Twisted Proposal (31 page)

“Did you forget something last weekend? Where were you?” Carli asked, her voice rising to a whiny pitch.

Jackson glanced at his friends, then back at her. “Around. Why, what did I forget?”

“My birthday!” She crossed her arms, and the guys booed Jackson.
How dramatic,
I thought, but I made no attempt to change the bored expression on my face.             

“Well now, we can’t have that, can we?” He slid out of the Jacuzzi. His dark blue swim shorts were shorter than I had anticipated. I stifled a laugh. He wrapped a towel around his chiseled waist and joined us.

“Something funny, Addison?” His icy tone frightened me.

              “No,” I replied.             

              He took the champagne from Carli, staring at her with puppy dog eyes, and then turned and tossed the drink on me. I stepped back, fire in my eyes, as the chilly liquid drenched my hot skin.

“You looked like you needed a drink,” he commented.             

              Before I could stop myself, I swiped a glass of red wine from the nearest table and splashed it on him. Red liquid covered his chest and made purple squiggly lines on his white towel.

              “That was $1000 wine!” He disappeared inside.             

              “Addison, was that necessary?” Carli cried, running after him.

“You want to join us? We’ll clean you up,” one of the guys from the Jacuzzi offered.

              “Hardly.” I found the kitchen, which was three times the size of Stuart’s.  At the sink, I dabbed the stain off my white-collared shirt. I rinsed out the rag and wiped off my face, vaguely aware that someone was watching me.             

              I turned to see Mr. Van Buren dressed in a silk vest and white shirt. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I continued to scrub my shirt. This was not how I planned on seeing him again.

              “I wasn’t expecting to find you in my kitchen. Why are you here? I thought you needed a break from my son?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.

“Carli felt the need to ruin my day." I took a breath. "You’re home early.”

“I am?”

“I would expect a man like you to never come home before 7:00 p.m.” I took off my jacket and turned my back to him. Then I peeled off the sticky shirt and put my jacket back on. He was standing near the fridge with a strange expression on his face. I walked over to him, and he backed away.
Was he afraid of me?

He opened the fridge.

I moved closer to him. “Would you like a snack?” I asked. He still hadn’t budged.

“And how you would know what I like? Now, that’s a little presumptuous, even for you, Addison. Where’s my son?”

              I grabbed a container of chocolate mousse and slammed the door shut.

“I already told you. With Carli.” I dropped the container on the counter. ”Here don’t choke on it,” I said, fleeing the room.

Chapter Thirty-One

That didn’t go exactly as I had hoped. Instead of making some kind of strong impression on him, I had just made a fool of myself.

              “Addison?” a female voice asked, stopping me in my tracks. I pivoted to see Mrs. Van Buren standing under an archway. “Would you mind coming with me?”

              I knew I probably looked a mess. My hair reeked of alcohol, and I was wearing my jacket with only the middle button snapped, exposing my stomach. She led me to a sitting room where she dropped gracefully onto a couch and patted the seat next to her. "Sit with me. I wanted to discuss a few things with you.”

              “Okay.” I perched on the edge of the sofa and shoved my hair behind my ears, feeling like I was in trouble or something.

              “After what happened with you and my stepson, I believe it’s in your best interest not to marry him. How do you feel about this?”

              I didn’t answer right away. I wanted her to think I was unsure. “It’s definitely
not
something I was anticipating when I moved in with my father.”

              She smiled. “Of course not, but I understand this can be a valuable opportunity for you. And even though my husband feels strongly that you’re the right one, I disagree.” It was clear she didn't approve of the arrangement.
Thank god.

              “Why am I here?” I asked, dropping the niceness from my voice. I wasn’t in the mood to be lectured.

              She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think you’re the best choice for Jackson. He’s special and requires special attention from a special kind of woman, someone more mature.”

I chuckled.
Was she really telling me this?
“How long have you been sleeping with him, Morgan?” I asked as I stood. Her face drained of its color. “I grew up with a woman just like you. So you can drop the act.” She didn’t say anything. I walked around the room to let the tension rise. “Lucky for you, I agree. So how do I change your husband’s mind?”

She looked confused. “You really don’t want to marry Jackson?”

              “No.”

              “I thought you--”

              “You thought wrong. Now if you can tell me how to get out of this mess, I would be grateful.” I lifted my broken wrist.

“Jackson did that?”

