Cameo (15 page)

“You have problems, you know that?”

“I saw her talking in the bushes to the girl in the white hat,” I said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Forget that! I know you wouldn't believe that,” he said.

“How could I not believe what I saw?” I said.

“You're too smart for that,” he said.

“Uh, I know but …” I started.

Then, suddenly, the moment he braked at the red light, he kissed me. I pulled away first. We drove for the next sixty seconds in silence. That kiss was kind of yummy.

“No more arguing, no more complaining. Tell me where you want to go,” he said.

An hour later, I was prepared to rock out my role as Bonnie, when I let my Clyde lead the way through the mall to the coffee house. I was ready for a shakedown—though I hadn't gotten around to telling Jason exactly why we were there and who we were looking for. There was too much daydreaming and kissing going on before we could even make it out of the car. On the escalator up to the second floor, I'd had to clear my mind.

There was only one person we could count on to rat out our opposition, and that was the wrongfully accused Roger. The coffee house was jumping with high school kids, a few from our school. There were a few college girls with their school sweatshirts on, pretending to meet about some class. But I could hear their whispers. They were secretly dishing on guys in their dorms. I guess that would be me next year.

The coffee house was nothing unusual, your typical commercial coffee place with a standard layout, lots of tan and brown colors everywhere, a few coffee beans up on the wall, quasi-comfortable chairs sparsely scattered about, and too many versions of espresso to count.

“Are you going to get something?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. That and prowl around for Cindy and Roger.” They were probably sitting in some corner hiding behind the cover of the business section, all three feet of the town's clumsy, double-folded newspaper.

Jason got in line to order. “Don't worry, I got this.”

“Okay. Meet me in the back with a mocha latte, extra foam, babe.” I felt bad not telling him the whole plan, but I needed to wait and investigate further before the big reveal, seeing as how Plan A was a complete bust.

I couldn't stop smiling while I checked every crevice for a multicolored, checkered shirt. So this was kinda like our first date. I mean, he did pick me up. We'd had our first kiss, second, third, and well … hmm. He had tried to save me from danger, and now he was ordering our first lattes together.

Aha! There was a guy. He was kind of on the lanky side. He was wearing a solid black T-shirt, reading a motorcycle magazine. Though none of this fit the scenario I had in my head, I had to check out all the leads. I had checked almost every inch of the place. This was the only possibility so far. I tried to mysteriously pull up a chair to his table. But the chair I selected had something stuck to the bottom of its legs. When I pulled it over to the table, it knocked and squeaked the whole way.

“Five-dollar lattes, and they can't afford to get a decent chair,” I complained under my breath. So much for making a stealthy entrance. The guy sitting across from me slammed the bike magazine onto the table to reveal a short Caesar haircut, clean, dark, arched eyebrows and … contacts. But he looked like Roger! He was a much better-looking, clean-cut version.

“Roger?” I hissed as if I'd suddenly discovered he was the secret evil villain in a fairy tale.

Apparently that wasn't the reaction he was after. From the look in his eyes, I could see that the virtuous, sweet Roger had left the building.

“What the heck are you doing here? Two hours! I've been sitting here like a statue for two hours waiting for her. And she bailed on me,” he said.

“Ummm.” I wasn't sure what to tell him. I wasn't going to lie for Cindy.

“What are you? The messenger?” he asked. Since when did Roger operate on a short fuse? Things were all so very wrong. It was like the full moon was causing people to go mad.

Where was Jason with my sugary latte? I didn't have a plan, but if I did have one I would've scrapped it anyhow. This was completely unexpected and not in the thrilling, kind-of-make-you-blush way. In the blink of an eye, Roger had turned into a metrosexual!

“Roger, what happened to you?” I asked.

“Oh, please stop whispering like this is the goddamn CIA,” he said.

This was something out of a cartoon, in which the innocent baby in the stroller opens his mouth and starts talking like a beer-guzzling thirty-year-old. Roger took a look at the large black coffee he'd been nursing. He knocked back the last couple of sips in one gulp, like it was a shot.

