Beautiful Disaster

by Kate Brian

  "Like Tahira would ever dare order you around," Palmer said with a smirk.

  "True," Lexa said blithely. "But still. You both owe me."

  Ariana filed this exchange away to dissect later. Why would Tahira order everyone around except Lexa?

  "Fair enough," Palmer replied. He gave Lexa a kiss, then turned to look at Ariana. "So, you'll meet up with the team at the boathouse tomorrow at five. Don't be late."

  Ariana groaned under her breath. Five o'clock. Fab. Not only did she have to be up at the crack of dawn, but she had a French exam at eight. She knew she should decline, more firmly this time, but one look into Palmer's eyes and she couldn't do it.

  Palmer gave Lexa a last squeeze, then walked away, his arm grazing Ariana's as he passed by her, and she felt a rush of giddy triumph.

  This time, at least, he had chosen her.

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  A CHALLENGE

  Ariana couldn't have been happier when she saw the red slip in her mailbox that afternoon, indicating she had a package to be picked up at the window. Her toes tapped with impatience as the elderly gentleman behind the counter took his dear sweet time finding it, but she smiled when she was presented with a large FedEx box with some serious heft. Briana Leigh's maid had come through. There would definitely be something in here she could use to help her "reminisce" with Lexa about Camp Triple Star. As she emerged from the APH post office, a content smile played on her lips. Tonight she would study Briana Leigh's horsey past. Right after she ran a small errand.She had an old friend to kill.

  "What are you so smiley about?"

  Ariana froze. Tahira strolled up behind her wearing a set of body-hugging tennis whites, a hot pink Adidas tennis bag over her shoulder.

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  "As if you care," Ariana said lightly, tilting her head.

  Tahira laughed. "You're so right. I truly don't." She started to walk on by, but paused and looked Ariana up and down. "I heard you joined the tennis team. I was just about to go hit some balls off the machine, but I always prefer a living, breathing victim. Fancy a game or two?"

  For a moment, Ariana hesitated, wondering if she could fit it all in--a tennis match, studying for her French exam, getting off campus again and up to Dupont Circle, doing away with Kaitlynn, and getting back in time to go through her box of B.L. memorabilia. But then she realized that the longer she hesitated, the more likely it was that Tahira would think she was intimidated. Which she definitely wasn't.

  Besides, a little exercise might help clear her mind, get her focused for the task ahead of her at the Palomar Hotel.

  "Why not?" she said finally.

  "Good. Go get your racket and meet me over at the courts," Tahira instructed.

  Ariana hesitated. When she'd gone shopping for her new life, she hadn't purchased a stitch of athletic equipment, something she was really going to have to remedy now that she had claimed to Lexa that she was a runner and had joined the tennis team. She glanced at Tahira, knowing the kind of reception her announcement was going to get, and dreading it.

  "Actually, I . . . I'm still waiting for my grandmother to ship me a few things," she lied.

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  Tahira's jaw dropped. "You didn't bring your racket?"

  Ariana's face burned. "I--"

  "Whatever. You can borrow one of the school's." Tahira scoffed, utterly amused, and started down the sunlit pathway toward the gym and playing fields. "This should be a piece of cake."

  "My point!" Ariana called over the net, turning to stride back to the baseline. She was wearing mesh APH shorts and a white T-shirt she'd bought spur-of-the-moment at the school store, along with a pair of cross-training sneakers she had borrowed from Maria. The shoes, unfortunately, were a size too big, which had caused her to trip and miss a point more than once.

  "Oh, please! That was out!" Tahira shouted back.

  Ariana turned on her heel and stared at Tahira, her jaw hanging open. The girl had to be joking. "That shot was on the line!"

  "It so was not!" Tahira yelled, pointing her racket toward the sideline where Ariana's shot had hit. "It was like two inches out!" She turned to look at Rob, who, along with a few other classmates, including Maria, Brigit, Soomie, and Lexa, had shown up early in the second set to watch the proceedings. "Baby, wasn't that ball totally out?"

  Rob, looking like a tool in his pink polo shirt with one side of the collar flipped up, swallowed hard and glanced at Ariana. His hesitation spoke volumes. Ariana laughed. "See? My point."

