The Cheater (3 page)

Carter struggled to choke back her anger. How could he joke about something so serious?

Then she realized what was behind his joke: a message. This test was serious to her, but not to
him. While he had nothing to lose, her whole future was at stake.

“Now,” said Adam. “It's time to collect my payment. What time should I pick you up?”

“Don't come here,” Carter replied quickly. She didn't want anyone to see Adam pull up to her house—especially her parents. “I mean, you don't have to pick me up. I'll meet you somewhere.”

“All right. Where?”

Carter nibbled a fingernail as she thought about it. “How about the corner of Village Road and Mission Street?” This was in the Old Village, several blocks from her house. “Do you know where that is?”

“Sure,” said Adam. “I'll meet you there at eight.”

“Good.”

“And, Carter, try not to dress like a North Hills princess. We're going into
my
world tonight and it's no country club.” He hung up before Carter could say a word.

Carter was seething. How
dare
he call her a princess? She could handle any place he wanted to take her.

Still, while dressing for the date later that evening, she was careful about what she wore. She put on a pair of ripped jeans and a plain black top. She took off all her jewelry.

At five minutes to eight she left the house, telling her mother that she was going to Jill's. She walked
two blocks, then took the bus to Village and Mission—and waited.

Five minutes later a beat-up old black Mustang pulled up to the corner and stopped. It was Adam.

He didn't turn off the motor and get out of the car. He just stuck his head out the window and gave Carter a sexy smile. “Hi,” he said. “Get in.”

She walked around the car to the passenger side. He flipped the door open and she slid in.

They rode in silence. Awkward silence.

Every few minutes Carter glanced at Adam, trying not to let him see she was studying him.

She couldn't help thinking that he looked great. He wore jeans and a plaid shirt—nothing special, but on his lean frame they had an easy sexiness.

In the same clothes, Dan would have looked neat and buttoned-up, somehow. But with his shaggy hair and dark eyes, Adam was almost a rock star.

Carter watched as they rolled through the Old Village. “Where are we going?” she asked him.

“The Underground. Ever been there?”

“No—not yet.” Carter didn't want to admit that she'd never even heard of it.

They were slowly cruising through a seedy warehouse district. The streets were deserted, lit only by an occasional street lamp. They turned down a dark alley and Carter noticed a lot of cars parked outside one of the warehouses. There was no sign—just a red light over the door.

Adam pulled into a small clear area. Carter knew that this was it—the Underground.

Without a backward glance at Carter, Adam climbed out of the car and started toward the door with the red light over it. Carter followed him.

Adam pulled open the door. Carter was suddenly hit by a blast of loud music. A brawny bouncer stood just inside. He glanced at Adam and checked Carter out, but he didn't stop them.

The club was huge, dark, and crowded. Some people sat in a corner, smoking and talking. Others were crammed in the center of the room, dancing.

Most of the guys had Adam's careless, slightly dangerous look—uncombed long hair, scruffy clothes, combat boots. The girls wore jeans or tight dresses, dark lipstick, and sneering expressions.

Carter knew she didn't fit in, no matter how hard she had tried not to dress “like a North Hills princess.” Her jeans were torn at the knee but clean, her blond hair neatly trimmed. Her skin had a pampered glow. She felt a little uneasy as she glanced around the club and saw hostile glares in the eyes of some of the girls.

But knowing she was out of place comforted her too. At least, she thought, I won't run into anybody I know. As Adam had said, the Underground was no country club.

Adam took her hand and led her through the crowd onto the dance floor. They started moving to the pounding beat. Adam was the first guy she'd ever danced with who didn't look stupid while he danced. He moved loosely, with cool detachment. He danced in his own little world, but once in a
while he gazed at her with burning eyes and gave her that smile.

The music went on and on without stopping, one song moving seamlessly into another. Carter found herself getting lost in it. She forgot about the people all around her and just danced.

She glanced up at Adam and found him staring at her while she moved. They locked eyes and danced together, without touching.

The room grew more crowded. People bumped into them, pushed them closer, but it was all part of the music and the beat. The club was getting hotter, the music even louder.

Carter didn't know how long she danced. She felt a drop of sweat slide down her back.

The crowd had thinned a little when Adam took her hand again and pulled her off the dance floor. He stopped at a table and asked for two glasses of water.

Carter drank the water quickly. She was very thirsty. Her face and hair were now damp with sweat. She was having a good time. It surprised her.

“Let's go,” Adam said. He put his glass on the table, pulled hers out of her hand, and set it down too. Then he led her to the door.

Outside, the air was cool. Carter smiled and said, “It feels great out here!”

Adam unbuttoned his shirt and fanned it around his body to cool himself off. “You're a good dancer,” he said.

Carter blushed a little. “So are you.”

She glanced around, looking for the blade Mustang. A lot of cars were gone. It must be later than I realized, she thought.

She slid into Adam's car, and he drove her through the quiet, late-night streets. Carter rolled down her window and let the spring breeze cool her face. The radio played softly.

At last they turned onto her street. She told Adam to let her off at the corner. Adam pulled over to the curb. Carter couldn't help but feel the night was over too soon.

She turned to him to thank him, but she had just managed to open her mouth when he leaned over and kissed her, long and hard.

At first she was surprised, but then she lost herself in it, just as she'd lost herself in the music at the Underground.

When it was over, Carter found herself gasping for breath.

Finally she said awkwardly, “Thanks for everything, Adam. Thanks for—you know—the test, and the date too.”

