Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2

by Rebecca Donovan

Brendan raises an eyebrow, taunting me.

  “I won’t betray anyone.”

  The corner of his mouth quirks. “You continue to surprise me.”

  “Why?”

  “At first I thought it was defiance that kept you from cooperating. Self-preservation. But then you say it was to protect your friends. And I didn’t expect that. But I get it. Now, you’d rather be convicted of another crime you didn’t commit, for what? Because you don’t want to betray someone you hardly know?”

  How can he possibly know that what happened to Allie could affect Parker? I want to ask, but he may mean something else entirely. He has a tendency to speak in riddles, a trait he shares with Ashton. No wonder they’re friends.

  “How can I possibly have information you want?”

  “What I’m really asking for, Lana, is for you to answer the questions I ask, without avoiding them. There’s something I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time, and now that I know more about you, I have a feeling you may have some of the answers I need.”

  “You’re so confusing!” I exclaim in frustration. “You want straight answers out of me, but nothing you say makes any sense! At least with Ashton, I can blame the drugs, but with you … what are you talking about?”

  Brendan shakes his head as if in warning, holding his school phone in his hand. I shoot him a questioning look.

  A knock on the door turns our heads. The older woman from my phone pushes the door open without waiting for a response. She’s taller than I expected. I thought she’d be a petite, frail woman, but she’s tall and intimidating in her simple gray dress and severe bun. Not someone I’d be dumb enough to accept apples from, that’s for sure.

  “The shuttle is here to take you to work,” she announces. I check my phone, surprised by the time. Luckily I don’t need to get anything from my dorm room. I pick up the bag Niall left on the coffee table, and slide the gift inside.

  “Thanks,” I say to her, but she’s already gone. Brendan stands and we walk out of the room together. But then he continues across the foyer alongside me. “Where are you going?”

  “To work,” he tells me like I should know this.

  The thought of Brendan working is confounding. He’s too pristine and manicured—I doubt he’s performed a day of physical labor in his life.

  I’m surprised to see people waiting in the administration office when we pass it. Then I remember the rest of the summer students arrive today.

  The driveway is busy with moving vans and dark sedans slowly driving along the gravel drive that encircles the campus toward the dorms. The shuttle idles in front of the main entrance, waiting for us. Brendan and I are the only ones on it.

  “What did you want to tell me?” I ask him as soon as we drive past the gates. Brendan holds up his finger, taking his phone out of his pocket. He gestures for me to hand mine to him as well. I surrender it, baffled by his paranoia. He sets them on the front seat of the shuttle and then walks to the back to sit in the last row. I follow.

  “Explain,” I demand.

  In a hushed tone, Brendan says, “It’s their phone. Their service. With their tracking device. You don’t think they can turn on the microphone or camera whenever they want?”

  “They can do that?” I ask in shock.

  “I have.”

  I gawk at him.

  “Have you learned nothing in the two days you’ve known me?”

  I close my eyes and shake my head, disturbed by every new thing Brendan reveals. But what’s even more messed up is how open he is about it. And, as he said, it’s only been two days! Maybe he’s not afraid how much I know because I won’t say anything. Bastard.

  “Explain how Niall’s your lawyer,” Brendan asks.

  “I know his sons.” I reluctantly concede to the questioning, but only until he asks too much.

  “How?”

  “We see Parker out at some of the same places we do back home. And I just met Joey … that night. Why am I telling you this?”

  “Did you ask who’s paying for you to go to Blackwood?”

  “No. It didn’t come up.” Honestly, it wasn’t a priority when I spoke with Niall. I was more concerned about why I was sent here at all.

  “You need to ask him,” he insists, obviously frustrated by my lack of knowledge or concern. But he’s not exactly helping clarify why I should care either. “How else do you know Niall?”

  “What are you talking about? I don’t …” But then I realize my mother knew him before I did.

  “Tell me.”

  “No. Not until you explain why you’re asking so many questions. What do you think I can help you figure out?”