  Tahira let out a frustrated screech.

  "No, wait!" Rob said. "I didn't say that--"

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  "Forget it! Fine!" Tahira said, storming over to the baseline. "Whatever. Your point."

  "It's nice that you're such a good sport about it," Ariana shot back, earning a few laughs from the small crowd in the stands. Brigit laughed the loudest.

  Tahira's jaw clenched and she kept her gaze trained on Ariana, refusing to acknowledge the spectators. She got in her return stance, bent at the waist and swaying side to side.

  "Just serve," she snapped.

  Ariana smiled at Tahira's impatience, then decided to milk it. She bounced the ball a few times, jogging in place, pretending to be mulling her next move. Really she was marveling over the fact that this match had so far been a cakewalk. Tahira was a good player, but she wasn't great. She had taken the first set, but Ariana was well on her way to taking the second. And she hadn't played in a good three years. Well, except for that one match against Briana Leigh back in Houston, but that had been even yummier, easier-to-swallow cake than this match.

  Even though, in the end, she had let Briana Leigh win.

  Which she had only done because, at the time, she had been certain that Briana Leigh was a murderer--a murderer whose ire she did not wish to incite just because of a tennis match. Of course that had turned out not to be true. Kaitlynn was the murderer. Briana Leigh had been nothing but an innocent orphan.

  And I killed her. I killed her because Kaitlynn turned me against her.Suddenly, Ariana saw Briana Leigh's face again. Her happy smile

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  that day as they volleyed. Her cliché fist pump whenever she won a point. The little dance she did when the match was over.

  And then her bloated face the day they pulled her from the lake. Her hair matted with mud and muck and leaves. Her limp form as they lifted her onto the boat.

  The ball bounced up. Ariana's fingers closed around it and squeezed.

  "Oh my God, enough with the Djokovic act! Serve the damn ball!"

  Ariana cleared her throat. The sun had dipped behind Tahira, throwing her into shadow and blinding Ariana. She felt hot. Hot and sick and light-headed.

  Stop it. Stop thinking about it.

  "You've got this, Ana!" Lexa cheered.

  Ariana tossed the ball in the air and served. It hit in the center of the box and arced slowly toward her opponent. Tahira slammed it back over the net so fast Ariana never had a chance.

  "Yes!" Tahira shouted. There was a smattering of applause from the crowd.

  Ariana turned and walked over to the fence to grab another ball. Her vision was blurry as she stared down at her feet, the yellow and white sneakers against the green court. In her mind she could hear Briana Leigh cheering her own points. Laughing over her victory. Saying they'd play again. She'd give Ariana another chance.

  "You can do it, Ana!" Brigit cheered.

  Ariana bent down to grab a ball and had to brace her hand on the fence to keep fromgoing

  over.

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  Dead. Dead. Dead because of me.

  "What are you doing? Faking sick?" Tahira taunted her. "You're not going to get out of this that easily."

  Ariana took in a breath.

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  Out, one. . . two . . . three...

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  She grabbed the ball and stood up, trying to let Tahira's teasing get under her skin. Trying to use it in some
way. Trying to let it make her angry. She turned around and looked at her nemesis.

  "Come on, transfer girl! Serve!" Tahira said.

  Ariana strode over to the baseline. She could do this. Schooling this girl would be so much fun. It was the whole reason she'd accepted this challenge in the first place. To get relaxed. Get focused. Get her head clear for what she had to do tonight.

  Tonight she would avenge Briana Leigh's death. Tonight she would ensure her own future.

  She tossed the ball in the air and served. It went way wide. Tahira laughed and tossed the ball back to her.

  "Please, please double-fault! If you do I win this game!" Tahira sang out.

  I will not double-fault. I will not double-fault. I will not double-fault.

  Ariana served. Double fault. Tahira's friends laughed and cheered as Tahira tossed her racket in the air, end-over-end, and caught it.

  "My serve," she said. "This is where you go down."

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  Ariana felt the fight draining out of her. Her confidence was gone, fear and doubt creeping in to take its place. She wished she had never set yes to this match. Wished she could rewind her day to that moment on the quad and just say no. Because the last thing she needed on this particular day was to suffer the humiliating defeat she was about to endure.

