“Director Williams does. And Coach Larry. And that guy…what’s his name?” She snaps her fingers. “Marshall. And, let’s see—”
“Never mind,” I mumble.
Gillian gives me another concerned look. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Like I said, weird dream.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I’m taking you to dinner,” Gillian announces.
“Why?”
“You’re wound up so tight, you’re making me stressed.”
“I am not,” I deny, though I know very well I am.
She gives me a disbelieving look. “You’ve checked the locks on our windows and our door like a million times today.”
She’s right. I have.
Gillian grabs her purse. “Besides, I owe you a dinner with all the free tutoring you’ve been giving me.”
She knows I can’t afford dinner out, and it’s very sweet of her to cover that fact with paying me back for tutoring. “Sounds perfect,” I say.
“Windbreaker Café?” she suggests, and I immediately wonder if Riel’s working tonight.
“Never been,” I tell her.
“Best crab cakes ever.”
In her Bug we drive downtown and park near the restaurant. As we stroll across the dimly lit parking lot, I glance around for a dark SUV but don’t see one. I also look for Riel’s Jeep, but don’t see it, either.
Gillian pushes through the swinging doors, and it’s like I’ve walked straight back in time. People pack the driftwood tables and bar. Hand-painted murals of sailors, bar maids, and voyages decorate the walls. Oversized ceiling fans whirl the scent of fried food through the air.
Gillian leads us over to an empty table with high platform stools. As I wiggle up, I scan the area and catch sight of Joe, from Mar’s swim meet, approaching. “Well, lookee here,” he says.
I check out his white apron. “You work here, too?”
He nods.
“This is my roommate, Gillian.” I introduce them, and they shake hands.
Joe places menus in front of us. “To drink?”
“Don’t suppose my fake ID would work on you?” Gillian flirts, and Joe laughs. “Guess just ice tea then.” Playfully, she pouts.
“Me, too,” I say and open my menu as Joe wanders off.
Gillian flicks my menu. “Are you kidding me? That guy is h-h-hot. How do you know him?”
“Met him at Mar’s swim meet.”
From across the restaurant, Gillian scopes him out. “He could totally be your Friend-With-Benefits since you turned Zane down. For that matter, he can be my Friend-With-Benefits. Dibs?” she asks me.
“You can have him.”
Gillian sashays her skinny shoulders. “Oh, goodie.”
Joe comes back over and puts our teas down. “Ready to order?”
I haven’t even looked at the menu but close it anyway. “Heard your crab cakes are good?”
“The best,” he agrees.
Gillian holds up two fingers. “Me, too. And—” she reaches inside her purse, pulls out a card, and hands it to Joe. “I’m an artist if you ever need anything, or feel free to pass it along.” She winks. “Or if you’re just in the mood to call a quirky girl with pink hair.”
With a chuckle, Joe tucks the card down inside his apron. “Thanks, Gillian.”
“You have a card?” I ask after Joe heads off.
“Yeah, you’d be surprised how much business I strum up around this place.” She hands me one, too. “Feel free to pass that along.” She hops down from her stool. “Gotta pee. Be right back.”
Sliding her card into my purse, I swivel on my stool, taking in the packed place. Between locals, students, and tourists, Mr. Hamns seems to be doing well.
Over in the corner I see Peter, hanging with some of his buddies and a few girls, playing pool. One of the girls giggles, giving him a playful push, and he yanks her in to give her a quick grope. I recognize her. She was the same girl waiting on him at my birthday party. As if sensing my gaze, he looks straight up and across the restaurant right at me.
Warmth flushes my face, and I glance away, then immediately chastise myself. No, that wasn’t a good idea. Now he probably thinks I was looking at him because I like him or something and got embarrassed. I should’ve just nodded and acted indifferent. I turn back to do just that, and my heart leaps into my throat as I watch him put his pool stick down, step away from the girl, and start across the restaurant straight toward me.
Gillian hops back onto her stool, and I swing my gaze to her. “You’ve got to check out the bathroom before you leave,” she says. “There’s a hand-carved mermaid on the inside door.”
“Peter’s coming this way,” I mumble.
She turns and looks right at him. God, can she be any more conspicuous?
“Yep. Coming right this way,” she agrees.
Joe hips his way through the kitchen door at the exact second Peter crosses in front, and the two of them collide.
Dishes crash, food goes flying, and I suck in a breath.
“I’m so sorry!” Joe apologizes. “Are you okay, man?”
I hold my breath, waiting to see what Peter’s going to do.
His entire face clenches into this snarl, and he rears back and shoves Joe hard in the chest. “Asshole.”
Joe stumbles back, stunned, and then comes right at him.
Mr. Hamns appears out of seemingly nowhere. “All right, boys. That’s enough. Peter, get on with your night. Next meal’s on me. Joe, clean this up and get another order ready.”
Joe and Peter do a few more seconds of the snarl thing, then Peter’s friends surround him and usher him out with the girls trailing behind them. But right as he’s pushing through the door, he looks one last time at me, and smiles. But it’s not one of those friendly curve-of-the-lips smiles. It’s a close-lipped weird-macho-sneer smile, and it reminds me so much of the way Manny used to look when he was trying to stupidly impress his buddies.
