Sister Spy

by Laura Peyton Roberts

  Sydney shrugged. “He's not exactly subtle. Anyway, I wanted to thank you again. For everything. You know.”

  She was afraid to mention Francie's name in case anyone overheard.

  “Not a problem! I could tell right away you were someone we needed, and it turns out that other girl had a conflict with the Aloha anyway.” Roxy rubbed the fingers of her right hand against her thumb, suggesting a money shortage. “Everything worked out fine.”

  “Still. I owe you.”

  Roxy grinned happily. “What are sisters for? Besides, it's fun to have some new people around.” Her smile turned suddenly wistful. “Things have been a little sad lately. . . .”

  Sydney made herself count to three before she pounced on the opening. “I heard about the girl who died.”

  Roxy gave her a startled look. “Heard? Ashley said you knew Jen.”

  “That's right. I did.” Her heart raced as she realized her mistake: Of course these girls told each other everything. Maybe she shouldn't have claimed to know Jen after all. “We weren't close, but it was still a shock. And you . . . were you close?”

  Roxy nodded. Tears welled into her eyes, reflecting tiki torches. “The closest. Jen was an angel. I just . . . It's hard now, you know? Being in the sorority without her. Pretending to still care . . .”

  Roxy wiped her wet eyes with her fingers, spreading streaks of mascara out toward her temples. “I shouldn't be telling you this,” she said, sniffing back more tears. “You're new, and all gung-ho. And it really is a great group of girls. . . .”

  “No, I understand,” Sydney assured her, moved by the obvious depth of Roxy's feelings. Somehow it made her feel better, knowing that Jen had had true friends inside the sorority.

  “But now I feel stupid.” Roxy wiped at her makeup again. “Not to mention scary-looking.”

  Sydney smiled sympathetically, unable to deny it. “Well . . . it wouldn't hurt if one of us had a tissue.”

  Roxy nodded toward the fraternity house. “I doubt they have anything as refined as Kleenex in there, but maybe I'll go dunk my face in a sink.”

  “I'll come with you,” Sydney offered.

  “No, do me a favor and find Michelle. Did you meet Michelle? Curly brown hair? I think she's wearing yellow tonight. Tell her I said to keep an eye on Katie while I'm gone. She'll know what I mean.”

  “Okay.”

  If someone named Katie needed watching, Sydney definitely wanted to find out why.

  The music started before she'd taken more than a few steps, the speakers cranked so loud that no one could talk without shouting over the CD. Sydney wove through the crush of people, smiling at the girls she recognized. At last she located Michelle, a slightly sour-looking brunette stationed near the keg.

  “Michelle? Hi!” Sydney shouted.

  Michelle nodded without smiling. Sydney pointed to the lettering on her pink shirt.

  “I'm Sydney Bristow. I don't think we had a chance to talk the other night.”

  Michelle shrugged.

  This is going well, Sydney thought. Just then the song came to an end.

  “Roxy sent me to find you,” she blurted out in the break. “She had to go inside, and she wants you to keep an eye on Katie. She said you'd know what that means.”

  A slight smile straightened the girl's pursed lips. “What's Roxy doing?”

  “Just . . . well . . . we were talking about Jen, and it made her kind of sad. She'll be back out pretty soon.”

  “Oh.” Michelle gave Sydney a probing look. “Is she okay?”

  “She will be. She just needs a few minutes.”

  Michelle sighed, her gaze shifting off into the distance. “Nothing's been the same since Jen died. We all just loved her so much. It's . . . not real. We can't believe what happened.”

  Sydney shifted her weight a few times, wondering how best to exploit this opportunity.

  “You don't think . . . Katie?” she offered tentatively.

  “She's drunk, but she's not that drunk! I'll cut her off if I have to.” Michelle shook her head fiercely. “And if Doug comes anywhere near her . . .”

  “Oh.” Suddenly Katie's need for being watched seemed a lot less sinister. “Bad relationship?”

