The Party (12 page)

Nick’s worst nightmare was coming true. They were in the car together, driving down the road, and they had absolutely nothing to say to each other. He didn’t even know where he was taking her. He had assumed she would suggest a place she wanted to eat, the movie she wanted to see. Now he suspected she was waiting for him to make the decision. Unfortunately, he hardly knew the area. He didn’t want to risk taking her to the local doghouse. The silence between them dragged on and on.

“How was the library?” he asked finally.

“Fine.”

“Did you get a lot of homework done?”

“I should have done more. What did you do today?”

“I worked at the store in the morning. Then I just hung out.”

“Oh.”

They’d had a couple of other mini conversations like this. They had also ended with “oh.” The word could be used in practically any situation. Nick worried that they would keep coming back to it all night. He felt he had to say something different, something to break them out of their rut. Actually, he wanted to tell her how happy he was that she had agreed to go out with him, but since he was feeling rather miserable at the moment, he was afraid it would come out sounding insincere. He decided on a different tact.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Good.”

“That’s good.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I mean, I’m OK.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I was just asking.”

“Oh.”

See—now he had said it. He was seriously debating whether he should give up right then and there and take her home when he noticed her staring at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“Why would I be mad? I’m not mad.”

“I didn’t invite you to my house.”

“That’s all right. You were working at the library.”

“That didn’t fool you, Nick.”

Her saying his name—on top of her confession—seemed to loosen something in the air. At home, he seldom heard his name. He didn’t think his dad had said it in the last five years. “Is it your parents?” he asked.

She nodded. “They don’t know I’m out with you.”

“They don’t let you date?”

She hesitated. “Not exactly.”

“Oh.” The light turned red. Stopping, he rolled down the window. The outside air had cooled significantly. They must be getting close to the beach. Naturally, what she said did not surprise him. That was the thing about being one of the few blacks in the neighborhood—you got used to everything. “Do you feel guilty?”

“No. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“But I could be getting you into trouble?”

“You won’t. I’m spending the night at a friend’s.”

It stung to hear how she’d had to set everything up beforehand. Maybe he was mad at her, a little. “Does this friend have parents?” he asked. “You know, they might see me accidentally.”

She turned toward him. “I’m sorry.”

The regret came swift. “No, Maria, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“My parents are good people. They just feel they have to be cautious. They haven’t had easy lives.”

He waited till the light turned green, then drove across the street and parked near the curve. Behind Maria, through a patch in the bushes along the sidewalk, he saw a blue slice of ocean, the warm brown of sand. He turned off the engine. “And you feel you have to be cautious, too, right?”

She nodded, watching him.

“Why?”

“I just have to be.”

“Then what are you doing with me?”

She didn’t answer, but continued to stare. She seemed scared, not of him, but of what he might say. He said it anyway. “You and your parents are illegal aliens, aren’t you?”

She trembled, ever so slightly. “Yes,” she whispered.

“There were lots in my old neighborhood.”

She nodded. “I knew.”

“What?”

“You would know. When I met you at the soda machines, you looked like someone—who knew who didn’t belong.”

He chuckled. “I suppose a bloody head might give someone that idea.” Then he got serious. “What’s the big crime? They’ve loosened the laws. Stay here a few years and they’ll make you a citizen.”

“That’s not how it works. We got here after the amnesty deadline. In Washington there’s talk about changing the requirements, but until then we could be sent home anytime.”

“How did you get registered at school?”

“My dad paid this man some money. He made me a phony birth certificate.”

“How long have you been in the country?”

“Almost two years. We’re from El Salvador.”

“How is it there?”

She tensed. “Not good. I like it better here.” She gently touched his knee. He could not remember when he had last been touched by a female. Probably by his mom, before she had split eight years ago. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind? I worry too much about it as it is.”

“What would you like to do?”

She brightened. “Eat. I’m starving. You don’t know where you’re going, do you?”

He smiled. “No.”

