed Roxy to walk alongside without rushing or falling behind.
Lori sidled up, and the three of them walked toward the entrance side-by-side. Males at the door and on the sidewalk turned their heads to watch. Lori said, "Roxy girl, you have a price in mind? Because you won't get out of here tonight without somebody asking."
Roxanne snorted. "Do I look like any of them could afford me?"
Behind them, Melanie said, "I feel like I'm part of an entourage. Hang back, Joel. Let them make their entrance."
Kat slowed. "You two go on."
"Sis, honestly."
"I'm supposed to be with Joel. Now's the time to start." She took Joel's arm. "Don't let me fall, kay?"
Joel offered his other arm to his sister. "If I'm going to be gallant, I might as well go all the way."
As soon as they passed through the tall front doors and entered the building, Roxanne revised her mental description of the place: not a warehouse or a corporate headquarters; a five-star hotel. Inside the doors was a lobby of sorts, all polished wood and light marble with a twenty-foot ceiling and tile floors. In a conversation area a few steps away, leather couches surrounded a thick rug on three sides; a flickering fireplace completed the square. Art hung on the walls and stood displayed in niches. An attendant stood near a stand-up desk like a big lectern, directing visitors. Roxy blinked at a set of elevator doors behind him. "How many floors has this place got?"
"Three," Lori said. "But we won't be going upstairs. The party's out back."
A man sitting on one of the couches stood. "Lorelei."
Lori said, "Dad. I was going to call when we got in. You didn't need to wait for us."
"I was hoping you'd get here earlier, but you're actually earlier than I expected." The man approached them and clasped both his daughter's hands. He looked to be about fifty, with a full head of salt-and-pepper and a build that spoke of regular exercise. The cut and material of the lightweight gray suit he wore shouted money to Roxanne, and the man's cufflinks and tie tack looked like gemstones. "These are your friends from the band?"
"Mostly just friends from school." Lori made introductions, and Roxy learned her last name was Adler. Roxy noted that her father looked at Mel and her and Kat with a man's appreciation, and wondered if Mrs. Adler was still in the picture.
"Well." He addressed Melanie. "I'll take you upstairs, Melanie. The other Board members aren't actually waiting – I doubt they'll move from the drawing room all night – but I think it would be to your advantage to see them early. I'll make introductions and back out. It being that my daughter's in the band, we don't want any appearance of favoritism or undue influence."
Lori rolled her eyes. "Dad. As if everybody doesn't know how many arms you twisted."
He smiled at Mel. "Well, I did say 'appearance', didn't I?"
"Okay," Lori said, "we'll just skip on out to the party then, Mel. You can hook up later."
"She won't have any trouble finding you," Mr. Adler said. "You're sure to draw a crowd." He looked at his daughter. "I'd hoped you might dress a little more conservatively tonight, Lorelei. Given the nature of the occasion."
"I did. As for 'the nature of the occasion'-" She scoffed. "Come on, Dad. I know exactly what kind of girls get invited to this party, and why. It's a livestock competition. And when some alum's kid balks at pledging Dad's old frat, they drag out pictures of the Mixer, and he thinks he's getting a key to the Playboy Mansion. I'm just doing my part." She put a hand on her hip and turned, giving him an over-the-shoulder look and a little wiggle. "Tell me I'm not eye candy. I dare you."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He shook his head. "I don't know how you do it. You're … repellent and seductive at the same time, a walking advertisement for necrophilia. If I were a young pledge, I'd do anything to have you." He sighed and patted her butt. "Go have fun. Try to stay out of trouble."
Roxy glanced at her sister, and found the big redhead looking back. The whole exchange between Lori and her dad was weird and a little creepy, she thought.
Lori led the way past the concierge desk, or whatever it was, and down a long wide hallway busy with people.
"Your dad seems nice," Kat said, still leaning on Joel's arm.
"He's a horn dawg," the Goth girl said without looking back. "He'd jump any of you if you give him the slightest encouragement. Ten dollars says he'll have his hand at the small of Mel's back by the time they reach the door." She took a few steps more. "But he is nice."
"Is your mom …"
"The latest Mrs. Adler is living on the East Coast. They talk on the phone every night and see each other about once a month." She took a few more steps. "She's also nice. Nuclear families aren't for everyone, girlfriends. Dad and Estelle and I are the most functional dysfunctional family you'll ever meet."
Roxy looked down the hall as far as the crowd would allow, which wasn't very; sometimes she hated being short. "Where are we going?"
"Like I said, out back. The house is sited towards the back of the property, but there's plenty of room for a tent. Keeps the plebs from soiling the carpets, I suppose."
Kat looked to Roxy. "'Stay off the grass'."
"Oh," Lori said, "that won't be a problem." She slowed as the crowd in front thickened, and Roxy realized they were at a glass door. They filed through, Kat ducking slightly, and were outside under a canopy, following another wide concrete path. Kat looked out over the crowd. "Wow."
"What?" But then the crowd in front spread out a bit, and she could see. The path led to a white canvas structure the size of a circus tent. Actually, it looked big enough to fit a football field into, stands and all. "Gawd."
