Hurricane Days (13 page)

“That may be. But I think where there’s smoke…you know, too often some of my less fortunate colleagues have been caught doin’ the one thing they said they were against. It happens all the time.”

“Like your gambling problem!” Robin exclaimed as she shut off the TV. She needed a moment of peace anyway. She turned away from the screen, toward the windows that now flashed with headlights. Her heart began to pound…

Chapter Twenty-Two

I loved Florida skies. At the end of each day, as I walked up the hill toward the dorm, I’d notice the wisps of pink cotton candy clouds floating overhead. They were only a temporary distraction, though. What I was most interested in was seeing if the light was on in one particular seventh-floor window—the one on the end. When it was, my heart beat a little faster and my feet got lighter as I ran up the steps to the towering building. The front desk staff must have thought I had some kind of condition. Every time I went into the lobby, panting and sweating, I had to stop to catch my breath. Not wanting Adrienne to see me like that, I’d stop in the bathroom to freshen up before entering our room. I started tying my hair back more, because the humidity would make strands of it stick to the back of my neck.

Most days, Adrienne wasn’t in the restroom. But on the rare occasion when she was, I would nod, duck into a stall and wait for her to leave. It was a bizarre way to live, but I’d become so accustomed to my strange rituals, they had begun to seem normal.

I was losing the emotional war I was fighting in my head. I knew it every day, my face sometimes betraying my thoughts, my feelings. Mundane moments of everyday life rippled through my mind like treasured photographs. The way Adrienne turned around when I called her name, the inside jokes we began to share, simply studying beside her quietly—there was no work of art or piece of music that could hold my attention quite like this. No Chopin piece could rival her voice, especially her throaty laugh. This was the stuff girls in high school wrote notes and poems about. This was the reason why they etched certain initials in the margins of their notebooks. It all made sense now, like one of my senses had now been turned on and couldn’t be switched off.

I’d lie in bed and remember the comfortable nights with Marc back home. I realized that Adrienne made me feel anything
but
comfortable. The constant butterflies in my stomach whenever Adrienne was near—that must have been what it was like for Marc. I’d feel a pang of guilt, then roll over to erase it.

My trips to the library grew more frequent and urgent. I eventually read all of the top-secret books I’d stashed in the Psychology section.

One night, when there was autumn frost on the Spanish moss and shrubs around campus, Adrienne returned to the room fresh from her shower wearing only a pink terrycloth towel. “Did you turn the heat off again?” she exclaimed, rushing over to the thermostat.

“I was hot,” I said.

“You’re always hot.”

“You’re cold when it’s sixty degrees! You don’t know what real cold is.”

Adrienne closed her eyes. “Twenty degrees. I know.” She turned the heat on and took a seat at her desk, studying beside me. Her long, wet, curled hair dripped down her exposed neck… My breathing became shallow. Droplets of moisture glistened on her bare, broad shoulders… My thoughts were wild horses; I tried to focus them on my book.

What a cruel world—forced to read about the political structures of China and India—when all I could think about was gently placing my lips upon her shoulder…so smooth, so soft…and gliding my mouth lightly across her skin, gathering beads of sweet water with my lips, caressing her skin with my face.

I wiped my eyes and exhaled loudly, suddenly remembering where I was.

“You okay?” Adrienne asked.

“Yeah. Just Comparative Politics.”

“Is it hard?”

“Getting harder.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Robin.” It was
her
voice.

Without looking up, Robin poured two glasses of white wine.

“You know I’m a beer drinker,” Adrienne said. Robin raised her head and met those caramel eyes, now with a new line or two around the edges. They only made her even more striking. She noticed that Adrienne was wearing a simple but glamorous black dress, something she’d never seen her wear before, with black hose and heels, not the casual boots she used to favor. She actually heard the faint sound of her heels clicking on the marble tiles before she entered. Adrienne’s slight smile was intimate, familiar. “This is fine.” She took the glass, briefly touching Robin’s fingertips, watching her with obvious curiosity. “You look so different now. It’s not your face. Maybe the clothes.”

