Twist (17 page)

“Lesbo!”

“Stop it with that joke.” I walked right up to her and gave her a passionate kiss.

“You just might convert me,” she said. “I like the way the color blue looks on you. Hot mama!” Amilee pointed her clawlike fingers at me and growled.

My hair was in its natural state of curl—real wicked. I had taken my time with my makeup, a task that usually only took twenty seconds. I used eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, mascara—I felt like an actress, because the woman who looked back at me in the mirror was unrecognizable.

“Selfie!” Amilee grabbed me and held her phone out in front of us and snapped a picture.

When the doorbell rang we embraced and I said, “Best night ever! Are you ready?”

Amilee opened the door and Grant stepped in carrying a dozen roses! His tight black jeans fit perfectly over a pair of silver and black alligator boots. The biker jacket he wore made him look like a badass, sexy guy.

“Rock star,” he said, and handed me the flowers as he kissed my cheek.

Scott
wore slacks and a button-down shirt that suited him. When he stood next to Amilee, the sexy wild-girl thing really worked next to Scott, the conservative choirboy. They were cute together.

“What do you boys have in mind for tonight?” Amilee asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“We thought—” they said in unison and chuckled.

“Go ahead,” Grant said.

“We thought we'd take you to the art walk first—my idea.” Scott looked at Grant. “You tell them.”

“I've got the password to an underground spy party.” Grant winked.

“Nice,” Amilee said. “We have a surprise afterward.” She pulled out a flask and took a sip, smacking her lips.

I wondered if Scott would take a sip, but before I could finish the thought he gulped down a long swig and handed it to Grant.

“What's in that?” Grant coughed.

“A dash of coke and a lot of Jack!” Amilee sang.

All three of them watched me take a drink and they all burst out laughing when I made a face as I swallowed and then yelled, “Fire!”

“Grant, can you put the cooler in the trunk?” Amilee asked.

We'd left one twelve-pack in the fridge at the hotel. And I quickly realized that Amilee had partied like this before—she'd been flawless in the planning.

I mumbled in her ear, “You're a genius.”

She hugged me and said, “Take another sip. It'll warm you.”

I
gulped down some more fire and made another face. The warmth ran through my belly and I felt giddy. “I'm a lightweight.”

Grant held my arm and helped me into Scott's car. I could smell the scent of his skin mixed with a touch of fabric softener. Up front, Amilee hung her arm over the console and kept her hand on Scott's leg.

“What's the password to the spy party?” I asked.

“I'm not telling, because then you won't need me,” Grant joked.

“He's into the clandestine and the tawdry,” Scott said.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Amilee gently slapped Scott.

“You know, secretive and flashy,” he answered.

“Not cheap,” Amilee said.

“No, but smart ones, too,” Scott said.

When we got to the art walk on Franklin Avenue, the street was barricaded. So we zigzagged up and down the block looking at jewelry, paintings, and folk art displayed throughout the galleries. Grant pulled me into a warmly lighted artist's studio and said to Scott, “Go on, we'll catch up.”

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. Goose bumps covered my skin, and the moment his hand touched my neck a warm sensation filled my core and made me think of Luke. I closed my eyes and thought about my last stand and wished Grant were Luke.

With his hands on my cheeks, Grant looked into my eyes and said, “Beatrice, I could eat you up.” And then he kissed my neck and played with my ear.

“
I want to make this my most memorable night ever. Can you help me with that?” I asked, searching his eyes.

He put his lips on mine and hugged me real tight. Then he ran his hands along the side of my body and groaned. “Can I ever. You really do it for me, Bea.”

“I can't resist you,” I said, and when an image of Luke popped into my head, I imagined that's who I was on a date with.

We found Scott and Amilee kissing next to a painting called
The Kiss
, and after viewing a few more galleries, we left. Amilee got into the driver's seat.

“The party is the other direction,” Grant said.

“We're going to make a stop first,” Amilee said. And within a few minutes we parked at the Gable Motel.

Scott raised his eyebrows at Grant and said, “What's going on here, ladies?”