She told him about a Mexican restaurant next to the pier. Nick restarted the car. She hadn’t asked him to keep her secret. She’d automatically trusted him to do so. He was glad.

Russ had half a roast beef sandwich in his hand when Sara answered the door, the other half in his mouth. “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbled, chewing.

He had on blue jeans, a torn red T-shirt, and sandals. Sara silently cursed Jessica for talking her into dressing up. He hadn’t even combed his hair. “Did you have trouble finding the place?” she asked diplomatically.

“No.”

Polly popped her head out the side of the door. “Hi, Russ! How are you doing?”

He grinned. “Hanging in there, babe. How are you?”

Sara pushed Polly out of the way. “We’ve got to go. Remember to feed the cat.” She stepped outside, shutting the door in Polly’s face. That girl only liked a guy when he belonged to someone else. “Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have a car. I’ve got a truck. It’s right there.”

Sara grimaced. It looked like he used it for hauling. She pointed to the mound of grass piled in the back. “Do you keep a cow, or what?”

He didn’t think that was funny. “My old man’s a gardener. What’s yours do?”

“He shuffles papers.” He was a bank president.

“Does he use a truck to deliver them?”

Jessica had warned her to watch her mouth. Jessica said guys didn’t appreciate being made fools of. “Ah, yeah.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked as they walked toward his truck.

“I’m hungry.”

He took another bite of his sandwich. “You haven’t had dinner?”

“No. I thought we were going to eat together?”

“That’s cool. Let’s go to the McDonald’s in the mall.”

“The McDonald’s?”

He opened the passenger door, and as he did so, she caught a whiff of his breath. The empty beer cans littering his front seat only confirmed her fears. “You’ve been drinking,” she said.

“Is there a law against it? If you want, we can go to the Burger King instead.”

“How many beers have you had?” Judging by his empties, he’d put away several six-packs; but that seemed unlikely.

“Why? I can drive.”

“How many?”

“I can’t remember.”

“I’m driving.” She held out her hand. He stared at it a moment before giving her the keys.

“Do you know how to drive a stick?”

“I learned on a stick,” she said, reaching into the passenger side and removing what was left of a six-pack. “I’m putting these in the back, under the grass. I don’t want some cop stopping and arresting us.” As it was, her license was still in suspension.

“They’ll get warm,” he protested. “One of them’s half full.”

“I don’t care.”

The driver’s seat was encrusted not only with dirt, sweat, and more dead grass, but also had a dozen or so of those little thorny balls that get stuck on clothes at picnics. She looked down at her white dress, running her fingers over the clean smooth fabric. She’d bought it in Hollywood at a designer shop for big bucks. Then she looked over at Russ: food in his mouth, hair in his face, not much going on behind his eyes.

What the hell am I doing with this guy?

But it was right then that he showed the first trace of decency he had since their collision when he stopped during the race to see if she’d been hurt. Without her even asking, he pulled off his shirt and draped it over her seat. And sitting there naked from the waist up, his powerfully developed chest warm and brown in the evening sunlight, he seemed to her, if not perfect, at least worthy of consideration. She got in.

“You’ve got to watch the brakes,” he said as she fiddled with the clutch. King Kong could hardly have pressed the thing in.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“They don’t always work.”

She stopped. “You can’t be serious?”

He shrugged. “If you don’t like it, let’s take your car. That’ll give me a chance to look in your trunk.”

She didn’t have her car; Jessica had picked her up. “What’s in my trunk?”

“I think that’s where you put my axe.”

Sara leaned her head on the steering, totally reversing her opinion of a moment ago. “Jesus,” she whispered.

Dinner had been fabulous. Probably because the restaurant overlooked the ocean, they’d both been in the mood for seafood; she’d had a shrimp salad, and Michael, swordfish. Although she was already stuffed, the pastry tray the waitress had brought by a moment ago was too much of a temptation. Fortunately, Michael promised to eat half the chocolate cake she had ordered. She was going to have to jog a few miles this weekend to make up for tonight. She didn’t care. She was having a great time.

