The phone buzzed right back. Anytime.
Dex watched me. "Let me see exactly what he said."
I flipped the phone around for Dex to read.
Dex's expression changed from smug to serious and sympathetic. "He's taking it well."
I frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"
"I found something else, Ellie." He took a deep breath. "There's really no way to say this. Dr. Rogers wasn't just making and selling GHB. She was using it on male students she thought were hot. I found pictures on her computer and in her desk. Of college guys. Naked college guys."
As the implication sank in, I felt lightheaded.
Dex took my hand again. "Hang in there. Take slow, even breaths."
I tried to focus on him.
"Along with the drug charges, she was arrested on over a dozen counts of drug-facilitated sexual assault."
Something about Dex's sympathetic tone and the way he was looking at me tipped me off.
The way Dr. Rogers ogled Logan when he came to fix the projector. His stiff manner. How he didn't look at her.
"Oh my God. Oh my God, Dex."
He squeezed my hand. "I know."
"Logan?" His name came out as almost just a breath. My eyes filled with tears. I felt guilty for pushing Logan. I wanted to hold him and tell him it was all right. I was overwhelmed with guilt for thinking he would ever willingly touch Dr. Rogers.
Dex nodded, confirming my fear. "I didn't see his picture. But given the evidence, I assume so." He squeezed my hand again. "The university IT department, including Logan and your boss Jason, has been helping with the investigation."
"Can guys…" I trailed off, unable to get the words out and trying not to picture it.
"Yes, Ellie. They can. Did you just collect the beer magnet and the condom and not pay attention during those stupid mandatory campus Sex, Booze, and Reality Checks? Sexual assault is any non-consensual sexual contact. Or any contact where drugs or alcohol impair judgment or consent."
"But the drugs don't…" I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
"Guys can still perform."
"I have to see him—"
Dex shook his head and kept his grip on my hand. "Give him time, Ellie. Being sexually assaulted isn't any easier for guys than girls. There's the sense of shame and guilt, the emasculation.
"He doesn't know you know. He doesn't even know what you originally suspected him of. Let him tell you when and if he's ready." Dex suddenly grinned and his tone became teasing. "Bet you're glad now you listened to me when I told you not to confront him."
Dex was such a back-patter and full of self-congratulations. It would have been annoying if he hadn't been absolutely right and such a good friend. He had warned me off from blowing things with Logan permanently.
"You're right. I absolutely do. Thank you."
For the first time ever, he almost looked embarrassed. "Let Logan tell you about it in his own time. If he ever wants to tell you. The cops seized Dr. Rogers' computers and drug paraphernalia. That bitch is going away for a long time."
Dex looked over my shoulder, recognized someone, smiled, and waved at a person behind me. "Dad! Over here."
I turned to look as Dex popped out of his seat. A wiry, middle-aged man with stylish glasses and a thin rim of graying hair approached, hugged Dex, and slapped him on the back. Like father like son, I thought. Dex was simply a younger version of his dad. Seeing them together was actually heartwarming and adorable.
Dex turned to me. "Dad, this is my best friend Ellie."
Best friend? Okay, those stupid tears threatened to come back.
"Ah, the partner in crime." His dad took my hand and shook it vigorously. "Dex has told me all about you and your baking." He winked conspiratorially. "Don't worry, Ellie. Our cooperation guarantees your immunity and anonymity. No repercussions. Ever. And sadly, no public glory." He laughed.
"Thank you for your part." I choked up.
He turned to Dex. "You sure know how to pick gorgeous study partners. I trained you well."
"Dad."
Dex was actually blushing.
Chapter Seventeen
I went back to my dorm room, stunned by the events of the day and jumpy because those damned paternity results could come back at any minute. At the same time, I wanted to run to Logan and just hold him in my arms, somehow communicate that I loved him no matter what before my mysterious past blew us apart.