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  ONE TASK

  Ariana was still feeling the sting of her loss as she walked through the modern lobby of the Palomar Hotel that night. The trendy spot was buzzing with activity even though it was past midnight, with twenty-something partiers having just returned from some fete or other, all drunk and messy and loud. Ariana had dressed to blend in a pair of slim black pants and a gray ballet-neck top, her hair pulled back in a low bun, zero makeup on her face. As she approached the long line at the front desk, she told herself to remain calm. If she allowed herself to grow impatient, if she snapped in any way, all it would do was make her easier to remember later, when the police started asking questions. She couldn't have that. She couldn't let it all fall apart just because of some stupid tennis match.She would take Tahira down sooner or later. That was certain. All she had to do was focus on that fact and she would be fine.

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .142

  Out, one. . . two . . . three...

  This was not the perfect situation. Not by any means. Tomorrow morning some maid would find the dead body of fugitive Kaitlynn Nottingham in a hotel room reserved under Briana Leigh Covington's name. She would definitely be interviewed. Someone might even recall having seen her in the lobby on this night. The risks were huge. But they were risks she had to take. Kaitlynn had threatened her very existence, so Kaitlynn had to go.

  Ariana bit her tongue as a drunken twentysomething with too much stubble almost slammed into her. She slipped by him without a word and kept walking, telling herself that the crowd was actually a good thing. It would make the security tapes more difficult to sift through. When she finally reached the front of the line, Ariana smiled in a perfunctory way at the man behind the counter.

  "I'm Briana Leigh Covington. I misplaced the key to my room and I'd like another, please."

  When the police came to Atherton-Pryce Hall, she would tell them she had never been to the Palomar. That of course Kaitlynn had used her name and stolen her credit card number--the girl was always obsessed with her. Everyone knew this. It was documented in every newspaper article that had been written about Briana Leigh's father's murder.

  The front desk clerk hit a few keys on his computer without a word. Then he studied the screen for a moment, and smiled. "Of course, Miss Covington. Room five thirty-two." He produced a key card and handed it over, already on to the next task before Ariana had

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  even slipped it from his fingers. She smiled to herself as she turned away from the desk. Forgettable. Exactly the way she wanted it.

  Knowing there were always security cameras mounted in hotel elevators, Ariana opted for the stairs. She took them slowly, deliberately, to the fifth floor, making sure not to get winded. Not like she'd been on the tennis court. So gaspy and blotchy and sweaty. She got a sour taste in her mouth just thinking about those last few games in the second, and what turned out to be the final, set. The serves whizzing past her, the volley that ended with Ariana stretched out on the ground, diving for a ball she could never have hit. Tahira and her crew were going to be merciless tomorrow. Damn Briana Leigh. Damn Kaitlynn. Ariana knew she could have taken the girl. She was sure of it.

  It wasn't until she arrived outside the door to room 532 that Ariana realized she hadn't thought once about what she was here to do. Not since she'd left the lobby, anyway. She paused and shook her head, banishing all thoughts of Tahira and her triumphant, smug face. It was time to focus. This wasn't just some tiny errand she was about to run. What happened on the other side of this door was going to determine the course of her entire future.

  Ariana's breath caught and she curled her fingers into fists, her right hand closing around the edges of the flat key card.

  You can do this. Just get it over with. Get it over with and you'll be free.

  But don't screw it up, or you're dead.

  Ariana closed her eyes and breathed.

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  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  Out, one. . . two . . . three...

  In, one . . . two . . . three . . .

  Out, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  She opened her eyes and was ready. The key slot made a low beeping sound as the door unlocked. Ariana winced. Luckily, Kaitlynn had always been a deep sleeper back at the Brenda T. Unless that, too, had been an act. Still, better safe than sorry. Ariana grasped the cold metal handle of the door and opened it as quietly as humanly possible.

  The room was dark, save for a sliver of light coming through a crack in the blackout curtains across the way. Ariana felt a thrill of excitement at her luck. Kaitlynn hadn't decided to stay up to watch some pay-per-view movie or other. She was asleep. Ariana had been hoping for this. It would make the whole thing so much easier. Less struggle. Less mess. Less chance of being caught in the act.