Initially, while thinking about the date that afternoon, she had worried she would come off seeming stupid, shallow. She had always done well in school, but since third grade, she had felt she was faking it. She got good grades, she thought, because she studied twice as much as anybody else. She saw herself as an overachiever and feared that one day, someday, she would be found out. Everyone would know she didn’t really belong in the accelerated math class, or chemistry for that matter.

Yet rather than trying to hide her insecurity from the smartest guy around, she found herself confiding in him about it. She wasn’t even sure why, other than that Michael was an excellent listener.

“I keep reading about the average GPAs of the kids who get into Stanford,” she said. “And their SAT scores. They’re so high! I’m not taking the test until December, and I’ve already bought a couple of those study guide books. I took a trial test a couple of nights ago. I won’t tell you what I scored. Let’s just say if I do as well on the real test, I’m going to save my dad a lot of money on tuition fees. I swear to God, sometimes I think I’m going to end up at the local junior college.”

“What do you want to major in at Stanford?” he asked. He had taken a fancy to the candle on their table and was playfully running his fingers above the flame. She didn’t doubt she had his full attention, however; he wasn’t staring, but his eyes seldom wandered far from her face. Once again, she wondered how he saw her.

“My parents eventually want me to get into broadcasting. They tell me I’ve got the voice, the personality. They think a major in journalism, with a minor in communications, would give me a solid background. I know some of those girls on the news make a lot of money. What do you think?”

“I think I asked the wrong question.”

She smiled. “What do you mean?”

He momentarily took his hand away from the candle, caught her eye. “You keep telling me what your parents want.”

She started to answer, stopped. He’d hit pretty close to home with that one. “They are paying the bills,” she muttered.

He backed off. “I didn’t mean they were giving you bad advice. They obviously care a great deal about you.”

“No, you’re right. I need to hear this. I should major in what
I
want. It is my life, after all. But that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. Being an anchorperson on TV looks glamorous. Everyone knows who you are. You’re where the action is. But that’s looking at it from the outside in. For all I know, I might hate it.”

He nodded. “That’s true. But if you really are interested, you probably could get a summer job at a TV station. You might only change lights, but at least you’d get a feel for the environment.”

“That’s an idea.” She made a mental note to check on that.

“What about Stanford?”

“What about it? Don’t you think it’s a good school?”

“It’s one of the best. Is that why you’ve chosen it?”

He’d caught her again. “My dad went to Stanford,” she admitted. “I grew up browsing through his college yearbooks. I know all the sororities on campus, even the Stanford school song. I don’t know, it’s so hard to get into, I’ve always felt that if you graduated from Stanford, you would be one of the elite.” She leaned forward. She really wanted his approval. “Does that sound like too snobbish a reason?”

He chuckled. “I’m the last person to ask.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m jealous,
I
won’t be going to Stanford.”

“Why not? You’ve got the grades. You’ll probably get super high SAT scores.”

He looked down. “I can’t afford it.”

She had to remember that not everybody’s dad made six figures a year. He must have borrowed the Jaguar for their date. “Couldn’t you get a scholarship?”

He shrugged. She may have been embarrassing him. “It’s a possibility, but I’d hate to be that far away from my mom. She sort of likes having me around.”

He’d said nothing about his family. “Is your mom divorced?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have any brothers or sisters, do you?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. I wish I did. I sort of envy Polly sometimes. She’s got Alice.” He glanced up suddenly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“It really surprised me that you knew her. She never told me. When did you meet?”

“Last Christmas?”

“Really? Where?”

“At the store where I work. The Seven Eleven on Western.”

“I’ve been in there a couple of times. I never saw you. Is it a part time job?”

“Fifty hours a week.”

“Wow.” He lived in a different world, she realized. He made money, carried his own weight. She charged everything, ran up the phone bill. And from what he said, he watched out for his mom, when all she did was fight with her parents about nothing. She lived such a superficial life.

But what can I do? I’m already spoiled.

