Incriminated (5 page)

Lucy had just settled down to catch up on some episodes of her favorite TV show,
Grey's Anatomy
, and was secretly glad when her housemates had all gone to their rooms for the night so she had the entire couch to herself. Just as she was getting comfortable the doorbell rang.

Lucy visibly slumped with shock when she opened the door. A wave of cinnamon-scented air wafted past her nose. Nicotine chewing gum. The scent took Lucy right back to those first weeks at rehab, going cold turkey, getting rid of all the stimulants on which her body had come to rely. Lucy froze. Her old rehab buddy from Claremont, Ariana, was leaning in to hug her.

“Dear Lord, thank goodness I found you home! I've been fretting that you'd be out with your friends.”

Before Lucy could move away, the skinny redhead had wrapped her arms around her shoulders and was squeezing tight, rocking slightly. “Sure—I should have called. But some creeper stole my cell when I was asleep on the bus. I
need a bed for the night. You gonna help me out, Lucy?”

Lucy counted to ten and then gently disentangled herself from Ariana. She stood back to get a good look, or maybe to check that the sinking feeling in her chest wasn't the result of some stupid dream. In front of her stood a petite white girl, slim and with dyed-red hair that reached her shoulders, dressed in tight white jeggings, a yellow sleeveless T-shirt, and a faded denim jacket. On her feet she wore a pair of scuffed red Keds. Gold bangles, hoop earrings, and a silver belt jazzed up the outfit, but made her look several years older than her almost nineteen years, like a woman in her late twenties trying too hard.

“Hope you don't mind me showin' up out of the blue? You don't look too happy! Lucy Long, I sure have missed your moody self.”

In a daze, Lucy showed Ariana into the house and took the shoulder bag from her as Ariana wheeled in a carry-on suitcase. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief that no other housemate was downstairs to witness Ariana's arrival. Lucy's mind was already rifling through possible ways to get rid of Ariana.

Ariana looked slightly sweaty, hair mussed, disheveled from the bus journey. Lucy watched her old friend drop onto the gray three-seater sofa. Ariana scowled, then pulled a discarded copy of
Variety
out
from beneath her. Lucy went and got a glass of ice water for Ariana, who sipped at it gratefully.

Stumbling for an easy conversation opener, Lucy said,
“You came on the Pomona bus?”

“Two changes after Union Station,” confirmed Ariana, fanning herself with the magazine. She already looked irritated, as though Lucy's questions were some silly barrier against which she had to battle constantly. “It wasn't easy to show up here unannounced. But I figured, you know, I had to do it. I couldn't stay in Claremont another day. I needed my best girl, Lucy. If you'd said no, that you were busy or something, I wouldn't have gotten onto the bus. That's it. I'd still be in Claremont now, already thinking about getting some blow.”

Lucy froze. She fixed Ariana with a stony glare, and then exhaled slowly, unable to speak for several seconds. “Cocaine? That's what you're into now? Ari, jeez!”

Ariana's reply was wheedling, pitiful. “At least it isn't crystal, right? Or H?”

Dismissively, Lucy said, “I'm no angel. I admit it—I've started smoking weed again, too.” Her voice rose, suddenly imploring. “But Ari. You gotta stay off the hard drugs! Is that what you're spending all your money on? Is that why you can't afford a taxi or a place to stay?”

Ariana's face became serious. “You always could see through me. I'll be straight with you, Lucy. I've racked up a little debt again. Not too much,” she said quickly, raising both hands as Lucy's expression of forced compassion turned into a frown. “But I needed to get out of there quick, break the habit, go somewhere totally different, be around someone I know can help me.”

“So you came to me,” Lucy said, struggling to keep the sourness out of her tone.

A beam spread across Ariana's face. “You never once let me down, hon.”

Then she was hugging Lucy again. Over the girl's shoulder, Lucy gritted her teeth. There had to be some non-mean way out of this. As annoying as Ariana could be, she'd been a solid friend through the worst months of Lucy's life, and shown her nothing but steadfast devotion since.

Lucy cleared her throat as she pulled away as gently as possible. “How long you, ah, thinking of staying here?”

Ariana's seraphic smile reappeared. “Could I? It'd just be a couple of nights.”

“Really?”

“A week at most.”

Lucy plucked at her lower lip. “We don't have any spare beds.”

Ariana glanced around the living room and tipped a finger in the direction of the green futon. “Isn't that one of those sofa beds?”

Lucy tried to smile. “It's just that, you know, the house is already kind of crowded. Six of us sharing two bathrooms. It gets kind of crazy on school mornings.”

