The Girl of Sand & Fog (21 page)

“Where’s Mom?”

Aarsi clicks off the music. “Out with Lourdes.”

I go down the hall into my bedroom and close the
door behind Zoe. I sink down on the bed, pull the box out of the bag, and start
reading the instructions.

Kinship DNA test.

Designed to test siblings.

I can’t believe Zoe thought of this.

Why is she panicking now?

Why are there five sticks included? Are there
really families
that
fucked up in the world? Directions look simple
enough. Swab inside of cheek. Return tester to foil pouch. Seal. Mail. Six to
eight weeks for results.

Easy beans.

What’s this form?

I pull it out and start reading. Oh shit. Why
can’t they just give me the results by e-mail?

I turn to Zoe. She’s leaning back against my
headboard, phone in hand and rapidly texting.

My eyes narrow. “What are you doing? You better
not be telling Bobby about any of this.”

Her face snaps up and her cheeks redden. “No. I’m
not. I promised I wouldn’t. But I probably should tell him everything. And by
the way, I do have a life other than you, Kaley. I’m texting Jake, if you must
know.”

She scrunches up her face at me and looks down at
her phone again.

I hold out the form. “You need to fill this out.
I don’t know your address. I have to have the results mailed somewhere. And I
can’t have them sent here.”

She grabs the form and studies it, shaking her
head. “I don’t want my name on that thing.”

“Well, we can’t put mine on it. Jeez, it’s for
mailing purposes. It’s no big deal.”

I take a pen from my bag and hand it to her. With
an aggravated sigh, she snatches it from my hand, plops onto her stomach on the
bed, and starts writing.

I open one swab, swipe my mouth and put it back
into the foil. There, done. Now I just have to figure out how to swipe Khloe’s
cheek without Aarsi or Krystal seeing me.

My legs start jiggling as I wait for Zoe to
finish filling out the form. “Do you think this is really going to work? What
if it’s just a racket and doesn’t work?”

She frowns, double-checking the form as she chews
on the end of the pen. “Of course it’s going to work. They wouldn’t sell these
tests if they didn’t work. Besides, I saw this on an episode of
Law &
Order
. This girl wanted to prove some rich guy was her father, but he
wouldn’t take the test, so she tracked down her half brother and did a kinship
test. Great episode. Riveting.”

Really, Zoe?

Your big idea came from TV?

Oh well, it’s probably better than anything we
could think up. They do research those cop dramas pretty well.

“Are you done yet with that form?”

“Uh-huh. I think so,” she says with a nod. “We
need to write down which tester belongs to which one of you.”

“No we don’t. We’re only sending two.”

Her eyes light up. “Yep. That’s right. We can
skip that step.”

I sigh and rise from the bed. “Here’s the step we
can’t skip. We’ve got to figure out a way to get Khloe away from Aarsi.”

I leave the box, the form, and the extra testers
on the bed, and slip a fresh one for Khloe into my pocket. She’s got to nap
sometime.

Back in the family room, I sink down on the sofa
close to Krystal and Zoe does it again—hangs back in the kitchen, hovering and
anxious.

Krystal turns her face to look at me. “What?”

I shrug, innocent. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you sitting behind me, staring at me?”

I make a face. “I’m your sister. Where should I
be?”

Krystal rolls her eyes, slaps shut her laptop,
and leaves the room. Aarsi continues reading her textbook, glancing at me in
between highlighting. 

“Where do you go to school?”

She lifts her face. “UCLA. I’m in graduate
school.”

“I thought you were younger than that. What are
you studying?”

“Environmental economics.”

“Why? Do you plan to cure the world’s
inequalities through wealth redistribution like every other college airhead out
there too ashamed to admit they’re in college so they can make money? Or do you
really believe all that shit about micro-managing fairness?”

She slams shut her book.

Ah.

I’ve pissed her off.

“I need to make the boys their lunch. Can you sit
with Khloe for a while? She refuses to sleep today.”

Winning.

I smile. “Sure.”

I wait until she’s down the hallway.

I rip open the foil and pull out the stick. “Zoe,
keep watch. Make sure she doesn’t see me.”

A loud frustrated sigh comes from the kitchen,
but she moves from the counter to the doorway as a lookout.

I stare down into my sister’s face and I feel it,
an out of nowhere jab that this is wrong—
damn it, Zoe, thanks a lot
—but
I gently ease the tip into Khloe’s mouth anyway. She just stares up at me with
Mom’s giant blue eyes. I quickly take the tester away and shove it into the
foil.

Not even a tear from Khloe. For some reason that
makes me feel lousier about doing this. Her trust is an absolutely shaming
thing.

I kiss her on the forehead. “I’m sorry, baby
girl.”

I cross to the kitchen. “Play with Khloe while I
get everything ready to mail.”

