White Lies (12 page)

Jack let out a booming laugh.

“This isn't funny,” she said sternly.

“Why didn't you just explain to everyone the truth? That this nutcase had scared the crap out of you, so you made it all up.”

“I'm the new teacher. Slandering a colleague on my first day wasn't the first impression I wanted to make.”

“Fair enough. So why didn't you say you didn't want to have a party?”

“You weren't there. It wasn't as simple as that. I was put on the spot.”

“Am I invited?” he deadpanned.

“Very funny, Jack.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Well, it sort of worked itself out. I spoke to my sister yesterday. She's decided to come up this weekend for a visit. It's given me the perfect excuse to cancel. I told Zach to tell everyone the party's off.”

“Can you trust this joker? Sounds like a sneaky bastard, if you ask me.”

“If he screws this up,” she said, “I'll kill him.”

They finished their desserts—Katrina had another two sips of beer, but that was all—then they got the check. Jack pulled out his wallet, but she insisted she pay. He argued for a bit until she said he could pay for the next dinner.

Being rusty at the dating game, she thought she'd played that hand rather well.

Outside, the air was brisk but pleasant. The sodium-vapor street-lamps cast romantic pools of golden light on the sidewalk, while other lights lit up the profusion of colorful flowers that were everywhere. A four-horse team came trotting up the street, pulling an old-fashioned wagon. The two drivers, dressed in traditional German clothing, waved at Jack and Katrina, who waved back. Katrina was grinning from ear to ear. “I think I'm going to like this town very much,” she said.

“It's one of a kind. No question there.”

She pointed east. “My car's that way.”

Jack nodded in the other direction. “My hotel's
that
way.”

His words zapped her like a shot of adrenaline. “Jack—”

“I know, I know. We just met,” he said. “But there's something between us.”

“I thought you were above clichés,” she said lightly.

“I'm just telling you how it is.”

“And how many women have you told that to before?”

Jack looked taken aback. She instantly regretted the words. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

“It's all right. There's no pressure. How about I see you later this week?”

She hesitated.
Don't push him away. Don't do that. He's exactly what you need. Haven't you spent enough nights alone? It's time to let go of the past. Live in the present
.

“How far is it?” she asked.

Jack took her hand and led her down Front Street, past Café Mozart. They turned left on 8th Street and arrived at a quaint stucco-and-timber building called the Blackbird Lodge. He led her through the cozy lobby to his room on the ground floor. He fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. She stepped inside first. The lights were off, but silvery moonlight shone through the windows. She felt Jack's hands on her shoulders. Their touch was electric. They slid down her arms, slipped around her waist. He kissed her below the ear, his breath hot and sweet. Katrina had always thought she would feel awkward, guilty even, the first time she found herself in the position she was in now, a kind of betrayal of Shawn's memory. She didn't. All she felt was a powerful, burning longing, which instantly consumed her, stripping bare her thoughts, leaving only a naked, base desire. She turned around in Jack's arms and kissed him forcefully on the lips. They stumbled backward, into the door, slamming it closed. Then they were moving around the room with considerably less grace than they had on the dance floor earlier, a ball in a pinball machine, bumping furniture, tearing off each other's clothes in the process. By the time they dropped onto the bed, Katrina was feeling more alive than she had any time in recent memory.

They didn't get much sleep that night.

Around the same time Katrina was having dinner with Jack, Zach was in his basement, having a drink with a different Jack entirely. It was dusk out, the sky an otherworldly crimson. The fading light
coming through the windows sketched the room in shades of reds and grays. Zach did not get up to turn on the overhead lights but remained on the sofa on which he had been sitting for the past hour. He raised the bottle of bourbon to his lips and took another swig. He was doing some soul searching which, for him at least, always went better with a cold beer or a bottle of booze. Specifically, he was debating about how to proceed with what he had begun to think of as the Katrina Vendetta. Should he continue harassing her about the cabin? Or should he drop the entire matter completely? He knew he should drop it. He'd already regained some of the face he'd lost out on Highway 2 by letting her know that he knew she was a liar. Now instead of him being in the wrong alone, they were both in the wrong, which sort of made the whole situation better. So what more was there to gain by continuing the harassment? Seeing her made the fool not only in his eyes but everybody they worked with? Sure, that would be satisfying. But was it really worth doing? Because she was becoming an obsession with him, and when something became an obsession, it could only lead to trouble. Last night was a perfect example. He still cringed every time he thought about what he'd done. But ironically, that was also precisely why he couldn't drop his beef with her. An obsession, by definition, was something occupying your mind which you couldn't brush aside.

So what to do?

Sometime later, Zach thought he had it figured out.

Katrina was furious.

She could scarcely believe her eyes as she stared at the list of names on the pink piece of paper clutched in her hands. All in all it appeared as though twenty teachers had signed up—
signed up
—to attend the party at her cabin tomorrow night. There was even a little column for what they would bring. Some of the items listed included a fruit bowl, nachos, cake, pumpernickel bread, potato chips, and dip. A woman named Stacy Walters who Katrina didn't think she'd met yet wrote down in green ink a karaoke machine. She even drew a little happy face beside it, as if she thought Katrina would be thrilled.
Sure, Stacy. A karaoke machine. Why not? Why not bring along a busload of Japanese tourists as well? Sake anyone
?

Katrina's tunnel vision faded. She became aware of the rest of the office once again. The secretary, a blonde woman wearing very large hoop earrings, was regarding her with concern. She probably saw the bubble above Katrina's head filled with question marks and exclamation points and four-letter words. Katrina stepped into the hallway and checked the list one more time, specifically for Zach's name. As she'd expected, it was conveniently absent. Well, he was going to answer for his omission, as well as for his commissions. Right now.

