No Strings Attached Page 14

  Joss had hung up on the sleaze bags, knowing they’d be living in a bare house. The likelihood of the police recovering the stolen items was slim. Of course, he could easily replace everything—including Mitch’s money. It’d mean nothing to him, really, his trust funds, all the other accounts in his name? They’d barely register the withdrawal. It would mean, of course, alerting his father to his whereabouts and risking being pulled back home.

  Joss would’ve done it, anyway—running from that life seemed less important to him now—but if he did, he’d have to expose himself to the group. To Harper. She’d find out he’d been lying about who he was. Worse, if he replaced everything that’d been stolen, Mitch would go buy Leonora’s ring. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Mandy was fuming. But not at Ali. She wasn’t sure whether Miss Piggy had done anything or not. She simply couldn’t be bothered sticking up for her. She had a photo shoot to get ready for.

  Why had the thieves stolen her lingerie? What kind of sick pervs would do that? That was the big puzzle, she thought, as the sun’s afternoon rays caressed her topless body. Of course they hadn’t taken Alefiya’s ugly, oversize garb, or Harper’s ratty hippie chick rags—but why not Katie’s exorbitantly expensive designer duds? Why her cherished collection of teddies, and thongs, and push-up bras? Why her accessories? Her jewelry had been costume, cheap stuff, but it was all she had.

  Once she got famous, she thought, closing her eyes, she could afford the real things: those chandelier earrings, bejeweled belts, Judith Lieber beaded clutches, even real Manolos. Mandy licked her lips, picturing herself decked out royally. Like the outfit Paris Hilton wore, the one she’d cut out and put in her scrapbook.

  Unexpectedly, a tear slid out. Why the scrapbook? It was a piece of her soul, the one thing that truly was irreplaceable. But, she rationalized, using a corner of her towel to dry her eye, the scrapbook chronicled her dreams. Once they became reality, she’d have tossed it out herself. So maybe the thief had done her a favor. Saved her the trouble.

  What she didn’t need was the distraction of Mitch. But she could not help herself. Mandy was worried about him. The dumb fuck was talking about taking on a second job! Like he wasn’t wearing himself down as it was, doing that hoity-toity bitch Leonora’s business. He told her he was thinking of applying for a weekend lifeguard gig at Craigville Beach, soon as his hand healed.

  “That, plus the tennis thing?” She’d been disbelieving. “What’re ya, nuts? No one’s worth killing yourself over, Mitch.”

  He brushed her aside. “You go to that beach all the time. All I’m gonna have to do is sit up in the chair and relax. No one goes in the water. Everyone’s too busy hooking up.”

  Mandy wanted to believe that. But she didn’t.

  “Into each life, a little rain must fall.” That was one of the meant-to-be uplifting clichés Ali’s mom said to cheer her up. “The purpose of bad things happening,” she’d remind her daughter, “is to make you appreciate the good things even more.” When Ali was a child, she’d believed that. She was no longer a child.

  It took a lot to unhinge Ali, make her question her beliefs, but the climate at 345 Cranberry Lane, the “scorn-fest,” as Harper had called it, was making her come awfully close. The amount of animosity aimed at her weighed her down. It threatened to crush her spirit. She had misplaced a key here or there, that much was true. But she hadn’t given anyone a key.

  And okay, she hadn’t done a background check on the few people—not that many!—who’d slept over. But Alefiya trusted herself: She was perceptive about people. Those she befriended, those she’d been generous to, were not thieves.

  No way was the robbery her fault.

  Not one of her housemates believed her. Some were open-faced hostile; others said things behind her back. Didn’t matter. She knew they all blamed her. The words “We want you to leave” had not been said aloud, but it was all over Mitch’s face. Of all the share house people, his contempt was the one she could bear least. When a week had gone by and the anger toward her had not abated, she seriously did consider packing up and going home early.

  Jeremy talked her out of it. “What if we search and dig up the missing keys?” he’d suggested. “If they’re in the house, which I bet they are, maybe the others will at least consider it wasn’t your fault.”

  Ali didn’t think that would help.

