Crushing Summer

by C. M. Stunich

  “Gee,” I said, trying not to let my voice rise more than a couple of octaves. “That doesn't sound creepy or stalkerish at all.” Cage laughed, but it was a nervous laugh, I could tell. It was hard to believe that I'd make the King act like … well, like a teenager. Maybe he really did like me after all?

  “I'm not a part of it,” he said quickly and then held up his hands like he was trying to ward off any attacks I might launch at him. “Well, not for the reasons that everybody else is. I'm not trying to hit on you or anything.” Again, another pause. He smiled and my heart skipped a beat. “Okay, that's not entirely true. I guess what I'm trying to say is, there's a group dedicated to following you. Someone posted a few minutes ago that you were on your way here in your mother's car. I knew you'd be followed. I tried to call you, but … ”

  “I didn't answer,” I supplied, trying to smile back at him. I kept hearing Heidi's words playing over and over again in my head. “So you came out to protect me?” Cage nodded and then shrugged, like it was no big deal. To him though, I could tell that it was. Either he really liked me or he was serious about trying to keep everyone safe this year, I wasn't sure. “I wish I could tell you that I was creeped out,” I said. “But I'm kind of glad you're here.” I watched the guys behind him, surprised when I was able to pick out a few faces I recognized. One of them was Nick Bishop, this year's Assigned Bad Boy. If he was around, trouble would follow. It was strange though that he'd show up here, and with flowers in his hand. If they weren't those trick kind that squirt water in your face when you sniff them, then I was shocked.

  Cage looked relieved and reached down to pluck at the fabric of his shirt.

  “I hope you'll forgive the outfit,” he said and then shrugged like there was nothing that could be done about it. “I was in the middle of something.” I gave him a very slow once-over and he grinned. “I hope you're only check me out,” he said. “And not the clothes.”

  “Do I want to know?” I asked, wishing Heidi was here to see Cage Lawrence dressed like one of the bums that hung out in the parking lot in front of the grocery outlet store. She'd have gotten a kick out of it. She also would've snapped a picture, just in case. She used to do that all the time, with friends, with her boyfriends, with mine. She called it collateral. Again, though, that was before Justin. The Heidi Moreau I knew would've had at least a dozen pieces of really nasty collateral by this point. As far as I knew, she had none.

  “Not unless you want a really boring sob story about my father and how much he hates to see his only 'remaining',” Cage made quotes with his fingers. “Son lazing about the house and playing murder mystery games.” I raised one brow. Now I was intrigued. “Shall we?” he asked, holding out a hand. I took it without hesitation, but there wasn't a second there where I forgot that Casper Alice was nearby and that tomorrow, we had our second date planned in secret.

  “Murder mystery, huh?” I asked as Cage and I stepped up onto the sidewalk and moved towards the double front doors and the sound of oldies music filtering into the parking lot. The Beach Boys were playing currently, and I could only hope they didn't have them on repeat like they had last year. If I had to listen to “All I Wanna Do” one more time, I might very well run out of there screaming.

  “Only he'd have the audacity to call it that,” Cage said, his voice tinny and hollow, like this was something that had been going on for awhile, something that he'd accepted but didn't like. “It's only a mystery, of course, if you don't know who did it. For the crime of poring over last year's news articles on my laptop, I got to not only mow the grass down at the shop, but I also got to paint the exterior. Tomorrow, if I'm lucky, I'll help with inventory.” Cage paused as soon as we entered the building, letting his gray eyes sweep the crowd once before visibly relaxing. As I'd originally thought, there wasn't a single person from our school here that I recognized. Lots of old ladies in wide-brimmed summer hats maybe, but not many teenagers. Their loss; there weren't many other places in a three or more hour radius where you could find brand new designer jeans and shoes for a quarter of their original cost, not even at the Lawrence's store. It was time to get rid of these sundresses once and for all.