At this point I didn't know whether I'd be more relieved if Jason was my father or not. If he wasn't, we could all go on as if nothing had happened and Logan would never have to know about this episode. But I'd be fatherless and sisterless again and clueless as to whom my real dad could possibly be. Maybe in the end that was less complicated.
Logan's aversion to Chem 202 made perfect sense now and so did his reasons for not talking or thinking about it. And why he thought that after the semester was over we might have a chance. Once I was out of the evil bitch's class, we could put it behind us.
I heard male dad-type voices in the hall outside my room. More and more dads were arriving every minute. Logan's dad would be here soon. As Logan's fake girlfriend, it was my job to impress him. Logan had said my natural self would be enough. I had my doubts.
I looked in the mirror and studied myself. The reflection looking back at me was fresh-faced and natural, but not stellar. Not a gorgeous, head-turning beauty like my mother. And then there was that nasty scar on my cheek. I tried to console myself—we're all scarred in some way. I would do what I always did—hide it.
I didn't know Logan's dad at all, and when I thought about him, I got angry at him for favoring Logan's brother Caleb the baseball star. But I was damn well going to impress him for Logan's sake. For all her horrendous faults, my mom knew how to charm men. She'd tried to teach me her tricks and I'd rebelled. That didn't mean I hadn't learned a few of them in spite of myself.
I glanced at the clock. I had nearly the full day to turn myself into something presentable. I went to my closet and looked past the rows of hoodies, jeans, and tennis shoes to my skirts and dresses. I found my brand new short black and white polka dot dress with the short flouncy skirt, spaghetti straps, and heart-shaped neckline that showed off my cleavage. Then I dug past my collection of tennis shoes for my heels and found the perfect pair of three-inch black heels with straps that tied up my legs. The combination of the dress and heels made my legs look long and sexy.
I looked at my ragged, unpolished nails. My toenails were in worse shape. I needed a mani and a pedi. And a trim. I hadn't had a haircut since before school started. I should have thought of all this earlier, but I'd been in the depths of depression, assuming the weekend was off. But now making a good first impression mattered. I grabbed my cell and started calling salons.
Six hours later, I studied myself in the mirror again. If there was one thing my mother taught me, it was that long hair turns men on. Most women get ready for a date by pinning it up. I listened to her advice and styled my hair in loose, flowing waves.
My nails were done and perfect. I was wearing my sexiest perfume and I'd applied my makeup using every technique I'd watched dear old mom use over the years. My scar was well concealed. I still wasn't a supermodel by any means, but at a quick glance I thought I could turn a head or two.
I waited nervously for Logan's text that they were on their way. He hadn't specified where we were going to dinner, except a casual mention that his dad had made reservations at his favorite restaurant, someplace expensive.
When my phone finally played Logan's ringtone, I jumped.
On our way.
I grabbed my cute black evening purse and my dressy black wool coat with the flared skirt and the tie around the waist. When Nic and Taylor saw it they were envious, calling it my Kate Middleton coat.
I waited for Logan and his dad in the lobby, heart racing and time going by at a crawl. Dad after dad and person after person came in before Logan finally appeared with the older man from the pictu
re in his room with him. I had eyes only for Logan. I, the fake girlfriend, was throwing everything I had into this. I needed him to know I wasn't holding a grudge. I'd really forgiven him.
"Logan!" I ran to him, threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately. Showily. Gave him a real movie kiss, the kind that makes the audience sigh, then smiled up at him and pushed a lock of hair away from his face.
"Wow, El, you look gorgeous." With my lipstick on his lips and his hands on my waist possessively, he looked hot. And relieved. Happy.
I almost told him not to sound so surprised, but the way he said "gorgeous" thrilled me. With his hands on my waist and the way he was smiling at me, the world collapsed to just the two of us.
I wiped my lipstick off his lips gently with my fingertips. "Thanks." I grinned at him. "Pink's not your color."
"She certainly is exuberant."
Logan turned to his dad. "Dad, this is Ellie Martin, the girl I've been telling you about."
