Forbidden Fruit (25 page)

Then she understood. If her family donated the kind of money to A.I.C. that the St. Germaines did, nothing would be happening to her, either. The fact was, Hope St. Germaine wanted her gone, removed from Glory's life. And she had the money to see that her wishes became a reality.

Anger at the inequity of it bloomed inside her. And bitterness. So much for a Christian school. So much for the highest standards of moral behavior.

She looked at Sister in accusation, and the nun shifted uncomfortably under her stare. “I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But you have to understand, I have a school to run. I have to do what I feel is best for the entire student body.”

“Oh, I understand.” Liz stood, trembling. She hiked up her chin. “Money talks and poor folks walk. Is that it?”

“I'll see to it that your permanent record isn't marred. That's the best I can do.”

Liz squeezed her fingers into fists, battling hopeless, angry tears. She had just learned a terrible and costly lesson. A lesson that her father—an uneducated laborer—had already known.

Life wasn't played on an even field. Money meant power, and everything could be bought for a price.

Even a nun's good intentions.

S
antos waited for the St. Charles Hotel's ancient elevator. He slapped Lily's envelope against his palm, wanting to open it, wanting to so badly his fingers itched to do just that, only barely fighting off the urge. He drew his eyebrows together. He needed to know what Lily was sending Hope St. Germaine, he needed to know what the two women's relationship was.

Only then would he know how to proceed.

The elevator arrived, and he stepped onto it. He punched the button for the third floor and slipped the envelope into his pocket. That morning, he had begged Lily to give him the answers he sought; she had refused. Again. Instead, she had said that this was the last time he would have to make a delivery to Hope St. Germaine.

He had found that odd, too. Something about this whole thing had his hackles up. Something about it didn't add up. And he was going to find out what. Today.

And today, maybe, he would tell Hope St. Germaine that he was in love with her daughter. Maybe.

Santos drew deeply through his nose, torn by conflicting feelings. He had promised Glory he would not approach her parents, he had promised to give her a little more time, to wait until after Mardi Gras. But in light of what had occurred between them two nights ago, he felt they couldn't wait. For better or worse, they had taken a major step in their relationship, one that demanded honesty. He and Glory had made a commitment to each other, the time had come to stand up and tell the world that they loved each other.

If Glory really did love him.

The elevator shuddered to a halt. He stepped off, angling past a group waiting to get on. He was one selfish son of a bitch. He wanted to press the issue, have it out in the open so he could dispel his doubts once and for all.

His chest tightened; his palms began to sweat, his heart to thrum. Fear. He recognized the symptoms. He didn't fear Hope St. Germaine, but he did fear her power over Glory.

And as much as he longed for the truth, he feared it, too. Because he feared losing Glory. He loved her so much it hurt.

Santos started down the hall, moving in the direction of Hope St. Germaine's office, a feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He shook it off and squared his shoulders. He had faced much worse than the likes of Hope St. Germaine; and as he had beaten those, he would her.

As always, she was waiting for him. Something about her expression, coldly triumphant, made his skin crawl. He put off the sensation to his complete loathing for her.

She came around the desk. “You have the delivery?”

“Of course.” He took the envelope from his pocket. He held it out, narrowing his eyes with distaste as her fingers accidentally brushed his.

As was her custom, she checked the contents of the envelope, then retrieved another for him to take back to Lily. She handed it to him.

Santos looked at it, his mind whirling with indecision. Should he break his promise to Glory? He thought of the things Glory had told him about her mother, thought of the abuse the woman had subjected her daughter to.

Glory had a right to be afraid. He would respect her fear and her wishes—for now.

“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked, a half smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Again he experienced the sensation of his flesh crawling. He met her eyes evenly anyway. “No. I guess I don't.”

He took the envelope, turned and crossed to the door.

“I know,” she said softly.

Hand on the doorknob, he froze.

She laughed. “That's right, Victor Santos. I know. Everything.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, not completely certain he had understood her correctly. “Excuse me?”

“I know about my daughter's little defiance with you. I am not amused.”

