by Bella Abbott
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
“Another present,” Serena said.
“Really?” Sarah gushed. “Score!”
“We don’t know that,” I countered, continuing to unwrap the box.
“How freaky would that be if it was somebody’s head?” Kate asked, earning a dirty look from all of us. She held up her hands. “Sorry. I mean, it’s too small, but wouldn’t that be weird?”
I got the paper off and set it to the side. The box was made of metallic silver foil with a silver bow embossed in the top.
“Well, open it,” Serena urged.
I lifted the lid and peeked beneath it and then set it back into place. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“What?” Sarah demanded.
I flipped the lid open, revealing row after row of chocolate truffles. The interior of the lid was etched with the name and logo of a Belgian chocolatier with stores in NY, London, Beverly Hills, and Paris.
“Is that a card?” Kate asked.
The corner of a linen rectangle just showed from beneath the top row of chocolates. I pulled it free and stared at it like it was a scorpion.
My name was written on the top fold in elegant cursive script. I opened it and read, slowly and unbelievingly, and then set the card on top of the chocolates with a stunned expression.
“What does it say?” Kate asked.
I rose and walked to the bathroom. Serena reached for the card and opened it. She read it silently and then aloud.
“Please do me the honor of coming to the Old Glory clearing at eight o’clock this evening. I hope you like chocolates. These are delicious. Yours…” She turned it over. “But it’s not signed!”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. “No way.” She looked at me standing in the bathroom doorway, holding the jamb for support. “I knew it was a secret admirer. I was so totally right!”
“What should I do?” I asked, my voice as wobbly as my legs.
“You go meet your admirer, of course!” Sarah said.
“And wind up at the bottom of a lake somewhere,” Kate scoffed. “Or in a cage in some dude’s basement.”
Serena looked worried. “This could be something sketchy. Kate’s right. Like maybe Luke wants to make sure you never press charges.”
“Devious,” Kate said. “But I agree.”
“So I shouldn’t go,” I said.
“I didn’t say that,” Kate clarified. “We’ll go with you. To make sure you don’t get jumped by some pervert.”
“I know kung fu,” Sarah said solemnly. “I used to watch it on late night TV. My hands are weapons.”
“Guys, seriously.”
Serena nodded. “Kate’s right. We’ll go with you. We all have cell phones, and I have a metal flashlight I can do some damage with.”
“And I’ve got pepper spray,” Kate chimed in.
“Me too,” Sarah affirmed. “We’re like Ridley Charlie’s Angels.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “If it is some kind of trap, maybe I should call the police.”
Sarah snorted. “And tell them what? Someone sent you flowers and a box of chocolates? I’m sure they’ll call in the SWAT team for that.”
Kate spoke in a newscaster voice. “Academy hottie pursued by unknown male who lavishes her with gifts. Film at eleven.”
“Lavishes?” I repeated.
Serena looked at her watch. “We have three hours. Maybe Sarah can teach you some defensive techniques.”
Kate laughed. “Like she’s ever tried to defend herself from a dude in her life.”
Sarah scowled. “I got mad skills. Sting like a wasp. Hit like a…a…brick.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I need to think about this. I mean, you have to admit it’s weird. And Kate’s got a point. It could be dangerous. This isn’t normal first-date stuff.” Not like I’ve had a lot of first dates to compare. But still.
“What are you going to wear?” Sarah asked. “I mean, assuming you wear anything at all?”
“You want to take my place?” I fired back. “Sounds like you’ve got more game for this than I do.”
She fluffed her hair. “All I have to do is dye my hair, cut it, and hack six inches off my legs, and I could be your twin. He’d never suspect.”
“I think it’s romantic,” Kate said. “Although I’m still bringing my pepper spray.”
“Maybe I should borrow it,” I suggested.
“If you don’t know how to use it, you could shoot yourself in the face.”
“Well, I have a little over three hours to learn.”
Eight o’clock found us standing at the edge of a clearing with the remains of a brick flagpole base in the center, where the school in a bygone era had raised the flag every day and the students held a morning prayer. The practice had died out several generations before and now was just a distant memory, although the spot’s name had stuck. Kate had invited two guys she’d met a couple of days before, and one of them carried an aluminum baseball bat and the other a length of pipe, although neither looked particularly dangerous. But safety in numbers, right?
We stood in the warm breeze and Kate inspected my outfit – after an hour of back-and-forth of fashion consultation, we’d finally agreed that I could stick with my clean pair of black jeans with my Docs, but would borrow one of her tops – an ice-white satin spaghetti-strap blouse I felt was way too flirty but the others deemed the perfect choice. I agreed to wear it only if I could bring one of my lumberjack shirts in case it got cold. That was shouted down in favor of Jared’s jacket, which all agreed looked hella tough, even if it was way too big.
“Now what?” I asked, looking around the clearing.
“You ever see that movie where the hero gets called to a meeting, and then a sniper takes him out?” one of the guys asked, sounding both mocking and nervous.
“Who invited him?” Serena asked Kate.
“How long do we wait?” Sarah asked. “I’m missing a raging party somewhere, I’m sure.”
