She giggles again. “Okay, suck it in and hold your breath.”
I do as she instructs… a few times. “I still don’t think it’s working.”
“Well, then I give up.” She puts it out and tosses the rest out the window.
We return to our seats on the couch. Upon sitting down, I begin to feel a little lightheaded. My vision is a little cloudy at the edges, but there is a calm over it all. That’s when my best friend turns to me. “Becca, what is going on with you?”
“I’m just coping. What do you mean?”
“You’re acting different—Like your nerd streak is broken.”
“My heart is broken.”
“Aw, Bee, I’m sorry.” She scoots closer.
“And you wanna know what’s so crazy? If he came here this instant and asked me to come back to his house, I would totally go with him.” I turn to face her green eyes. “And what does that make me?”
She doesn’t respond, my pain reflected in her eyes.
“Pathetic.” I answer for her.
“You are not pathetic, Becca.”
“I am. I’m so lame. I don’t know how I let myself get like this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
We sit there for a second, not saying a thing while the last words resonate in the quiet apartment. ‘It’s not your fault.’ I needed to hear that.
Meggie breaks the silence. “What are we watching? Let’s change the channel.”
“Meg, the TV isn’t on.”
She bursts into giggles. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” We erupt into a chorus of laughter. In this moment, I don’t have a care in the world. Laughter is the best medicine and I need my dose.
Matt’s cousin, Cam, finally called us back. They have been tracking this ‘Godfather’ goon for months. He was centralized on the Oneonta University Campus. They have someone undercover on campus and a big bust is supposed to go down soon.
The rest is a waiting game. Like I said before, that’s what I hate the most.
It took almost a week before he called us again. The bust was successful. ‘The Godfather’ is in custody. They are holding him for questioning for us.
Matt and I ride the hour to the Otsego County Station in upstate New York as soon as we hear. Matt sleeps the whole way. When we finally pull up to the large precinct, Matt is suddenly all revved up.
“Cam! How’s it going?” Matt runs up to the group of officers congregating in front of the door.
“Matty Todd! Long time no see.” They embrace.
Matt and Cam play catch up as I introduce myself to his crew. They are still involved in chitchat when I butt in.
“Can we interview the perp. yet?”
Matt glares back at me. “Sorry about my partner – he’s a little anxious.”
Cam glances over at me. “Nah, it’s fine. He’s in holding – let me put him in an interrogation room. Boys, you want to show them the way?”
A few of the other men take us into the station. It’s huge compared to ours. Even smells like fresh paint. We enter the room with the two-way mirror and pass through to the interrogation room. ‘The Godfather’ is sitting in a metal chair, still handcuffed and resting on the table.
“This is ‘The Godfather’?” I glance back to ask. The guy can’t be more than eighteen. He looks like a total punk – head shaved, dirty fingernails, skinny, complete with the oversized hoodie.
“This is him, man.” Cam slaps me on the back. “He’s all yours.”
They close the door behind them, leaving me alone with this punk, ‘Godfather’ drug dealer.
“Who did you sell GHB to recently?” My voice comes out calm: calmer than I expected.
“Why do you want to know?” The kid has the nerve to mouth off.
“A girl almost got raped, that’s why.”
“Almost – doesn’t sound like you have much of a case.” He snickers.
I slam my palms down on the metal table, meeting his eyes at their level. He leans back slightly. “You leave that to me.”
“What do I get out of this?”
“The chance to do a good deed. You know, karma and all.”
“Nah, I need something more concrete than that.” For a punk, he sure is smart.
“—How about I don’t knock your front teeth out.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“A promise.” I snicker.
His eyes glare into mine. “You care about this girl.”
“I care about men taking advantage of defenseless college students.”
“Nah, that’s not it. This one girl is personal.” Too smart.
“Are you a psychic or a drug dealer?” My words must hurt him.
“You’d be surprised how the two coincide.”
“The GHB?” I reiterate.
“Well.” The perpetrator sighs as he leans back in his chair. “GHB is a special request item. I don’t keep that in my bag of tricks. I got a special batch just for this guy, real weasely looking kid. Probably couldn’t get laid without it; thought I’d help him out.”
“Names; we need names.”
“Uh, Pat something…”
“Last name!”
“I don’t know last names – it’s like drug dealer 101.”
“Well, where can we find this Pat?”
“I don’t know if he goes to school, but he hangs out there a lot. His family owns the steakhouse on the corner.”
Patty’s Steakhouse is situated on the corner outside the Oneonta campus. Cam backs us up as we head over there. It’s about lunchtime when we entered, but the place is empty. The only people around are waiters and a bartender cleaning and setting for the dinner rush.
The woman at the hostess stand is an elderly lady. Her curly grey hair is wrapped up in a bun and she looks alarmed as we enter.
“Sorry, guys, dinner doesn’t start until five pm.”
“We aren’t here for that, ma’am.” Cam takes the lead. “We are looking for Pat.”
“Pat? Why would the police be looking for my son?”
“We have reason to believe that he has information on a local drug dealer.”
“Drugs? Oh, no, you have the wrong kid. My Patty wouldn’t be involved in something like that.”