"It's not exactly a tent," Lori explained as they passed out from under the canopy and walked through the dappled shade of mature trees. "They just wrapped the tennis courts in canvas and Plexi and put a top on it." Roxy now saw that there were clear plastic panels sewn into the ten-foot walls at regular intervals, made to look like fancy multipaned windows. Behind them, she could see people moving around.
A wide awning hung over the entrance. They stepped under and passed inside.
"Gawd," Roxy said again. The opposite wall was small with distance. There were a thousand people inside, it looked like, but the place still looked half empty. "How many tennis courts has this place got?"
"Four," Lori said. "But they're oversize. You're probably looking at twenty-five thousand square feet under canvas."
Kat stopped, letting the incoming crowd swirl around her and Joel, and surveyed the scenery. "It looks like we're inside a building." The huge floor was covered in blue outdoor carpet. The poles holding up the roof, big enough to string power lines from, were painted white to give the appearance of columns. The fancy window panels let in plenty of light for the guests and the nursery's worth of potted plants breaking up the floor space. Couches and chairs, commercial-grade but upholstered and comfortable-looking, were grouped together at different spots, as were tables and chairs at a large crowded area where Roxy suspected they'd find the bar.
"Yep." Lori started walking. "Especially in the photos. People who've never been here think it's part of the house." She led the way to the other end. "And this, children, is the reason we're here."
They were standing at the edge of an empty dance floor. Wood parquet had been laid in a square about fifty feet on a side, with a raised band platform at one end. Roxy eyed the setup. "Seems kind of small for a hall this size."
"Believe me, it's plenty. The only time it fills up is fifteen minutes out of every hour, when the band goes on break and the DJ takes over."
Roxy looked over the band area, and the instruments set up for play: a smallish drumset, keyboard, a selection of wind instruments in stands. She didn't see any guitars. "Lori. Tell me that's not a, a…"
"Yep. It's an accordion." She smiled at them. "The band is made up of alums with music hobbies, corporate bigshots who secretly wanted to be Bruce Springsteen. Some of them have been playing this gig since nineteen-sixty, and their playlist wasn't current even then. They've added new members and some newer songs over the years, but they didn't improve them. They do a version of 'Like a Virgin' that brings tears to your eyes – and your hands to your ears."
They settled into a tall table by the dance floor, which seemed likely to be the most deserted spot in the room. Joel hit the bar and came back with soft drinks. Roxy perched on a barstool, sipping her Coke over crushed ice and thinking their Girls' Night Out was beginning to look like a bust.
The band arrived, and they were everything Lori promised: four guys in their fifties, who took thirty minutes to tune up – not that anyone grudged it. The music belonged at a mixer in a retirement home. Not a soul stepped on the dance floor for forty-five minutes, and the musicians didn't even seem to notice. The crowd drifted around the floor like smoke in a faint draft, eddying around tables where girls were sitting. The attention of boys, who outnumbered females at this party five-to-one, was the only worthwhile part of the experience; they crowded around the table three deep at times, climbing over each other like puppies in a box for a shot at Kat or Lori or her.
Finally, the band went on break and the DJ took over. The dance floor filled up at the first song. Roxy accepted an offer to dance, breathing a huge sigh of relief, and wriggled her way onto the packed floor with her partner.
-0-
Lori, sitting alone at the table by the dance floor, sighed quietly. Now I know how Kat feels, she thought. Their table had been surrounded for most of the past two-and-half hours by a circle of male admirers. That was nothing unusual at this party; the crowd was only about twenty percent female, and the Chi's had actively sought out the hottest babes on campus and elsewhere to tender invitations, so every girl in the place had a date or a retinue, or both. But the three of them seemed to be getting far more than their share. Even the awful music nearby couldn't keep them away. Possibly it was because 'Fantasy' Fairchild was in their group, out of classes and accessible to hopeful wolves for the first time since she'd come to school. But Lori and Roxanne were handling an unending stream of five-minute daters as well, guys trolling the big hall for strange and easy.
Roxy had disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor at the first break, dancing until the band returned and then rejoining them at the table. At the second break, forty-five minutes ago, she'd done the same – but she hadn't come back. Lori figured she'd found a guy she liked from among the long line of applicants for her attention. Kat had clung to Joel like a little girl at a horror movie whenever a knot of guys pressed close, which Lori thought had pleased as well as flustered the big geek.
Joel had headed off to the bar. Kat had looked over a guy's shoulder to ask her, "Where are the bathrooms?"
"For guys, a row of portables back of the bleachers. For the eye candy, real bathrooms back in the main house. Or if you don't mind the extra walk, the ones in the pool house at the end of the garden path."
"More girl-pampering?"
"They like to see us come back."
Once Lori was alone at the table, the tide of horn dawgs had surged briefly and then receded, leaving her with only two or three boys at a time offering half-clever talk and risqué suggestions. Now, for the first time since she'd sat down, a gap had opened and she was alone. She stood and stretched, resetting a lock of hair at the back of her neck that had found its way out of her bun.
"Lori Adler," a male voice intoned, "you look tasty as black licorice tonight."
Lori smiled, but didn't turn. "Is it Edgar or Ewan?"
"Can't you tell?"
"Not from that lame come-on. It could be either of you."
A pair of hands appeared at her waist. She slapped at them good-naturedly and turned. "Ewan."