  The next day, Jeremy had done the oddest thing. He’d arrived at the share house with a lantern. Ali was bewildered. “If you’ve come to help me search for the keys, a flashlight might work better.”

  Jeremy set the lantern down on her dresser and recited: “‘From falsehood lead me to truth, from darkness lead me to light. …’”

  Ali’s hand flew to her mouth. A direct quote from Hindu scripture, usually recited on the festival of Diwali, on which people lit rows of lamps along walkways and gardens.

  Jeremy blushed. “It’s a little early for your holiday, but I thought maybe you needed this now.”

  The glow, from deep within Alefiya’s soul, was brighter than a block of lanterns.

  Happy Birthday, Katie!

  “Surprise!” Two voices, a guy’s and a girl’s, rang out, accompanied by the sudden opening and shutting of the screen door.

  Katie froze. Sunday afternoon, she, Harper, and Ali had joined forces to clean the kitchen, since Mandy was primping for her shoot, Mitch was at his weekend lifeguard gig, and Joss was still asleep. An uneasy truce had been reached since the robbery three weeks ago. Ali had found the missing keys. It had not convinced anyone of her innocence.

  “Sur-PRISE!” The tandem voices again, coming from the living room now.

  Katie, in scraggly cutoffs and a baseball cap, had been sponging off the stove. Harper, in overalls, was cleaning the refrigerator shelves, and Ali, in a long boy’s T-shirt, had just started sweeping the floor.

  “Anybody home?” the female visitor called out as two sets of footsteps came closer.

  Katie knew the voice all too well. Her heart lurched. It was at that moment she truly realized how much she’d missed Lily McCoy, who had materialized, out of the blue, willowy, tan, toned, absolutely beaming—right in the kitchen archway.

  Lily had arrived neither alone, nor empty-handed. A tall, angular hottie, blond hair brushing his forehead, was at her side, holding a huge Ziploc bag of live lobsters in one hand, a bottle of Cristal champagne in the other.

  Lily herself was decked out in a Marc Jacobs mini, matching tank top with designer shrug. She carried a Dooney & Bourke clutch as her armpit accessory, and swung a plaid Burberry shopping bag in front of her. “Happy Birthday, Katie!” she sang out, running to embrace her. “I missed you so much!”

  Katie stood rigidly, allowing Lily to hug her (while the swinging shopping bag grazed her butt). She let the soaking wet rag in her hand drop to the floor (instead of staining Lily’s half-cardigan top, like she should have done).

  Lily backed off and tilted her head sympathetically. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but best friends do not let birthdays go uncelebrated.”

  Katie murmured, “Best friends don’t abandon each other for—”

  “This is Luke,” Lily said brightly, her arm snaking around the cruelly thin (for a guy) waist of her boyfriend, the guy she’d deemed her “better offer.” Lily started to say something about “It’s time you two met” when, jarringly, a pair of earsplitting noises rocked the house.

  The refrigerator slammed shut and with such fury, the bottles in the door crashed into one another. At the same moment, the Cristal champagne smashed to the floor along with the bag of lobsters. Everyone jumped.

  That’s when Katie realized, to her horror, that Harper was right there.

  And when Luke learned, to his horror, that Harper was right there.

  The exes stared at each other, Harper’s eyes full of fury, Luke’s wide with the fear of the guilt-ridden.

  Ali stared at the floor. The lobsters had crawled out of the bag.

/>   Lily stammered, “What’s going on? I don’t get it.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Katie practically spat. “It involves human emotions.”

  “Harper?” Luke advanced toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  Harper pressed her back against the fridge and raised her palms defensively.

  Ali, now clutching a lobster in each hand, inserted herself between Luke and a quivering Harper. “I don’t know who you are,” she said, not unkindly, “but I get the sense that Harper doesn’t want you coming too close. Maybe you and your friend should visit with Katie in another room.”

  “Harper, I’m so totally sorry—” Katie began, but Ali shooed them out. “Give her a chance to get herself together,” Ali whispered. “I’ll clean this mess up—call me if you need support.”

  “Thank you,” Katie managed to whisper.