Robin self-consciously pulled at her blouse. She’d removed her scarf and the blazer of her pantsuit, feeling they were too formal now.

“Please, no small talk. Why are you doing this?” Robin was intense, her eyes like steel.

Adrienne searched her face as though she was trying to solve a mystery. “You’re a liar.”

“You mastered the art of hypocrisy quite well yourself.” Robin swirled the wine in her glass, careful to avoid Adrienne’s eyes, now glistening in the dim light. She looked almost delicious.

“I was different back then,” Adrienne said.

“So was I.” Robin came closer. “You should know, Adrienne, I won’t allow anyone to destroy my career.”

“Should I be worried about getting out of here alive?”

“This is not a joke.”

Adrienne looked oddly at her. “So it’s true. Politicians
are
scary.” She walked over to a window and peeled back part of a curtain to reveal the black, starless night. “What the hell happened to you anyway?”

“
Me!
” The governor was off the hinges now. “You were the one who…” For just a moment she felt a splinter of the pain she’d suffered over this woman. But she clenched her jaw and made a dismissive gesture, as if nothing that had happened between them was worth talking about.

Adrienne set down her drink. “I’ve changed, Robin.”

Hearing her say her name again…she felt her all over again—her laugh, her soft skin, her irreverence—and she suffered all over again—in a single instant. She felt a perverse pleasure in the pain of it all. Maybe it reminded her she was still alive. But a desperate voice inside reminded her of her faltering campaign, not to mention the damage this would eventually do to her family.

“How exactly did this leak occur?” Robin asked.

“It was a casual conversation in a bar,” Adrienne replied.
Just as Robin had suspected.
“This guy asked if I knew you, and I said, ‘oh yeah,’ and winked. I might’ve added a few other words. Like ‘in the Biblical sense.’”

Robin closed her eyes. “Oh, Adrienne.” If she’d been anyone else, Robin would have been tempted to throw her through the window.

“It was an accident,” Adrienne said.

“How did they get that photo?” Robin asked.

“I honestly don’t know.” She seemed sincere. “They wanted me to go on all these shows, but I wouldn’t. Not until I talked to you first.”

“How admirable,” Robin said sarcastically. “What do you want from me? Money?”

Adrienne seemed offended. “I don’t need your money.”

“Don’t you? I hear you’re playing in a band, no recording contract…awfully risky for someone your age, don’t you think?”

Adrienne let out a bitter chuckle. “I’d almost forgotten that self-righteous bitch tone you get.”

“Let’s be honest.” Robin set down her drink. “This scandal certainly gave your little group some publicity, am I right?”

Adrienne stepped closer. “Get one thing straight. I never meant for this to be public. But now that it is, let’s get real. The first time I saw you on a morning show, talking about unnatural unions, I spit out my coffee. What the hell was that?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Yeah, you do,” Adrienne snapped. “I’m gay, and you’re an affront to all gay people.”

“So you’re calling yourself a lesbian now?” Robin raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess you
have
changed.”

“Fuck you. The little Southern belle routine is getting really old and boring.”

“Don’t presume to know me. It’s been over twenty years.”

“Twenty-seven years and four months.” Adrienne traced her glass with her fingertip. “I still remember how you taste.”

Robin tried to maintain her composure. “I don’t agree with that lifestyle.”

“Bullshit. You
were
that lifestyle. You wanted it, and you got it.”

“Stop it! Just stop it!”

Was Adrienne playing with her? Trying to get a rise out of her?

Peter barged in when he heard Robin’s raised voice, but mostly because he was nosy. “Everything okay?”

Adrienne turned to view him, an eyebrow arched. “Who’s this?”

“Peter, please, give us a minute.”

“Okay.” He eyed Adrienne; it was obvious he was threatened by her in more ways than one. He kept watching her as he backed out of the room.

Robin exhaled deeply. “How can you visit me twenty-seven years later and think you know anything about who I am? You know how much a person can change in that time?” Even as she asked the question, Robin knew that she herself still imagined Adrienne as a snapshot frozen in time, never changing, always the party girl she used to know. She had no idea what Adrienne had gone through in the years between.