The young man facing her was tall, crew-cut, blond, and nicely dressed in an all-black suit and tie; stones glittered at cuffs and tiepin and in a ring on his right hand. "Wrong. It's Edgar."
Lori shook her head. "Nope. Edgar knows better than to get handsy. You just don't learn." She touched a thumb to his lower lip. "Besides, when I split your lip, it left a little scar."
He reached for her hand, and she pulled it back quickly. He tried to look offended as he touched his lip in turn. "You know, that was totally uncalled-for, Lor. It was just a kiss."
"One, you didn't ask. Two, it wasn't just a kiss. You slipped your hand down the back of my pants."
"My hand had a mind of its own, and it knew right where it belonged. The fit was perfect." He smiled crookedly. "You're not still angry, are you? After two years?"
"No, not angry. But not interested, either." She turned to scan the crowd. "Where's your brother?"
"Right behind you." Ewan's twin stepped beside her. His hair was longer, and his suit a dark blue with a lighter shirt and patterned gray tie. "You're looking very nice tonight, Lori. Not that you don't look nice all the time, even when you're wearing black lipstick."
She smiled. "Edgar, would you try to convince your brother he'd be easier to like if he didn't act like he was on the make every second?"
"Only if it starts working for him. As it is, he practically drives them into my arms." Edgar scanned the crowd. "What happened to all your friends? You came in with a flock, I thought."
She looked around again. "Joel's on a trip to the bar. Caitlin's on a trip to the bathroom. Roxanne is MIA, but I'm sure she'll turn up. Melanie is talking to your uncle upstairs about playing for the Mixer next year."
Edgar clapped, five soft reports. Ewan said, "Except for the math professor, you're a stunning group. The photographer asked me to beg you on his behalf for a few shots."
She raised her eyebrows. "Well, sure. I thought he already took some."
Ewan shrugged. "He's having trouble getting your redheaded friend to hold still and face the camera. He's starting to feel like a paparazzi."
"No guarantees. She doesn't like having her picture taken, I don't know why." She looked around for her friends, or even a female she knew whom she could call to for reinforcements against these young wolves. "I presume you're waiting for them to get back so you can pounce. Be warned, Kat's with Joel tonight, and she's not the sort to ditch a date."
Ewan shook his head mock-sadly. "Lori, Lori. You know I'm here just for you. We both are."
She cocked an eyebrow at Edgar. He shrugged, smiling. "It's true. I stay close, hoping someday you'll see what a nice guy I am compared to him."
"I swear," she said, "sometimes it feels like I've been pushing you two away since I was ten."
"Well, you've been beating us up since you were ten. You've only been breaking our hearts since you were thirteen."
The conversation drifted on, Lori trading sallies with the two boys, whom she'd known since she was eight years old, sons of a friend of her father's. They'd been a lot easier to get along with before puberty, she thought. For one thing, she'd been half a head taller than the obnoxious brats, making it easy to settle disputes by shoving their faces in the grass. When that situation reversed at thirteen, the two boys had begun looking at her as if contemplating a wrestling match of another sort; the four-minutes-older brother, Ewan, had pressed her especially hard, and still did, every time they met. She actually thought they were cute, Edgar especially, but she knew that as boyfriends they'd be poison. So she kept them at arm's length and tried to stay friends, and they constantly tested her resolve. It helped that they were both still obnoxious.
On the other side of the empty dance floor, Lori saw a knot of girls looking her way, talking to one another and largely ignoring their orbiting constellation of male satellites. She recognized them from school because they were members of the music academy, although she didn't hang with them. They were the sort who thought of themselves as 'artists' rather than 'performers', and wouldn't dream of risking their careers by joining a garage band like the Sirens. Lori figured most of them would be doing advertising jingles or background music for video games a year after graduation.
Their apparent leader, a svelte wavy-haired blonde with a ruler-straight nose, was the exception. Kimberly Perlman, it was rumored, had had a free ride at Julliard before she'd been booted out at the end of her first year over a scandal involving several married teachers. Lori was ready to believe both particulars of the story. The girl was a musical prodigy, with an astounding singing voice and a mastery of six instruments Lori knew about; Lori would tell anybody that Kim was better on keyboard than she would probably ever be. The slinky blonde had a talent for collecting male admirers, as well, and seemed to enjoy the challenge of adding guys who were already spoken for to her trophy case. She hadn't gotten involved with any husbands at MacArthur, at least none Lori knew of, but she'd collected plenty of other girls' boyfriends. Lori thought that Kim was destined to be rich and-or famous in the world of music, if her little hobby didn't get her hands broken or something.
Kim glanced across the floor at her, spoke a few words to her companions – male and female both - and broke from the herd to head Lori's way. She stepped past Edgar, and the boy stopped talking mid-sentence. "Hey, Lori. Evil outfit."
"Thanks." Lori wondered if Kim had come to steal one of her admirers; perhaps if she mentioned the boys' years-long rivalry over her, the girl might take both. "Enjoying the party?"
"More than I expected, actually," Kim replied, with a brief smile to Edgar, the nearest of the boys. Lori saw him glance at his brother, trying to divvy up the femmes by body language.