She marched to his classroom, where he seemed to hide out during the day, never joining the others in the faculty lounge. Her heels rang purposefully on the tiles, like a war drum. Her anger— no, her incredulity he would try something like this—rose with each step so by the time she'd reached his room she not so much walked but blew in through the door.

Zach looked up from a stack of papers he was correcting, managing a surprised expression. She was sure he was anything but surprised.

“What did I tell you yesterday morning, Zach?” she demanded, stopping in front of his desk.

“What are you talking about, Katrina?” he said, setting the papers aside.

“Yesterday morning, Zach! I asked you to tell the other teachers the damn party was off.”

“I did. I told them.”

That admission surprised her. She hadn't expected him to be so bold, considering it would only take one phone call to another teacher to call the bluff. “You told everybody the party was off?” she said skeptically.

“Not yesterday. I got tied up with a few things. I did it this morning. Not everyone. But some. I figured word would spread.”

She brandished the pink sheet the way a lawyer might brandish an important piece of evidence in court. “What about this— this sign-up sheet? I suppose you're going to tell me you've never seen it before?”

“No, I haven't. I don't even know what you're talking about. A signup sheet?”

Her confidence wavered a fraction. “Why did everyone else sign it, except you?”

“First, I'm still not sure what you're talking about. Second, I don't leave this classroom much. Don't use the faculty lounge.” He shrugged. “I guess whatever that is never got around to me.”

Katrina stared at him, weighing his words. He was good. Convincing. And she found herself wondering whether she had jumped the gun here. Was she biased against him because he had spooked her badly on the highway? True, he'd brought up the idea of the party in front of everyone at Ducks & Drakes. And, true, he went around telling everyone the party was on the next day. But she told him to cool it, to shut things down, and he said he had. To keep pushing this forward, out of pure malice, would be deranged. Was he deranged? That was still up for debate. Nevertheless,
to be fair, to be unbiased, it was perfectly conceivable another enthusiastic teacher got carried away and created the sign-up list.

She clenched her jaw, the fight draining from her. She looked around the classroom, as if searching for a soft sofa to sink into and disappear.

“Listen, Katrina,” Zach said levelly, “stop worrying about this thing. Just have the party. Bring your sister. Trust me, it'll turn out to be a lot of fun. No one cares whether you have furniture or not.”

“It's more complicated than having furniture or not.”

“What is?”

She hesitated. It would be so easy to come clean right now.

“Katrina?”

“Nothing.”

“You can tell me.” He was leaning forward, eager. A hard glint in his eyes had replaced the previous guilelessness, and she suddenly had the feeling he had been putting on a big show.

But she couldn't prove anything.

“I said it's nothing,” she said tersely, then left.

Before leaving the school, however, Katrina stopped by the office to request a list of faculty phone numbers from the secretary. She knew there was only one option remaining to get out of hosting the party tomorrow night. She would have to do what she should have originally done instead of passing off the responsibility to Zach. Call up everyone individually and tell them the party was off, that her sister was coming up to visit tomorrow, and that the two of them would be busy all weekend. Still, even though that excuse had seemed fine and dandy yesterday, it no longer felt as justifiable, simply because the plans had since been set in writing, and it was now the eleventh hour.

Screw it
, she thought with finality.
Screw what everyone thinks of me. They should have listened to me on Tuesday when I said I didn't want to host the damn thing. Let them bitch and complain if they want. I've had enough
.

That white lie she'd birthed exactly one week ago, that parasite that had been feeding off her insecurities, her narcissistic need to be liked and fit in, that goddamn lie which had become the foundation
of the precarious house of cards she'd been living inside since she'd arrived in Leavenworth—that was going to die tonight.

As Katrina pulled into Blackbird Lodge on 8th Street, a flood of memories overwhelmed her, temporarily lifting her dour mood. Last night had been, well, magical. Not just the sex, though that had been very good. Everything, the whole package. She'd forgotten what it was like to fall asleep next to a man in bed, to wake up next to him, to
be
with him. There was no other experience like it, and it had taken abstaining from it for so long to realize how important it was. On the outside she still looked like the Katrina of yesterday. On the inside she felt like a butterfly that had just emerged from its chrysalis and had the entire world to explore with fresh, beautiful eyes.

She passed through the hotel lobby and knocked on the door to Jack's room. He appeared in the doorway dressed simply in black track pants. His bare chest glistened with sweat. She'd never seen the tattoos on his chest before, not last night because it was too dark, and not this morning because he'd been up and dressed and making coffee before she'd opened her eyes. There were a lot of abstract tribal designs done in the same green ink as on his arms. Two large colorful tattoos stood out above the rest: a wolf's head encircled by a dream catcher, and a bald eagle draped in the American flag. Native American meets patriot. Fitting. The tattoos added to his sex appeal, and she felt a tingling spread down her inner thighs.
God! I'm like a cat in heat around him
, she thought, pulling herself quickly together. She cleared her throat. “Sorry if I'm interrupting something,” she said. “I should have called. I can come back.”

“Nonsense!” he said with his usual gusto. “I was just finishing my workout. Come on in.” He directed her to a chair, then pulled on a T-shirt. She wished he hadn't. The room was just as she remembered it, small but cozy and radiating tranquility. “So, you couldn't wait until six to see me, is that it?” he said, grinning.

“I wish it was that simple. I've had a pretty bad day. I just needed some advice, I guess.”

“Fire away.”

“I don't know where to start, exactly.” She decided to pick up where they'd left off at King Ludwig's. “Remember what I told you about that teacher I work with? The party I'm supposed to be hosting tomorrow night? Well, apparently it's still on.”

“That Zach guy didn't cancel it like you told him to?”

“Says he did. Maybe. I don't know. All I know is there was this flashy pink sign-up sheet in my teacher's box today after school with about twenty names on it.”