by Karen Cimms
“Katie?” He lifted up onto one elbow and looked down at her.
She tried to look away, feeling stupid and emotional. Of course this would happen. This was still a one-night stand, more or less. She’d be crazy to think—
“Well?”
She’d been so focused on maintaining control of her emotions, she hadn’t heard what he said.
“What?”
“I said come with me.”
Her heart was beating so fast he had to feel it.
“I know it’s crazy, but I don’t want to say good-bye. I’ve never met anyone like you.” His lips grazed her shoulder. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m just not ready for this to end. I think we could have a lot of fun together. I want you to come with me.”
Leave school? Drive around the country in a van—with another guy? She blinked rapidly, convinced she was losing her mind, because she was actually considering it. Had he suggested robbing Franklin National Bank, she might have given that equal consideration as well. There were a couple brain cells still functioning in her drug-addled mind, however.
“I can’t,” she heard herself say. The remaining brain cells and a chorus of her heart and other parts of her anatomy screamed: Don’t listen to her!
“Please, Katie.” He planted tiny kisses around her face, then dragged his nose along hers. God, she loved when he did that. “Come with me.”
“I don’t want this to be over either, but I can’t. What about school? What about Thanksgiving and my parents?”
“You’ll catch up,” he said, trying to convince her. “I’ll buy you a turkey for Thanksgiving. Hell, I’ll buy you a live one if you want.”
She laughed. “Where would I keep a turkey?”
“I’ll build you a pen with wheels so we can take him with us.”
A marijuana-fueled vision of a van pulling a turkey in a cage sent her into a fit of giggles. Billy wasn’t laughing; he just stared down at her, his face nothing but serious. She struggled to compose herself.
“If I leave now, I’m throwing away an entire semester. My parents would kill me.”
“Are you here for your parents or for you? You said you wanna be a writer. So write. I don’t think that’s something anyone can teach you. If you wanna be a teacher, I guess you don’t have a choice, but if your dream is to be a writer, go for it.”
What he said made sense, but she was pretty sure that was only because she wanted to go with him.
“I’m following my dream, Katie. You can come with me and follow yours.” The incongruity of his statement wasn’t lost on her, but she dismissed it and slipped her arms around his neck.
“Is that a yes?”
When she shook her head, he pulled away until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. She scrambled after him. She definitely did not want this, whatever it was, to end.
“How about I meet you in New York? I won’t go home for Thanksgiving. I’ll tell my parents I’m staying here, and I’ll take the train to New York.” She pressed her naked flesh against his back. “Please. That’s the best I can do.”
He pulled her forward until she was kneeling in front of him.
“Please?”
Looking disappointed, he ran his thumb over her mouth, then shrugged. “Guess it’s better than nothing.”
Chapter Seven
Kate spent an anxious few days trying to figure out a suitable lie to convince her parents to let her stay in New Brunswick over Thanksgiving break. Considering that she’d been begging to come home every weekend since they dropped her off, it needed to be a doozy. She had enlisted Toni’s help, but so far they hadn’t come up with anything she thought her parents would believe.
“I’m tapped out,” Toni told her Saturday afternoon as they walked back to campus. “You’ve nixed every one of my ideas.”
Kate transferred the bag of detergent and shampoo from one arm to the other. It banged heavily against her thigh. “I know. I just can’t see them buying any of this. I’m screwed.”
They walked along in silence. About a block up Albany Street, she spied a woman in a dirty, worn-out coat at least two sizes too big sitting on a wall outside the Reformed Church. Her stringy gray hair sprang out from beneath a knit cap that looked as if it would unravel at any moment.
Kate shoved her shopping bag at Toni. “Here, hold this. I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going?”
“Give me a sec.”
She darted into the corner sandwich shop and returned with a Styrofoam cup of soup and some crackers.
“Here you go,” she said, holding the cup out. The woman flinched as if she’d expected Kate to toss the hot liquid at her.
“It’s vegetable beef.” Kate smiled. “It’s my favorite.” She continued to offer the cup until the woman extended her arm. When she’d taken it, Kate held out the crackers. “I don’t like crackers with my soup, but that’s just me.” The woman snatched the sleeve of crackers and slipped them into her pocket.
Kate reached into her own pocket and pulled out two singles and a handful of change. “It’s not much, but if you like the soup, it’s enough to buy more later.”
The woman looked at the money in Kate’s hand, then back at her. The hard lines etched into her face softened. She unfolded her hand, and Kate pressed the bills into them, then the change on top of that. The woman snapped her hand closed and shoved the money into the same pocket that had moments earlier swallowed up the crackers.
Toni handed Kate her bags, then pulled out a five of her own to offer the woman. When she turned back, a wide grin split her face.
“What?” Kate asked as they resumed walking.
“You’re gonna wanna kiss me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I just had a brilliant idea.”
Sunday evening, Kate paced the hall in front of the payphone. When it rang, she about jumped out of her skin.
“Hello, Kate,” her mother said. “How is school?”
