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Drew jogs over to the guy, says something in a whisper tone, and hands him a card. The guard laughs.
“THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Tara whips around, leaving a stream of water dripping from her hair. She reaches up and touches it. “I just had a blowout this morning! Lindsay!”
She curses and screams as Drew gently leads me away, taking me to the parking lot where I left my car.
Chapter 32
“What was that about?” he asks when we’re far enough away that our eardrums aren’t being pierced by Tara’s screams.
“You saw the whole thing. You tell me.”
“I saw Tara being Tara and a whole new version of Lindsay back there.”
“You mean because I stood up for myself?”
“Is that what you call that?”
“What else was it?”
“Revenge.”
“Same thing.”
His grunt confirms I’m right.
As we walk toward the parking lot, I wonder how he knows where my car is parked. Duh. of course he does. Mom had him here the entire time, so he’d know. I’m sure Drew and Silas and the overnight crew memorized our license plates. If I asked, they probably know my bra size and favorite brand of tampons.
I find my keys and climb in. The car is a tiny little compact, picked with me in mind. I’m terrible in SUVs, and hate to parallel park. The smaller the car, the better. Daddy joked that they almost got me a Smart Car, but settled for this Honda Fit instead. It’s a boring silver color that makes me blend in with the masses.
Perfect.
I pull out of the parking spot, my wet ass soaking the upholstered seats, and realize I’m still wearing Drew’s suit jacket. As I wait at a stop light, I really sink my nose into the cloth. Oh, it smells like him. Lime and cloves and soap and Drew.
My insides tickle and I hear the bones in my neck crackle as my muscles melt. The inviting musk of Drew’s natural body plus cologne is so intoxicating I could get drunk on this alone. It overpowers my own wet dog scent, and I’m grateful.
Beep!
Someone behind me lays on the horn. I look up. Green light. Punching the accelerator a little too hard, I lurch forward but get going, stopping the onslaught of copycat honkers. I know Drew is behind me, driving a big, black SUV meant to be an unmarked car. Right. It’s about as subtle as Tara is kind.
The speed limit on all the in-town roads is only twenty-five, so it takes a bit to get on the main road. Once we hit the long, straight road that will turn into a winding path up the hills to our oceanside compound, I relax even more. The distractions of traffic make it hard for me to drive. Two lanes, one in each direction, and a bunch of desert and ocean are easier to handle.
Bruno Mars comes on the radio and I start singing along. Music therapy was mandatory at the Island, so I spent a lot of time listening to “prescribed” music and assigning it emotional meaning. The whole practice was stupid and devoid of any real authenticity. We all told the counselors what we thought they wanted to hear.
Tara’s little swim runs through my mind slowly, the image of events rolling like an old filmstrip being manually viewed. Revenge tastes sweet, sure, but what did I gain from all that? She’s wet, pissed, and out some clothes and personal items from her purse.
But now she’s angry and on the warpath. I’m her target.
I should feel something at that realization, right? I don’t.
No cold dread.
No hot fear.
I’m neutral. Warm and boring.
Seriously—what could Tara do to me now that she hasn’t already done? How could she hurt me any more?
Humming is good for the soul. As the road stretches out before me, I speed up just a little, careful to stay within five miles of the speed limit. Mom and Daddy have taught me to follow the law. There’s nothing worse than a lawmaker’s child being caught breaking it.