Several different emotions barreled through him: disbelief, surprise, relief. Dread. Heart thundering, Santos dropped his hand and turned back to the woman.

“Don't try to play dumb or deny it, Victor. I have proof.”

He squared his shoulders. “I wouldn't do either of those things. I'm glad you know.”

“Are you?” She arched her eyebrows. “Why? You want to have it out with me?”

“And what if I do?”

She laughed again. The sound slithered along his nerve endings. “Poor boy. She's really done a number on you, hasn't she? But then, I'm not surprised.”

Santos fisted his fingers. He wouldn't ask what that meant, no matter how much he wanted to. If he did, he would be playing right into her hands. “How did you find out?”

“Why, Glory, of course. Eventually, she always tells. She can't seem to help herself. She throws her little tricks and defiances in my face, usually in a fit of pique. Last night was no different.”

Santos felt as if the woman had punched him squarely in the gut. He struggled to keep his feelings from showing. “I don't believe you. Glory and I—”

“
Care
about each other,” she mocked. “
Love
each other maybe?”

He stiffened. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

She shook her head, her expression pitying. “You mean
nothing
to my daughter.
Nothing!
She's just slumming with you. And deep in your gut, you know it too.”

Fury dimmed his fear, making him reckless. In that moment, he realized that without Glory, he had nothing left to lose. Santos took a step toward the woman, the blood thrumming crazily in his head. “That's what you'd like to believe, isn't it? That we don't really love each other. Sorry, Mama, but you lose. And we're going to be together. Forever, whether you're happy about it or not.”

Angry color stained the woman's cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes. “You think so? Poor, delusional boy. You are nothing but a defiance to Glory Alexandra. A way to punish me and her father. For what? Giving her too much? For wanting her to grow up right? Poor little rich girl.” Hope clucked her tongue. “So what does she do? Goes out and gets involved with a
totally
unsuitable boy. The kind of boy she knows we would never allow her to see. She sneaks around like a thief, she lies, she uses her friends to cover for her.

“It's tragic, really. She's always been this way. Reckless and defiant. And completely selfish. She never thinks about who she might hurt with her little games.”

Santos struggled to keep his expression confident. The woman's words cut him to the core—because they were his own, the ones he had said to Glory only months ago, the ones he harbored in his heart.

He pushed the words, and his doubts, away. Glory wasn't like that. He believed in her; he believed in them.

He took a step toward the woman. “You're the one who hurts people. Not Glory. You stand there, thinking you're better than everybody else. Thinking you're so good and righteous.” He shuddered with distaste. “Glory told me about you, about what you did to her. A nailbrush? You make me sick.”

For several moments, Hope said nothing. She looked surprised, shocked; Santos told himself those reactions were not to what Glory had said, but by the fact that she had told him the truth about her mother.

“What has she told you?” Hope asked, her tone dripping pity. “And told you in an attempt, no doubt, to keep you satisfied with the nature of your little fling. Just another maneuver in her game, I'm afraid. A way to keep you from asking too many questions, a way to keep you from insisting on going to us. I'm sure she cried real tears, I'm sure she convinced you I was some sort of monster.”

Santos flinched at her words, though he tried to hide it. He saw by her elated expression that he hadn't been successful.

“She told me the truth,” he insisted doggedly, though his tone lacked conviction, even to himself. “I believe in her.”

Hope narrowed her eyes and took a step toward him. “Do you really think my daughter could love someone like you? Do you really think she would choose someone like you to be with forever?” Santos felt each of the woman's words like a physical blow. “Do you really think I would let my daughter be with a person like you? Please,” she said mockingly. “She's a
St. Germaine.
Who are you? A nobody. Nothing.”

Everything she said mirrored his own thoughts and fears. Everything she said mirrored what he knew of the world, of the haves and have nots. Although it took every ounce of his strength of will, he remained outwardly calm and confident.

Inwardly, his belief in Glory and their relationship was crumbling.

He would die before he would let this arrogant and ugly woman know that.

“It's you who are in for a surprise,” he said softly, evenly and with a confidence he was far from feeling. “Glory and I love each other. We will be together. Just you wait and see.” He turned and started from the room.