Lori said, "Edgar, since you and Ewan are obviously never going to figure it out, I'll tell you. Kim and I are a couple."
"Spoilsport," Kim said. "I was going to see how long it took them to catch on."
"Really?" Ewan appraised the two of them. "If you're going to do something together, can I watch?"
"Okay," Lori said, "we're not a couple. But we're still lesbians. Totally uninterested in men. If you keep pestering us, we'll tell our girlfriends. You have no idea how violent biker dykes can get until you hit on their sweeties."
"I can take a hint," Ewan said. "Girl talk." He caught his brother's eye, and they moved off. "Keep it warm for me, Lor." He touched a thumbnail to his lip. "Totally worth it."
Lori watched him go. "He's so hard to dislike sometimes. Thank God he keeps giving me fresh reasons." She turned to the blonde-haired diva. "What's up?"
Kim lifted a glass to her lips: cut glass, unlike the clear plastic containers in use by the rest of the guests, and filled with ice and an amber liquid Lori was sure hadn't come from the open bar. "Word is, your band might be playing this gig next year."
Lori head-shrugged. "It's possible."
The girl took a sip. "A reference like that could get you enough appearances to make you some real money, and some real notice, if you managed it right. But it would mean ramping up from the once-a-month schedule you play now to a full calendar. There are sure to be conflicts with school or extracurrics. But you don't want to pass up a good gig or, God forbid, cancel, just because one of you can't make it. Have you given any thought to a sub yet?"
"Haven't thought that far ahead," Lori said cautiously. "It's hard enough keeping the roster filled. Who'd want to come to practice and learn our songbook just for the chance to fill in when one of us can't show?"
Kim lifted an eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind. If you stick with weekends for practice and performances." Kim had a concert schedule of her own, mostly weeknight shows in small auditoriums or rented halls, intimate settings for the local in-crowd and their guests, doubtless making a small fortune and collecting offers from record labels. "I don't think it would be too hard to pick up your song list, do you?"
Lori held down an internal grumble; she imagined the disgustingly talented bimbo could digest the Sirens' whole repertoire in a practice session or two. Instead, she tried to figure out what was behind Kim's unusual and generous offer. The girl was no more interested in bar gigs than her friends were; she hadn't answered either of the band's casting calls. "That would be good, I think, but I'll have to talk it over with the others."
The young diva nodded. "So," she said, "Where's the rest of the band tonight?"
Lori watched Kat making her way back from the bathroom through the press. She moved through the mostly-male crowd like an icebreaker, packing oglers up in front and trailing a swirling wake of admirers behind. "Alex is out with her sister. Bobby's camping."
"Hm. He does look like the outdoor type." She sipped her drink. "Is he with anybody right now?"
"His dad and a buddy, I think."
"In the band, I mean." The girl looked at Lori over the rim of her glass. "There's a betting pool, you know. All your names are in the hat. Even one bet marked 'all of the above'. My money's on you."
Lori's ears burned; she was sure she was blushing right through her makeup. "No. Whose business is it anyway?"
"Don't get hot. I've been to a couple of your shows. You guys have any idea how you look on stage together?"
"Well, you should see it from our side of the stage. The women in the crowd are like a pond full of piranhas."
Kim chuckled at that, then glanced at Kat, who had been stopped cold by a picket line of varsity types. One especially large specimen was pressing close, almost elbowing the others out of the way. "Didn't know she was here."
"She's with us." Joel appeared with his hands full of disposable plastic stemware filled with white wine of some sort and passed one to Lori. "It's not Sauvignon Blanc, that's for sure. But it's wet."
"What," Lori said, "they didn't throw open the wine cellar for the plebs?"
"Hardly. I think it came out of a box. Or maybe a drum." He offered one to Kim, but she waved a palm and showed him her glass. Lori took a second one, just to relieve him of the burden.
She glanced back toward her redheaded companion. Kat was chatting with the big jock, and they were both smiling, so maybe a rescue wasn't called for just yet. Kat glanced their way, spoke a few words to her dawg, and headed towards them alone. Joel said, "Mel's not back, I take it?"
"I wouldn't count on her joining the party anytime soon," Lori said. "Those dirty old men will expect to be charmed into a decision, even if they made it before she walked through the door."
Kat joined them, almost brushing against Joel. "Whew." She nodded at Kim. "Hi."
"Kim." The diva offered a hand without waiting for an introduction. "Caitlin, right?" She smiled at Joel. "And you're Melanie's genius brother."
"She's only got one brother, so I suppose so," he said.
Kim tittered as if he'd said something actually funny. "Enjoying the party?"
"I'm enduring the party."
"I know exactly what you mean."
Lori said, "Kat. Who's that guy you were talking with?"
"Gary? He's a student at USC. We didn't get around to his field of study, but he's on the diving team. Ten-meter board."
"Hm," Kim said. "I'll bet he's built like a Greek statue. All those guys are."
"He says he's watched a couple of our games."
Joel frowned "Games?"
"Water polo. He says I have great form."
"Hmph." Lori looked past the big redhead into the crowd. The aqua-jock was still where Kat had left him, watching. "Has he been to a game since they got you a suit that fits?"