Zoe shakes her head at me, but goes into the
family room and sinks down on the carpet close to my sister.

My pulse is beating double time as I make my way
down the hall. I’ve got everything I need for undeniable, irrevocable truth,
but it doesn’t feel the way I thought it would.

I’m nervous. Agitated. Afraid and sad.

Maybe Bobby is right. Maybe it’s not always a
good thing to know everything. Doing that to Khloe definitely felt wrong.

I’m angry that they’ve lied to me.

Does that make this right?

I’m not at all certain anymore, and halfway to
convincing myself to toss everything in the trash and not do it.

I step into my room.

“Kaley! What is wrong with you?”

My heart stops.

Krystal.

Sitting on my bed with the box.

And what the fuck has she done with my testers?

“How dare you come into my room and snoop?” I
snap, rummaging through the wrappers and used test sticks on the bed.

Oh God.

They’re all ripped open.

I don’t know which one is mine.

Krystal springs to her feet. “Tell me what’s
going on or I’m calling Mom.”

I whirl on her. “You call Mom, if you so much as
breathe one word of this to anyone, and so help me, I’ll never speak to you
again.”

Her eyes cloud over, stricken. “Sneaking around
the house and now this. What is it you’re trying to prove?”

I let out a ragged breath. “Duh, Krystal, you
can’t be that dumb. I want to know if Khloe and I are half sisters or whole
sisters. I have a right to know and you don’t have a right to stop me.”

I do another frantic study of the testing kit.
Shit, why did she mess up the sticks? I can’t tell which one I used and which
ones she destroyed.

She tries to stop my hands. “Then ask Mom. Don’t
do this. Something terrible will happen if you do.”

I drop Khloe’s sample into the mailing envelope
and then, carefully one by one, the others. “I’m mailing it off. And you’re not
stopping me.”

“Do you know how wrong this is?”

I give her
the stare
. “Yeah. About as
wrong as you thinking messing with the other testers would matter.”

She crosses her arms, challengingly. “Oh no, I didn’t
just open them. I used them for their intended purpose. One of those is Eric’s.
One of those is Ethan’s. One of those is mine.”

“What?” I frown. Why would she do that?

She shoves her face close to mine. “That’s how
wrong this is, Kaley. Swabbing all of us is as wrong as you only swabbing
yourself and Khloe and thinking that makes it OK. This is bad. It’s wrong. You
can’t do this without hurting all of us. You didn’t even think of that, did
you?”

I seal the mailing envelope. “For a genius,
Krystal, you are pretty not-smart at times. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know
which tester is which. I’m just mailing all of them off. All I need is two to
match. Bingo. I win.”

She looks away, lower lips quivering and on the
verge of tears as if she’s struggling hard against saying something she doesn’t
want to tell me.

“It’s too late, Krystal. And I have a right to
know who my father is.”

Her eyes are giant, frightened, glassy saucers in
her face when she looks at me. “For a genius, you are pretty not-smart at times
yourself. Don’t do this, Kaley. Please. I’m begging you. You’re going to ruin
everything.”

CHAPTER 20

Zoe
pulls into the curb in front of Velvet Jones, and puts the car in neutral.

I check my texts. No answer from Bobby. My
internal panic grows more severe. It’s probably nothing. I’m just being
paranoid. So he didn’t text me back when I texted him two hours ago. He’s out
having fun with the guys. It was all good when he called me this morning. His
not rapid-fire answering now is nothing to get all butt-hurt over.

Crap, I’m probably just freaking over this
because I’ve been a tight bundle of nerves since I mailed off the kinship test.
Chaotic. Afraid. Regretful. And really confused. So not the reaction I expected
being this close to having the proof that Alan is my dad.

But then, everything has gone into the crapper
since the day I mailed the test. Alan MIA for four days. I didn’t want that; to
fuck with my mom’s happiness. I know he’s staying away because of that scene in
the kitchen and I don’t know what to make of that. And then there’s Mom smiling
in her
life is wonderful
way when the entire house is radiating with her
internal mess. And, fuck, even Krystal is not speaking to me.

Crap, nothing has even happened yet because of
the DNA test and my entire world is crumbling and Krystal won’t even talk to
me.

Zoe turns toward me. “Come on, Kaley. Let’s have
fun. Dance a little. Laugh a little. You look hot. Let’s just go into the club
and forget about everything for one night, OK?”

I frown. “Bobby still hasn’t texted me back.” I
lift my gaze to hers. “You didn’t tell him all the junk that happened, did
you?”

Zoe does a frustrated growl. “No. For the
ten-thousandth time, no. I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my best friend. I’ll
always have your back. That’s how it works.”

She smiles, and I nod.

She makes a silly face. “Good, let’s have fun.”

