Jackie Collins, page 19
id Nick call?" Every morning Lauren asked the same question, and every
morning her parents gave her the same stupid answer. "It doesn't
matter whether he did or not. You are never seeing him again."
"I don't care," she replied, her heart beating fast. "I just need to
know."
"It makes no difference," her father said harshly.
"It makes a difference to me," she replied, wondering how she had ever
imagined her father to be a kind and sensitive man.
"Then in that case he has not called you."
She didn't know whether they were telling the truth or not. She sat in
her room and brooded. Did Nick consider her easy? Is sex all he'd
wanted? Oh, God, no! Please, God, no!
They'd been so close and now they seemed so far apart. She knew he
didn't have a phone, so she couldn't call him. Not that her parents
would let her get within ten feet of a telephone. They had her trapped
in the house, guarding her as if she was a maximum-security prisoner.
"What have I done that's so terrible?" she asked one day.
"You were engaged to one of the finest boys in town," her father
replied, his face stony. "You should have taken into consideration
that I was doing business with Stock's father before recklessly
breaking off your engagement."
"I didn't realize it was a business arrangement," she muttered.
"You owed it to us to tell your family, not the whole town," her father
said.
She couldn't believe they were being so mean. "I've never done
anything to upset you in my life," she said. "No alcohol, drugs or any
of the things some of the kids at school get into. All I did was
borrow the family car, and you're punishing me like I'm a criminal."
Together-the perfect team-they said in unison, "You have to learn the
hard way, Lauren, or you won't learn at all."
"What will happen when school starts?" she asked. "You can't watch
over me every day then."
"When the new semester commences we hope youl have learned your
lesson," Phil said.
And what if I haven't? What if the first time I see Nick we mn off
together?
As if reading her mind her mother chimed in with, "If you see Nick
Angelo at school, I want your solemn promise you'll have nothing to do
with him."
She crossed her fingers behind her back. "Okay, Mother, if that makes
you happy."
Yeah. Good little Lauren was learning to play the game their way -and
it was their fault.
On her first day back she bumped into Meg on the way to history
class.
"OhmyGod! OhmyGod!" Meg exclaimed excitedly. "I've been desperate to
see you. I've called you dozens of times. I even came by your house
and begged your mom. She wouldn't let me in. What is going on?"
"You tell me," Lauren said. "I've been held prisoner, cut off from
everything."
Meg lowered her voice. "There's been rumors you were pregnant and had
to have an abortion."
"Are you serious? Surely you know what happened?"
"You mean at the New Year's dance?"
"Right-when Stock hit Nick, broke his nose, and I drove him to the
hospital in Ripley. I'm sure you heard we got stuck there overnight,
the roads were closed and we couldn't get back. My parents were" "Oh,"
Meg said, sounding disappointed. "Is that all?"
"Isn't that enough?"
Meg wanted to know more. "What happened with you and Nick?"
"Nothing," Lauren lied. "I was punished for absolutely nothing."
"Nick Angelo is the worst. How come you drove him to the hospital?
Stock's been so upset. Mack and I have tried to look after him but
he's, like, heartbroken." Meg shook her head. "You treated him
badly."
Lauren was incensed. "I treated him badly? How about the way he
carried on?"
Meg continued as if she hadn't heard a word. "Throwing his ring at him
and everything. I heard it was Nick who tried to attack him and that's
why Stock broke his nose-he was only defending himselœ" "That's not
true."
"Yes, it is. Nick Angelo is an animal. Look what he did to me."
Lauren attempted to remain calm. "What did he do to you, Meg?"
"Practically raped me."
She had a strong desire to smack her friend's smug face. "Oh, and I
suppose you didn't provoke it?"
"What do you mean?"
"It seems to me that every time you go out with a boy the same thing
happens."
Meg flushed. "It certainly doesn't."
"I thought you were my friend," Lauren said sadly.
"And I thought you were a friend worth having," Meg replied, with a
spiteful glare.
Miserably Lauren sat in class, her eyes searching the room for Nick.
He failed to appear.
Shortly before lunch break she spotted Joey in the corridor and hurried
over. "Hi. Can we talk?"
He gave her a dirty look. "Oh, you resurfaced, huh?"