“Of course I know,” Adrienne said easily. “Look at me. I used to think I had to make out with a whole football team to be comfortable with who I am.” Unlike the governor’s minions, Adrienne held her ground and unnerved Robin with her strong sense of self.

After all these years, Robin Sanders was nothing but a well-rehearsed paper doll. And Adrienne was the only other person besides her who seemed to know it.

“What do you want from me?” Robin asked quietly.

“I want you to admit it. That something happened between us.”

She wanted validation?
How ironic.
The tables had turned. Robin took a deep breath. “Yes, something did happen between us.” Her eyes filled. Just saying the words aloud unleashed an unexpected flood. “Just remember who broke whose heart!” She tried to catch her breath. “You hurt
me
!” She grabbed her pearl necklace to collect herself.

Adrienne pulled her cell phone from her purse and touched the screen. “That’s all I needed.” The phone had been clipped to the outside of the small black purse, so inconspicuous, Robin hadn’t noticed it.

A sickening sensation overtook Robin as she realized it wasn’t validation Adrienne was looking for, but a confession. Tom was right. All she had wanted was to bring her down.

“Adrienne!”

It was on video now, potential fodder for YouTube or the highest bidder.

Her former roommate turned on her heel and started for the door.

Robin had been a fool for this woman once, and now, her weakness for her was about to cost her everything she’d worked so hard for.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Yes, yes. I like it fine.” I nodded on the phone with my father, even though he couldn’t see me.

“How is that political theory course coming along?” he asked.

“Fine.” The truth was, I was really bored talking about Aristotle, conservatism and foreign policy. But some of the students in my classes were very passionate, and I could see them as young replicas of current senators. Their next stop out of college would be Capitol Hill for sure. In many ways I didn’t feel like I fit in with that crowd at all.

“I hope you’re giving it your full attention, not gettin’ distracted by anything silly.” Of course he meant that my political science major was more important than my other classes.

“No, but I did take some electives. You said I was allowed to do that.”

He groaned. “Your mother told me.” He wasn’t pleased.

“There’s just one,” I lied.

“Your other classes come first, you hear?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your favorite class?”

“My favorite? Um, I’d say the role of media in politics. That’s a good one.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I could easily see how important the media was in shaping social attitudes. It seemed the ones who could master the media could practically rule the world. That kind of power, of course, was intriguing to me.

“Sounds good.” Dad was pleased to see me following in his footsteps, or so he thought. He’d been trying to groom me for the role for years, dreaming that I’d one day go farther than he did. But Mom had to keep reminding him that it was
my
life, not his. “Your mother is sending you a care package. Just a few things, some packs of your favorite tea…I don’t know what else. June, quit talkin’ to me when I’m on the phone! I can’t have two conversations at once! Robin, you’ll just have to check your mail. I don’t remember what all she put in it.”

“That’s fine, Daddy.”

My parents were still snipping at each other when I hung up. When I turned around, Adrienne was watching from her desk. “He doesn’t know you’re majoring in film, does he?”

“No, and he doesn’t need to.” I went about my nightly routine, which began with a series of facial moisturizers. Apparently my skin was as tight as my nerves lately. I wouldn’t look at Adrienne, who was wearing her favorite nightshirt, a faded cotton Seminole football T-shirt with gold stripes on the sleeves. It clung to her breasts just enough to make me blush whenever I looked at her.

A slow smile broke across her face. “I like that you lied to him. It means you’re like, you know, normal.” She laughed. “It seems like something he’s gonna find out eventually, though, don’t you think?”

“Maybe by then I can change his mind.” I stared in the distance, worry creeping over my face. I’d had this conversation with myself many times. But obviously, I hadn’t thought it through very well, not like my usually planning self.

“Will he be pissed about it?” she asked.

“I don’t know!” I finally looked at her and tried to avert my eyes away from her shirt. “What are you anyway, the morality police?”

“I’m not that much of a hypocrite.” Adrienne put on her reading glasses and resumed writing a paper. I assumed it was homework, though I rarely saw her do it.