Someone Else (12 page)

“I missed you,” Michael said, hugging me so tight that my ribs ached.

I mumbled the same back to him as I went in for some more kissing. The new prickly skin on his face was scratching my mouth raw, but I didn’t really care.

Leo’s whining broke the mood and I backed away, my legs feeling felt like cooked spaghetti. “I like this,” I said, running my finger along Michael’s bristly cheek. “Sexy.”

He pulled back to look into my eyes for a moment—
he was still able to look me in the eye
—then leaned in to kiss me again. “What are the odds,” he said between kisses, “of us managing even a half hour to ourselves tonight?”

“Bad. Bad odds. Horrible, even.”

As if on cue, Thing One and Thing Two came thundering down the stairs like two living, breathing punctuation marks on the ends of my sentences. They powered up their video game controllers, ignoring us. Michael and I went up to my room.

“So no possibility of escape?” he said, sitting down on my bed.

I smiled, thrilled that we seemed so astonishingly
normal
. “One track mind?”

“It’s been two months.”

As if I needed reminding. “You’d better get used to it,” I said, flopping down next to him. “My mother called earlier to officially lay down the law. The rules are the same as always. We’re not to be unsupervised, period, at any time during vacation. We’re not allowed in the house without a parent, my house
or
yours. Midnight curfew. And she’s calling your mom later to make her wishes known.”

He looked stricken. “What are we, Mormon?”

“May as well be.” I leaned back on the pillows and pulled him down next to me. “I’m sure we’ll find ways around it like we did before. They can’t keep us under a microscope for two weeks.”

He put his hand on my leg and kissed me again, nudging me closer at the same time. My bedroom door was open so we didn’t get too carried away, but the taste of his cinnamony mouth was enough to satisfy me for now. Having him right next to me made it easy to expunge the past few weeks from my mind.

“How was dinner with your family?” I asked a few minutes later. “I bet your mom is glad to have you home for a couple of weeks.”

“It was good. Josh freaked me out a little, though. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him sober.”

“Has he changed a lot?” I asked. Michael’s brother had been released from jail just last week. I was nervous about meeting him, this man who’d done so many horrible things and put his family through so much. Still, Michael loved him in spite of it all, so I knew he had to have some redeeming qualities.

“He just seems kind of quiet and withdrawn,” Michael said. “He used to be so outgoing. It’s like he’s not sure how to relate to us anymore.”

“He probably just needs some time to adjust,” I told him. It seemed like the right thing to say.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shook his head as if to dislodge any stray negativity. “Anyway, let’s focus on coming up with a plan to get out of here. Ten minutes. That’s all it’s going to take.”

I broke up laughing. “Ten minutes? You’re overestimating yourself a little, don’t you think?”

“Five minutes, then. Give or take.”

“Give it up, we’re stuck here with my dad.”

I reached around him to grab my new digital camera off the night stand. My parents had chipped in to buy it for me for my birthday; I’d turned the big one-seven just the day before. Old enough to know better, but apparently still young enough to require a million ridiculous rules.

I turned the camera on, waited for it to beep to life, then held it at arm’s length the same way Jessica had done at the dance when she snapped our picture. Michael pressed in close to me, and we both smiled.
Click
. The flash momentarily blinded us. I turned the camera around so we could see what had been captured. The two of us, our faces bright and content, filled the small screen. I turned the camera off and looked at Michael, who was smiling at me.

“Let’s go get a coffee or donut or something,” he said, taking the camera from me and placing it back on the table.

“Mmm, donuts. I could go for that. But we can’t stay out too long.”

“No problem.”

I cleared it with Dad first and was granted a thirty-minute leave. Michael and I dashed outside before he had a chance to think it over and change his mind. Driving around in Michael’s Volkswagen together was both familiar and strange, like coming home after a long summer vacation. It felt good to be home.

We never did get those donuts. We weren’t really in the mood for them, anyway.

