by Katie Nelson
I stood behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “You’re always right. And you know it.”
“See, that’s what I like about you, Tanner. You’re not like all of them.”
“Is that why you broke your rule about dating team mates?”
“Must be. It certainly wasn’t because I was overcome by your incredible moves.” She turned, and just when I was about to kiss her, she pulled my hood down over my eyes and ran away laughing. I chased her down the beach into the surf. We kicked water at each other for a while, trying to keep our balance against the pull of the tide while the rest of the fireworks exploded in the sky above us.
When all of the fireworks had been lit, we went back to the fire and huddled together, talking, laughing, and trying to stay warm. At midnight, the fire was almost out, but we counted down anyway, cheering and making any kind of noise we could. When I was completely hoarse, Kelsey finally kissed me.
Kelsey and Peyton were staying with Peyton’s sister in the city. Garrett had to drive his groupies back to the club to pick up their cars. That left the Duke and me to kick sand over the fire and collect the trash before we crashed at his house for the night.
Back in my Bronco, the Duke leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. As I pulled onto the highway, he said, “What a night, huh?”
I let out a long breath. “Yeah. Crazy. The good kind, though.”
“Definitely the good kind.”
The next few miles passed in silence.
There were so many things I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask about Blake, and what the Duke thought he was doing, not just with Abby, but at the club tonight. I wanted to know what was on that flash drive, and why I had to hand-deliver it to Jimmy. I wanted to know if the Duke was in trouble, and if he’d even tell me if he was.
“Hey,” I finally said, hitting his arm to see if he was awake. “I almost forgot. When I delivered that package? Before Christmas?”
“Yeah?” The Duke didn’t open his eyes.
“The lady, you know, Jimmy? She gave me something to give you. I threw it in here.” I patted the console between us.
The Duke sat forward, opened his eyes, and lifted the lid. I tried to keep my eyes on the road as he shuffled through the junk in there. He pulled out some CDs, squinting to look at them in the dim light. “Really?” he asked, holding up a Kelly Clarkson album.
“That’s my mom’s.”
“Sure it is.”
He stuffed the CDs back inside then, after a few more minutes of digging, held the key in his hand.
“Found it. You’re a pig, you know that?”
I shrugged. We’d turned off the highway and were winding up the private road that led to the Duke’s house. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was two in the morning and I could barely keep my eyes open, or what, but I answered him with more hostility than I intended. “What do you expect? I’m poor white trash.”
“I know,” he said staring straight out the windshield. “That’s what I like about you. You get me.”
I scoffed.
“No, you do. This”—he indicated the electric gate that was slowly opening in front of us, revealing six garage bays and the sprawling house beyond—“this isn’t me.”
I waited for him to say more. He didn’t. Soon, we were stopped in front of the garage, and he punched a code into his phone to open the door.
While the door was rising, I managed to speak. “Well, I’d trade you. Any time you get bored of all this.”
His voice was heavy and defeated when he answered. “I wish you could, mate. I really wish you could.”
I pulled into the garage, cut the engine, and followed him into the house.
A better friend probably would have pressed the issue. A better friend would have stayed up and listened to him talk all night if he had to.
But I was too tired. I followed him upstairs and crashed in the guest room.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“TANNER. WAKE UP.”
I could barely open my eyes. It was still dark, but the light in the hall was seeping into the room. The Duke was wearing a baseball hat and dark sweatshirt, waiting for me.
“What time is it?” My head was fuzzy. My throat felt raw.
“I need your help.”
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Okay.”
“Meet me downstairs.” He threw a sweatshirt at me and left the room.
I hadn’t bothered to change out of my clothes the night before, so I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and searched for my shoes. When I found them, they were damp and sandy. Everything was. I went into the bathroom and emptied the sand from my shoes into the trashcan, then tried to brush it off my clothes.
After splashing water on my face, I found a tube of toothpaste in the medicine cabinet, squeezed some onto my finger and brushed my teeth the best I could. I still had my keys and my phone in my pocket. I checked the time—5:15. I stumbled down the stairs and found the Duke in the kitchen.
“Coffee? Tea?”
I shook my head. “Do you have a Dr. Pepper? Or a Coke?”
He opened the fridge and held out one of each. I took the Dr. Pepper and popped it open. The Duke pointed to a pink box on the counter. “They’re a day old, but better than nothing. We’ll get real breakfast when we’re done.”
I opened the box and took a maple bar. It was a little stale, but I was too tired to care.
While I chewed, the Duke fumbled with his backpack, stuffed a flashlight inside, and zipped it shut. “It’ll be easier if I drive,” he said. “Want another one?”
I grabbed a glazed donut and followed him into the garage. I had to stuff the rest of the maple bar into my mouth to dig out my keys, but the Duke took them, and though he almost hit a tree backing out, in a few minutes we were speeding down the highway.
“Where are we going?”
“Campus.”
I took another drink of my Dr. Pepper. It was still dark, and there weren’t any other cars on the road. “Why are we going there at 6:00 a.m. on New Year’s Day?”
