Katie’s eyes misted. “For one thing, there probably won’t be a debutante ball.”
The crust nearly flew from Harper’s mouth. It was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing. Oh, no! Poor Katie-pooh. No deb ball? This was The Kick’s big trauma?
“I don’t have any money. I’m not sure there’s enough to make it through Trinity next year.”
Intriguing, thought Harper. “Okay, I’ll play. Where’s all the moolah? Mom and Dad cut you off or something?”
A tear slid from Katie’s manga-like eyes. “Not Mom. She doesn’t even know.”
“Know what?”
Katie pushed her plate away and cut a glance toward the door. “My father made some bad deals at the bank. He’s being indicted for fraud.”
Whoa. Serious stuff.
“When it happens,” Katie continued, “it’s all over. The money will be gone, the house seized, everything—my trust fund, college savings—my credit cards totally cut off. It’ll be very public, all over the TV. Everyone will know.”
Harper lost her appetite suddenly. Is that why Katie-bird had ended up in this dump? She asked, “Is it going down this summer? Is that why you’re here?”
Katie tensed. She swiped her plate off the makeshift coffee table and started to get up, but changed her mind, set it down. “It hasn’t happened yet. My parents are on a cruise, and Lily told me the staff is still running the house. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, only that it will.”
It’s like, thought Harper, when you blink your eyes and everything blurry turns painfully sharp and clear. Like a code unscrambled, a stuck-between-stations radio dial finding a clear signal, a missing puzzle piece found. A picture formed, neither pretty nor cool, and least of all “Kick-y.”
Katie lifted her chin. She didn’t appreciate being pitied. “This was supposed to be my summer to deal, to salvage my life. With Lily’s help, I would’ve figured something out. I’m sure of it.”
Ouch. One-two punch. First her dad blindsides her, then her flinty friend bails. Harper almost felt sorry for her. No wait … Harper did feel sorry for her.
Until Katie answered. Harper’s carefully worded, “I’m not doubting you, but how can you be sure of all this?”
Turned out—hello!—to be the way Katie uncovered all sorts of dirt, including how she knew the history between Luke and Harper. She spied, eavesdropped, read people’s journals, and in this case, hacked into her dad’s private computer files. “My whole life is over,” Katie whined.
To Harper? It seemed like Katie’s parents’ lives were, in fact, the ones taking a dive. Katie wasn’t thinking about them. All she cared about was resuming her rockin’ life as queen bee of Trinity High. The imminent downsizing of her social-slash-economic status clashed with her life plan.
So, ladies and gentlemen, Katie-acolytes of all ages, mused Harper, we can do the one thing The Kick cannot do: hack it when reality bites, when the going gets genuinely tough.
Katie was trying, though.
She detailed Plan Awesome for Harper. While living the high life in Lily’s aunt’s freebie mansion, they’d be piling up coin, earned by the counselor job, tips, plus what Katie could scam off rich boyfriends. If “the fraud thing,” as Katie called it, didn’t go down anytime soon, she could make it through most of her senior year at Trinity, head held high. No one in school would be the wiser.
Then, she could split, pay her own way to college if she had to, and not be around when shame came down on the House of Charlesworth.
And if it happened before high school graduation? Maybe, Harper offered naively, Katie could get a scholarship, financial assistance for senior year? The school, she knew well, was generous with that sort of thing.
Katie was shocked, stunned, furious at the temerity of the suggestion. “Are you kidding? Are you insane? Me—an object of pity? People looking down their snooty noses at me? What are you thinking?”
Harper was thinking that karma was real. That Katie had spent the past three years sneering at “pitiable” people, at the losers, the feebs, the “fringe.” She could dish it out all right, but the prospect of being on the other end was unfathomable. This wass the petty world Katie had created at Trinity, or at least perpetrated. Harper thought this was pretty much justice.
But Harper wasn’t dumb enough, or mean enough, to say that to Katie’s face.
Katie whined on mournfully. “Our house is as good as gone. If it happens while I’m at Trinity, I’ll have to go live in some apartment or something. And everyone will know.”
