Flicker Blue 1: Plain Jane

by Brea Nicole Bond

  Chapter VI

  Gravity

  “Alright, girlie, which one is it going to be?”

  Jane paced from one of the seven cars in the huge garage to the next. “They’re all way too nice, Gregory. Hey, I didn’t know we owned the limo!” She hadn’t seen it since the day she arrived, the day of her parents’ funeral.

  “Just pick one. The sooner we do this, the sooner I’m free of watching you and Cris moon over one another in the backseat.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jane hissed as she inspected a bottle-green convertible. She could never drive that into the student parking lot at school.

  “Oh, don’t I? I hear that the reason I had to tell Cris he couldn’t tag along today was because you thought he would be too distracting for you.”

  “You heard no such thing.” Dr. Sylfaen wouldn’t have said anything of the kind, even if it had been true. And it wasn’t.

  “Okay, so I may have read between the lines a bit….” Gregory laughed out loud at her. She smiled back. His teasing was all in good humor, and she knew it. She imagined that’s how a big brother would have teased her, if she’d ever had one. When Dr. Sylfaen had mentioned the driving lessons over dinner, Gregory had seemed sincerely pleased to accept his assignment. Today, he’d traded in his usual suit for a casual, and unseasonable, pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt. He wouldn’t be driving any stuffy old man in that outfit—today was all about Jane.

  “What are you looking for, girlie?”

  “Ugh! I don’t know, something…ordinary…inconspicuous.”

  “Sorry. You won’t find anything ordinary in here,” he laughed as they walked from one vehicle to the next. Jane noticed, for the first time, a reddish-brown tattoo that wrapped around Gregory’s bare forearm, just below his elbow—a wide band filled with elaborate geometric patterns—and she touched it with one finger. Gregory’s smile contracted but didn’t disappear altogether. He gave Jane a quizzical look, and she looked away, not entirely sure why she was embarrassed by the silent exchange.

  “I just don’t get it. Does he even like these cars?” she asked, eager to return to the task at hand. “Why does he need so many?”

  “Sylfaen’s a collector by nature, I guess. He’s let me pick a few of them out, as I’m generally the one who drives them. Except when Ange comes out. That’s her favorite, there.” He pointed to the convertible Jane had been admiring.

  “Seriously?”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s a sweet woman most of the time, but you should see her behind the wheel. Grrr!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to lay claim to her favorite car, or Uncle Mederick’s,” she added as she gestured to the enormous white car that Gregory usually chauffeured him around in. Jane didn’t know the make and model of that car any better than she recognized any of the others, but she had nicknamed it The Yacht, for obvious reasons. “And the limousine’s out of the question, so…how about that one?” Jane walked over to a small black sedan and stopped behind it.

  “That one? Do you have any idea what kind of car that is?”

  “Sure,” she shrugged, reading the letters on the back of the car. “It’s a…a BMW, right?”

  Gregory pushed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets as he mumbled something inaudibly. He was either very frustrated with her or very, very near the point of laughing himself to death.

  “Okay, girlie, the Bimmer it is.”

  Jane opened the driver side door and settled into the tan leather seat. She sighed. The more she looked at the car, the more she liked it. It was a little sportier than she would have preferred, but it still seemed more sensible than any of the other cars in the garage. At least it was black—one of the cars was canary yellow, and the red one looked like it was ready for a racetrack. This seemed nice, but still normal. It had four doors, so she would have room for her friends, and it had an automatic transmission. That was definitely a plus.

  “So,” she asked as Gregory slid into the seat next to her, “how do I look?”

  “Hmmm…very inconspicuous, kiddo.”

  The beginning of March brought an unexpected but welcome change in the weather. After four solid days of rainstorms that forced Cris and Jane’s study sessions inside, the sun broke through the clouds, bringing with it the first warm days of the new year, just a hint of what promised to be a very hot summer, even for Georgia.

  On the first Saturday after the pleasant weather rolled in, Jane intended to sleep in late, but she slumped out of bed around nine o’clock when she heard the sound of rapping knuckles on her door.

  “What?” she inquired flatly through the door as she cracked it open and peeked through. Cris was standing in the hallway outside.

  “I’m sorry, Janie. I thought you were up.”

  “Well, I am now.” She opened the door fully and made an invitational gesture as she stifled a yawn. Cris loped in and took his customary position in the chair beneath the window, with his feet propped on the foot of her bed. “Comfy?”

  “Yep,” he answered. “So…it’s really nice out. I thought you might want to go out with us today.”

  “Us?” Jane wasn’t precisely in the mood for family time, no matter how fair the weather.

  “Yeah. Me, of course, and Hannah Grace and Anna and a few others from school. Are you in?”

  “Hmmm…. Where are we going?” Jane asked. She vaguely recalled the lot of them working on some sort of plan in the cafeteria, but she hadn’t been listening. She yawned as she walked into her closet to assess her options for the day.

