No Easy Way Out (19 page)

“Yeah,” she said, feeling a little weird. Darren was sounding more earnest than usual. It was unnerving. “Sure.”

“Well,” he said. “Until then, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Later.”

“Later.”

She turned the CB off, tossed it in a drawer, and ran out of the room. Marco hadn’t forgotten! The banging was coming from the stockroom door. So he hadn’t gotten around to unscrewing the door panel. That was why he was late. “Shut up before a guard comes!” she whispered through the door.

She pushed the handle and not Marco, but Maddie and Ginger fell into her.

“You’re a life saver!” Ginger gasped.

“Security busted the party just as we were about to walk in,” Maddie said, brushing herself off. “What happened to you?”

Lexi tried not to cry. “Marco never showed.”

“Oh, crap.” Maddie gave her a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Maybe he got busted at the party?” Ginger, always trying to be helpful.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’d better get changed before security busts you in here.”

“No joke,” Maddie said, and pushed past her into the office.

Lexi didn’t bother joining them. She slunk back to her cot, hugged her arms around her body, and tried not to feel the loneliness that crushed down on her.

M
arco was shaken from sleep by fists gripping his arms. He cracked open his eyes and saw the end of a long black stun baton. “Let me guess,” he slurred.

“The senator,” said the guard.

Marco nodded and crawled out of his cot.

It felt like he’d just crawled into it. The
pendejo
in the IMAX hadn’t let him leave—every time he tried to get away, the guy threatened some breed of violence. Broken limb, broken nose, broken fingers. Marco nearly kissed the security team when they busted the place.

It had been the same as the night before: Everyone was lined up, temperatures were checked, any fever cases were weeded out and the rest returned to their dorms. Marco appreciated the regularity of the business. It was nice when things worked out exactly as you expected. Even this being shaken awake felt like business as usual. And at least the senator wouldn’t break his arm.

Marco had to reevaluate this last notion upon being thrust by the guard into her office.

“It was you,” she said, seething. “You and your two beefcake buddies.”

Marco sat in his usual chair and folded his arms across his chest for protection. Had she found out about Mike’s party, that Marco was running it under her nose? Better not assume anything, play dumb. “It was me
what
? You asked me to throw another party, I threw it.”

The senator scowled, one eyebrow arched. “It was you who stole the alcohol from the Grill’n’Shake, and elsewhere. Though I’m confused as to why you thought there would be alcohol in Johnny Rockets.”

That cleared things up for him. Someone must have seen him stealing the cups. “I didn’t go into Johnny Rockets to get beer. I went there to get
cups
. You keep leaving me kegs with no cups.”

“Bull.” Her face was still twisted in a scowl. “Your two buddies are good, keeping their faces away from all the security cameras. But I know it’s you, has to be. You’re the only one with a card key.” She held out her hand. “I’ll be taking it back, by the way.”

Now he started sweating. “No way,” he said, clutching his pants pocket like that would save his card, his freedom. “I swear, I didn’t steal any alcohol. Anything I’ve touched has been stuff you’ve given me. And Mike and Drew, they only had what I gave them.” Her face remained frozen. “I’m telling you the truth!”

She considered him for a moment longer, then relaxed. “Fine,” she said. “If you can prove to me in twelve hours that you did not steal the alcohol, I will apologize for the accusation and let you keep the card. If not, you’re done.”

“How can I prove that I didn’t do something? You know where I was all night, you know that I was setting the thing up all day or working your stupid job like you told me to. What more can I tell you?”

“You can tell me who
did
steal my alcohol.”

Marco stumbled from the mall offices, thinking how fraking tired he was of this crap. He was tired of running secret errands for the senator. He was sick of hosting parties he didn’t even want to go to. He was sick of every goddamned thing about this mall. Not that anyone cared about his problems. Not that he had a lot of other options
.

The first order of business was to confirm that Mike and Drew were not in fact stealing alcohol without his knowledge. He turned toward the bowling alley and began the investigation.

Drew was stumbling down the hall toward him as he entered the staff area of the bowling alley. “Taco,” he slurred, sounding like he was still drunk, “Mike is pissed.”

Get in line, dickhead.
“Great,” Marco said. “I just need to know one thing—did you two steal any alcohol from anywhere last night?”

“Hells no,” Drew said, pulling open the door to the janitor’s closet and pissing in the sink.
Classy.
“And we have to talk about that. Party frickin’ kicked like ten minutes after it started. There must be more handles. And a frickin’ keg, Taco, a goddamned
keg
.”