“So, that’d be the worst of it?” Harper dared inquire, picturing the cozy crib she and her mom shared.
Katie’s face got very, very red. “What part of all this don’t you understand? I will not have my entire life ruined because my stupid father turns out to be a thief! I’ve worked too long and too hard. I deserve the best clothes, the best crowd, the best”—she fumbled, pausing to think—“accessories!” she finally blurted.
Harper was astonished. You really could not overestimate Katie’s superficiality.
Warming to her subject, Katie’s whining intensified. “I deserve to make my debutante ball, to wear Vera Wang to the prom, to show up with someone worthy, in college and rich, like Brian or Nate. This is my senior year! I refuse to let my parents’ shame be mine.”
Snap! That was the moment Harper stopped feeling sorry for Katie. She had to ask, “What about your mom? She knows nothing?”
“She lives in perma-denial.” Katie waved dismissively.
“So you’d just abandon her? When the thing goes down, you’d skip out?”
“Maybe I can rack up enough credits to get into college early—or something—I am so outta that scene. Whatever it takes, really.”
“Your mother would be alone,” Harper couldn’t help pointing out. “It doesn’t sound like coping is her strong suit.”
Coldly, Katie responded, “She’s never had to cope. She’s all about the lifestyle, and it hasn’t failed her.”
“Knock, knock!” Harper said sharply, banging her fist down on the crate. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most deluded of them all? You have no respect for your own mother, yet you’re all about following in her Manolos. Socialite, heal thyself!”
“You’re mocking me?” Katie challenged. “You think this is some trite thing? You think it’s no big deal?”
“That’s the saddest part, Katherine. I think it is a very big deal. And the way you’re reacting to it? Makes you as shallow and self-serving as any human being who’s ever pranced across the planet.”
Katie’s Got a Sinking Feeling
The Kick’s knee-jerk reaction was to kick herself for confiding in Harper. The frizzy-haired freak wore her fringe label like some badge of honor. Katie’s first impression of Harper had not changed a whit all summer.
Except for this: what Harper had said to her? It killed. Killed in the way only the truth can.
“Denial much?” she asked herself as she furiously scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen sink—a few were her own, but never-thoughtful Ali had left an impressive pile of pots, plates, and silverware. How sad was it that Katie welcomed even this diversion? She didn’t bother putting rubber gloves on.
That was supposed to be a bonding conversation with Harper. Katie had finally decided maybe Harper could help her. Her whole confession should have drawn her quirky roommate to her side! But no! Like everything with that girl, it had turned into a confrontation. Much as Katie took pains to explain, Harper stubbornly refused to see things her way.
Okay, so maybe Katie lost her cool more than once, maybe her voice betrayed her frustration. “You don’t get it!” she’d railed at Harper. “Why would you? Unlike you, I’m someone at Trinity. I’ve earned the crown of homecoming queen and prom queen. I’m going to an Ivy League school, and then I will marry very, very well. I refuse to let anything change that.”
But Harper had only cracked, “So your goal in life is to become a Desperate
Housewife, a total cliché.”
“No!” Katie had countered, kicking the cabinet beneath the sink now. “I won’t be my mother. I’m the smart one. I won’t be hoodwinked.”
How could she think someone like Harper would get her? No matter how much Katie tried to make her see the righteousness of her cause, Harper was like a broken record. “What about your mother?”
“What about her?”
“Don’t you think she’d need you?” Harper stared with those unnerving gray-blue peepers.
“Need me? What could I do for her?” Katie had shot back.
“You could be her daughter. You could be supportive. Besides, you’re the brilliant Charlesworth, you know how to cope. Why not use some of that kick-ass talent when it counts?”
Katie’s bow lips formed a straight line. “Save the Disney Channel schmaltz for some naïf,” she’d advised Harper. “My mother boarded her private jet a long time ago—and the cabin doors have closed. It’s too late to go all ‘me and mom against the world.’”
