Get Dirty (Don't Get Mad Book 2)

by Gretchen McNeil

  “So that means some of our usual foes,” Coach Miles continued. “Mitty, St. Francis, and Gunn.”

  Kitty caught her breath. Barbara Ann Vreeland went to Gunn. Ever since Kitty had accidentally gotten her expelled from Bishop DuMaine freshman year, she’d been hoping for an opportunity to make things up to her. Barbara Ann had been one of the best high school players in the country before she quit the sport, and if Kitty could just convince her to join the Gunn team, she was positive her old teammate would make an amazing impression.

  “So we’re doing two-a-days,” Coach continued. “Until the tournament. We’re the reigning state champions, and I want each and every one of you to have a college offer before Sunday dinner, understood?”

  “Sir, yes sir!” the team barked in well-trained unison.

  “Good.” Coach tooted twice on her whistle. “Water break while I get the new practice schedules from my office, then scrimmage. Ten minutes.”

  The girls filed out of the gym to the water fountain, Kitty trailing behind. She was finally going to have a chance to make things up to Barbara Ann. But would she listen to Kitty? The last time they’d seen each other, the night of Ronny’s candlelight vigil, Barbara Ann had looked as if she’d wanted to rip Kitty’s face off. It was doubtful that she’d listen rationally to anything Kitty had to say.

  But she might listen to Mika.

  “Mika,” Kitty said, as they waited in line. “You’re still friends with Barbara Ann, right?”

  Mika shrugged. “I mean, we don’t hang out. But I see her at the Coffee Clash.”

  “Do you think,” Kitty said slowly, “that she’d consider joining the varsity team at Gunn?”

  “I doubt it,” Mika said, shaking her head sadly. “Sounds like she’s done with volleyball.”

  Kitty scrunched up her face, not willing to give up so easily. “What are you doing after school today?”

  “Why?” Mika snapped.

  Kitty was taken aback. “Sorry, I just thought maybe we could go to the Coffee Clash and talk to Barbara Ann about—”

  “Can’t,” Mika said. She moved up to the vacant water fountain. “Got a thing.”

  A thing? “Okay, how about tomorrow night?”

  “Can’t,” Mika said. “Sorry.” She took a long sip of water, then turned away from Kitty. “I need to change my knee pads,” she said. “For the scrimmage. Later.” And she bounded back into the gym.

  Okay, fine. If Mika wouldn’t help her, she’d find another way. Kitty spun on her heel and headed to Coach Miles’s office. Maybe if Coach called over to Gunn, she could get Barbara Ann on the team in time for the tournament? It was worth a shot.

  But as she rounded the corner, she stopped dead. Standing at the other end of the hall, heads close together in conversation, were Mika and Donté.

  She opened her mouth to say hello, but the words died on her lips. There was something odd about their postures. Donté’s body was tense, and Mika’s shoulders were hunched as she cast a furtive glance behind her. As she turned, Kitty saw Donté reach out and graze his fingers against Mika’s palm.

  “Hey!” Kitty cried, marching toward them.

  Mika and Donté jumped apart as if they’d just received an electric shock.

  “Kitty!” Mika squeaked.

  Kitty eyed them both. Mika looked scared, her face pinched and drawn, while Donté was visibly uncomfortable. “I thought you were changing your knee pads?” she asked innocently.

  “I—I am,” Mika stuttered, her eyes roaming the hallway. They rested on the floor, then the ceiling, then a spot on the wall over Kitty’s left shoulder.

  “I guess I’m interrupting something,” Kitty said, turning on her heel. She felt dizzy and off-balance, as if her world had exploded in an instant. Her best friend and her boyfriend? It was a girl’s worst nightmare come true.

  “Baby!” Donté dashed after her, catching her by the arm. “Don’t be like that. You weren’t interrupting anything.” He pulled her into his body and wrapped his arms around her, then lowered his lips to her ear. “I promise.”

  Her knees turned to jelly, but a nagging little voice in her head prevented her from melting into Donté’s arms. They’re lying to you. They’re hiding something.