My fists clench at my sides. “She’s lying.” I’ve seen it a million times, the way her eyes can’t meet Cam’s as she says it. She just wiped her sweaty palms on her dress.
Matt glares at me and snickers. “Calm down, Smith. We are only here for back up.”
Cam takes control of the interview again. “Ma’am, we just need to talk to him. Where is he?”
“He’s not here.” She finally meets his eyes again.
“Fuck this.” I push past Matt, Cam, and his partner and push this lady up against the wall. “I’ve driven an awfully long way to get some answers. I’ll be damned if this punk’s little mommy is going to bullshit me.”
“Smith!” they scream, tugging me off the woman. But my eyes and grip remain locked.
Her hands shake as she leers at me. “Fine. But I wasn’t lying – he’s not here.”
“Where is he?” I continue.
“We just sent him back to school.”
“What school?”
“North Commons University.”
I release her hold at the name of the college. I glance back at Matt, whose eyes soften in realization. Cam takes a step forward and our eyes flick to him. Fuck.
“Ugh.” My face plants into the pile of papers on my desk. “I’m never going to remember all this crap.”
Meggie glances up from her phone. The wine in her glass swirls, eying me with that look of hers. “Bee, you have been over that study packet like a hundred times. Put it down and come out with me.”
I lift my head up, a stray Post-it stuck to my cheek. “Uh, no,” I scoff.
“I’m serious.” Meggie walks around the counter to hover beside me. “I don’t even know what this criminal crap is, but it’s giving me a hea
dache already.”
“I need to study.”
“You have studied enough. If it’s not embedded in that huge dorky brain of yours already, then all hope is lost.”
Our eyes meet and we squint at each other before we both crack into giggles. “My brain is not that big.”
Meggie laughs, that giggle of hers where her freckles all align when she tilts her head back. “No, it’s not.” She rubs the top of my head. “But, really, you need to put this crap away and come have one drink.” My head whips away from her touch. “Just one! Pleeeease?” She gives me that face, knowing I hate that face.
“Your faces won’t work on me, Satan.”
“Damn,” she mutters, collapsing into the seat beside me. “My powers have no effect on you, mutant.”
My eyes widen in disbelief. “Now who’s the dork?”
“I was just trying to speak your language.”
“Nice try.”
She climbs to her feet, calling over her shoulder while making her way to her room. “We are going out for a drink.”
“No we aren’t.” I call after her.
“Yes, we are.”
I don’t know how Meggie does it, but no matter what she always seems to get her way. We are walking all the way across campus to Fraternity Row. Megs dressed up in skinny jeans and knee-high boots. Meanwhile, I literally just brushed my hair and was dragged out in my dirty jeans and navy school hoodie. Truth is, I don’t care. I’m only going out to forget—That, and the free beer. We walk up to an unfamiliar fraternity house. This one seems nicer than the others. The outside looks like a smaller version of the White House. Inside it is in pristine condition, all white and clean. We are greeted by a group of girls and that’s when I realize why – this is a sorority.
I’m getting dirty looks as soon as I wander in beside Meggie. Maybe I should have changed. I don’t fit in here. Meggie says her greetings before dragging me into the corner, no doubt trying to hide me from these uptight sluts.
“Bee, would it have killed you to change?” she hisses.
“Probably.” I steal a handful of pretzels off the white fireplace.
“Ugh.”
“They got a nice set up here.” I chew.
“Don’t get used to it. I have a feeling we won’t be invited back.”
“Why, my dick not big enough?” I joke.
“Shh.”
“Oh, what do you care, Megs?”
Just then, the door busts open and a swarm of frat boys come stomping in, loudly and obnoxiously – finally, some cool people.
The sorority girls’ look taken back. Some attempt to hide the glassware is made, but no one throws them out.
“I think this party just got interesting.”
“Becca, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Define stupid.”
“Social suicide.”
“Hmm, we’ll see.”
“We’ll see?” she screams after me, but I’m following the guy with the keg.
The rest of the night is a mash-up of red cups and fraternity boys. I never saw Meggie again that night, but I do remember accidentally stumbling on some stuck up sorority girl’s foot and spilling beer all over her white dress. Oops. That got me kicked out.
Now all I can see is the line of street lamps as I wander across campus. The night air breezes through my thin hoodie and I shiver, pulling it close to me. What I wouldn’t do to have Meg here with me. Why do I always end up alone? The thought brings with it the emotions I’m still not prepared to deal with. My cheeks are wet. The only reason I feel them is that they are causing me to grow even colder.
I sniffle, wiping them away as fast as they come. That is, until I can no longer control them. Tears filter down my cheeks unbidden and I allow them.
Truth is – maybe I need them. Maybe I deserve them. I deserve the cold and tears because, how could Rebecca Swanson be so goddamn stupid?
An alarm is blaring from somewhere deep in the apartment. My bedroom door is wide open, causing the grating sound to echo against my tiny four walls.
I groan, “Meggie, shut that crap off.” Meggie’s response never comes. After rubbing my eyes, I glance over at my alarm clock. Bright red numbers read: 9:57. “Crap!”