  “Well, we decided to go out to Lake Everword. Brandon’s grandparents have a lake house there, and he talked them into inviting everyone over today.” Lake Everword, though named for the town where they lived, was about a twenty-minute drive southeast and the closest option for anything like a beach.

  “And hang out with his grandparents? Ew,” she said from behind the closet door, but she had already exchanged the patent leather flats she’d picked out for a sportier pair of sandals that would be more appropriate for walking in sand.

  “No, they’re not staying there right now. It’s just their vacation home. Brandon’s talking about having a party there in a few weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “Jesus, Janie, where have you been lately? Spring Break, remember?”

  Jane frowned. She hadn’t remembered—her impending trip with Dr. Sylfaen had kept her abnormally preoccupied.

  “Well, are you ready yet?” Cris stood up from the chair and faced the window. He pushed aside the yellow lace curtains and opened the window. A draft of cool air perfumed with the aroma of early spring flowers sliced into the stale air of Jane’s bedroom. He inhaled deeply before changing the subject.

  “So, how are the driving lessons going?”

  “Fine.” Jane re-entered the bedroom and sat down on her vanity stool to put on her sandals. She had donned a pair of capri-length khakis and a loose long-sleeve top that revealed the halter straps of her bikini.

  “When do I get to come with you?”

  “You don’t. I’ve already told you that.” About a thousand times.

  Cris scowled. “I wish it were my birthday. I don’t guess he’ll get me a car, though, so it probably doesn’t matter.”

  “He’s not giving me the car. I’m just going to be able to use it to drive us to school.”

  “And whenever else you want to use it, which basically means he’s giving you the car.”

  Jane gave a noncommittal shrug as she packed a large tote bag with sunscreen, a change of clothes, and a few other incidentals. She’d become more comfortable with the idea of driving Dr. Sylfaen’s BMW as the days passed. While she packed, the hum of a car engine winding down the street sounded through the open window.

  “That must be Brandon. He was coming to pick us up after he got Hannah Grace. You ready?” asked Cris as he walked to the window and held back the lace curtain with one hand. “I’ll go down and tell them to give you a
few minutes if—wait a sec, that can’t be Brandon.” He cocked an ear toward the open window; he had not yet seen the approaching car but was passing his judgment based on the sound of the engine. He leaned his head as far beyond the pane as he could, but he stepped back when he spotted the advancing vehicle.

  “Who is it?” Jane’s curiosity compelled her to join Cris at the window. She leaned out, too, and saw a small silver convertible that made her new car look like a beat-up station wagon by comparison. Even Jane, in her extremely limited knowledge, was impressed. “Did Dr. Sylfaen get a new car?” she wondered aloud, craning her head to see if Gregory was driving the convertible.

  “No,” replied Cris at the precise moment that Jane spied the driver.

  That’s when it happened.

  A surge of emotion crashed over Jane, simultaneously pinning her to where she stood even as she felt like she might drown in the rip current of her thoughts. Even from the distance between the street and her bedroom window, she was literally stunned by the man behind the wheel of the silver car. He was beautiful—Jane knew as much even though she could not make out the details of his features. Her vision blurred everything out of focus but his pale face, and she perceived a tinkling sound, like a faint ringing in her ears. The car slowed as it passed by the Sylfaen mansion, and she stopped breathing because she knew that he was coming to her house, coming for her.

  “Janie?”

  She put a hand up to silence Cris, though she barely heard him. The car passed the myrtle-lined driveway and turned, instead, to the house next door, which was a fair distance away. She took a breath. The little convertible parked on the circular drive out front, but Jane’s view was partially obstructed by the trees between the two lots. She could just make him out as he got out of his car and walked up to the front door of her neighbor’s house; nonetheless, she watched intently, drinking in every detail she could absorb. His gait was determined, but graceful…almost sinister. Jane liked it.

  When he was out of sight, she mumbled, “Who is that?” She couldn’t yet peel her eyes from the window.

  “I don’t know,” Cris answered. “Some car, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “So, are you ready to go? They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Hmmm?” Were we going somewhere? “I think I’ll stay home today.”

  “What? I thought you were almost ready to go to the lake with us!” Cris lifted the beach tote as evidence, but Jane had not left her post at the open window.

  “Yeah, the lake…I’m not sure I feel up to hanging out with everyone today.” Her voice sounded a million miles away. “You have fun, though.”

  Cris looked at her, disappointed and perplexed, but neither of them spoke until the sound of a second approaching car penetrated the silence.