  “Who killed my mother.”

  I stare at him. His dark eyes don’t waiver. His lips don’t quirk. There’s a gravity to his tone. He’s serious.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You think Niall had something to do with her death?”

  “He knows who did.”

  Thaylina saw the man in the dark green cloak peering up at her from the bottom of the tower, and her heart leapt at the sight of him.

  “Are you going to let me up?” he called to her.

  The girl raced down the steps to unlock the door, disregarding the sorceress’s instruction to not let anyone in.

  “I knew you would,” the man said, following her to the top of the tower.

  The shuttle comes to a stop. I tear my eyes away from Brendan’s and look out the window. We’re already here. The ride was way too short today.

  “We’ll talk later.” Brendan stands and moves swiftly down the aisle, picking up his phone before exiting the shuttle.

  It takes me a minute to force my legs under me. I practically fall as I stumble down the steps. I’m being suffocated by secrets. And most aren’t even mine.

  “Lana, you’ll be training with Kaely today at The Grille,” Cary tells me when I clock in at the computer. “You know the correct uniform for The Grille, right?”

  “Yes,” I reply absently, walking in a daze to the locker room. I am so lost in the haze of half-truths, I don’t register there’s a body standing in front of me until I bump right into it. “Sorry.”

  My eyes connect with Grant’s sky blue ones. He’s holding my elbow to balance me, a look of concern on his face. “Lana? You alright?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just … thinking.”

  “And that makes walking difficult?” he teases.

  I shake out of my daze and offer a weak smile. “Evidently.”

  “Where are you working today?”

  “The Grille.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m at the Ninth Bar with Stefan. Save me a seat at staff meal?”

  “Uh, sure,” I reply, my brain slowly deciphering what he said.

  Grant continues past me, glancing back once as I stand like an idiot, staring after him. My brain seriously can’t handle any of this today.

  I need a minute to process everything. Everything other than Grant. I can’t seem to function around him at all, so I’m not going to waste my thoughts on what the hell that all meant. I need to figure out why Niall’s so evasive about how he knows my mother. Why he’s been representing me for years for free without me realizing it. And who’s paying for my tuition to Blackwood, since Brendan is obviously hung up on that one.

  Which brings me to Brendan, who is also represented by Niall. And he’s fixated on these details more than I am. Why does he care so much? And truthfully, why should I? The answers to these questions won’t clear my name and make sure Vic gets what’s coming to him—without involving my friends. That should be my priority. The rest of this is just an unnecessary distraction.

  Except … I can’t stop thinking about the bomb Brendan dropped on me on the shuttle, that someone killed his mother. And Niall may know who.

  Maybe I should talk to him, just once.

  “Did you forget your combination?”

  I startle.

  “Oh no. I’m just out of it this morning.” I realize I’v
e been standing in front of my locker, staring, when Kaely walks up beside me.

  “Ashton?” she asks, as if that’s the only explanation needed. Guess everyone knows about her recreational habits.

  “Actually, no.” I realize she’s already dressed in her uniform. “Sorry, I’ll be fast. Meet you down there?”

  “Sure.” She smiles and walks out of the locker room, her thick, wavy auburn ponytail swaying behind her.

  When I grab my Grille uniform out of the locker, a piece of paper flutters to the floor. The side that lands up is blank. I bend to pick it up and find written in red capital letters:

  The lines are neat and precise as if they were drawn with a ruler. I don’t know why my first instinct is to look around the locker room, but I do. Like the person who wrote it might be lurking in some corner, watching. But it’s empty, until three girls enter, laughing and chatting. They separate to go to their lockers to change for this shift.

  “You okay?” one asks from the locker a few down from mine.

  “Yeah,” I reply, shutting my locker. Before she can say anything else, I take my uniform into the dressing area to change.

  First the message on the wall, now this. It has to be the same person. Someone who knows what happened? That’s the only thing that makes sense. But then, who’s him? I groan in frustration. Whoever’s fucking with me is doing a shitty job with their threats because I don’t know what the hell they mean! Be specific, Crazy!

