Wherever Nina Lies (14 page)

“Don’t offer her cereal,” says Kitten Pajamas. “She lied to big Jimmy. She’s a Nina impersonator! She could be a crazed fan here to kill us!”

“We’re not famous enough yet for that, Ian,” says Milk Mustache.

“Like hell we’re not! So, I would like to restate my previous question, who the feck are you?”

“I’m Ellie Wrigley,” I say. “Nina is my sister.”

Ian narrows his eyes. I hold out her passport.

Kitten Pajamas takes it, holds it up to his face. He looks at the picture, then at me, then at the picture, almost like he
doesn’t believe it. “This is really her.” And then nods some more. “Peter, you want to see this.” He holds the passport out to the guy on the couch. Peter’s the one who had his arm around Nina in the picture.

“Well, would you have a look at that,” Peter says. He puts his bowl of cereal down on the floor and holds the passport with two hands. “Jaysus.” He shakes his head. His mouth drops open a little bit. He was in love with her. I can tell just from looking at his face.

“You alright?” Milk Mustache says. He wipes the mustache off his face.

“How’s she doing?” Peter looks up at me.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I haven’t seen her in two years, which is why I’m here.”

Peter just shakes his head.

“So you guys did know her then,” I say. “And you knew her pretty well?”

“Not as well as he would have liked,” says Ian.

“I knew her,” Peter says. “Or at least I thought I did.” He looks up at me. There’s tension around his eyes, like he’s in pain but trying not to show it. “So she’s your own sister and you don’t know where she is then?”

“She disappeared two years ago,” I tell them.

“We kind of figured something was up with that girl,” Ian says. “Why’d she go?”

“Don’t know,” I say. “I’m looking for her now. And I saw a photograph of you all standing with her at Bijoux
Ink, or, well, I stole it actually. And then I saw a drawing she did that someone told me is going to be on your new album.”

“And whoever told you that?” Ian asks. But he looks amused, not annoyed.

“A really big fan of yours,” I say. “Well, two actually.”

And Ian just shakes his head smiling. “Ah, the mad redheads, I presume?”

I nod.

“Well, that’s not a surprise, I don’t suppose, although I have a hard time imagining you associating with the likes of them. Then again, now what’s this you said about stealing from Bijoux?”

“Um.” I look down at the floor. Perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned this part, but it’s too late now. “The woman who worked there said she didn’t even know Nina, but I could tell that she did and then I got into the back room and when I saw the picture of you guys with my sister…I just took it and hid it under my shirt and snuck out.”

Ian looks at me, and then at his bandmates, and they all burst out laughing. “Good on ya then,” Ian says. “God love her but Eden deserves something like that, now and again. Ah, Bijoux,” Ian smiles. “Favorite tattoo place in our old hometown, well, our second hometown after Galway, Ireland. Bijoux is the site of my greatest shame.” He stands up. “I bet Peter and Marc here I could toss eight balled-up napkins in the trash without missing one. I was sure I could do it!” He
pulls his kitten pajamas down slightly; there on his stomach is a picture of the two other guys’ faces, inked in black. “Turns out I couldn’t.”

“Now whenever a young lady so happens to be spending time down there,” Milk Mustache, aka Marc, grins, “she’s staring me and Peter in the face!”

“So far I haven’t had any complaints,” Ian says.

“Well why would you?” Marc lifts his cereal bowl to his lips and drains the last of the milk. “We’re gorgeous!”

Ian adjusts his pajama pants. “If I won, they were going to have to get my face on their arses.”

“You should consider yourself lucky to have that,” Peter says, and then looks at me. “Your sister was a genius. A true artist.”

“Nina was only in Denver for a couple of weeks,” Marc says. “But poor Peter fell in love with your sister straight away. Wrote a song about her and everything, but never had the balls to tell the girl.”

“He’s shy,” says Ian.

