Want (19 page)

Hmph.

When I turn around this time, R.J. lets me go. I need to think, and the best place for that? The shower. R.J. gave me a lot to think about, so it’ll be a long one.

Child predator? Technically, that may be true. I’d say it’s an overstatement. Heather and Isaac were teenagers. It happens. For once, I’m proud of Daddy. He did the right thing. I mean, what if it was R.J? But I know how people are. I know how everyone is in the Mystics. How awkward that this happened among families that are supposed to be friends and work together.

I imagine there was a split depending on who sided with the Swanns and who sided with the Laroches, and us by default. No wonder Mama and Marcie Swann fight like cats and dogs. I like to think Mama sided with the Laroches because it was the ethical choice, but experience tells me she just wanted to publicly support her husband. Put on a good front and all that. Still, they’d never let him come to our house and spend hours with me in the studio if they thought he was still into minors, even if I’m barely a minor anymore.

Which reminds me of the night of Isaac’s symphony performance. Curtis Moore went gray in the face when I told him I was riding home with Isaac. That must be why. And when I asked Isaac about it afterward, he’d said, “No, there’s no reason we can’t work together.”

Good to know. But is it because of the age difference, or because I’m…me? Not attractive enough. In that way, it’s another rejection. I’m seventeen, after all, and as R.J. reminded me, the legal age of consent in Alabama is sixteen. But then there was the day I did my recording and taunted him. He definitely responded, and I enjoyed seeing him with his head in his hands. That may have been cruel.

So what about now? If people know we’re a little more than teacher and student…we are, right? I mean, we’re at least colleagues, and we established a long time ago that we’re friends. R.J.’s warning is too late. I’ve been “mixed up in his business” for a while now. I don’t see how it’ll hurt me. I’ll be out of here soon, so people can think what they want. There aren’t any guys to chase off, and none of my friends from school have a clue. Mama and Daddy trust him, although they don’t know about the rendezvous at Felix’s. Okay, rendezvous is an overstatement. Maybe. I don’t know anymore.

But I’ll know more tomorrow tonight. What will I ask?
If it’s true?
If that’s why he stayed away for so long and why he’s so standoffish?

Truth time… What I really want to know is, how does he feel about Heather Swann now, after seeing her for the first time in almost a decade? Why did he go all fugue state on me in the middle of the street?

I won’t like the
answer, that
much is obvious.

Chapter Twelve

There are five shirts, three pairs of pants, a skirt and a zillion scarves on the bed. Shoes block the door, and there’s a bottle of perfume in each hand.
Someone tell me why I do this and why I care so much.
Nothing’s going to come of it.

Tonight, Mama and Daddy are at an important meeting. R.J. is on his way back to college. Except for
me and the dogs,
the house is empty. I’m trying to figure out what it is I think I’ll accomplish tonight when the alarm on my phone signals it’s time to go. The city bus is scheduled to arrive in five minutes. I grab my coat, my purse, my phone and my keys. And
lip gloss
.

The bus ride, though frigid, is uneventful. I spot Isaac’s car before I step onto the sidewalk. It’s directly in front of Felix’s, and it’s practically the only one on the block. Downtown is
deserted,
probably the result of the other night’s revelries, but the bar is still open. He waits for me by the bus stop sign. We fall into step but don’t say a word.

Percy isn’t at his usual post beside the door. Instead, Isaac opens the door for me and places his hand on the small of my back. Polite. Dominant. Intimate.

I draw in a sharp breath when I see where he directs me. The booth in the corner is dark, opposite the stage, and the last place anyone ever looks—its occupants are usually drunk and sucking face.

Excited? Terrified? My stomach can’t decide what it wants to be, though it turns over at the prospect of Isaac having as much of an agenda as me. I slide into the sticky seat first, glad I decided on tight jeans instead of a skirt.

So far, we haven’t spoken a word. My pulse kicks into overdrive when he sits with his entire right side pressed against my left. He turns to
me,
elbow on the table, and effectively blocks my view of the bar and the waitress who comes to take our drink order. He answers for me but never takes his eyes from mine.

Whoa. Hello, caveman
.

When he leans in close, his dead, narrowed eyes bore a hole through my head. “What?” he growls.

If my heart beat fast before, it gallops now. All the things I wanted to ask him?
Out the window.
He seems so angry.
At me?

“I w-wanted to know if you were all right?” I hate how that comes out as a question.

My weakness makes him seethe even more. Between his clenched jaw and flared nostrils, I swear he’s about to take a bite out of me.

“Why?”

“Um, why what?”

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t think it was possible, but he moves even closer. I squeak when my back hits the wall.

“Why,” he snarls, “do you want to know how I am? Why do you ask me to meet you here?” His lips are exactly the width of one white piano key away from mine, and I can’t stop staring. “Why do you insist on baiting me? See, I’ve had time to think over the last two days. Can you guess what I’ve been thinking about?”

I swallow—hard. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I shake my head. The back of it rubs the wall. His eyes travel the length of me, down, then back up, lingering on my chest, my neck,
my
lips. Finally, he looks me in the eyes again.

“I’ve been thinking about every time you batted your eyelashes at me, and the time you kissed me in your room. About you licking your lips and crossing your legs every time we meet here.
You showing up at my house in the middle of the night wearing next to nothing.
Mostly, I’ve been thinking about that ballsy move you made after your recording and how close I came to throwing your pretty ass on the floor.”