Kat shrugged at that, then readjusted her shoulder strap. "It doesn't matter so much for a goalie. I hardly ever have more than my head and neck out of the water."
A few guys drifted their way, introduced themselves, and took up station nearby, waiting for an opportunity to join the conversation. Kat slipped her hand between Joel's side and his elbow and rested it on his forearm. "I hear you're meeting with a headhunter Monday."
Joel offered Kat his untouched glass; she took a sip and gave it back unself-consciously. "Just some IT firm I never heard of. The offer won't be much."
"It's a start." Kat's other hand came to rest on his forearm as well; Lori wondered if the girl knew how possessive she looked. Her grip, combined with nearly a foot of height difference, made Joel look like a pet. "You're on your way."
Kim flicked a glance at the pair, then at Lori before speaking to Joel. "You two are partners, right?"
"Lab partners," Joel said. "Till the end of the semester." He grinned at the big redhead hanging on his arm. "My next one's going to be a huge letdown."
Kat's eyebrows gathered. "I thought you were done with lab classes."
"At work, I mean. I won't take a job that doesn't let me do research. Hopefully I'll be working with people I don't have to carry."
"Again," Kim said with a glance across the dance floor, "I know exactly what you're talking about. Do you ever come to watch the band?"
Joel took a sip from his glass, made a face, and offered it to Kat again. "No. My eardrums suffer enough from the practice sessions in the garage."
Lori said, "I can hurt you."
"Like I said, you already have."
"So, you practice at home? That sounds convenient." Kim went on, "Joel, I know you must be busy getting ready for graduation and the job market, but you should cultivate the arts a little, just to nourish your soul. If not music, then maybe painting and sculpture. I know some people at the Broad, and LACMA too. We could get a private tour."
Shameless, Lori thought. He's got a girl hanging on his arm, and the little bimbo's trying to make a date with him.
"Sounds like fun." Kat sighted on the blonde diva with a look that excluded everyone else in the room; Lori imagined a sniper sighting through a scope. "If Joel can't find the time, maybe we could do something."
"Sure," Kim said without enthusiasm, then looked past Caitlin. "The big hunk from the dive team's still looking at you."
"He could look for a year and never see me," Kat said. She took a sip from Joel's glass and passed it back.
Joel moved his trapped arm slightly. "Trying to make him jealous?"
"Bite your tongue. Hard."
One of the boys surrounding them stepped a little closer. "Kimberly Perlman. I thought I recognized you. I was at your concert two weeks ago at the Rialto. You were incredible."
"Yes," Kim said. "Lori, get back with me on that, will you? Nice to meet you, Kat." She gave Joel a brilliant smile. "Joel, if you ever want to see me perform, just let me know." She left, headed back towards her group, not waiting for her admirer to follow.
"Hmp." Lori watched her go. "I wonder what sort of 'performance' she was offering you."
Kat watched her as well. "What did she want?" Her hands slipped off Joel's forearm.
Lori smiled. So it wasn't all the boys that set off your alarms. "She offered to sub for the band before our growing fame makes bookings a burden."
"What did she really want?"
Bookish she might be, but she's no fool. "Actually, I think she wants a chance to count coup on Bobby." She smiled at Joel. And maybe you, now. She's probably wetting her pants at the idea of stealing 'Fantasy' Fairchild's boyfriend. "She seems to think he's the band toy-boy."
"She's wasting her time," Kat said.
"I don't know." Kim had rejoined the group across the way; a few of them were looking this way and talking together with smug expressions. "She's pretty smooth, I hear. She can take a guy from polite to compromised before he knows what happened."
Kat shook her head. "Not Bobby. There are lines he won't cross, and they're not fuzzy. Expect her to quit coming to practice after a couple weeks."
Gary the Diver Boy watched them for another second, then turned away and merged with the crowd. Lori and Joel watched him go; Kat carefully looked elsewhere.
"I'm not sure that little show had the desired effect," Joel said. "It might just have given him the idea you're approachable. I doubt he really sees me as competition."
"You're not," Kat said. "There is no competition."
Twenty minutes later, Lori was sighing again. Kat and Joel had started talking about schoolwork that had, predictably, moved way past their current curriculum, and light-years beyond Lori's understanding. The hangers-on had drifted away. Not much chance of inserting themselves in this conversation. She finally said, "I wondered how long you two could be together without talking about muons and dark matter. I only understand about one word in ten, and only because that's how often one of you says 'the'."
"Sorry," Kat said. "It's a geek thing. An idea comes into our heads, and we have to chase it down. I promise I won't talk about the evolution of the gravitational constant for the rest of the night."
"Don't sweat it," she said. "Maybe I'll just circulate a little. I know quite a few-"
"Excuse me." A male voice at Lori's shoulder. "You play keyboard with the Sirens, don't you?" Diction so precise it sounded like an accent.
She turned her head to regard the new arrival and got a surprise: the boy standing at her shoulder was definitely not your average horn dawg. Or frat boy. Short black hair, dark complexion, Middle Eastern or Indian, maybe. Face oval rather than round, narrow-featured. Skin smooth, but without that soft shiny appearance people from that part of the world sometimes had, that made you imagine you could rub their cheeks and get oil on your fingers.