The valet opens my door and I step out. Crap,
it’s packed tonight. Loud music pours outside from the building. A long line is
waiting down the block. Even paparazzi. Something must be going on in the club.
Thank God Zoe got us on the VIP list.

I strut toward the front of the rope line.
Instantly eyes from every direction follow me in heated stares. Tonight I hate
it. I want green eyes following me in a loving stare.

I wish Bobby were here.

He’s been gone less than a week and I can’t
believe how much I miss him. Thanks a lot, Chrissie, for ruining my life. But
then, Mom is beyond comprehension of late. First she takes away the Tahoe trip,
then my keys, grounding me from my car—thank you, Alan, for whatever you told
her—and then she lets me go out with Zoe, but sets a curfew at 1 a.m., when
I’ve never had a curfew before.

Way to go, Chrissie, if your goal is totally
confusing parenting. I’m surprised she didn’t shove a
family condom
at
me before I left.

Two weeks apart from Bobby is going to be
torture.

The interior of the club is a crush of bodies. We
are let into the upstairs lounge, the private section above the dance floor,
and find two vacant spots on a dark red leather sofa against the glass viewing
wall.

Zoe drops down beside me. “I love being up here.
We can watch everything, and have the guys drool and not be able to get to us.”

The way she says that makes me laugh for the
first time tonight. “You do look amazing.”

She beams. “Yep. I do.” Her gaze shifts to the
waiter closing in on us. “And the serving guys here are freaking hot. What do
you want to drink?”

My brow crinkles. “I don’t want to drink tonight.
It’s no fun to drink when I’m not with Bobby.”

She wraps her arm around me and gives me a shake.
“Come on, Kaley. I’m the DD and you need to lighten up.”

I order an appletini.

An hour later, I’m on my third, we’ve been
laughing nonstop and done more than our share of dancing, though I’ve only
danced with Zoe because it didn’t feel right to dance with a guy other than
Bobby. Not that we haven’t had guys prowling after us and they definitely watch
when we throw shapes on the floor, but we’ve been in our own private zone and
it’s been fun just whooping it up with Zoe.

I smile at her over the rim of my glass. “Thank
you for being such a good friend.” I crinkle my nose. “You were right. I needed
to go out and have fun. I’ve just been so damn down lately.”

Her pretty face clouds with understanding. “Are
you feeling better?”

I make a slight pout. “Not really.”

“Well, that’s because your glass is empty,” says
a deep male voice and I turn in time to see a guy drop down on the sofa beside
Zoe.

She arches a brow. “Excuse me. Did I say you could
sit there?”

I stifle a laugh, but not a smile. It’s amazing
how much more confident she is lately.

The guy drapes his arm across the back of the
couch until his fingers are nearly touching my bare shoulder. “Beautiful girls
shouldn’t be alone.”

Zoe tilts her head, staring at me, and we both
roll our eyes.

He leans around her and points at my empty glass.
“Let me order you another one. I’m Lucky, by the way.”

“Lucky?” Zoe smirks.

He shifts his gaze to me. “Lucky Richter.”

He says that as if his name should mean
something, but it doesn’t to Zoe—and she’s more plugged in to the Hollywood
scene than I am—and it means even less to me.

“I’m with the band,” he says in a way that
conveys he realizes his name means nothing to us. He fixes his eyes on me. “I’d
really like to dance with you.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I say coolly.

“Oh, you want to dance with me.”

Oh crap.

“I’m looking for a girl for a video,” he says
slickly. “A music video. I think you’d be perfect, but I want to see you dance
first.”

Persistent
and
trying to impress me. Band
comment—nope, that one didn’t strike pay dirt with us the way he thought it
would. Name drop—well that was a bust. Artfully cultivated pickup stare—not
bad, but not interested. Music video—just plain lame.

I wonder if girls fall for any of that.

“I don’t want to dance. I don’t want to be in a
video,” I say firmly.

“You’d make piles of money,” he presses. “In six
months, you could be the hottest video girl in LA.”

“Really? Six months?” I say that as if I’m
impressed. “Crap, and here I thought doing the college thing was smart. That
takes four years.”

His eyes flash briefly before he tucks his
annoyance behind a wolfish leer. “Don’t mock me. I make things happen.”

Why can’t he just go away like everyone else with
a soft brush-off? Time to ditch this guy as quickly as I can.

Before I can say anything, Zoe does a wide-eyed
clueless look and says, “Are you really with the band?”

His eyes shift briefly to her and he nods.

“How?” she asks in overinflated excitement.

He frowns. “How what?”

“How are you with them? Marriage or domestic
partnership? Or are you their bitch?”

I laugh—rapid zinger from Zoe so unexpected.

I adjust in my seat and stare through the glass.
“We’re talking and I’d appreciate it if you gave us our space.”

He grins. “You’re drinking. Have one drink with
me. I’m sure if we talked I could convince you to come to the set tomorrow.”