Even with the stress of introducing me to his dad, Logan seemed more relaxed than I'd seen him in months.
I smiled at his dad and extended my hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker. I've heard so much about you." Not much of it good, I could have added.
Rather than shaking, he took my hand and clasped it between his, looking me in the eye. "Please, call me Harlan." He had a commanding voice, a penetrating gaze, and a force of personality that might have been charisma if he chose to turn on the charm.
What he was looking for in me, fault? Did he think I was good enough for his son, or had he made a snap decision that his son had made another dumb mistake? Like choosing to trust a perverted cougar of a professor.
I made up my mind. I had nothing to lose by defending Logan and raising his estimation in his father's eyes. If that were even possible. I didn't care. At the first opportunity, I was giving it my best shot. This evening together was a fantasy that could all be blown apart at any minute. I was determined to throw my all at it. Make it another perfect memory to hold on to if I had to.
His father released my hand. I grabbed Logan's, threading my fingers through his and squeezing.
"We better get going," Harlan said. "We're parked in the loading zone."
I wanted to sit in the backseat and snuggle with Logan. Harlan insisted I sit in the front seat and make small talk with him. "Logan tells me you don't have a father."
That was direct. I glanced over my shoulder at Logan in the backseat for help. Mouthing "What have you told him?" He shrugged and grinned.
I turned around. "Yes, that's right. I was raised by a single mom."
"That's admirable. She must be a strong woman."
I was almost positive he was baiting me. I shrugged it off and went for broke. Logan had said not to hide who I was. "Not really. She had help from time to time. I've had three stepfathers." I laughed. What else could I do, really?
Harlan was looking at the road, maneuvering his way through throngs of dads and kids and traffic. I thought he set his jaw.
"Is that right? Must have been tough on you?"
"I wouldn't choose it for someone else, but you learn to live with what you're dealt. What else can you do?"
He glanced at me, looking baffled, like it wasn't the answer he'd expected. But I think I went up a notch in his estimation. "You've never met your dad?"
I bit my lip. This was exactly the question I had been afraid would come up. I was forced to either lie or hedge. Every lie I told felt like another wedge between Logan and me. I hedged. "Not to my knowledge." I laughed again.
"Not to your knowledge?" It was clear Harlan didn't intend to be distracted or let anything slip by.
I got the feeling he enjoyed having the upper hand in every situation. Putting people on the defensive was part of his strategy.
I smiled in the way my mom did when she was being charming and tried to imitate her tinkling laugh and her way of turning things back. "That's exactly right. Mom never told me who he is. I could have met him at any time and never known I was talking to my dad."
"Aren't you curious about him?"
"Curiosity wouldn't do me any good. Mom won't tell. But judging from Mom's taste in men, I have a pretty good idea of what he's like. And I'm not sure I want to meet him." I laughed like it was a joke and changed the subject. "How was your drive over the Cascades? They can be treacherous this time of year."
Harlan had chosen the best restaurant in town, which didn't mean it was five-star by Zagat standards, but it was the best the small town had to offer. The parking lot was busy. We had to cruise for a spot. Eventually Harlan found one on the street. Logan took my hand. We walked in the cold, our breath white and wispy against the clear night sky as we walked the half-block to Ricco's.
Although Ricco's was packed, we got right in and were seated at a prime table by a window. The lights were low. A candle flickered on the table next to a vase full of fresh fall flowers. I sat next to the window and Logan. Logan's dad sat across from us. He ordered a plate of appetizers for the table and a beer each for him and Logan. I ordered water.
"Cheap date." Harlan almost smiled at me.
I couldn't tell if he was insulting me or not.
"Ellie, has Logan told you about his younger brother Caleb? He plays baseball for the Chicago Cubs."
"Yes." I put my hand on Logan's arm and smiled at him. "Logan's really proud of him. He has Caleb's jersey framed and hanging in his room. Very impressive."