“Don't worry. I'm not with them. I'm part of MIA,” he said.

“MI?” I said. I knew he wasn't trying to play me with my life on the line. “You listen and listen well.” I leaned in close to him like one of those TV police interrogators. “I defied the police's orders and ducked my mom, who is traveling cross-country on a red-eye all because of this nonsense. Frankly, I don't care what kind of metamorphosis you've gone through. I came to get my life back. I want to know who's at the top,” I said.

“Why? Your best friend didn't tell you?” he asked.

“She named a name. But I need more. I want you to name a name. And then I'm going to ask you for an address. It's plain and simple,” I said.

Roger leaned back in his chair and pulled out a cigar. “Mind if I light up?” he asked. I snatched that damn cigar right out of his mouth.

“This is a latte bar, not a sleazy joint off some dingy, beaten route someplace. And, no, it is not cool to smoke. Haven't you seen those lung cancer commercials in which people have to breathe through a hole in their neck?”

“No. I'm not allowed to watch television on weeknights,” he said.

“I don't have time for this nonsense. Cough up the info, and hurry up.”

Roger looked at his watch. Then he moved his coffee cup from the left side of the table to the right. I was trying my best to be patient. But when I saw him twiddling his thumbs, it was the last straw.

“Do I look like I'm here on a date? I came for the information! So give it to me,” I said.

Now why did I have to go and say that? Maybe subconsciously I wanted to be alone for the rest of my natural life.

“No one would mistake this for a date,” the sexiest voice on earth said from behind me. “Your extra-foam mocha latte.” Jason dropped my coffee on the table in front of me. A piping-hot drop flew onto Roger's face.

“You will pay for that,” Roger threatened.

“See, babe, this is Roger. He thinks he had a date with Cindy,” I said.

“Didn't she say she was going to see Peter?” Jason winked at me to let me know he was playing along.

Roger's breathing started to get heavy. His eyes enlarged. Oddly, I still didn't find him remotely scary.

“What is MIA, anyway?” I asked.

Roger looked at Jason cockeyed. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. It was painstakingly apparent he didn't want to spill the beans.

“Look, Roger, give up the information,” Jason said.

“I wouldn't be here if I really didn't need to know,” I said. For a second, I could see a glimmer of the old, compassionate Roger.

Roger threw his hands out and knocked his black coffee all over the table. Jason used the napkins he had in his hands to clean it up.

“I'll get some more napkins,” I said.

“I can get them,” Jason said.

“No, I'll get them.” Roger jumped out of his seat and bolted for the door. Jason and I looked at each other. I speedwalked out of the shop and caught up with Roger on his way to the escalator. I grabbed his arm.

“What's the deal, Roger?” I asked. Roger scanned the area. He eyed every person on the escalator. Then he grabbed my arm and led me down the restroom hallway.

“I shouldn't tell you this, but I know you're clean. However …” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“For reasons I cannot say, I could not tell you in front of the
basketball player.
”

“Can you tell me now?”

“Mathlete Investigation Association.”

“MIA, you mean?”

“Uh, you call yourself a member of the National Scholars Association?”

Apparently I wasn't nerdy enough for Roger. “So, you're still a nerd?” I asked. There was hope. Everyone hadn't gone crazy.

“I prefer ‘academically enhanced.'”

I saw Jason out of the corner of my eye past the dimly lit restroom hallway. He was probably looking for me. I moved into a part of the corridor where we could not be seen.

“Roger, we get the same grades. Cut the act. What is with this look?”

“I, too, care about prom. I, too, need a prom date. Is there a need to spell it out?”

Jason walked past the corridor again in the opposite direction. Since we were in the basement of the mall, there was no cell phone reception. I would have to go find him soon.

“Tell me now. I have to go. Who is at the top of the popular society?”

“What do I get out of this?”

“I have someone that might be able to go with you to prom.”

“Promise?”

