Seer (The Seeker Series Book 3) (16 page)

“Me, too,” said Tara.

“I’m so sorry, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his eyes.

“For what, querida?”

“It’s always something with me, isn’t it? Aren’t you sick of it yet? Don’t you want to be with someone who doesn’t have all this extra crap?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Are you forgetting all the crap I came with? You’ve put up with an awful lot, you know. That’s what people who love each other do: they deal with each other’s crap.”

I tried to smile. “That’s really romantic.”

“That’s me: Mr. Romance,” he said before swooping in for a kiss. “I gotta go. Tara, will you stay with her? Make sure she gets to her next class?”

“Sure, Jack.”

He grabbed the newspaper before he left, walking with purpose toward the front of the building.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“
I
flamed amazement; sometime I’ld divide,

And burn in many places;”

—Shakespeare,
The Tempest
1.2

To my Titian-haired beauty: J’adore, ma belle. “
He had robbed the body of its taint, the world’s taunts of their sting; he had shown her the holiness of direct desire.”

I lowered the newspaper with a groan and dropped my head onto my arms. Why me, God? The cheesy personal ads kept coming, at least one per week. Each time there was a French love phrase of some sort and a suggestive quote from one of the books I was currently studying. It was embarrassing and disturbing. Tara no longer teased me about them because she knew how much they upset both Jack and me. Jack didn’t talk about it much, but I could tell he was aware of them and still angry. Although I still felt like someone was watching me, I hesitated to mention it to Jack or Tara, knowing they were inclined to think it was a product of my overly-stressed imagination. I was turning into a nervous wreck: the nightmares about searching for something while being followed disturbed my sleep at least three to four times a week, I still felt like I was being watched in reality, and I apparently had a secret admirer. Crap. I was having a hard time concentrating and was afraid my grades were going to suffer.

“Hi. Excuse me.” The voice came from above my head.

I sat up, brushing my long, red hair out of my face.

“Are you her?” A girl about my age stood at the edge of the table.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you her?” She pointed at the
Daily Lobo
, opened to the personal pages, on my table. “Are you the redhead in all those personal ads?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?” I was appalled someone had connected me to the crazy ads.

“Because you have really red hair, you’re pretty, and you have the book the latest ad refers to.” She reached down and picked up the copy of
A Room with a View
, which was where the latest quote came from. “I’m just wondering. My friends and I,” she gestured to a table behind her, “have been figuring out the quotes for weeks and trying to find who the girl is. A bunch of people are trying to figure it out.”

“What do you mean by a bunch of people?” I interrupted her.

“It’s kind of a thing on Twitter right now. See?” She showed me her smartphone. Oh, my God. I had my own hash tag! #RedHairMysteryGirl. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she said, grinning.

“Nope. Sorry. It’s definitely not me. I, uh, I just dyed my hair this color last week. Yeah, it’s really blonde. I gotta go.” I hurriedly gathered my books and rushed out of the SUB. Oh, great. This was getting out of hand. My humiliation was now trending on social media. Shit. Shit. Shit. I paced and cursed under my breath, wondering what in the world I could do to stop the personal ads.

“Ally! Hey, where were you?” Michael jogged up to where I paced.

“Oh, crap, Michael! I’m sorry.” I had been waiting for him in the SUB for our usual coffee date before our Shakespeare class.

“No problem. Are you okay? You look upset.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m just irritated by something. It’s fine.” I managed to dredge up a slight smile. It wasn’t his fault, after all.

“Okay, well, let’s get some coffee and go over these character analyses. I need your advice on what to write about Caliban. I’m not sure what to think about him.”

“Sure. Just, uh, give me a second.” I pulled an elastic band off my wrist and looped my hair into a ponytail, which I then stuffed into a slouch hat that I fished out of my backpack. I added a pair of glasses for good measure, which I usually only wore in class to see the board. This would have to do for now; maybe I’d consider dyeing my hair for real. Or shaving my head. This might call for drastic measures.