  Mika cleared her throat. “I should go. We’ll, um, chat later.” She turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  Donté waited until Mika was gone before he glanced down at Kitty. “Are you okay?”

  Kitty shrugged. “Sure.”

  Donté pulled away and took her face in his hands. “Kitty, what’s wrong?”

  I just caught you holding hands with my best friend? “What’s wrong with me?” Kitty asked with a tight laugh. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Donté jolted, dropping his hands from her face. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Kitty said, her voice shaking. “There’s something going on. With us. Something you’re not telling me.” She glanced down the hallway where Mika had just disappeared. “If you’re going to break up with me, I’d rather you just do it now.”

  Donté’s eyes grew wide. “Break up with you? Are you crazy?”

  “Um . . .” Kitty paused. She’d steeled herself against the inevitable “I’ve met someone else” excuse, but instead, he looked horrified.

  Donté reached his hand out to her. “Kitty Wei, I do not want to break up with you. What made you think that?”

  Kitty tentatively slipped her hand into his, but stared at the floor. “I don’t know. I thought maybe you . . .” Realized I’m kind of a spaz? Knew you could do better?

  “Kitty,” he said, wrinkling his lower lip. “I’m so sorry. I swear, there’s nothing between Mika and me. I know it looked weird, but it has nothing to do with you. Or us. Nothing at all.”

  Kitty glanced up at him. She knew there was something he wasn’t telling her. “Donté, what’s going on?”

  A wave of pain washed over his face. “I . . .” His voice faltered and his eyes flicked away from her face. Regardless of his insistence that his issues had nothing to do with her, he was definitely hiding something. Not just a school or family issue he didn’t want to talk about, but an actual secret. She could see the shame in his eyes, see the inner struggle as he tried to decide whether or not he could share it with her.

  “I need to get back to practice,” he said at last.

  Kitty tightened her grip on his hand. “Donté, you can trust me.”

  “Of course I can trust you.” Donté took a step closer and bent down, his lips inches from her ear. “But right now, I need you to trust me.”

  Kitty’s pulse was still racing long after Donté ducked into the boys’ locker room. Her heart ached with a dull pain that reminded Kitty of getting punched in the stomach, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was somehow losing her boyfriend.

  With a heavy sigh, Kitty peeled her eyes away from the locker room door, and trudged down the hallway to Coach Miles’s office.

  The door to the office was closed, but Kitty could clearly hear the sounds of someone typing at the computer. Not wanting to interrupt her cantankerous coach, Kitty peeked through the window to see if she looked busy.

  Instead, she found Theo Baranski typing furiously on Coach Miles’s computer.

  Without knocking, Kitty flung the door open and watched with some satisfaction as Theo jumped out of the chair.

  “Kitty!” he cried, his face red. “What are you doing here?”

  I should be asking you the same thing. “I came to talk to Coach.”

  “Oh,” Theo said, fumbling around for the mouse. “Right. Sure.” Before he could completely close out the screen on Coach’s computer, Kitty saw that he’d been accessing the school email system. Which was innocent enough. So why did he look so scared?

  “I—I was just checking my email,” he said at last, stating the obvious.

  “Uh-huh.”

  He reached down to the CPU, then popped out of the chair and scurried past Kitty in
to the hallway, shoving something into his pocket with trembling hands. “I’ve got to go.”

  What the hell was going on with everyone?

  EIGHT

  THE GOOD THING, AND PERHAPS THE ONLY GOOD THING, about Rex Cavanaugh was that he was predictable. Olivia was well aware that she wasn’t as smart as Margot, or as sharp as Kitty, or even as ballsy as Bree. But like any great actress, she was observant.

  Which is why Olivia knew that Rex would be leaving his iPhone bundled up in his Bishop DuMaine jacket, next to the chain-link fence around the tennis courts, during sixth-period gym.

  He did it every day, as if he was so important he might miss a call if he left his phone in his locker for fifty minutes, and his massive ego might afford her the opportunity to nab his phone for a quick look-see.