  I see Brendan walking toward the golf carts ahead of me and jog to catch up.

  “Are you doing this?” I shove the note at him.

  He takes it from me and reads it. “My, you move fast, don’t you, Lana.”

  “What?”

  “Looks like a jealous girl warning you off of her man.”

  “That’s stupid. I just got here and have barely spoken with anyone besides you. Do you have any psycho exes I should know about?”

  Brendan scoffs. “I don’t do girlfriends, exactly for this reason.” He hands back the note. “Watch yourself. Whoever she is, she doesn’t like you.”

  “She? You’re the only one who knows anything about me—illegally, but still.”

  “I don’t play mind games.”

  “Liar.” He’s a master at mind games; that was obvious on day one.

  “Not like this.” He nods toward the note in my hand. “I’m open to sharing what I know, when you agree to do the same. Ambiguous threats aren’t my style.”

  He walks away, approaching a man with a hideous checkered hat and a bulging stomach. They shake hands and Brendan gets in the driver’s seat of the golf cart. I now notice he’s dressed in pressed khakis and a navy polo shirt with KCC embroidered on the chest. He pulls on a white baseball hat before pulling away.

  He’s a caddie. His job is to help members play golf. Bullshitting all day. How appropriate.

  I don’t know which door is the service entrance to get into The Grille, so I approach the counter where Kaely is handing an ice cream to a dripping wet boy in a bathing suit.

  “Hi!” she greets me cheerily. “The staff entrance is on the right side under the stairs.” She gestures to the side of the building.

  I find the door where she indicated it would be and enter a storage room. Wire shelves are stocked with non-perishable food and drinks. I hear voices coming from the front and follow them. There’s a small kitchen and service area where a tall, lanky guy stands at a grill, flipping burgers.

  He notices me and gives me a goofy grin. “Hey!” His reddish-brown hair hangs in his eyes under his backward Kingston Country Club baseball hat, and the scruff on his chin looks like the only hair that’ll grow on his body.

  “Hi,” I say, continuing to the service counter where Kaely and another girl are taking orders from more kids in bathing suits.

  “Order’s up,” he calls from the back, tapping a bell.

  When Kaely turns around to pick it up, she smiles at me. “Hi! Help me with the order?”

  I follow her back to the service counter where she introduces us. “Lana, this is Squirrel. Squirrel, this is Lana.”

  I’ve heard a lot of nicknames, but never this one. And I can’t even begin to understand how someone can earn the name. He doesn’t look like a squirrel. I feel my eyes squinting as I stare at him, trying to figure it out.

  “Welcome to KCC, not to be confused with KFC.” He tosses a burger into the air so it flips a couple times before landing with a sizzle back on the grill.

  Kaely laughs. “Can you grab the hot dog and fries?” She holds out a tray with two burgers wrapped in foil.

  We spend the afternoon serving hot dogs, burgers, fries, ice cream and a million other concession stand items to kids and parents who came to spend the day at the pool. I’m told that upstairs is a seated restaurant called The Deck, with a more extensive casual menu and a deck that looks out onto the course. Everyone has to start at The Grille first. Squirrel calls it the right of passage, like we’re in some tribe together.

  I don’t earn any tips working The Grille, which sucks. But it’s easy. Except for the screaming toddlers who drop their ice cream on the pavement and the kids who squirt ketchup all over the counter instead of their fries. It still doesn’t compare to the drunken customers at Stella’s who spill more than they consume, try to grab my ass, and end up in fights.

  Kaely is patient, a necessity when dealing with the chaos of orders that come at us all afternoon. I don’t talk to the other girl too much—of course, I can’t remember her name. And Squirrel is … entertaining. I’m pretty sure the guy was born high. So his high functioning ability to keep up with orders while singing to whatever song is playing and offering unsolicited philosophical insight is impressive.

