The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove (17 page)

The falls cascaded cleanly down a limestone cliff and landed in a pool of water that, in the moonlight, was almost obscenely aquamarine. It wasn’t that high—nothing in the Charleston area rose very far above sea level. But over the years, a perfect limestone niche for two had formed directly underneath the stream. On an early night like tonight, a slower stream of water from a nearby mineral spring sprayed off a cloaking mist that made being there feel kind of like being in a dream.

Every time we went to the falls, Mike arrived before me. He always left a trail from the spot where the path ended to where I’d find him under the alcove, because even though I’d been there enough times to find it in my sleep, Mike still said he didn’t want to lose me on the way. He’d sprinkle rose petals or chocolates or birdseed—once he’d even left a few pairs of his boxers in the tree branches, like flags leading me right to him.

Tonight, the path was bare.

My heart raced at the thought of being stood up a third time, but when I dipped under the sheet of water to the alcove, Mike was there. He was seated on our rock with his head in his hands.

“You didn’t leave me a trail,” I said.

“I thought you liked doing things on your own,” he said. His black shirt sagged at the shoulders, and his face looked as white as the moon. “Besides,” he said sadly, “haven’t we left enough trails already?”

“Mike,” I said. He stood up when I went to him. We wrapped our arms around each other and just stood there for a moment.

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, “about the other day.”

He lifted me up and I swung my legs around his waist. Then he backed me up against the wall of rocks and pressed his body against mine. We kissed. It was long and hot and very us. Something in me welled up with relief.

But when Mike pulled away, we both opened our eyes, and the unwelcome, unfamiliar fear found its way into our waterfall.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, setting me down.

“Look, I’ve got everything figured out,” I said, leading Mike back to his seat on the rock. From my backpack, I pulled out a foil-covered plate of my specialty Carolina Bourbon Brownies that always got Mike’s mind focused before a test.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“Sustenance to help us strategize,” I said, popping a well-done corner piece in his mouth. “I’ve been thinking, just in case Baxter’s DVD does prove too hard to get a hold of, we’re going to need a plan B. Which is why I’ve found the perfect way to keep Officer Creeper in check.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said.

“You do?” I asked, leaning into him. Everything depended on Mike being with me on the plan.

“Are you kidding?” Mike raised an eyebrow in that sexy way of his. “After the way that guy treated you in the fishbowl the other day? I’m all ears.”

“A little bird tells me Officer Parker is packing an incriminating DVD or two of his own,” I said, gaining confidence as he egged me on. I wiggled my finger through his button-down shirt and tickled his ribcage. This was much more like it. “I’ll get us access to proof of O.P.’s statutory ways,” I said. “And if he’s still not cooperating, we might just have to air his dirty laundry.” I leaned in for the clincher. “During regularly scheduled ‘Path to Palmetto’ programming at the Ball.”

Since Mike and I had more footage of the two of us over the past three years than probably any other couple, everyone was expecting our film to be of Oscar-worthy caliber. We’d finished editing it way before Palmetto had even announced the winners, so all that was left to do was turn it in to the Anger, resident dance technician, who vetted it through the fishbowl to make sure it was PG enough for the dance. I loved our movie almost as much as I loved wearing the crown.

So it gave me a sizable pang of sadness to think about pulling our tape from the deck. But when I saw the intrigued look on Mike’s face, I knew it would be worth the sacrifice.

“You’re going to rig the ‘Path to Palmetto’ segment at the Ball to play an Officer Parker sex tape?” He laughed, incredulous. “You really want to do that? But you love our movie.”

“I also love the idea of blackmail for the blackmailer,” I said.

“Well, that would do the trick.”

I smiled. “He’ll be lamer than a Carolina duck in hunting season.”

Mike ran his hand through my hair. It felt so good I closed my eyes and just basked in the simple comfort of the moment. But when I opened them, his brow was furrowed yet again.

“What?” I asked, sitting up and taking his hand. “What’s going on with that look?”

Mike kissed my hand, but his eyes still looked worried. “I’m glad you figured something out about O.P. I mean, I could kill that guy. But there’s something I have to tell you.”