“See her again, and I'll have you arrested.”

Santos stopped, the coldly spoken threat resounding in the quiet room. He looked back at her, heart thundering.

“Have you ever heard of statutory rape?” She narrowed her eyes on his. “I see by your reaction that you have, though I can't say I'm surprised.”

“That charge would be a bit difficult, seeing as we've never—”

“Oh, but I have proof that you have,” she interrupted without inflection. “And I'll have your head on a platter.”

He met her gaze as evenly as she met his. “I'd like to see you try.”

“Do you think the police academy will take you then? Charged and convicted of statutory rape? And you will be convicted, Victor Santos. The St. Germaine family is quite powerful.”

He hadn't a doubt about the St. Germaine power. He had seen such power at work before, many times. “Say what you want, Glory would never—”

“Glory will do whatever I say, whatever her father says. Despite her little defiances, she's very much a St. Germaine. It's to us she gives her allegiance. Her family. Don't ever forget that.”

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Not even goodbye? Go to hell, maybe?”

Santos turned and crossed to the door.

“That's right,” she called after him, “go back to your dirty whore. Ask
her
about me. Then ask her if you're good enough for Glory.”

Santos swung back to the woman. “What did you just say? Repeat it.”

“Which part?” She laughed. “The part about Lily being a dirty whore? Or the one about you not being good enough for Glory? And you're not, you know. You're as low, as dirty, as the whore you live with.”

He flexed his fingers, furious. He could kill her now, happily, with his bare hands. He had never hated as he did at this moment, never with such depth and fire. He now understood something of the human condition that he hadn't before, something of the extremes one could go in anger.

He strode to where Hope St. Germaine stood, stopping mere inches from her. He met her eyes.

“Say what you want about me,” Santos said softly but with an edge of steel, “but never speak ill of Lily again. If you do, you'll regret it. I promise, I'll make you regret it.”

G
lory waited at the locker she and Liz shared. She frowned and checked her watch for the third time.
Twelve-twenty.
Where was Liz? She had waited here for her friend after second period, then again after third. She could explain away those no-shows; the ten-minute break between class didn't leave much time if you had to run an errand for one of the teachers—a frequent occurrence for Liz—or if you had to visit the bathroom. But missing lunch?

Glory glanced up, then down, the hall, her frown deepening. This wasn't like Liz, not at all. Her friend was almost compulsively punctual. Usually, it was Glory who was late, Glory who had to be waited for or hurried.

So, where was she?

A girl Glory recognized as being in Liz's third-period class strolled by, chatting with another girl. Glory hurried after her.

“Pam,” she called. “Wait.”

The girl stopped and turned. “Hey, Glory. What's up?”

“Have you seen Liz?”

“Liz Sweeney?” When Glory nodded, the girl shook her head. “Haven't seen her. She wasn't in class.”

Glory thanked the other girl and returned to the locker. Something wasn't right. Something had happened.

Her mother had found them out.

Even as her heart began to thud uncomfortably against the wall of her chest, she called herself a fool. If her mother had found her and Santos out, Glory would have been the first to hear about it. Not Liz.

No, her friend had probably gone home sick. Or maybe one of her brothers or sisters had taken ill and Liz had been called home to help her mother.

It had happened before.
Sure it had.

Glory shut the locker and started for the office. She would simply ask, and if Liz had gone home sick, she would give her a call and see how she was doing.

Moments later, she stepped into the office area. The secretary sat at her desk, eating yogurt.

“Hi, Mrs. Anderson.”

The woman looked up. A strange expression crossed her face. “Hello, Glory. What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for Liz Sweeney. Have you seen her?”

The woman's cheeks turned bright red. “Not since this morning.”

Glory frowned. “Did she go home sick or something?”

“Well, I—” The woman coughed, took a sip of her Diet Coke, then coughed again. “I don't think—”

Sister Marguerite's door opened. “Joyce, could you get me…” The principal's words trailed off as she saw Glory. “Hello, Glory. What can we do for you?”