I ignore him and make a show of checking the time
on my phone. Crap. It’s after midnight. Chrissie wanted me home by one, which
is so lame.

“Let’s go, Zoe. I really need to hit it.”

Zoe finishes her mineral water and nods.

“You didn’t give me your name,” Lucky says
quickly.

I smile. “That’s right. I didn’t.”

He starts fishing through his pocket. “Let me
give you my card.”

I don’t take it. “No. Really, not interested.”

We start making our way toward the stairs and,
fudge, he’s close behind.

Zoe leans in to me. “That jerk is stalking us,”
she whispers, annoyed. “I don’t want him following me out to my car and getting
my plates or something. You know if he’s a creeper he can find us that way.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not stalking us. He’s not
going to get your plates. I’m sure of it. But if he follows us to the door,
I’ll get a bouncer to bounce him away from us.”

Her eyes widen. “How can you be sure?”

I pause at the bottom of the stairs and jut my
chin toward the landing above. “Because he’s already running his
I’m with
the band, let me put you in a video
game on another girl.”

Zoe turns and then she crinkles her nose. “What a
slimeball. And definitely not very selective. She looks like—”

“Caroline,” we finish in unison.

We laugh and turns toward the exit.

Oh crap.

We can’t even get to the doors.

A solid wall of bodies blocks the path to the
exit as they crowd near a booth between me and the only way out of here. What
the hell is going on? There’s a noticeable stir above the deafening noise of
the band. I wonder who’s sitting there. It’s after midnight. It’s an elite
rockers’ club. It must be someone with how electrified the chemistry of the
room is.

Crud, they’re in my way.

Great. Freaking great.

“Oh crap, how do we get out of here?” Zoe says
anxiously.

I frown. “Maybe we can get around it by going
through the dance floor. You lead. I’ll follow. I’ll keep a lookout for the
creeper.”

“No, you lead. I’ll follow. You’re the better
dancer,” Zoe teases and then makes a face.

I start making my way through the bouncing throng
of people moving in time with the thumping bassline and shifting in and out of
focus in the flashing lights. I take two steps forward and then spring back to
avoid getting hit. I see a narrow space to cut through. Good, nearly out of
here. It’s swallowed up before I can get there.

I’m knocked several steps off my feet by a flurry
of limbs, I stumble, and then turn. Crap. What happened to Zoe? I ease up on my
tiptoes trying to see above the crowd. God, where’d she go? Nope, can’t see
her.

I try to move toward the stairs and the bodies push
me back the other way. I scan the crowd. I’ll never spot her in this.

I feel a hand on my hip…
thank God
…then it
moves to my butt cheeks…
oh no…
and I whirl. Fuck, it’s the creeper. How
did he get next to me on the dance floor? He grasps my hips and starts moving
his body into me.

“Get your hands off me,” I scream, trying to
break free, but he’s suddenly all hands, clutching and pulling and holding me
against him.

I try to escape, but he’s repulsively strong and
pulls me full-body against him, flattening me against his parts and giving me
the feel of him with his moves. The feel of him is nauseating.

“I have a boyfriend, you asshole!”

He flattens his hands on my behind and lifts me
up against him. Yuck. Enough. I lift my heel from the ground, ready to impale
his foot with my Jimmy Choo, then all the bodies start to move so rapidly I
can’t keep up.

“Get lost. Now. Before I decide to help you
leave,” a low, raspy voice snaps, somehow heard above the thundering music.
“I’m taking you home. Now.”

I’m released so abruptly the world spins and my
mind can’t keep up with the shifting patterns in front of me. “Fuck off,” I
scream at the creeper.

Lucky skedaddles away.

Breathing heavily to steady myself, all at once I
become aware of a sudden unnatural hush surrounding me.

Then I see what everyone is staring at.

My thoughts race off in a dozen directions.

Oh fuck, that’s Alan.

Did he really just save me from the creeper?

I was doing fine on my own.

Those black eyes start burning in to me and my
body covers in prickles. Damn, he’s pissed. I didn’t scream
fuck off
at
him, but by his expression I can tell he thinks I did and he is furious.

This is freaking humiliating. Reality smacks me
in the face with sudden clarity. I just created a scene in the middle of a
packed club with Alan Manzone. Yep, there are already cell phones out catching
this Kodak moment on video.

I want to drop through the floor.

This is going to be awful.

“Does your mother know you’re here?” he snaps.

Nervously, I babble the first words in my head. “Does
my mother know you’re here? Better question.”

OK, that was a little funny. Not even a smile.
Shit!

He gives me
the stare.
“Do you have a
car?”

Why is he studying me that way? Oh great, he
thinks I’m drunk. Nope, not doing this concerned friend of the family routine.
You want to act like my father, admit you are my father.