Hurricane Days (12 page)

I thought a moment. My first impulse was to say no. A “get-together” with her could only lead to a raid later by campus police. I was sure of it.

There was a knock on the door. Adrienne opened it and let in this girl I’d seen sometimes hanging around the student union. She was a human Barbie with hair that was sprayed up and teased out like an exotic plant. And the way she dressed…a good wind could blow off her flimsy tank top. Maybe that’s what she wanted to happen.

I stared at her with obvious disdain before reminding myself to be polite.

“Hi,” the girl said, popping her gum.

“Hi,” Adrienne responded. “Uh, Nancy, this is Robin.”

“Robin?” Nancy repeated. “Like the bird?”

“Yeah, like the bird.” I’d never had to explain my name before.

I could tell instantly that Nancy didn’t really care if I was there or not. She was more interested in Adrienne’s cigarette pack. “Oh,” she said. “Can I bum a few? I’m all out.”

“You’re always out,” Adrienne complained, handing her the pack and lighting one for her. They had a familiarity with each other. Nancy must’ve been among the party crowd that Adrienne sometimes talked about. I didn’t like her.

Then
he
arrived. This had to be the famous Sean Voight
.
Adrienne had mentioned him a few times in a giddy sort of way. So I knew he meant something to her. I instinctively disliked him even more than Nancy.

“Hey.” Sean came into the room with a kind of redneck peacock shuffle.

“Hey,” Adrienne replied with great interest. “Sean, Robin. Robin, Sean.” It seemed important to her that we meet. I didn’t know why.

“Hi,” I said politely. I examined him like a specimen under a microscope, trying to identify any possible reason why this boy held such a fascination for her. He sported tattoos and ambiguous facial hair on his chin. The hair on his head was long and greasy brown. There was nothing special about him as far as I could see.

Adrienne turned to me and said, “They’re gonna hang with us tonight.”

“Uh,” I stammered, desperate for a way to escape. “You know, I have to get to the library tonight. A lot of studying.” I shrugged apologetically.

“You sure?” Adrienne looked disappointed. “It’ll be fun.”

Nancy popped her gum again.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Maybe some other time. Nice to meet y’all.” With that, I hastily grabbed my books, stuffed them into my backpack and left.

Chapter Twenty

The library, illuminated with lights, looked like the Emerald City from the darkness outside. In spite of the heavy air choking me, I walked into the building with a sense of purpose and rising excitement. After meeting Sean and seeing how enamored Adrienne was with him and probably with boys in general, I’d decided to confront the strange feelings I’d been having. They went back farther than I was willing to admit. Back to high school, in fact. That was when I found
Curious Wine.

I had been shopping at a nearby mall, and, after a long day of trying to find enough decent clothes to balance out the unfortunate wardrobe that Granny Inez had been building for me, I wandered into a bookstore and browsed my way into the section labeled “Gay and Lesbian.” There I picked up a book called
Curious Wine
by someone named Katherine Forrest. The blurb on the back said it was about two women who fall in love at Lake Tahoe. After glancing around the store to make sure no one I knew was there, I rushed up to the counter, head down, and quickly purchased it.

When I got home, I stuffed the book underneath my mattress. I couldn’t wait until after dinner to go upstairs and read it. And I did. In one night. I stayed up so late I could barely keep my eyes open the next day in school. But it was worth it. I spent the day dreaming about the two women in the cabin and what it was like for them…something about the story really drew me in. That sensual scene in the upstairs bedroom…it was quite a departure from my nightly
Bible
readings growing up. One night I was in the world of Corinthians, and the next minute, enjoying some perverse, delicious encounter at Lake Tahoe—and Tahoe was starting to look better and better. Another reason I worried that I was going to hell.

I couldn’t fathom something like the scenes in Lake Tahoe ever happening to me. None of the girls I’d seen who called themselves lesbians seemed to be anything like me. The girl in the dorm who spooked Adrienne—she seemed nice, but she dressed like my brother. I couldn’t relate to what I thought a lesbian had to be. It was all so confusing, this strange world of women who intrigued and scared me at the same time.

