There You'll Find Me (21 page)

“Maybe I don’t want to.” He massaged the back of his neck. “I thought we were friends.” Something swam in those eyes. Something searching, almost plaintive. “Finley, I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry. But my life isn’t my own. There are things about this business you don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” Like the fact that Beckett was a master manipulator and a total player.

“No,” he said. “You don’t. Besides, how are you going to get to all those destinations you have mapped out? Are you going to give up on that too?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Or you let me take you. Like we originally discussed.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you here.”

His forceful words hung between us, balancing between his interpretation and mine. “What does that even mean?” That he liked me? That he wanted to spend time with me?

When he looked at me, the rogue was all gone. Instead I saw a guy who was tired, who was in high demand from everyone who knew him. “The director was threatening to replace me on the movie just a month ago.” He spoke softly, as if his words might leak through the walls of the trailer. “Then you came along and helped me with my lines, and I had him shoving contracts in my face for the next deal.”

“So I’m a good-luck charm?” Bitterness pierced my ego like a pin. Why did I even care?

Beckett reached out with both hands and slowly lifted my stocking cap off my head. He ran a hand over my hair and smiled. “Static.”

I grabbed my hat from his grip. “Your improved acting skills have nothing to do with me.”

He planted his hand over the space above my head again and sighed. “I can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

“You’re real, Finley.”

You’re flawed. You’re not perfect like every other girl I see
.

So what if I was real? I didn’t live in Hollywood.

“I’m just . . . comfortable around you. Everyone else is so fake, so eager to kiss my butt, to tell me yes when the answer is no. That’s not what I want. Nobody else but the director has the guts to tell me when I deliver a bad line or mess up a scene. But you. I need honest feedback right now.”

“Ask your dad.”

Beckett’s eyebrows slammed together. “He’d yell anyone to the ground who suggested I wasn’t delivering an Oscar performance with every word.”

“Sounds very encouraging to me—”

“No.” His jaw tensed. “I want someone who’ll just be truthful. Do you have any idea how little honesty I see? I can’t trust anyone. But you barely tolerate me.” His lips quirked. “It’s perfect.”

“Sorry. Not interested. Our agreement was that I help out as your assistant. I owe you nothing more.”

“Do you want to find that gravestone in your brother’s pictures?”

“Of course I do. But I also distinctly remember you said it was impossible.”

“I’ll make it happen.”

“You said yourself there were thousands—”

“Trust me.”

My laugh was low and cynical. “I might not be at the top of my class, but I’m not a total idiot.”

“I’m asking you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was so sincere, but he was an actor. “Do this as my friend, and I’ll find the site of the photo.”

“Beckett?” I crooked my finger and he leaned close until my lips were near his ear.

“Yes?”

“Find yourself another friend.”

Chapter Eighteen

In the Bible you said your constant love and truth will always guard me. I can’t believe parts of the Dun Aengus fortress still stand. It made me think how as crazy as it is, even though this has been on Inishmore Island over thousands of years, you’re always with me. You stay the same. Nothing wears you down.

—Travel Journal of Will Sinclair, Abbeyglen, Ireland

H
e kissed you?”

Erin stopped in her tracks right in front of the entrance to school, as if the shock had paralyzed her legs.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. Finley, that’s awesome.”

“No, it’s not. It’s awful.”

“I’d take that kind of awful
any
day,” she said. “But be honest. Didn’t any part of you just . . . hope?”

“It’s not that I thought he liked me. I know that kiss was simply a diversion.” Just something Beckett did on a regular basis with any chick with lips. “But still. There might’ve been the tiniest sliver of my heart in that. Some part of me who wanted Beckett to say, ‘I’ve never felt anything like I did when I kissed you.’”

“It’s like Shakespeare.”

Then the fantasy continued with a few declarations of adoration, some proclamations of my intoxicating beauty. “Well, it’s not going to happen. So pretend like you know nothing about a kiss.”

Erin sighed. “Sadly, I don’t.”

I stepped through the doors of Sacred Heart and reality smacked me back to earth with the smell of disinfectant mixed with the perfume of a few hundred girls. My pulse scurried as I realized I’d forgotten two notebooks and a work sheet at home.

God, help me
.

Erin and I walked into English class, and the temperature dropped a good thirty degrees.

I found the source of the cold as I took my seat in front of Beatrice.

My smile was friendly, as if I hadn’t a care in the world. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” She studied her notes for our quiz on
Macbeth
, not even bothering to look at me. “Taylor said you weren’t too happy about her and Beckett in the tabloids.”

“I really don’t care. Beckett and I are friends. That’s all.” And no longer that.

She turned a page of notes. “You throw yourself at him at every opportunity. It’s embarrassing really.”

