Father Knows Best (9 page)

“Oh.” She still looked confused, but I didn’t feel like launching into an explanation about the differences between a big-screen movie and a Made-for-TV flick. There were more important things to discuss.

I eased out some tension and got back to the matter at hand. Of course Meryl was compassionate, despite everything. She’s Meryl. The girl doesn’t have an unkind bone in her body, and that’s why I love her to death. “How did you—?”

“I ran into her,” Meryl said quickly. “Just by chance. She was sitting on one of the benches outside Inner Power. Crying. Like, hard.” Mer hiked one shoulder slowly. “I’ve never really seen her looking so…bereft. So I just went and asked her if everything was okay. And she told me.” Meryl twisted her lips to the side.

“Why, though? Why did she tell you?”

Meryl flipped one hand listlessly. “Because I asked? I don’t know. Everyone’s going to find out eventually, especially since her former friends are being so evil. And I guess her parents are”—she shuddered—“well, you can imagine how they feel, I’m sure. I assume she just needed someone to talk to.”

I forced a swallow past my constricted throat, and nodded. Made sense, and I was trying to rein in my inner bitchiness about the fact that she chose my best friend to talk to. I pictured Jennifer as a lone polar bear drifting on a glacier chunk in the Antarctic. Why wouldn’t she unburden herself to the first living thing that crashed into her lonely ice floe? The first person who showed any interest in her plight? So many questions swirled around my head, but one whopping scary one stood out:

How far along was she?

That’s what I needed to know, but I was too afraid to ask. I mean, I didn’t even know if Dylan and Jennifer had ever—ugh.

Shudder.

But, for my own peace of mind, I needed to calculate the last time they could’ve possibly—ugh.

Shudder.

Unless I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did, and they were still—UGH!—on the sly.

Big shudder.

I needed to get a grip, remember the Dylan I knew and L-worded. I closed my eyes for a moment.

Gut check.

I waited.

No. Somewhere deep inside me, I knew with unwavering certainty that Dylan wasn’t cheating on me. So, if the baby was his, the whole conception aspect had to have happened a while ago. “She’s pregnant,” I repeated in a zombie monotone.

“Yep,” Caressa said.

My eyelids fluttered shut, and I’m not sure, but I think I swayed on my feet. “How do you say pregnant in Bosnian, Mer?” I don’t know why I asked that. But I did. Avoidance, I suppose.

She swallowed. “
Trudna
. Or
zbijen
. Or—”

“Two choices are more than enough,” I said. “Really.”

Surreal. I knew I possessed extremities, like, say, hands and feet, but I couldn’t feel any of them right then. I couldn’t even feel my face. I couldn’t feel anything except abject fear straight down to the soul level. It buzzed within me like a wasp’s nest that had been thwacked with a broom handle until all hell had broken loose inside my chest cavity. I mean, what was I supposed to say about this? When’s the freakin’ shower?

“We just wanted to tell you,” Caressa said in a sad voice, as though reading my mind, “before you heard about it…some other way.”

Like from Dylan.

That was the unspoken part, but it came through loud and clear, believe me.

Because if Jennifer Hamilton was preggers, logically, who could the father BE besides her ex-boyfriend, a.k.a. my current boyfriend, the one for whom I deeply felt the as-yet-undeclared L-word? At least, that’s what all the gossips in White Peaks would think and spread around—Dylan and Hellspawn: teen parents to be.

The question was, what did I think?

*

Caressa

I can’t believe I had to leave for New York City right after springing that awful news on my girl, Lila. What kind of best friend was I, leaving in her time of need? Not that I had a choice. My job at the theatre (oh, God, I just got all jittery with excitement) starts Tuesday, so I only have Sunday evening and Monday to settle in.

Not a whole lot of margin for friend crises there.

This thing with Jennifer Hamilton is a big deal, considering the identity of her ex-boyfriend. No one said it out loud, but you could tell Lila thought the same evil thing Meryl and I had the minute she heard the news: Baby Daddy, starring Dylan Sebring. But, really, even if I had stayed, what could I do besides show my support? And I could do that from here—it’s not as if I’m going to be living in some remote jungle without cell phone or e-mail access. Still, I was torn. Nothing’s quite the same as being with your friends in person, you know?

But Lila wouldn’t want me to cancel my plans no matter what. This is an opportunity of a lifetime for me. I decided to send her positive mental energy and get on with the summer. They’d call or e-mail me with every update and I’d call and e-mail constantly. It wouldn’t even be like we were apart.

My plane landed, and once I got off and headed toward baggage claim, everything seemed to move in fast forward. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. New York time and White Peaks time? Not even on the same clock.

I was in love with the pulsating energy of this city.

My dad had instructed me to look for a uniformed driver holding up a sign with my name on it just past security, so I did. Okay, let me just say there seemed to be more uniformed drivers than people on the flight—not that they were all for the same flight. But still. I scanned and scanned until I saw my name, then I glanced up and smiled at the driver.

Holy—!

Daddy hooked his baby girl up with a stone cold hottie for a driver! I wonder if he knew. Believe me, I wasn’t going to tell him. The guy looked like he’d had a choice between the NFL draft for one of the cute positions, like running back, but decided to become a chauffeur instead. Skin the color of melted chocolate, soft lips, wide shoulders, and ripped muscles.

