Hurricane Days (14 page)

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said quietly.

Adrienne held up her hand. “I got it.”

I kept watching her as she wrote. “You think it’s bad?” I asked.

She removed her glasses and faced me with a slight smile. “No,” she said softly. “I don’t think it’s bad at all. It’s important to have dreams.”

“You sound like you know.”

She lowered her eyes. “There are some…interests I have.”

“Oh God,” I said. “You want to sell drugs.”

“No, dummy!” She threw her pen at me. After a pause, she said, “I never wanted to be one of those conventional girls, the ones who find their husband and get the house with the pool. Or the ones who work nine to five for some jackass who never appreciates what they do. Then they retire after they’re really old and wonder what it was all for.”

“You’ve really given some thought to this.” My smile was one of amusement, though I wished it wasn’t. I liked hearing her thoughts, and I didn’t want her to feel shy or that I was laughing at her.

“Yeah, well.” She started to turn back around again.

“I think it’s great that you don’t want a traditional job,” I said.

She looked at me, and for a split second, she seemed like a young girl searching for approval. “You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

We smiled at each other. I think we recognized that in a very real way, we were alike. There was a rebel lurking inside both of us.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The next night, Adrienne slipped a tape in the VCR. She seemed giddy, as if she couldn’t wait to show me. “Sean let me borrow it.”

“Let me guess. More heavy metal videos?” My head was buried in a textbook.

“Not hardly.”

When I glanced at the screen, there was a naked woman lying on her back on a white mattress. Her legs were spread wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her hand rubbed and swirled between her thighs, as her hips thrust up and down.

I gasped. I couldn’t look away, so I watched with my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I’d never seen anything like this on a TV screen before.

The woman on the tape seemed to be aching with pleasure and really enjoying being watched. Her hand started rubbing faster and faster, her fingers caressing herself, then a finger or two slipped inside…

I could hear Adrienne’s breath catch in her throat. “Whoa,” she finally sighed.

I don’t think I breathed for several seconds. Then the screen went black.

“What was
that
?” I resumed breathing again.

“Porn.” Adrienne jokingly pulled the neckline of her shirt back and forth, as if in need of some air. “Is it stuffy in here?” She laughed.

“And you wanted to watch it?” I was still in shock.

“Don’t start. Sometimes porn is hot. Usually Sean’s videos have couples fucking.”

“That’s what you do at his apartment? Watch porn?”

“Sometimes.” Adrienne wanted to see my reaction. But I gave nothing away. “You don’t like it, I know.”

“I didn’t say that.” I surprised myself, and maybe Adrienne too. I went back to my textbook, but there was no way I could care about the political structure of China right now. I could tell that Adrienne was intrigued by my comment, but she said nothing more.

That night as we lay in bed, I remembered my past school crushes. I’d never thought of them in a sexual way—I was drawn to a pretty face, wanting to stare a little longer than I should, I guess. But that was all. I’d never thought of the other puzzle piece, and tonight I had been strangely aroused by watching a stranger pleasure herself. I didn’t believe I could get excited by anyone I didn’t already know, let alone a faceless woman on a screen. Try as I might, I couldn’t even recall the woman’s face!

Was I no better than a sexist guy, appreciating women only for their bodies? This thought disturbed me. No, I answered to myself. I deeply admired several women in politics and world leaders who fought against injustice.
There. My feminism was restored.
Able to relax again, I tried to close my eyes and go to sleep. But the conflict churning inside wouldn’t go away.

My religion, my inner self and now even my inner feminist all seemed at odds with this emerging awareness. They were now arguing and exploding inside my head like an episode of
Meet the Press
.

Nighttime was the worst. Just knowing that Adrienne was there, so uncomfortably, dangerously near…

In the darkness, I thought I heard her bed sheet rustling. I looked over at her bed, which was illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. Though her eyes were closed, she seemed to be moving her hand under the covers.

I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Robin was desperate. “What do you want?”

Adrienne hesitated by the door. “Change your stance on gay rights.”

“You know I can’t do that. That’s why people have voted for me.”

“They voted for a lie.” Adrienne turned around. Her face was determined, even more mysterious in the floating shadows from the firelight.

