Adelaide Confused (22 page)

My fingers shook as I
rifled through the closet looking for my slate gray shorts. I
impatiently dropped a handful of clothes before crossing the loft
to continue my search in the armoire. My movements were sharp and
precise, channeling my frustration.

Earlier, during the ride
back from Jekyll, Francesca had lost it. As Reed’s charm withdrew
so did her buoyant personality, leaving behind a bitter crust.
Throughout the car ride I felt her stinging from what she perceived
as yet another Reed rejection. And like Karen, she chose to blame
me.

The ghost dog hopped around
my ankles, moving like a wriggling sausage. Even its perk couldn’t
lighten my mood. I stepped through it to kick a squeaky toy across
the floor. “Go fetch,” I ordered, wanting it to go away. Obligingly
it scrambled with haste, pouncing on its quarry.

I then noticed a scrap of
gray poking out from beneath my bed. I stalked over and snatched it
up. Sure enough, it was my missing pair of shorts. I knew I hadn’t
stowed them there, and wondered if the ghost had dragged them
under. It didn’t seem likely. He had been turning solid more
frequently, but only in spurts that lasted no longer than a
wink.

I hauled them on with a bit
more force than necessary. They weren’t khakis, but they would do.
Plus they matched the shirt Francesca had loaned me. Admittedly it
wasn’t polo, but it had the same stuck-up summer feel.

I knew she wouldn’t want me
to continue wearing her shirt, not while we were fighting. She’d
probably tell me to take it off, stuff it down my throat and choke.
Fighting with Francesca wasn’t something I was familiar with,
neither was it something I particularly enjoyed.

She had glared at me
through the rearview mirror, demanding, “What do the two of you do
when you’re alone together?”

“
Usually we argue,” I’d
admitted easily.

“
What do you have to argue
about? You hardly know each other.”

“I know him well enough to know he’s an
asshole.”

Her anger had swelled. “You
don’t care do you?” Her eyes had narrowed in the mirror’s
reflection. “You don’t care that I’m your friend, that I’ve put up
with your moody, antisocial bullshit. That I stayed with you all
those times you broke down and cried for no reason, you don’t even
care!”

I’d been trying to fight
off the anger, separate myself. But then she had to start
humiliating me by throwing all the things we never spoke of in my
face. I struggled for a response, something to say, but she hadn’t
finished ranting. “All you had to do was put in a good word or
invite me along. But you don’t, you don’t want me with Reed. You
want him for yourself!”

Stephen, who’d happily
called ‘shot gun’ just a few minutes before was so uncomfortable in
the passenger seat that I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d
clawed at the glass to escape. And I, I had been angry. I was
willing to excuse a lot—I knew the charm’s effect—but I couldn’t
stand how selfish she’d become, subjecting Stephen to her pity
party. “Enough!” I had blurted sharply. “He’s not interested in
you. You said it yourself that he’s involved with someone else. So
stop hitting on him, and stop blaming me when he rejects
you.”

No one had said anything
after that, but the silence spoke volumes. Francesca might have
held her tongue, but contrite she was not.

It had been past noon by
the time I got home. I was late before I even started to get ready.
Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I let it trail down my back as I
scattered my bangs into place. Good enough for a bunch of corporate
hosers.

My car made a horrid
retching noise as I put it into park. Add the door’s metallic
squawking and I’d attracted quite a bit of attention from the
loitering yuppies.

Reed wasn’t waiting for me
at the gate, unsurprising as I was nearly an hour late. Even if I
was willing to forgive this transgression, it was still a hassle.
The bouncer (for lack of a better word) held a list of all the
Wallace Enterprise employees invited to the event. I was not on
it.