“I need to get something.”
The Duke wouldn’t look at me, and I knew this couldn’t be good. If we were going to give blood or serve breakfast in a soup kitchen or bathe puppies or anything remotely legal, he’d tell me all about it.
“So, what, I’m on a need-to-know basis? I’m supposed to blindly follow while you plant a bomb in a nursing home?”
He sighed. “Look. It’s nothing like that. I … need you to help me get in somewhere. If I tell you anymore, then you don’t have plausible deniability.”
“Plausible deniability?”
“Yeah. At this point, you can say that you honestly didn’t know what we were doing, or why. You’re just along for the ride. Trust me. It’s better for you.”
The Duke was silent, navigating freeway interchanges as we approached downtown. I was still half asleep, lingering pieces of my dream holding my rational thoughts hostage. The radio was on, playing a song I hadn’t heard in a while, and I let myself zone out. The Duke had asked me to trust him, and in the moment, it was easier to trust him than to push for answers.
The Duke parked the Bronco on the street a couple of blocks away from campus. After he shut off the engine, he looked at me. “We’ll be in and out in five minutes. What do you say?”
It sounded exactly like a line from a movie. I wanted to laugh.
As the Duke waited for my answer, the adrenaline began to build. “Sure. Why not?”
The Duke reached into the backpack and handed me a pair of touchscreen gloves before putting on a pair himself. He pulled a hotel keycard from the front pouch and gave it to me. Quickly rereading a text, he repeated a number under his breath, then pulled his hat down low.
The streets were empty. The town was still asleep, cloud cover like a fuzzy blanket dulling the rising sun. I shut my door as softly as I could, but the clank of metal on metal seemed to echo all around us. I turned to the Duke and he pointed down the street
before taking off. I jogged to keep up.
We stopped in front of the administration building. “Okay, follow me inside, then go up to the second floor. Room 223. Take the stairs. I’ll text you.”
I nodded. The Duke swiped the keycard in the lock. It didn’t work. He tried it again, facing down. Nothing. For a moment, I wondered if we’d be caught. If this was all some kind of setup. I looked around, expecting the police to appear around a corner. The Duke breathed onto the card, wiped it on his shirt, and tried one more time. The lock clicked.
We were in.
Without speaking, I followed him inside. He pointed down the hall and we separated while I looked for the stairs. There was an elevator past the door. I kept walking. I took the stairs two at a time. Room 223 was halfway down the hall. I stood outside it and waited.
The seconds seemed to drag on and on. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. I tapped the screen on my phone every few seconds, checking the time, making sure it was still on, still charged, still getting a signal.
The sign on the door in front of me said INFORMATION SYSTEMS. I tried not to think about where we were and what the Duke was doing. I tried not to think about what I’d be doing in a minute.
What was the term the Duke had used? Plausible deniability. That was me. Don’t think. Don’t try to figure it out. Follow instructions and plead innocent if we were caught.
My phone buzzed and chirped. It sounded so loud in that hallway. I switched it to silent before reading the Duke’s text: Enter code 47866. Will open door. Go inside and turn on computer.
My fingers shaking, I typed the code into the door panel. The light flashed green and I pushed it open into a small office. There were a couple of chairs near the door and a desk in front of me separated by those carpeted cubicle walls. I walked behind it and found the surge protector, turned it on, and waited while the computer came to life.
A login window popped up on the screen. I texted the Duke.
It’s on. Need login and password.
He sent it back. Kneeling in front of the computer, trying not to touch anything that I didn’t have to, I typed in the information. My fingers were clumsy in the gloves and it took a few tries to get it right. Once I’d triple checked, I hit ENTER.
I held my breath as the cursor flashed, waiting for the computer to log in. The CPU hummed, taunting me. Finally, the screen flashed blue, the Bannerman logo came up, and icons started popping up on the desktop. Fingers still trembling, I texted I’m in.
This time, my phone rang. I answered, my voice cracking. The Duke didn’t waste time. He talked me through some pretty complicated coding, and as I followed his directions, I realized for the first time what a genius the guy was. No way was he reading instructions or spouting out something he’d been told. He knew this stuff cold.
He had me set up a new user—one who’d be untraceable—and grant it administrator access. Then I sat back and watched as the Duke, using some kind of remote control software, opened files—everything from the English department to biology to girls’ PE. They flashed on my screen so quickly I couldn’t read much, but I saw the words final exam, semester project, senior thesis.
So much for plausible deniability.
This was illegal, and I knew it. The guilt snaked through my stomach, twisting and knotting everything inside me as each new file flashed on the screen. I didn’t want to be a part of this. But I already was.
I’m not sure how long it took, but as I waited, the room gradually got lighter, the glare off the screen wasn’t as bright, and I knew we needed to get out of there.
I jumped when my phone buzzed again. Log out and shut down. Meet me downstairs.
Gladly.