  This time, the engine sounded appropriately out of shape to be driven by a middle-class teenage boy, and, sure enough, Brandon pulled into the driveway a moment later. He honked the horn of his aging SUV, and Hannah Grace leaned out of the front passenger seat, waving and calling for them to come down.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  “Yeah, go ahead without me, Cris. Tell everyone that I’m sorry, and that I’ll see them at school Monday, ‘kay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He gave her a quick farewell squeeze and shook his head. “Bye, Janie.” She heard his feet pad across her bedroom carpet, her door open and reclose with a click. Her gaze never left the window, though, and a few seconds later Cris was climbing in to the backseat next to Anna. Jane thought she heard him explain that she was feeling a little under the weather, and then they were off. Cris glanced up to her window as they departed, and he shot her a disappointed smile.

  I am a terrible friend. What the hell just happened to me? Jane’s knees began to quiver, and, before she could reach the chair to steady herself, she dropped to the floor in a heap. Tears of confusion welled up in her eyes and spilled out onto her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away—she let them flood over her cheeks, into her hands, and onto the carpet below her. What was that? I was ready to go to the lake with everyone…why did I change my mind? It had happened so quickly.

  Of one thing, though, Jane was absolutely certain. She was determined to get a better look at the stranger in the silver car.

  Despite being the only resident of the third story of the Sylfaen mansion, Jane had never spent time in any of the other bedrooms, except for taking a brief look at each on her first day in the house, and only to decide which of them she wanted to move into. The room she had chosen for herself was small (by comparison to the others, at least) and partially tucked under the eave of the front of the mansion, with the single large window set into a gable. The irregular planes of the ceiling and the built-in bookshelf along the back wall had added to the illusion of coziness, and Jane hadn’t hesitated when she made her selection. Today, however, she ventured into the largest of the five suites, located across the back of the third story, in order to scope out the balcony that spanned its entire length.

  The bedroom suite was immense. It consisted of a vast living area with its own fireplace and four pairs of French doors that opened onto the balcony. On the side of the room with the fireplace was a door leading into the extremely spacious bedroom. There was also a sizable study set off of the living area, on the side opposite the bedroom. The entire suite was furnished in rich woods and beige and bronze silk. No one person could possibly require this much space, and Jane had been downright intimidated when it was offered to her. She doubted that even Dr. Sylfaen’s chambers off of the library could rival these rooms. Now, after nearly three months of adjusting to a more lavish lifestyle than she had ever known before, Jane could better appreciate its brilliance.

  Why didn’t I just choose this in the first place? I mean, I don’t need this much space, or anything so fancy, but it’s not like anyone else is using it. It seems like such a waste for nobody to live here. Jane shrugged the thought away, but she promised herself that she would seriously consider the possibility of moving sometime in the future.

  For now, her task at hand was the priority. Since she had already debuted her new bathing suit and had a tube of sunscreen ready and waiting in her tote bag, Jane had decided to conduct a little tanning session on the balcony. The pretense seemed innocent enough, and it would give her the opportunity to check out the view of the neighboring house—she was nearly frantic for a peek at the mysterious stranger next door, if only to help her figure out why she had acted so strangely to his arrival. After taking a quick and appreciative glance at the gorgeous apartment, Jane opened one of the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. In addition to a round table with wrought iron legs and four matching chairs, there was also a pair of chaise lounges. Perfect, Jane thought as she released her bag onto the deck (it was stained deep brown, like the deck of the back porch two stories below it) and flopped down into the lounge closest to the side of the balcony that overlooked the house the stranger had entered.

  The view consisted of the side and back of the neighboring house. Like the front façade, these featured as much, if not more, window than actual wall. The effect was significantly more modern than any of the other mansions on the street, especially the Sylfaen residence. The two lots were separated by a short stone wall, maybe five or six feet tall at best. On the Sylfaen side of the wall, Jane could see the entirety of the green, rolling lawn and the cottage set against the trees. On the other side, deep and deliberately landscaped flower beds surrounded a huge courtyard paved in stone. Much of the space was occupied by a gigantic swimming pool with irregularly curved edges that created the illusion that it was a natural pool in a forest paradise. Wow, Jane thought as she pulled off her top and began rubbing sunscreen onto her shoulders.

  The weather was a still a little cool for sun bathing, but not uncomfortably so. Jane wondered how her friends were faring on their way to Lake Everword—maybe she should have joined them after all. Then again, this was only th
e first day of the warm weather, and she would have other opportunities to go to the lake. She might never have another shot as seeing him again. Jane laughed nervously at the thought of her family learning of her attempt to peep at the boy next door. She would never live it down. Even so, her realization that she was spying did not persuade her to leave the balcony.

  A couple of hours later, Jane heard Angelita calling her from the hallway inside. “Jane? Jane, are you up here?”

  “I’m in here, Angelita,” Jane replied as she emerged from the doorway of the large suite.

  Angelita turned to her in surprise. “Oh! What are you doing in there? Is that a bikini?”

  “Uh, yeah. I was just, uh, getting some sun out on the balcony. It’s so nice out today, you know?”