              “Among other things. My father’s useless. He’s only concerned about his promotion. Jackson marries me. He gets a partnership in the firm. So I need help.” I plopped back down on the couch and picked up a magazine. My photo was on the cover. “What this?” It had been taken the night I went to the party with Jackson. I looked dangerous. My eyes stared straight at you; my expression was direct and cold.

              “That’s what I was going to show you. It’s my fashion magazine. It’s a prototype. I need to finish taking pictures, but I plan on sending it out next year.”

              “Huh? Don’t you need my permission or something?”

              “I’d have to say you’re a natural. My people love you, but I told them you weren’t really into the modeling thing.”

              “I’m not.” I put the magazine down. “So, what now?” I asked, peeking over at her.

“We can hope Jackson gets bored with you and moves on. He’s been at this for years now.”

              “Why is your husband so worried about Jackson getting married? Oh wait, I already know the answer to that.”
He was a whack job.
I stared at the fireplace in front of me. A family portrait of the Van Burens hung above the mantel. There were five of them all together, including two boys I hadn’t met yet.

              “Maybe I can try to persuade his father that Jackson’s still too young or something, but you would have to do something for me.”

              “Anything.”

              “We have to finish taking these pictures. When your hand is healed, call me, and I’ll set up the shoot, okay?”

              “Fine.”

“Addison, where are you?” Carli called from the hallway.

              “In here.” Morgan wrinkled her nose, and a frosty expression settled on her face as Carli walked into the room.

              “Oh, I didn’t know you were busy.” She turned to leave.

              “We’re finished. How are you, Carli?” Morgan said.

              “I’m fine, ma’am.”

“That’s nice." Morgan tapped me on the shoulder. "You'll think about what we discussed?" Before I could answer, she rose from the couch. "Now if you'll excuse me, girls, I’m going to take care of some business.”

              “That lady hates me,” Carli said as soon as Morgan had disappeared. She plopped down next to me and grimaced.

I shook my head. “She does not. It’s just her face.”

Carli laughed. “If you say so.” She twisted the diamond bracelet on her wrist so that it sparkled in the light. When she caught me staring, she smiled. “Jackson gave it to me for my birthday. It was wrapped and everything. He said he was with his dad doing business. I hate that he’s busy all the time now.”

I wanted to tell her that Jackson probably had a hundred prepared presents to woo girls. ”We should go home.”

Carli was quiet as she backed her car out of the driveway. We had just merged onto the highway when she blurted, “I’m going to marry that boy someday!”

              I stared at her for a moment, then laughed. “Yeah, okay.”
If she only knew the truth.

              Carli tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “What? You don’t think I can?”

              “No, Jackson’s not the marrying type.” She didn't know he wasn't worth marrying, that she would be sorry if she did. I said nothing. She would blame the messenger, and besides, she wouldn't believe me anyway.

              Carli picked up speed, weaving and in and out of traffic, sometimes cutting it too close for comfort. “How do you know? You just moved here.” Her voice was cold.

              “It’s not that hard to figure out.” I sighed. "Find a nice rich guy who will treat you well. Not Jackson."

              Carli snapped her head up to glare at me, then faced forward, her mouth set in a grim line. She didn’t speak to me the rest of ride home and drove off as soon as I exited the car.

***

              On Monday, I learned she was
really
pissed when she wasn’t waiting for me before school.

“She’s telling everyone that you’re jealous of her and Jackson’s relationship,” Kristen reported at lunch. We were sitting at the un-cool table. I glanced at Carli, who was showing off her bracelet.

“What relationship? I am so not jealous of that,” I said as I picked up a cold French fry. It was amazing how fast things could come undone here.

“Can you please make up with her? Because she’s avoiding me too.” Kristin looked so pitiful, and her eyes were red like she’d been crying. I sighed.
Why did I even care?

But, as the last bell rang, I waited for Carli outside her last class, where she had one-on-one counseling with Dr. Morrison.             

              “What do you want?” she asked through a clenched- tooth smile when she exited Dr. Morrison’s office. Her lipstick was smeared like she had making out with someone.

              “I want to know why you’re spreading rumors about me.” I studied my nails. “And why you give me crap for liking older guys?” I pointed to her lips, and she swiped at her mouth.

“It’s not what you think.” She rushed past me.

              “I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you are worried about. I have better things to do than gossip.” I trailed her to her car and opened the passenger door as if I assumed she would give me ride.