Throwing the blanket off, my head is pounding. I stumble over to my closet and throw on a clean hoodie. My feet somehow find their way into a pair of moccasins by the door before I grab my notebook and stumble into the living area. Meggie’s alarm is still beeping behind her closed door.
“Meggie!” I try once more from the kitchen, stealing a water bottle from the door of the fridge. “Meggie, you’re going to be late for class.”
“I don’t care,” she vaguely grumbles from what sounds like ten pillows.
“I’m leaving. Let that guy out before I get back.” Just as I speak the words, the toilet flushes to life in the bathroom. Troy Turner walks out of the bathroom missing clothes, hands over his groin. My lip is automatically sucked underneath my front teeth as he sheepishly smiles from under messy hair.
“Becca.” He acknowledges me as he stands there with his back against the bathroom door.
“Troy.” I nod, trying to hide the smile across my face. “I don’t care what you have to do, just make sure she makes it to her second class.”
A smile crosses his face at what I can only assume are the possibilities of how to accomplish that task, before I open the door to leave. As I slip out, I steal a glance over my shoulder to see Troy Turner’s nice ass sneaking back into Meggie’s bedroom. Now, I know why he’s the ‘Tight End.’
The mad dash to the Old Building is a cold one, brisk even through my hoodie. My lungs pull the cold air in and I cough with the foreign burst of exercise. At this hour, students are glancing as I pass in my hung-over race to Abnormal Psych class. The only thing pushing me forward is pure adrenaline and the fact that I don’t want to throw up in the bushes in front of everyone. I circle around to the front of the building and swing open the door. There’s no one in the hallway – that’s a bad sign. With a deep sigh, I begin climbing the three flights of stairs to class. My midnight snack almost comes up, twice, before I make it to the top. Inhaling the deepest breaths of my life, I step into class, but they are already seated, taking their tests.
I gasp for breath. “Sorry I’m late.” I attempt to whisper, but it comes out more like a hiss.
The teacher checks her watch before handing me a sheet and waving to a desk. I collapse into a seat in the middle, still trying to control my breathing. Just as I’m about to begin, I notice I forgot to bring a pen. Crap.
My eyes dart around. Everyone is deep into his or her test. Everyone, that is, but the guy beside me. Tom. His eyes are on me through those judgmental black frames of his. Ugh.
“Do you have a pen?” I whisper. A smile crosses his face before he leans over and slips one out of his messenger bag. With a faint return smile, I bend over my test and begin.
The test was easy. It was the pounding headache making mush of my dehydrated brain that made everything that much harder. I step out from the Old Building and head down the path toward the cafeteria.
“Easy test, huh?” Tom catches up to me.
“Yeah, it was okay. Here’s your pen.” I hand it over.
“No, you keep it.”
“Um, okay.” I tuck it into the spiral of my notebook and continue to the building.
“What did you get for that serial-killer gene question?”
“I think I put D – all of the above.”
“No, Becca, that was a trick question because C was false.” He sounds more disappointed than I am.
“Really? Oh, crap. I didn’t get much studying done.”
“I’ve noticed. You’ve been kind of out of it lately.” He pauses before the entrance to the cafeteria almost as if he were expecting an explanation.
“Yeah,” I mutter, opening the door. Lively shouts and conversations greet us like a cadence.
“What’s going on
with you, Becca?”
“Nothing,” and then, I say the sentence that I’ve said a million times over the past few weeks, or maybe even months at this point. “I’m fine.”
“That’s a lie. But, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You are. Your face gives you away.”
“Ugh, I don’t have time for this right now.” I leave him in a huff, probably staring after me with that stupid look of his. I just can’t deal with it. I don’t have the answers, the energy, or the need to.
Later that night, I’m zipping up my boots when I get that anticipatory flutter in my stomach again. There’s nothing like not knowing where the night will take you. I pry my phone off the charger, toss the rest of my vodka-seltzer back, and head out into the kitchen. Ripping a banana off the bundle, I down it before turning toward the door.
“You’re going out again? Shouldn’t you be doing the dishes?” Meggie’s nagging voice greets me once again. Seems like I can’t do anything right anymore. “I mean, they are all yours and they are piling up – kind of like your homework. Tom came by today. He’s worried about you.”
I spin on my heels. “So, you guys were talking about me?”
“We are concerned for you,” she corrects.
“Don’t be.” I straighten my shoulders. “There’s nothing wrong. I’m finally doing what college kids do. I’m having fun enjoying my twenties.”
“Becca.”
“I’m going out. Are you coming?”
She stares at me for a second. With a sigh, she nods. “Fine, hold on.”
Having to drag Meggie to a party is a first. We walk up to the frat house and know a few people at the door, so they let us right in. Meggie follows me this time to the kitchen for a drink.
I prop myself up on the kitchen counter as Meggie sips her drink below me. “Looks like Jessica is having a good time.” She nods over to the corner.
Jessica is having a heavy make-out session in the breakfast nook with some guy I can’t see. We snicker, continuing to glance around the party.
“Beer pong?” Meggie offers.
“Sure. Let’s show these boys how it’s done.”
Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) Page 20