Reckoning (14 page)

“All right,” I reluctantly agree. “But you have to absolutely promise you’ll come and get me as soon as I call. If this whole thing goes horribly wrong,
do not
leave me stranded there, looking like a total ass. Or I
will
kill you.”

“I promise.”

I end the call, wondering just what the hell I’m doing.

_________

I spend the rest of the day trying to convince myself that I’ve made the right decision, agonizing over what to wear to the party, and generally wandering aimlessly from room to room. At the same time, I try not to think about any of the strange things that have been happening. Just for today.

In the afternoon, my mom gives me a gift certificate to my favorite clothing store before leaving to meet Liz for a movie and dinner. I think about mentioning the Jeep, but decide to wait. Although two birthday checks I received have brought me a hundred dollars closer to the eight hundred I need, I know it will take more than money to convince her to let me buy it.

As the minutes tick by, slowly and unrelentingly turning into hours, I grow more and more tense as the doubts begin to creep in. By the time Rachel finally arrives at six-thirty, makeover kit in hand, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. She constantly admonishes me to sit still, but after forty minutes of curling, brushing, teasing and pinning, I’m convinced it’s pointless. I start ticking off all the reasons I shouldn’t go, but she ignores me, changing the subject every time I protest. So I force myself to sit quietly while she brushes shimmery peach color onto my cheeks and eyelids, followed by soft brown liner and mascara. Several coats of hair spray and a couple of artfully placed barrettes later, I look in the mirror and my mouth drops open in surprise. She’s actually made me look pretty. My hair falls in loose curls down my back and around my face. The blush brings out my cheekbones and the eyeliner and shadow make my eyes even greener, accentuating their upward slant.

Rachel stands behind me and hugs my shoulders. “You look beautiful.” Her forearm and wrist are covered in stripes and splotches where she’d tested different make-up colors. “Oh! One last thing.” Rummaging through her make-up kit, she pulls out a tube of lip-gloss. “Pucker up!”

I groan in protest. “Rach! I look terrible with lipstick.”

“It’s not lipstick; it’s just gloss. For a little shine.”

I roll my eyes, but obediently purse my lips.

“There! Perfect!” She steps back, smiling in satisfaction.

I look in the mirror again and accept defeat. It looks good. In keeping with the casual theme of the party, I dress in jeans and a dark blue, sheer peasant blouse over a white cami. Rachel adds a delicate silver necklace interspersed with tiny seed pearls and matching earrings. If it weren’t for my nerves, I would feel amazing.

“OK, then!” Rachel says, slapping her hands together and glancing at the clock on my nightstand. “Seven-forty. Time to go!”

I toss my essentials into a small, cross-body bag, making sure that I have my phone, some cash and breath mints, when the picture from the antique store catches my eye. Propped against my computer, it is a silent reminder that there is something I still need to do.

Before I can change my mind, I grab the picture and head for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where are you going? You’ll be late!” Rachel says, looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.

I sigh. “My neighbor bought me this picture the other day when we went shopping. And I never thanked him for it. I just think I should. It’ll only take five minutes. Promise.”

She cocks her head to the side, her expression changing from dismay to excitement. “Oooh, your hot neighbor? You never told me he bought you anything.”

“He didn’t. Not really. It’s just an old picture. And like I told you, he’s really weird.”

“Mm-hmm. You keep telling yourself that.” She begins gathering combs and make-up brushes, placing them into a hard-sided, black train case.

“Seriously,” I say, but she just glances up at me, and smiles. “Anyway, I’ll be right back. If he’s even there. I haven’t seen him for days.”

“Go ahead. I need to wash up anyway. But make it quick. Your chariot awaits.”

“Five minutes,” I promise, holding up my hand, fingers splayed.