Harlan lit up. "Caleb had a hell of a season this year…"
He launched into a one-sided brag-fest about Caleb that lasted through appetizers, the salad course, and a second round of beers, interrupted only once when the waiter took our order.
I didn't know how Logan took it so patiently, nodding and smiling and making the appropriate murmurs of praise, agreement, and near idol worship for the great and mighty Caleb the fave. Harlan's enthusiasm, passion, and blatant preference for Caleb were so obvious I swore the waiter noticed it and shot Logan a sympathetic look.
Given the unfortunate accident that had taken Logan's dreams from him, Harlan's behavior seemed especially insensitive and boorish. With each new boast about Caleb, I felt Logan stiffen and a little bit of the life and fun of the evening leave him. Harlan seemed almost genetically incapable of asking about Logan's life. It was like Logan didn't even exist except to praise his brother.
By the time our entrées arrived, I'd had enough. I let the waiter grate a pile of cheese on my ravioli of autumn squash with balsamic vinegar and broke into the conversation, determined to take it over on my own terms. "Did Logan tell you he saved my life?"
"El—" Logan said, shaking his head subtly.
Harlan frowned. "You did?"
I smiled at Logan and gave his arm a squeeze. "He did. He's just being modest. He saved me from drowning at the cliffs."
Before Harlan could interrupt, I launched into the whole tale, making Logan the hero he was to me. Remembering brought tears to my eyes. The love I felt for him welled up.
"You went cliff diving again." Harlan's voice was hard. "I thought I made myself clear—cliff diving is too dangerous. Especially given your weak shoulder."
Logan stiffened.
A less angry me might have cowered and felt like I'd really stepped in it. But I had nothing to lose, really. I went ballistic. Without thinking, I pounded the table so hard the water glasses bounced and the ice in them tinkled, highlighting my point.
"Are you such an ass that you can't hear what I just said?"
Harlan's eye went wide. It was clear he wasn't used to being contradicted or called out. Or being called an ass.
"Saving my life is a big deal! Especially to me. And you just acted as if it doesn't matter at all that I'm alive and well. Because of your son.
"You should be bursting with pride. Saving a life is much more important than being able to catch a stupid baseball. But that's all you think about." I spat the words out with every venomous feeling I'd harbored toward Harlan. "It'
s time you grew up and got past living your own failed athletic aspirations through one son and realize you have two. Being proud of one doesn't mean you can't be proud of the other at the same time." I glared at him.
Next to me, Logan was silent. But his silence couldn't stop me.
"Keep this behavior up and you're going to lose the tenuous, totally not-so-great relationship you have with Logan now. Blatantly preferring one son to another is, like, one of the worst things a parent can do."
I pointed my finger at Harlan, letting all the frustrations of dealing with all of my bad stepdads roll out. "Want to know another great thing your son did?" I took a deep breath and went for broke. "He and Jason, our boss, just helped the police crack the case against my perverted, nasty chemistry professor, Dr. Rhonda Rogers.
"She was making and selling date-rape drugs. Making, selling, and using them on male students she had a thing for. Luring them to her place, drugging and photographing them.
"She's sick and awful. And without Logan's help and bravery she'd still be selling drugs, still assaulting students and making it possible for others to, too." My voice broke with emotion. I couldn't look at Logan for fear I'd give away what I knew about him. Instead I stared at Harlan, daring him to come back at me and defend his position.
"Is that true, Logan?" Harlan's voice was soft and stunned. Suddenly I didn't exist.
Logan looked at his dad and nodded.
"All of it?"
Logan nodded again. "Yeah, Dad."
Harlan scooted his chair back so quickly it startled me and made the candle on the table flicker. He came around to Logan's chair, pulled Logan to his feet and into a fierce hug, holding him like a dad does when protecting a small boy. The tears in his eyes were evident even in the dim light.
"I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry I didn't believe in you." His voice was choked up as he kept repeating it. "It's okay now. It's going to be all right." He pulled back and slapped Logan on the shoulders. "You okay?"
Logan nodded.
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