The rest of the dinner is uneventful, and afterward, we head out. But as we’re rounding the parking lot I catch sight of Bud, the weird guy from the boat, strolling away from Gillian’s Bug.
“Who’s that?” she asks.
“Hey!” I yell, but he keeps walking.
“Hey you!” I take a few steps toward him. “Bud!” But he still keeps walking.
What the—?
He cuts across the street and disappears between two old buildings.
“You know that guy?” Gillian asks.
“Sort of. He works on Mr. Hamns’s boat.”
“Was that a tattooed head I saw?”
“Yeah.” I cross the gravel to her Bug. “Let’s just go.”
“Well,” Gillian mutters. “This sucks.”
I glance across the top of the Bug. “What?”
“Flat tire.” She sighs. “I’ve got Triple A. I’ll call.”
While she paces away with her cell, I round the car and bend to study the flat. Oh no. Did Bud do this? Is that why he was standing here? But why? Why would he flatten Gillian’s tire?
“No signal,” she says, waving her phone. “I’ll go inside and call.”
“I can change it,” I tell her, but she’s already disappeared.
I stand for a minute in the dimly lit parking lot, waiting for Gillian to come back, and uneasiness niggles its way inside of me. I glance around, but other than her VW Bug and some other cars, everything seems normal. Still, I get the pepper spray out of my purse just in case.
While I continue waiting, I turn and look toward where Bud disappeared but don’t see him. Maybe he was over here because he noticed the flat tire. But then why walk away? Why not stay to help? Especially if he saw me and Gillian coming. What guy walks off and leaves two girls with a flat?
Manny, that’s who. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Me and Momma on the side of the road with a flat. Manny gunning his big boy truck right on by, just a honking and flipping us off like he thought it was the funniest
thing ever. What a redneck asshole. And Momma’s only comment was, “I’m so happy you broke up with that piece of trash.”
I glance back toward the restaurant and still no Gillian. Screw it. I can do this. I round the front, open the Bug’s hood, and get the spare out.
“Did you run over a nail or something?”
I jump and glance over my shoulder to see Riel standing behind me. “Where’d you come from?”
He reaches for it. “Let me do that.”
It’s a combination of everything—the flat, Bud, the memory of Manny—that has me tossing the spare on the ground with a bit too much force. “I got it.”
Riel holds his hands up and backs away. “Okay.”
While I riffle around in the tire kit, he sits down on the pavement to keep me company. “Heard you came in for dinner. Joe waited on you?”
I position the jack under the car frame. “Yes.”
“I was on kitchen duty,” Riel tells me.
Gritting my teeth, I start pumping the jack. “I didn’t see your Jeep.”
“I parked down by the marina.”
With a grunt, I give it a few more pumps.
“Is there something wrong?” Riel asks. “Other than the flat tire?”
“Why would you think there’s something wrong?”
“I don’t know—you seem a little angry.”
I jerk one of the lug nuts loose. “I’m fine.”
A good solid minute passes while he watches me work. The more he watches, the more something I become. Frustrated. Irritated. Or more like a combination of both. “You know what? I’m not fine.”
“Viola, what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? It’s more where do I start? Let’s see, well, first there’s Manny, my shit of an ex that I can’t seem to stop thinking about. Then there’s the stupid scholarship essay that I lied on. There’s Bud, the creep who does a stellar job of leering. Then Abbie, the frenemy. Oh, and let’s not forget Peter, her macho brother. Or the fact I’m being paranoid about the SUV I think is following me, the prank calling, and then that awful SLUT note. Let’s not forget the dream that officially freaked me out. And the pepper spray I just retrieved from my purse that is so old I’m not even sure if it works anymore.
Riel touches my arm. “Are we friends?”
“Yes,” I say. Him and Mar and Gillian are the best thing about this new life I thought was going to be so grand.
“Well, friends talk to each other,” he reminds me.
“I know.” But what am I supposed to say? I’ll sound ridiculous. It’s not like I can prove anything. So I force a smile. “I’m good. Really.”
Gillian walks up. “Hey, Riel.” She takes one look at me. “Are you serious with that?”
I don’t respond. I just want to get out of here.
“Triple A will be here in an hour,” she informs me.
I lower the jack. “As you can see, we’re good.”
“Guess I’ll go call them back.” With a sigh, she heads off again.
“You’re welcome,” I grumble to her back.
Riel gets to his feet. “Mar’s waiting.”
I nod as I start packing up the tools.
He grasps my arm and holds it until I look into his eyes. “Viola, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen. You are the most interesting, intelligent, and beautiful woman I have ever met. Do you hear me?”
Slowly, his words wash over me, and with them every single bit of irritation and frustration I was just feeling leaves. Those words, they are everything I’ve never heard and exactly what I always wanted and needed to. Though I never realized it until this very second.
“I mean it, Viola. I really do.”
“Th-thank you. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.”
Gently he gives my arm a squeeze and then releases it. “Well, that’s a shame. Because those are the words you should have been hearing your whole life.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Stalker
Viola didn’t even know I was there, huddled in the corner of her dorm room.