I heehawed until the club
was called, insisting they speak with Reed Wallace himself. As it
was Reed who rented the club for these events, it only took his
say-so to get me inside. It would have taken less than that to put
me on the list. The oversight was intentional. No doubt this was
Reed’s choice of punishment for my late arrival, and it had not
gone unnoticed. Soon the freshly pressed housewives would be
whispering about Reed Wallace and his latest trollop. ‘Did you
hear?’ one would say. ‘He left her waiting at the gate for over an
hour.’ I ground my teeth at the thought. Reed had just topped my
shit-list. Again.

Eventually I was let
through, and when entering the foyer the first person I saw was Tim
Beckett. He wandered out of the auxiliary ballroom, hair awry and
pants too big. Harried to see me, he turned on his heel, sprinting
for the men’s room.

“
Wiener,” I muttered as I
watched him run off. I’d made him uncomfortable from the get-go,
though why, I wasn’t sure. Whatever Reed’s excuse for him, Tim
Beckett was still a suspicious character.

I went the way he had come
from, entering the big room on my right. Many of the tables had
been removed and only a few people, those trying to escape the
heat, stood around to chat in the cavernous space. Three sets of
French doors were kept open, leading to the massive half-circle
balcony where Reed’s employees were holding court.

Outside, tables were
scattered in clumps. Women dressed in pastel tennis wear sat eating
fruit beneath the cloister of their sun umbrellas. Men stood in
golf shorts and boat shoes, laughing and bragging. People came and
went using the stairway that led to the grounds below where they
could reach the amenities.

I honed in on the buffet
table and wandered the long way to get there. Attitudes weren’t
subdued like at the dinner event. This was a picnic and people
wanted to have fun. Amusement, excitement, pleasure—they weren’t
the worst to feel, but they swelled inside of me like a bomb
waiting to detonate.

I loaded a plate full of
food and took a seat, turning my back to the smorgasbord of people.
The illusion of being alone helped, it was better not to see
them.

One by one or in small
groups, everyone eventually made their way to the buffet table. Not
only could I pick the emotions off them, but it was the prime
location for eavesdropping as well. Mostly I was bored, struggling
to stay attentive. But I did notice a definite trend in topics. The
women talked about their children’s accomplishments and various
charity events they’d either attended or organized. The men talked
a little about sports, boating and such, but it was mostly
business. The exception to this was Eleanor Bryant.

I heard her voice at my
back, but it was the lack of emotion that I recognized. “It’s good
that you caught him on the island. When he’s in the city it’s hard
for him to find the time.”

“So I’ve heard,” another female responded.
Her emotions were faint, but there was an icy detachment about her
that was both familiar and repugnant.

Eleanor asked, “What’s the
angle for your story?”

“
Something relevant to
investors,” was the vague reply. Her disdain for Eleanor was
evident to me, as was her contempt of their conversation. But these
are things only an empath would pick up on as she was both polite
and conversational.

Wanting to glimpse the
biotch I turned, tucking my chin to my shoulder and peeping past.
She was leaning against the balcony’s stone balustrade, half
blocked by Eleanor, but even so I knew her. She still looked like a
school teacher, a very professional school teacher. She wore a
black pencil skirt that went just past the knee and an ivory jabot
blouse. She matched Eleanor’s look, the two both out of place,
ready for the boardroom and not scheduled recreation. They even had
matching chignons.

As if she knew I was
watching, she leaned past Eleanor to stare straight at me. We
locked eyes. There was recognition in hers, but not
surprise.

Raising her voice so I knew
I was being addressed, she asked, “Taking an afternoon off from the
grueling hospitality business?” It was meant to sound playful, but
I felt the intended stab.

Having run out of food, I
had no reason to skulk. So I stood, prepared to join their
conversation and mingle a bit. “Something like that,” I
said.

Eleanor turned, her body
language inviting me into their group. “Good to see you again,
Adelaide. I take it you’ve already met Ms. Thompson.”

“
No, not formally,” I said,
reaching out to shake her hand. She took it, her gaze skating over
my face and down my body. She studied me as if she could see
through me, it was creepy. She was creepy. I had to forcefully
ignore the impulse to wipe my hand after she released
it.