“Then I guess it's good that school is almost out. Look, let me help. I'll cook y'all some breakfast, and I won't shower until y'all are gone. I can take care of you a little, hon. Let me do that? C'mon, all this living on your own, you gotta be missing your family just a teeny bit, right?”

Shaking her head firmly, Lucy said, “Not even. I'm exactly where I want to be.”

“But you're using again?” Ariana said with a little pout that Lucy could tell was entirely fake.

“Alcohol, tobacco, a little weed on special occasions. It's no biggie, Ari. I'm like a regular person now; I don't go crazy.”

“But you're not a regular person, are you, honey?” Ariana said very gently. “You're an addict. Just like me. There's no middle ground for people like us.”

Lucy didn't reply, but felt anger burn through her eyes. Ariana was right.
An addict is an addict.
But the illusion of being a normal teenager with a chemical hobby was way better.

“Listen, I'm three days clean, Lucy. But it's not easy. I knew if I stayed in Claremont, I'd fall right back off over the weekend. God knows I've tried enough times. So okay, I admit it, I didn't think about it too much, I just packed a bag and headed for the bus. Please don't let me down. If I can just get through the next week with a good friend by my side . . .”

Slowly, Lucy blinked. She could feel her resolve cracking. The other housemates were going to kill her.

“Okay. I guess. Just a few days, and you be sure to keep your stuff all neat. This is a pretty chill place, but things get nasty when people don't clean up.”

Ariana shook her head fervently. “Oh, that's me all the
way, Lucy. You remember our room in rehab, right? Didn't I keep it nice?”

“Yeah, true. Between the two of us, I was the slob,” Lucy said as a reluctant grin spread to her lips.

Memories of their time in rehab returned. It hadn't all been bad. The environment had been pretty relaxing: ashram vibes, dreamy music, and the odor of lemongrass everywhere. They'd donned white, waffled-cotton robes and slippers every morning before heading to the sun-drizzled breakfast room in which a dozen bleary-eyed, rich junkies would enjoy mint verbena tea with wheat toast and apricot jam made from fruit grown in the center's own orchard.

Even more impressive for someone of such modest means as Ariana, although from what Lucy understood, her people were recently impoverished. They still rattled around in some dilapidated old house in the Louisiana swamp, at the center of what had long ago been a small sugar plantation.

Lucy had often wondered where the money had come from to pay for Ariana's stay at the rather exclusive rehab center. She'd guessed that the girl had a rich aunt or something; someone who might occasionally be leaned on for a favor, but who wouldn't go as far as regular support.

“You were a slob, messing up a nice place like that,” Ariana chided. “But I didn't let you get away with it, did I?”

“Guess you didn't,” said Lucy, trying to smile despite
the vague sense of unease she felt at letting Ariana stay. She should really ask the others first. Still, Ariana was a rehab buddy. That was a tight relationship. You didn't even really need to like your rehab buddy, but if it came to a matter of support over the addiction, you had to have each other's back.

Ariana patted the space beside her on the sofa. “C'mon, girl, sit awhile. We need to get caught up. What's it been since we really talked—five, six weeks? What's going on with you and that tennis player, Mr. Disney Channel? Anything ever happen there?”

“Paolo? You could say that.”

Ariana smiled wickedly. “Ah, it's like that, is it? You lose your cherry yet?”

Lucy sat beside Ariana, and slapped her sharply on the arm, hard enough to make her yelp with surprise. “Ugh, please. Like I would ever go for him.”

Ariana laughed, rubbing her arm. “Ooh—I touched a nerve.”

Lucy shrugged. “Maybe. Truth is, we almost hooked up. But I changed my mind.”

“Did he get mad?”

“No, actually he was kind of a gentleman about it.”

“That surprise you?”

Lucy shook her head. “Not really. But maybe he's angrier than I thought. We were gonna talk yesterday and he avoided me the whole day. Today, too.”

Ariana wrapped both arms around Lucy, slow and
deliberate. Lucy kept still, but the gesture wasn't welcome. “Ari's here now, honey,” she murmured, her breath warm on Lucy's neck. “We can be there for each other. Just like old times.”

Lucy began to count down in her head. She'd forgotten how clingy Ariana could be. Having her around was going to be sheer claustrophobia.

The air-conditioning in the school library wasn't working. Miss Topalian, the librarian, had opened the French doors to the patio outside. Somewhere in the yard, an argument was rumbling along. Maya could hear the raised voices of moody teenage girls and, despite the fresh air, she was sweating lightly under the tight polyester blend of her school uniform. Under the desk, she kicked off her shoes. For once, she was glad she was wearing a skirt.