I nodded.

“I have some news about Baxter,” he said.

“He’s in rehab,” I said without looking up. “I know that.”

“Yeah, well, not for long.” Mike sighed. “He’s on his way back, just in time for the Ball on Friday.”

A rush of humid water from the fall seemed to choke me. I dropped the brownie in my hand.

“How did you hear about this?” I demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.” Mike sounded defensive. “I got a letter from him today. He says he knows what we’re up to, Nat. I don’t think he’s going to let us get away with it.”

“But . . . what happened was an accident,” I stammered. “It wasn’t our fault!”

“I know that,” Mike agreed. “But what’s happened since J.B., all this plotting . . .” He trailed off. “You do realize we’re framing someone with murder?”

“Of course, I realize it. I’ve spent every waking minute consumed by it. But what other choice do we have? It’s going to end up being Baxter’s word against ours. Who do you think the school’s going to believe?”

Mike stepped away. He was rubbing his forehead again.

“I think we’re in over our heads.” He bit his lip. “The letter came through Kate. I think she’s got his back.”

I narrowed my eyes. This was an unwanted twist. Under normal circumstances, I might have pulled Kate aside to school her on the perils of expecting too much from a guy like Baxter. I might have suggested she just cut her losses and move on. But Kate had crossed me twice now in the wrong week, when Mike and I didn’t have the time or energy to look out for anyone’s best interests other than our own.

“Kate is nothing more than a childish slut with too much money, and Baxter is a junkie,” I huffed finally. “I guarantee you as soon as she gets distracted by another guy, she’ll have no problem abandoning her post. It’s not like she’s getting any conjugal visits while Baxter’s under house arrest.”

“Okay,” Mike said, “so . . .”

“So that’s it.” I smirked. “You get one of your linebacker friends to hit on her at the Ball. Make sure he takes her home. I guarantee, it will be like Baxter Quinn never even existed.”

Mike nodded, but he was starting to look confused again.

“Hey.” I cupped his chin. “Remember a short while ago when you loved my single-minded masterfulness?”

He gave a sad little laugh. “I do,” he said.

“It’s still me, baby. We’re still in this together. I just want to stand up there next to you and wear that crown. I know you want it, too.”

“I don’t know,” he said. His words came fast and sounded nervous. “It’s like, I want to reach out and touch you, to make you feel better, to make myself feel better. That’s all I know how to do.” He shook his head. “But recently, I feel like I don’t know anything. I love you and I’m trying, but I don’t know who you are.”

It was only then that I realized how disconnected Mike and I really were. We’d never had to try before. There’d never been a need to reconnect because we were always just together. Our friends even called us John and Yoko, teasing us because wherever one of us was, you could always find the other.

I reached for his belt buckle. Maybe it was a reflex. It was all I could think of to keep us together, even though part of me knew it was wrong.

“No,” he said, flicking my hand away.

I looked down at my hand as if I’d just been stung. I felt my face fall. Mike had just swatted me away. He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t.

I sat down next to him on the rock and pulled his lips to mine. He kissed back, but something about it was like a reflex more than a desire.

This was so frustrating. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed harder, slipping my tongue between his teeth. I waited for the pull on my bottom lip that always told me he was really into it . . . but it never came.

After a minute, he pushed me back. My heart raced, panicked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t pretend like everything is okay. I can’t push what we did out of my mind.”

I sat mortified on the rock, with no part of my body touching Mike’s. I felt like he’d slapped me in the face. A light breeze picked up, and I suddenly realized my face was damp. Tears were streaking down my cheeks.

“Natalie,” he whispered, clearly pained—which just made it worse. I felt myself breaking, ever so slightly. Something inside me was snapping. And he still kept his hands in his lap, not touching me. “Don’t.” His voice broke and I began crying in earnest.

“I can’t help it,” I said, soaking my shirtsleeves with my tears. “I can’t. . . . I just can’t do this alone.”

At last, he turned to me and tucked my hair behind my ear. He kissed my eyelids, getting his lips wet with my tears.