  “It is, but…why didn’t you go with Cris and your friends from school if you wanted some fresh air?”

  Jane thought for a moment. Angelita was buying her story so far, and she didn’t want to mess it up now. How stupid will she think I am if she figures out I’m spying on the neighbor? “I don’t know, Angelita. I’m just so tired from school this week. I guess I needed some down time.”

  Angelita nodded and crooked her trademark maternal smile (which was not, Jane noticed with chagrin, terribly unlike the smile Cris wore when he was concerned about her). “I understand, baby. Everything okay with you and Cris?”

  Jane blushed furiously as she attempted to answer. That was not a question she’d expected. “Uh—well, uh, yeah. I guess so.”

  Angelita chuckled at her. “Here,” she pushed the tray that she carried into Jane’s arms. “I brought you an early lunch, in case you didn’t feel up to coming down. Chicken salad okay? It’s leftover from the batch I made for Cris to take to the lake.”

  “It’s perfect. Thanks.” Jane carried the tray out to the balcony and resumed her post while she ate. She considered Angelita’s question carefully. Is everything okay with Cris and me?

  As she nibbled the first bite of Angelita’s chicken salad, Jane heard the sound of a glass door rolling open in the distance. She stood up and leaned over the balcony rail, as if the few extra inches she gained might improve her view of the neighbor’s yard.

  It was him.

  The man strolled gracefully toward a table in the courtyard, near the pool. The ringing in Jane’s ears was back, as was the strange blurriness that seemed to sweep over everything in her periphery, everything but him. Jane decided that he was younger than she had expected, based on her brief glimpse that morning. Maybe nineteen? Twenty? She had a better view now, but she was still too far away to tell for sure. He had brown hair—not a boring, average brown like her own, but a rich chestnut brown—arranged in a deliberately tousled style, and fair skin. The contrast was striking. His back was bare, revealing broad shoulders and more of his perfect white skin. Like a walking statue, she thought as she reminded herself to breathe. He wore nothing but a pair of dark swim shorts.

  “Damn.” She whispered the word—nothing else seemed appropriate to say.

  The stranger hesitated as he approached the pool, and his face turned upward in the direction of Jane’s balcony.

  Oh, crap. He must have sensed that he was being watched. Jane waved as nonchalantly as she could manage. She couldn’t see his face very clearly, but she could tell that he smiled as he waved back to her. Jane collapsed into her lounge. She fished a pair of tortoise-shell sunglasses out of her tote and pressed them roughly onto her face. She turned her face as far away from him as she could without losing sight of him from the corner of her eye. Her head reeled as she watched him dive into the pool. If it was barely warm enough for laying out, it was definitely too cold for swimming. When the neighbor surfaced, his wet hair appeared black as he shook it from his marble face.

  Jane studied the stranger as he swam back and forth across the pool in long strokes. Every once in a while, he would pause to look back up to the balcony, where Jane was busily pretending to read the short story that Mr. Andersen had assigned to her class over the weekend. They spent a good chunk of time that way; the stranger never seemed to tire of his laps across the pool, and Jane could have watched him for hours on end, if Angelita had not interrupted to retrieve her lunch trays and pass on the message that Dr. Sylfaen wanted to speak to her in the library.

  As she couldn’t exactly march into the library wearing nothing but her bikini, Jane pulled her top over her head and shook her hair out over her shoulders. She tugged one leg into her khakis, but stopped. Abruptly aware that she, too, was being observed, Jane looked down to the neighbor’s pool. He was watching her.

  She waved again, one nervous jerk of her open hand, and concluded dressing as quickly as possible before snatching up her bag and bolting back into the living room of the bedroom suite. As she caught her breath against the wall, Jane’s vision and hearing gradually returned to normal. She’d hardly been aware that they had been off until she could make out the lines of the silk sofa cushions, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan in the center of room; then again, she hadn’t noticed that her heart had been pumping out of her chest most of the morning, either, which was undoubtedly the cause of her strange symptoms. Why can’t I fall in love like a normal teenager? God forbid I actually meet him face to face…I’d probably drool onto the floor or pass out or something…. She walked into the hallway and had descended three steps down the staircase when she realized she had used the term “fall in love” in her thoughts. Oh, for Christ’s sake! I don’t even know his name! This definitely complicated her feelings for Cris, if she really had any, as all of her friends seemed to suspect. She liked him, a lot, but liking him was a matter of will—a decision that she could control. Her fascination with her stranger was completely involuntary, a force of nature. Like gravity. Even if she never did get a chance to meet him, Jane wasn’t sure that she could settle for feeling anything less about a potential boyfriend.

  Pull yourself together, Jane, she told herself as she reached the library’s double doors, but she couldn’t help the smile that escaped her lips as she recalled that tomorrow was forecast to be another sunny day.