She peered hard at the computer screen. Another bug. Her new program code was full of them. Each report she ordered found at least one. She sighed quietly. Was there no end to this?

Maya's idea for the Cheetr
app had seemed so blindingly simple that she couldn't believe it hadn't been done before. The first version had been a thing of elegant simplicity, and had worked after only a week of debugging. That was the first time she'd seriously looked at what
else
was out there that was anything like Cheetr. Turned out to be quite a lot—people obviously loved to download free game cheats to their smartphones.

Cheetr was okay, but it was going to have to get a lot more amazing if it was going to stand out from the crowd. It was being downloaded plenty, but not enough to make more than a hundred bucks a month in advertising revenue. It wasn't even just about the money: the truth was, since Maya had found out how many similar apps were out there, her interest had waned.

Who really wanted to be nothing more than a
wannabe
? Original ideas were elusive, that was for sure. But originality was well worth the extra effort.

Maya's cell phone buzzed.

WHERE IS THE LATEST REPORT?

Yet another message from her mom about her employer, Dana Alexander.

Of all the people her mother had to work for, why did it have to be Alexander? Maya felt like putting a curse on that British movie star for soaking up so much of her time and attention.

Maya had to get her mind off her family troubles and onto her work.

It wasn't easy, though. Maya's mother was terrified that Alexander would reveal their family's secret and she would be deported. If that happened, Maya knew her
mom would insist on taking her along, too. Not all parents were so ready to let their kids be emancipated—Maya's least of all.

That fear had driven Maya for long enough. Spying on her friends was no longer an option. Lying, concealing. What was the point of doing something that made your everyday existence a misery?

Being sent to live in Mexico City didn't frighten Maya as much as it once did. Now that she'd figured out why Dana Alexander wanted her to spy on the house, she was more scared of what Dana might do to keep her own secret safe.

From what Maya had pieced together, it seemed Alexander had attended the infamous Hollywood party where movie star Tyson Drew was murdered eight years ago. A drunken brawl between Grace's father, Alex Vesper, and the murder victim had taken place earlier in the evening. Combined with Vesper being the only party guest with no alibi, it had been enough to convict Grace's dad. Now Grace's father was on death row for the crime, but maybe the wrong person had taken the blame?

Lucy was at the party, too, back when she was a child star. The fact that Alexander was going to so much trouble to keep tabs on Lucy and everyone associated with her made Maya wonder if Lucy had seen someone else with Tyson Drew at the party that night. Someone Dana hoped she'd keep quiet about.

Did Lucy know something that proved Dana Alexander was the real killer?

Dana Alexander; Grace's father, Alex Vesper; and Lucy. A triangle of deceit connected them. Maya was acutely aware that amongst the housemates, she alone had access to all three points of the triangle. She alone could fit the facts together. And now Maya was scared enough to make a crucial decision.

She was done with helping
la inglesa
. Sure, she'd file the reports. But from now on they'd mislead and distract.

I'm not your slave anymore, Dana—I won't betray my friends.

Arriving at that decision had felt like a release. No more sneaking around or spying on those closest to her. It had unlocked Maya's creativity. Since then Maya had dreamed up a truly
immense
(as her tutor from England, Jack, might put it) new app—Promisr. A social app for matching favors—a promise for a promise, the barter economy.

Maya hadn't dared to show the whole app to anyone yet. They might hate it. But worse still—a lot worse—another coder might steal the idea. For now, it was Maya's secret. Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning when lines of code danced before her eyes, even when she was trying to sleep, it felt a little like her own personal hell.

It didn't take long to locate the bug in the code. When she did, Maya cursed, quietly and vehemently, in Spanish. Another unbelievably dumb mistake. A five-year-old child wouldn't make that mistake.

Maya corrected the code, recompiled the program, and started the tedious process of reloading it on the iPhone emulator.

Dyslexia
. It slowed everything down. At least Jack was managing to tackle some of the academic weaknesses that arose from the sheer lack of time she had to devote to math and chemistry.

The first lesson with Jack had gone amazingly well. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since that day on the boardwalk when he'd laid bare the mysteries of
molarity
. She was also surprised that some of what he was teaching her was beginning to sink in.

“It's incredible,” she'd marveled, minutes after solving a particularly fiendish problem. “Why don't they teach us this way at school?”

“No idea. It's how I was taught.”

She'd released a huge sigh. “Thank you. Jeez, now I'm worried that I won't be able to do this when you're not here.”

“In that case, you'd better try problems seven and nine,” he'd told her with a wry grin. “They're even tougher. If you solve those, you'll be unstoppable.”

“Should I email the answers to you?”