“We were younger then and he didn’t yet realize that being a big famous rock star means you can have any girl you want,” Marc says.

“That’s enough, boys,” Peter says, shaking his head. “She just wasn’t interested, alright?” He looks down at his lap. It’s sort of insane to think that this is the same guy who was doing handstands on stage only a few minutes ago.

“I think she had a boyfriend,” I say. “I thought maybe she left with him.”

“Well, not when we knew her she didn’t.” Ian says. “Or if she did, he certainly wasn’t with her when she left with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“She hitched a ride with us out of Denver. Poor Peter was so excited when she asked if she could come.” Ian sits down cross-legged on the floor, staring at the kittens dancing on his knees. “She was only with us for a few days, though. She left us when we got to Big Sur.”

“Why there?” I ask.

“Dunno,” Ian shakes his head. “She had us drive her up to this big house. She said she had to say good-bye to someone there, but we never found out who or why. And then that was it. My last memory of her was her standing in front of this giant house holding her little overnight bag and this giant snowboard, waving.”

“Why did she have a snowboard?” Something clicks in my head suddenly. The other charge on her credit card bill, Edgebridge Sports. I’d almost forgotten.

“To go snowboarding, I assumed.” Ian shrugs. “She was a mystery, your sister. And not too fond of questions. We asked her to get in touch but she never did. She left that drawing behind though, the one on our new album cover.”

Peter leans over, reaches into a brown box, and pulls out
a record and hands it to me. “Our label thought it would be cool to release a proper vinyl record. And this is it,” he says. “This is an advance copy they’re mostly just sending out to radio stations.” On the cover is Nina’s drawing, the one Jamie-girl showed me yesterday. “She never even got to see the album,” Peter says. “Never even knew that we put her drawing on there, actually. Will you take this and give it to her when you find her?”

“Of course,” I say. And hearing him phrase it like that,
when
, not
if
,
when
, makes me smile. “Is there anything else you can tell me about your time with her? Anything she might have said about what she was doing or where she was going or…anything?”

“Well, like I said, we dropped her off at a big house in Big Sur,” Ian says. “I bet you Peter remembers. He made us go back a couple months later on the way back to Denver.”

“It was on our way,” Peter says. “Sort of…” Peter picks a green notebook up off the floor and pulls a pen out of the spine. He tears out a little sheet of paper and scribbles on it. “There,” he says, handing it to me. “That’s the address. Don’t know how much good that’ll do you, though. When we went back the place was all deserted-like except for this lonely looking groundskeeper fella who was wandering around trimming the hedges. Said no one had been there in months.”

“It’s worth a try at least,” I say.

“Do you want a bowl of cereal?” Marc has stood up and is pouring himself another bowl. “I’ll rinse a spoon for you and everything!”

“I should go back out there.” I motion toward the door. “But thank you.”

“She was a lovely girl, your sister was,” Peter says. “When you see her, would you give her this, too, for me?” Peter scribbles something else on a piece of paper and hands it to me, looking ever so slightly embarrassed. I look down. It’s his phone number.

“I will,” I say.

“And if you’re ever in a pinch,” Ian calls out after me, “you could always sell that album on eBay!”

B
ack out in Spit Pavilion, the music is softer and no one is dancing. There’s a girl onstage in a baby blue dress with a flower pot balanced on her head, singing along with her acoustic guitar. And I am wandering through the quickly thinning crowd looking for Sean. I let the questions swirl through my head as I walk. So if Nina was single, then who exactly is J? And what happened with him? Did they run away together, and then break up? And why didn’t she just come back then? Or did they break up and then get back together? Is she living with this guy somewhere?

And while we’re at it with the questions,
Where’s Sean?

I look back at the stage where a couple is pressed against the wall, limbs entwined. The guy has short dark hair and a dark T-shirt, jeans. Just like Sean. The girl’s hair is blonde. My stomach burns with hot liquid jealousy. The guy turns his head to the side, as though he can feel me staring at him. Not Sean. I feel a flood of relief.