  “Don't get me started.”

  The music blared again, to cheers from the growing crowd. Sydney wandered away from Michelle in search of other leads.

  In a flat corner of the yard, a group of people had begun dancing on the grass. Sydney quickly spotted Francie tearing up the makeshift dance floor. She stood and watched for a few seconds before noticing Ashley just feet away, her eyes on the dancers as well.

  “Hey, Ashley! How's it going?” Sydney asked, walking to the girl's side.

  Ashley gave her a cool sideways glance. “Hello.”

  “Great party.”

  “If you like this sort of thing.” Ashley shook her head, her salon-perfect hair brushing tanning-bed shoulders. “I don't know why, just once, these guys couldn't get a real band. And something to drink besides beer. Not to mention those tacky lights! You can practically smell the trailer park in here.”

  Sydney laughed. Ashley hadn't changed her haughty attitude—but this time she had a point.

  “That loser Maxwell hit on me earlier,” Sydney said confidingly. “What a slime!”

  Ashley whipped her head around. “Well, it's not as if I like him,” she said, fixing Sydney with a piercing look. “Who said I did?”

  “Nobody!”

  For the second time that night, Sydney realized that all these new people around her weren't new to each other. They had existing, intertwined relationships—ones she didn't understand. She'd have to be more careful of what she said.

  “They'd better not.” Ashley tossed her blond hair and tilted her chin away, still miffed.

  “No one said anything like that. Mostly they've just been saying how much they miss Jen.”

  “Oh.” Not a trace of emotion crossed Ashley's face. She kept her gaze on the dancers.

  “I mean, because she was really nice.”

  “To some people.”

  Sydney digested that comment, wondering what to make of it. “I guess she could be a little snobby sometimes,” she ventured.

  “Snobby? No, she—” Ashley cut herself off abruptly. “Jen was fine. I have to go talk to someone.”

  She stalked off without another word, her back as stiff as her voice had been. Sydney watched her accost a reeling, pixie-haired girl and force her into a conversation.

  Could that be Katie? Sydney wondered.

  But the possibility didn't seem worth following up on just then. Her head was spinning, from the questions, the crowd, the music, the smoke. . . .

  And then there was Maxwell.

  “Hey, babe,” he said, sidling up to her again. He seemed to have greased his chest since the last time she'd seen him; it was now as oily as his manner. “Bang-Bang Maxwell's here. Tell Daddy what you want.”

  I want to be sick, Sydney thought. I want to puke into a plastic bag and break it over your head.

  “You know what I want?” she cooed instead, unable to resist the double payback. “I want you to go be nice to Ashley.”

  “Ashley!” Maxwell snorted. “Been there, done that. If you catch my meaning.” He high-fived himself like a total fool. “But you . . . you intrigue me.”

  That's because I could kill you fifteen different ways, she thought, backing away.

  “And I like your shirt,” he added, reaching to touch a rhinestone in a spot where his finger had no business being.

  Sydney grabbed his groping hand, stopping it an inch from her body.

  “Whoa, you're strong!” he said. She could tell by the way he was squinting that her grip was hurting his fingers.

  “Try to remember that next time,” she said, squeezing harder. “If I want you to touch me, I'll let you know.”

  “Do that,” he said huskily, turning her threat into an invitation. “Anytime.”

  She tossed hi
s hand away, disgusted.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked. “I could come by later.”

  “Or not. Listen, I have to go talk to someone.” She bailed before he could catch his breath, pulling off an Ashley-like exit.

  I may be sorority material after all, she thought, glancing back to make sure she had lost him.

  The gate to the yard stood open a short distance away. Sydney slipped through it into the darker night outside, wanting a quiet moment alone. She had made progress that evening, getting to know more people and how each one felt about Jen. Now she needed to plan her next step.