She decided she couldn’t possibly accept his help with chemistry. He undoubtedly had little time to himself.

She leaned over, blew out the candle beneath his hand. “Come on, Michael. We don’t need the cake. I’m taking you to that movie I promised.”

They called for the check. She put up a fight, but he insisted on paying. Out in the car, they checked a paper he’d brought. They couldn’t make up their minds what to see and decided to head back to the mall near campus where they would have six shows to choose from.

Driving along Pacific Coast Highway, the salty air pouring in through the open windows, the sun setting over the water, they slipped into a quiet spell. Relaxing into the seat, she glanced over, studying his profile. For a moment she wished that it had been he who had asked her out, that this was a
real
date. He didn’t have Bill Skater’s startling blue eyes, his strong jaw. But his face was appealing, particularly now, with his dark eyes intent upon the road, his thoughts seemingly far away. And he had something else she liked. He was kind.

Twenty minutes later, while reviewing the movie posters outside the mall’s theaters, they heard their names called.

“Maria!” she cried, turning.

“Hi, Nick,” Michael said. “It’s a small city.”

They made an interesting couple. Maria couldn’t have been five feet tall, and Nick had to be pushing six and a half. They were not holding hands, but Jessica noticed how close they stood, how their arms and sides brushed as they approached. She had been curious to meet Nick. She’d heard such contrasting stories: that he was a bloodthirsty maniac; that he had risked his life to protect Russ Desmond from a huge toppling mirror; that he had the strength of ten guys. Watching him now shaking Michael’s hand, shyly saying hello to her, she marveled at his politeness.

They decided to team up. But if it was difficult for two to choose a movie, it was impossible for four. Not that they were each insisting their own personal taste be the deciding factor. On the contrary, Michael, Nick, and Maria refused to volunteer any preference, and Jessica didn’t know what she wanted to see. They had time. They decided to have ice cream first.

They ran into Bubba and Clair inside the 31 Flavors.

Meeting him at the game, Jessica had thought Bubba a wonderful character, not someone she would like to get too close to, but a guy it would be nice to run into from time to time when she needed a taste of the extraordinary. He obviously had Sara’s highly developed sense of self confidence, as well as her wit. Yet he seemed somehow both more fun loving and more devious. She had been surprised to learn he had been a friend of Michael’s for many years.

Bubba took charge of the introductions. When it was time for Jessica to formally meet Clair, Jessica found herself becoming defensive. She’d heard what Clair had said in the student council meeting about how all the female transfers from Mesa were dogs.

“Clair, this is someone you have to know,” Bubba said, excited. “Miss Jessica Hart. She used to be a cheerleader at Mesa. The best they had, I’ve been told. Jessie, meet my pal, Clair Hilrey.” He chuckled. “Clair
is
the best.”

Clair blushed at Bubba’s remark, remaining seated beside a half consumed banana split. She had an overall flushed look, as if she had just been out in the sun, or exercising. A thin gold necklace glittered at her throat. Crossing her exquisite long legs, she offered her hand. “I’ve heard about you,” she said sweetly. “I’ve been wanting to meet you.”

Jessica shook her hand. She wondered what Clair was doing with short, fat Bubba, whether this meant Bill and she weren’t a couple, anymore. She forced a smile. “I’ve seen you at the games.”

“Yeah?”

“Cheering, you know.” Who did this girl’s hair? Jessica wondered. That person should be doing her own.

Clair glanced at Bubba, giggled. “That’s what we cheerleaders do here at Tabb.”

“Yeah,” Bubba said. “They’re full of spirit. They never get tired. Hey, why don’t you guys join us? We’re going to go to the movies in a few minutes.”

Michael and Nick didn’t react to the suggestion one way or the other, although Maria did not seem particularly enthusiastic. The three of them appeared to be waiting for her decision. Clair smiled at her again, the fine lines of arrogance beautifully arranged around her wide, sensual mouth. Jessie almost felt as if Clair were challenging her to stay.
Come on girl, see who all the boys start fawning over.
Jessica met her eyes. “That sounds like fun,” she said.