  “What happened to all the furniture?” Lily asked, surveying the bare living room. “Is it out being cleaned or something?”

  “It’s just out,” Katie answered.

  Settling herself on the only place to perch, the low fireplace mantel, Lily crossed her long legs and patted the cold stone for Luke to sit next to her.

  Like a well-trained puppy, he obeyed.

  “Well,” Lily exhaled dramatically, “that didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped.”

  “Lily, what are you doing here?” Katie hissed, standing over her. “And how could you bring … him? Well, I guess neither of you knew. …” Katie sighed. Luke squirmed guiltily.

  Lily widened her eyes, affecting a wounded look. “I want to make up, Katie. You haven’t answered a single one of my calls, my e-mails, texts—nada. You act like I don’t even exist.”

  You should have thought of that two and a half months ago, Katie thought bitterly, her hands on her hips.

  “It wasn’t exactly easy to find you,” Lily complained, “just so you know. I went through a lot.”

  Not easy? Katie thought. It would have been impossible if not for the robbery and, probably, the big mouth of Taylor Ambrose.

  Lily whined, “Who is that girl, anyway, in the kitchen? What’s her saga?”

  “Harper.” They said it together—Katie angrily, Luke still in shock, softly.

  “Her name is Harper Jones,” Katie said, “and in case you didn’t get the subtext of the little drama, she and your boyfriend used to be involved. Very involved. Very recently.”

  Luke coughed self-consciously, unsure if he should confirm, deny, or bail.

  “Fine.” Lily brushed her lustrous hair back. “Now I know her name. But I don’t know why your thong is in a knot. I’m not some villain.”

  Katie stared at Luke. It wasn’t hard to see what Harper had fallen for. Luke Clearwater was obviously of mixed heritage. As in Harper’s case, it worked. Luke’s full lips, high, wide Johnny Depp cheekbones, and slight build hinted at an American Indian father (as did his last name). His height, swimming-pool-blue eyes, silky blond hair screamed Scandinavian. The total effect was admittedly doable—if you were into the whole soft-spoken sensitivity vibe.

  So what was Lily was doing with him? Lily was all about status conquests, jocks who rock, studs with style, popularity princes, and, lately, older guys just to piss off her parents.

  What Luke saw in Lily? Duh. Katie herself had shouted the reason to a house full of partygoers:

  Lily put out.

  “I like sex, so what?” she used to justify her behavior to Katie, who had cautioned selectivity. Lily had called her bluff: “Pul-eeze. Sex is currency with you. You’ll give it up, but only when you can get something you want badly enough in return. I’m not calculating like that.”

  Katie suddenly felt stupid standing over the treacherous twosome. She settled on the floor against the wall and folded her arms. She spoke to Luke. “You never told Lily about Harper?”

  Lily spoke for him. “Luke might’ve mentioned it. Did you, sweetie?” Lily ran her finger along his thigh. “If he said her name, it totally didn’t register. It’s not like she’s someone I even knew.”

  Katie’s stomach twisted. Once, she would have said the same exact thing.

  “Anyway, how were we supposed to know she was here? It’s not like you gave me a clue,” Lily challenged.

  She had a point, Katie supposed. Still, the damage was done. Katie couldn’t imagine what Harper was feeling right now. But her heart went out to her roommate.

  “So would you like us to leave?” Lily posed the obvious question.

  The sad truth was that Katie did not. She’d missed Lily desperately, their friendship, their “best of breed” lifestyle. That’s what she was fighting to hold on to! That’s what this summer was all about. If not for the Luke/Harper complication, she might have welcomed the olive branch visit, after a few grumbling minutes forgiven Lily, even asked for her (belated) help. Katie’s capacity for holding a grudge just wasn’t that large. Not unless there was something to be gained by withholding.

  Lily saw Katie caving. “So how ya like being seventeen so far?”

  Katie grimaced. “I barely noticed the date.” Which was a lie. Being alone (and still poor!) on her birthday made her sad, so she’d chosen not to think about it. If Plan A had panned out, she would’ve bagged a kick-ass boyfriend with cash and cache by now, would’ve worked out a way to recoup her old life, secure her future. There would have been a reason to celebrate.

