Hush Money (22 page)

“Not a whole lot. Eating some Peeps, watching
Melrose re-runs.” I could hear her chewing. “Pretty sweet move with
Mrs. Hobby’s hat this morning. God, that thing was massive. She
looked like she had the actual Easter Bunny copping a squat on her
head.”

“Yeah, that was only marginally
embarrassing.” I blushed remembering. “So, guess whose dad RSVP’d
his son to my party?”

“Avery’s?” Claire shrieked. “Yay! Now if only
said party wasn’t in the church basement. I don’t know why your
parents wouldn’t take mine up on using one of the banquet rooms at
the lodge. I’ve already reserved the Grand Ballroom for my super
sweet sixteen and its eleven months away.”

I sighed. “Because we’ll have way less fun in
a windowless wood paneled room with a concrete floor. Just another
perk of being a pastor’s daughter, Claire, I get an all access pass
to the church rec room.”

A wave of guilt washed over me the second I
made that snarky comment. It was actually really nice of my parents
to throw me a party. Ugh. Weirdly bitchy was taking me over today!
I pulled it back to the positive. “At least there will be boys
there.”

“That’s true.” Claire paused, like she was
trying to figure out how to the broach the next subject.

“Just spit it out, dude, I can sense you’re
waffling.”

“I am indeed waffling, Zel. Um, have you
considered what to do about the Melody factor?”

My parents insisted that Melody attend the
party, I hadn’t really thought about that one way or the other. She
was my little sister, she was always there. “I haven’t. You don’t
think she’ll tattle? Wait. Do you think there’ll be things worth
tattling about?”

Claire giggled. “You never know.”

I heard Mom round the corner into the
kitchen. I slammed the phone back into its cradle, hanging up on
Claire. “Ready to go, Mom?”

She gave me a suspicious look, but then let
it go. “Yup, let’s move on out to the next one.”

It was almost dinner time as we drove through
downtown Rosedell. Most of the buildings, faced with Old West
facades, were dark. The Hitching Post gas station and drug store
was still open, as was Adams Insurance. Mike Adams stood by the
front window of his office, a big smile on his face, and waved when
we passed by. Mom waved back, she was smiling too.

I kicked off my white scuffed flats;
hand-me-down’s from Claire’s maid and put my feet up on the back of
Mom’s seat. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that Mr. Adams is
always at his office on Sunday just in time to wave to you? I mean,
I know you guys are friends and all, but shouldn’t he be at home
with his family?”

“Put your feet down,” Mom reached behind her
and swatted at my legs. “I don’t know that it’s weird. Mike works
very hard and doesn’t have the most pleasant home life. I think he
spends a lot of time at his office.”

“What’s so unpleasant about his home life?
Avery’s a really good student and plays a bunch of sports. His dad
should be totally proud of him.” I would be proud of him if he were
my kid, which is a kinda gross thing to think, but whatever.

“Oh, he is, honey. He’s very proud of him. I
don’t know why I said that. Mike just works a lot.” Mom turned onto
our street. “Of course, no one has as great a home life as us.” She
pointed to Dad and Melody as she pulled into our gravel driveway.
They were engaged in the welcome home dance. Invented by my father
in 2001, the welcome home dance consisted of cheesy smiles, jazz
hands, hip bumps and was a Wells family tradition.

I laughed; I secretly loved the welcome home
dance. “Yeah, that never gets old.”

We got out of the minivan. Dad frowned,
seeing that we were empty handed. “No BLT’s? I’m starving!” He put
his arms out and walked, stiff legged, towards Mom.

“Sorry, Pastor zombie. I thought you all were
eating at the Wallaces?”

“We did. It was really good.” He rubbed his
belly. “You know I can always eat though.”

Mom put her arm around his waist. “Yes, I
know.” She shepherded him up the steps and inside the house. Melody
followed them, looking over her shoulder, hoping no one had seen
her dancing, no doubt. I went in last, thinking how nice it was to
have parents that loved each other and also that Dad had better
cool it because he had a nasty bout of heartburn on the
horizon.