"What does that mean?"
"It would've been nice if you'd called Nick after all that happened."
"After what happened?"
"His little brother dying and all."
She was genuinely shocked. "What?"
He could see she wasn't acting. "You didn't hear?"
"I've been grounded since New Year's."
Joey felt uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. Nick told me you wouldn't talk
to him."
She wondered how much Joey knew. "Why would I avoid him?" she asked
carefully.
"He called your house enough times. Your parents said you didn't want
to speak to him."
"That was them talking-not me. Please, Joey, tell me what happened."
"His half brother got sick with pneumonia. Doc Sheppard refused to
treat him, so they had to take him to another doctor in Ripley. The
kid died in the hospital there."
"Oh, God! That's so awful."
"Yeah."
"Where is Nick? I have to see him."
"He won't be back in school."
"Why not?"
"He was thrown out on account of your boyfriend."
"You mean expelled?"
"Yeah. The Browning family didn't want him around-they put on the
pressure. Course it didn't help that he smashed up the sign in front
of Doc Sheppard's house, and threatened to beat the shit outta the old
fart."
"He did?"
"Yeah, Cyndra went with him. The old fuck called the sherifœ Nick
spent the night in the can. Cyndra wanted to join him-but I managed to
persuade her it wasn't the coolest move in the world."
"Where is he now?" she asked, thinking about what he must have gone
through.
"Workin' down at the garage full time. Old man Browning tried to stop
that too-but George wouldn't listen. If the Brownings had their way
they'd run him out of town."
"Can you take me there?"
"Sure, but if we get caught there'll be big trouble."
"Don't tell me about trouble."
"Okay. Meet me in the parking lot in five minutes."
"I'll be there."
"An' don't mention it to your big-mouthed girlfriend either. She's
real tight with Stock an' all his buddies."
"I understand."
She hurried to her locker and grabbed her purse and jacket. On her way
downstairs she ran straight into Stock and a group of his everpresent
cronies. Their eyes met. The group went silent.
"Uh . hi," she said, trying to make the most of an awkward
situation.
Stock's jaw tightened, his right eye twitched, his hand strayed toward
his crotch. Then he totally ignored her-pushing by as if she didn't
exist.
Okay with me. If that's the way you want it, Stock Browning, I can
handle it.
Joey was waiting out in the parking lot, revving up his motorcycle.
"Climb aboard," he said. "We'd better split before we get ourselves
busted."
She jumped on the back of his bike and they took off. Whatever the
consequences, she didn't care. She was on her way to see Nick, and
that's all that mattered.
hanks, sweetie." The woman in the maroon Cadillac had enormous breasts
stretching the confines of a tight pink sweater. She'd been in twice
this week to gas up her cannot that she needed to, the second time he'd
almost had an overflow at three gallons.
Nick strolled casually around the car. "Want me to check your oil an'
water?" he asked.
"Why not, sweetie?"
While he was checking under the hood he noticed she was checking out
her face in a flashy silver compact. The woman scrutinized first the
eyes-heavily mascara'd and outlined in black. Next the nosepowder,
powder. And lastly the lips-full, sexy lips glossed and ready for
action. She had long reddish hair and wore a fur coat which did not
succeed in covering her outstanding sweater-clad breasts. She was old,
at least thirty. Nick was an expert at figuring women's ages.
"Who is she?" he'd asked George, the first time she came in.
"Never seen her before," George had said, chewing tobacco. "Illinois
plates-must be visiting."
"You got a johnnie here?" the woman asked, snapping shut her
compact.
"A what?"
"!ite crir]' rnnn" He pointed.
She got out of the car.
She was tall-which was fortunate, Nick thought, because with the pair
she was carrying, falling flat on her face would otherwise be a
distinct possibility. Her fur coat ended at the hip. Under it she
wore a short skirt and thigh-high black patent leather boots.
"You from around here?" he asked, knowing she wasn't.
She ran her tongue across her front teeth. "Passing through on my way
to civilization. Staying a week with my sister."
"Having fun?" He could have kicked himselœ What kind of a dumb
question was that? How could anyone have fun in Bosewell?
She looked him over slowly-seductive eyes raking him from top to
bottom. "Nope," she said, sauntering off to the restroom.