Nerves got the better of her, and she began to ramble. “Great. I got a B on my British Lit test, and an A-minus on my research paper. My philosophy class is going well, although sometimes the concept seems so abstract—”
“An A-minus? I would have thought after all that research, you would have aced that paper. I’m really quite surprised.” Kate could see her mother’s frown as clearly as if she were standing in front of her.
“To be honest,” her father chimed in from the extension in his study, “I would’ve expected a much better grade in British Literature. You said you loved British Lit when you registered for that class.”
“Yes, I do, but I meant Jane Austen. I didn’t realize it was a class on the Middle Ages—”
“Like Beowulf?” her mother asked.
“Exactly. Beowulf.”
“It’s a folktale, Kate, filled with interesting characters. I don’t understand your inability to follow such a—”
“You’re right.” She could interrupt, too. “I’ll reread it. Even if it doesn’t help my grade, just so I have a better understanding of a classic work of literature.” She almost gagged.
“I would hope so,” her mother said with a long-suffering sigh.
“Umm, listen. I’m not coming home this week.” Telling them, rather than asking them, wasn’t the smartest approach, but that’s what came out of her mouth.
“What?” they said in perfect unison.
“Umm, Toni—my roommate?—she and I joined this organization, and they need students to help at a shelter for Thanksgiving. I kinda got caught up in the whole idea of helping the less fortunate. Ya know, it’s the Christian thing to do . . .” She was going to hell. “And you’ve always taught me to put others first. I guess I wasn’t thinking. I signed up, and then I thought about you guys. But the organizers were so grateful, because, ya know, they really need the help, because most of the other students are heading home for the holiday. So I was like, yeah sure.” She snatched a quick breath. “Please don’t be mad. I’m
just trying to do the right thing. I thought you’d be proud.”
Billy was right. She didn’t need a diploma to spin a creative tale. This lie was turning into a real masterpiece.
Her mother spoke first. “Please don’t say ‘ya know.’”
Kate chewed on the pad of her thumb to keep from answering.
“What about the rest of the weekend?” her mother asked.
“I’ll be staying with Toni. Her parents live in Somerset. Actually, they’re divorced. We’ll be staying with her dad and stepmom. Having a late dinner Thanksgiving night. Then since we’re already giving up our holiday vacation . . .” She couldn’t stop now. Her ticket to hell was bought and paid for. “We’ll be working at the mission store the rest of the weekend. They sell things that are donated. Like the Salvation Army.”
At the rate she was going, she might not even get to see Billy. The floor might just open up and swallow her—straight to hell.
“It sounds very admirable,” said her father.
“To be honest, the thought of not having to spend all that time in the kitchen—I won’t miss it,” said her mother.
“What do you mean? You’re not gonna make Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Not if you’re not coming home.”
“But what about Daddy?”
“I don’t even like turkey,” he said.
“So you won’t have any holiday dinner?”
“It’s fine with me,” said her mother. “I have several books I’m looking forward to, plus I’ll have papers to grade. A four-day weekend with no cooking sounds like heaven to me.”
At least someone will be enjoying heaven.
“I hope you won’t miss me too much,” Kate said, feeling a little put out, even though she was getting exactly what she wanted.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said her mother. “You have a wonderful time!”
“I’ll be working with the homeless—people who have no place to live? They can’t bathe, so they’ll probably smell pretty bad. You know. Those people. I don’t know how wonderful it’ll be.”
Worried that she’d been a bit too snarky, she dialed up the sweetness. “Do you want me to call you over the weekend?”
“That’s not necessary. Make sure to bring a hostess gift to your friend’s parents. Pick out something suitable. We’ll call you Sunday.”
“Okay, but I’m not sure what time I’ll get back. It’ll depend on when her dad can drive us.”
“We’ll call you Monday evening then,” said her mother.
“Well, happy Thanksgiving,” Kate said sullenly.
“Same to you,” said her mother.
“You too, sweetheart,” added her father.
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone before hanging up.
“Well, okay then.”
Chapter Eight
Because Kate couldn’t bear telling a lie, especially one that traded on the less fortunate, she spent Thanksgiving Day volunteering at a downtown church¸ serving meals to the homeless. For several hours, she lugged heavy trays of mashed potatoes and large canisters of gravy, then ladled it all onto hundreds of plates. Her face hurt from smiling, and her feet ached from standing. She was still excited about seeing Joey, who would be waiting for her at Penn Station since Billy wouldn’t arrive in New York until the next afternoon, but by the time she boarded the train, all she wanted was sleep. Which is exactly what she did. She didn’t open her eyes again until the train lurched to a noisy halt.
Blinking several times, she squinted into the bright light, her eyes scanning the platform. It took a few moments to pick him out from the squirming sea of humanity moving outside the window. But if she hadn’t, the loud squeal that erupted as soon as she stepped off the train would have alerted her as to his whereabouts. He rushed forward and twirled her around while she giggled like a little girl.
“C’mon,” he said, finally letting go and grabbing her suitcase. “Let’s get out of here before we get mugged.”
“Oh, stop.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that bad.”
“No?” He eyed her, straight-faced. “You’re lucky someone isn’t already wearing your underwear.”