Chapter 11

The next night, Michael’s parents threw a Christmas party at their house. It was an annual event, and this year I was on the guest list. Michael warned me that these parties were usually pretty boring, but I agreed to go anyway, after work, to see what a holiday party was like in Redwood Hills as much as any other reason.

It was interesting to see how the upper-class celebrated. Dad and Lynn’s parties typically involved a grill, spinach-artichoke dip, and beer, and we all pitched in to clean up afterward. None of those things were in evidence at Michael’s parents’ party. First of all, it was catered. There were actual
servers
milling around, carrying trays of bite-sized snacks. Champagne flowed. The well-dressed crowd, which consisted of various relatives and some co-workers of Michael’s father’s, stood or sat around in groups, sipping drinks and chatting demurely. My father, with his booming laughter and lack of internal filter, would have been like a bull in a china shop at this party. I felt a little out of place, myself. Only at times like this was I reminded of the fact that Michael’s family had a lot of money and mine did not.

The second I arrived, Michael’s mother got a hold of me and started introducing me around. If it had been anyone else I would have felt uncomfortable standing there next to her with her arm around me as she escorted me from group to group, presenting me to people I had never seen before in my life. But she was such a genuine person, so open in her affection for me, that I didn’t really mind.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of polite mingling, Michael came to rescue me. “Bored yet?” he asked, skillfully detaching me from his mom’s side.

When I shrugged, he took my hand and led me down to the family room, where his sisters and several of the younger cousins were racing around like maniacs and climbing on the exercise equipment. A large man was stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed, seemingly unaware of the racket around him.

“Hey,” Michael said, nudging the man’s leg. “Are you hiding?”

The guy opened his eyes and grinned, and I couldn’t help but gawk at him. The smile, the hair, the eyes...it was all Michael’s. “Just taking a break,” he said, sitting up. “It’s not like I came down here for the peace and quiet.” One kid let out an ear-splitting scream at that moment, proving his point.

“This is my brother, Josh,” Michael said to me, breaking me out of my momentary trance. “Josh, this is Taylor. My girlfriend.”

Josh stood up, towering over both me and Michael, and offered me his hand. As I shook it, I noticed the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, blue-gray eyes steady on mine. It was unnerving, seeing Michael’s features on this tall, beefy, slightly scary-looking man.
He’s been in prison
, I thought, swallowing.
He’s a criminal
.

Introductions out of the way, Michael sat down in the chair and pulled me down on his lap. “I used to hate these parties when we were kids,” he said, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. He looked very cute in his formal clothes. “I still don’t like them.” He looked at Josh, who had resumed his sprawl on the couch. “Remember when we used to sneak away in the middle of it and play video games?”

“Or we’d go outside and shoot hoops if the weather was good.”

They were quiet for a moment, and I could tell they were both wishing they could go outside and shoot some hoops right now, if only the ground weren’t so slick from the freezing rain that had fallen earlier.

“But I guess we should stick around,” Michael said.

“Yeah,” Josh said. Then suddenly he perked up. “
Or
…we could cut out the back door and go shoot some pool. Want to?”

Michael’s face lit up and he turned to me. I shrugged and said, “Let’s go.”

The three of us managed to duck out the basement exit without attracting any attention. We skidded down the icy walk to Michael’s car, feeling like prison escapees. Josh no longer looked exhausted, and he laughed and joked all the way into town. I could see why Michael liked him—he had an easy, playful way about him. He was the type who could make pretty much anything seem like fun.

The guys and I ambled into this hole-in-the-wall place called Pockets, each of us ridiculously overdressed for a seedy pool hall. The clientele in here were a stark contrast to the guests of the party we’d just left. All the girls were wearing jeans and casual tops, and a few of them raised their eyebrows at my scoop-neck sweater, long skirt, and high-cut boots. The rest of the females were too busy checking out the handsome brothers to even throw a glance in my direction.

