Great

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  “Of course I knew,” Delilah continued airily, putting a protective arm around Jacinta. “She told me herself. So what?”

  “Who is Adriana DeStefano?” I whispered to Jacinta.

  For a moment, silence. And then—

  “I am, Naomi,” Jacinta said quietly, looking down at the table. “That’s my real name.”

  “She’s from Staten Island,” Teddy said, his voice dripping with acid. “Her father was a federal contractor. Bought his way into Trumbo. Into our world.”

  “Whose world?” I asked, hopelessly confused.

  “Ours,” Teddy said. “You know. Mine and Delilah’s and Jeff’s and—ours. People who come to Baxley’s. People like us.”

  He may as well have just come out and said it: the right kind of people.

  “She’s a fraud just like her father,” Teddy said. He slammed his hand down on the table. “She’s a psycho and a fraud!”

  “Teddy!” Delilah hissed. “Do not speak about her father that way. She never did anything to you, and neither did he.”

  “She never did anything?” Teddy repeated, astonished. “She never did anything to me? Are you out of your fucking mind?” He was yelling now.

  A manager hurried over and said, “Is everything all right here?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Teddy snapped. “We’re fine.”

  “Please try to keep your voice a little lower,” the manager said politely. Then he backed away.

  “Yes, Teddy, do shut up,” Delilah said.

  “You used to go to Trumbo?” I asked Jacinta. “You never told me that. Or your real name.” I couldn’t help but feel a little—well, maybe betrayed isn’t quite the word, but you’d think Jacinta would’ve trusted me enough to tell me this stuff.

  “That day when you came to my house,” I said to Delilah. “You knew who she was?”

  “Not until you left the room,” Delilah said without taking her eyes off Jacinta. “Then she told me.”

  I exhaled slowly. It was starting to make a kind of creepy sense now. All I wanted to do was zap myself home to Chicago and tell Skags everything.

  Jacinta opened her mouth and then closed it without saying anything. Her green eyes were big and watery.

  “There’s plenty she didn’t tell you, Naomi,” Teddy said. “Like how the feds put her father away for selling busted body armor to the army. Or how her family lost everything but her trust fund—which, as far as I can tell, is how she’s been funding this whole summer. Or how she’s basically just a shitty blogger from Florida.”

  “Why do you keep talking about Florida?” Delilah demanded. “She’s not from Florida. She has nothing to do with Florida.”

  Teddy’s eyes widened. A slow smirk spread across his face.

  “Oh, interesting,” he said. “So she hasn’t told you everything.”

  “Yes she has!” Delilah said, loudly and fiercely enough for neighboring tables of diners to look over curiously.

  “Really,” he said. “Tell me all about Jacinta Trimalchio, then.”

  “Please don’t,” Jacinta said faintly. “Please, just—please.”

  “After the trouble with her father, her mother took her to Europe,” Delilah said staunchly. “That’s where she grew up. Swiss boarding school. She started blogging because she missed it here and she loves fashion. She’s always loved fashion. We used to dress up together when we were little.” She grabbed Jacinta’s hand and looked at Teddy defiantly.

  “See,” she said. “I know everything. And I still love her. I love her more than I’ve ever loved you. She understands me.”

  Teddy laughed scornfully. “You know nothing,” he said. “And you don’t love her. You don’t even know her. She’s been feeding you bullshit and you swallowed it whole. After her dad went to jail, she and her mother moved to a shitty little town in Florida to live with her grandparents. Her mother’s been a stripper for years. My P.I. saw her dance. She gave him a lap dance, in fact.”

  Jacinta buried her head in her hands.

  “Oh, don’t do that, Jacinta,” Teddy said with faux sympathy. “He said she’s quite good.”

  “Th-that’s not true,” Delilah said. “You’re lying.”

  “This guy has worked for my family since I was a kid,” Teddy said. “He doesn’t lie about lap dances.”

  “You fucking asshole,” Delilah snapped. “You know that’s not what I mean. She grew up in Europe, not Florida. Didn’t you, Jacinta?”

  Jacinta kept her head buried in her hands, not responding.