Harper just kept shaking her head. “You’re a piece of work, Katie Charlesworth,”
“You think I’m horrible.”
Harper’s response cut. “I think you’ve been so busy spying on other people, you haven’t taken time to figure yourself out, and what’s really best for you—the real you.”
Katie’d countered miserably, “You still don’t understand. When it happens, I won’t be able to face anyone—Lily, the kids at school.”
“That doesn’t matter. As long as you can face yourself. Can you?”
She stared into the sparkling clean, albeit stained and cracked, porcelain sink. That was a question Katie could not answer.
It was late when Katie returned to the share house. She’d borrowed (without asking) a pair of Harper’s broken-in sneakers and had trolled the neighborhood, circled the tiny boxlike houses, noted the (eww…) cheap cars parked in neat driveways, and observed, when the window shades weren’t drawn, the other residents of Cranberry Lane.
She’d never thought about them before—just random Cape Codders whose lives would never intersect with hers. Now, she was facing the possibility of being one of them. How did you even do that? Katie wondered. What do you do if you’re without credit cards, designer duds, Escalades, and cool parties? How could you live in a house like this, so cramped you’d be too ashamed to invite anyone over. She couldn’t wrap her brain around it.
Lily understood the terror Katie felt.
Harper did not.
Katie wasn’t finished trying to force Harper to get it.
No cars were in their lame excuse for a driveway, which meant Mitch and Joss were out, but Ali was obviously home, evidenced by her pilly sweater on the floor by the staircase. If Mandy was around, you’d know it. Katie didn’t hear her.
Katie marched into the room she shared with Harper, found her sitting up in bed, reading by the lamp on her night table. She’d meant to say something deep, to force Harper to understand what she was going through. But all that came out was, “What are you reading?”
Harper held the book up. The Color Purple, by Alice Walker.
“Any good?” Katie asked, not having heard of it.
Harper closed the book and drew her knees to her chest. “Did my sneakers fit you?”
Katie said sheepishly, “I didn’t think you’d mind. I took a long walk, and I didn’t have anything appropriate. Turns out we’re the same size.”
“Who’da thunk it?” Harper quipped. “So, what do you want?”
Katie twined her fingers and stretched her arms out. “I said I needed a friend. Why can’t you just be one?”
“I assume this is your normal strategy—if you don’t get what you want, or like what you hear, you just keep at it.”
Katie smiled at her ruefully. “It’s worked in the past.”
Harper couldn’t suppress a grin. “And yet? You need to be so over the past. We both do.”
Katie smiled—maybe Harper was warming to her after all. “Lily and Luke?” she dished. “Just so you know? They deserve each other. If your ex really is into her, he’s headed for a crash-and-burn. Lily’s wicked, already planning on kicking him to the curb. And if you take him back”—Katie wagged her finger at Harper—“you’re a fool.”
Harper widened her eyes. “Never. But—whoa, why would I take advice from you? Do you even like the guys you’ve been going out with this summer?”
Katie considered. “Not Brian, he turned out to be a bore. Nate? Maybe. He’s got the whole kindness vibe, and he wears it well. But I don’t … exactly see … the two of us together. No matter what happens.”
“So basically, you’re just using him, too,” Harper concluded.
“God, Harper, everyone uses everyone. How do you not know this by now?” She flung back her head, exasperated.
“I won’t—can’t—believe that.”
“Oh right. You believe in love for its own sake. Oh, wait, didn’t that get you in trouble already?” Katie gave her long look. “You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?”
Harper’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What are you talking about?”
“Joss. You’re crazy in love with him. It’s totally obvious.”
Harper abruptly switched off the bedside lamp. “Darkness falls. Night-night, roomie.”
“There’s something you might want to know about him,” Katie said.
Harper flipped the light back on.
At that exact moment, a voice startled both of them. “What, Katie? What would she need to know about me?”
Katie whirled around, Harper sat straight up.
From the doorway, Joss took a tentative step into their room. “You’re about to tell Harper that I’m not who I say I am? That I’ve deceived her?”