  “You're talking about Justin then?” I asked, watching his face as I guided him towards the booths in the middle of the room. They were the least busy and also the most likely to have the good stuff. I was good at combing places like this. Even Heidi had to admit that I had a knack for finding good stuff, even at flea markets which she absolutely despised. I had other friends I could take along, but right now, in the middle of all of this Assignment crap, I didn't much feel like calling any of them up. They'd either be too busy playing their role – like Anne Chime who hadn't set foot outside the junior college since she'd gotten her Valedictorian title – or too busy chasing Pat around as part of his growing entourage.

  I glanced over my shoulder, but my admirers had paused at the door. I guess the combination of the King and piles and piles of discount clothing were enough to repel even the most hardcore Students.

  “He's the only person I know who had motive to kill Tatiana, who would've had any reason to meet with her up on Sea Ridge, and who drives a black Mustang convertible in this town.” Cage shrugged like the case was closed, at least in his mind. I felt the flow of people ebbing around us like water around a rock. Even here, the adults knew who we were and they were watching us out of the corners of their eyes, studying the newest generation of the Assigned. I wondered if any of them were thinking nostalgically about their time in The Assignment or if any of them had something to hide. I tried not to think of the Crush back in '99 but failed and got a little shiver down my spine.

  “And why's that?” I asked him, pausing to finger the edge of a black dress that was hanging on a nearby rack. “I mean, why would he have arranged to meet her there? Sea Ridge at night is a weird place to be, the beach part of it anyway,” I added in case he thought I was digging at him for being at the park with Shayla. I took a deep breath and forced myself forward. My honesty policy had its low points, but I was sticking with it. “I actually heard a rumor today that you might've been seeing her on the side?” Cage stopped walking completely, making me stumble a bit as I unhooked my arm from his and turned to face him. His skin was pale, not like Casper's, but his cheeks had lost that warm, sun-loved complexion he usually had, and his eyes were wide with surprise. He hadn't expected me to find that out. It made me really believe then that Heidi was telling the truth.

  “Who told you that?” he asked then. He didn't deny it, didn't make excuses. Believe it or not, it made me like him just a little more.

  “A friend,” I said. I didn't want to lie to him, but I wasn't giving out Heidi's name either. I didn't want her involved in this anymore than I wanted her to be with Justin. Honestly, the way she was acting was almost enough to convince me that Cage was right, that Justin really was the killer. Heidi seemed scared of him, almost too eager to please. I wonder if that's how Tatiana had felt in her last few weeks on this earth, crushed by the press of suitors, trapped by a jealous boyfriend. I bit at my lip. It was all kind of like a bad soap opera, one that I really wished I wasn't a part of. “Is it true?”

  Cage sighed and his face fell for a second, giving him an all too human look of angst that turned him from handsome to gorgeous. He always looked untouchable, almost emotionless but in a good way, like he was just so in control of himself that he didn't need to show all his cards to the world. Right then, he just looked sad.

  “It's true,” he told me, but he didn't elaborate, choosing instead to change the subject. “What are we here for anyway?”

  “You were having an affair?” I continued, trying to keep my voice down but wanting to push the issue as far as I could go before he clamped up. Cage didn't respond, just kept walking. I trailed along beside him, past a table piled high with hats covered in bird feathers. Interesting.

  “She didn't like Justin anymore,” Cage told me, voice low, like he was speaking about a conspira
cy. “She wanted to break up with him, but he was too thrilled to be dating the Crush to let her go.” Cage stopped talking and looked over at me like he was trying to judge if I was ready for this next bit of information or not. “Even though everyone knew he was cheating on her with Heidi Moreau.” I nodded and he shook his head. His dark hair was almost blue under the fluorescent lighting, and for the first time ever I wondered if it was real, if it was his natural color.

