Tangled Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  “Ame, maybe we should go soon…” I called over to her, loud enough to sound like the total buzz kill I, well, was. A couple people around us booed me.

  Amy laughed and kept wiggling. I was starting to think the dancing was a byproduct of the drinks. “Consensus says no, Lame-y. C’mon be on the team. What’s our mascot, Black Sheep?”

  “Wolverines,” Jack provided promptly.

  “Rawr!” Amy spun around. The band was getting louder and faster, and the crowd, except for me, more into it.

  Wolverines? I thought. “Where did you say you went to high school again?” I asked Jack.

  “California,” he said over the noise. But did he look away when he said it? I was having trouble concentrating between the band, the alarm bell ringing in my head, and Amy’s wild swaying.

  But I knew that mascot. I could have sworn—“Didn’t you say you were from San Francisco before? What was the name of your school?”

  Finally, Jack looked at me, really looked at me, and said, “I went to Webber, Lainey.”

  I went rigid. This could not be happening.

  “Hey! Isn’t that—?” The West Coast Sententia school? Yes. But Amy didn’t get the chance to say it aloud. She was half turned back to us when she started to fall. “Whee!” she laughed—laughed!—as she headed toward the ground. Jack and I managed to catch her before she landed, his hand touching mine as we hauled her up, and I yanked it away as soon as she was standing.

  “We’re leaving,” I told her. “Now.”

  “Lainey—” Jack said.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Amy slurred as she started to tilt toward the ground again.

  Jack caught her and propped her up with an arm around her waist. “Lainey, listen—”

  But I was not going to listen. “No! We’re leaving! Amy, c’mon.” I took her arm and started to lead her toward the door, but she stumbled.

  “When did I get so dizzy?” she asked of no one in particular but Jack was there, holding her again. “Black Sheep! I’m so dizzy. Carry me home?” In the periphery, I could see a few people looking concerned, and a bouncer starting to watch us.

  “Shit!” was all I could say. I repeated it a few times.

  “At least let me help you get her outside,” Jack pleaded.

  And though I couldn’t look at him, I nodded.

  IF I WAS into understatement, I’d say the taxi ride to my apartment was tense.

  Really, it was two miles of nightmare.

  Amy was propped up in the middle. I busied myself by petting her hair and praying to every god I could remember that she wouldn’t be sick in the car. The driver had already threatened us with the fifty dollar cleaning fee.

  And I—I was trying not to throw up myself.

  I wanted to. So badly. Jack knew about me, obviously. Somehow. He had to. He was one of us and he knew.

  When Amy started singing a song about feeling sentimental, I basically wanted to kill her. But not as much as I wanted to get us out of the taxi, so I gritted my teeth and counted seconds in my head. We hit every stop light on the way.

  At a particularly long one, Jack turned to look at me, saying, “Lainey, can I just—”

  “No,” I gritted out. “So don’t try.”

  “We promised we weren’t grading each other tonight.”

  “I’m not. I’m just not speaking to you.”

  Amy chimed in with, “Somebody’s got a seeeeccrrreet. Oh.” The cab went over a bump, which mercifully made her quiet as she tried not to puke and I did my auntie’s yoga breathing for the last thousand feet.

  “Lainey, I—”

  “No!” With a final jerk, the cab stopped at my apartment, which I’d never been more thankful to own than that moment. Dragging Amy up all the stairs of my dorm would have been an even bigger nightmare than this already was. I threw open the door and jumped out just fast enough for her to lean over and throw up next to a BMW parked at the curb. Before I could pay the cab driver, Jack gave him a bunch of cash and asked him to wait.

  “I feel a little better now!” Amy called, seemingly proud of herself.

  With difficulty, Jack helped her back out of his door without getting hit by oncoming traffic. Between the two of us, we got her into the building. Jack and Luis, the night doorman, nodded at each other as we went through. The tiny elevator took approximately a year to reach the fourth floor.