  “Didn’t you?” There was a note of desperation in Delilah’s voice. Jacinta’s answer, when it came, was very small and quite muffled.

  “No,” Jacinta said.

  Delilah sat back in her chair, visibly shocked. I cast a quick, begging look at Jeff, who was watching the scene unfold with rapt attention. I wanted no part of any of this.

  “No?” Delilah repeated.

  “No,” Jacinta said, raising her head up. Her face was stained with tears and with the mascara that was running down her cheeks.

  “He’s right,” Jacinta said. “I didn’t go to Swiss boarding school. I haven’t been to Europe since my father took us to visit his family in Italy when I was five.”

  Delilah just looked at her, mouth slightly open.

  “Our housekeepers used to bring us to school together. I didn’t recognize you at all,” Jeff said with fascinated awe.

  “Well, the nose job probably threw you off,” Teddy said snidely. “That’s new. She got it when she got her trust fund. Eighteenth birthday.”

  “Jesus!” Jacinta burst forth, her eyes fiery with anger. “What are you, some kind of stalker?”

  “I think that’s your job description,” Teddy said. “Along with con artist. So you lied to everybody about your name and where you came from, and even when you told Delilah the ‘truth’ about where you’ve been for the past seven years, it was still a lie. What else did you make up?”

  Jacinta looked at Delilah, who was now staring at her hands. Then she looked at Teddy.

  “It’s over, Adriana,” Teddy said, his voice thick with satisfaction.

  Jacinta turned back to Delilah in a panic.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about where I really grew up,” Jacinta said quickly. “I’m really sorry. It was just. . . it was such a bad time. It was so, so awful there. My stepfather. . . it was terrible. I wanted you to think I’d had a nice life. You don’t know what it’s been like the past seven years.. . .”

  Delilah looked confused, which Teddy took as an invitation to speak again.

  “We could sue you, you know,” he said to Jacinta, his voice rising with each word. “We could sue your ass off for fraud. It’s a family tradition, right?”

  “Fuck you,” Jacinta said, loud enough to invite the attention of nearby diners. One couple scowled at her. Their blond twin little girls stared.

  The manager hurried up again, this time accompanied by two valets.

  “I think it’s time for all of you to go,” he said firmly. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it’s affecting the rest of the restaurant.”

  “Don’t worry, man,” Teddy said, standing up and stretching lazily. “We’re going.”

  The manager waited to lead us all out, with the valets bringing up the rear. Teddy followed the manager, walking with a jaunty bounce in his step, smiling and saying hi to acquaintances and family friends as if nothing were wrong. Jeff followed. Then came me, and then—whispering frantically back and forth the whole time—Delilah and Jacinta. I couldn’t catch what they were saying, and I couldn’t even really guess. I wanted to take them both aside and get the real story, but was there even a real story? Who exactly was conning who, anyway? My mind was whirling. I wanted to believe Jacinta wasn’t a total phony. She was still my friend, and she was obviously hurting.

  We passed a dejected-looking Giovanni, who was wiping down the bar.

  “Bad night for both of us, man,” Teddy said to Giova
nni.

  “I guess so,” he said in a dull voice.

  By the time we got outside, other valets had already brought our cars around.

  “You girls have a nice ride home,” Teddy said pleasantly, waving as they drove off with Jacinta in the driver’s seat. The manager stood outside uneasily for a moment before turning around and walking back into the restaurant.

  “I’d say this calls for a cigar,” Teddy said, pulling two out of his back pocket.

  “You had these the whole time, man?” Jeff asked, laughing. He took one from Teddy.

  “I knew tonight was gonna be a celebration,” Teddy said, smiling. He looked at the valets. “It’s cool if we stay a little while, right? I just can’t smoke this in my car—my mom would freak out if she smelled smoke in it.”

  “No problem, man,” said one of the valets. “Just, if my manager comes out, you’re probably gonna have to go.”

  “Yeah, you’re gonna have a new manager on Monday,” Teddy said. “Trust me. I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make about tonight.”

  “Fine with me, man,” another valet said. “That guy’s a dick, anyway.”

