Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (122 page)

Sienna had been
the princess. My father called her Princess all the time. There was no way she
would be sitting in a fog during a crisis like this one. She would have had
everything organized by now.

I felt like I
could not even blink without a colossal effort.

The next knock on
the door was a rapid, insistent rap. Darla leapt to answer it and this time she
pulled the door open. Alice Bonton slipped in our dorm room and locked the door
behind her.

"She hasn't
called her parents yet. She hasn't even moved," Darla told Alice.

"Quinn,
honey, we need to call your parents. Let's do it now so they can come here and
get you," my advisor said.

I shook my head.
Somehow this was all my advisor's fault. If I had not answered the phone call
from her, none of this ever would have happened. Sienna would still be alive
and studying her night away. And, I would be slipping into the world of
Dark Flag
with Darla at the gamer party.

"I'm going to
dial the phone and hand it to you, alright?" Ms. Alice asked.

"What I am
supposed to say?" I croaked. "They are never going to believe
me."

"Believe
you?" she and Darla both asked at the same time.

"Sienna would
never do something like that," I said. The images came back to me and the
room in front of me faded away to darkness. Every time I tried to think of why,
how Sienna could do that to herself, a giant chasm opened in my mind.

"Do you want
me to tell them?" my advisor asked.

The phone was
ringing and my mouth went dry. I nodded just as I heard my father's voice.

"Hello, Mr.
Thomas? I'm sorry to be calling so late. This is Alice Bonton from UCLA. I'm
your daughter Quinn's advisor. What? No, she hasn't done anything. Quinn is
fine. I'm actually calling about Sienna."

There was a long
pause on our end. I assumed my father had launched into a righteous lecture
about the rudeness of the late night phone call. He was a busy man, probably
due in court early the next morning, and he did not put up with such
thoughtlessness from people.

If I had called,
the lecture would have been the same.

"Yes, I did
say I was calling about Sienna," Ms. Alice said.

And that was the
difference. When it registered the phone call was about my sister, my father
changed completely. I could almost hear him politely giving my advisor leave to
speak, even though she stood a few feet away from me.

"There is no
easy way to tell you this, but there has been an accident and Sienna Thomas is
dead," Ms. Alice said. She looked as if she had fumbled a live hand
grenade. "No, you're right, I should be more specific. Your daughter was
found in her dorm room bathtub. She had cut her wrists. She was pronounced dead
at the scene."

My father was a
lawyer and must have switched into default mode because Ms. Alice spent the
next ten minutes giving short, factual answers to his questions.

Finally, she
cleared her throat. "Sir, I have your other daughter here. Wouldn't you
like to speak with her?" Ms. Alice did not wait, she just handed me the
phone with a barely disguised expression of relief.

He was still
talking when I took the phone. "I'm going to need the name of the
detective and the uniformed officers. I have her roommate's contact information
somewhere."

"Daddy?"
I asked.

"I'm going to
have to lie to your mother until this is all cleared up. She can't handle news
like this. We'll tell her Sienna was hurt in a car accident. I'll be there in
the morning, Quinn. 8 am sharp in your lobby," he said.

The line went
dead. I dropped the phone on the floor and lay down on the couch. Darla pulled
my comforter off my bed and laid it over me as I curled up in a ball.

Somehow, my body
woke up at 7:30 am. On autopilot, I showered and dressed and walked downstairs
to meet my father.

He was early and
impatiently waiting. "Did you talk to her roommate last night?"

"No."

"But you went
to her room? The detective said you were there," my father asked.

"Yes. I saw,
I saw…" I stopped and clung to the mailboxes in the foyer.

My father pulled
open the front door. He then grabbed my elbow and escorted me out in front of
him. "We're going to the coroner's. Didn't you tell me you went there with
your class? That's my girl, never flinching when there's something useful to
learn."

"That was
Sienna," I said.

My father scowled
as he opened the car’s passenger side door for me. He scowled all the way to
the county coroner's office. He wiped it away when the coroner met us at the
door. The two men shook hands.

"Has the
death certificate been finished?" my father asked.

"Yes, sir. My
findings corroborate with the detective's conclusion. Her death has been ruled
a suicide," the coroner said.

For once, all the
air seemed to be sucked from my father. I noticed how he had lost weight. There
was more gray in his hair. The normal command he had over any room was gone and
he followed the coroner without another word.

We stood in front
of a plated glass window and stared aimlessly into a small room. White tiles
reached halfway up the wall before giving over to an institutional gray color.
Two orderlies pushed a gurney into the room. On the coroner's signal, one
lifted back the white sheet.

There was Sienna,
gray against the bleached white of the sheet. Her golden hair was combed back
from her face and still damp from the medical examiner's administrations.

"Sir?"
the coroner called as I swayed.

My father clamped
onto my arm to steady me. "She was going to be a surgeon. She never
flinched, never fainted." His eyes never left Sienna's face. "Her
sister was going to follow in her footsteps but no one could catch up to
her."

"You've had a
terrible shock," the coroner said to me. "Would you like to sit
down?"

"You're not
going to faint are you? Surgeons don't faint," my father said.

"I'm in the
nursing program."

He snorted.
"Sienna was going to be a surgeon."

I wrenched my arm
free from my father's grip and sat on the bench the coroner had shown me. Anger
burned in my chest, and I rubbed at the pain. My father had decided when we
were still toddlers that his daughters would be doctors. Sienna had thrived
under the challenge, basking in my father's approval as she excelled.