  Amy broke into giggles as we went down the hallway with her propped between us, singing, “Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my!” On the other side of her, I could see Jack laughing silently, but I couldn’t find a single thing funny about the entire situation. After a few choruses, she swallowed. “Starting not to feel as good, Lane,” she warned, but we were—finally!—at my apartment. If unlocking a door had been a rodeo challenge, I did it with winning speed and tugged Amy through behind me.

  With little more than a second glance, I said, “Thanks for your help,” and let the door slam in Jack’s face.

  Chapter Six

  Carter

  My apartment was further outside my budget than I wanted to admit, but when Uncle Dan made the arrangements, I was in no shape to refuse. He wouldn’t have accepted a refusal anyway. I was situated less than a mile from a vast park where I could run, close to a metro stop, and a few blocks from the one place that made me feel closest to home: a bookstore.

  I suspected the store’s proximity was in large part responsible for my current address. It was the first place Uncle Dan took me after I arrived, and they greeted him by name. Of course he was known there—he was a senator as well as a scholar with three books to his name—and he made sure they knew me too.

  Inside was a coffee shop and I treated myself to coffee every day and books more often than necessary. It wasn’t like Penrose Books at all, except for the scent. The particular smell of a bookstore in the morning was the thing I missed almost as much as…my hand strayed toward my back pocket, but I caught myself. I shoved open the store’s door with more force than necessary.

  The coffee shop interior was warm and mellow. A glance told me the big chalk board menus were slightly different from the day before. If I thought about it for a few seconds, I could figure out exactly what was different, but I didn’t need to. I always ordered the same thing. It was just one more image for the mundane collection stuffed into my brain’s infinitely crowded filing cabinet. I wondered if one day my head would explode from it all and a million useless memories of menus and Lainey’s goddamned note would flood the ground.

  “Senator’s Son!” The barista greeted me as she did every day.

  “Nephew,” I corrected, like always. I tried not to touch my eye when I could tell she was looking at it. I tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, too. Training, politeness, or possibly the fact that she’d seen everything kept her from mentioning it.

  She was already pouring me a cup when she asked, “One or two?”

  “Two,” I answered and she poured a second, setting it on the counter with a mountain of pink packets stacked on top.

  As she made my change, she said casually, “Hey, saw the senator here on a date a few days ago.”

  “I’m sorry?” I realized I was still holding out my hand with the dollar and few coins sitting in it, so I dropped them in the tip jar. To my knowledge, Uncle Dan wasn’t dating anyone. He hadn’t been with anyone seriously for years. And now, it was kind of difficult when you were running for president.

  Her smile slipped a little. “Senator Astor. He met a woman here the other day. She was pretty. I’ve never seen him with anyone who wasn’t obviously an aide or you. Who was she?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably a reporter.” A line was forming behind me.

  Her eyebrows went up in a way that said it hadn’t looked like business. “They seemed awfully friendly. Must have been a good interview.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, which sounded stupid even to me. “See you tomorrow.”

  At my building, I met Lex in the elevato
r. She was clearly on her way back from the fitness center, wiping absently at her neck with one of their towels while scrolling her phone. She didn’t even look up when I stepped in the car.

  I leaned on the wall next to her, close, and I could see her readying her best back off when I said, “You could just run with me, you know.”

  She squeaked, and her phone slipped from her fingers, but she caught it before it could hit the floor.

  “Jesus. I thought you were some dickhead creeper.”

  “Just the one who brought your coffee.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t knee you in the balls.”

  “You’re right. Then I would have dropped the coffee.” She took it and kissed my cheek in thanks. “You could run with me though,” I added. I tapped the cup in her hand. “It would be warmer that way.”

  “I hate running.”

  I swallowed my coffee hard. “You were conference in field hockey.”

  “I know.”

  Back in my apartment, I sat at the dining table and continued to sip my coffee.

  “What’s the matter?” Lex dropped into the chair across from me.

  “What?”