“Sure.” He'd written his email address on a piece of paper, torn it off, and handed it to her. To her surprise, Maya had experienced the tiniest frisson as she took the address. There was something strangely intimate in knowing they had a way to communicate now, any time of the
day or night. She'd never felt this way about getting anyone else's email.

In the school library, waiting for her code to compile, Maya took out her phone, looked up Jack's contact details, and began composing an email.

Hey Jack, I may not get around to sending you the latest chem problems for a few more days. Kinda distracted with my app. I'm getting all kinds of suggestions from the Cheetr users.

The return email arrived with the speed of an instant message.

You wrote an app? Seriously, wow.

Maya giggled loud enough to catch Miss Topalian's eye. “Hey over there,” she called out. “I hope there's nothing inappropriate going on.”

“I know,” Maya agreed. “Like I need the distraction, right?”

“I hear it's all hands on deck with you,” Miss Topalian said, waving a hand vaguely as she returned her attention to her own computer screen. “No talking in the library,” she said to no one in particular.

Maya's phone lit up again as another email arrived from Jack.

How many downloads?

She typed back
,
Cheetr? A few thousand.

Amazing. So what's next?

Maya hesitated. Her latest idea was too new to talk about it, but Jack hadn't said he was a coder. She was dying to tell someone about it, at least the basic concept.

I'm working on something new. More of a social app.

Sounds like a plan. Social is definitely where it's at. What does the app do?

I'm still working on the alpha version . . . prefer not to discuss details yet.

This time there was a longer delay before his emailed reply arrived.

Not a problem. Totally get where you're coming from. It's just that I was wondering what you're doing about investment.

. . . Investment . . . ?

Have you thought about getting together with a business
angel? Some guy in the know, connected and suchlike, who'll bung in a bit of cash to get you to the next level.

Maya was in the middle of composing a reply when the phone began to buzz. It was Jack.

“Take it outside,” Miss Topalian said the moment that Maya opened her mouth to reply. The librarian pointed toward the open French doors. “Bring me a diet soda from the machine and we're even,” she said with a wink as Maya passed the desk.

“This is all rather exciting,” were Jack's first, slightly breathless words. “How come you didn't mention the other day that you wrote apps?”

“I was trying to stay focused,” Maya said. It wasn't entirely true. She wasn't sure how much of what she shared with Jack would bounce right back to the school administration. It had felt safer to keep quiet about the extent of her coding in case they tried to slow her down. Yet she sensed that Jack would understand. Guys her age understood tech in a way most teachers didn't.

“So—what's the answer to my question? Do you want to take things to the next level?”

Maya paused, felt the skin on her cheeks tighten as she blushed at the faint hint of a double entendre. Turning away in case Miss Topalian saw her, she tried to suppress her own instinct to flirt.

He's your tutor, for crying out loud
, she told herself.
Get a grip!

“I . . . I don't even know what the next level is,” she said, and heard the huskiness in her own voice. “I'm just trying to write a cool app.”

“Oh—well, okay. It all sounds tremendous. I didn't mean to interfere.”

Maya smiled, once again taken aback by his politeness. “No—I appreciate the advice. Business angel? I'll look into that.”

“What I wanted to tell you is that if you ever need a contact, let me know. I only know about them because I went to a networking thing at the Caltech Investment Opportunity Network.” He gave a heavy sigh.

For a moment, Maya regretted her reaction. He seemed a little put out, deflated. “You know investors then. How come?”

“‘Know' might be putting it a bit strongly. I've
met
some.”

“You're still way ahead of me,” she said, this time encouragingly.

“It's a long story, but basically, my rather troublesome ex, Clarissa, is over from London. Things can get a bit, y'know, awkward, so I thought I'd take her somewhere where we'd have a lot of distraction. Mainly, it's a bunch of ‘angel' investor types hanging around campus. If you want, maybe you could come along to the next pitch meetings?”

“Come along with you and your ex?” Maya said, barely containing a gasp.

“Not at all,” he replied hurriedly. “I mean, after Clarissa's gone back home. It would just be you and me. Truth
be told, I don't have any free time until she leaves, anyway.”

“Ha,” Maya said, relieved. “Me? Pitch to investors? Yeah, like that's gonna happen.”

“And why not?” he demanded. “What do you say? Are you in?”

Maya nodded slowly, clutching her phone to her ear. The sudden drop in his voice, the insistent timbre sent a shiver right through her. She felt a long-forgotten thrill course through her veins. When had she even last had a crush? And why did it have to be on a tutor—especially one whose “rather troublesome ex” was in town?

“Sure.” Maya took a deep breath. “I guess it couldn't hurt.”