“I can't promise you a date, but looking like this you shouldn't have a problem getting a date if you drop the fake bad-boy act and just be the same nice guy you were.”

“You think so?”

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't think so,” I said.

“Thanks.” Roger smiled.

“The info?” I asked.

“The brains of the operation is Michelle,” he said.

“I knew it! What is her address?”

“Ten-Ten Forelawn, right off Coldwell.”

I hugged Roger. “Thanks!”

He acted a little shaken—like he had never been touched by a girl before or something. I started to run down the hallway.

“One more thing,” he yelled.

I stopped cold in my tracks.

“There's just this one other thing. …” His hands were shaking. “Cindy …” he whispered.

“Cindy?”

“She's co-president of the society.”

“Nia!” Jason called for me at the end of hallway.

My worst fear had materialized. I ran to Jason. Why did it seem like everything was so different in each moment? Plus, now Jason believed in Cindy as my friend. I couldn't bring myself to tell him.

“Why were you hiding here?”

“I wasn't hiding! I got the info we need,” I said. He looked at me suspiciously.

“Babe, I had to follow him. We've come too far to just let him bolt out of the coffee shop. Now I know our next stop,” I continued.

Jason put his arm around me. It felt good to know at least somebody had my back. “So how did you get him to tell you?” Jason asked.

“I threatened to turn my boyfriend loose on him if he didn't give me what I needed,” I said.

“That's crazy. Did you really say that?” he asked. I didn't know what to say. I just raised an eyebrow. “'Cause that's kind of hot.” He kissed my neck.

I tapped him on the butt. “Stay focused!” I said.

We had places to go and people to expose! One item was all an undercover starlet needed to even the score. And I had it: My trusty camera phone with voice recorder was going to save the day. It all seemed so simple in my head.

In the car on our way to Forelawn, my mother called. “My mother's plane lands in ten minutes,” I said.

“What kind of flight was she on?”

“Well, it's almost ten. A nonstop would take about that time to get back to Long Island,” I said.

“So we have ten minutes,” he said.

“Basically. My grandparents' place should only be a couple of minutes from here,” I said. I dialed my grandmother. “Hi, Nana, I'm on my way home. I had to take care of something. … I'm fine. … I know. I have to go. … Okay … I will. Bye.”

“What do we want from her?” Jason asked.

“Answers! Like when the hell this is going to be over and why,” I said.

When Jason opened my car door, he looked a little worried.

“What? I can take her,” I said.

He laughed.

“I like that.”

“You like what?”

“Your laugh. It's real. You know sometimes people laugh, but it doesn't feel like they really think it's funny,” I said.

“So you like to keep it real,” he said.

“Always.” I smiled.

We approached the gate, me and my soldier. Out of nowhere, my cell started beeping. Cindy had sent me a text message.

“Don't do anything stupid. Things are complicated now, but they are going to stop. I am not home so don't go to my house unless you climb through my room window,” she texted.

What was the prospect of that happening?

“Turn your cell phone off,” I told Jason.

“I'll put it on silent,” he said.

“Good idea.” I put mine on silent too.

We walked around the house; there was no one outside.

“What if we just walked up to the front door?” Jason asked.

“No! I never saw James Bond doing that,” I said.

“I think you might be wrong,” he said.

I was so caught up in trying to figure out if he was calling me wrong, I didn't even notice him leading me by the hand up the grand, rolling driveway entrance. We walked right through the front door into the foyer of an old, Hollywood-style mansion. I hated Michelle, but what made it even worse was that her house was gorgeous.

“I can't believe that just worked,” I whispered.

“I know.” Jason popped the collar on his polo shirt.

I laughed under my breath. We stood there, asking to be noticed while we pondered our next move.

“
Senora
Michelle,” a short Hispanic woman called from the back of the house.

Jason and I ducked into what looked like a formal dinning room with a marble-top dining table for ten. The interior designing was impeccable. Who cared? We had to get out of there and allay this stalking issue. The woman's voice grew closer. We retreated to the back of the room. Jason quietly opened the door to the kitchen.