  Teddy laughed and high-fived the valet, then turned to me.

  “Sorry I don’t have an extra for you, Naomi,” he said.

  “That’s fine,” I said, and wandered away while they puffed on their stogies. When would this nightmare of an evening end?

  “Man,” I heard Jeff say to Teddy, “I knew Jacinta was weird, but I never would’ve predicted this. What are you gonna do?” Any sympathy he’d previously shown her seemed to have disappeared. Jeff’s alliance was clearly with Teddy.

  “What am I gonna do?” Teddy repeated with a hard laugh. “Make sure everybody in this town knows exactly who she really is. You remember what it was like when we were kids. Her last name was like a curse word. All those stories in the papers, all those reporters outside Trumbo. . . she’ll be gone in no time. Back to the swamp she slithered out of.”

  “Could you really sue her?” Jeff asked.

  “You can sue anybody for anything,” Teddy said. “But she’s not worth it. As long as she gets out of here, everything’s fine.”

  They went back and forth for a few more minutes about Jacinta the fraud, Jacinta the liar, Jacinta Jacinta Jacinta, as if I wasn’t even there. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. Jacinta had lied to me and everybody else in town, but she wasn’t a monster.

  Then the manager re-emerged from the restaurant, his face livid.

  “I told you all to get out of here,” he said.

  Teddy chomped on his cigar and chuckled, turning his back to the guy.

  “Hey, sir, we’re leaving,” Jeff said in a conciliatory tone. “Just taking a few minutes to have a cigar. We don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “You’ve already caused enough,” the manager said. “Now get in your car and leave.”

  At this, Teddy whipped around, stomped over to the manager, and got right in his face.

  “What’s your problem, bro?” Teddy shouted as Jeff tried to pull him off. “We’re not bothering anybody out here. You already ruined our dinner. Do you know who my father is?”

  The manager, who was about five inches shorter than Teddy, drew himself up to his full height.

  “I don’t care who your father is,” he said slowly and loudly. “I care about my customers. And you ruined your own dinner.”

  Teddy reared back and shoved the man, hard. The manager stumbled backward and landed on his butt on the gravel driveway.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Jeff said, pulling Teddy away. “C’mon, man. C’mon. We don’t need you to get arrested.”

  “Like this asshole would call the cops on me,” Teddy said. He spit on the ground.

  The valets helped the manager to his feet.

  “You’re banned from this restaurant, kid,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Don’t bother coming back to Baxley’s.”

  “My father has a standing reservation,” Teddy shot back. “I’ll be back tomorrow if I want.”

  Jeff looked at me urgently. “C’mon, Naomi,” he said. “Let’s get in the car. Teddy, let’s get in the car. We’re all getting in the car. I can drive.”

  “I’m driving!” Teddy roared. “I’m the only one who drives this car!”

  “Okay, buddy, okay,” Jeff said. “No worries, man. Let’s just get back to Delilah’s house.”

  “I’ll take a cab, I think,” I said. One thing was clear: Teddy was still drunk, and I did not want to get in a car with him.

  “You’ll get out of here immediately,” the manager said. “With them.”

  It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice.

  “Delilah,” Teddy muttered as we all got in the car. “Adriana DeStefano’s probably, like, wearing her skin by now. All Silence of the Lambs and shit. You seen Silence of the Lambs, Naomi?”

  “No,” I said quietly. I kept thinking about what my dad had taught me: Never get in the car with a drunk driver. Call me. I’ll come pick you up. I won’t be mad. But my dad was far away now, and I wasn’t even sure where my mother was.

  “You gotta watch Silence of the Lambs,” Teddy said over the noise of the engine. He gunned it and screeched out of the restaurant’s driveway. I fell back against the seat.

  “Easy, bro,” Jeff said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Teddy shrugged it off.

  “You telling me how to drive now, man?” Teddy asked.

  “’Course not,” Jeff said. “We all know what a great driver I am.” Teddy cackled.

  “Naomi!” he boomed, suddenly in good spirits again. “This guy ever tell you how many times he failed his road test?”