Shaking her head, she followed at a quick pace as Joey led her out onto Forty-Second Street. When they reached the subway, he searched until he found the car with the most passengers and the ones he said least looked like murderers.
“How long?” she asked as they settled into a seat, hoping he’d say “Five minutes and the train stops next to the bed.”
“About forty minutes.”
She squeezed his hand. “That’ll give us time to catch up.”
“Then we have to walk about eight blocks.” She squeezed harder. “Ouch!” He pulled his hand away. “I can’t help it if I’m poor!”
“It’s fine,” she said as the train inched forward. “After all this sitting, a walk will do me good.”
“Well, in my neighborhood it might be more of a brisk jog, but we’ll see how it goes.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and yawned, tracing a finger over the crease he’d ironed into his jeans.
“So tell me about the rock star.”
“He’s not a rock star. Not yet, but he will be.”
“I see we’re a smitten kitten,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder. “What’s he look like?”
“He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—other than you, of course.” Joey’s hair had grown out into a halo of dark, unruly curls, although she knew there was nothing haphazard about them. She studied him intently. “On second thought, he’s even more beautiful than you.”
“I’m crushed.”
“You’ll get over it. He has dark, maybe medium blond hair, but it’s streaked, like he spent a lot of time in the sun.”
“Highlights.” He nodded.
“No, it’s natural.”
“Bullshit. No one in the northeast has natural highlights in November. Trust me. We have plenty of men who come into school for highlights—plenty of straight men. Of course, if he’s this handsome, could there be the slightest chance, that maybe—”
“No way.” She shook her head.
Gasping dramatically, he clutched his chest. “Katy-did?”
Slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, she leaned in. “Katy-most-certainly-did.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Katy-did until she almost couldn’t walk.”
“You didn’t!”
She grinned and nodded.
“How was it?”
If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel Billy’s arms around her. “More than I dreamed it could be. But it scares me, too. It was wonderful—everything you see in the movies, you know? Bells, whistles, and you think ‘Yep, that’s exactly how I wanted it to be.’ I’m afraid no one else will ever live up to this? He’s set the bar pretty high. I mean, my experience is pretty limited. Other than the prom.”
“Ugh, Digger.” He groaned. “I told you I’d have taken you.”
“I know, but I knew how hard it would be for you to come back. I didn’t want to put you through that.”
“So you went with that Neanderthal.” Disgust lined his face. “I still can’t get over that.”
“Well, he liked me, that’s for sure.”
She remembered prom night too well. As soon as they’d left the dance and gotten into his father’s Buick, Digger was all over her. She practically had to knee him in the groin. They were supposed to go to Seaside Heights the next day, but she feigned a headache and spent the day reading while her friends went to the shore. Having to fight Digger off all day wasn’t worth it.
He’d called several times over the summer and even stopped by the house, but she refused to speak to him. After a while, he got the hint.
“Go on,” Joey prodded. “He’s blond, and angels come at night and paint highlights in his hair. What else?”
“He has blue eyes.”
“Of course he does. What hunk doesn’t?”
; “You want me to tell you or not?”
“Sorry.” He waved her on. “Continue.”
“He has blue-gray eyes with little flecks of gold. He’s growing a goatee. And he’s really tall, like six four or something, and slim but not skinny. He looks like a Greek statute, you know.” She lowered her voice. “Naked.”
“I’m shocked! Three months at college doing nothing but studying, and the first time you venture out, you meet and fall in love with Adonis.”
“Pretty much.”
He laughed, but she was serious. That was exactly what had happened.
The streets of the city were teeming with Black Friday shoppers and crowds trying to catch a glimpse of the decorations at the major department stores. Normally, Kate would have loved ogling the windows at the stores along Fifth Avenue, but all she wanted this time was to see Billy. He’d told her he would be at the club by five thirty, six at the latest, but it had taken her so long to get ready, it was well after six.
She had packed a couple different outfits, not really sure what one wears to a New York club. Joey had nixed both her ideas. Instead, he pulled different pieces from her suitcase until he came up with something he considered almost suitable. After some heated debate, they agreed on a rose-printed black velvet dress with a V-neck, black tights, her leather jacket, and high-heeled boots.
When it was time to finish her look, she’d dug in her heels.
“I don’t want big hair or heavy makeup, and I don’t wanna look like Madonna,” she’d insisted as she sat on a stool in his tiny living room.
“If you don’t suck the life out of a party, I don’t know what,” he responded tersely, eyeing her up as if he knew he had his work cut out for him. “Okay,” he said resolutely. “We’ll just have to give him Kate with a little—pizzazz!”
“Put the jazz hands away. Just give him Kate, with a little—I don’t know . . .”
“Pizzazz?” he asked dryly.
“Whatever.”
Although she had fought against him doing anything to her hair—he wanted to cut it, while she liked it long, straight, and parted down the middle—she allowed him to give her some deep bangs. Then he played up the green in her eyes and gave her a dramatic cat-eye sweep of black eyeliner. When he was done, he tied a thin black ribbon around her neck.