“Ellie?” I hear someone calling my name, loudly, over
the music. “Oh my God, Ellie!” It’s not Sean’s voice. It’s higher. A girl’s. “
There
you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” I turn around.

Amanda?

She wraps me in an expensive-hair-product-scented hug. My arms hang limply at my sides. She leans back, lets out a little squeal, and then hugs me again. “I got here a little late and I was worried maybe you’d
left!
”

I just stand there, staring at her face. The sound of her words and the motion of her mouth seem slightly out of sync, like she’s been badly dubbed.

“Ellie?” Amanda says. She leans back again and looks at me. “Hello?”

I’m just not sure what to say. I’m too confused to say anything.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” She grins. But I can’t answer because I honestly don’t know.

“I went to visit you at work yesterday and Braddy said that you were going to see this band in Arizona, and I thought, wouldn’t it be so fun if I just surprised you? I mean, it’s summer, we both know it’s not like I do that much at Attic, anyway. So I decided what the hell! I have money to burn, so why not just get a plane ticket!” She throws her arms up over her head. “So, SURPRISE!!!!”

She lowers her arms and then claps her hands together. It’s like she’s trying to rewrite a story that we were both part
of and thinks somehow I won’t notice that she changed it. Does she not remember the weirdness of the last few days? Her calling me over and over? Me not picking up?

But before I have a chance to decide whether I want to express any of this, I feel a warm hand on my arm.

I turn. Sean.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is soft and low, the way he says “hey” makes it sound like it’s a secret he’s been saving just for me. The Sean from last night is back.

“Is this him, Ellie?” Amanda puts one hand on her hip. I can tell she’s trying to sound perky, but her voice has an edge.

Sean looks at me. Our eyes meet. I feel that jolt of connection. “Who’s your friend?” he asks.

I take a deep breath.

“Sean, this is Amanda.” I look at him. Surprise flashes across his face and his jaw tenses.

“Amanda, this is Sean.” I look at her. She’s looking at him. I try and imagine what she sees, dark hair that’s flopping in his face, black T-shirt, big intense eyes. Does he look the same to her as he does to me? His eyes, warm and full of a deep understanding, his lips, serious and playful at the same time. Kissable. An image pops into my head, his lips approaching mine, his hot breath on my mouth, his tongue about to slide in.

He’s watching me. I blush.

“Hey, Sean,” Amanda says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, Amanda,” he says. But he’s still staring at me.

And then we all just stand there. I want to tell him about everything that happened backstage, but I can’t do that in front of Amanda. Not anymore.

Amanda glances down on the floor, in front of her is her big cherry-print LeSportsac. She’s wearing a pair of high-heeled strappy leather sandals. Her toenails are painted bright pink. It’s as though she dressed up special for this occasion, but she doesn’t fit in here.

“Amanda came to surprise me,” I say to Sean. “Brad told her I was here seeing a band.”

Sean doesn’t say anything. Just stands there looking uncomfortable.

“So where are you guys staying?” Amanda says.

Sean reaches out and puts his hand on my lower back. “We don’t know yet.” I can feel the heat of his hand soaking through my shirt. “We were going to find a place after this.”

Amanda glances down at Sean’s arm. A look of deep discomfort f lashes across her face, as though she is suddenly realizing what she’s gotten herself into. For a second I feel sorry for her.

“This’ll be fun,” Amanda says, but it sounds so forced, not one of us believes her.

I
n a parallel universe, Ellie2 is having the best night of her life. She’s in a hotel room in the middle of downtown Phoenix, with her best friend and the guy she likes. They’re laughing. They’re making jokes. She leaves the room to go to the bathroom and overhears them talking about how great she is. How much they love her. They want to plan a surprise party for her! She gets back. They order room service! They jump on the bed! They take hilarious pictures of the three of them with a digital camera and post them on the new web-site they’ve created, devoted to just how much fun they’re having!