“You’re not alone,” he said. “I’m in this with you. You know I am.” I tried to take a deep breath, but it had been so long since I had really cried that now I felt like I couldn’t control it. I was so tired. So, so tired.

He brushed my hair back again with his strong hands and finally showed me the smile I hadn’t realized I’d been craving all week. “Here,” he said, “I have something for you.”

“You do?”

I wiped my eyes while Mike reached behind him and pulled out a large white box.

“I know you’ve been waiting for this,” he said, handing it to me.

When I opened it, I gasped. I had completely forgotten that tomorrow was Jessamine Day. I’d been waiting four years to get the all-white senior privilege flower, instead of the gaudy, colored underclassmen one. And this Jessamine was perfect. My eyes stung as fresh tears threatened—in all of this awful mess, Mike had still remembered. He still loved me. I wasn’t alone.

And the Jessamine. It was gorgeous.

It was big enough to make an impression but completely tasteful in its design. I held it up to my heart, where I’d wear it pinned to my overalls to school tomorrow. The centerpiece was a crown with an opal at its center.

“I had to have it specially ordered,” Mike said. “The Dick had to call three factories to find that there crown. It’s the only one in the state. But I knew what I wanted,” he said. “And I got it.”

“It’s perfect. It’s royal,” I said, slipping my tongue in his mouth. This time he kissed me back softly.

“Is it too heavy for you?” he asked when we pulled away for breath.

I pressed my mouth against his again, glad to feel his tug on my lower lip.

“With your help bearing the load,” I said, “I think I can manage.”

CHAPTER Sixteen

“H“ave you seen what the Double D is wearing on her veralls today?” Jenny asked the next morning by my locker. overalls today?” Jenny asked the next morning by my

I snorted, adjusting my Jessamine to hang at a perfectly straight angle. “I didn’t think she’d show. How’d she get a date?”

“Au contraire,” Amy Jane said. Her own Jessamine was gaudy and glittering. It lit up like a Christmas tree when you pressed a button at its center. I would never wear anything close to it, but somehow Amy pulled it off. She lowered her voice and leaned in. “The D.D. is dateless. Her daddy made a Jessamine for her out of pity.”

“Of course he did,” said Jenny, whose Jessamine was totally old-school and tasteful, its centerpiece a rare real flower. Jenny cleared her throat and nodded at my own Jessamine. “I’m sure that’s how she got a crown as her centerpiece, too.”

“What?” I gasped. “Mike said mine was the only one in the state.”

Amy Jane grimaced and took out some cooling cucumber facial mist from her bag. “Uh uh uh,” she coaxed. “No stressing today. You cannot get all puffy-faced before your big night tomorrow.”

“
I’m
the Princess. Double D is hardly a groundling.” I could feel my breath quicken, and I held on to the base of my locker for balance. Usually something like this wouldn’t unnerve me so much.

“She’s flipping,” Jenny said. “Nat, you must stay calm. Darla’s mum is tacky and looks nothing like yours—”

“Except for the crown,” Amy Jane said automatically.

Both Jenny and I shot her a look. She shrugged.

“Sorry,” she said. “Jenny’s right—Double D’s flower is school colors. Utterly tacky. Anyway, she won’t even be at the dance tonight—it’s not like she can get away with bringing Daddy as her date.”

“Whereas you, Princess Nat,” Jenny picked up, “will be the belle of the Ball”—she looked at her watch—“in less than twenty-seven hours. At least if I have anything to do with it.” She clapped her hands and opened her PDA. “Now we’re all meeting tomorrow at four o’clock with garment bags and cosmetics, yes?” Amy Jane and I nodded. “The Bambies are coming to help—don’t groan, you know they’re good at the grunt work—”

“At least that’s what the football team says. . . .”

Jenny rolled her eyes at Amy Jane. “Nat, you gave Ari Ang the DVD of your ‘Path to Palmetto’ story?”

“Of course,” I said, my heart fluttering briefly about the alternate DVD I had tucked in my backpack and what I was about to undo. Slutsky had come in handy after all. Once I’d called her out on the pills she’d picked out of my purse, she’d been more than happy to “lend” me a naughty tape of her and Officer Parker for sex education purposes only, of course.