Beware That Girl (22 page)

“What? No!”

“You just can’t leave it alone, can you? You think you’re the hottest, most mysterious thing in the whole school! Ooooh, what does Kate think? Will Kate be coming? Where’s Kate? Everybody wants Kate.” She took a step toward me. “You just can’t take it! He wants
me.
Me above all others. He
adores
me.”

“I’m anything but jealous! He makes my skin crawl.”

Bruce came between us, wagging and whimpering like his life depended on it.

“Well, if you’re not jealous of
me,
you must be jealous of
him.
Is that it, Kate?” She was yelling now. “Is he getting in the way of us? Are you worried that he’ll mess up your gravy train? Ruin it for you somehow?”

And there it was.

And it was probably true. So I had nothing. No comeback.

“You’re not getting in the way of us. He wants me and I want him. Deal with it.” She was calmer now, colder. “If you value our relationship, don’t risk it. You’ve got a lot to lose. Don’t you
ever
mention his name again, or you’ll be out on your ass.”

I turned away before my head exploded. I wanted to scream,
Don’t worry yourself, Olivia. I won’t make the mistake of giving a crap again.

I settled for slamming the door.

6:35 p.m.

The remorse was instant and uncomfortable. Olivia’s skin felt like it was on too tight. Remorse? She flipped open her laptop and Googled.

re·morse
\riˈmôrs\
noun

1
. deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed:
they were filled with remorse and shame.

synonyms:
contrition, deep regret, repentance, penitence, guilt, compunction, remorsefulness, ruefulness, contriteness; pangs of conscience, self-condemnation, self-reproach; guilt complex

e.g., Have you no remorse for what you did to your friends?

Yup. That’d be it in black and white. Olivia spent the next few minutes righteously cataloguing how and why she was the aggrieved one. But nothing had traction. She had never cared for or about a friend more than she did Kate, and she was sure that none of her friends had ever cared more genuinely for her.

Yeah, Kate needed her.

But she needed Kate more. Much more.

Olivia slumped deeper into the chair. Bruce had deserted her. Now what? Kate was mental on the topic of Mark and she couldn’t allow her to trash him at every turn, but…

“Oh, hell!”

She got up and walked into the living room. Not there. She went over and knocked on Kate’s door before entering. Not there.
Oh, God, what if she…?

“Kate? Kate!”

“We’re in the kitchen.”

The relief was almost as instant as the remorse. Olivia hustled to the kitchen. Kate was on the floor with Bruce, laptop open.

Olivia joined them. “Look, that…” She stopped. Why hadn’t she prepared what to say? “That was, well, unfortunate. We—
I
—said things that aren’t…Kate, you’re my best friend. So except for the part about never talking about Mark again, can we pretend it never happened? Please?”

Bruce crawled into Kate’s lap and bathed her face in licks.

“See? Bruce and I would both be grateful.”

Silence.

“Fine,” Kate eventually groaned. “I can’t fight both of you.”

“Thank you.” Olivia rose and extended a hand to Kate. “I, uh, also need a favor.”

“About this weekend.”

“Yes.” Olivia began to pace around the island. “I’ll be away Saturday, returning sometime on Sunday. I’m going to tell Anka that I’m off to visit Jessica in Boston and get a taste of college life.”

Kate inhaled and nodded, but she didn’t say anything.

“So if my father calls on the house phone…?”

“I’ll tell him you’re with Jessica.”

“Yes, thanks. And I’m going to need your notes on the readings for AP English when I get back.”

Kate nodded again, but it was like she was on autopilot.

Olivia exhaled. “That’s great! Really, Kate, it means a lot. I’m going to go pick out my wardrobe before we have dinner.” She spun around and started for her room with Bruce at her heels. “Honestly, thanks a mil!”

“S’okay,” Kate called. “What are friends for?”

6:55 p.m.

There was collateral damage in the aftermath of that little confrontation—me. What just happened? I’d ignored the early warning signals and now it felt like there were missiles raining down on my head.

How dare I risk everything, this whole setup? Who cared if he chewed her up and spit her out? Caring was dangerous and sloppy. It got in the way. Sure, I had to keep an eye out, but caring was for losers.

Yet aside from Sister Rose, no one had ever been kinder or more openly generous to me than Olivia had.

So I cared. Big mistake.