  “You just ran a zillion miles, it’s nice out, you’ve got coffee and smelled books. Why are you so quiet?”

  I picked up my cup and found it light, almost empty. I’d been sitting there for longer than I realized. “Do you know why my uncle is going to Arizona next weekend?”

  “No? Politics? Because the best spas are there?” I told her about my conversation with the barista and her eyebrows shot toward the ceiling. “Well, that would be juicy news. Maybe he’s taking girlfriend to L’Auberge. Scottsdale’s pretty nice, too.”

  “Don’t you think he’d have told me if he was dating someone?”

  “My dad doesn’t tell me every time he’s dating someone.”

  “Lex, Jesus.” I’d been spinning my cup in circles and it clattered to a stop on its side. “That’s not true.”

  “Of course it is. Dad has more girlfriends than I do. Mom gets new jewelry every time he gets a new secretary.”

  “Fuck.” Out of habit, I wiped a hand down my face and winced as I passed over my swollen eye.

  “Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Alexis shook her head. “That’s because you think everyone is sweet and good.”

  “I’m not even sweet and good.”

  “Yes you are. In here.” She leaned forward and tapped my chest. It felt warm under her fingers.

  “I haven’t always been.”

  “Carter, seriously.” She stood and came to my side of the table, pushing it back with a scrape until she could settle herself comfortably on my lap. “I know I joke about it, but really, you’re a good, good boy. I bet even all your love-’em-and-leave-’em townie girls still pine for you.”

  “I’d take that bet.” I knew they didn’t. I hadn’t stayed with any of them for very long. I hadn’t loved any of them either. They all knew that. Some of them had wanted me to. “And don’t be crass.”

  “See?”

  “What?”

  “‘Don’t be crass’—who says that except good boys? Listen, I know you’re good because I’m not. You are just like your aunt.”

  “You are not bad either.”

  “Ha!”

  I pulled her snug against me. “You’re not. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “I think,” she said, “you bring it out in me. The good.” There was a softness in her voice, the sometimes sharp edge of it dulled by sincerity. I skimmed my fingers across her cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, a small curving of her lips that was the shyest thing she ever did.

  “Maybe,” I said, and kissed that smile. “But see? It’s already in you. You don’t need me.”

  With one hand on my chest, she leaned close and whispered, “Don’t bet on it.”

  She kissed me back, a good one, her tongue searching for mine, and for a while I forgot all about the conversation in the coffee shop. My hands fixed on her waist to keep her balanced, but the longer we kissed, the more they wanted to stray. Alexis arched her back, pushing the table even further away with a screech, and wrapped her legs around my waist.

  She pressed against me once and that was it. My brain switched off in favor of other things. I stood, bringing her with me, cinched tight. Without a second to consider it, I Thought the table back toward us and set her right there. Alexis’s eyes popped open as it made the same awful screech as before.

  “Oh!” She jerked her chin in surprise and caught me right in the swollen eye.

  Hissing, I fell back into my chair.

  Lex sat up on the table, rubbing her chin. “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head to clear the stars.

  “Sorry. That was weird. Like the table moved itself.”

  I froze, one hand over the throbbing half of my face, and cursed myself for being such a fool. Only five people in the world knew the secret of my Thought Moving ability and Alexis wasn’t one of them. Fool, I thought again, gritting my teeth. “I—moved it with my foot,” I lied.

  “Oh. Duh. Sorry,” she repeated, gentler this time. She kissed my cheek, then the hand still covering my eye before tugging it away. I squinted at her and she laughed. “I wonder what your uncle’s going to say when he sees you?”

  “WHAT’S HAPPENED TO your face, son?!” Uncle Dan and a guest had just stepped into my cube. There was a moment where my uncle opened his mouth, ostensibly to introduce his companion, before he actually looked at me. It was almost funny.

  Self-consciously, I touched it. It was better, but the skin around my eye was still blue and yellow. I could have lied, said anything. But I hated lying when I didn’t have to, so instead I smiled. “Let’s just say there’s nothing I won’t do to support you, sir.”

