Mindspeak (3 page)

The man stared. Inched closer. Then
looked at me. I pushed calm, tranquil thoughts at him. His face softened
slightly. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do any good. This man’s anger was beyond
anything I could calm with my mind. I could feel it.

I took a step closer to Dad.

Just as I reached to grab his elbow,
the old man clocked him right in the jaw.

Dad stumbled backward against a
server carrying a tray of champagne flutes and then fell to the ground, taking
the cocktail server with him.

The bubbly and shattered glass
showered him, and the who’s who of the Kentucky medical community rushed to
help him stand. Three men, including one of the bodyguards who was
supposed
to be protecting him, grabbed his arms and supported his back as they pushed
him to his feet. Dad was a large man—six-foot-three, probably two-hundred-fifty
pounds. A heart attack waiting to happen, something I had talked to him about over
and over.

I jerked my head from Dad to the
man with the exceptional left hook. A good-looking man, even with the shaved
head. One of the bodyguards had his arms behind his back. Only then did I
notice the boy in a black suit beside him with a hand on the boxer’s arm.
Jack
.

That explained why I couldn’t find
him before I left for the dinner.

“Father, was that necessary?” he
asked.

Father? Who the hell are you?

Jack’s eyes snapped toward mine as
if I had spoken my thoughts.

A bodyguard stepped forward. “Mr. Roslin?”

Focusing back on the situation in
front of me, I sent out thoughts to the people fussing over my dad to back
away.
He’s fine. Let him be. Everyone just back away.
I turned my
attention back to Dad.

“It’s okay.” Dad pulled his arm
away from the men who brushed beads of champagne from his sleeves. He tugged at
the cuffs of his jacket. “I’m fine.”

“Dr. Roslin? Would you like for us
to remove this gentleman?” the bodyguard asked.

Dad shook his head. “No. That won’t
be necessary.”

Not necessary? Why wasn’t he firing
those two loser-bodyguards?

I continued to direct my calming
thoughts to the many people standing around gawking.
Go on. Go back to your
conversations. Drink and be merry.
The crowd dispersed and the party
resumed.

“Dad?”

Ignoring me, he reached a hand to
his chin and moved his jaw back and forth. “It’s nice to see you, John. How
long’s it been?”

Mrs. Wellington approached me from
the side and handed me a cloth napkin. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Sweetie,
your nose is bleeding.”

I gasped. “Oh. Thank you.” I took
the napkin and blotted at my nose. I should never have tried controlling the
thoughts of people around me without tissues handy.
How embarrassing
. To
top it off, Jack’s probing gaze studied every move I made.
Just perfect
.

The boxer, John, appeared to be
calming. “Apparently,” he started and shot a quick glance at me, “it’s been
about sixteen years, Peter.”

Sensing that the nosebleed wasn’t
too bad, I wadded the napkin in my left hand and offered Rocky my other. “Lexi
Matthews. Seventeen-years-old, actually. Would you like to tell me why you hit
my dad in the middle of this…?” I swirled my hand in the air. “This… party?”

The corners of his lips lifted, a
smile that mirrored that of his son’s next to him. “John DeWeese,” he said. His
warm hand enclosed mine and held on a little longer than I was comfortable. “And,
well, your dad had that coming.” He chuckled.

“John DeWeese,” I said, furrowing
my brows. “The goat-cloning guy?” Dad’s oldest and dearest friend and long-ago
lab partner.

“The one and only,” Dad responded,
still massaging his jaw. “And you must be John, Jr.”

Jack stepped forward and shook Dad’s
hand. “It’s Jack, actually.” He turned to me and picked up my hand. Shook it.
Or held it. I wasn’t sure what he did, but I lost time when he touched me and
flashed a paralyzing grin in my direction. “It’s nice to see you, Lexi,” he
said as if he hadn’t met me just hours before. His smile was so condescending I
wanted to scream.

I pulled my hand away and folded
both arms across my chest. “So, Dr. DeWeese… It is doctor, isn’t it?”

The older DeWeese nodded. Light
gleamed from his perfectly bald head.

“Is this how you greet all of your
long lost friends? Punch them in the face?”

“Lexi,” Dad said, chastising in
tone.

