Envy - 2 (4 page)

“I’m not real y going to have that much time,” she cautioned Harper. “I don’t know if—”

“Beth, he
needs
you,” Harper pleaded. “Real y, you’re his only hope. He told me he knew you were the only one who’d be able to help him.”

“Real y?” When she was eleven, Beth had found a three-legged jackrabbit lying in her backyard and, with her father’s help, had nursed it back to health. She’d never been able to say no to desperation—and today was no different. “Wel , I guess if he needs me …”

“Great!” Harper tore a piece of paper from her notebook and scrawled something on it before handing it to Beth. “Here’s his number. I’l tel him you’re going to cal ASAP.” And she skipped away before Beth had a chance to change her mind.

Mission accomplished—and so easily that it was difficult to feel too proud of herself.

But Harper managed.

“You are going to love me,” she crowed into her cel once Kane answered the phone.

“Not unless you’re waiting for me in the parking lot with some black coffee and a Playboy bunny,” Kane retorted. “Otherwise, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Harper, about a hundred yards away, sneered at the sight of his adoring harem. Had these girls no respect for themselves?

Stupid question.

“What do you mean, you can see?” Kane looked up from the nearest buxom brunette and began scanning the parking lot.

“On your left, loser boy.” Harper waved lazily until he spotted her. “And you’re not too busy for this. Trust me.” She snapped the phone shut and watched as Kane grudgingly kissed the girls good-bye and jogged over.

“This better be good,” he grumbled once he’d reached her. “I’ve been bored long enough for one day. I need to go out and wash off the stench of al this educational earnestness with some good, old-fashioned debauchery.”

“What you need is to go home and study for the SATs,” Harper countered.

“The SATs?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

“The SATs that are three weeks away?”

She nodded again.

“The SATs that I couldn’t give a shit about?”

“You got it.”

“Harper, you know that practice test in there? I scored above a seven hundred on every section. You know what that means?” He spoke slowly and patiently, as if she would soon be taking her own test—English as a second language. “It means I’m not studying today, tomorrow—hel , I may never study again.” Harper gave him a gentle pat on the back and shook her head sadly. “No, you’re going home and cracking the books. Right now, and tomorrow, and the next day. You’re going to make the library your new best friend.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he sneered.

Harper grinned, and jerked a thumb across the parking lot toward Beth, who was climbing into Adam’s rusty maroon Chevrolet.

“Meet your new tutor.”

Kane’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did.”

Harper laid out her vision for him—long, late nights huddled together over the books; frequent breaks for coffee, pizza, and intimate getting-to-know-you sessions; close quarters; moonlit strol s; high stress, low inhibitions—when Harper Grace made a deal, she delivered. And even Kane had to admit that she had just delivered Beth to his doorstep, complete with gift wrap and ruffled bow.

“And while I’m sweeping Beth off her feet with my charm and feigned stupidity, I assume you’l be … taking care of Adam?” Harper al owed herself a moment to enjoy a second vision: Adam, sitting at home, bored, lonely, angry, jealous, and primed for … wel , anything.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she said sweetly.

Kane laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“And I have no doubt, Grace,” he assured her, “that you’re just the girl to do it.”

Having finished eavesdropping on the pathetic scheming out in the parking lot, Kaia headed back inside the school to take care of some unfinished business. Watching Harper and Kane haplessly put together their juvenile little plot had inspired her—why should they be the only ones having any fun?

She tugged down her silk tank top and hitched up her blue miniskirt so that her perfect (and worth every cent) cleavage and Pilates-sculpted thighs had maximum visibility. Then she stepped inside the classroom. Jack Powel may have thought he could avoid her forever, but his time had just run out.

“Hey, Mr. Powel ,” she whispered, leaning against the door frame and aiming an unmistakable look in his direction familiar to any adult-movie fan as a silent “Hey, big guy, throw me down and do me right here on the floor” invitation. It was intended to be ironic. Partly. “Long time, no see.”

“I see you every day in class, Ms. Sel ers,” he said. She shivered at the sound of his voice. “And trust me, that’s quite enough.” He turned his back on her. Big mistake.

Kaia closed the door and crossed the empty classroom, shedding the cheesy sex-me-up grin as she went. It seemed Mr. Powel was stil playing hard to get—and she was beginning to enjoy his game. She laid a light hand on the smal of his back, saying, “I see
you
every day in French—but I’m not sure you’re real y seeing me.” He whirled around to face her and backed away.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he hissed. “Isn’t it enough for you that I’m on probation after your little stunt at the dance? It was al I could do to talk them out of firing me.”

“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m the victim here,” Kaia countered. “According to Mr. Hemp, at least.” Kaia had been reprimanded for her “flagrant disregard of Mr. Powel ’s personal space” and had been sentenced to six weeks’ worth of meetings with the school psychologist, who, she suspected, had received his pseudo degree off the Internet, if not purchased it at Shrinks “R” Us. She would have preferred a prison term.

“Victim?” He snorted. “I’m warning you, Kaia, if you’re trying to spread some kind of—if you think you can set me up—”

“Chil out, Jack.” She flashed an insouciant grin. “I think you got my message. This time I come in peace. I want to cal a truce.”

“A truce?” he repeated dubiously. “So this means you’re going to stop throwing yourself at me and end this apparent quest to get me fired?”

“Provisional yes to the latter, definite no to the former.” She leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the lips, but he twisted his face away, and instead her lips brushed his coarse stubble. Good enough. “You want me, Mr. Powel . You just don’t know it yet. But you wil .”

“I want you to get out of here,” he said coldly, “and make sure that no one sees you go. And then I want you to drop French and do me the favor of pretending I don’t exist. Or at least letting me pretend that about you. Let’s start now.”