I reread
Curious Wine
off and on for the rest of the school year. I knew I couldn’t take it to college with me in case my roommate saw it and got the wrong idea. And I couldn’t leave it at home in case my parents found it and got the wrong idea. So as much as it saddened me, I threw it out in a Dumpster downtown, far away from school or any place where it could be traced back to me. I felt like some sort of criminal.

It was time to read it again. In the library I went to the Gay and Lesbian section in the stacks and searched for
Curious Wine
. Sure enough, there it was. It had become one of the most popular books in the genre, so it was no surprise to see it there. I pulled it out and sauntered over to the Psychology section to peruse it. I was a cliché, standing there reading lesbian literature in a section devoted to Freud and his “poor women without penises” books.

I opened the book to the place where I knew I’d find my favorite scene. I was so excited to read it again that tears welled up in my eyes. I scanned the pages hurriedly, with a certain paranoia, as if the lesbian police were going to storm in at any moment and announce to the world that I was one of them. I’d then be taken to an undisclosed location where I’d be forced to play softball and wear corduroy, both of which I wasn’t particularly excited about—further proof I couldn’t be a lesbian!

“Hi.” The voice startled me out of my skin. I spun around to find Andrew Bennington, dressed in bright yellow spandex shorts and a white tank top. He was definitely proud of his bare, fuzzy skin.

“Oh, hi,” I said, with some relief. I remembered him, but he misinterpreted the blank face I gave him as I tried to gather my composure.

“I’m in your Film Production?”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “The
laugh
.”

He sighed dramatically. “I get so much grief for that. It’s genetic.” He was so full of life and himself that he hadn’t noticed at first what I’d been reading. Now a passing glance at my book stopped him. “Ooh, I hear that’s a good book. My best friend Sara loves it.”

Involuntarily, I snapped it shut. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, look, sorry to bother you.” His hands were very expressive as he spoke, like he was playing a game of charades. “I was wondering if I could ask you a huge favor.”

“Sure.”

Though he sounded like he was going to ask me to give him a kidney, he only wanted to borrow some of my notes. “You look like you take great notes.”

“Oh?” I replied absently. “Looks can be deceiving.” I smiled and handed him my notebook.

Andrew dropped it and bent over to retrieve it, pushing his backside into my face. “Whoa,” I laughed. “Way more of you than I want to see!”

“Ahh! You’re so funny!” He stood up and slapped my arm. Something about him seemed to me like an old friend. “I haven’t mastered the f-stop thing. Everything is coming out blurry.”

“I know what you mean.”

“It’s pretty confusing,” he continued. “I don’t know. And the teacher hates my guts.”

“He hates everyone’s guts.”

“Ahh!” Andrew’s laugh drew some attention in the library. I was a little embarrassed. I looked around, over my shoulder. Then Andrew held up my notebook. He cleared his throat and said softly, “Thanks for this. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.” He winked at me and walked away.

Relieved at his departure, I exhaled and turned back to the Psychology section, where I shoved a few more “secret” books for later reading. If workers at the library weren’t too conscientious, the books would still be there tomorrow.

All was quiet and still, as I walked back to the dorm. Regal palm trees against a moonlit sky appeared like postcards I’d seen in tourist shops. It was a sharp contrast to the scene I witnessed when I got back to the dorm room. The aftermath of the party reminded me of what a nuclear holocaust might bring—corpselike bodies lying in weird positions across the floor, the rank odor of warm Budweiser swirling up my nose, a Marlboro fog still hovering in the air and towers of beer cans rising up like monsters out of the trash can and teetering dangerously.

Adrienne and Sean, the redneck peacock, were entwined on Adrienne’s bed with their clothes on. My dislike of Sean intensified. It was not intellectual; it came from a place deep in my gut. The sight of them together was like a hard punch to my stomach. I winced at the filled ashtray on my nightstand. With a sleeping body blocking my closet door, I gingerly climbed into my own bed with my clothes on.

* * *

The next morning, a half-asleep Adrienne frowned at herself in the mirror as I fixed my makeup.

“What time is it?” she asked. Her mascara had smeared into her hair, her eyes were pink and unfocused. To me, she still looked beautiful.