“It’s okay, Peter. It’s a fair
question. Like I said—”

“He had it coming,” I finished for
him. “Right.”

“Peter, I think we need to find a
place to talk,” Dr. DeWeese said. “In private. Unless you want to have this
conversation here.”

Dad looked at me, his expression
screaming an apology, then back at Dr. DeWeese. “No, probably not.” He leaned
in and kissed my cheek. “I’ll make this up to you. I promise.”

Of course he would. He always did.
With a present of some sort. A random package in the mail containing rich
European chocolates or clothing that was useless at a uniform school. “What am
I supposed to do?” Was I just supposed to grab a cab? Somehow find my own way
back to school? I was probably forty-five minutes away. Besides, I didn’t want
to go back. I wanted to spend time with Dad. Who knew when I would see him
again?

Dad pulled his phone from his
pocket and made a quick call. When he replaced the phone, his brown eyes
softened. His best feature. So unlike my eyes, the color of an avocado. “There’s
a car out front to take you back to school. The concierge will show you. I’ll
call you in the morning.”

After a silent exchange between
John DeWeese and Jack, Dr. DeWeese and Dad walked away leaving me exposed and vulnerable
with Jack still staring at me.

I debated whether to bolt or make
nice. I hated looking weak, so I chose the latter. Sort of. “Well, Jack, it was
sure interesting to see you and meet your classy father. I can’t for the life
of me figure out why he and my dad lost touch.”

“Look, I don’t know why my father
threw that punch. I can assure you it’s not in his character.”

“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “Like I was
saying, it was nice to see you. I don’t even know why I bothered coming
tonight.” Over Jack’s shoulder, I watched Dad’s back disappear through a door. “And
now… I’m leaving.” Why couldn’t I just ask him the question that was lighting
my insides on fire? Why couldn’t I ask him what his intentions really were for
attending Wellington? Did he know who I was before he arrived this morning?