“What are you doing here?” Harper and Katie said as one.
“I live here, don’t you remember? So go on, tell her,” he goaded Katie.
From the day she’d first seen Joss Wanderman, standing in the doorway of the share house—not unlike his studied-casual pose right now—Katie knew she knew him from somewhere. It’d come to her, she’d been sure of it. And then just the other day? Two and a half months later? It had.
It was from a feature article in the society section of the Boston Globe Sunday magazine. About J. Thomas Sterling, one of the richest businessmen in the country, a savvy venture capitalist who’d built an empire to rival the Trump Organization. Many times married and even more sought after, J. Thomas wielded power like an ax, using and abusing it to cut down his enemies and threaten those who might be. The only reason she’d happened upon the article was that Lily had e-mailed it to her, suggesting she check out the “number-one son” in the article’s family portrait. “Josh Sterling,” she’d written, “Apprentice material, hottie, and available. Someone to meet, don’tcha think?”
The photo, maybe two years old, showed a young collegiate, conservative and preppy, short brown hair, wearing an argyle sweater under a Zegna sports jacket. Patriarch J. Thomas was smiling broadly, his arm around his son’s narrow shoulders. Joss—or Josh—looked massively uncomfortable. Like he’d rather be—
“Anywhere but there.” Joss was telling his story to Harper. “That life was never what I wanted. So I split, stayed under the radar, haven’t looked back.”
“I take it,” Harper speculated, “your father wasn’t exactly down with the music thing.” She nodded at the guitar Joss held.
“Not so much,” Joss confirmed. “I’m the only son, heir to the throne. I’m supposed to ascend, run the organization, not haul equipment in exchange for getting to play backup for—”
“Does your father know where you are?” Katie interrupted.
Joss had been staring at Harper, trying to gauge her reaction to the exposé, but he switched his attention to Katie. “I’m sure. J. Tommy has the resources to find anyone. I’m guessing he’s lying back, giving me my space—confident I’ll come crawling back.”
“Will you?
” The question came again, from both girls.
Clutching the neck of his guitar, Joss sank slowly onto Katie’s bed, the unoccupied one. “A month ago? Two months ago? I would’ve said never. No way, José. Keep the money, drive the limos off a cliff, I don’t need any of the perks. To quote an old rock guy, ‘It ain’t me, babe.’”
“And now?” asked Katie cautiously. “You would go back? Did something change?”
Joss had returned to trying to read Harper’s face. But she wasn’t giving it up. He lifted the guitar into his lap, flicked his fingers across the strings. “A lot has changed, actually, in the past three months.”
Katie crossed her legs and shifted her position. Harper remained still. She wondered if Harper hated Joss for lying, for deceiving her about his background. She wondered if Harper had been waiting for something like this, something she could use to convince herself that Joss was just another Luke, an unworthy jerk.
Joss finally said, “I didn’t mean to deceive you.”
An expression crossed Harper’s face, and Katie read it perfectly. She was more in love with him than before!
“You didn’t deceive anyone,” Harper confirmed. “I think we all got to know who you really are this summer. I think that’s what you wanted all along.”
Deep, Katie thought. And then wondered, what now? Will Joss unburden himself and tell Harper his other big secret? The not-so-worthy one? The one Harper would find truly contemptible, and hurtful.
“There’s something else you should know.” Joss leveled his gaze at Harper. “Something I’m not proud of.”
Katie jumped up, pivoted, and dashed from the room. He was gonna do it, stupid fool. She so didn’t need to hear it.
Only, due to the thinness of the walls, the silence in the rest of the house, and—okay, if she had to admit it—her own keen interest, she heard everything.
Joss outed himself about sleeping with Mandy.
Harper outed her real feelings. Disgust, jealousy, rage. And now—the excuse she’d been looking for for cutting him off.
Joss fell all over himself explaining, apologizing, trying to make Harper understand that it had happened, and was over, before he’d realized his feelings for her. That he’d been a jerk.
No Strings Attached Page 17