But in the regular universe, the one I unfortunately happen to inhabit, things are going rather differently. I am in a room at the Golden Oasis Suites in Phoenix with my best friend and the guy I like, but instead of laughter and proclamations of
how much fun we’re having!
the room is filled with so much awkward energy I think I’m going to puke. If one could, y’know, puke from a thing like that.

We checked in fifteen minutes ago, and right now Amanda is standing by the door of our enormous, gorgeous room, with her hand on her hip and a towel over her shoulder saying, “Come on, Ellie. Let’s just go!” Sean is sitting on one of the queen beds, looking uncomfortable. And I am standing in between the two of them, with no idea what to do. Amanda lives for pools, no matter where we are, if there’s a pool there, she wants to go in it. Ordinarily she can be a little bit prissy—about what bed she’ll sleep in and what shower she’ll use, but she’d swim in a dirty bathtub filled with soup if someone put a sign that said
Pool
in front of it. And there just so happens to be one here at the hotel, on the roof, and it’s open all night.

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say. Sean has flipped the TV on and is now lying back on the bed watching an Animal Planet show about elephants.

“I brought an extra one,” she says. “The navy blue boy shorts one that you wore at my house that first night it got warm back in May. Remember, Eric’s friend Dylan kept staring at your ass all night?”

I glance at Sean who seems really engrossed watching two little elephants spray each other with water. Sean smiles at them and absentmindedly scratches his stomach through his shirt. The blood rushes to my face. I remember how it felt last night when I was leaning on him, our stomachs pressed together, my cheek on his chest, his hand in my hair. Was
that really just last night? Amanda crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I ask Sean.

“Nah, I’m tired.” Sean shakes his head. “I think I’m gonna hang out here with my buddies.” He motions to the screen where the two elephants are now nuzzling.

“Let’s just go, Ellie,” Amanda says. She sticks her hand out, the navy blue straps dangling from her fist. “Go into the bathroom and change.”

And even though I don’t want to, I’m not sure what else to do at this point. So I do what I’m told.

I change in the bathroom and then Amanda and I head out into the beige and cream colored hallway, thick hotel towels slung over our shoulders.

The second the door clicks shut behind us the smile leaves her face. “What the hell is going on?”

I stop, adjust one of my straps. “With what?”

“Um, I don’t know, how about you randomly disappearing on some road trip without even telling anyone first? And then avoiding my calls? And then playing boyfriend/girl-friend with el freako back there? I mean, I know things were a little weird the last couple times we talked to each other, but just because we get into a fight doesn’t mean you have to run off with some creepy loser.”

“Stop it,” I say, “you don’t even know him.” We walk toward the elevator. I push the
Up
button. About a second later the gold-and-glass elevator arrives and we get in.

“Neither do you,” she says. She reaches out and pushes
R
. The elevator begins to rise. A few seconds later the doors open and we step out into a lush desert oasis—there are dozens of multicolored cactuses in terra-cotta planters, a half-dozen wood patio tables shaded by dark green umbrellas, and four cream colored canvas cabanas draped in hundreds of twinkling white lights, all surrounding a crystal blue swimming pool that’s lit from underneath.

I turn to my right where Amanda was standing, but all that’s left of her is a pair of flip-flops and a towel in a pile on the ground.

I hear a splash and watch concentric circles spread themselves out over the surface of the pool. A moment later Amanda’s wet head appears in the center of it. Even though it’s after midnight, it’s still at least ninety-five degrees out. I dip my toe in, the water is pleasantly cool. I close my eyes and jump.

I can see the golden glow of the pool lights through my eyelids as I sink all the way down to the bottom. It’s so quiet down here, so peaceful. I stay until I feel my lungs burning, then I push my legs against the floor of the pool and rise back up to the top. When I finally open my eyes again, Amanda’s right there in front of me.