She realized he was speaking. "I've been going to your performances since I first saw you at Club Bijou last year. You're all wonderful. Though, I have to say, I think replacing your second guitar was a good move. The blond guy is very good." A slight change in emphasis on the last remark, she thought, as if he wanted to ask something without asking it.
She said, "Are you gay, by any chance?"
He raised his eyebrows and blinked. He had very nice eyes, she decided, dark chocolate in color and big-lashed, almost girl-pretty. His brows were dark and well-defined, not thick or bushy; she wondered if he did anything with them. "That's a very personal question," he said without any sign of embarrassment, "considering we haven't even traded names."
"Just want to know which of us you're interested in." His hair was coarser than hers, and looked a little shaggy, as if he was trying to grow it out. "That's important to get straight right away, don't you think?"
He flicked a glance at Joel and Kat, who'd stopped talking. "On stage, you seem very comfortable together. I was thinking he might be your boyfriend."
She shook her head slightly, not taking her eyes off him. "No. He's cute, and I like him, but he's not for me."
"Good." He offered a hand. "Call me Rej."
"Lori." Hands not baby-soft, but not callused either. He didn't really shake her hand, just closed his hand around hers, the fingertips moving slightly as if he was exploring her skin. "Where are you from, Rej?"
"South Carolina." A corner of his mouth turned up. "But maybe that's not what you're asking?"
"No."
"I'm Persian. My mother and father left Iran a step behind the Shah, they tell me. I was born here." He tilted his head towards the wood floor. "Dance?"
"The band's not done yet." It wouldn't be long. The codgers were playing a slow dance; they always ended each set with two or three, just before they went on break.
"This isn't so bad, really. You should hear what my parents listen to at home. It sounds like a cat trapped in the dryer." He offered a hand.
She slid off her stool. She stood a couple of inches taller than him, but getting out of her boots was a ten-minute job she wasn't prepared to undertake in public. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice. She took his hand. "Lead on."
On the empty dance floor, she slipped her hands around his waist instead of doing the handclasp-and-shoulder thing, and was pleased when he cupped her elbows, letting her choose the distance between them. She said, "You know, it's not bad." The ballad the old boys were playing was strange to her, but the melody was simple and kind of nice; slow tunes required less technical skill, and they were actually handling it rather well.
He nodded. "They do some good slow dances. But, by the time they play them, no one's listening anymore."
"You're a student?"
"Aeronautical engineering. I'd love to help NASA build a better Shuttle. You?"
"Filmmaking. I'd love to do documentaries about, oh, maybe a thousand things."
He smiled. He had even white teeth. "So much for the big dreams. What do you do now? Besides play enchanting music?"
"I paint. I don't exhibit, but sometimes I give them away."
"I'd love to see."
She smiled. "Care to come upstairs and see my etchings?"
His brows gathered. "Etchings?"
She shook her head. "What about you?"
"Nothing in my field. I work part-time in my father's office. He owns a shipping company."
She lifted her eyebrows. "Really."
He nodded. "We ship packages overnight to three states. We even have our own trucks. Is your father a businessman?"
"Yes. He has a shipping company too."
"What a coincidence. I hope we're not in competition."
She forebore to say that her father's shipping company owned actual ships. "I don't think so. He doesn't do overnight deliveries. What about your mom? Does she work?"
"No way. Mother and Father both would be scandalized at the very idea."
"What do they think about America? And Americans?" And American women?
He shrugged. "They've been living here for thirty years with no intentions of ever going back. Naturalized before I was born. They like America. They don't have any trouble getting along with individuals, but they think, in general, Americans never really grow up: they live too much in the moment, with no respect for the past and no regard for the future. I guess 'good-natured contempt' just about covers it."
"Hm." They weren't doing much more than swaying to the music. She turned, testing him; he followed her lead clumsily, taken by surprise, but not resisting. "Rej, are you one of those Middle Eastern guys who acts all liberal and tolerant while he courts a Western girl, and then turns all domineering and possessive once he gets her?"
"Like I said, I was born here."
"Wouldn't matter, necessarily."
He held her eyes. "I would never pursue a woman only to change her. I'd much rather find a perfect one to begin with."
"That can't be easy."
"I don't know. I think sometimes God takes a hand in such things." His eyes dropped from her face. "I wondered if the clothes and makeup were costume, for the stage. But they're not, are they?"
"No. This is what I like. Comment?"
"Unconventional. A little intimidating. But exciting."
She smiled. "It does show a little more skin than usual, but it's that kind of party."
"I wasn't talking about the clothes."
The song ended, and they stood still, still holding each other, waiting to see what would follow; the DJ was due. Neither of them suggested leaving the dance floor. Lori hoped the canned music would start with something slow.
But the old boys, instead of filing off the podium to the bar, seemed to be having a discussion. They reached a decision and stayed in place. She was surprised to see them fiddling with their stand-mounted mikes, bringing the pickups closer to their faces. The guy with the comb-over who manned the keyboard started a slow, simple intro. The drummer stirred his brushes softly over his cans, a sensual sound. The other two men left their instruments on the stands and moved close to their mikes, and one of them began to sing, for the first time all night.
My love must be a kind of blind love…
His voice, scratchy on the first couple of words, mellowed and deepened.