I hurry out, making my way quickly across the grass and up the steps to Lovell’s door. The sun has just begun to set, the western edge of the sky glowing in pastel shades of pink and orange. Lovell’s porch is dark and shadowed. I press the doorbell, but don’t hear anything. I wonder if it’s broken. I think about leaving and forgetting the whole thing, then glance at the picture in my hand. No. I need to do this. Even if it’s just to confirm that he had put the picture in my bag.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my hand and rap sharply against the wooden door. Although I listen closely for any sound from the other side, I detect only silence. I gaze at the front window, noting the new plantation shutters. Light seeps through the slats, creating flat yellow rectangles by my feet. Turning back to the door, I knock again, louder this time. The door cracks open, and I step back in surprise, my hand pressed against my chest.

“Hello?” I call softly. “Lovell?”

Silence. Tentatively, I push the door open a little wider, peering around the corner. “Hello,” I say again, before pushing it all the way open and stepping inside. “Anybody home?”

I glance around curiously. The house looks like it has been thoroughly cleaned, the wood floors shining with fresh polish, window glass sparkling, dust and cobwebs removed from corners. A large area rug with colorful geometric patterns covers the living room floor, along with a dark brown leather sofa, two end tables, and the floor lamp from the antiques store. Other than that, the room is bare. My gaze wanders through the empty dining room into the kitchen. I can see a few dishes stacked on the counter, their shiny edges reflecting dully in the fading light.

I hear a noise and my head jerks toward the bedrooms. A light glows at the end of the hallway “Hello?”

The bathroom door opens and Lovell steps out, drying his hair with a towel. He is dressed in a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants. Nothing else. “Hey, man. How much do I owe you?”

I stare at him, speechless. His skin, pale and smooth, glistens with moisture, every muscle clearly and cleanly defined as though he’s been sculpted from marble. A thin red line cuts across his chest, ending near his shoulder. It’s obviously a scar, but from what, I don’t know. I don’t have time to notice more as he lowers the towel and looks up, shaking the hair out of his eyes.

“Kat,” he says softly. As always, the expression on his face is impossible to read. “I thought you were the pizza dude.”

I swallow. “Um, no. Sorry…the door was open. Or kind of clicked open when I knocked. It was weird.” I realize I’m stammering. “Sorry,” I say again, trying to keep my eyes on his face. I must sound ridiculous.

He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. “That’s alright.” A small smile plays around the corners of his mouth. “What’s up?”

What
is
up? Oh, right. The picture. “I came about this,” I say, holding up the picture. “I found it in my purse. I’m guessing you…bought it?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nods. “I forgot about that.”

“Why did you buy it?”

“You wanted it didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s OK. I wanted to. To say thanks. For going with me.”

“Oh. Well…thanks. That was nice. I actually thought I’d left it at the store.” I pause. “How did you manage to put it in my bag? Without my noticing.”

His smile grows wider. “That was easy. You were looking across the room at something, and I just…slipped it in.” His voice is like velvet. Rich and warm, stirring something deep within me. It hints at things I shouldn’t want to know more about, but do.

Without conscious thought, my legs propel me forward and suddenly I’m standing in front of him. I can feel the heat from his body. Smell the fresh-washed scent of him.
What are you doing,
my mind screams. I clear my throat. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks. I should go.”

“You look great,” he says. His eyes move slowly from my hair down to my feet and back up again.

My heart pounds, and I can feel my cheeks beginning to blush. “Thanks.”

“Got a hot date?”

“No. A party, actually. Someone from school.”

“He’s a lucky guy.”

“Who?”

He pushes himself away from the doorway, draping the towel around his neck. Moving past me into the living room, he says, “Whomever you hang out with at the party.”

My pulse is racing. I told Rachel five minutes. I need to go. “I have to go. Rachel’s waiting for me.”

“OK. Have fun tonight.” His blue eyes glow, the pupils large and dark in the dim light.

“Thanks. I will.”

I turn and walk quickly back out to the porch. I can sense him behind me.

“Any more problems with spiders?” he asks.

I turn and laugh nervously. “No, thank goodness.”

He nods. “Good. By the way,” he adds, leaning one forearm against the doorframe. “Happy birthday.”

The remark takes me completely by surprise. “How’d you know it’s my birthday?”

“I heard your friend singing it to you earlier.”