He sat down at the desk and began shuffling through a stack of papers, pointedly refusing to look at her.

Kaia stood before him, hands on her hips, shaking her head and clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, like a mother reprimanding her young.

“Mr. Powel , I thought we’d already established that if I want to, I can make life here very unpleasant for you. You said it yourself—I can be trouble. You’re right. I don’t think you want to be rude to me.”

Silence. And more paper shuffling.

“Okay,” Kaia agreed, heading for the door. “You’re lucky I’m in a ‘make love, not war’ mood … for now.”

After escaping the SAT session, Beth and Adam treated themselves to an impromptu picnic in Dwyer Park (complete with brownish tufts of grass, brownish decaying picket fence, and brownish pond—as desert oases went, it ranked somewhere between Palm Springs and a garbage dump). Once they’d gotten everything set up, Adam ran off to grab them some soda from the nearby drugstore. Beth’s phone rang as soon as he was gone.

It was Kane. She’d left a message for him just after leaving the school, so she wasn’t surprised to see his name pop up on her cal er ID. Stil , it was strange—he’d never cal ed her before. And if he had, she probably wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

They only spoke for a few minutes, just enough time to agree on the tutoring and pick a time for their first meeting. But the conversation wasn’t nearly as awkward as she’d feared—and weirdly, Beth found herself almost looking forward to their first encounter.

She put the phone away with a quizzical frown. Kane had seemed so genuine, so earnest, so pleasant, so … total y un-Kane-like. He’d limited himself to only two sarcastic comments and one sexual innuendo. For a five-minute conversation, it had to be a personal best. And even stranger—he actual y seemed to want her help. He seemed to want to do wel , whatever it would take.

Kane? Working? Had she walked out of the school this morning and into some alternate universe?

The Kane she knew—though, granted, she didn’t know him very wel and had never wanted to change that—thought hard work meant applying a little extra torque when opening a stuck bottle lid. And even that was only worth it if the bottle contained some kind of alcoholic beverage or was handed to him by a weak and soon to be very grateful cheerleader. Back before she and Adam had gotten together, Kane had chased after her, as he did every girl—for about a day. She’d blown him off, and he’d disappeared. Kane didn’t believe in making an effort.

She shook her head. This time he real y must be desperate.

“Who was on the phone?” Adam asked, sitting down on the worn quilt that served as their picnic blanket and passing her a deliciously cool bottle of Coke.

“Your best friend, actual y.” Searching for a relief from the searing, dry heat of the afternoon, she pressed the bottle against her forehead, enjoying the icy chil that ran down her spine.

“Harper?” he asked, confused.

Beth flinched. She respected Adam’s friendship with the beautiful girl next door, but she didn’t have to like it.

“No, your other best friend—you remember Kane, don’t you?”

Adam shook his head in disgust. “What, is he trying to track me down? Dude, I never should have told him I was going out with you today.”

“Actual y, he was looking for me,” Beth said, smacking him lightly with an annoyance that was only half for show.

“You? Why would he be cal ing you?”

“People have been known to want to talk to me,” she informed him, irritation mounting.

“I know, I know,” Adam murmured, kissing her on the forehead. “You’re in high demand. In fact,” he added, kissing his way down her nose and landing on her lips, “I want you right now.”

“He wants my help,” Beth explained, somewhat mol ified. “With studying for the SATs.”

“Kane? Studying?” Adam burst into laughter. “I don’t think so. Seriously, what did he want?”

“I know, I thought it was weird too,” Beth admitted. “But he seems to real y want a tutor.”

“And he asked
you
?”

“Why wouldn’t he ask me?”

“I just meant—whatever,” Adam stopped himself. “So he’s had a personality overhaul and wants a tutor for the SATs. You’re not going to do it, are you?”

“Of course I am—he’s my friend,” she reminded him. “Wel … he’s your friend. And he needs my help. Why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because these days you’re too busy to eat or sleep, not to mention see your boyfriend?” He kept his voice level and light, but Beth could feel the dangerous tension bubbling beneath the surface. There just didn’t seem to be much she could do about it—and she couldn’t stop herself from egging him on.

“Not al of us want to spend our lives lying around watching TV and drinking beer,” she snapped, hating herself for it the moment she heard the words slip out of her mouth. “At least Kane cares about something and is wil ing to work hard to get it. How could I say no to that?”

“Fine,” he grunted.

“Fine.” And, after a moment, “we’re starting tomorrow.”

“What?” he yelped. “We’ve got plans for tomorrow!”

“I know,” she said in a gentler voice. “I’m sorry—it’s just, he wanted to get started right away, and he seemed so desperate …”

“You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about! How hard was it to find some time together this weekend, and now you’re just …?” He threw up his arms in disgust.

“Adam, stop.” Beth took his hands in hers and clasped them to his chest. “I’m here, with you, now. Can’t we just enjoy this?” He didn’t respond, but he left his hands in hers, and she felt a gentle pressure squeezing back. Beth looked around—the park was mostly empty, and they were partial y hidden from view by a cluster of decrepit trees.

She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them softly, then released them. He grazed his fingers across her cheekbones and cradled her face.

“How about if we stop talking about Kane for a while?” she suggested, lying back on the quilt and pul ing him down beside her. He stroked her hair, and she breathed in the nearness of him, the familiar scent that somehow evoked both a cozy kitchen of fresh baked bread and the wide expanse of a bright summer morning. “Why don’t we just—”

“Stop talking
at all
for a while?” he finished for her, his hands slipping under her pale pink shirt and massaging her bare skin.

Beth sighed, feeling her tension slip away. It sounded like a plan.