I can't see anyone but you.
The other three leaned into their mikes and said in unison, "Shabop shabop," faces serious as if they were in the middle of a boardroom discussion. "Shabop shabop."
Lori tittered, smiling; Rej smiled and tightened his hold on her, and they swayed gently to the music.
Are the stars out tonight?
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright
Cause I only have eyes
For you, dear
"Your eyes," he said. "Does that color have a name?"
She smiled. "Brown."
"Brown," he said, nodding, as if committing it to memory.
The moon may be high
But I can't see a thing in the sky
I only have eyes for you
"We don't practice," Lori said, "But my dad's family is Jewish." She watched his face carefully.
He watched her with equal care. "And you think this would change something?"
"Wouldn't it?"
I don't know if we're in a garden
Or on a crowded avenue
"Maybe. But we're Christians. Coptic. Another reason my parents left."
"So, it's not a problem?"
You are here, so am I
Maybe millions of people go by
But they all disappear
From view
And I only have eyes
For you.
"It could be." He held her eyes. "The children would have to be raised Christian."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Children?"
"Like you said. It's best to get some things out of the way early."
-0-
"Look at them." Kat watched Lori with the guy who'd maneuvered her onto the dance floor. "Do you think they'd even notice if the music stopped?"
Joel didn't answer. He was watching the couple as they stood holding each other without pressing together, smiling into each other's eyes as they talked. It made him think of the night before with Alex, lying nose-to-nose on the motel bed in Santa Monica after making love. They'd talked for hours. He couldn't remember much of the conversation, but he remembered her voice and her little chuckle and the smell of her hair. And he remembered the look of welcome in her eyes when he'd ended the night's talk by pulling her to him.
"Joel," Kat went on, still watching the dancers, "do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I believe in lust at first sight. Love may follow a while later. That, or homicidal urges."
"Well, I do." The light went out of her eyes as her stare unfocused. "But I don't think it's necessarily a good thing. You can feel hopelessly drawn to someone who's all wrong for you. You can't explain it, but you can't ignore it, even if you never act on it, and it… skews your chance for a relationship with anyone else."
He thought of Bobby Lynch, whom Mel suspected was an ex-boyfriend of Kat's that she hadn't fully let go of, and of Gordie's revelations about Bobby's dark past. A guy like that would be all wrong for Kat, but he drew girls to him like bugs to a zapper, and they were sharing a roof besides. "Knowing it's irrational must help you deal with it, though."
"Rationality has nothing to do with how you feel. It has everything to do with the look in his eye, his smile, his voice, the way his hands explore everything they touch. The…" She stopped. Joel saw two faint spots of color on her cheeks under the makeup. She picked her purse up off the table. "I'm headed for the bathroom. If Roxy shows up, have her wait for me, okay?" She strode carefully in her heels towards the exit like a sailboat headed for the channel.
The song ended. Lori's boyfriend-candidate turned to the band and clapped. Lori joined in. the four geezers beamed like it was the first applause they'd gotten all night – which it was. The DJ moved to his console, and the musicians left. A crowd began to accrete on the wooden floor, and Lori took the guy's hand and led him off, headed towards the table.
"Where is everybody?" Lori asked.
"Kat headed for the bathroom again. She must have a bladder the size of a pea. The other two are still gone." He turned to the Indian-looking guy still holding Lori's hand. "We don't share classes, but I've seen you around."
The guy nodded. He was holding Lori's right hand in his left; he offered his right to Joel. "You're almost done, I'm a freshman. Reginald Fahir. Friends call me Rej."
"Joel." After the shake was over, he went on, "Lori's only got a year left, did she tell you?"
"No." He smiled, and Lori drew a little closer. "It didn't come up."
"So, older women aren't a problem for you?" He avoided looking at Lori's face, sure she was glaring at him. Payback's a bitch, Lor.
"No," Rej said. "No more than taller women are for you."
"Or smarter ones," Lori put in. "But it's a recent improvement. You'll have to try harder than that, Reed."
Rej said, "Reed?"
"Like Reed Richards, from the Fantastic Four." She smiled at her sort-of date. "You know, comic books?"
He frowned. "Surely you don't read comic books. An educated woman like you?"
"Hmph," she said. "Modern comic books aren't all kid stuff, not by a long shot. Some of the artwork is worth hanging. And the writing is as good as anything Burroughs or London or Doyle ever put on paper."
"If you say so." He lowered his eyelashes. "Will you be willing to educate me?"
Lori lowered hers as well. "Only about things you don't already know something about. At least for now."
Joel felt uncomfortable. "Uh, Kat's been gone quite a while. I think I'll take a look around."
At the entrance to the tent, he paused and looked around. In her heels, Kat was topping out at about six-ten, literally head and shoulders above the crowd; even barefoot, she would have been easy to spot. But she was nowhere in sight in the crowd between the big house and the tent. The ladies' room was just inside the door. Red-faced, he asked a girl coming out if a tall redhead was in there, and got a negative. "Unless she's in a stall," the girl said, looking at him like he might be a stalker. He couldn't blame her; he was sure he looked like an unlikely date for any girl at this party. He wondered if she'd tell him the truth if she'd seen Kat in there.