“Look, all I want to know is this.” Her face is lit from underneath, all lines and sharp angles. “Since when do you go off on vacations with random guys you’ve just met?”

“We’re not on vacation,” I say simply. And as soon as
the words leave my lips I regret them. I know what’s coming next.

“So then what are you doing here?”

I pause and take a deep breath.

“We’re looking for Nina,” I say.

Amanda stares at me. The water suddenly feels cold. I hear sounds, people moving around near the edge of the pool, but the lights in the pool make it hard to see outside of it. I swim over to the ladder, turn around, and lean against it. Amanda doesn’t follow.

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she says. She sounds so disappointed, like I’ve just told her I’m planning to become a junkie or start a homemade porn site.

“I didn’t ask you to say anything.” My voice sounds sharp, and I’m glad.

“I’m worried about you,” she says. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore. I mean I came all the way out here to make sure you’re okay…”

“And what
exactly
are you worried about?” I say. “That I’m actually going to find Nina? That someone else is helping me who isn’t you?” Even
I
am shocked to hear myself say this. But the words are out now. And I can’t take them back.

“No, Ellie, what I’m worried about is that you’ve lost touch with reality and you somehow think driving hundreds and hundreds of miles with a freak you don’t even know is a perfectly normal thing to do.”

“Who cares if it’s normal?!”

Amanda swims over to my side of the pool.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to be here with that Sean guy? I mean, what do you even know about him? What is he even doing here?”

“He wants to help me,” I say. “And at this point he is the only person in my life who is willing to.”

“Are you sure about that?” says Amanda.

“About what?”

“Are you sure that his intentions are really so pure? That he just wants to help you?”

“What else would he be here to do?”

“I think all he wants to
help you
with is taking your pants off.”

I just shake my head. I don’t know what to say to this, but I know I don’t want to be in the water anymore. I swim over to the side of the pool, get out, and wrap myself in my towel. I can feel Amanda watching me. I turn around.

“Helen’s nephew said he was a total stalker freak!” Amanda’s arms are crossed over the side of the pool.

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

The wind blows and I feel goose bumps rise on my wet skin. I wrap the towel tighter.

“So what happened
exactly
? You met him at the party and you told him you don’t know where your sister is and he just said, ‘Great, okay, girl who I don’t know, I’m going to
volunteer to drive you across the country with no ulterior motive whatsoever?’ I mean, who does that?”

“Someone who understands,” I say.

“Oh, so he ‘understands’ you? And how is that exactly?”

“Because he’s just like me!” I’m yelling now.

“You’re nothing like him!” She’s yelling, too. “He’s a freak!”

“No,” I say. “He’s not. And he gets what it’s like for me, with Nina, in a way no one else does.”

“And what makes him so special?”

“His brother is dead,” I say. My tone is cold now and I’m speaking softly. “That’s why he’s here and that’s why he’s helping me. Because he understands what it’s like when someone is there one day and the next day they’re not. And how that’s not something you can
get over.
So if you think he’s
weird
or you think there’s something
creepy
about him, it’s only because
you
don’t understand. And lucky for you that you’ve never had to.” And then I stop. I can just barely make out Amanda’s face across the water. I can’t see her expression.

“And you believe him?” she asks. She doesn’t sound ashamed the way I figured she would, or even the slightest bit sorry in fact.

“What?!” I say. I spit the word out, hot bitter acid right at her face.

“How do you even know he’s telling the truth? How do you know this isn’t just some dramatic story he made up to get
close to you and to get you to go on this insane road trip with him? Let me ask you a question, did he tell you about his dead brother before or after you told him about your sister?”

I don’t say anything.

“And what did he say this brother of his died of ?”

“I didn’t ask!” I don’t know why I’m even still answering her.

“Well, I bet he made it all up,” she says. “I bet he never even had a brother.”