“Hello, Sister.” Glory hugged her books to her chest. “I'm looking for Liz Sweeney. Did she go home sick?”

The principal frowned. “Aren't you supposed to be at lunch now?”

“Yes, Sister, but—”

“I suggest you go. Nothing here concerns you.”

Panic took Glory's breath. “What do you mean? Where's Liz? Is she all right? Why wasn't she in class?”

The principal made a sound of annoyance. “I suppose you'll hear soon enough. Elizabeth Sweeney will not be returning to the academy. Now, I suggest you—”

“What do you mean, ‘she won't be returning to the academy'?” Glory took an involuntary step backward, feeling as if the rug had been pulled out from under her. “Why not?” Glory heard the note of hysteria in her voice, but couldn't quell it. “I don't understand.”

“You don't have to. As I said before, this is no concern of yours. Now, if you don't return to the cafeteria, I'll be forced to put you in detention and call your mother.”

Liz had been expelled.
Glory brought a shaking hand to her mouth. Why? What had her friend done?

Besides help her?

Heart in her throat, Glory turned and ran from the office. But instead of turning toward the cafeteria, as Sister had instructed her to do, she ran for the main entrance.

Sister Marguerite called out behind her; Glory didn't even hesitate. She had to see Liz. She had to make sure her friend was all right. She had to know what had happened.

Her mother. Dear God, let it not be that.

What else could it be?

She reached her car, unlocked it and slid behind the wheel. Only then did she glance behind her, half expecting to see an army of nuns, habits and rosaries flying behind them as they chased her. The parking lot was deserted. Not even Sister Marguerite or Mrs. Anderson followed.

Glory started the car, roared out of her parking space, then the lot. She darted into traffic, earning the blare of several horns.

Glory knew how much this scholarship had meant to Liz. She would be devastated.

Glory squeezed the steering wheel, fighting hysteria and a feeling of being totally lost. Totally alone.
Her best friend.
What would she do without her?

Glory broke every speed limit in her haste to reach Liz's house, and made it there in record time. She had only been inside the building twice before; usually, she picked Liz up at the curb out front. Liz's father didn't like her and had made no secret of it. Glory didn't care for him, either, so having a reason to stay away had been a relief.

She climbed out of the car, raced across the sidewalk, then into the building and up the sagging central staircase. Liz's family occupied half the top floor of the old four-plex. As she neared their front door, she heard the sound of fighting. Liz's mother and father, she realized, cringing at the sound of the raised, angry voices. She heard her name. And Liz's. Heard weeping. Glory took a deep breath and knocked.

The fighting ceased momentarily; the door creaked open. Through the crack, Glory saw her friend's tear-streaked face. Her heart turned over. “It's me,” Glory whispered.

Liz slipped out, shutting the door behind her. They hugged, holding tightly to each other. When they parted, Glory searched her friend's devastated expression. Liz's eyes were red and puffy from crying, a bright red mark marred her left cheek.

Liz's father had hit her.

A lump formed in her throat, and Glory gathered her friend's hands in her own. “When you didn't show for lunch, I went to the office, and Sister Marguerite said you'd been expelled. I couldn't believe it. What happened?”

“It was so awful.” Liz started to cry and Glory put her arms around her. “What am I going to do? I've never seen my father so angry. And Mama's hysterical. I don't want to go back to my old school, Glory.”

Glory started to cry, too. “How could they expel you? You have the best grades in the whole sophomore class.”

Liz drew away, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “You don't know?”

“No.” Glory searched her friend's gaze, heart thundering. “Sister told me it was none of my concern.”

“None of your concern?” Liz made a sound that was part laugh, part sob. “Your mother did it. I was called out of second period, and she was waiting for me.”

“My mother?” Glory repeated, feeling the words like a punch to her gut. “My mother was there?”

“It was awful. Just awful.” Liz brought her hands to her face. “She knows, Glo. She knows everything.”

Glory stared at her friend, a numb sensation moving slowly over her, starting at the top of her head and inching downward.

Her mother knew.
Glory took an involuntary step backward.
Dear God, what was she going to do?

