The Designated Drivers' Club (9 page)

How confusing. David was the one she came with, the one she thought she would leave with. Still, David never kissed like this. His kisses tendered sweet, playful fun — sure. Not this. Why did this immediately make her feel want, and wanted?

“Holy Crap, Jenny,” Grant whispered. She shook her eyes open and saw that the crowd had moved and the only pressure holding him against her now seemed to be her fingers strung through the hair at the nape of his head, along with the other ones clutching his back. His hand splayed across her spine, lightly circling and his breath labored. He rubbed his cheek to hers.

“I’ll never say I hate crowds again.” Grant grinned. “In fact, I think I’m in love with crowded rooms filled with drunken, staggering people.” He turned to survey the mob around them, briefly settling on a point across the room. His shoulders raised and lowered in an exaggerated sigh. He extricated himself from her fingers just as the young man arrived with her champagne. “My boss is signaling. Gotta go.”

He disappeared into the crowd, briefly glancing over his shoulder before it engulfed him as it had done David. Jenny gulped the champagne then looked again for the man that brought her. No success. Should she regret the kisses? No. Grant’s sudden departure left her exposed and confused, yet desired. David left her feeling just the opposite.

She abhorred the throng of people swarming to get a glimpse of the latest celebrity, of which there were many.
I don’t belong here.
She didn’t have a clue what this industry was about. When people looked at her, tried to place her face, then shrugged her off as unimportant — it amused her, so completely that, when the champagne took effect, she giggled at each demeaning glare.

• • •

The young man Grant sent with champagne returned with a glass of white wine, something sweet yet sinful. She traded her empty glass for the new elixir, thanking him in the process. Holding it to her lips, she inched her way along the wall to the staircase, hoping to find a comfortable spot along the balcony. A spot where she could freely people watch without the threat of getting pancaked into the wallpaper.

Jenny heaved a sigh of relief fifteen minutes later when she secured her goal. Wine in hand, she stood at a rail and watched Grant listen as Hodge shouted into his ear. He nodded twice before disappearing through a door behind the food counter. He returned a few minutes later with a small box and handed it to Hodge, who tapped him on the arm and sent him away.

She didn’t care what he pretended; he liked this, admit it or not. People stopped him as he weaved through the crowd, hands on his arm covered in flashy clothes or jewelry. His sternness broke suddenly when an elderly man with silver-streaked hair animatedly spoke. His face opened up in laughter — big shoulder-heaving laughter. It caught her by surprise. Mr. Grumpy Pants had a sense of humor hidden behind all that surliness. Who would guess?

Admittedly, he had a lot more than that hidden behind the scowl. Jenny sipped the wine. Out of the corner of her eye, something flashed toward the far end of the room. The tiara had resurfaced from the back. The girl’s tousled hair stuck partially in the tongs of the sparkling crown as she tiptoed into the room from the door that Grant had passed through earlier followed a few seconds later by a man. Jenny’s man. David. She spit the wine back into her glass.

“I’m such an idiot,” Jenny mumbled.

“No, you’re not,” a child-like voice responded from her left. It stood out in the ocean of adult voices. Jenny glanced down to see a little girl with dark brown curls smiling. The same girl she’d seen just before she wrecked her car. “You’re not that at all,” the girl added. The girl shook her head and frowned.

“Hello. What are you doing here? You live here?”

“Yes! Isn’t it bootifull? Me and my brother’s rooms are down here. Wanna see?” The brown curls bounced in circles as she whirled and ran toward a hallway off the balcony. A little hand lifted up, motioning come hither for Jenny to follow.

“We haven’t been here long. I miss my old room but Daddy said this was the best place to be. The best place for us. Momma thought it was silly. She said it’s too big, but she still did it.” The girl walked backward as she spoke. She stopped at a door with a purple moon face painted on the outside.

“This is it! Go ahead, open it. You’re gonna wish you had one like it, though,” she warned. The brown curls bobbed in anticipation. Something about the face brought back the odd feeling that had crept over Jenny when she first arrived. Her face, round and cheerful, held nothing threatening, other than a smug grin that obviously hoped to make Jenny jealous of the room on the other side of the door. Her brown eyes were curious, one completely chocolate velvet. The other held a large gold speck in the pupil that made one stare at it, as if it would wipe away.