  Olivia sighed as she crouched behind a tree next to the tennis courts. If only Bree were here. She was so much better at the criminal stuff. Olivia’s role was always decoy and informant, but doing the actual theft? She wasn’t sure she had the nerve.

  Rex’s sidekicks emerged from the locker room first. Kyle and Tyler scanned the yard like Secret Service agents prepping the area for the president’s arrival, then stepped aside and allowed Rex to lead them across the blacktop to the same corner court they used every day.

  “Two against one,” he barked at Kyle and Tyler as he stepped onto the court. “I’m gonna kick your asses, ladies.”

  Then the move she’d been waiting for. Rex peeled off his jacket, carefully wrapped it around his cell phone, and placed it in the corner of the green hard court, nestled beside the chain-link fence.

  So predictable.

  Now, the tricky part. With his back to her, Rex wasn’t likely to spy her sneaking out from the trees, unless she was unlucky enough to have a stray ball roll right up on top of her as she was reaching her hand through the fence. The catch was Kyle and Tyler, who had a clear view of her. The trees only came within a few feet of the fence, and as soon as she broke from behind them, she’d be fully visible. She just had to wait, and hope that Rex’s overly aggressive play would send a ball flying across the nearby courts. With all eyes following Rex’s errant shot, she might just have enough time to snag the phone.

  “Dude,” Rex said, as he casually tossed a ball to Kyle. “Your serve.”

  Kyle caught the ball in midair. “I suck at serving.”

  “I know,” Rex said with a grin.

  Pursing his lips, Kyle bounced the ball several times, then tossed it over his head and took a massive swing.

  The ball bounced in front of him. Nothing but air.

  “A swing and a miss!” Rex crowed.

  Kyle chased down the ball and snatched it off the green court. He repeated his setup, swung again, and missed.

  “Fuck!” Kyle growled.

  Rex cupped the side of his mouth. “Strike two!”

  Olivia could see the scowl on Kyle’s face as he kicked the ball against the fence. “Stupid ball.”

  “Come on, dude,” Tyler said. “You can do this.”

  His lips pressed together, Kyle tossed the ball, arched his back, and whapped it as hard as he could.

  To Olivia’s amazement, it soared over the net.

  Rex pounced on Kyle’s serve immediately with a swing that utilized all of his strength. The yellow ball zipped through the air, over the net, over the back of the court, over the net of the court behind them, and finally dribbled to a stop three courts away.

  “Home run!” Kyle cried, and burst into laughter. “Point to me.”

  Rex glowered at him. “Go get the fucking ball, will you?” Then he pointed his racket at Tyler, who was trying to contain his not-so-manly giggling. “Don’t look at me, dickhead. I’ll punch that smile off your face.”

  Rex marched up to the net, arms folded across his chest, while Kyle and Tyler jogged across the courts to retrieve their ball. Suddenly, Olivia had her chance. As silently as she could, she slipped out from behind the tree, dashed to the fence, and wiggled her hand between the links. It only took her seconds to locate Rex’s phone in the folds of his jacket. She carefully extricated it and hurried back to the safety of the trees, panting.

  Bree would be so proud of me.

  Rex’s phone had an access code, but there was no need for one of Margot’s high-tech hacking devices. She’d seen him type it in a dozen times: 6969. So classy. His home screen popped up instantly.

  She started with the texts. Conversations with Kyle, Tyler, and a half-dozen other members of the ’Maine Men posse. She skipped through those. Amber, of course. She’d check that last. She continued to scroll, looking for Ronny’s name or, more likely, a phone number without a contact entry.

  Nothing unusual jumped out at her, so she scrolled back up to Amber and opened all five hundred messages in the thread.

  Moving backward in time through the final days of Rex and Amber’s relationship, Olivia felt almost bad for her frenemy. Rex was truly a douche, and despite the fact that Amber had dumped him, Amber was desperate to get him back; she must have really loved him.

  About fifty texts in, something caught Olivia’s eye. Rex had just called Amber a frigid bitch, which was followed by a rapid series of responses.

  Oh yeah? How about I share your dirty little secret, huh?

  I’m sure Kyle, Tyler, and the rest of the guys would just LOVE to know about Christopher.