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An excerpt from

Imogen Rose

Prologue

LONDON, 17 Years Ago

O
livia Stevens braced herself. The
cold October breeze sent a shiver through her as she stood outside
the Alexander Fleming pub in Paddington, impatiently waiting for
her girlfriends to show up.

She needed a drink. She had just completed
her doctoral thesis, so a celebratory glass of Champagne would be
perfect. A drink would also help dull the pain of her stagnant
marriage to her philandering husband. However, to top it all, she’d
just found out that she was a month pregnant.

Yes, a drink is just what she wanted, but
she would have to settle for a glass of sparkling water to
celebrate her best friend Celia’s birthday, which was, after all,
why she was waiting outside the pub on this cold night. She looked
up to the sky and caught sight of a shooting star. It was the start
of the Orionid meteor showers. Olivia made a wish.

Celia and the others finally arrived,
stumbling toward the pub. They had started their pub crawl hours
earlier while Olivia was still finishing up in the laboratory.
Celia planted a wet, alcoholic, kiss right on Olivia’s pink-glossed
lips as they hugged, and then pulled her in the direction of the
pub. The group of nine made a noisy entrance as they pushed their
way to their regular table.

Let the rounds begin! Olivia put her hand up
to indicate that she would deal with the first one, and tried to
remember the orders as they were shouted to her. She turned and
headed for the bar.

As Olivia made her way through the crush of
bodies, she noticed an unfamiliar hand reaching for her. Ignoring
it, she plowed on ahead, but the hand was still reaching for her as
she got to the bar. Abruptly, however, the hand then moved down and
picked up a wooden guitar. She looked up, curiously.

Olivia was unprepared for the tremor that
jolted through her when she looked into his icy blue eyes. The deep
intensity was hypnotic, she felt like she was being drawn into his
soul. Embarrassed, Olivia gave herself a shake and laughed, the
laugh turning into nervous giggles. Guitar man suddenly joined in
her laughter and started strumming his guitar.

Olivia composed herself and turned to the
barman, reciting her drinks order. Nine glasses were put on a tray.
Before she turned to lift it, guitar man picked it up and looked at
her for direction. She pointed to the table in the corner and
smiled gratefully as he threw the guitar over his back and deftly
maneuvered the tray through the crowds.

“Ladies, your refreshments!”

“My! Where did you find
him
, Ollie?
He’s adorable!” Celia grinned, looking him up and down.

Olivia examined him carefully. She had been
so enthralled by his eyes that she hadn’t noticed how irresistibly
attractive he was.

“I’m the birthday girl so I get the first
kiss!” Celia giggled, as she stood up and puckered her lips. Olivia
felt a strong wave of resentment but couldn’t understand where it
was coming from. She looked up at guitar man who must have noticed
her obvious irritation. He smiled back at her reassuringly before
heading over to Celia and kissing her gently on her head.

“Is that all I get?” Celia teased. “How
about a tune on your guitar at the very least? It’s my birthday
after all!”

Olivia was relieved when he walked back over
to her and sat down on the arm of her chair. He strummed his guitar
as Celia got up and sang along.

Olivia tried to analyze her erratic reaction
to this stranger. Why was she feeling so utterly possessive of him?
It didn’t make any sense. She was even envious of Celia singing
along to his music. How absurd!

He turned to face her as he made a move to
leave their raucous party. She felt a shot of pain tear through her
body. He gently pulled her hair away from her ears and came up so
close that she could feel the warmth of his breath. He softly
whispered, “Ollie, I’m your Rupert.”

Then, just before he left, he whispered the
words that changed her life forever.

“Come find me two years ago.”

I
’m going to take him out! I clenched
down on my mouth guard so hard that I could feel the salty drops of
blood on my tongue. Then I took a firm grip of my stick and zoomed
over to number 4 in less than a heartbeat. Snarling under my
breath, I lifted my stick and brought the end down hard on to his
thigh and pounded my shoulders into his chest. He was down. Mission
accomplished. The whistle sounded. Typical! The two minutes in the
penalty box was so worth it. Seeing the look in his eyes as he
realized that
the
girl
had brought him down….

I inhaled. Slowly. What was that smell? The
sweetness was interfering with my game replay. I tried to open my
eyes, without any success; my eyelids felt like they had been glued
down. I rubbed them with my fingers and the smell got stronger. Was
it coming from my hand? Perhaps it was coming from my sleeve? I
took another deep breath–the aroma wafted up my nose.