I
threw myself at him? Me? “That’s an . . . interesting perspective. But I think we both know it’s not true.”

“I know what I’ve seen.” Her lip curled into a snarl. “You know it’s best for both of their careers if they’re a couple—as long as they’re doing these movies.”

“And Taylor’s success means more roles for you?” Because this was more than Beatrice being protective of her cousin’s “boyfriend.” This was strictly about Beatrice.

“It’s public knowledge he’s with Taylor.”

Was he? I just didn’t know anymore. Nor did I understand why he wouldn’t come right out and tell me. “I’m his assistant. That’s it.” Or I
was
his assistant.

“And wasn’t that clever of you to get that job?” Bea sat back in her chair, her spine as straight as the wall behind her. “Watch yourself, Finley.” She snapped her binder shut. “I’d hate for you to do something you’d regret.”

“All right, class. Clear your desks.” Mrs. Campbell passed out the quiz, and I turned back to the front.

I was reading question number six when I felt the first poke.

I glanced behind me, but Beatrice was writing furiously on her paper.

When I got to question number ten, she jabbed me again.

“What?” I hissed.

I was going to rip that pencil out of her little manicured hand.

“Finley Sinclair,” Mrs. Campbell said, her accent as sharp as the gaze over her bifocals. “Is there a problem?”

I darted a look at Beatrice, then shook my head. “No, ma’am.”

After the quiz, Mrs. Campbell put us into groups to read the next act of
Macbeth
. Just as I was giving my best performance ever of Lady Macbeth, I saw Beatrice walk with Mrs. Campbell into the hall. I continued reading, though it was hard to totally throw myself into character when the role of my husband was played by a chick named Teresa Muldoon.

Mrs. Campbell stuck her head back into the room. “Finley, may I see you, please?”

Beatrice stepped back inside, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Yes?” I said as I joined the teacher outside.

She held up my quiz. Then Beatrice’s. “Would you like to explain this?”

I squinted to see the red grade. “We both need to study better?”

“Miss Sinclair, twice I caught you turning around looking at Beatrice’s paper.”

“I wasn’t looking at her paper. She—”

“And then I see you two made the same exact grade. And not only that, but missed the same questions.”

“But she was—”

“And
both
put some of the same ridiculous guesses. Now what do you say?”

I took another glance at the quizzes. “My guesses were completely original. And it ticks me off that she obviously copied them.”

“Yes, your answer to the question of what makes Duncan a good king?” She read from my test. “He has a really cool crown.”

Her tone was dry as the pork chops Nora served for dinner last night. “Very impressive. You could’ve at least studied enough to know when you were copying a completely ridiculous answer.”

“But I didn’t copy. I came up with that ridiculous answer all by myself.
Beatrice
copied!”
In all these things, I am more than victorious through Him who loves me .
. .

“I saw you turned around myself.”

“Because she was jabbing me with her pencil.”

Mrs. Campbell regarded me as if I’d just told her the sky was purple. And even I heard how unbelievable it sounded. Because what eighteen-year-old girl purposely poked someone with a pencil as part of a diabolical scheme to get someone in trouble? Beatrice Plummer.

“I get how this looks. But I am telling you the truth.” Heat crept up my neck. Frustration pressed at my temples. Because Beatrice had been at this school forever. Her father was the principal, and she was the one with credibility. I was just the heiress with a bad reputation that seemed to have followed me from America.

“I am very disappointed in you. I will have to report this, and it will go on your record.” Mrs. Campbell lifted her chin and looked down her nose. “Let us assume it is your last disciplinary action.”

“But I didn’t do this. I promise I—”

“We’re done here.” Mrs. Campbell opened the door, and with my hands clenched, I walked inside the classroom.

Where all the girls watched me.

Including one who wore a telltale smirk.

“You’re going to love the Aran Islands.” Nora parked by the dock and smiled at me and Erin as we unbuckled. “Beckett’s such a busy thing, it’s no wonder he hasn’t been able to take you. I guess something got in the way.”

Erin elbowed me as we walked toward the ferry. “Like his lips on yours.”

“No matter.” Nora handed our tickets to a burly man in a coat as the wind pushed right through my jacket. “With Sean and Liam taking care of the house, it finally gives me a chance to take you about. I’ve been remiss in my duties, I have. This will be just the thing to get your mind off that terrible Beatrice. That principal father of hers is no better.” Nora continued to grumble as we climbed aboard the open ferry.

I had called her as soon as I’d gotten out of English, and she came and picked up me and Erin. After going nose to nose with Principal Plummer, which got us nowhere, Nora just checked us out and asked us what we wanted to do with the day.