When I stepped on the floor and the board creaked, I nearly pissed myself.
Then covering her body with the sheet.
Touching her soft hair.
But actually visiting Viola’s room? Unbelievable.
I can’t believe I got away with it.
I’m definitely going back.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I’ve been watching you…
My eyes fly open in a dead-asleep-to-wide-awake alertness. It takes me a second to realize I’m lying in my bed, in my dorm, with a locked door, locked windows. I’m safe.
Gillian strolls in, straight out of the shower. She takes one look at me. “What’s up with you?”
I blow out a breath. “Another bad dream.”
“What is it with you and dreams?”
“I wish I knew.” I sigh.
I’ve been watching you, Bud hisses right up next to my ear.
She puts her toiletry basket down. “Who you dreaming about?”
“Bud, that tattooed bald guy.”
Gillian squirts lotion onto her fingers and spreads it into her face. “He hasn’t actually said anything to you, has he?”
I shake my head. “That’s just it. He hasn’t spoken a word. He just stares. Leers, really.” I scoot up in bed, hating this whole thing. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“You don’t think he had something to do with my flat tire, do you?”
I think about that again. “He could’ve just been walking by, saw your flat, stopped to look. I don’t know. It’s not like we saw him down there letting the air out or something.”
“True.” She recaps her lotion and throws it onto her bed, and the two of us fall into a couple beats of contemplative silence.
“Well anyway, checked our mail.” She picks up an envelope and tosses it to me. “For you.”
“Thanks.” I read the return address. Miami Museum of Science and Technology. I open it and quickly glance through. “Huh.”
Gillian tosses her wet towel in the clothes hamper. “Anything good?”
“Looks like the museum is sponsoring a conference for outstanding students in the state. I’ve been invited. All expenses paid.” I read a little further. “Director Williams already approved it.”
Gillian slips a T-shirt on. “How cool are you?”
“Right?” Folding my legs up under me, I scan the rest of the material. This trip will be the perfect thing to get my mind off stuff, and it will look great on my MIT app.
“When is it?”
My eyes widen. “We leave this Sunday. Wow, that’s quick.” I look at the schedule. “I’ll miss three days of classes because of this.”
Gillian throws her comb at me. “Only a nerd would say that.”
“But it’ll look good on my record.”
“And only a nerd would say that!”
I toss her comb back. “I never claimed to be anything else.”
“Who’s going?”
I browse the paperwork. “Me, Riel—”
Gillian sashays her shoulders.
“And…ugh.”
“Let me guess. Abbie and Peter. Their dad’s a big financial backer of that museum.”
I nod. “Yeah, Abbie and Peter.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
On Sunday we board a shuttle van that will drive us from the Keys up to Miami. Peter lays down across the seat in the back, and Riel chooses the spot next to me. The looks Abbie shoots me could murder.
“Who’s watching Mar?” I ask.
“She’s staying with one of her swim team friends. They’re going to ‘give each other a mani-pedi,’” he says, and I stifle a laugh.
“Ever been to Miami?” he asks seconds later.
I shake my head.
“Maybe we’ll get a chance to hit South Beach. That’s a crazy place.”
Abbie leans up from behind us, and her perfume nearly makes me choke. �
��I’m totally down with South Beach.”
Riel gives her a polite smile, and that slight show of attention prompts her to talk nonstop for the couple of hours it takes us to get from our campus to the hotel in Miami.
I tune her out as I stare out the window at the palm trees zinging by, the endless expanse of ocean, and as we enter Miami, the pastel-painted houses and mansions bordered by wrought-iron fencing.
“Coconut Grove’s a beautiful area,” Riel tells me after Abbie finally shuts up. “A lot of movie stars have homes here.” He points past me. “There’s our hotel.”
I count ten floors, each one painted a different pastel shade. “That is cool.”
“You’re going to love this place. We stayed here last year, too.”
The shuttle pulls up under the awning and parks. I follow the three of them off and into the lobby, and I nearly trip over my own two feet. I’ve never seen anything like it. White marble floors, coral-painted walls, tall tropical trees, wicker furniture, a bubbly fountain, and oversized columns stretching two stories up. It’s like I stepped into a fantasy. I mean, I know places like this really exist but to actually see it live and in person. I do a slow circle, taking it all in again, and then I fish my phone out and snap off a few pictures. Momma would love this!
Riel slips past me. “I’ll check us in.”
Abbie and Peter turn away from the check-in counter, all tall and blonde with their expensive clothes. They move across the lobby toward me. She’s smirking, and I know, I just know she’s about to say something insulting.
She comes to a stop right in front of me. “You going to stand here gawking like a hick or go get your key?”
I turn and point my phone at the fountain, making it more than obvious I’m ignoring her. I snap a pic and text it to Momma.
“Leave her alone, Abbie. Why do you always have to be such a bitch?” Peter snaps.
“Shut up, Peter,” Abbie snaps right back.
He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m meeting up with some friends.”
With that he’s gone, and Abbie turns on me. “Don’t think he was just standing up for you or anything.”
This girl is unbelievable, and to think of all those times she was so nice to me. Talk about personality swings.
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