“So, whose room is this?” Jenny placed her hand on the knob.

“Mine, you silly! I told you that. Come on, open the door!”

Jenny turned the knob and slowly pressed the door open part way, then slammed it shut again. “Nice. Yeah, real nice. Thanks,” she teased.

“Oh my gosh,” Shilo blurted. “Come on! I want to show you something. Quit playing around.” Her frown masked the giggles that threatened to erupt.

Jenny flung the door open again. A cool blast flew past her and before Jenny was aware that Shilo had passed, she was twirling around inside the room, dancing from one side to another.

“See! See! Isn’t it great?” Shilo jumped on the bed and patted her hand on the purple, yellow, and lime striped spread. “That’s where Mom likes to sit when she reads to me. She hasn’t done it in a while but she used to. A lot. She doesn’t come around much now.” Shilo raised a small finger and pointed to the rocking chair nestled in the dark corner.

Jenny closed the door to shut out the noise of the party, and then reached for the light switch.

“No! I like it dark. Look.” Chubby fingers pointed to the ceiling. Little star and planet shapes twinkled above them — shapes that a loving parent had placed to give the illusion of a night sky.

“You were right. It’s beautiful.” In the dim light, it appeared the windows were adorned with purple curtains lined with lace ruffles. Wood blinds shut out the exterior lights. The bed Shilo bounced on was a four-poster twin size with graceful curves and carvings, all painted bright white. A matching desk butted up against the window so a child could look out while coloring or painting. Jenny stepped closer to observe the many colors that had slipped generously off paper onto the desk surface. Judging by its rainbow, Shilo loved to paint.

“Paint me something, Shilo,” Jenny urged. “I can see you’re an artist in the making. Would you paint something for me?”

“Oh, no. Not tonight. Daddy doesn’t want anyone messing up the house on party nights.” While Shilo talked, Jenny ran a finger over the desk surface, leaving a dust trail.

“Besides, I quit painting a long time ago. That’s for little kids.”

“And you’re definitely not a little kid anymore, are you?” Jenny smiled.

Why is it children want so desperately to grow up? Even as teens, they can’t wait to cross the threshold into adulthood. The little lifetime markers are so important — leaving grade school, leaving junior high, driver’s license tests, leaving high school. Then there’s becoming a voter, and becoming a legal drinker. Ironic that once those thresholds are passed, most people want desperately to go back, to be a child again with their entire future ahead.

“No. Not anymore. Hey, sit down. I want to show you my dance. We had a school play. I was in it. I’ll show you.” Shilo ran to the rocking chair and patted the striped pad that matched the bedspread. She rested her hand on the arm of the chair and waited until Jenny sat.

The rest of the room had significant light coming from under the door but the corner where the chair sat was dark, too dark to see her dance.

“Shilo, I can’t see you well — it’s too dark.”

“It’s a night dance with stars and stuff. That’s how we did it at school. Watch. You’ll see.”

Jenny sat quietly. Shilo twirled vicariously around the room. The noise from downstairs served as muffled background music to her steps, cajoling her along as she gyrated and bounced with arms extended. When pleased with her performance, she sank into an elaborate curtsey.

As if on cue, the door flung open revealing the silhouette of a dark young man. He paused on the threshold, then entered and sat on the bed. Shilo jumped behind the bed and hid, then held her hand over her lips to shush Jenny. She smiled as if they were playing.

Foreboding penetrated Jenny’s senses. Something oddly familiar about the silhouette washed through her.

Shilo giggled. “He can’t see me,” she whispered.

“Well, I think he knows you’re here now,” Jenny responded to the less than quiet voice.

The young man twirled his head, peered over his shoulder, and searched the shadows. “Who’s there?” He paced to the door and flicked on the light. He narrowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness.

Jenny smiled and waved. “Sorry to alarm you. We were just playing.” She recognized the young man she’d driven to campus.

“What are
you
doing here?” he asked.

“I was invited — I’m a guest. I guess I’d better get back downstairs.” She pressed her hands into the chair arms and pushed to her feet.

“Yeah, you better. You’re not supposed to be in here. This is my sister’s room,” he snapped.

“Yes, I know. Sorry about that.”