“Shut up!” I shout. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP!!” And when I stop, she is silent. I hear the sound of footsteps behind me, someone running toward the elevator. I turn and see Sean’s back. He’s pressing the button on the elevator and then stepping inside. A look flashes across his face, just as the doors are closing, a look of such anguish tears spring to my own eyes in response. “Sean!” I call out. But he’s already gone.

“What the fuck did you do?” I turn toward Amanda.

And she just opens her mouth into the shape of an O. I run toward the elevator. I hear her behind me.

“Ellie, wait!” she calls out. “Ellie, wait!” I just keep going.

There is a stairwell next to the elevator. I push through the door and start running down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I hear Amanda behind me, panting. Down, down, down we go. Around and around. My legs are burning as my wet bare feet slap against the floor. Finally, thirteen
stories later, we are there. We both emerge panting into the hallway. The door to our room is cracked open. We enter.

The room is dim, illuminated by one tiny bedside lamp. Sean is crouched on the floor, leaning over his black leather bag, his back to us.

When he hears us enter, he closes the bag and clicks the lock shut. He stands up slowly. He’s holding something in his hand. He walks over to the desk near the doorway and drops something on top, a square of newspaper, slightly yellowed. Then he stands back.

“I would never lie to Ellie.” He doesn’t sound angry, just very sad and very, very tired. And the three of us just stand there staring at the desk. “Go ahead,” Sean says. “Read it.”

Amanda looks at me, then looks at him, and walks forward. I’m behind her. She picks up the newspaper article and I read the headline over her shoulder.

“Elm Falls Teen Dies of Drug Overdose.”

Early Thursday afternoon, just one day after celebrating his 18
^th
birthday, Jason Cullen was found dead in the home of his mother and stepfather in Elm Falls, Illinois, by his stepbrother Sean, 14.

I hear Amanda’s sharp intake of breath. Tears spring to my eyes. I look at Sean who is standing silently by the bed. Our eyes meet. I raise my hand to my lips and then look back at the article.
Memorial services were held late Friday at Our Lady of Grace, in West Edgebridge. “He was the kindest person I’ve ever known,” said Max Davies, 20. “My family moved
around a lot my entire life, Tennessee, Florida, Pennsylvania, but moving to Chicago was the first time I actually felt at home. And that was because of Jason. He was my first friend and my best friend. The fact that he’s no longer alive isn’t going to change that.” His family could not be reached for comment. Authorities have yet to determine whether the overdose was accidental or suicide.

To the right of the article there’s a picture of Jason, smiling in a graduation hat. Strong jaw, wide mouth. He looks happy. I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before. He has that kind of face.

Sean is standing by the desk, looking down. I go over, lean against him.

“Hey,” I say. He looks up and smiles a small sad smile that says, “well, so now you know.” It hits me like a brick in the chest. What must it have been like for him? I can just imagine—fourteen-year-old Sean walking into his brother’s room to say good morning, to see if his brother wants some breakfast. Jason is lying in his bed, maybe Sean thinks he’s asleep. Maybe he always sleeps late and this is a familiar scene, or maybe he usually gets up early and the fact that he’s not up yet is already odd. He’s lying in bed. Is he dressed? Is he wearing pajamas? His eyes are closed. Maybe Sean says good morning, calls him a dickhead or a snotwad or whatever it is brothers call each other. Sean waits for his brother’s response, but it doesn’t come. Maybe Sean thinks this is a joke at first, or maybe he thinks his brother is just sleeping extra heavily. Calls his name again. He still doesn’t answer.
And again. And again. Exactly how many times does Sean call his brother’s name before he realizes something is wrong? Does he shake him? Does he check his breathing and take his pulse? Does he run out of the room? Does he start screaming? Call 911? Does he still have hope or did he know right away? And how does he live with a memory like that floating in his head, polluting and darkening all the others?

I turn to Amanda, who’s still staring at the clipping. And she just has this look on her face, maybe it’s shame? Maybe it’s horror? I don’t know. I don’t care.