Once we had our coffee and were settled in an area of the SUB far away from my, ahem, fan club, Michael asked, “So, what’s with the disguise?”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” I grimaced at his nod. “It’s these stupid personal ads.” At his blank look, I pulled the latest out of the book I had folded it into and showed him the ad.

“Hmm,” he mused. “And you think this is meant for you?”

I flushed. “Yeah, I do. It’s not that I think I’m a beauty and all that,” I hastened to assure him. “It’s just that the first one was very specific about a location. And all the quotes are from the books or poems that I’m reading for my Victorian lit class.”

“So, you’ve got an admirer. Lucky you. Do you think it’s your boyfriend?”

“No.” I laughed. “This is not Jack’s style.”

“What? He’s not romantic like that?” he scoffed.

“He’s plenty romantic!” I rushed to defend him. “He’s just not creepy. He compliments me to my face.”

“Well, maybe not everyone has that luxury. So, you don’t like these ads? You’re not flattered or anything?”

“No, I mean, yes—I’m flattered. But I wish they would stop. They border on stalkerish, the way this guy knows what I’m reading—”

“Maybe it’s a girl,” he suggested.

I had no comeback for that. “I suppose it could be a girl. My point is, they’re embarrassing, especially now that I have my own hash tag and people are starting to ask if I’m the mystery redhead.” I sighed and took a sip of my mocha latte. “Never mind. Let’s look at these character sketches, okay?” We were reading
The Tempest
and had been instructed to analyze two of the characters. I had chosen Prospero and Miranda and felt fairly confident that I had done a good job, but wanted to get Michael’s opinion. I finished reading his analysis of Caliban and waited for him to catch up.

“So, what do you think?” he asked anxiously.

“It’s good. I’m not sure I’m in total agreement of your sympathetic take on the monster, but you’ve backed it up adequately. How did I do?”

“Good. I like how you compare Prospero to a chess master, aligning all the people like pawns. You’ve also pointed out some strengths in Miranda’s character that are rather nice.”

“Thanks, Michael. Well, let’s head to class.” As I threw away my empty cup, a chill crept down my spine and I looked up just in time to see someone duck quickly into a nearby alcove, as if they did not want to be caught watching. I didn’t hesitate; I darted after the figure, leaving Michael standing by the trashcans. The alcove turned out to be a service corridor. I heard a door slam just as I turned the corner, but every door up and down the entire hallway was locked.

“Ally? What the heck? Who was that guy you were chasing?” Michael caught up to me, slightly out of breath.

I whirled around, backing him up against the wall. “You saw someone?” I demanded. He nodded. “What did he look like?”

“Jeez, Ally! Calm down!” He looked at me as if I were a crazed lunatic.

“Sorry.” I backed away, giving him some room. “I was just surprised you saw someone too. Could you see what he looked like? Was it definitely a man?”

“I couldn’t really tell anything except, yeah, it was a guy. I just caught a quick glimpse. What’s going on?”

“I think this guy has been following me for a while. I catch glimpses, but that’s it.” I put my hands on my hips, dropped my head back, and laughed mirthlessly. “You must think I’m insane! First, I have a secret admirer placing personal ads in the
Daily Lobo
, and now I’m chasing a stalker. I’m not usually this self-absorbed.”

“I don’t think you’re insane or self-absorbed. Well, maybe a little insane. Come on, crazy girl. We’re going to be late for class.”

***

“
Ally
, I have a favor to ask.” My dad paused while the waiter placed our desserts in front of us. He still made a point of taking me out to dinner at least once a month when he flew in for business.

“Sure, Dad. Whatever you need.” We had built a comfortable relationship, enjoying each other’s company, although we would probably never be as close as I was with my mother.

“Well, I need your presence at a fundraiser next week. You know I’m on the board of directors for a homeless shelter here in Albuquerque, right?” I nodded. It was one of the many interests that brought him here regularly. “Well, we have our annual fundraiser next Saturday evening, and I bought a table. I’m having trouble filling it, and empty seats look bad. I need you and Jack to dress up and come be beautiful and charming. There will be good food, entertainment, and even some dancing. What do you say?”

