AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“... and that I wasn’t going to show up?”
Well, yeah,I want to say as Lynn walks to the first unoccupied partition window. I mean, yes, Lynn first reached out to me after that whole bullshit debacle went down; I guess she found the secret e-mail account her husband used to set up his sex-play trysts, and then got my contact information through Alexis. And yes, she spoke to me at length about what happened that night with Patrick, and if anyone had seen, and if I thought he’d done it with lots of others, and what I was after that night, anyway.
I’d been honest with her back then. I’d even told her about my arrangement with Greg Strasser, which seemed, interestingly, to break the ice. I told her the only thing I wanted was to continue going to school. But I didn’t think anything would come of it. After that, Lynn gruffly ended the call, and I figured I’d never hear from her again. But months later, she called me. Said she’d done some thinking and wanted to pay my tuition herself. I almost fell off my couch when I heard those words.
“Help you?” the bored woman behind the window asks, eyeing Lynn and me.
Lynn sits down in the chair facing the window and explains to the woman that she wants to set up an account to withdraw fundsto pay for the rest of my schooling here. The woman slips her the appropriate form, and Lynn picks up a pen. Then she looks at me. “What’s your last name again?”
“H-Hammond,” I stammer.
“Date of birth?” Then she rolls her eyes. “Actually, here. You fill this in.”
Lynn’s posture is straight. She stares rigidly ahead. I write in my important details—my student ID and social security numbers, the address where I’m now living, how many credits I have left, et cetera. At the bottom, Lynn provides a bank routing and account number for the bursar to use to make automatic withdrawals.
She slides the completed paperwork back through the slot in the window, and the woman on the other side of the glass begins to type it into the system. Lynn places her sunglasses back over her eyes, preparing to go back outdoors.
“Lynn,” I cry, my voice squeaking unpleasantly.
Lynn eyes me coldly. Almost like she doesn’t like me—which, I mean, whywouldshe? I swallow hard. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. You know I’m not going to say anything.” Exposing Patrick Godfrey would mean exposing myself. I thought Lynn understood that. After everything I’ve gone through, I still put myself first. I have to.
Lynn snaps her handbag shut, a prim, no-nonsense expression on her face. “I’m doing it because my husband will hate it.”
I blink.
“He doesn’t want to be reminded of that night. This is my way of sticking it to him.”
I stick my tongue in the gap where I had the tooth pulled, long ago. I’m not sure I like the idea of being a pawn in someone’s marriage. It makes my position precarious, like Lynn could take away the gift she’s given me when she gets tired of torturing Patrick.
Her face softens. “And you remind me of me when I was your age. I did strange things for money when I was young, too. And mymother also wasn’t particularly supportive. But I don’t want you to do that stuff anymore. Because, I mean, my God. You could have been killed.”
I lower my head. That bedroom in that house haunts me. The situation could have become so ugly. It’s something I could never do again. I wish I could say that things have worked out with Alexis, but we haven’t spoken since that night. I still think about her, though. I wonder if she thinks of me, too. I wonder if we’ll ever see each other again. Sometimes, I still think I see her on campus... until I remember. She was never a student here.
But Sienna is. I’ve tried my hardest to be a shoulder to cry on. That’s not to say I’m taking the news about Alfred in stride. I never,everthought that dude had it in him. In fact, something about it seems kind of fishy—could a man battling cancer really overpower someone as virile as Greg Manning? But that isn’t a question for me to ask. The old Raina might have tried to dig it up—and scam Sienna for it, maybe—but that’s not me anymore. I guess Greg was right: I reallyamtrying to be a better person.
“We’re all done,” the bursar officer says, passing Lynn a receipt. “Have a nice day.”
Lynn folds the receipt and places it in the front pocket of her purse. “Just be careful, all right?” she says as we move away from the window. “You’re smart. I can tell. You’re going to be something someday. So I guess it’s about that, too. I’m making an investment in a future. Maybe someday you’ll cut me in on a business deal. Stock options before you go public. How about that?”
“S-Sure.” And it’s not out of pity, either. She thinks I have a future. She thinks Ibelonghere, at Aldrich. Maybe even more than Greg did.
“Anyway.” Lynn checks her watch, then raises her chin. “I need to be somewhere.” She places a hand lightly on my arm, but then seems to think better of doing anything affectionate and pulls away. “Be good to yourself, Raina. And remember, I’m always watching.”And with that, she pushes through the door to the outside. I trail behind her. Lynn’s high heelsclackdown the sidewalk.
The August sunshine beats down on my head. Has this actually just happened? I can feel the smile widening on my face. And then I revisit what she’s just said:I’m always watching.
I bet she is. I bet she’s going to make sure I make good on my promise not to get into trouble. But you know what? I don’t mind someone watching out for me. I don’t mind that at all.
49
LYNN
AUGUST 15, 2017
And the oysters for monsieur and madame.” A waiter sets a beautiful plate of bluepoint oysters on the table. “Bon appétit,” he adds, and then discreetly backs away.
I admire the shells for a moment, and then glance around the room to see if anyone is ogling our meals, too. It’s somethingIalways do at restaurants—I always love to see what other people eat. Then I push the plate toward Patrick. “Here, darling. Have the first one.” I wink, adding saucily: “You know what they say about oysters.”
Patrick eyes the plate, then picks up an oyster shell and knocks it back. I watch him chew and swallow. He pushes the plate to me. His movements are a little forced and wooden—if it gets any worse, I’ll talk to him about it later. I slide my foot up his leg under the table. I feel him flinch, but then he goes still, letting it happen.