  Everyone liked Jen except Ashley, she remembered, walking the outside perimeter of the fence. Overgrown pine trees bordered her path, turning it into a dark, secluded alley. Still, that doesn't make Ashley a killer. From what I've seen of her so far, it's entirely possible she's just a—

  A slight noise behind her made Sydney freeze. A hand slapped her posterior, sending her into overdrive.

  “That's it!” she snapped, wheeling around. A punch flew out from her shoulder before she saw where her fist was going. The only things she knew for sure just then were that she could level a frat boy—and that this one richly deserved it.

  But a strong forearm slammed into hers, deflecting her punch. Her hand continued through the air with so much force behind it that she lost her balance and staggered into her opponent.

  “Ooh!” said Noah Hicks, chuckling as he steadied her back to her feet. “Lousy stance. I could have had you right there.”

  “You think you could have,” she retorted, annoyed.

  “Please. I know I could have.”

  There was no question he was right. That knowledge, combined with his smug expression, only angered her more.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Spying on me now?”

  “Well, you know. Got to keep in practice.”

  He tried one of his charming smiles, the kind that made him look more boy-next-door than SD-6 superagent, but Sydney wasn't buying. The fact that she'd spent whole days just aching to be alone with him was completely forgotten.

  Ever since Paris he's been treating me like I have the plague. And now he sneaks up behind me and smacks my butt? I don't think so.

  Noah seemed to read her mind. The smile died suddenly on his lips. He pushed a nervous hand back through his short brown hair.

  “You're not happy to see me?” he asked.

  “Would that shatter your ego? Did you think I'd trail you around forever, just waiting for you to notice?”

  His expression hardened. “Is that what you've been doing?”

  “You wish!”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she was seeing someone else now, that Paris had been a fluke. But Paris hadn't been a fluke, and standing beside him in darkness again, she was barely two seconds away from throwing herself into his arms.

  Something told her he wouldn't fight it. Something told her it was why he had come.

  He pointed to her shirt. “You're pledging a sorority now?”

  “Wilson didn't tell you?”

  “He knows? I'm amazed he'd allow such a waste of time.”

  Sydney's brows rose. Noah seemed completely unaware of her new mission.

  “Besides, you don't seem the type,” he added before she could fill him in. “All girly and giggly and stuff.”

  She might have agreed with him overall, but his choice of words incensed her.

  “I'm not girly. Good to know.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said, pained.

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  She turned and headed back the way she had come, Noah right behind her.

  “Don't tell me you're mad about that!” he said, close on her heels. “That would be very stupid.”

  “You're right. This whole thing between us is stupid.”

  “I just wanted to see you. That's all.”

  “And now you have.”

  The open gate came into view. Sydney headed straight for it, not slackening her pace a bit. There was no way Noah would follow her into the Triple Chi yard, not with so many people around.

  “Sydney!” he called behind her.

  She stepped through the gate, back into the party. Back into the noise and music and smoke . . . Back into the normal world, where guys like Noah didn't exist.

  Roxy was waiting just inside, her makeup fixed and her features sharp with interest.

  “Boyfriend?” she asked, nodding in Noah's direction.

  Sydney looked just in time to see him slink into the night. “Hardly,” she said, disgusted.

  Roxy laughed. “I know what you need.”

  Tossing an arm across Sydney's shoulders, she led her to the keg.

  Sydney reentered her room from the bathroom to find the lights still blazing and Francie sitting up in bed, a calculator in her hands.

  “This is never going to work,” she said, frantically punching buttons. “Kira needs the Aloha money tomorrow.” She glanced at her alarm clock. “Today,” she corrected herself with a moan.

  “I thought you were going to put the last few hundred on your credit card.” Unwrapping the wet towel from around her head, Sydney looked for a brush.

  Francie held up her calculator, pointing to its minuscule screen. “Do you know what that interest comes out to? It'll be all I can do to keep up with the minimum! I'll never be able to pay off the whole amount.”

  “I told you I'd lend you some money.” Settling for a comb, she began forcing it through her wet tangles.