              “Whatever.” She threw her bag in the back and motioned for me to get in. Then she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. Her voice was muffled. “Jackson told me that it was never going to work out between us last night. I don’t even know why?” She sniffled. “He doesn’t even want to have sex anymore.”

“It’s okay. You deserve better than that.”

              “No…no, I don’t. Jackson’s everything I ever wanted. He’s rich, powerful, cute, and I wouldn’t have to work if I was with him.”

             
Was she serious?
I patted her back, and she straightened up, wiping her eyes.

              She faced me. “Okay, I forgive you, but you’re going to have to do something for me,” she said.

              “What?”

“Come to Tijuana with me for spring break.”

              “Spring break? When’s that?”

              “In a few weeks. Please say you’ll go and just you, because I don’t think I could stand it if Kristin came along.”

“Fine. Yeah, sure. I’ll ask Stuart." I paused. ”Wait. I thought spring break was in March?”

              “Not at Briarwood. Ours is in April. This is going to be so much fun.” Giggling, she started the car.

              I’d never done anything remotely fun for spring break in the past, so this could be interesting. That is, if I was allowed to go. 

              Once we arrived at my house, Carli practically pulled me into Stuart’s office, demanding that I go to Tijuana with her.

“Tijuana. With you?” he asked, looking at me and then back to Carli.

“Not just me, but with my dad, too. He’s going to chaperone.”

Stuart wasn’t convinced. Neither was I. He shook his head. “No, I’m not sure…”

“Addison, may I speak to your dad alone? I’ll be just a minute.” She motioned for me to leave. I eyed her suspiciously and shrugged.  Knowing Carli, she was probably going to do something demeaning like flash him or something.

I found Zach playing some kind of fighting game with one of his friends, a guy with short blond hair. I didn’t want to interrupt them, but just as I was getting ready to leave, I saw them kiss. They jumped apart when they spotted me.

“Hi…uh…I’m going to the study.” I bolted to the study and hid behind closed doors.
Shoot, I did not see that coming
. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times and then seized a book from the shelf and sat down to read. I had to chill out. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to get caught.
Why wasn’t he more careful? What if Stuart found out? He would flip out.

A soft knock on the door startled me, and I put the book down. “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound normal.

Zach and his friend came in, both of them red-faced and worried. Zach shuffled his feet and kept his eyes focused on the floor. “I want you to swear you won’t tell anyone.”

“Your business is just that. Your business. I’m not telling.”

“See, I told you,” he said to his friend.

“Pinky swear,” the blonde-headed boy said and walked up to me with his little finger out.

“I won’t tell. I promise.” We shook on it. Then he left.

A few minutes later, Carli breezed in. “What’s going on?” She glanced at Zach and his friend, who were hurrying toward the front door.

I laughed. “Kid stuff. So, what did he say?”

She could barely contain her grin. “You’re in.” Then she hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
I guess I was going to Tijuana.

***

The day before we left, I had my cast removed and was able to play video games again with Zach. He apologized for the way he had acted when I caught him. I told him it wasn’t that big of a deal and that he could come to me with whatever he wanted. Lexus barged in the door.

“Get out, brat,” she ordered

“Chill out, gagzilla.” He stuffed his fingers in his mouth like he wanted to throw up, but left, closing the door behind him.

I took a seat at my desk. “What’s up?”

“I need your help.” She collapsed on the couch and hid her face in her hands. I moved to sit next to her, but she shied away. There were dark reddish stains on her shirt, and I grabbed one of her wrists and lifted the sleeve revealing horizontal thin cuts, only a few layers deep. “What are you doing?”

“This is all your fault, you know.” She tucked her legs close to her body and wrapped her arms around them.

“Lexus, spill it. What’s going on?”

She peeked at me and then back down at her hands. “I’m pregnant.”

I sat back, dumbfounded. She was right. This was going to be blamed on me in some way shape or form.
Shoot, why couldn’t she just say no?
“I didn’t even know you were or had--”

“Yeah, well I did. You made it seem easy.”

“Easy?”

“Yeah, you and Jackson.”

“Whoa, we’re on a completely different playing field, not to mention we use protection.” Okay I lied, but I had been on the pill since I was twelve. So, at least I was protected.

“Well I didn’t, so now I’m pregnant, and it’s too late to get an abortion.”

“Wait, who’s the dad? I mean, that party was less than two months ago.”