Well, that was enough evidence for him. “Okay. Noted. Fantastic.” He turned to leave.

“Dude, Mike wanted to see you!” Drew bellowed.

“Later,” Marco yelled, not even turning. “I will be back
later
.”

The last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment was a pissed-off Mike Richter.
One pissed-off person at a time.

At least now he knew that neither he nor Mike nor Drew were responsible for the alcohol thefts, so the senator was dead wrong on that front. And surely Ryan the mega-douche was not capable of running such an operation on his own. So now it was just the four thousand or so other people in the mall he had to investigate.
No problem whatsoever.

But first, breakfast.

• • •

The peace of Shay’s dream life was broken by the flash of Lights On. Her eyes cracked open—she’d forgotten to take out her contacts. In the bathroom, after cleaning and replacing the lenses, she splashed water on her face and stood in front of the hand dryer. The blast of air fanned her hair behind her.

“There are other people in this place, kid,” some lady grumbled.

Shay hit the button again.

When she came out, Preeti was waiting by her cot. “You coming to breakfast?” she said accusatorially, as if Shay had already abandoned her for a second time.

“I’m starved,” Shay said.

It was hard to be out in the crowds. People were talking too loud. It felt like they were screaming right in her ear. She had to keep a look out for Kris—she did not want to deal with him at that moment. And the food. God, how she missed things that crunched. But she forced herself to eat when she noticed Preeti staring at her untouched plate.

If only she could make her own Home Store in some corner, live off the grid. Eat Pringles and dried cranberries. Anything to keep from having to move through these days like they meant anything. Like they were not all just treading water.

Ryan.
He said he was hiding out, that Marco had found him someplace. What if Shay could hide with him? She would no longer need to dream—she could spend all day with him, with his lips. There could not be a more perfect solution to all her problems.

How to make it happen? She needed to find Ryan. She’d see him later in the afternoon—but waiting would mean seeing Kris first.
Unacceptable
. Like an answered prayer, she saw Marco speed-walking down the side hallway.

“Marco!” she cried, jumping up from the table. She bolted toward him. The end was near! “Marco, wait!”

He glanced over his shoulder to see who called and spotted her. His face brightened. He held out his arms. “Shay.”

Understanding he wanted a hug, and figuring she could give him at least that, she flung herself into his waiting arms. He pressed his cheek to her head. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

His embrace was stifling. She pushed slightly on his chest, and he disengaged.

“Sorry,” he said. “Is it your head?”

“Yeah,” she lied. “I’m so glad I found you,” she chirruped, plastering as huge a smile as possible on her face so he could see it beyond the edges of her mask. “Have you found me and Preeti a hiding place yet?”

“Hiding place?” His eyebrows tweaked. “You don’t want a hiding place. Stay in the dorms. You’re safe in the dorms.”

Shay did not like his patronizing tone. “I know what I want and I want a separate place to hide.” She pulled her spine straighter. “With Ryan, preferably.”

Now she had his attention. “So you’ve been hanging out with Ryan?” He leaned away from her. “I don’t think you want to be slumming it with him and his pals in a storage room. Last I saw them, one was pissing in a sink and the place smelled like the floor of a movie theater.”

“So Ryan and I will go someplace else.”

“Are you sure Ryan wants to live with you? Don’t you think he would have asked you?”

Shay tried to remember if he had. Hadn’t he? It was like chasing hamsters, trying to grab a single thought.

“Before you start planning your life with Ryan Murphy, you might want to consider whether he actually has anything to offer. If you remember, I’m the one who’s saved your ass every time it needed saving.”

Marco had it all wrong. Ryan had
exactly
what she needed. And she didn’t want to be saved. She wanted to be kissed. Entirely different.

“Well, thanks for all your efforts on my behalf,” she snarled. “Feel free to leave me the hell alone from here on out.”

His face clouded over. “With pleasure.” And with that, he turned and stomped away.

Tears threatened to fall. Her chin trembled. Why? Marco was being a self-important jerk!
Screw him.
She would hide out in the Magic Wok and wait for Ryan. Perfect! Then they would run away together. Find their own non-smelly, urinating-friend-free environment.

She returned to the table, where Preeti sat polishing off her breakfast.

“I figured you were done,” she mumbled, mouth full.

Shay slumped into her seat. “I wasn’t that hungry.”

“That was the guy from the Grill’n’Shake. Is he, like, your new boyfriend or something?”

Shay sneered at the thought. “He’s not my anything.”

Preeti shrugged. “He seemed happy to see you.”

“Yeah, well, he seemed happy to see me go too.”