Liz brushed at her tears. “She knows everything. About Santos, the masquerade ball, me covering for you. And not just covering for you that night, but lots of others. That's why I was expelled.” Liz drew in a shuddering breath. “Sister wanted to give me another chance, but your mother wouldn't let her.”

Her mother knew.
Glory began to shake. Her knees gave and she sank to one of the stairs.
Her mother would see to it that she never saw Santos again.

“Glory, did you hear me?” Liz squatted beside her. “It's your mother's fault. She had me expelled.”

“How did she act?” Glory caught her friend's hands once more, her own trembling. “What did she say about Santos?”

“About Santos?” Liz repeated, her voice sounding strange, high and tinny.

“Yes. Did she say anything about him? Did she say what she was going to do about us? How did she know his name?”

Liz shook her head. “I don't know. But I told her that Santos was a good guy. I told her how much you two loved each other, but she wouldn't listen. She called him…terrible names. She called me names, too, Glo. She called me a liar and—”

“I'm so scared, Liz.” Glory brought a hand to her mouth. “She's going to break me and Santos up. She's going to see to it that we never see each other again. She told me she would send me away if—”

“What are you talking about?” Liz made a choked sound. “You told me she wouldn't take it out on me, Glo. But she did. If she found out, you said she wouldn't hurt me. I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen.”

Glory blinked, focusing on Liz, on what she was saying, once more. “What?”

“You said she wouldn't blame me, but she did, Glory. She even blamed me for you guys, you know…doing it. I told her I didn't know, but she didn't believe me.”

“Oh, my God.” Glory's world crashed in around her ears. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't think.
Her mother was going to send her away.
She clasped her hands in front of her, squeezing them together so tightly they went numb, and rocked back and forth on the stair. “She knows about that? About what me and Santos did the other night?”

“I thought she knew.” Liz shuddered. “By what she was saying, I thought they both knew.”

“You told her?” Glory gazed at her friend, horrified. “How could you?”

“How could I?” Liz repeated, bright spots of color blooming in her cheeks. “You weren't in there, you don't know what it was like! You don't know how they—”

“I know
I
wouldn't have told that on you. Not that, not ever.”

“Thanks a lot!” Liz jumped to her feet. “What do you know about anything? I was just expelled from school. I just lost my scholarship. And all you care about is your precious boyfriend!”

“That's not true! I do care about you, Liz. You're my best friend.” Glory followed her friend to her feet. “It's just that you don't know what my mother's capable of. You don't know what she can do.”

“Don't I? She had me expelled today for doing nothing more than being your friend. You're the one who did the deed, and you weren't even called to the office. You were told it was
none of your concern.
” Her voice caught on a sob. “My father was right about all you richies. This is all your fault. I hate you!”

She turned and started for her front door. Glory caught her arm, trying to stop her. “Don't say that, Liz. Please…You've got to understand.”

“I do understand.” Liz shook off her hand. “I was never your friend. You used me.”

“No. That's not true!” Glory shook her head. “Don't you see? It's her. She's doing it again, taking away everything that means anything to me. You, Santos. She does this, it's why I didn't want her to know about Santos. It's why I was afraid—”

“I can't believe this! We're still talking about you!” Liz curled her hands into fists. “You're just like Bebe and Missy and all the rest, aren't you? Selfish. Self-centered. You don't care about anybody but yourself. I was so stupid, I thought you were my friend.”

Glory wrapped her arms around her middle, hurting so badly she thought she might be sick. “I am your friend, Liz. You've got to believe me.”

“You don't know the meaning of the word. You used me. I was convenient. I was the only one dumb enough to—”

Liz bit back the words, turned and crossed to her door. There, she looked back at Glory. “I lost everything. My chance at a great college, my chance at a way out of living like…this. Do you know what the public schools in this Parish are like? Of course not. How could you, Little-Rich-Girl? A.I.C. was my big chance.”

“Please, Liz,” Glory whispered, tears welling, then spilling down her cheeks. “Don't do this. You're my best friend.”

“And I thought you were mine. Goodbye, Glory.”