"Thanks," he said, and moved away. Lori had said there were more bathrooms at a pool house elsewhere on the property. He asked a few people, and was soon walking down a landscaped path towards the back of the property, passing between mature trees. The crowd thinned to nothing before he saw the building, an L-shaped brick structure enclosing a good-sized pool on two sides. The place had just a couple of bikini-clad loungers by the pool, and no sign of Kat. Rather than ask directions to the ladies' room, he decided to circle the building once and then go in. He was just approaching the back of the structure when he heard voices.
"I appreciate the invitation, Gary," he heard Kat say. "Your friend's party sounds interesting. Really. But I'm already here, and I'm with friends."
"You'd still be with friends," a guy's voice, coaxing; something about it made Joel think of steroid enhancement. "I'd be with you. And I know everybody'd love to meet you."
Joel rounded the corner. Kat was standing with her back to the wall; the big lug who'd been chatting with her earlier was standing close enough to lay a hand on her without stretching. He leaned closer and started talking again, and Kat blinked a couple of times. His eyelids had that heavy, droopy look that sometimes comes from one too many brewskis; Joel figured his breath must be drying her eyes out. "Come on. Let's blow this joint and have some fun."
"Gary, I met you less than an hour ago, and we talked for five minutes. We're not friends. We're barely acquaintances. Thanks, but no." She stepped sideways along the wall, moving to rejoin the party.
"Whoa, wait a minute." He put an arm out and leaned against the wall, barring her way. "You don't want to leave."
Without any thought or hesitation, Joel walked up on them. He put a hand on the guy's tree-like bicep. "You heard her, buddy. Why don't you find a girl who's interested? How hard could it be?"
Without looking his way, the big gorilla swung his forearm and shoved Joel away. He stumbled backwards and almost fell. "Go back to the punchbowl, geek. We're trying to have a conversation."
Joel felt a weird mix of embarrassment and anger. Then Kat's face clouded, and apprehension crowded out everything else. He was sure she was about to do something, and Joel was afraid it would be something she'd regret later. He stepped forward again, ready for a split lip or worse if he could just get her away from here.
"The conversation's over," Lori said. She stepped past Joel and came up behind the hulk to tap his shoulder. "She said she's not interested, King Kong. Get out of here before you embarrass yourself any more."
"You should talk, corpse bride. Your old man's been telling people you're adopted." He turned back to Kat. "It's getting crowded. And noisy. What say we go someplace quiet, before I have to shut somebody up."
Kat nodded stiffly. Down at her side, her right fist opened and closed a couple of times, as if she was pumping up a vein for a needle. "Someplace quiet. Just us two."
The big lug grinned. If the guy had a molecule of sense, Joel thought, he would have taken one good look at her face and stepped back.
But Kat's eyes widened in surprise when Gary jerked upright as if he'd just been goosed. Joel heard a crackling sizzle. "Huuh!" Gary leaned forward stiffly, and Kat stepped aside as he thumped the wall with his forehead. He dropped to his knees and bent double, upper arms tight to his sides and forearms sticking out in front like T-Rex arms, until his head almost touched the concrete. "Ahh. Ah, Jesus."
Lori returned the stun gun to her purse and zipped it shut. "I am adopted," she said lightly, as if she was just making conversation. "And if you think any girl looks like me comes to a frat party unarmed, you're dumber than you look. And that's saying something."
"Bitch," he squeezed out.
Lori opened the zipper again, looking at Gary's upraised rump with cool eyes. "That earns you one in the crotch."
"No." Kat grabbed her arm and pulled her away. She hooked Joel's elbow as she went by, and steered them all down the path towards the main house. "Joel, what were you doing? It looked like you were about to tackle him."
"Yeah, Reed." Lori's lips curved in a smile. "What were you doing?"
"I thought I might keep him busy long enough for her to get away."
"And why," she pressed, "would you do that?"
"Well…" He fumbled for words as Caitlin towed him along. "Because… Oh, for cripes sakes."
"Just say it," Lori said gently. "It only hurts the first time, Reed, promise."
"She's my friend," he said.
Kat hugged his arm a little tighter. "Thanks, both of you, but I didn't need the rescue. I can take care of myself."
"Hmp." Lori glanced back; Joel and Kat did likewise. Gary was just getting to hands and knees, wobbling. "You're a big girl, Kat, but he still had fifty pounds on you. And it didn't look like he was going to take 'no' for an answer."
"Bobby's dad is very big on self-defense training for girls," the big redhead said. "He'd have taken 'no' for an answer."
Joel looked at Lori. "How'd you find us?"
"I just remembered who I was looking for. Of course she'd use the most out-of-the-way bathroom she could find."
"I'm getting worried about Roxy," Kat said, opening her purse. "I haven't seen her in hours. Some of these guys are turning obnoxious, and I'm not sure how she'd handle a pushy guy right now."
A phone chimed. Caitlin reached into her purse and flipped it open. "Hello?" She stopped, bringing Joel and Lori to a halt. "I was just about to call. Where are you?" She listened, and her eyes widened. "Roxy…" She took the phone away from her ear and stared at it a moment.
"Kat," Lori said, "what's wrong?"
The big redhead put her phone away, her lips thinned to a line. "She's gone."
36