“Leave her alone, Walky. We’re just playing.” Shilo tugged lightly at Jenny’s fingers. She looked up indignant. “He doesn’t listen to me anymore. I talk and talk and he just
ignores me
.”

“Maybe that’s the problem — you talk and talk.” Jenny winked at her.

“Excuse me?” Josh asked.

“Walky? What’s the name Walky supposed to mean?” Jenny asked. His eyes widened in shock.

“Shilo used to call me that when she was a baby and it kind of stuck. She’s my sister.”

“Why that name?”

“My name is Walker Joshua. Walker was hard for her to say; she shortened it up. After … when I was twelve, I decided to go by Josh instead. I never liked Walker anyway. Where did you hear that?”

“I like them both.” He fidgeted with an object in his hand, a small chain with an attached charm. He shrugged and sat back on the bed, then turned toward her.

“What are you doing in here? You don’t like the party?” Josh asked.

Shilo squeezed her cold little fingers around Jenny’s and frowned. She pulled her other hand up to her lips and made the zipper sign.

“The party’s great. In fact, I’d better get back out there before my boyfriend wonders what happened to me. Nice to see you, Josh. You and Shilo are so lucky to have a home like this.”

“This isn’t our home. This is our dad’s place. I just come here on the weekends. Actually every other weekend. The rest of the time, I’m with Mom.”

“And you have rooms like this? Wow. He must really care for you.”

“We used to live here before they divorced. Before … before … all the bad stuff.”

“Well, the bad stuff just makes you appreciate the good even more.” She wanted to slap herself for saying that. It was so cliché. The kind of crap her mother used to say. She hated it then — sounded stupid. She knew firsthand no one wanted to hear that when they’re in a rough spot.

“Yeah. Right.” He rolled his eyes. “You’d better get back to your boyfriend.”

Jenny shrugged. Once again, the door flung open and another shadow figure appeared. This one she recognized immediately. Her stomach flipped. Grant.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked.

“Not much. Just chit-chatting,” Jenny responded. “How’s the party going?”

He ran his fingers through the dark hair, which for the first time looked tame — until he touched it. “It’s a party. In fact, you should probably get back to it. Hodge doesn’t really care for people wandering around, especially in here.”

“Understood. Although, it might help to section it off or something if you’re really concerned.” Jenny moved from the darkness and stepped toward the door. She smiled toward Josh. “Have a Happy Thanksgiving and a Merry Christmas if I don’t see you again.”

Josh waved, ignoring the questioning look Grant cast his way. She knew Josh wanted to talk more. She sensed it in the heavy eyes, but Grant’s presence stifled his questions.

As Jenny nudged through the doorway, brushing briefly against Grant, she pondered the family drama that ran through these walls when no party festivities filled the foyer and hallway. A lot of pain walked around here, silently blanketing interchanges between the people. She didn’t have a grasp on it, yet if she thought it through, most families have some sort of drama. So, it wasn’t all that unusual.

• • •

Jenny moved to the rail and searched the crowd for David. She wondered if tiara-girl was one of many and if that explained his scheduling problems with visiting — more so than the work itself. He had entered the show-biz world with enthusiasm. To Jenny it was a glitz and glamour world that masked the real underlying personalities of the people. It was like cellophane wrapped over their lives to keep them fresh and interesting. It mimicked an attempt to be somebody more important or more fabulous than the real self. She tugged up on the bodice of her dress once and felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Your wine, ma’am.” The young steward passed her a glass and a brief smile then left. Grant eased into the gap he’d vacated.

“He’s not there, Jen.”

“Who?”

“Your friend, David. He left a few minutes ago. That’s why I came up to find you. He said he had a call and had to leave. Wanted me to let you know.” He turned toward her, leaned an elbow on the rail, and wrapped fingers lightly around a drink glass. She wondered what it was. Clear liquid, bubbles, and no fruit. Vodka, perhaps? “He left without even talking to me? David wouldn’t do that. He’s not like that.” Admittedly, a week ago, she thought he wasn’t — now she wasn’t so sure.

“He isn’t? It’s none of my business, but how well do you know this guy, Jen?”

“We’ve dated a few months.” Seven months and ten days, to be exact. It was easy to keep up with because it correlated within four days of the start of her business. “We met when I had first started my business. He was one of my first clients. Kind of cute, really. He signed up so he could see me, so he said.”