That simple task seemed to take forever. The computers at my old high school were faster than this. My knees hurt from kneeling. I wanted to get out of there, out of that room, out of that building, back in my truck where I’d be able to breathe normally.
Finally, the computer went dark. I switched off the surge protector and slid the chair behind the desk. I don’t know why, but I opened the door slowly, peering into the hall before I stepped out of the office. It was clear. Jogging down the corridor, I flew down the stairs as quietly as I could. When I opened the door, the Duke was standing there, leaning against the wall, playing some game on his phone like he had nothing better to do.
We slipped out of the building and walked across campus, taking a different route. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for someone to stop us. We never saw another soul. Still, I don’t think my heartbeat slowed until we were off campus.
I’d never been so relieved to turn a corner and see my beat-up Ford Bronco in my life.
We sat in the booth at Denny’s, breathing second-hand smoke and stale coffee and staring out the window into the deserted parking lot. The waitress brought refills: coffee for the Duke, another Dr. Pepper for me. After chasing my last bite of pancake down with Dr. Pepper, I was wishing I’d gone for juice or milk, but I hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly when we got here and ordered. I took a sip and played with my straw while I waited for the Duke to finish.
“Do you think it’s some kind of company policy that every Denny’s has to smell like smoke? I mean, it’s been illegal to smoke indoors in California for ages, but have you ever been to a Denny’s that didn’t smell like smoke?”
The Duke was still chewing, so he didn’t answer for a second. My rambling hung in the air between us.
I looked over my shoulder. There were three guys seated at the counter. Truckers, I thought. Then I wondered why I assumed that. Maybe they were just guys who appreciated a big breakfast. Why was I always so quick to judge people? And what was wrong with being a trucker anyway?
I turned back to the Duke, who was reading something on his phone.
“What’s that about?” I asked, though I knew it was none of my business. I wasn’t his mother. Or his girlfriend. But since I’d committed my first felony as a favor to him, I thought I deserved some answers.
“Checking scores. Bowl games I missed.” He didn’t look at me.
“You’re a big college-football fan?”
He shrugged.
I pushed my fork around in the puddle of syrup, waiting. He took a few more bites, keeping his knife in his hand, using it to push his food onto his fork. Who ate like that?
I’d had enough. “At what point are you going to tell me what’s going on? And don’t give me anymore of that plausible deniability crap. I just committed a couple of felonies.”
The Duke set his silverware on the edge of his plate and took a sip of coffee. “You worried about getting arrested?”
“Should I be?”
He set his cup down. “Look, mate. It’s complicated. You don’t need to worry. Nobody will connect you to anything.”
“So what were those files you were copying? Tests?”
“Some.”
“You, what? You sell them?”
“If I need to. It’s more of a barter system.”
I scoffed. “Of course. Because the last thing you need is more money.”
He picked up his fork and took another bite. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
The waitress came back and asked if we needed anything else. I shook my head. The Duke gave her his fake smile and told her our five-dollar breakfast had been magnificent. She smiled and set the check on the table, telling us to take our time.
When she was out of earshot, the Duke popped his last piece of sausage into his mouth and set his fork down. Wiping his mouth, he leaned across the table. “Look. I appreciate you helping me out. I’m sorry if I haven’t been as transparent as you’d like. It’s not as exciting as you’re probably thinking. I’m more of a broker than anything. People need stuff, they come to me. They pay for it … creatively. With information. Or favors.”
I leaned into his personal space, my elbows sticking to the surface of the table, and stared him straight in the eye.
“What’s in it for me?”
He leaned back and laughed. “Really? You’re really asking me that?”
I nodded.
“Why don’t you ever get caught for breaking curfew? How did we win that last round at Long Beach? Or the first one? Why is the Stanford coach so interested in you? Should I go on?”
“I didn’t ask for that. Any of it.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t refuse it, either.” After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice softer now. “Look Tanner, this is how the world operates. Everyone else is playing this game. You want to get on your high horse and ride off into the sunset with your principles, go right ahead. Let’s see where that takes you.”
I wanted to reach across the table and punch the smug smile off his face. I imagined my fist connecting with his jaw, his head jerking back, knocking the stupid baseball hat off his head. At the same time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been a royal idiot. I knew, on some level, that he’d been calling in favors for me. And I felt a little let down as the realization hit me that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was, that at least a portion of our success had been purchased. How much of it had actually been earned? I wanted to know, but was too afraid of the answer.
“You should have told me,” I muttered, tearing up my napkin into tiny pieces.
He nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll buy breakfast. To make up for it.”
I shook my head. “No. From here on out, I’m paying my own way.” I dug into my pocket and found a crumpled five and a one-dollar bill. I threw them both on the table and stood up.
“Okay. I can respect that.” The Duke stood, too, opening up his wallet. “But can I tell you something? As a friend?”
I waited. His eyes flashed, then he smiled. “You’re a terrible tipper.”
I flicked his hat off his head. “Don’t ever wear this again. You look like a prick.”
He picked his hat up off the floor. “I’ll trade you. This hat for a ride to your house? My car is still there.”