Robin momentarily lost her bearings. Then she gazed directly into the eyes of
her
, forever her rival, her undoing. She couldn’t help but notice the glow from the fire upon her, accentuating the features of her face. “You never did have any scruples.”

“You’re going to do it because this…” She held up her phone. “This shows you to be a liar and a homo. I’m not sure which is worse to you.”

“You really are a ghastly woman!”

“Ghastly!” Adrienne mocked. It was as if they were in the doughnut shop all over again. “Where are we, Victorian England?”

Robin gripped the edge of her desk for support. “You want money?”

“I told you what I want.”

“I can’t and I won’t.”

“You can and you will.”

“This is blackmail, Adrienne.”

She smiled broadly. “I prefer to think of it as forceful persuasion.” She started toward the door again. “Anyone lays a hand on me, I’ll file charges.” She stopped right before opening it. “If you don’t do this for me, you’ll find out what a real scandal is.”

“I’d sooner drop out of the race…”

“Do what you have to do.” With that, Adrienne left.

Robin was paralyzed, listening to the click of the door closing and the distant echo of Adrienne’s heels all the way out the front door.

Peter popped his head in. “Everything okay?”

Robin nodded. But it wasn’t okay at all. Nothing would be okay again from this point on.

* * *

So Adrienne wanted to destroy her. Robin stood frozen under the archway, a swarm of staff members flanking her on all sides. There was Jeannette Fishburn, a veteran speechwriter, and, of course, Lara Denning, who waved the others away. “She needs her space, everybody. Go home! Get some sleep!”

Peter gave her the look of death; Lara was treading on his territory. “That’s right,” he said, clearing his throat. “Everyone out!”

But Jeannette wouldn’t be deterred. She blocked Robin’s way with notepad fresh in hand. “Governor, you’ll need to make some kind of statement about your meeting with Ms. Austen.”

“That’s an understatement.” Lara was usually annoyed with Jeannette.

Though she could write first-rate speeches, Jeannette was, to someone like Lara, too mousy and forgettable to work in politics. But even though Jeannette blended into the background much of the time, Robin knew she was someone not to underestimate. In fact, Robin was very good at trusting her intuition about people—except where Adrienne was concerned.

Robin’s eyebrows raised. “Why would anyone know about our meeting?” She glared at her seventh advisor. Maybe it was time to contemplate hiring the eighth one.

“I’m sorry, Governor,” Peter said softly. “There was a guy from the
Journal-Constitution
hiding in the bushes. He totally fooled security.”

Robin groaned and tore across the room, toward the stairs. “Is it too much to ask for everyone to do their jobs around here?” Her voice had a tinge of hysteria, the kind of sound that suggested she was coming unglued. She climbed a few more steps, then rested against the banister. She didn’t feel well and she knew she didn’t look it either.

Unfortunately, Jeannette had no sense of good or bad timing. “Governor Sanders, please. We need a statement we can release to the press, or more questions will come up. Surely I don’t have to tell you we don’t need the distract—”

“You want a statement?” Robin thundered. “I’ll give you a statement! I’m giving a press conference tomorrow!” She stormed up the stairs, leaving her staff to bicker amongst themselves.

Before she could reach the top of the stairs, Robin could hear Peter responding to something that Lara had said: “That may not be wise with the state of mind she’s in.”

She reached the top floor and started making her way down the long hall. Feeling dizzy, she kept moving forward, the demise of her campaign, her career flashing in front of her eyes. It was always Adrienne, her weakness, her blind spot. Did everyone have someone in their life like that?

Robin chastised herself for her lack of judgment. Once again, she had been so entranced by Adrienne, so distracted and thrilled at the idea of seeing her again, so busy noting every detail of her face, her clothes, trying to imagine what her life had been like for the past twenty-seven years, that she had lost control. Once again Adrienne had gotten the best of her. There was nothing she could do now.

Fleeting thoughts swirled in and out of her head.
Why didn’t the security detail check Adrienne for recording devices?
If only she’d stayed in control like she did with everyone else, she’d have been able to zero in on exactly what Adrienne’s intentions were after all these years.
Why had Adrienne remembered exactly how long it had been, down to the month?
If she had stayed focused, she could have owned the situation. Where Adrienne was concerned, though, she always seemed to lose herself. And this time, it would lead to her downfall. She was sure of it.

