I hold a hand up a moment trying to process all this. “You’re saying I did those things to you?”
“Youknowyou did. Right along with an entire list of other juvenile shit.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out something long and plastic, and it takes a moment for it to register as a pregnancy test. “It’s positive. Are you kidding me? I always used a rubber. So whose is it?”
He tries to give me the stick, but I back away as if it were poison.
“That’s not mine.” I shake my head. “I didn’t do it, I swear.” It hurts to tell the truth after such a long string of lies. The truth feels barbed and twisted, sharp as a razor as it claws its way out of my throat. I’m the girl who cried wolf—only the wolf is me, and I’ve been eating myself alive with the guilt for years. “I have to go.”
He snatches my wrist again and twirls me into him as if we were dancing a psychotic waltz.
“You are fucking insane, Kennedy. You can’t deny all this shit and continue to get away with it. I did that little polygraph your attorney requested. As soon as he gets the results, my good name will be exonerated. And what about you, Ken? What are you going to do to clear your good name?” He pumps a dry smile—his face red with rage and vodka. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have a good name to uphold. Everyone close to you knows you’re a fucking liar. And when the truth comes out, everyone else will, too.”
I shake my head as I stumble backward. “No.” I turn and run toward the tents as the party rages on. Reese and Ace dance in the center on a raised wood floor as the crowd slowly fills in around them. The lights dim to a moody blue, and not one cell in my body desires to be here. My heart beats erratic over my chest, the seam of my dress bouncing with the rhythm.
Keith has taken a polygraph. This is unexpected, uncalled for perhaps, mostly it feels like a betrayal—although I’m not sure why. Keith is smart, book smart, not cock smart. He can’t understand the simple premise behind a committed relationship. I was his, and he was mine. Our hearts weren’t sold on the fine print though. I think that’s where everything went wrong. We signed the proverbial paperwork without committing to the very first rule of monogamy: fall in fucking love. Keith and I hardly had lust at times, and yet he still managed to shred me to pieces. But if he didn’t break my heart, what did he rip apart so ruthlessly? My ego? I suppose I’ve always known I had one.
Mel and Charlie head in this direction with a few of the other girls, and I struggle to leave but am suddenly landlocked by the crowd. Lucky for me, Mel and Charlie break off from the group and show up alone.
“What the hell?” Charlie pulls me in for a quick hug. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
Mel makes a face. “The Kennedy Slade we know isn’t a cry baby. She kicks ass and takes names, right?” She offers up a punch to my arm that hurts more than I care to admit.
“I just had a nasty run in with Keith.” I shake my head. “Unbelievable.” I’m just about to break it down for them, the whys and the whats when Charlie lets out a melodic groan at something in the distance.
“That six pack you hired as your attorney is so freaking hot.” She’s shouting, obviously wasted. “Tell me you’re fucking him because, if not, all bets are off. I’ve never seen eyes that blue, dimples that deep, and that hair? Are you kidding me? My feet are dying to run through it.”
“Keep your panties on,” I warn.
“Oh, honey, those melted off five minutes ago. I can’t take my eyes off him. You better wrap him around your pinky extra tight, just saying. Keith was okay, but this guy is in another league.”
Mel wrinkles her nose as she takes him in from over my shoulder. “You’re really into this guy, aren’t you?” She bites her lip a moment continuing on with her ogling analysis. “What’s his name again?”
“Caleb,” Charlie says it dreamy while on her tiptoes, craning her neck, creating a spectacle of herself over a man I will never let her near. She’s too far gone on lust and Cosmopolitans. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit to see her with her clothes off, chasing him around the lake like some orangutan in heat. That’s my job. I’m the orangutan in heat around here.
“He is a looker,” Melanie adds. “Everyone is going to want him, now that you have him. You’re theitgirl, Ken, you always have been. What you wear becomes that season’s classic. Who you’re seen with magically becomes the popular crowd. From the car you drive right down to your nail polish, everyone at Yeats wants in on the action. But I guess you’re used to it—everyone wanting to be you. Always getting your way. You really live the dream life.” She sighs with her gaze still set over my shoulder. “Heck, I want to be you, too.”
I glance down at her, annoyed. At the moment I very much don’t want to be me. Hell, no one knows the real me. If they did, they’d all run for cover. My lies, my secrets, they’ve woven themselves into a nest of screaming rats, entwined and entrapped with their own tails in one grotesque knot. A rat king—we studied that monstrosity once in science, eighth grade, the year my life turned into a thousand rats entangled, ensnared with their long rope-like tails until they became one large, screaming, moving knot that eventually died a horrible death locked in its own menace.
“You ready to hit the dance floor?” A warm voice, reminiscent of sipping spiced cider in front of the fireplace, strums from behind. With Caleb I can envision every romantic scenario far into the unknowable future. With Keith I could only foresee a dinner date that would end in a fight, perhaps a lakeside drive in his overpriced sports car.
I spin into Caleb with hisnicesuit, his devil-wears-blue-suede-eyes-tonight and crash my lips to his—softly at first for the briefest of moments before my tongue swims greedily in his mouth, and I force myself to pull away.
“I’m ready to hit it.” I glance down the length of his body as I pant those words.
His cheek glides up one side. Caleb’s eyes hood low for a moment, very much alerting me to the fact he’s ready to hit it, too.
“Everything okay?” His hands slip coolly into his pockets as if insisting on upholding an air of arrogance. As much as I hate the fact he didn’t overreact to that kiss, hell, react at all, a part of me is strangely aroused by this indifferent development. “Did you see anyone slip something into your drink?”
Ah, there he is. The sarcastic beast awakens.
He’s being facetious, but I can tell he’s bewildered by my spontaneous turnaround. I can’t help it. I need a very stiff drink to get me through this God awful night, and seeing that I don’t really care to get wasted, I’ll simply have to settle for something very stiff—and I do believe Caleb McCarthy is packing in that arena.
“Everything is great, counselor.” I pull him in by the neck, my fingers knotting up in his hair. “I think maybe it’s time we reconvene in your chambers. I’d like to present you with a body of evidence. You know, convince you to remain on my side.”
“Mmm.” He studies me a moment. “Why wouldn’t I be on your side?”
“Rumor has it you’re running with the enemy. Who is it you don’t believe? Him? Or me?” Here is his chance to fess up.
His eyes close a moment. “Back to that body of evidence.” His dimples cut in without the effort of a smile. “You sure about that?”