  Maybe you should go back to him? I’m sure you’d make a lovely couple.

  Finally! So that’s what Ronny knew about Rex. Olivia recalled the emails Margot found between Christopher and Ronny. Hadn’t Christopher mentioned that he’d had a sexual encounter with someone at St. Alban’s? Could that possibly have been Rex?

  His response showed just how terrified he was that Amber might follow through on her threats.

  You fucking bitch.

  If you breathe a word about that I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.

  Don’t forget, I know where you were the night Ronny died.

  You want me to point the cops toward your dad’s missing Rolex?

  Olivia felt her fingertips tingling as she read the texts. The pieces were finally coming together.

  She looked around the wooded area, wishing there was someone nearby with whom she could share her discovery. Usually it was Margot or Kitty or even Bree figuring out the mystery, but now Olivia was rocking her Nancy Drew-ness to the nth degree and feeling pretty badass about it. She needed to find Kitty and tell her—

  In the distance, the bell blared.

  Dammit! She’d totally lost track of time. See? Bree wouldn’t have done that.

  Olivia canceled out of Rex’s messaging app and peeked from behind the tree. Too late. Rex jogged over to his bundle, tucked his jacket under his arm, and trotted off across the court.

  This was her chance. Swift and silent, she dashed to the fence and carefully laid Rex’s phone on the blacktop, as if it had just fallen out when he picked up his jacket. She was back in the safety of the trees not a moment too soon. Rex wasn’t even off the tennis courts before he shoved his hand into the bundle, looking for his phone. He paused, unfurled his jacket, and shook it, then swung around toward the corner he’d just vacated.

  He ran back to his phone at a full sprint, as if concerned that some unseen thief might nab it before he got there, and plucked it off the ground. He shoved the phone into his pocket and started back to the locker room when he paused. Rex slowly turned and stared into the wooded area. Olivia crouched even lower, her heart thundering in her chest, and waited what felt like forever before she heard the squeak of his sneakers as he retreated.

  NINE

  BREE LAY ON HER BED, STARING UP AT THE CEILING. WITH HER phone confiscated by Olaf and the password for the wireless changed, she was basically cut off from the world.

  It had been six hours since her release and she still had no idea how Margot was, no clue as to what had become of Christopher Beeman. Were her friends safe? Or was he still after them? She’d
been half-expecting to discover another manila envelope on her bed when she got home, taunting her, and was almost disappointed when all she found was her bedspread and pillows. At least it would have been some acknowledgment that she still existed.

  Bree sighed and rolled onto her stomach, cradling her head in the crook of her arm. She just needed a touchstone. Someone who could be her eyes and ears on the outside. If John had gotten her texts, maybe he would—

  Ding-dong.

  Bree vaulted out of bed. Someone was at the door. She glanced at her alarm clock and saw that it was almost three o’clock. School let out exactly twenty minutes ago.

  She sprinted down the stairs, hydroplaning on the Persian runner in the hallway, then stopped short. The colossal bulk of Olaf blocked the wide-open front door.

  “What do you want?” Olaf asked.

  “I’m here to see Bree.”

  “John!” she cried, racing up behind Olaf. Her heart almost burst from her chest at the sound of his voice.

  “No visitors,” Olaf said. And before either of them could protest, he slammed the door in John’s face and threw the bolt.

  “What the fuck?” Bree yelled. She made a dash for the door, but Olaf’s massive arm was around her waist before she could reach the handle. He tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of potting soil.

  “No visitors,” he repeated as he traipsed down the hallway.

  Bree tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. Olaf’s arm was like a vise, pinning her to his shoulder. He mounted the stairs two at a time and deposited Bree on her bed with a heavy bounce.

  “Olaf following orders,” he said as he left and slammed the door behind him.

  “Olaf following orders,” Bree mocked in a deep, hollow voice. “Dick.”

  “Olaf hear that,” came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

  Ugh. Bree went limp on the bed. Was she going to be trapped in the house for God only knows how long with Olaf the Gorilla as her prison guard? This was so not going to work.

  Tap. Tap tap.