Kendrick’s bedroom door was ajar. Usually she kept it closed at night. Even though Robin knew it was sometime after midnight, she crept toward the door to check on her.

As she pushed the door open, she was surprised to see Kendrick, still wearing her brown hoodie from school, sitting up in bed, listening to music with her headphones.

“Ken, honey, you should be in bed.” Robin came inside.

Kendrick was momentarily startled, then slowly took her headphones off. “Technically, I am.”

Robin smiled tiredly. “Okay, smarty-pants.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kendrick said quietly.

Something was wrong. Robin sat on the edge of her bed. “I’d ask you if it was about me, but you always say it isn’t.”

“You remember Christy, from math club?”

“Yes. She’s the only friend you mention by name.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kendrick said. “
Was
my best friend.” She stared down and pulled at a string on her bedspread.

“Uh-oh. What happened?”

Kendrick shrugged like it didn’t matter. But her face was shrouded in despair. “Stupid shit. Everyone at school is sayin’ stupid things.”

“What kinds of things?”

Kendrick couldn’t look her in the eye. “They’re sayin’ that my mom’s a lesbo, so I probably like girls too. Christy doesn’t believe it, but when we hung out together it was just…weird. I guess her mom doesn’t want her hanging out with me anymore.”

“I’m so sorry.” Robin reached for her and wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around her daughter. “This will blow over. I promise.” But she knew she was making a promise that it wasn’t going to be possible to pull off for a while. She privately cursed Adrienne.

* * *

“Everything go okay?”

Tom rolled toward her the moment she climbed into bed. “How did it go?”

“About as I expected,” Robin said. She looked at the clock. Why did he have to be awake at one in the morning? He always fell dead asleep at ten. Why was he in the mood to talk now? Why couldn’t she have some peace and quiet, to suffer in silence like a normal person?

“What did you expect?” he asked.

“I needed to face her—to prove to everyone I won’t back down from my enemies.” It sounded good, no matter how absurd at this moment. She stared up at the ceiling, remembering Adrienne and the loud music she’d always associated with her. The music rang in her head that night. The anger and violence of it… She wanted to listen to it right now.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Tom. I really don’t know.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“What do you think of Sean?” Adrienne asked me.

I’d been reading about subtext in film. The book said that the best film scenes featured dialogue spoken by people who aren’t saying what they really mean. “He’s nice,” I replied.

“He wants me to go away with him for the weekend.”

“Really.” I looked up from my book.

“Yeah. We’re going to Destin.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a pretty beach. Really white sand.”

“Sounds great,” I said, thinking about all the things left unspoken, at least by me.

“Yeah, but it’s a major drive, so we’ll have to cut class Monday.”

“Oh, like you haven’t done that before,” I teased.

“Yeah.” The way she stared off into space, I wondered if she really wanted to go. “They say the beach there has some of the whitest sand in the world.”

“You’re a Florida girl,” I said. “Haven’t you seen all the nearby beaches?”

“My hometown is in
central
Florida. I’ve seen a lot of swamps.”

I smiled at her and nodded. She’d been pretty mysterious about where she lived. I’d decided I wouldn’t ask too many questions and wait for her to tell me whatever she wanted to.

I watched as she pulled her suitcase from the closet. I’d be grateful for a long weekend away from her. I’d have the room all to myself, and I’d spend the whole time trying to figure out whether I was gay or straight.

* * *

The first day she was away, I had long debates with myself that never reached a verdict. I pored over Adrienne’s back issues of
Playgirl
magazine, which she’d stuffed under her bed, and I stared at the centerfolds, particularly those rubbery appendages, which I’d only ever seen before on Greek statues in a museum. I stared and stared until they didn’t make me jump anymore. It was no use. My feelings were nagging at me, only getting stronger. Eventually I found myself pulling Adrienne’s leather jacket off the hook on the back of the door and holding it to my face, inhaling the soft scent of her.
What was happening to me?
I quickly hung the jacket back up, praying she would never have it dusted for fingerprints.