  Uncle Dan laughed, though I could see he was still curious. “I’ve certainly never doubted your dedication. I hope you were equally convincing?”

  “More thoroughly, actually.”

  His companion laughed then too, and I wondered who he was. His suit wasn’t nice enough to make him a likely donor, and something about him reminded me of Uncle Jeff. They looked nothing alike, as this guy was a good half a foot shorter than Jeff and some part Pacific Islander. Or did they? It was how he stood, a readiness, and his eyes. They missed nothing. Military, I thought.

  Uncle Dan, still chuckling, clapped me on the shoulder as I came around my desk. “Carter, this is Manuel,” he said as we shook hands. “Manny, my nephew Carter.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, though I still didn’t really know who he was.

  “Likewise,” Manny replied.

  “Join us for a minute, would you?” my uncle asked and I followed them around the corner to his office.

  Once inside, Manny closed the door and stayed by it as if that was his station. Uncle Dan nodded toward his seating area, and I took one of the wingback chairs. “Manny,” he said to me, “if you haven’t guessed it yet, is an agent with the Secret Service.”

  That certainly made sense. I glanced at him again, then back at my uncle. “Is he your agent?”

  “He is. There’ll be a few others on rotation, but Manny is my detail leader. There may occasionally be private security as well.”

  “But…why?” It wasn’t common for senators to have assigned security, and it was still early for presidential candidates.

  Uncle Dan rubbed his eyes and I realized he looked tired. I always thought of my uncle as indefatigable. “There have been some…threats,” he said. He met my eyes and I sat up straighter.

  “What kind of threats?”

  “The not very nice kind.” He chuckled again, but it lacked the humor from before. “It seems,” he continued, “some people take umbrage with, well, many things about me. My ‘unconventional’ family, for one.” He meant Jill, I realized, his daughter-out-of-wedlock. And possibly the fact that he wasn’t, had neve
r been, married. “My wealth. My voting record. Also, we believe, my father.”

  I sucked in a breath. Other Sententia wouldn’t threaten him, would they? “Are they—?” I cut another glance at Manny, who wasn’t obviously listening but surely heard every word.

  “You may speak freely,” Uncle Dan said, nodding in Manny’s direction. “Manuel is discreet in all manner of my activities. In fact, I think you have much in common.”

  Manny grinned at me, a flash of white teeth. “Never forget a face,” he said, tapping his temple.

  A Lumen then, and a handy skill for a security agent. I should have suspected he was one of us. “I never forget anything,” I told him and he chuckled.

  “I won’t forget that,” he said. We all laughed, and I liked Manny already. If Uncle needed protection, I was glad it was someone like him. Like us.

  Uncle Dan cleared his throat. “To answer your question, it’s unlikely fellow Sententia. But—” He shrugged. “It’s not impossible. You don’t carry my last name or responsibilities without picking up a few enemies along the way.”

  “Sir, I—” I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t realized I should be worried about my uncle. “I had no idea.”

  “Nor should you have.” Uncle crossed his legs, the way only a man steeped in old money could. “We’ve kept it quiet—and intend to. For now. Publicity will only fan the flames. But,” he said, sitting straight and leaning forward, “I want you to know this—we believe the danger is only to me. If there was even a hint you or any of the family were a target, I’d have the entire Service on your detail. Please believe me.”

  “Of course,” I said automatically. “Of course I do. I’m not worried about myself.” I squeezed my hands against my thighs to keep from rubbing my hair, a habit I was desperately trying to quit. “Can I do anything?”

  Uncle Dan stood, which meant I stood too. He touched my shoulder again. “Just your being here helps,” he said and I looked at my feet. I hated him to see how much comments liked that pleased me. “It’s time for me to go. Sorry to leave you with such…uncomfortable news, but really, you shouldn’t worry. Especially now with Manuel here.”