  Lily nudged the shopping bag at her feet toward Katie. “Don’t you want to see what I got you?”

  Before Katie could answer, Luke rose. “I’ll go hang in the car. Probably better if you two talk without me.”

  Lily sprang to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You don’t mind, baby? You are sooo sensitive!” She kissed him openmouthed, way more suggestively than the scenario deserved. It was a very Lily moment.

  “You want to know what I’m doing with him,” Lily declared, like that was the most important of the million things on Katie’s list.

  “He’s hardly your type,” she acknowledged.

  Lily smiled wickedly. “Oh, but he is. I’m in a new phase, and he’s just so young and delicious. So … mmmm … innocent. So summer. Y’know?”

  Katie did, nauseatingly. Lily had lured this boy, was toying with him, playing the bad girl to his adoring naïf/virgin. She was test-driving a new power role, nothing more.

  “I’m teaching him everything he needs to know,” she confirmed with a wink. “It’s so fulfilling. And—bonus: He writes me love poems.”

  “You’re going to dump him after the summer,” Katie stated.

  Lily shrugged. “He goes to Boston Latin. Public school. What do you think? And don’t go all righteous on me. Denial does not become you—you’d do the same exact thing.”

  Katie reddened. “I have something more serious on my mind just now. Hello? Do you even remember why I’m here?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then how could you just leave me stranded like that? And then, show up suddenly, expecting me to forget all about it?”

  Lily shrugged, and pulled a cigarette from her bag. “Don’t put me on the defense, Katie. You know it doesn’t work with me. Luke showed up at my door one day, delivering pizza. And what can I say? You saw him. It was lust at first sight. And the … ahem … heart”—Lily patted her heart, but cast her eyes in a more southerly direction—“wants what it wants.”

  “That’s your reason for abandoning me? You wanted to get laid?”

  Now it was Lily’s turn to pump up the volume. “How long have we been friends, Katie? And when, during the entire duration of our friendship, have we not put guys ahead of our plans? It’s unspoken, but it rules: A hookup with a guy trumps plans you had with a girlfriend. I thought you’d understand.”

  “I didn’t just hear that, Lily, because if I did, I don’t even know you. This is not the same as canceling a trip to the mall for a hookup. There’s a little more at stake here.”

  Lily leaned in toward her. “Don’t push this,
Katie.”

  “Don’t push it? Consider yourself shoved. How could you turn your back on me like that?”

  Dramatically, Lily lit her cigarette and inhaled. On the exhale, she said, “Maybe I gave your whole situation some thought. And maybe I realized that this summer, this whole getting-out-of-Boston thing was all about you. All about The Kick. And not for nothing, Katie? Maybe I got tired of being ‘The Side Kick.’”

  Katie gasped. She’d never known Lily was jealous of her. And that envy had led her to screw Katie the very first time she really, really needed a friend.

  Katie sprang to her feet and yanked the cigarette from Lily’s grasp just as the girl was exhaling, causing a coughing fit. She threw it into the fireplace.

  Lily recovered quickly. “Look, I know you think your life is about to be over, your dad’s business dealings and all that. But hello? You’re Katie Charlesworth. I knew you’d figure something out. With or without me, you’d deal. So it’s not like I was worried about you.”

  Katie thought her head would explode. She’d wanted to know how Lily had found her—had someone blabbed?—but at that moment, she was too enraged to care.

  “Anyway, I really thought you’d have forgiven me by now,” Lily said softly.

  Katie barely heard her; she was screaming now. “How could you have the gall to think I would forgive you? You walked out on me the first time something serious in my life happened. After promising you would help. You swore! And you changed your mind, left me flat, because all this time you’ve been jealous of me? Impeccable timing, bitch!”

  Oh shit, Katie was crying. Bawling.

  Harper Hears Some Tuff Truths

  Harper’s brain curled up into a fetal position. It would not allow her to process what she’d just seen. Unfortunately, she couldn’t erase it either.

  Luke—her Luke.

  With Lily—Katie’s bff Lily (that figured).