I cocked my head at an unfamiliar sound. A rhythmic whap, whap sound was approaching from the eastern night sky, and we stared in amazement at the heavens as the dark silhouette of a helicopter appeared overhead.
“What the–” the second boy blurted, and then his voice was drowned out by the sound of the chopper’s blades beating at the air as it slowly descended. A light flicked on beneath the nose, flooding the clearing with blinding glare, and then it settled on the field, the downwash flattening the tall grass in a wide circle around it.
I held my breath as the cabin door slid to the side. A man climbed out and glanced around before spotting us. He squinted in the darkness and then waved at me. I almost fainted when I recognized him and, after a moment, offered a weak wave back.
“Who’s that?” Sarah asked over the roar of the rotor.
I tried to speak, but couldn’t make myself heard. I tried again, and this time managed something between a croak and a squeal.
“His name’s…Carl.”
“Um…he’s…he’s a little…old for you, isn’t he?” Kate asked.
I drew a long breath of fresh air. Everyone was staring at me as Carl crossed the clearing, one hand firmly on his chauffeur’s hat to keep it from being blown off by the draft from the chopper blades. I turned to Kate, my eyes still on Carl – as though he might vanish if I looked away.
I cleared my throat and managed to explain, although I could scarcely believe it.
“It’s Jared’s driver.”
Chapter 14
Carl helped me aboard the helicopter, and moments later it lifted into the air, the sensation like being in an elevator that was also moving sideways. I buckled myself in with some help from him, and he took the seat opposite me, his face as unreadable as a block of stone. The noise level from the turbine made speaking difficult, but I still tried.
“What’s going on, Carl?” I yelled.
He cupped a hand the size of a ham hock to his ear and leaned forward. I
tried again, and he sat back.
“Sorry, little lady, can’t make out what you’re saying,” he shouted, but strangely enough I heard him just fine even above the din.
I fingered the jacket and sat on the edge of my seat.
I tried again. “Where are we going?”
“Yeah, it’s a nice night all right,” he said, and I gave up. Either he was acting or he really couldn’t hear; in either case the likelihood of getting a coherent response was the same.
I watched the darkened treetops whizz by beneath me, the moon bright as we soared over the hills. After about fifteen minutes I could make out a river emptying into a bay, with the ocean a glistening mirror beyond. The helicopter dropped down a bit and slowed, and then we were descending to an open patch in front of a long building at the river’s edge.
We touched down and I unbuckled my seatbelt while Carl moved to the door and slid it wide. He hopped out and then helped me down while the pilot shut off the engine.
“In there,” Carl said, indicating the structure. “He’s waiting for you.”
I made my way to the building along a cobblestone path lined with tiki torches flickering in the gloom. At the entrance, a gray-haired man in a black silk vest, tuxedo shirt, and bow tie held the door open for me and motioned for me to enter. “May I take your coat?” he asked.
I shrugged off Jared’s jacket and adjusted the straps of my blouse. The man disappeared into an alcove, and I paused before taking a step down into a nearly empty dining room, with just a few couples scattered about the room, talking intimately. A figure at a grand piano in the corner tickled the keys, and the strains of the Moonlight Sonata drifted through the restaurant. It was completely lovely, and I felt completely out of place.
The man motioned for me to follow him past the tables toward a pair of open French doors. Just beyond was a long deck, also illuminated with torches. Jared was sitting at the only table there, gazing out over the river. He looked up when he heard my boots on the wood, and stood, smiling as I neared. If anything, he looked more handsome than at any other time I’d seen him, his hair in stylish disarray, his eyes blazing blue in the torchlight. He was wearing a cream dress shirt with an open collar and black pants, fortunately not a full tuxedo or something. I didn’t look as mismatched as I’d feared.
“I heard the helicopter,” he said, his voice a velvet croon. “Thanks for coming, Lacey.” He motioned to the chair across from him. “Please.”
I took the offered seat, which fortunately placed my birthmarked side towards the river and angled just out of his view. I fluffed my hair and let it fall in a protective curtain over my neck and shoulders. Jared lowered himself onto his chair and gestured at the moon silvering the river. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
It really was. I nodded. He looked deep into my eyes and the world tilted – for a moment I felt like I was on the deck of a ship pitching through a rough sea. I steadied myself and hoped I wasn’t drooling or that my tongue wasn’t hanging out of my mouth. He smiled as though reading my thoughts, and turned to look back at the restaurant.
“Maybe a little over the top?” he asked.
Ya think? “Maybe just a little,” I agreed.
“I’m glad you took me up on it, in spite of that.”
So am I, I thought, but didn’t say so. Instead I sat back and eyed him. “What’s going on, Jared?”
He smiled. “We’re going to have a nice dinner, I hope. You hungry?”
He’d successfully thrown me off guard. “I could eat.”
“The poached salmon is amazing here. So’s the lobster.”
I glanced back into the dining area. “You, uh, you come here often?”
“I know the people who own it. It’s exclusive enough that it doesn’t get overcrowded. I need my privacy. It’s a major pain when people are gawking at you from every table. One of the pitfalls of show business.”
“Well, you’re pretty hard to miss.”