“Eight thirty,” I said. “The bodies rose from the dead about an hour ago and left, thank God.”

She shuddered. “Could you…just…shhh?”

I leaned into her ear and shouted, “Hung over?”

“Bitch.” Adrienne pushed me away and opened her closet, staring at her clothes disdainfully.

“What was that? It looked like Armageddon when I came in last night.”

“I told that fucker he wasn’t sleeping over,” she grumbled, pulling out a pair of jeans.

“Who?”

“Sean.”

“Oh, the one who was sleeping with you?”

“We didn’t sleep together,” she snapped defensively. “We had a fight. I told him to leave. But he was too wasted to go anywhere.”

“You don’t owe me any explanation.”

“No, it’s cool. I just wanted you to know what happened.” She smiled faintly at me before disappearing to the showers.

Chapter Twenty-One

Security at the governor’s mansion that night was the tightest it had ever been, as everyone awaited Adrienne’s arrival.

Robin waited in the library. She sat rigidly in her favorite high-back leather chair, unable to relax, knowing that the one person who could unravel her carefully crafted persona, not to mention all her future plans, would soon be there. Vaguely aware of the occasional pop and crackle from the glowing fireplace, a necessity in the drafty mansion, she settled back into the leather cushion cradling her head and remembered a time when nothing else had mattered but Adrienne’s impression of her.

Why had she been so drawn to the most dangerous person she could have met? She’d never know the answer, only that Adrienne was the one she had always longed for in the hidden recesses of her mind, in places she’d never share with anyone, especially not her husband. She could hardly even share it with herself!

Peter lingered in the doorway. “Governor? If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.”

How comforting
, she thought sarcastically.

She heard the front door close. Moments later she saw Tom passing in front of the archway that led to the library. He was just getting back from work. He nodded to Peter, pushed past him and entered the library, closing the door behind him. “You really think this is a good idea?” he asked.

“Word certainly gets around.” She rose from the chair. “You’re home late.”

“A lot of work at the office.” He poured himself a brandy. She noticed how the amber liquid rippled in the light. It was actually kind of pretty. Sometimes she could find beauty in unusual things, at the oddest moments. Here she was, balanced on a tightrope between her career and the reemerging desire that had haunted her all these years. She knew she could just as easily fall off into oblivion as to make it safely to one side or the other. And yet here she was, pondering her husband’s drink and attempting small talk.

“Security out front,” Tom said. “They told me you’re meeting her
here
?”

She nodded. “That’s correct.”

“You know the place is going to be swarming with the media.”

“Peter assures me the second car is taking a more circuitous route, to avoid being tailed. We’re taking every precaution we can to keep this discreet.”

“Discreet?” He laughed. He gulped the rest of his drink. “Be careful. Her only motivation is to bring you down.”

Robin nodded, but she wasn’t really listening.

He smiled bitterly to himself. “I’m going to go up and check on Ken, see if she needs help with her homework.” In quick strides he made it to the door, then paused, turning around. “She
is
pretty.” With a slight, knowing smile, he turned the knob to leave.

“Tom…” She watched the door close behind him.

Going to the flat screen, she switched it on and saw what Tom must have seen. A still shot of her face upon seeing Adrienne in the Atlanta crowd was being splashed all over the news. Ann DeMarco, looking stern with her slicked-back, auburn hair and black-rimmed glasses, was commenting on it.

“Clearly, Governor Sanders did share a room with Adrienne Austen in college,” Ann said, “although it still remains unclear whether or not they had more than a friendship.”

On CNN, Jay Savage was interviewing one of Robin’s opponents in the Republican primary, Jerry Johnson. He too was from Georgia and liked to talk about his days as an SEC coach.

“I just think the whole thing’s distasteful,” Johnson said, scrunching up his face. He had at least a pound of pancake makeup on and his pepper hair had been sprayed so much it wouldn’t have moved in a tornado.

“Do you think this rumor that keeps dogging the governor will have a negative impact on her campaign?” Savage asked.

“I’m not a betting man,” Johnson responded. “But…”

“They say her poll numbers are still quite strong.”