I had to get back on survival footing, which meant war footing. I needed to find out everything there was on Olivia, because I was pretty sure that Mark already knew. That had to be his game. I had a gut feeling that he
knew
stuff and then played accordingly. Yup, information had to be his trump card. He must have got to Kruger by now. Between her and Draper, all the files were there for his pickings. Mark probably knew everything there was to know about me, about my dad, about it all. He was just biding his time. But how was he going to use it? Jesus. My stomach seized. I felt my way to the bathroom.

I turned on the bath taps but threw up before I stepped into the tub. Sinking into the water, I realized that I’d have to start with him. Mark. Who was he? Where was he before this? He’d said he was at a lot of schools. What did that mean, exactly?

I couldn’t sit on the sidelines and just watch this play out anymore. I needed to arm myself. I’d had this sense of pure dread before, but I didn’t know what to do about it. How to act. I was a kid. Not this time. No, sir.

Then I got out of the bath and threw up again.

It was as if someone drew him. He was that beautiful naked. Olivia watched Mark slip smoothly out of bed and into a pair of khakis and a black T-shirt.

He turned to her and put a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything.”

Olivia propped herself up on one elbow, her legs winding around the immaculately white silk sheets.

Mark groaned. “Just nod. I’m going out for coffees and bagels to feed my queen.”

She nodded.

Mark smiled, but he didn’t start for the door. He stood still in the simmering silence, taking her in. He reached over with the back of his fingers and stroked her from collarbone to ankle with a touch so light she wasn’t entirely sure that he had made contact. But he must have, because her body began to respond. Again.

“Don’t move, not a muscle. You’re glorious. I want you just like that when I return.”

Olivia nodded.

She didn’t even exhale until she heard the front door close.

She wanted to prance around the room, giggle, squeal and scream. She wanted to admire herself in the mirror and hug herself. What a night! What a morning! She was drunk with pleasure. Mark seemed to know everything about her. About who she was and how she was. He “got” her like no one else possibly could, and despite all that, he loved her. He more or less said so.

“There is so much about you that I love, Olivia.”

But she shouldn’t move. Mark was so serious about his commands. No, not commands, per se, but wishes. That’s it, he
wished
her to do certain things.

But she had to pee.

And she had to take a pill. She hadn’t taken one yesterday, and she would be two behind if she didn’t take one right now. Where was her backpack?

But he said not to move a muscle.

She smiled at herself in the closet mirror. Yes. This was more than anything she could have imagined. She was wildly alive, every nerve ending sparked. Mark had awakened everything.

He loved her.

But she really did have to go to the bathroom. Olivia got up carefully. She went to the bathroom and then tiptoed into his immaculate living room, where she found her backpack and retrieved the pill bottle. Eyeing the door, she dry-swallowed the tablet. Olivia then tiptoed back to the bedroom giggling, because for the life of her, she didn’t know why she was tiptoeing.

Mark Redkin’s bedroom was opulent, but discreetly so. Anything you touched or laid your hand on was sensual and perfect—the silk sheets, the suede headboard, the honed ebony side tables and the stainless steel dresser.

How she wanted to open just one drawer.

Better not.

She cautiously rearranged herself back into position, taking great care to place the sheet around her in the exact replica of her original pose.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I’ll never tire of looking at you, touching you. Knowing that you’re mine.”

He
loved
her.

And of course, she loved him. Did from almost their very first meeting. She’d understood even then that he could bring her fully to life. That’s why Olivia would do and be anything for Mark Redkin. Anything at all.

She heard the front door open. “Honey, I’m home!” Mark chuckled to himself and it made her smile.

Yes, she would gladly, willingly do anything to make him happy.

She already had.

There had been a shift, a big one. Most of the time, Olivia was with me in body but not in spirit. Oh, she was as charmingly distant at school as ever, but now she was charmingly distant with me too. We still did our homework together. We still bitched about the other girls and the teachers. She still teased me about Johnny—even insisting that I invite him to the High Line party (no chance). And most of the time, we still walked Bruce together. It was so
us,
but ever since our blowup over Mark, it was not us.

The unspoken was deafening.

I tried to spoon-feed her possible exit thesis topics all week. We were supposed to choose something that affected us personally but had global applications, like the calming benefits of having a pet during senior year; an emotional cost–benefit analysis of uniforms versus street clothes; or the comparative private high school experiences in New York, São Paulo and Singapore. I figured her dad could shovel her some great info on that last one. But Olivia went and picked “The Hidden Value of Fund-Raising in the Private School System.”