They ate ice cream, lots of it, until they were all sick and groaning. Then they headed back to the theaters. They didn’t have to worry about selecting a movie. Bubba did it for them. He’d read the reviews and heard the inside Hollywood buzz, he said, and they would be crazy to see anything else. It was something about a female vampire from outer space who didn’t wear any clothes.

Michael had been right. It
was
a small city. They bumped into Sara and Russ next, standing in line for the same movie. Russ must have picked it; Jessica knew how much Sara hated anything sci-fi. Indeed, Sara didn’t appear to be having a thrilling night. She pulled Jessica aside the first chance she got.

“I’m going nuts,” she hissed, while the others talked together in line. “Do you know where he took me for dinner?”

“Where?”

“I’ll let you guess. The menu was fabulous. We had a choice of hamburgers: single patty, double patty, cheese on top, and cheese on the bottom. Then we had our choice of shakes: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate. Of course, if you ordered the full dinner, you got complimentary French fries.”

“That sounds like McDonald’s?”

“Very good. But dinner was the fun part. Before that, he let me take him for a scenic drive in his garbage truck. And guess what? Two local civil servants stopped us to point out the twenty bushels of dead grass we had flying out the back.”

“You were driving? Did they ask for your license?”

“That they did. Fortunately, my less than sober male companion ingeniously told them I had accidentally left it in the back before we had piled in the grass. The cops didn’t mind. They told me to dig it out. They even helped me. And guess what they found?”

“More dead grass?”

“No. Beer. Alcohol. That stuff they sell to people after they are twenty one years of age. They found three cans, and one of them was open. That’s against the law, in case you didn’t know.”

“Did you get a ticket?” Sara’s license was already in suspension; another ticket and they would probably tear it up.

“No, I got arrested!”

“No!”

“I had to take a sobriety test. I had to walk in a straight line and breathe in a bag. And get this, all the while Russ—drunk out of his gord—got to sit there and watch!”

“Did you get a ticket?” she repeated. Sara had not been arrested.

“No, I got humiliated! Then I had to eat a greasy hamburger, which gave me indigestion. And now I’ve got to watch some goddamn flick about a blood sucking pinup.”

She glared in the direction of her date, fuming. “I wish the cops had given me a urine test. Then I could have thrown it in his face.”

“But do you like him? Are you having fun?”

“Shut up. What are you guys going to see?”

“The same thing you are.” Jessica noticed Clair fixing Michael’s collar, her polished nails brushing the back of his neck. Bubba noticed, too, and didn’t seem to care. Jessica couldn’t say the same for herself.

Am I jealous? I can’t be jealous. He’s just a friend.

“Let’s get back in line,” she said.

Clair backed away from Michael the moment they returned. For the first time that night, Jessica took Michael’s hand. Clair whispered something in Bubba’s ear, causing him to laugh.

“What’s up?” Michael asked innocently. Jessica pulled him close, squeezed the top of his arm, smiled.

“I am.” Maybe, just maybe, he would be more than a friend.

The fireworks between Sara and Russ were not over. When Russ reached the ticket window, he discovered he didn’t have enough money for two admissions. He asked Sara if she could spring for a few dollars. Sara stared at him for a long time before responding. Jessica silently hoped Sara was using the time to calm herself. She might just as well have been hoping for a gallon of gasoline to put out a fire.

“What?” Sara asked softly. “
You
want money from
me
?
You
want
me
to pay for
your
movie? Is that what
you
want?”

Poor Russ, he was looking right into the face of a volcano and he couldn’t feel the heat. The girl behind the ticket window waited with an expression of infinite boredom. “Yeah,” he said.

Sara took out her purse, opened it for all to see. She must have had forty bucks, in tens and fives, and plenty of change. She smiled when she saw the money, and Jessica shivered. It was a crooked smile Sara saved for special occasions, immediately before she exploded into a frenzy.