  “No, he sure didn’t,” I said, gripping my knees. I’d been in a car with a speeding Teddy once before, but this time he was weaving back and forth a little bit as well.

  “Three times!” Teddy yelled, laughing. “Three times!”

  “Wow,” I said. “Three times. Well, I don’t even have my driver’s license.”

  “How do you get around?” Teddy asked.

  “I walk,” I said.

  He thought that was the most amusing thing he’d ever heard.

  “She walks!” he said to Jeff, laughing. “I love this chick! She’s hilarious!”

  “She’s pretty funny,” Jeff said, smiling at me. I ignored him. I just wanted this night to be over already. More than anything else, I wanted to get home, call Skags up, and debrief her about the insane turn things had taken.

  “If that psycho bitch is at Delilah’s house when we get back, I’m calling the cops,” Teddy vowed.

  “I hear you, man,” Jeff said. “I just don’t know what they’d arrest her for.”

  “Lying!” Teddy boomed. “Misleading honorable citizens!” He drove through a stop sign, and a car swerved to miss hitting him.

  After a couple more minutes on Route 27, Dr. Zazzle’s billboard came into view. There was a commotion underneath it. In the twilight hour, it was a little hard to see what exactly what happening, but the flashing lights up ahead were unmistakable.

  “Slow down, man, slow down!” Jeff said suddenly. “There are cops over there!”

  Teddy laid on the brakes, and we were all jolted forward. He slowed to a crawl and turned his head, watching the scene with fascination. A police officer was interviewing a cyclist who was standing beside his bike. A little farther down, emergency workers rushed to load a twisted body onto a stretcher. A second officer watched over them as they worked.

  “Looks bad,” Teddy said with evident excitement. “Let’s ask the cop what happened!”

  “Bad idea, man,” Jeff said. “Just keep going.”

  “No, no, we’re gonna stop,” Teddy said. “It’s like these old movies my cousin used to show me. Faces of Death. You got to see real car crashes on, like, the Autobahn and stuff. Nasty as hell.”

  “This is sick,” I said as Teddy pulled over. “This is seriously sick.”

  Teddy looked surprised.

 
; “No, it’s not,” he said. “I just wanna know what happened.” With that, he bounded out of the car and over to the officer standing by the emergency workers.

  “Let’s go after him,” Jeff said, sighing. “He does stuff like this when he’s drunk.”

  “You go after him,” I said crossly. “I’m staying right here. He’s the psycho.”

  “He’s just having a rough night,” Jeff said defensively. “He’s a good guy.”

  I was about to unleash a few choice words about Jeff’s definition of a “good guy” when we heard a sudden wail behind us. We both twisted around and looked through the rear window. Teddy was on his knees, his head in his hands, while the officer bent down.

  “Did that noise come from Teddy?” Jeff said, aghast. He leapt out of the car. I followed.

  We ran up and heard the officer say, “Do you know her, son?” He had a soothing hand on Teddy’s back.

  That’s when I saw the girl on the stretcher, her white T-shirt splattered with her own blood, half her face sheared off by the road. It was Misti.

  Teddy shook his head back and forth, his hands covering his face. I gasped and balled my hands up into fists, as if the pressure of my nails digging into the soft skin of my palms could distract me from what I was seeing. Jeff leaned over and puked.

  Then she—or what was left of her—was gone, shut inside the ambulance, which turned on its lights and screeched away from the roadside. The other officer finished up his interview and jogged over to where we stood. The first officer helped Teddy to his feet.

  “Sh-she’s a server at Baxley’s,” Teddy said, his face ashen. “Her name is Misti.”

  “We’ll go down the road and tell them,” one of the cops said.

  “What happened?” Jeff asked weakly, wiping his mouth.

  The other cop pointed to a mangled bicycle lying half-hidden by brush. “She was on her bike. Witness was a little far off but said a car came by, plowed into her, kept going.”

  “She’s alive, though,” Teddy said shakily. “Right? She’s alive?”

  “For now,” said the cop who’d been interviewing the witness. “Next twenty-four hours will be crucial. You know her family or any people we should contact?”