He shrugged. “I’d wear a fake mustache and nose if I thought it would stay on.”
I laughed at the mental image. He signaled to the man who’d taken my jacket, and in seconds a younger server appeared at the door and stood expectantly.
“What can I bring you to drink?” he asked.
I looked at Jared. “What are you having?”
He held up a wineglass. “Mineral water. I’m on a special diet for the movie.”
My brow crinkled. If anyone in the world didn’t need to watch his weight, it was Jared. I looked to the waiter. “I’ll have the same.”
“You don’t want champagne? You can have anything you like,” Jared said.
“I’m not much of a drinker.” I didn’t want to also say I was too young in front of the waiter. Nothing kills the blush of a first date like getting carded at the table.
“Very well,” the server said, and disappeared into the restaurant. He returned only moments later with a bottle of Perrier, which he emptied into my wineglass. When he was done, Jared raised his glass in a toast, and I joined him, trying to keep my hand from shaking. I was mostly successful and, after a sip, set the goblet on the table.
Jared did the same, and I tried again. “Why did you invite me to dinner, Jared? And how did you know I was in the dorms?”
“I have some pull with the administration.” He hesitated. “I asked.”
So much for my third degree of him. I would probably be doing way better if I didn’t feel like I was falling into a deep lake whenever I looked into his eyes.
“And the why?” I pressed.
“Why don’t we eat first? Don’t want to keep the staff waiting around all night.”
I looked around for a menu, but apparently the waiter had forgotten. Or was expecting us to finish our drinks first?
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for us. I know the menu pretty well.”
I felt a flash of annoyance, but couldn’t bring myself to say, Actually, I do mind. Food’s food, right? Whatever they served here was doubtless pretty good.
Jared gave some sort of signal to the waiter, who glided off at a pace that looked unhurried, yet covered a lot of ground in a short time.
“How were the chocolates?”
“They were delicious, as you said in your note.” A thought occurred to me. “Did you write that? The handwriting’s like…art.”
“I did. One of the few skills I held onto from school. Penmanship was one of my strengths.” Another pause. “I like your blouse.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. His eyes roamed over my face and hair, making me even more self-conscious. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Thank you for saving my life. Maybe twice.”
“I’m glad I was there. It would be a shame for the world to lose you so soon.”
He had an oddly formal way of speaking that I somehow found charming. It was very unlike other guys his age. But somehow it didn’t come off as self-important or affected. Just…thoughtful and measured, which conflicted with the whole bad-boy stage persona. Obviously there was more to him than met the eye.
The waiter arrived with bread rolls on a silver tray and set them down before wordlessly disappearing. Jared offered me one, and I noticed that he didn’t take any for himself. I accepted one as much to have something to do with my hands as because I was genuinely hungry.
I drew in a breath and steeled myself. “Why dinner with me, Jared?” I asked once again.
“Why not?” he countered.
Checkmate in one move. What was I supposed to say to that?
He considered me for a few beats and then shrugged. “I wanted to know more about you. This is what I came up with.”
“All right.” Let’s go with that, then. “So what do you want to know?”
“Well…everything. Favorite color?”
“Gray.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected the answer. “Animal?”
“Horse.”
“Really? Not panther?”
That was odd. “Well, I do like panthers, actually – all the big cats. But you said favorite, so…horse.”
He looked off over my shoulder, as if he were remembering something. “I guess that makes sense.”
I laughed. “You guess? It’s my opinion. I mean, I can’t be wrong.”
“Salty or sweet?”
“Hmm…both. But if I had to pick just one, then sweet.”
“Favorite dessert?”
“Anything chocolate.”
“Right.” He smiled as if I’d just answered correctly on a quiz show.
Before we could play any more twenty questions, the waiter arrived and placed in front of me a platter dominated by a large red-shelled creature with outsized front pincers. Spindly legs extended from its body, and from its head – what was probably its head, anyway – some kind of long antennae curled out and around a lettuce leaf and back towards the body. It looked like a radioactive spider had mated with a scorpion.
“What is this?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
Jared smiled. “Only the best lobster in Maine.”
“Lobster, huh?” I mean, I knew that. I’d seen pictures. But how was I supposed to eat it? What if I hated it?
I tried to look confident and enthusiastic, but obviously failed. “What’s the matter?” asked Jared. “You love lobster.”
Something not a million miles from my temper flared up from deep down. “And how would you know that?” I shot out.
“Well, because… I mean…” He seemed genuinely flustered.
“You don’t know if I love lobster. Even I don’t even know if I love lobster, since I’ve never had it. Pennsylvania’s not exactly surrounded by coasts.” Or my family by money.
For some reason he seemed relieved by my answer. “I just meant, everybody likes lobster. So it seemed reasonable to assume…”
Unable to stop myself from ruining the closest thing to a fairy-tale date I’d ever have, I plunged on. “You said you wanted to get to know me. Then how about getting to know me instead of assuming you already do, based on what ‘everybody’ likes?”
He stared at me for a moment, jaw open in frank astonishment, and then threw back his head and laughed. His reaction was so unexpected that I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. In some strange way, our laughter bonded us, and by the time it subsided, the tension was mostly gone.