“
Raina is writing a piece
on Wallace Enterprise. She’s hoping for an interview with Reed,”
Eleanor explained. Turning to Raina, she continued, “And Adelaide
is—”

I was curious to hear how Eleanor would
explain my presence, but Reed interrupted, sidling up unexpectedly
and snaking a hand around my waist. “My girlfriend,” he finished,
greeting me with a kiss to the temple.

Ignoring the elbow in his ribs, he smiled at
Raina and casually reached out to shake her hand. “The journalist I
presume?”

I took perverse
satisfaction from the fact that Miss Raina Thompson was not immune
to Reed’s charm. She gave him a piercingly thorough examination,
with looks so intense I thought she might devour him on the spot.
“Yes,” she agreed, pumping his hand, “the journalist.” She actually
smiled. “I was hoping for an interview. I haven’t managed to
confirm an appointment yet. Your assistant, she’s cagey. But I’d be
more than willing to drop by your home whenever it’s convenient.
The interview shouldn’t take more than an hour or so of your
time.”

“
No need,” he said easily.
“I’ve been meeting with my employees at the hotel all week. I’ll
just have Karen fit you in.”

“
She’s not staying at the
Crowne,” I interjected.

Raina spared me a glance.
It wasn’t friendly. “The Crowne didn’t have any rooms to spare,”
she agreed.

“
If you’re here on behalf
of Wallace Enterprise, then you should have a room. I’ll take care
of it,” he offered.

“
What’s wrong with
Sterling’s?” I asked innocently enough, but I’d left him no right
answer.

He gave a roguish grin,
like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothing’s wrong
with it,” he said, giving my waist a squeeze, “it’s charming.” His
smile turned sincere, sharp blue eyes laughing at the pun only we
would understand.

Watching us intently, Raina
was more interested with our interplay than she’d been about her
own work. “Coming here to the club must be a nice treat for you,”
she said with venom.

Reed spoke before I thought
up a scathing reply. “On the contrary,” he said affectionately,
nuzzling my hair with his chin. “I had to beg her to
come.”

I was about to add that
money had been exchanged, with blackmail involved too. But before I
had the chance to say a single word the bottom of my stomach
dropped out, and at the risk of sounding dramatic, my world fell
apart.

On the walkway at ground
level, not ten feet from the stone railing, Lucas stood immobile.
He watched me, not Reed or anyone around me, just me. His face was
an expressionless mask, and I sensed not even a hint of emotion.
The moment dragged on. I felt caught, unable to move, to even
breathe beneath his intense stare. And then he turned and stalked
away.

Released from the trap of
that terrible moment things jumped back into motion. Sounds were
seemingly louder than the seconds before, and the emotions came
rushing to swamp me. I turned and ran, ducking through the throng
and hurrying for the stairs. I jumped the last three and turned so
sharply my feet went skidding. I didn’t see him as I ran, but
figured he was heading for the parking lot out front. And when I
made it to the gate I saw his tires kicking up dust as his old Ford
Bronco four by four traveled down the road, and away from
me.

The situation felt surreal.
It was too unlikely to be more than a dream, or a nightmare really.
I mean, what was Lucas doing at a country club anyway? And what had
he seen? That was the question that continued to roll through my
mind. What had Lucas seen? Me in Reed’s arms? Obviously, but had he
seen Reed kiss my hair, nuzzle it? Had he heard Reed claim I was
his girlfriend? I replayed the conversation, picking apart the
nuances, and then I imagined Lucas watching the whole thing. To say
I was dismayed would be a gross understatement.

Reed caught me getting into
my car as I prepared to give chase. “What are you doing?” he
asked.

“
Something came up,” I said
breathlessly over my shoulder. “It’s important. I have to
go.”

He grabbed the door before
I could pull it closed. “More important than the work you’re doing
for me here?”

I felt certain it was, but
I doubted Reed would agree. “I need to take care of it now,” I
answered.