My eyes dart to the dining room where I can see one window pushed all the way open. Directly across from my open bedroom window. I duck my head, remembering Rachel’s earlier full-throated rendition of “Happy Birthday”. And the fact that, just minutes ago, I had called him ‘weird’. Wondering how much he might have heard, I lift my head to find him watching me intently. But his expression reveals nothing. I can only hope that he was already in the shower by the time I’d voiced my assessment.

I get the feeling he’s waiting for something. Some comment or move. But I have no idea what it is. Shifting uncomfortably, my eyes travel back to his. And suddenly, I have the inexplicable urge to touch him. To feel that strange tingle on my skin, moving through my veins. I move forward, my hand lifting slightly. Then the prickling starts at the back of my neck. The prickling that I have begun to dread. I glance to the right. There is a flash of vivid pink that evaporates into the shrubbery, then nothing.

My breath catches in my throat, and suddenly, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Stay with Lovell. But I can’t. The thought is ridiculous. Forcing a smile onto my face, I move toward the edge of the porch. “Well, thanks again. I’ll see you around.”

“OK. See ya, Kat.”

I hurry down the steps, making my way back to my house. I can feel him watching me. Reaching the safety of my living room, I lean my back against the front door, calming my breathing. Focus, I think.
Just focus on the evening ahead.

But one thought keeps racing through my head. The same thought that has been nagging at me ever since I saw the image in the mirror. The thought I’ve been pushing aside, refusing to contemplate because it’s just too disturbing.

The girl is following me
.

I can’t push it aside any longer. In the span of a heartbeat, that brief flash of pink effectively removed the last bit of hope I’ve been clinging to that this will stop. That it won’t get any worse. But now, I have no doubt. This is just the beginning. And I’m not safe anywhere.

Rachel turns onto Rick’s street, creeping slowly forward as we search for the right house number. Cars line the curb on both sides for two blocks. My stomach rolls nervously, and I can’t help but wonder if they are all here for Rick’s party or if maybe one of his neighbors had the same idea. Part of me hopes it’s the latter.

I’ve been second-guessing myself the entire ride over, growing more and more convinced with every passing second that this is a giant mistake. There are so many things that can turn this evening into a disaster. What if the girl follows me? What if another ‘incident’, like the one at school, happens at the party? What if I totally freak out in front of Rick and everyone else? What if Rick completely ignores me, engrossed with his own circle of friends, or worse, we get together, but end up having absolutely nothing to talk about? The questions run through my head, an unceasing river of
what ifs
, pounding against my skull.

Rubbing a hand across my forehead, I know I’ve been a fool to think I can do this.

Rachel brings the car to a stop, and my stomach twists into another knot. “This is it,” she says, pointing to a house on the right.

It is a contemporary two-story, with a Mediterranean design. Arched windows glow with warm light. Wrought iron railings edge the balconies and porch. A massive teak door stands open, revealing large groups of people talking in myriad clusters. I can see more people through the windows, filling the rooms with sound and movement. Music underlies the thrum of voices, flowing from some distant part of the house. There is a burst of laughter and I watch a group of people engaged in animated conversation on the front porch.

“You know, there’s really nowhere to park,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You may as well just keep going. I’ll just…catch up with Rick later.”

“Who needs to park?” Rachel says. “Stop and drop.” She looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “We’ve already gone through this, Kat, and you promised me. You’re not missing this chance. It would be horrible for you, not to mention what it will do to me. Now,
go
.” She squeezes my hand, and gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be great. I promise.” Reaching over me, she pushes open the door. “Call me when you’re ready to go.”

Her cell phone rings, and she rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m just dropping Kat off. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Yeah, yeah, I
know.
” She turns and looks at me. “I gotta go. But just…be strong. Have faith. Right?” She smiles brightly.

I nod and taking a deep breath, step out of the car, reluctantly closing the door. Rachel gives me a thumbs-up before driving off. I look after her longingly. If only she could have come with me. It would have made things so much easier. She could have been my back up, my refuge, if things go seriously wrong.