“Yes, totally!” Charleigh says. “I mean,of course, that’s the most important thing. Poor Monica—”
“I can’t imagine.”
Charleigh lifts the pitcher, refills their glasses with the pastel lime-colored slush. “And it gets better!” Charleigh shimmies in her chair. “So, I know I told you about Luke and Nellie and their little date. But what I didn’t get to tell you—because you abandoned me—is that Ethan’s drawing up plans to make a piece for the den! When they came over the other day, I told him I’d have to run it by you first, so he’s drawing up a spec—”
“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk toyouabout.”
“Okay, in just a sec. But anyway, it’ssogreat! I mean, it’s not like we need another piece of goddamn furniture, but this way, Luke can be in the house even more. Around Nellie. I’ll make sure of it. So—”
“I’m not sure you’re gonna want to go through with that once you hear what I have to say.” Jackson stares at Charleigh, whose pewter-blue eyes crinkle in confusion. But it’s now or never.
“What are you talking about?”
He’s just about to tell her when the server appears. “Having anything to eat?”
“Yeah, we always split the chicken fajita nachos. Sound good to you?” Charleigh asks Jackson.
“Yes, extra sour cream, please!”
He takes a fortifying pull off the ’rita, continues. “Well, this isa lot, so…”
“Out with it.”
“Ethan’s the reason I went to Dallas. And I found out some not-so-great things about him.”
Her eyes darken with confusion even more. She stabs her drink over and over with her straw. “I don’t understand.”
“Okay, whew, hear me out.” Jackson’s heart is ticking in his chest like a time bomb. “I hit the gay bars there, like always, but I found out that Ethan Swift is a swindler. And that Ethan is not even his real name. His real name is Charles.” Jackson sighs, then immediately chases that sigh with a deep inhale.
The sky throbs a gorgeous saffron as the sun finally vanishes;Jackson gazes out over the water, wishing he could dive in, swim away from this very fucked-up but necessary conversation.
“Whoa.” Charleigh dots margarita off her lips with her linen napkin. “Told you. Ialwaysknew something was off about that family.”
“Yep, you were right, unfortunately.”
She eyes him over her giant goblet. “But tell me the rest. What do you mean, Ethan was the reason for your trip?”
Jackson inhales forcefully, again, readies himself to spill it all.
82
Jane
The lights from about thirty lit candlesticks flicker against the night sky. All us teens are out at the Circles, holding a vigil for Blair.
Tommy wanted to do this; he rounded up the candles from the Methodist church where all the rich kids go, asked us all to come out here to pray, as a group, for Blair’s full recovery.
I heard that she woke up today for the longest stretch yet. The police came back, but she only had the strength to point to the letterjagain.
I keep waiting for a knock at the door. So Luke and I leaped at the chance to get out of the house tonight, come out here and pray. And drink. And smoke pot.
We are leaving first thing, still; my duffel’s all packed, hidden in his shed.
I’m meeting him at four. He’ll roll the Camaro as far from the house as possible before starting it so we don’t wake anyone.
I can’t wait. Cannot wait to get back on the highway, head across to Arkansas, where we’ll sleep over. I can see us now, cruising down the road, listening to music, smoking, holding hands, dreaming.
I’m giddy just thinking about being in New York. Thinking about exploring the Village with Luke, our fingers laced together,me starting my own band, Luke getting serious with his poetry. And I’m not nervous or scared. My childhood hasn’t been ideal by anybody’s standards, but living a life of crime teaches you street smarts like nothing else. I’d dare someone to try and pickpocketme.