She opened her door and climbed out. As she closed the door behind her, he called out through the open window, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

She stopped. The next day was Sunday. “Tomorrow?” she said. “I'm playing tennis with Jill at one at the club—if it's warm enough.”

“Great,” said Adam. “I'll meet you there at one.”

He
what!

This stopped Carter cold.

One date, she thought. We agreed on one date.

But before she had a chance to object, Adam sped off down the street. She watched his taillights disappear around the corner. He was gone.

She hurried down the dark street toward her house.

How had she gotten herself into this? What would she do with a guy like Adam at the North Hills Country Club? He'd fit in there even less than she fit in at the Underground.

And how would she explain it to Jill? Jill didn't know about the test or the date. No one did.

And no one would. That was the most important thing of all.

Adam couldn't have been serious, Carter thought. He doesn't really want to go to the club. He was just teasing me. Another joke.

Soon she convinced herself that Adam didn't mean to go to the club at all. She should have felt better, but the street was so eerily quiet, so empty and dark….

She quickened her pace, glancing warily into the shadows all around her. The yellow light burned beside her front door—just a few more feet.

She walked up the front path. Don't worry, she told herself. You're almost home. You're almost safe….

Then suddenly something moved in the bushes next to the house.

Carter froze. What was that?

She stared at the bushes, but they were still. Then they stirred again.

Carter was too frightened to run.

A figure moved in the shadows.

“It's about time you got home,” a voice said nastily. “I've been waiting for you.”

C
arter wanted to run, but her legs felt as heavy as lead.

“Who's there?” she cried in a whisper.

The figure moved into the light. Carter squinted, trying to focus on who it was.

It was a woman. No. A girl. Skinny, with pale red hair.

Carter recognized her. It was Sheila Coss. Adam's girlfriend.

“Sheila? What are you doing here?”

Sheila stood between Carter and the door. “What's going on between you and Adam?” she snapped.

How did Sheila know about that? Carter wondered. Maybe she didn't really know anything. Maybe she was just guessing. Carter decided the only thing to do was lie.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Carter said. “I hardly even know Adam.”

Sheila gave a little laugh, a cynical “hah.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket, lit one, and frowned at Carter.

“I know Adam's been sneaking around with some other girl,” she said. “I've known it for weeks now.”

Carter hid her surprise. Was it true? She wondered who else had Adam been seeing?

She watched as Sheila paused to blow a smoke ring into the night air. She's just paranoid, Carter thought. That must be it.

Sheila went on. “The only thing I don't know— not for certain, anyway—is
who
the little rat has been seeing. But I'm going to find out. Soon.”

The air was starting to feel chilly on Carter's damp skin. It was late, and she was tired. She wanted to go inside.

She made a move toward the door. Sheila blocked her way.

“If it's you, Carter,” Sheila said in a nasty whisper, “you better hope I don't find out about it. ‘Cause when I find the girl, she's going to wish she never laid eyes on Adam.”

She stepped out of Carter's path now, tossing her cigarette on the lawn. Then she moved away, casually, as if she had all the time in the world.

Carter stamped out the cigarette and hurried into the house. She shut the door behind her and locked it, her hands shaking.

She made her way to her room and undressed for bed. But once in bed, she couldn't relax. “The test
is over now,” she told herself, trying to calm her nerves. “The date is over. It's all over. And Sheila doesn't know anything for sure—”

But if Sheila didn't know anything, what had made her show up at Carter's house that night? What would make her suspect that Carter was seeing Adam, unless she knew
something?

With these thoughts whirling through her mind, Carter eventually managed to fall into a restless sleep.

She woke up late the next day, still tired. If she didn't dress quickly, she'd be late for her tennis date with Jill.

She threw on a clean white T-shirt and a pair of white shorts, and grabbed her tennis racket, bag, and car keys.

She pulled into the club parking lot at exactly one. The sun was bright, and the air was very warm. So far it had been a very early spring.

Carter got out of the car and started for the clubhouse, looking for Jill's car. It wasn't there.

But Adam was.

He was standing outside the gates, wearing a black T-shirt, cutoff jeans, and black high-top sneakers—not exactly proper tennis attire. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he was holding a beat-up wooden tennis racquet and a gym bag.

Adam was scowling. A uniformed security guard stood next to him, his arms folded across his chest.

Carter gulped nervously as she walked toward the gates. He was serious, she thought. He really showed up. I can't believe it!

“Hi, Carter,” Adam said when she reached him. “This guy”—he jerked his thumb toward the guard—“wouldn't let me in. I told him I'm your guest, but he doesn't believe me.”

Carter wanted to sink into the ground. The guard stared at her, slightly surprised now. But his face didn't completely lose its no-nonsense expression.

“Um, it's okay,” she said to the guard. “He's with me.”

The guard, still skeptical, let his arms drop from his chest and stepped aside.

Carter led Adam through the gate into North Hills Country Club.

North Hills was the most exclusive club in Shadyside. High walls hid it from public view, so few nonmembers even knew what it was like. Inside, the grounds were beautifully landscaped. There were two heated pools, plush locker rooms, ten perfectly kept tennis courts, and a rolling green golf course.

The clubhouse was an old Tudor-style mansion. Inside, there were squash and racquetball courts, a banquet hall lit by a huge crystal chandelier, lounges filled with leather-covered furniture, and a restaurant overlooking the practice green.