I had always felt
constricted, the square peg in a round hole. There was the pressure of his
imperial expectations, the way he discussed it with everyone as if it was a
foregone conclusion and not a hard achievement.

Had
the pressure finally been too much for Sienna?
I wondered.

My older sister
had her ups and downs. Black rages and immobilizing bouts of depression. Sunny
cheerfulness that lit up entire worlds and an infectious joy in her work. My
father said it was a sign of a brilliant and passionate mind. Sienna worked
hard, then needed to recover. Then, her love of the medical field would pull
her back up.

It had always been
strange to me that Sienna never recognized her own symptoms. As soon as the
thought crossed my mind, I pushed it away. There were certain topics that were
never touched in our house.

"Did you tell
Mother?" I asked.

My father finally
turned away from the window. "No. She was not feeling well this morning. I
told her you needed my help and that I would be back this afternoon."

My mother would
never have believed it was Sienna that needed help.

The orderlies
pulled the curtains on the small room. The coroner led my father to a counter
to fill out the remaining paperwork. I sat on the bench and stared at the box
of tissues left on the opposite end. It had barely been touched.

Did
they replace it often or were most people that sat here like me?
I wondered. The tears still would not come; they couldn't fight past the
numbness. Somehow this was a joke, a prank. Sienna was not dead. She was going
to burst through the door at any moment and make me admit I hated my major.

After all, nurses
don't faint at the sight of dead bodies.

#

We
did not say a word the nearly four-hour drive home. My parents lived about
fifteen minutes away from the Las Vegas Strip in an affluent neighborhood
called Summerlin. I felt the weight of exhaustion and grief the entire drive,
but I could not take my eyes off the arid and flat landscape.

My father pulled
into the driveway of our six-bedroom house. The Juliet balcony overlooked the
driveway and behind the window, I saw the shadow of my mother. She disappeared
back into her bedroom suite. I knew she would not meet us at the door, full of
concern. If she was not feeling well it might be 24 hours before she appeared
downstairs.

Once inside, I
headed straight for my bedroom and curled up in the middle of my four poster
bed. For a moment, I felt like the time in high school when I got sick at camp
and had to get picked up early. Sienna was still there having fun, and I was
stuck in our thick-carpeted, quiet house by myself. I clung to that bittersweet
memory, the idea that Sienna would be home soon with fun summer stories to
tell.

When I woke up,
the light was a hot glow, but I could tell by the shadows that it was late
afternoon. I lay still and wished the nightmare would end. Now, awake felt like
the bad dream and asleep was my only relief.

I could not hide
out forever, so I brushed my hair, tied it back in a loose ponytail, and headed
downstairs. I reached the last step and heard my mother call from the kitchen.

"Darling,
have you seen the Bloody Mary mix? Oh, never mind, I found it," she
trilled.

I walked into the
kitchen to find her dancing around the kitchen island, mixing a dark red Bloody
Mary and filling it with an array of vegetables. "A light snack?" I
asked.

"Oh, Quinn,
dear, Daddy said you were home. He told me you've been skipping classes lately,"
my mother said.
 

I poured a hefty
shot of vodka into a tall glass and mixed my own Bloody Mary. My mother stabbed
radishes onto toothpicks and affixed them to a celery stalk, a makeshift rose
garnish. She hesitated as she handed me one, forgetting for the moment that I
was of drinking age.

"It’s your
sister that doesn't like these," my mother said.

"She's not, I
mean, she was not a big drinker," I observed. I held the glass to my lips,
unable to drink for the lump in my throat.

"And yet
she's forever going to parties. How does she manage it?" my mother asked.
"I still don't understand how that girl can balance her surgical studies,
a busy social life, and that boyfriend of hers."

"Maybe she
couldn’t handle it," I said, my voice wavering. "Maybe it was too
much for her and someone should have told her to slow down, take it easy, and
not put so much pressure on herself."

"Please, I
know you don't spend a lot of time with your sister, but you know what Sienna's
like. She can handle anything." My mother brushed back her blonde hair and
took a long, satisfied sip.

"Daddy said
you weren't feeling well," I said.

Her eyes went dim,
deflecting the question. "Oh, you know, I just felt a little out of sorts,
but now I'm fine."

I eyed the drink
in her hand. "Did you take something?"

"Quinn,
please, what kind of question is that? I didn't need to take anything. I just
feel better. Now, enough talk about me. When are you going to find yourself a
boyfriend? I'm sure your sister's boyfriend knows lots of eligible guys,"
my mother said.

"It’s not
like we can go on double dates," I said. The drink was suddenly too heavy.
I set it down on the counter and slumped into one of the swiveling bar stools
next to the kitchen island.

"Why not? I
know Sienna's busy, but she can make time to set you up. You need someone. I'll
give her a call," my mother said.

As she reached for
her phone, the realization crashed over me: my father had not yet told her. I
was so frozen with dread that I sat dumbfounded as she called Sienna's number.

"Hello, dear,
I know you're busy, but take just a minute to listen to a message from your
mommy. I've got Quinn here and she is moping around. Honestly, she looks as if
someone's died. I'm hoping you have time for one of your wonderful sister
make-overs. Maybe Owen could find her a date for this weekend? You could double
for dinner and then split up? Think about it, darling. You know how she depends
on you. Love! Kisses!"

I still could not
move when my father walked into the kitchen. He was just as shocked as I was
when my mother bounced over and kissed him on the cheek. "Barbara, I
thought you were still upstairs. You're feeling better? Did you take
something?"