George winked conspiratorially. "She's got the hots for you, boy.
Better watch it! Didja get an eyeful of those gazumbas? Wouldn't mind
a mouthful myself." George began to chuckle and wheeze.
A few weeks ago, Nick thought, this woman might have been a
challenge.
But now . . . who cared? All he was interested in was making
money-plenty of money-and as soon as he'd saved five hundred bucks he
was on his way out of this pisshole.
The woman had left her open purse on the front seat. He noticed her
wallet poking out-crammed with bills. When she came back he pointed it
out to her. "You shouldn't leave your purse open like that -it's
asking' for trouble."
"Story of my life," she said, smiling laconically. "How was my oil?"
"Fine."
"I don't need anything?"
"You're perfect."
She handed him a credit card and he put it through the machine.
Genevieve Rose. He'd already noticed the wedding ring-a fat band of
diamonds.
"Where you from?" he asked, as she signed with a flourish.
"Chicago. Ever been there?"
"My friend has. His dad was a cop."
Another dumb remark. Jeer! What was the matter with him today?
"A cop, huh? The worst kind." She slipped him a five-buck tip and
drove off without another word.
"Hey, she gave me a five," he told George.
"Frame it," George said. "It's the first an' last time you'll see a
tip like that."
"Yeah." He went into the restroom and sniffed-her perfume lingered.
He rinsed his face with cold water and noticed the mirror above the
sink was still cracked, George said it wasn't worth having fixed.
Peering at himself he gingerly touched his nose. It wasn't the same-it
would never be the same-but it didn't look too bad. Not straight like
before, slightly bent and rough-looking. But somehow it gave his face
more character and certainly made him appear older than seventeen.
Betty Harris said his broken nose gave his face a strength it hadn't
had before.
He wasn't sure.
"When you're famous you can always have it fixed," she'd said.
Famous! Holy shit! For her to say a thing like that was a compliment
indeed.
Betty Harris had turned out to be the one constant presence he could
trust. Now that he no longer had school to contend with, he divided
his time between work for money and work for pleasure. The long
sessions with Betty were pure pain mixed with intense pleasure.
Acting satisfied him in a way nothing else had. Since he was thirteen
he'd always had sex to get lost in, but after Lauren, mindless sex did
not hold the same appeal, so now he took all of his pent-up energy and
channeled it into the roles Betty allowed him to play. Hamlet was a
particular favorite, and Stanley in Streetcar. Oh, yeah, he could
really let rip-pouring every emotion into the highly charged complex
characters.
Betty was impressed. She praised him constantly, and her encouragement
really helped. When he'd got himself thrown into jail for messing up
the outside of Dr. Sheppard's house, Betty had put up his bail. He'd
been charged with defacing property. If he'd had his way he'd have
defaced the old white-haired gnome of a doctor from here to eternity.
But for that old man, Luke might still be alive.
After the initial shock Aretha Mae had reverted to her usual stoic
self. Primo was unaffected-Luke hadn't meant anything to him.
Cyndra was sad. And Harlan inconsolable. Night after night Nick
listened to the kid sob himself to sleep. A few times Cyndra took
Harlan into her bed and comforted him with stories and songs.
Sometimes Nick joined in. The three of them formed a bond. For the
first time since his mother died he really felt he had a family.
Primo had tried to cause trouble over him borrowing the van. For once
Aretha Mae shut him up with an acid tongue-lashing he wouldn't forget
in a hurry. Primo had slunk off like a beaten dog.
When they'd thrown him out of school he hadn't bothered telling his
father. What was the point? George gave him a permanent job at the
garage, and every buck he made he put away-stashing it under his
mattress-watching the pile of bills grow larger every week.
As for Lauren-he'd shut her out of his mind. When he didn't hear from
her . . . when there was never any message, he'd felt a deep sense of
betrayal. He'd opened himself up to another human being and look where
it had gotten him-exactly nowhere. Never again.
Love-you could shove it.
Emerging from the restroom he bumped into George, who said, "You got a
visitor. Use the office."
"Who?" he asked, but George was off doing something else.
He entered the small, cramped office and there she was-Lauren -perched
on the edge of the old warped desk, looking as beautiful as ever.