  “But you were with Shayla Harold?” I prompted unapologetically. I was going to get to the bottom of all this. I had to. If anyone was in danger – Heidi, Casper, Julie, me – then I needed to have all the answers. Cage stopped next to another booth, my favorite one actually, that I remembered from last year. There were hand painted signs stuck all over the outside of the tented covering the owner had used to mark her space. Most of them had curling edges or rips, some were even taped together, but all the ones from last year that I could remember were still there along with a whole host of new ones. It seemed like an odd thing to remember, but I'd snapped a picture of it for my whole. I recognized the glittery white sign with the tabby cat on it, the blue one with the sea turtle painted in high gloss, the laminated sheet of legal notepad with the wishing well sketch.

  “How much for this?” Cage asked the woman with the orange dreadlocks sitting in the camping chair in the back. He had the edge of a white shirt sleeve clutched in his hand. I moved around him, gingerly stepping onto the oriental rug that was lying on the floor of the 'shop'. There was so much stuff crammed into this tiny space, it was hard to believe that it was only here temporarily.

  “Thirty dollars,” she said without evening looking up at him. He pulled the item off the rack and I saw with surprise that it was a cashmere Henley shirt, a Vince Merino I think. It wasn't as cool or quirky as the stuff that Casper wore, but it was an awesome find, worth at least ten times that.

  “Good eye,” I said, and he smiled.

  “A side effect of having parents who own a boutique,” he replied. “A hazard of the trade, if you will.”

  “So were you?” I repeated, bringing his attention back around full circle. I glanced at the woman and noticed the tattoos that climbed up her arms. They were all sea creatures – turtles, dolphins, sharks, all kinds of fish, even some starfish. It reminded me of my new friends, and I smiled. Fortunately, she wasn't looking up, all of her attention focused on the screen of a Kindle, so she didn't see me grinning like an idiot. It also gave me and Cage the chance to browse without feeling like we were being eavesdropped on. The inside of this booth was a million miles away from the rest of the expo, shadowed from the fluorescents above and packed wall to wall with stuff. Two bronze lamps glowed in the back corners.

  “Shayla and I dated for a couple of months, but it wasn't serious,” Cage said, sliding clothing across a metal rack. I wasn't trying to be sexist or anything, but I'd never seen a guy so comfortable shopping for clothes before. It was kind of nice. “I think she was only interested in me because I was the Heartthrob,” he said, reminding me that he'd been titled last year, too. It wasn't often you saw someone get two of the most prized Assignments in the game. Something about Cage just resonated with the rest of the student body I guess. “And that was just one of the reasons that Tatiana didn't want to be seen going out with me, because of all the hype. She just liked things to be quiet and unassuming.”

  “Is that why Shayla's so … angry with you?” I asked him, remembering her facial expression at The Walk, the way she'd look at me like I was her worst enemy.

  “Maybe,” Cage said with another sigh. But even he didn't seem entirely convinced. I looked over at him, but he wasn't giving anything away with his facial expression. He was back to being Cage Lawrence, King of the Assignment, confident, rich, perfect. It was nice to know that at least there was something more underneath all of that. I decided to drop the subject for the time being. I could only take so much of this before my head started to spin.

  “I hope the car isn't plastered with declarations of love when we get out there,” I said and Cage chuckled, sending goose bumps across my body as my mind treated me to another daydream of him sitting in a leather chair in a library, watching a crackling fire. I added some vampire fangs to the image and tried not to swoon. Come on, what girl doesn't like a good vampire fantasy? They might be overplayed, but there's a reason for that, right?

  “I have a feeling it just might be,” he said, grabbing another set of items from the rack and layering them over the Henley shirt. When he saw me watching he shrugged. “I thought if I brought back a peace offering for the shop, I might get out of landscaping the front walk. It's doubtful but worth a try.” I smiled and moved across the rug and around a bin filled with tank tops. Standing next to Cage I could almost feel the confidence rolling off of him in waves. He believed truly and completely in what he was doing, and he wasn't ashamed of it. I imagined that even if he later found out he'd made a mistake, that he'd smile and shrug it off, move onto the next thing with an apology and forget all about it. He didn't seem one to dwell, and I had a really hard time imagining him getting embarrassed over anything.