I don’t know if he knew what I looked like, but I shrank back against the wall and quickly flipped open my phone to write a text message to Lila (who made me swear I’d tell her everything good despite what was going on in her life). Meryl didn’t have a cell phone, so I started with,
B sure 2 tell M: JUST saw my driver & he’s so hot, I don’t know if I can walk over and intro myself!!!

I hit Send, then waited.

Mere moments later, my phone made that telltale blip.

Lila wrote:
How old???

Leave it to Lila. Just because I crushed on one way-old guy didn’t mean I hadn’t learned my lesson—sheesh! I texted back:
Not Bobby old.
Bobby as in Bobby Slade, my embarrassing older crush from last year. But hey, the embarrassment eased, we were friends now that he was recording music with my dad, and he’d gotten me this job, so I suffered that trauma for a good reason, at least!

Then I added:
Looks like way younger version of Taye Diggs. Way.

Lila texted:
Just go! And try 2 get a picture of him if U can.

I blurted a laugh, then slapped my palm over my mouth. I glanced over, but he hadn’t seemed to notice me. So I keyed back:
Right. Turn me in2 a stalker. Thanks.
I hesitated, then added,
how RU?

Her response took a bit longer. When it came, it said:
I still don’t know. Afraid 2 ask. I miss U.

Me:
Miss U2. More L8R. ciao.

Lila:

With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and cut through the crowds toward my driver. I stopped in front of him. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He paused, his eyebrows raising. “You Caressa?”

I smiled. “That’s me.”

He extended his hand, and I shook it, feeling all grown up and giddy and stupid all at once. “I’m Thomas.”

“You’re my driver, right?”

He laughed, this deep full sound that made you want to laugh right along with him. “I’m going to drive you to the Rosenthals’ house, yes. But, to clarify, I’m your bodyguard.”

My jaw must’ve dropped. I don’t really know.

Thomas goes, “Your dad didn’t tell you he’d hired a bodyguard?”

After a sec, I remembered to answer. “Nuh-uh.”

He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Well, don’t worry. I promise not to cramp your style, but those shows you’re working on end pretty late at night, and Tibby Lee didn’t want his daughter hailing cabs or hitting the subway.” He winked. “I’m just here if you need someone to run to, okay?”

“Oh. Okay.”

Cue in the romantic music.

Mr. Thomas the Hot (and too old for me—I know, I know, I know!) was going to be glued to my side all summer long. I think I might’ve sighed, which was so inappropriate. I didn’t care, though.

Glancing around, I saw a savvy-looking grandma-type from Somewhere Other Than New York standing against the wall near us. I held up a finger to let Thomas know I’d be right back, then approached her. “Ma’am?” I said.

She pointed at her chest as if to ask, “Moi?”

I nodded, bestowing my winningest smile. “Can you do me a favor? I’m in New York for the summer to work on a Broadway show, and I just arrived. Would you mind taking a picture of me and my bodyguard? For posterity?”

“A Broadway show! Why, how exciting,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I’d love to, dear. And when you’re famous, I’ll tell people I took your photo in LaGuardia Airport.” She pushed away from the wall and took my camera phone from me, studying it.

“It’s that button on the side.” I showed her. “Pretty much point and shoot.”

“Alrighty.”

I moved next to Thomas and faced the woman, smiling.

He glanced down at me, confused. “What’s up?”

“She’s going to take a picture of us. A keepsake.”

“Ah.” Thomas draped his arm across my shoulders and flashed this unbelievably sexy (too old) smile. He looked like the star, not me. And he was mine for the summer!

Snap!

“Can you take one more, please?” I asked.

The lady moved closer, focusing on us from the shoulders up.

Snap!

Thomas and I broke apart, and I moved forward to the lady. “Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.” She handed me the phone, then extracted a pen and a wrinkled receipt from her giant handbag. “Now, what’s your name, dear?”

“Caressa Thibodoux,” I said. “And yours?”

“Oh, who cares about me,” she said, flapping a hand. “I’m just a tourist. But you! Why, you’re an up-and-coming celebrity.”

I laughed.

“Anyway, it’s Esther. Esther Newberg.” She aimed her finger at me and grinned. “And I’ll be looking for you in
People
and
US
Weekly, Miss Thibodoux.”

Everything around me bubbled, like a freshly poured glass of 7-Up. Esther made me feel like such a star, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was strictly a behind-the-scenes part of Broadway, and unpaid, to boot!

Floating on the effervescence, I returned to Thomas’s side.

“Ready?” he asked, clearly amused by my excitement.

“Definitely,” I said. I couldn’t wait to get to Tribeca and explore. We gathered my luggage and made small talk as we carted it to Thomas’s Town Car. He stowed everything in the trunk while I climbed in the backseat and stealthily texted the photos Esther had taken of us to Lila, along with the message:
News—he’s my bodyguard, not just my driver. I get 2 spend all summer w / him
.

As we exited the airport property, my cell bleeped.

Thomas glanced back in his rearview mirror.

“Sorry,” I told him, waggling my BlackBerry where he could see it. “Incoming text.”

He chuckled. “Guess I’m gonna have to get used to that sound, right?”