Oh, sweet Jesus
. I can hardly breathe, so it takes me a couple of tries to croak out an answer. “Oh?”

“Until the other night, I figured it was some juvenile experiment of yours. Pushing the boundaries.” He traces a single finger down my arm from shoulder to elbow.

I should be scared. Normal people would be scared. I try to look past him, but he’s almost on top of me. I draw in a shaky breath.

“What’s wrong, Juli? Isn’t this what you wanted?” His hand slides up my thigh and squeezes. I’m panting, not sure if it’s from fear or something else. Maybe both. He presses his scratchy cheek against mine,
then
rims the curve of my ear with his tongue.

He whispers, “How much did she pay you?”

“
What?
” I go from just about pissing myself to plain old
pissed
in an instant. I put all my strength into shoving his wall of a chest.

He chuckles. “Have you thought about changing your major to theater? The world needs more talented two-faced bitches.”

That does it. I pick up the beer the waitress left on the table at some point and toss it in his face. Instead of getting angrier, he laughs and sticks out his tongue to catch a drop that slides off the tip of his nose.

“I rest my case.”

“Isaac Alexander Laroche, I don’t know what in hell you’re talking about, but you better explain fast. I came here to make sure you were okay after you went all lunatic fringe the other night. Not because I want something from you. And certainly not because somebody paid me!”

I wiggle my way up until I can step from the seat onto the table and down the other side. I bolt for the door, but just as I hit the icy night air, a strong hand grips my arm.

“Did I give you permission to leave?” Isaac shoves me against the brick exterior of the bar. Percy picked a heck of a night to be off.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I clench my hands into fists. “Look, Isaac—Mr. Laroche, Mr. Hyde, whatever. I don’t know what this is about, but you’re clearly unhinged. When you care to explain all this to me, you know where to find me. Until then…” I only waver for a second. “Fuck off.”

Isaac grins and slowly walks backward down the sidewalk. He disappears into his car and peels out.

It’s then that the sobs work their way free. It’s dark, it’s cold, and I don’t know when the next bus is supposed to be here. I wander around to see if there’s a schedule posted somewhere. A couple of streets later, I pull out my cell and make a desperate call.

“Me-ow, I was just thinking about you, kitten. What’s up?”

“Dave—Isaac—he’s—something’s wrong.”

“Okay, calm down. You’ve got my attention. First thing, are you okay?”

“Yes. No.”

“You’ve got to do better than that. Are you injured? Bleeding?”

“No,” I whimper.

“Has Ike been injured?”

“No.”

“Is he there with you?”

“Not anymore.”

“Where are you?”

“Downtown.”

“So, you were with Ike, but he’s not there now? He left you alone at night in downtown Mobile?”

I rub away the tears and gather myself together. “Kind of. Look, that’s not why I called. I’m okay. A bus will be by soon. Isaac—”

“No, screw Ike. He can take care of himself. You stay on the phone with me until you get home, understand?”

“I’m okay, honest. But Isaac isn’t. There’s something really wrong. Something really bad happened on New Year’s Eve. Have you talked to him since then?”

“No.”

I give him the short version of events, leading up to this evening’s bizarre encounter. “Then he licked my ear and said
How
much did she pay you?
What on earth does that mean?”

Dave mumbles something I can’t understand.

“Dave?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.”

“Um?”

“Thinking of England?”

“Dave! How can you be like that at a time like this?”

“Kitten, with your accent it’s like listening to soft porn. How can I not?”

“Whatever. Listen, I see a bus. Why don’t you call Isaac and try to make some sense out of this?”

“First, no. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you’re home. Second, I already figured this out.”

“How?”

“Well, I don’t always think with my—”

“Okay! I get it. So what have you come up with?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Hon, he thinks Heather’s mom paid you to seduce him.”

I’m pretty sure my jaw flaps open and closed a couple of times, like the catfish Daddy and R.J. catch.

“Why—I need a minute to think. Hang on.”

“I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

The bus screeches to a halt. I climb on and don’t even care that it smells like yesterday’s vomit. There’s only one other person, and he’s far in the back. I sit up front.

Think, Juli, think
. Isaac believes this was a setup? That Marcie Swann recruited me to come on to him. Why? In case he ran into Heather and thought about rekindling their relationship? Last I heard
,
she was dating a senator’s son in Tuscaloosa. What other reason could Mrs. Swann have? I mean, it was years ago, and he stayed up north for almost a decade. Surely she didn’t intend for him to stay out of Mobile forever? All for a youthful indiscretion with a teenager…
Oh, snap
.

“Dave? Still there?”

“Yep. Just listening to you
breathe
. Got a little hot and heavy. Did you figure it out?”

“I think so. He thought I was her bait, that if I could lure him into something physical, she could say he still, um…”

“Prefers fresh meat?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I told you fifteen will get you twenty.”

“Dave, this is serious. What can we do?”

The smelly man in the back of the bus stands and moves two seats up.
Two seats closer to me.

“First, we’re getting you home safe. Then I’ll call Isaac and see if I can talk some sense into his dumb ass. You said your dad’s a lawyer, right? If push comes to shove, we may have to tell him everything.”

“I can’t! He’d freak. And my mama…”

Smelly guy moves three seats closer.

“That’s a last resort. Let me talk to Ike and go from there.”