The place was fairly crowded but most people were in the glassed-off bar section or zoned out in front of the slot machines, so getting a table wasn’t a problem. I had played pool a couple of times in Michael’s friend R.J.’s basement, but I wasn’t very good. Tonight I was content just to watch Michael and Josh. The mood between them was lighthearted at first, but I knew Michael had a strong competitive steak in him. It wasn’t long before I realized that Josh had an even stronger one. They started off with a ruthless game of 8 ball, all the while harassing each other over illegal shots and penalties. I just sat there silently on my creaky plastic chair, sipping 7-Up from a straw and trying to stay out of it.

When Michael won the first game, Josh complained good-naturedly about having a sore shoulder. After Michael smoked him a second time, he mumbled something about feeling tired and then took off for a bathroom break.

“Sore loser,” Michael said after his brother had left the room.

Josh returned five minutes later, looking re-energized. “Cut throat?” he asked, and Michael agreed. Josh beckoned to me. “Come on, Taylor. We need three for cut throat.”

I deposited my 7-Up on the table next to my chair and reluctantly stood up. I had no burning desire to play pool at the moment, but I knew Josh wouldn’t take no for an answer. He couldn’t win against Michael tonight, but surely he could win against me.

“I’ll show you how to rack ‘em.” Josh gathered up all the balls and the triangle rack. I’d played this game before and knew how to rack, but I humored him. “You put the one ball here, and six and eleven go here. You want to start?”

“I guess.” I took the cue stick from him.

“Okay. I’ll go second. You go third, Mike.”

“Got it,” Michael said, amused by his brother’s tutorial.

“Now,” Josh said as I attempted to set up my opening break shot. “The object of the game is to sink our balls before we sink yours.”

Michael and I laughed, but Josh ignored us and leaned across the table to study my stick-holding technique. Obviously it was wrong because he stopped me right away.

“You’re too wobbly.” He moved over to where I stood. “Your front hand needs to act as a solid base for your back hand so you can guide the cue correctly. Here, let me show you.”

Before I could react he was behind me, his arms encircling my upper body. He leaned his chest into my back and placed his large hands over mine, adjusting my frame. I felt my cheeks go warm.

“Watch it,” Michael said.

“I’m trying to teach her a valuable life skill,” Josh said with a trace of humor in his voice. I glanced up at him and he winked at me. “As cute as she is, she’s way too young for me.”

Josh, I decided, was a shameless flirt.

“I think she gets it,” Michael said, and Josh backed away from me, laughing. Completely flustered now, I took my shot and almost missed the cue ball altogether. The end of my stick skimmed against the side of the ball, sending it rolling slowly, but it made almost no impact at all against the others.

“Do I need to show you again?” Josh asked, still laughing.

“That’s okay,” I said at the same time Michael said, “No.”

Josh let out another chuckle and then left the room again. Michael watched after him, wary. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was doing out there. Going by his breath when he was leaning over me, my guess would be drinking whiskey. I’d smelled enough liquor at parties to distinguish one from the other.

Michael leaned against the pool table and muttered, “And there goes that.”

“What?” I asked, even though I already knew.

“Nine fucking days,” he said. I blinked, surprised to hear him use that word. He rarely swore. “That’s all he could handle.”

I assumed he meant nine days out of jail without falling off the wagon. “I’m sorry,” I said, taking his hand. He seemed so jaded about the whole thing, as if he’d known this would happen all along. As if he’d known the only reason Josh had suggested pool in the first place was because he knew there’d be a bar close by. Which, of course, was the truth.

Josh stayed gone for twenty minutes this time. Michael and I got tired of waiting and hung up our pool cues. It was closing in on eleven-thirty and I was more than ready to leave.

“Going out on a high note, are we?” Josh said when he joined us again. I watched him carefully for signs of drunkenness but he was acting the same as before, only maybe a little louder and more jovial. I suppose when you drank as much as he did, it took a lot to make a difference. “Packing it in before I get a chance to beat you. Smart.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Michael said wryly as we stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was raining now, the heavy mist kind, and the roads appeared to be washed clear of ice.

“Cut throat’s my specialty, you know.”

“I thought losing was.”

Josh turned to me as the three of us walked toward the car. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”