“Let's have a cold beer,” Amilee said. “C'mon.”

“Somehow I don't think we're going to make it to your party,” I said.

The room had a small sitting area, which is where Scott and Amilee headed, but Grant pulled me down onto the bed.

“Calm down there, cowboy,” Amilee said as she reached into the fridge. When she handed us two beers, we moved to the edge of the bed.

Scott said, “You ever hear that bed covers in hotels are covered with all kinds of—”

“Eww!” I jumped up. “It makes sense.”

Grant ripped the cover off and threw it in the corner. “Sit back down. We're safe now.” And then he pulled a small baggie out of his pocket. “Want to try a molly?”

“
What's that?” I asked.

“It's Ecstasy. Not harmful, just enhances . . . life,” he said.

“Makes me feel like crap the next day,” Amilee said. “Like I'm taking all my energy from the future.”

“No way,” Scott said. “Put that crap away.”

“I want to try it. I even asked Amilee earlier,” I said.

“Yeah, that you did,” she said, sipping her beer.

I grabbed a pill from Grant's palm and tossed it in my mouth, chasing it with beer. He did the same and offered the other two pills to Amilee and Scott.

They looked at each other and hesitated. But then Amilee said, “Why not?”

We finished our beers and talked about the art walk, people at school, and then Amilee said, “Do you feel anything?”

“No,” I said. “But I love you both, a whole lot.”

The room erupted in laughter that sounded more like an echoing of sea gulls' cries. “She's feeling it,” Grant said.

He stroked my head and it didn't bother me that his hand got stuck in my wild curls. His touch felt so good. We started making out and soon we were lying down on the bed and he was on top of me, touching me everywhere.

Amilee said, “Hold on a minute,” but it sounded like she was at the end of a tunnel and the words just bounced away from me. When I looked at her it was as if a movie was playing and I'd missed several clips—she started out in the sitting area and in a split second she was at the bathroom door. She and Scott looked shimmery—as the trails of their movements caught up with them.

She
said, “Continue,” as she shut the bathroom door. I heard some laughter and then heard the shower running.

“We should take a shower with them,” I mumbled.

Grant pulled my top off and any place our skin connected caused a million little zaps to ping through my body. I couldn't get enough of him. Each touch was intensified exponentially by the drug—hence the name Ecstasy. I just wanted more and more.

I let go of my inhibitions and every part of me was sparking like the Fourth of July. We were gymnasts in the bed having a sexual marathon. “My last stand,” I mumbled. He wasn't paying attention to anything except my body. And we were so loud that I didn't hear Amilee and Scott come back into the room.

“I'm wasted.” Amilee giggled. “I've never watched live sex.”

When the bed leaned to my right, I realized they'd jump in the bed with us so we moved over. I loved the drug-induced whirly birdies. It was the greatest escape ever. Amilee started laughing and I gazed at her. In my heart she was a Madonna.

“Better than the video,” Grant said.

Amilee's smile vanished, but I was so high. I kept gazing at my Madonna.

“What are you talking about?” she said, as she pushed Scott off of her and slapped Grant. “What video?”

“The one on the Internet a few months ago.” He'd risen up, but he was unsteady on his feet. “It's all I've thought about since I saw it.”

“Stop it, Grant. You're ruining everything,” Scott said.

“The car, the pier, the California guy,” Grant said. “He even looks like me. That should have been me.”

“
What?” Amilee said.

“I love Bea. I always have,” he said. “Just like I love you.”

“You're messed up,” she said. “C'mon, Bea, get dressed.”

“But I don't want to,” I said weakly. “Best day ever, remember?”

“They're using us,” she slurred.

“Not any more than we're using them.” I stood up and the room slanted; I stumbled sideways.

Grant caught me and helped me sit down. “Are you okay?” he said, his voice coming to me through a long, long tunnel.

Somebody put a bottle of water in my hand and I tried to drink it, but it spilled all over me.

“I'd never do this to hurt you guys,” Grant said—but his words sounded garbled to me. “We like you. You're our girlfriends now.”