“Of course, Dad. No problem.” I was glad he and Jack got along so well; Dad approved of Jack’s old-fashioned treatment of me—i.e. we weren’t shacking up—and Jack was happy I was able to get along well with my father. He and his dad had a tense relationship at best. “I’ll talk to Jack to make sure he’s available next Saturday.”

***

“I’m going to be out of town next Saturday. I’m sorry, querida. Mat and I are going camping,” Jack said as we sat on my couch, doing homework the next evening. “It’s okay. I’ll cancel. Mat and I can go another time,” he offered.

“Absolutely not!” I sat up and took his adorable face in my hands. “You are not to cancel! You haven’t had any fun lately! All you do is work and study and do army stuff. You deserve to go camping.”

“Ally, it’s no problem. I love spending time with you.”

That deserved a kiss. “I know you do. You’re the best boyfriend in the whole, wide world.” That earned me a longer kiss. “What were we talking about?” I asked as I pulled back, flustered as always from his kisses.

He chuckled and kissed me briefly. “I was telling you I don’t mind canceling my camping trip so I can take you to your dad’s fundraiser. Who else would you go with?”

Aha! I knew he really wanted to go camping. I just needed to convince him I would be fine without his company. “Don’t worry about it, Jack. I’ll ask Tara. Since you’re stealing her boyfriend away, she should be free.”

She wasn’t free; she was scheduled to work, so I asked Rémy. Jack was less than thrilled at this development; the latent jealousy he harbored against Rémy for our past semi-romantic entanglement occasionally reared its ugly head.

“Jack, you know you have no reason to worry, right?” I was helping him load Mat’s truck for their camping trip. The weather had turned colder and this would be their last chance to camp before they had to deal with copious amounts of mountain snow. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that the thought of sending my girlfriend off on a glamorous date with a 23 year old French guy rubs me the wrong way. I’m not sure he totally understands the whole ‘like a brother’ thing, either.”

“Hey.” I backed him against the side of the truck. “Look at me. You’re the one I want to be with, Jack. I love you. And Rémy is in love with Mina. He just doesn’t know it yet.” I leaned in, pulling him down for a kiss. “Now, go have fun camping with your cousin. Don’t freeze off anything important.”

***

Rémy picked me up Saturday evening in his gorgeous BMW. “You look beautiful, chérie, as always.”

“Thanks, Rémy.” I had chosen a sea-foam green cocktail dress—okay, Tara had chosen it for me—and Mina had helped me pile my hair on top of my head in a way I hoped looked sophisticated and not pathetic. “Wow, you look great. You didn’t have to rent a tux for this.”

“I didn’t rent it.” Of course he would own a tux. What was I thinking? “Nice roses. Did Jack send them?”

“Yes,” I smiled at the arrangement I had made in a crystal vase and placed on the dining room table. The lush bouquet had been waiting on my doorstep when I got home from school, along with a note:

Have a wonderful time tonight. I’ll be dreaming of you.

He must have arranged for them to be delivered today before he left yesterday.

Rémy was the perfect date for an occasion like this fundraiser; he was an amazing conversationalist, excelling at the kind of small talk I sucked at. He had our entire table laughing and chatting like old friends in a matter of minutes. He was incredibly gorgeous and his accent drew women like a moth to flame, but he never ignored me, making it clear to all the women who flocked around that he was with me.

“You don’t have to stick to me all night, you know.” I looked up into his face as we danced to the music of the live band. “I think that woman over there, the anchor from channel 4, would love to dance with you. I can make myself scarce.”

“No thank you, chérie. I promised Jack I would take good care of you. I shudder to think what he would do to me if I abandoned you. And I thought we were through with you trying to arrange my love life?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have to arrange it if you would just admit that you like Mi—”

“Shh.” He put his fingers against my lips. “Don’t say it.”