Secret Society (17 page)

A
fter lunch, Lauren met up with Alejandro in the back gardens of the Southampton house, near the croquet court. “Can we get out of here?” she said. “This place scares me. I already said good-bye to Phoebe and Nick.”

Alejandro's parents were renting a place nearby for the season, and he asked Lauren to follow him there. She was borrowing an extra car, an older Volvo that belonged to her mother's friend Madeline, so she followed Alejandro, who was driving his father's Jaguar. They arrived at the house, pulling into the gravel driveway. “My parents are away for the rest of the day,” he said. “The place is ours.”

The house the Callejas were renting was a boxy white palace—more like something out of South Beach than Southampton—that was filled with mid-century modern furniture.
Out back, there was a heated swimming pool and a hot tub that emptied into it from a height of five feet, creating a bubbling, churning pool. Steam rose up from it, as Alejandro said it was kept at eighty degrees, year-round.

“Want to go swimming?” he said.

Lauren blushed. “I don't have a suit.”

He dragged her outside, grinning. “Neither do I.” He started throwing off his clothes, and for a moment she thought he was going to go in naked. But he stopped at his briefs—they were, it seemed, the skinniest micro-briefs Lauren had ever seen—and jumped in, executing a perfect dive into the frothy bubbles, his legs leaving barely a splash before they disappeared underwater.

Lauren shrugged and stripped down to her underwear. Maybe this was what they needed: something fun to balance out all the insanity. She jumped into the water, bobbing up next to him. Alejandro pressed a button on the floating remote in the pool, and music came out of the underwater speakers. The water enveloped them, hugging them, saving them from the madness that they had left behind at the house.

“Sorry, it's not my music,” he said. “The people we're renting from left their iPod here.”

Lauren shrugged. “I love it. Like an underwater concert.” It was playing a remix of the Rolling Stones' “Sympathy for the Devil.”

They splashed around for a bit, and he embraced her in
his strong arms, kissing her. She wished they could stay in the warm pool forever. Lauren wrapped herself around his muscular body and let him lift her up on his shoulders, laughing as they both fell, crashing into the water again. Alejandro kissed her while she was holding her breath underwater, which made Lauren laugh so much, she had to come up for air.

When they were tired, they swam over to the steaming hot tub. Alejandro flipped a switch, and the spa stopped flowing into the pool. It was nearly silent, save for the sound of birds in the distance and the rustling of nearby trees.

“It's gorgeous here,” Lauren said, as she gazed at the overcast sky, framed by evergreens. “Almost makes me forget everything else.”

“I think that's what we need,” Alejandro said.

“Do you ever feel,” Lauren asked, after a pause, “like maybe they're trying to make us into something we're really not?”

“Sure,” he said. “But they can't make you into anyone you don't want to be.” He stroked her wet hair.

“Do you believe that?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I do know that I can't live like this. Too many expectations. I want to break free and not have to worry about what any of this means to the Society or to my parents or whatever.”

“What do you think happened to Jared?” she asked. “Do you think he really died of exposure? It seems like such a messed-up thing to happen.”

“I can't say. I never knew him. I guess maybe Nick would know? But it sounds like they didn't know each other all that well.”

“Can I ask you something?” Lauren said.

“Of course.”

“Are your parents Society members?”

He shook his head. “I don't think so. I think I would have known by now.”

“I don't think mine are either.”

There were so many questions unanswered, but for the first time in ages, Lauren felt relaxed, as if she could let go. They enjoyed the warmth of the hot tub, kissing again, her body against his, as he sat on the spa's underwater steps. After a few more minutes, Alejandro gently motioned to her that they should get up. He grabbed two towels for them from a nearby cabana, and they rushed inside to warm up again.

She followed him upstairs, a pile of clothes in her arms, not quite knowing what to expect. At his room, he handed her a pair of pajamas and showed her the bathroom, so she could change.

He put on a pair as well, although he kept the top open, which she didn't mind at all—Alejandro had one of the best bodies she had ever seen on a seventeen-year-old, much more impressive than her ex-boyfriend's scrawny physique. On the couch in his bedroom, she started kissing Alejandro again, inhaling the scent of chlorine and fresh laundry, and instead
of feeling fun and silly like it had in the pool, this time it felt electric, as if his body's energy were coursing through her. She decided to let whatever was to happen, happen. The Society couldn't touch them here.

 

As he tried to enjoy the last few days of Thanksgiving break, Patch couldn't stop thinking about something Genie had said to him when they were in the train headed back to the city. His grandmother always acted a bit stoic after visits to her daughter. He didn't want her to be sad, but it was hard not to be, especially after his mother's nutty behavior.

“Genie, I need to ask you something,” he had finally said.

She had looked at him warily. Behind her, he could see the Hudson River through the window, its waters moving slowly with the current. They passed the different stops: Philipse Manor, Sleepy Hollow, the land of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman. Greystone, Riverdale, and Spuyten Duyvil, a name he had always thought was so strange when he took this route as a child.

They would be heading into the city soon.

“The Bells—why are they on that wall at the entrance to the hospital?”

“They gave a donation,” she said simply.

“I know that. But I mean, why there? Why not somewhere nicer, somewhere closer to the city? Is it because of Mom?”

Genie moved so she was sitting right next to Patch. “The
Bells and your parents used to be very close. A long time ago, before her breakdown.”

“Why won't you ever talk about what happened? It was before Dad died, right?”

She nodded. “Patch, I can't talk about it. You know that.”

“Does it have anything to do with the Society? The ankh on her neck—was my mother…a member?”

“It was so long ago, Patch. I think it's better if we don't speak about it.”

A look passed between them. Genie knew him too well to think an admonition like that would keep him away.