It was perhaps technically not a
smell
, more of a scent. I don’t have a good nose like my
sister Ella, who’s like a sniffer dog. The only perfume I can
recognize is my mother’s. She uses a very heavy French perfume.
This was different, much more delicate, almost pleasant with a hint
of cinnamon.

I thought about trying to open my eyes again
but it was too much of an effort. My whole body ached. I tried to
recapture the feeling of thrill from my hockey dream but drew a
blank. So, I concentrated on the sound of the heavy rain clatter
instead, a perfect lullaby. I started drifting, thinking back to
the SAT’s I had taken that morning.

The sound of Lily Allen’s whiny singing
rudely interrupted my thoughts. When will Mom ever move on to some
new tunes? What was I doing in Mom’s car anyway? I clearly
remembered Dad picking me up at school after my SAT’s.

Mom lives in California and was not supposed
to be back in Princeton until next week. I’ve been living with my
dad in New Jersey for the past eight months while I finish high
school. My sister lives with my mom on the other side of the
country.

Well, whatever the explanation was, I had
plans for tonight. The new
Star Trek
movie is playing at the
Imax, and I needed to be ready to head out with my friends shortly.
I better get up and deal with life. I forced my eyes open.

It was dark! My SAT’s had finished at 1 PM,
it should still be daytime. This was strange. The rain was coming
down hard. I went to switch on the DVD player to drown out the Lily
Allen noise so I could concentrate.

I scrambled about looking for the control
knob. It was missing! How could it have disappeared? It was one of
those built-in entertainment systems that could be accessed from
the back seat. Ella and I had insisted on two being installed into
this Hummer so we didn’t have to deal with each other. I looked
over to my left. She was fast asleep in her booster seat, her mouth
slightly open.

Ella, my sister, is eight. She’s a fairly
typical eight year old, and by that I mean totally annoying. The
best times were like this when she was completely out of it. There
was something different about her. I looked closer.

It was her hair. It seemed to have blond
highlights! My eyes had now fully adjusted to the dark, but I was
still feeling groggy. I reached over and touched her blond tipped
strands. She stirred, ever so slightly, but did not wake up. As I
pulled my arm back from Ella, I felt a warm, rough, tongue run
across my palm.

I looked down at Gertrude who lay between
us. I had disturbed her sleep. She stretched out lazily on the back
seat next to me and rolled onto her back waiting for me to rub her
belly, and then yawned and closed her eyes again. Gertrude is the
love of my life. She is my five-year-old Chihuahua. She looks more
like a Jack Russell terrier, though. She’s supremely lazy, but
friendly and incredibly cute. She stretched out on her back with
her tongue hanging out the side of her open mouth, fast asleep. I
absentmindedly stroked her tummy as my eyes moved over the driver’s
seat.

I first noticed the glimmer from the seat,
which looked like leather. Strange, Mom’s Hummer has fabric
seating. Leather or fabric had been the source of one of many
arguments when we were buying the Hummer.

A set of perfectly manicured nails grasped
the steering wheel. Black nail polish–Chanel, no doubt. I’m
embarrassed to admit that I even know that. Long, straight, brown
hair… no wait… it looked lighter than my mom’s. An uneasy feeling
came over me. However, I caught a reassuring whiff of my mother’s
perfume. What was I was doing in her car, her new car?

She turned her head around; she must have
heard my shuffling.

“Arizona, are you up?” Mom asked in her
annoying British accent. “Could you hand me a Starbucks from the
cooler?”

If I absolutely have to, I thought to myself
as I rummaged through the cooler at my feet and extracted two glass
bottles, one for her and one for myself. I handed it to her,
carefully making sure not to touch her. I avoid any physical
contact with her.

“Thank you, baby.”

Baby
? Had she completely lost her
mind! We have a complicated relationship. In short, I can’t stand
her. I find myself boiling up with rage whenever I have to deal
with her, which is one of the reasons we live apart. Our
confrontations have landed me in serious trouble, so I really have
to watch myself around her. However, Ella needed to be dealt
with.