  As Arianas eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw that the closet door was open. Another stroke of luck. She grabbed one of the extra pillows off the top shelf and gripped it in both hands. Her heart started to pound and she felt sweat beads popping up along her hairline and above her upper lip.

  Ariana savored her adrenaline. She would need it to help her overpower Kaitlynn, who was slightly bigger and probably stronger than she was. If she could just harness her anger, this could all be over in a matter of minutes. All she had to do was stay strong, stay focused, for that long. Then she would be free.

  Tiptoeing ever so carefully, Ariana approached the bed. She could

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  see the outline of Kaitlynn's slumbering form, turned on her side, away from the door. Suddenly, Ariana started to feel light-headed, and she realized she had no idea how long it had been since she'd last breathed.

  In, one. . . two . . . three...

  Out, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  Out, one. . . two . . . three...

  Much better. She was at the very side of the bed now. Mere inches from Kaitlynn. Her fingers gripped the pillow even tighter.

  Just think of the freedom. Do this and no one can touch you.

  She took a deep breath, held it, and lunged. The pillow was about an inch from Kaitlynn's head when suddenly something wrapped around Ariana's neck from behind and jerked her back. Ariana tried to shout out in surprise, but her larynx was crushed and all that came out was a strangled choke. The pillow was wrested from her hands as her feet left the floor and she kicked out in a panic, taking down the bedside lamp with a crash. Still, the pressure on her throat only intensified. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Couldn't shout for help. Ariana grasped for her throat and realized there was an arm clamped around her neck like a vise. She tried
to pry it loose, but all she could do was grasp in vain. Her vision began to blur over and she realized she was about to pass out. Then she was flung to the floor, the side of her head colliding with the corner of the dresser.

  Pain radiated through her body as Ariana heaved for breath on all fours. The pillow she'd put so much faith in was tossed at her head

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  and bounced off, coming to rest on the floor. The lights flicked on overhead, temporarily blinding her.

  "Nice try, Ariana," Kaitlynn said. "But you're not going to get rid of me that easily."

  Ariana's brain struggled for logic as she coughed painfully into the violet carpet. She pulled in a breath through her nose and sat back on her knees. Kaitlynn hovered over her, fully dressed in her punk-girl gear. Ariana looked at the bed, her neck muscles straining. Under the covers was a life-size stuffed doll. If there had been one more ounce of light in the room, Ariana would have realized it. Kaitlynn had tricked her. Again.

  "You may be smarter than I thought, but you're not smarter than me," Kaitlynn said, sitting down on the corner of the mattress and patting Ariana on the back like a dog. "Nice touch getting me to put the room in your name so you could get the key, though. You do think ahead, I'll give you that."

  Ariana sat back on her butt and finally got control of her breathing. She placed her hands on either side of her head, cupping her scalp. Every inch of her, save her burning throat, was numb. She had failed. Just like that. Two minutes ago her entire life was an open, endless book just waiting to be written. All she'd had to do was complete this one task. But she had been careless. Had thought herself lucky. Had gotten comfortable. And now, it was all over.

  "So what are you going to do?" she asked, staring at Kaitlynn's horrid shoes. "Kill me?"

  Kaitlynn let out a deep, throaty laugh. "I kill you and I get nothing,"

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  she said. "No, no, no. I'm going to keep you around, Ariana. We had a deal and you are going to make good on your part." She reached down, grabbed Ariana around her upper arm, and yanked her off the floor. Ariana had never felt so defeated. So humiliated. So stupid and lost and alone. Kaitlynn opened the door with her free hand, then shoved Ariana through it into the brightly lit hallway. If Ariana had a modicum of self-respect left, of hope, of pride, she might have resisted or struggled or fought back. But she just went limp. Kaitlynn stood in the doorway of her posh hotel room, looked Ariana up and down, and scoffed derisively. "Now let me spell it out for you in terms you'll understand. Get me. My effing. Money. You have until Friday." Then she let the heavy door slam right in Ariana's face.