 

Phoebe's expectations of the Bell household were completely confounded by its reality. It was a large estate with a full household staff, which she had expected, but other than that, everything seemed so normal. She met Nick's mother, Gigi, for the first time, and the woman treated her as if they had known each other for ages and were going to be best girlfriends. Mr. Bell was in his study, but when he came down later, he seemed truly pleased to meet her. Although Phoebe couldn't stop thinking about it, he acted as if their conversation on the phone earlier that week had never happened. Everyone treated her like Nick's new girlfriend, which secretly excited her.

Nick seemed embarrassed by it all, and his older brothers, Henry and Benjamin, even ribbed him a bit, giving Nick
winks and nudges. For the first time, Phoebe saw Nick actually blush, something she hadn't even thought him capable of. Instead of the household of a captain of industry that she had expected, the Bells seemed so welcoming that Phoebe tried to forget about Parker Bell and his ties to the Society. She got settled in an upstairs bedroom, right down the hall from Nick's, a bedroom that was usually, according to Nick, occupied by Patch. It made Phoebe wonder if she would ever be more than Nick's friend.

They installed themselves on the sunporch and watched stupid action movies and ate Thanksgiving leftovers. Nick seemed to want to numb himself from the horrible news about Jared, to pretend it hadn't happened. Phoebe looked at the flickering light from the television on Nick's handsome features. He was beautiful all the time, but particularly when he was concentrating.

Only she would think that was cute. She could be so dumb sometimes. If he liked her as more than a friend, he would have made the moves on her by now, wouldn't he?

She sank back into the chintz sofa, dejected, taking a long, last swig of her beer as the movie ended. Back to reality. Back to the Society and everything they couldn't figure out.

Nick looked at her, giving her a friendly poke on the arm. “You doing okay?”

“Um—actually, I'm not really sure. I'm kind of freaked out. All this—the Society, the doctor my mom made me see,
Jared dying—I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be talking about it.” She felt tears coming. No, she wouldn't do that. But she couldn't stop them. First one, then another. Why couldn't she be cool about all this stuff, more like Lauren?

“I'm so sorry, Nick,” she said, as she tried to stop her tears. “I must be such a drag to be around.”

Nick moved closer on the sofa and started gently rubbing her back. She felt a slight quivering in his hand, as if he were nervous, and she turned toward him.

“It's okay,” he said, in the same assured way that he had that day at the coffee shop, when he had promised he would be there for her.

She smiled through her damp eyes. “I'm so ridiculous. I shouldn't be breaking down. This is so embarrassing.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her face in an attempt to wipe her tears and the snot in her nose. She couldn't look at him, not in this state.

“You're not ridiculous,” he said, as he parted her hair with one finger and tucked it behind her ear. “You're beautiful.”

She looked up, and before she could do anything, he kissed her.

It was everything she had been waiting for, the smells she had grown used to, being around him, but had never experienced up close. So silly, she thought, what she was noticing in this moment: the feel of his arms under his sweater, the smell of his body, a hint of sweat, shampoo, the taste of his mouth,
the feel of his teeth on her tongue. He was pushing against her, as if he had waited forever for this, and she realized how wrong she had been about Nick Bell.

 

Lauren was mortified when she woke up on Saturday morning, asleep on the couch in the Callejas' media room. She and Alejandro had started watching a movie together the night before, but she had fallen asleep, exhausted. He had put a blanket over her and had left a note to wake him if she were up first in the morning. She didn't want to—it would be breaking all the rules of dating she believed in: Don't let the date last too long, don't stick around for breakfast the first time you sleep over, don't hang out with him as if the two of you are only friends. And what would the Callejas think about this strange girl who was asleep on the sofa?

She didn't want to know.

She threw on her clothes and crept out quietly, hoping she could get back home before her mother and her friend Madeline were up and about. Madeline, however, liked to take her dogs out walking early in the morning, and so Lauren was forced to walk up the driveway and exchange an awkward hello as Madeline left the house with her two English bulldogs and headed to the local farm stand. On her way upstairs, Lauren ran into her little sister, Allison, who was home for the holiday.

Allison rolled her eyes and made a lewd gesture.

“Not a word from you,” Lauren said. “If you tell Mom, no more rides into town.”

Allison nodded. “Okay, but we're going to Scoop, and you have to buy me something—and not from the sale rack.”

Lauren laughed. “You drive a hard bargain. Now go mention to Mom that I'm just getting up.”

After spending the day with her little sister—who, despite her freckles and penchant for magenta, seemed far more sophisticated than Lauren had remembered being as a freshman—Lauren decided to have a quiet Saturday night. After everything that had happened with Alejandro and the Society meeting the day before, she didn't want to go out to a club or a party. She even decided to turn her phone off. On Sunday morning, when she turned it back on, the messages came spilling out, all from Alejandro:

Lauren called Alejandro, but only got his voice mail. Typical boy behavior. Wants to talk, but then isn't available. She turned her phone on silent; she needed time to think. She was confused and angry and frustrated that he
could be such a flake.

Adding to her troubles, her mother kept asking her to bring him over, and she had no plausible excuse why she couldn't reach him.

Later in the day, a friend emailed her a link to a Hamptons gossip website. She clicked on it and saw pictures of Alejandro being pushed into a squad car. The story said that he had gone out clubbing the previous night with some friends at the Purple Elephant, got really drunk, and picked a fight with a bouncer over a coat he had left inside. When they wouldn't let him back in to retrieve it, he had screamed at them, “I know people who can get you. You'll all be screwed!” He had then attacked the bouncer, the police had been called, and he was taken away. His parents had needed to bail him out that morning.

Lauren sighed. Maybe she and Alejandro had one of those fantasy relationships that was never really meant to work out. Skinny dipping in November? Bossa nova singers? A house all to themselves? There had to be a downside, didn't there? It had all seemed too good to be true.