“Amilee,” Scott said, and he spoke in slow motion. “We just got carried away. This wasn't the plan. You're the one that got the room. Not us.”

I curled up in a ball. I heard some activity in the room and saw that everyone was getting dressed. I tried to stand up but stumbled again, then fell. Grant lifted me while Amilee put my clothes on.

“We went too far,” I mumbled, and everything went black.

Part
Four

Chapter
35

Coach Hammond taps his toe on the edge of the pool. His fingers grip the stopwatch and he nods at the guy with the starter gun.

Pop!

I dive into the second lane. My body is slim—Dad says he's never seen me this skinny. Charlotte was right about my hair. I swim in the ocean a lot and my hair is much lighter now. I'm truly at home in the water. And today, I swim five hundred yards like it's nothing—twelve laps with jet engines on my back, thinking about B the whole time.

Coach Hammond checks the stopwatch and yells, “Excellent time, Drake!”

I pull myself out of the pool and Brad, a guy on the team, claps me on the back. “Ready for Saturday?”

I grab a towel and grin.

“You don't talk much, do you, Drake?” Brad says.

“A man of few words.” Coach Hammond puts his hand on my shoulder.

Dad waves at me from a spot near the locker room and I see a crowd of people staring at me. “What are you doing here?” I ask Dad as I approach.

“College scouts, here to see you,” he says, nodding toward the group.

“Wow,” I say. “I've only competed a few times.”

“Yeah, I know. You're really good, Lou.” Dad grabs my neck. “I'm proud of you.” He follows me into the locker room. “I want you to think about the Olympics, too.” He stares at me. “Have you gotten taller?”

“
Yep—about an inch,” I say with a grin on my face.

I can't miss the happiness dancing in Dad's eyes. “Let's get a bite to eat. You could use some meat on those bones,” he says, feigning a punch at my stomach. “But only after you say hello to the college recruiters.”

I nod. But I don't want to talk to them. The effervescent Lucas Drake would have been thrilled to speak to each one. So I play along. But I still hate that guy, Luke. I can't fill his shoes.

I step outside the locker room, fully dressed. Dad introduces me to a man from USC who says their NCAA ranking is in the top ten. Another, from Michigan, shoves his way to the front of the group and says they are ranked number one. I'm bombarded: Penn State, Virginia Tech, Iowa, Missouri, and Florida.

“We didn't know you were coming to practice. We thought you'd be here this weekend, for the meet,” Dad says. “Coach Hammond called me and told me you guys were here already.”

“Doesn't hurt to grab a looksy,” one of them says.

“ESPN ran that story last night, and I was nearby so I thought I'd see for myself.”

Another guy acts like I'm not standing there when he says. “How's his brain working now?”

Dad laughs it off. “He's fine. Has another year of high school to prove it to you.”

“College still in your plans, Lou?” the coach from USC asks.

I nod.

“
Coach Hammond is going to spend time with you guys,” Dad says. “Right now, I'm taking Luke to dinner, and then rest.” And then Dad turns to me and says, “How about steak?”

“Okay.” I'm not sure what's next, but I know we never go out to dinner alone, just the two of us. He's wearing a half smile as he drives to the local steak house.

After we sit down, I wait for him to take a few drinks of his beer before I ask, “Have you heard from George or Charlotte? Wasn't Beatrice supposed to be here weeks ago?”

“I don't know.” He yells at the TV in the bar: “Yeah!”

I look to see what game he's so enthralled with, and see Abby sitting there. “Be right back.” I run to the bar and tap her on the shoulder. She turns and looks at me like I'm a stranger. “It's me—Lou,” I say.

“Oh my God!” Abby jumps up and hugs me. She feels really good in my arms, so I hang on until she wriggles away. “You look older, more . . . comfortable in your skin.”

“I swim a lot. And I can talk like there's silly sea shells everywhere.” I grin.

Abby laughs and pinches me. “You're so handsome, Lou.”

I stare at her because she's gorgeous. Then a guy shows up—I look at the empty chair next to hers and the drink. Of course she's not alone.