Jack stepped forward and grabbed my
wrist, stopping my quick exit. “I will tell you this.” He stood so close I
could see the golden specks in the blue of his irises. His pleasant scent
threatened to topple me. “My father cancelled his trip to Scotland when he
heard your dad would be the key-note speaker tonight. And I don’t think it was
to hear the speech.”

~~~~

I stood on the curb outside the Hilton
Hotel in Lexington, KY waiting for the car that would deliver me back to
Wellington.

Men and women circled through the
large revolving door leading to the hotel lobby. A man in a navy bellhop suit
helped a lady out of a limo. A case hung on her arm, and a white dog poked his
head from a small opening.

I smiled as the dog yapped his head
off.

The air had turned unusually cool
for so early in September. Goosebumps popped up on my arms and spread down to
my bare legs. “Where is that car?” I tapped my peep-toe, high-heeled shoe
against the sidewalk and pulled at my light sweater, trying to trap in some
heat.

Thoughts of Dad being punched in
the face competed with the frustration coursing through my blood at not getting
to speak with him about Jack.

A body knocked into me, pushing me
forward. After I regained my footing, I looked up. A man continued by me, turning
as he stepped. A wolfish grin played at his lips. “Sorry, ma’am…” His words cut
off when his eyes met mine. What started as a look of apology morphed into one
of recognition.

Another touch to my arm sent me
spinning and jerking backwards.

“Whoa.” Jack raised both hands as
if to say, “no foul.”

“Oh, it’s you.” I whipped back
around, but the man with the lupine smile disappeared between parked cars.

Jack took a step closer, standing
shoulder to shoulder with me and rocking back and forth on his heels. “Yep.
Just me. Good ol’ Jack.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him
staring at me.

“What do you want, Jack?” I asked
without looking at him.

“Just thought I would wait with
you. They’re bringing my transportation around.”

“That’s not what I… never mind. What
are our fathers talking about, exactly?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re just catching
up on old times.”

Jack’s sarcasm lit the fuse of a
slow-burning firecracker just beneath my skin. “They didn’t appear to be on
that great of terms.” Understatement of the year.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how much
love and adoration was behind that punch.” Jack moved to stand in front of me. “You
okay? You’re shaking.”

I pulled my sweater even tighter
around me. “I’m fine.” He started to remove his suit jacket, but I raised my
hand to stop him. “Please don’t.”

“Why? You’re freezing.” He draped
the jacket around me anyway. “Nice dress by the way.” His eyes wandered the
length of my body, not stopping with the dress that hit a couple of inches
above my knees.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a
cliché. I don’t need you sacrificing your jacket. Besides…” I paused, recalling
the weird conversation we had at school. How much
did
Jack know about
me? Did he really transfer to Wellington because he was curious about me? Ridiculous
thought. But the look his father gave me before he decked Dad? I shivered.

“Besides what?” he asked.

I gave my head a little shake. “My
ride is here.”

A bellman opened the door to the
backseat of a Lincoln Towncar and stood waiting for me to get in. At the same
time, a valet pulled past the town car on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

“Mine too,” Jack said.

Not such a cliché after all. I
started toward the open door.

“Wait,” Jack said, a sense of
urgency in his command. He stepped close, towering over me. His dark gaze met
mine. “Let’s go somewhere. Get a coffee or something.”

“What? Why?” I glanced at the
bellhop holding the car door open for me, his eyes averted elsewhere.

“Because I think you and I probably
have a lot to talk about. Things others wouldn’t understand.”

“I don’t think so,” I answered
quickly, though a small part of me regretted it immediately. It was just that
his sudden appearance in my secret life frightened me.

“Well, you’ll want to sooner or
later.” He ran his pointer finger down the bridge of my nose. “How’s the nose
bleed?”

I leaned my head back, away from
his touch. “It’s fine. No big deal.” I struggled to find a clear voice while he
stood so close. Did he know why I got a nose bleed?

He reached his hand further. His
fingers feathered my forehead. “And the headache from earlier?”

A nervous knot flipped in the pit
of my stomach. I studied his expression—the lift of his brow, the slight curve
of his lips. He was right. I had so many questions. Like, how did he know where
I went to school if his father and mine hadn’t seen each other in years? Why did
I feel like we knew each other already when his father looked shocked to see
me, a seventeen-year-old? “It’s fine, too.” What did any of this have to do
with The Program?

“Suit yourself. We’ll talk another
time then. See you around.” He backed away slowly before turning and climbing
onto his motorcycle. He pushed his helmet down on his head and snapped the
strap in place before kick-starting the bike and riding away.

I realized too late that I still
had his jacket.

Chapter
Three

Briana leaned across a study table
and ran a finger down the page of Jack’s spiral notebook. She flipped her red
curls over her shoulder and giggled at something he said. Her blouse barely
covered the precious parts of her ample body thanks to one button too few.

Only Bree could find a way to make
school uniforms sexy.

From behind the stacks across the
library, I stared, my mouth agape. Anger built just watching that girl throw
herself at Jack. Apparently, she’d learned he was in The Program.

When Briana laughed out loud a
second time, Mrs. Roberts, the librarian, raised a quick finger to her lips and
shushed her. I laughed softly.

“Why are you here, Jack?” I
muttered under my breath. Great. Now I was talking to myself.

Jack’s eyes lifted. His gaze
circled the room until it landed on me. His lips curled just slightly, and he
lifted his head in a silent “hello.”

Only then did I realize I was still
smiling, always glad when Briana was in trouble, even if only a little. I busied
myself with sorting books on the pushcart, while still studying Bree and Jack.

Briana followed Jack’s line of
vision, and after giving me the snake-eye, she shifted to block Jack from my
view.

I had led him around every inch of
campus that morning, managing only small talk. When he’d tried to discuss the
previous Friday night, I’d changed the subject, still hoping to speak with Dad
about Jack and his father.

Dad had delivered a controversial
speech in the States after a two-year absence the same night his long ago
partner and friend decided to deck him. That doctor’s son was now at my school
asking questions that were off limits. It was all just a little too weird.

I turned up the music on my iPod
and finished shelving the cart of books. Then, I found a private study desk in
the far back corner of the library. I pulled my laptop out of my bag and after turning
it on, began an online search for articles about Friday night’s dinner. Reporters
were calling my dad an “International Man of Mystery.” Puh-lease. I thought
that title was reserved for Austin Powers.