  “You can't afford to lend me that kind of money.” Francie tossed the calculator onto the floor, a muscle working along her jaw. “I'll have to drop my pledge.”

  “But you had a great time tonight!”

  The first tear made its break, tracing the side of Francie's nose. “I'm just being practical.”

  “You don't have to be.”

  Impulsively, Sydney opened her bottom desk drawer, removing a small box way at the back—her emergency fund from Wilson.

  “Use it as you see fit, for anything related to your safety, your cover, or your missions,” he'd said, giving her the stack of hundreds. “Spies don't always have time for the ATM.”

  Now Sydney peeled off eight bills and handed them to Francie. “Is this enough?”

  Francie blinked a couple of times, then abruptly remembered to breathe, a long, hissing inhalation. “What are you doing keeping that kind of cash in a drawer?”

  “I just got it out, in case we needed it for the trip,” Sydney lied, closing the box before Francie could see how much money was left. “Just take it and stop worrying. You can pay me back later.”

  She had expected to make Francie's night, but her friend's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This is all from your job at the bank?”

  “And some birthday money.”

  “You were broke at the beginning of the year. Flat broke,” Francie reminded her.

  “Yeah, well . . . things change, Francie. I thought you'd be happy, but if you don't want it . . .”

  Sydney reached for the money, but Francie snatched it away, her fingers crumpling the crisp bills.

  “No, I do. It's just . . . Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “I'll find a way to pay you back.”

  “I know,” Sydney said, sighing as she turned off the light.

  Wilson would give her a load more cash for Oahu.

  And Francie was going to keep track of every penny she spent.

  4

  “This place is amazing!” Francie exclaimed, gazing around the luxurious, open-air lobby of the Waikiki Princess hotel.

  Sydney nodded, overwhelmed. Forty-five sorority girls in matching pink Alpha AlohaT-shirts barely filled one corner of the huge space, and Sydney didn't know whether to focus on the clear turquoise ocean a hundred yards out, the lavishly landscaped swimming pool closer in, or the enormous tropical flower arrangements crowning marble pedestals around the lobby. All the girls were excited, chattering in loud voices
, and even with a handful of room keys to give out, Roxy was having a hard time getting her sisters' attention.

  “All right, all right,” she said again, waving one hand over her head. “I know I can't compete with those guys Kira had meet us at the plane. . . .”

  Her comment was greeted by cheers as the girls registered their approval of the six bare-chested hunks who had enriched their airport experience with orchid leis and cheek kisses. Kira blushed at the approbation, while Keisha simply smiled, perhaps reliving slipping that twenty into a tapa loincloth.

  Ever since their plane had left L.A., some spell had come over the girls. For the first half of the flight they had been pretty quiet—then the energy had started to build. Rubber-band fights had broken out, despite the flight attendants' repeated warnings. Amanda had locked herself into the bathroom to spray pink streaks in her hair, and soon everyone was doing it. And anyone who was twenty-one had her finger on the call button, ordering drink after drink. Since claiming their luggage and sitting through the shuttle ride to the hotel, people had sobered up, but girls still leaned unsteadily into each other, arms thrown fondly around shoulders, waists, and anything else that didn't move out of the way.

  “All right!” Roxy broke in determinedly. “The sooner I get these keys passed out, the sooner we can hit the beach!”

  More cheering greeted this announcement, stalling her again. When at last the girls settled down, Roxy handed out keys, assigning two girls to each room. She teamed Sydney with Francie, keeping the leftover single for herself.

  “I thought we pledges might room with sisters,” Sydney objected softly as she took her key. “You know, people who can tell us more about the sorority.”

  And Jen's death, she added to herself.

  But Roxy made a face. “There's plenty of time for all that. Besides, I know you and Francie get along.”

  Sydney accepted the key without further comment, but when she turned around, the look Francie gave her made her squirm.

  “You don't want to room with me?” Francie asked, hurt.

  “It's not that,” Sydney assured her. “It's just that we already know each other and . . . I thought it would be nice to meet other people.”