  “It was cool to meet you. You have a totally stellar aura,” Squirrel says to me at the end of my shift as he scrapes off the grill. “See you tomorrow at Stefan’s?”

  “Uh, maybe,” I say, not sure what he means—about my aura or meeting up at Stefan’s.

  “Oh, you have to come!” Kaely exclaims, carrying her cash drawer with her as the new girl takes over her position at the register.

  I think about the stipulations Niall put into place, that I’ll have to go with one of his sons—meaning Lance, since Parker is leaving today and I’m not ready to see Joey, even if he was here.

  “If I can,” I tell her.

  We walk to the fenced-in area behind The Grille. “I have to bring my drawer up to Cary. I’ll meet you back here after.”

  Ashton didn’t bring me to the staff meal yesterday, wanting to return to Blackwood to get ready for Lily’s party as soon as our shift was over. She also said the food was way better there and she almost never eats at the club. But, Grant is waiting for me—I hope. And the shuttle won’t be here for another twenty minutes, so I might as well check it out.

  Four picnic tables with umbrellas stuck in their centers are concealed within the fenced-in space. Chafing dishes are laid out on a banquet table in the corner. I explore the options and find chicken fingers, fries, pasta and a garden salad. Now I understand why Ashton doesn’t eat here. But I’m not picky, so I scoop some chicken fingers and fries onto my plate, pour a glass of water from the big orange thermos at the end of the table, and search for a seat. Two of the tables are filled with adult and college-age employees. I opt to sit at an empty table in the corner.

  Grant slips through the opening behind me and sits to my right.

  “Saved a whole table,” he notes. “Nice.”

  I bite my lip, to keep the smile from blossoming. “I’m not great with small talk. And I’ve already forgotten everyone’s names. Sitting alone was safer.”

  “Do you remember mine?” he teases.

  “I do.”

  He waits for me to say it.

  “Grant,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Are you eating?”

  “No. I just wanted to see you before you left.”

  “Why?” My pulse is racing, making my hands sweat.

 
“To invite you to Stefan’s tomorrow. I’m staying with him for the summer. And every Monday, when the club is closed, he invites people over. I wanted to make sure you knew about it.”

  “What time?”

  “People come and go throughout the day and night, so whenever. Bring a suit. Or sleeping bag. Whatever. It’s pretty laid back.”

  “Umm, I’ll try.”

  “Not sure I like that answer, but it’s better than no.”

  The smile has yet to leave my face. My cheeks are going to start aching soon if I don’t calm down. “If it were up to me, I’d definitely be there. But … it’s not.”

  “Oh.” He looks confused. “Are you … seeing someone? Parker?”

  “No!” It comes out so loud a few heads turn at the table next to us. I cringe. Grant laughs.

  “I guess you don’t like him much.”

  “It’s not that, it’s just … no. I’m not seeing anyone. That’s not the reason. I’m new at Blackwood, so there are rules about leaving campus. Basically, I need a chaperone.”

  “That could make dating difficult.”

  “I don’t date.” The honesty spills from my mouth whenever he’s around. And the most horrifying things spew out. It’s like he amplifies my curse.

  He hesitates. “You don’t date. You’re afraid to fall in love. You’re killing me.” He grins this beautiful, heart-stopping grin. “Are you opposed to guys as friends?”

  “Yes,” I say, wanting to smash my head on the table. I just friend-zoned myself because of my rapid-fire honesty. Oh, shit. I suddenly realize what I actually said and want to smash my head even harder. “I mean, I’m not opposed to being friends with guys.”

  “Have you ever?”

  “No. But I don’t like many people, so it doesn’t mean anything. I only have a couple friends back home.”

  Grant continues to laugh at the unabated honesty, like it’s adorable and not projectile humiliation. Meanwhile, I want to crawl under a rock. “Maybe I can be the first,” Grant says, pushing off the table to stand. “Hopefully, I’ll see you tomorrow.”