“You still have me,” Preeti said, a smile crinkling the skin around her eyes.

Shay reached across the table and gave her sister’s forehead a shove. “Just what I needed.”

• • •

Maddie looked up from her slop. “Well, if it isn’t the ghost of dates past.”

Lexi followed her gaze and saw Marco slinking along the outer hallway. “Should I go talk to him?” she asked.

“No way,” Ginger said. “He ditched you. He’s the one who has to come to you to apologize.”

Maddie shrugged. “Depends on how bad you want him.”

Lexi weighed both approaches. She did want him pretty badly. She pushed herself to standing. Then saw another girl rushing toward him. That girl was gorgeous. She had a mane of black hair that whipped behind her like a cape. Marco held his arms out to that girl and she threw herself into them.

It all came back to her. The girl who was a friend, who let him into the JCPenney that first night. How much of an idiot was she? A girl who’s a friend. A girlfriend.

Lexi sat back down.

“Oh, crap,” Maddie said, eyes widening.

“He sucks.” Ginger folded her arms across her chest. “Kevin Reamer totally did that to me two years ago. He was dating Becky Lu—you remember, Mad?”

“Oh, I remember,” she drawled, rolling her eyes.

“And then, at David Silver’s bar mitzvah, he totally was all over me, asking me to dance, trying to kiss me, and I was like, aren’t you dating Becky, and he was all, not anymore, but then at school Monday, they were totally still together.”

“Ging, you have
got
to let that go.”

“I’m empathizing!”

“You’re complaining about something that happened in seventh grade!”

“It doesn’t matter when it happened,” Ginger snapped. “Kevin sucks. And that guy sucks. What’s his name, Lex?”

Lexi drove her spoon in circles through her mush. “Marco.”

“Marco. He sucks too.”

Maddie clasped Lexi’s arm. “Look now.”

Lexi glanced back at where the two had been all over each other. Now they stood apart. Marco looked pissed.

Maddie waggled her eyebrows. “All’s not well in Eden.”

Lexi couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Maybe he did get busted at that party?”

Maddie shrugged.

Ginger poked at her food. “Well, Kevin still sucks.”

• • •

A kick to the rear rocked Ryan awake. He dragged open his eyelids and immediately regretted it. “I’m gonna puke,” he mumbled.

“Jesus, J. Shrimp,” Mike said, obviously the kicker. “You have the tolerance of a ten-year-old girl.”

Ryan wondered what alcoholic ten-year-olds Mike partied with. “Just get me some water.”

Mike kicked him again. “Get it yourself.” He walked across the room. “Shrimp’s alive,” he yelled.

Ryan grabbed his head. Noise was bad. Very bad.

Drew stomped into the room, a bag under one arm, crunching something like a cow. “Barely.”

“This explains where all the vodka went.”

“Jeez, Shrimp,” Drew said, standing over him and raining crumbs. “Could have saved some for the rest of us.”

Crawling out of the room, Ryan found the janitor’s closet/bathroom and ran the faucet. He cupped some water into his mouth, then puked.

“Cleanup in aisle two!” Drew yelled from inside the storage room.

Ryan felt a bit better after puking. He would never drink again. Though this was the promise he swore every time he yacked. This time, though. This time he would follow the rule: Beer good, vodka badski.

He rinsed out the sink, peed, then doused the whole thing with bleach from a bottle on the shelf. Now that the thing was purified, he ran the faucet once more and took several long drinks.
Much better.
Though his head pounded, he at least could stand without the floor moving.

Mike had the police radio out and was scanning the channels. “Today, we start running our own lives,” he said as Ryan entered the room. “Taco is clearly not dealing straight with us, a fact which will be remedied upon his showing his skinny ass in this room. Until that time, we need to start doing some recon of our own. I want to know who threw this other party. I want to know if security busted it the way they busted us the other night. I want to know just what the hell is going on in this place.”

Ryan wanted a glass of OJ and an ibuprofen.

Drew crunched the last fistful of whatever had been in the bag, then crumpled the bag and lobbed it at the overflowing trash can. “I just want to know if that other party had a friggin’ keg.”

“Whatever the hell is going on, Taco’s in the middle of it.”

Ryan wondered if he should tell Mike about his own suspicions. But then Marco might try to retaliate, and tell Mike about Ruthie and Jack.

Crap.
Ryan had completely forgotten to check on them before the party. He’d left them alone since the afternoon. Ruthie was going to give him that look.

“I’m going to try to find some Sportade,” Ryan said, shuffling for the door. He figured it was the next best thing to OJ.