  “There will be flowers, for sure,” I said, spotting a black shirt with lace sleeves. It reminded me of something Julie might wear, so I grabbed it, pinching the soft fabric between my fingers and rubbing it gently. “Probably some melted chocolates.”

  “Balloons tied to the side mirrors,” Cage added, and I wondered if he was speaking from experience. “Confessions of love scribbled on notebook paper, folded up, and taped to the driver's side door.”

  “Locks of hair tied with ribbon plastered across the hood.” Cage laughed so hard he nearly dropped his stack of clothes, and I grinned. There was a real guy underneath all of that calm, and he was pretty freaking awesome. My mind flittered back to that moment when his lips touched mine, the taste of his mouth, the fireworks. I liked Cage, I decided then. A lot. He was a good person, and someday, he'd be a perfect partner.

  I moved onto another rack and started flipping through dresses. Even discounted, some of these were in the hundreds, definitely out of my budget.

  “A GPS tracking device hidden underneath the bumper.” I snorted and leaned on the rack to catch my breath.

  “Photoshopped pictures of our future children laminated and in scrapbooks, scattered all across my driveway when I get home.” Cage started laughing again which only made me laugh more and before I knew it, I was sitting on my butt on that oriental rug holding my side and laughing until the tears came. I couldn't even stop to pay the woman, so Cage paid for me and helped me to my feet.

  “Thank you,” I told him, wiping at my face with shaking fingers. He grinned and flashed me white teeth, fishing out a cigarette from his pocket as we made our way to the exit.

  “No problem,” he said, hooking his arm through mine and helping me navigate the growing crowd of shoppers. “I figured it was the least I could do considering the barrage of terrible singing telegrams that'll be arriving at your house by the dozen.”

  We both laughed again, and it didn't stop being funny, no matter how many times we went back and forth.

  It didn't stop being funny until we got outside and saw my mother's BMW.

  Until I saw the smashed windows and the slit tires, the keyed doors and the car paint, in bright pink, that was scrawled across the trunk. Just four little words, nothing special, nothing menacing, just a reminder that no matter how hard I tried, The Assignment was in charge of my future, not me.

  Happy Crushing, Chloe Summer.

  Cage drove me back to my house while I chewed at my nails and tried to put together a text message to send my mom. Car got trshed. Had 2 leave it @ the xpo was not going to cut it. I could call her, of course, but that thought alone was enough to chill my blood. When she found out her BMW was not useable, that it was sitting there windowless and destroyed, she was going to flip out. I would never get to use her or dad's cars again. I'd be trapped at home, surrounded by Students. In my mind I
pictured a scenario where I was huddled in my bed while half the boys at my school (plus a handful of girls) clawed at my window and moaned like zombies.

  Finally, I sighed and leaned my head back against the seat. I was just going to have to wait for her to get home from work. That was it. I couldn't do it.

  “I'm sorry about your car,” Cage said as he adjusted the air conditioning. Today was turning into a scorcher. The sun was grinning down at us and there wasn't a cloud to be seen. Even the breeze was non-existent. “I mean, your mom's car,” he corrected himself, probably thinking of the miniature freakout I'd had in the parking lot.

  “Thanks,” I said, sounding a lot more tired than I meant to. I'd had a good time, really. And I didn't regret going out. If someone was planning on going that far, it would've happened no matter where I'd been. “I just can't imagine who would go that far.” I looked over at Cage who was squinting at the road like he could decipher something in the yellow lines. “Besides, isn't that against the rules anyway? I'm Crush. Isn't everyone supposed to be in love with me?” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. Even if I didn't mean it the way it sounded, it was still a pretty conceited thing to say.

  “Jealous girl?” Cage hazarded and then shook his head like he didn't believe that either. Suddenly his lips pursed and the skin on his face got tight. It hit me at the same moment it hit him.

  “Shayla?” I asked and he winced like the name was painful to him.