Seeing Red (12 page)

“Well, was your mom or dad overweight? Usually runs
in the family. My mother, bless her heart, could stand to lose
fifty pounds, at least. But unless the diet involves biscuits and
sausages for breakfast, she’s not gonna get on board.”

“I guess this is a good starting point for me to
explain where I grew up,” Jill said as she grabbed two more beers
from the refrigerator and handed one to Heather.

Jill spent the next hour, telling Heather about the
island.

“Every day, I wake up and look in the mirror and say
one of Helen’s funny little life lessons. It gets me through the
day. She would say things like, ‘Honey, it’s always darkest before
the dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper,
that’s the time to do it.’”

“She sounds like a funny lady.”

“She was.” Heather wanted to know all about Onion
Island, so Jillian spent the rest of the evening talking to
Heather, which was something she rarely did and normally disliked
doing, but she felt very comfortable with her. She told her about
the plane crash, the twins, and all the other people that lived
with them. Jillian told her a little bit about life after the
island and boarding school and some more about Oliver and
Alexander. She didn’t mention her clairvoyant curse. Only Oliver
knew that secret.

“Wow. That’s quite the story. My life’s dull in
comparison. I can’t wait to meet your twins. They sound yummy,” she
winked.

“They are, but it’s so complicated. You have no
idea.” They laughed over another round of beers, both starting to
get a little tipsy. “Oh, and to make it even more complicated, they
are gorgeous. I would never admit this to them, but they are
breathtaking male specimens. It’s really just not fair to all the
other men on the planet.”

“Oh, darlin’, do tell. Are these boys cute like
Justin Bieber or gorgeous like Brad Pitt? What are we talking about
here?”

“No honey. These are no boys. There is nothing cute
or Bieber-like about these guys. I’m talking about a pair of
Vikings—think Alexander Skarsgard: rugged but not bulky; probably
about six feet four inches; well-defined cheek bones; cat-like
crystal clear blue eyes, so blue they could leave a girl in a
trance; blond eyelashes; dirty-blond hair; and thin, but pouty,
lips masked by a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

“So Brad Pitt gorgeous?”

“Yes, Brad Pitt gorgeous. Oliver would be
Legends
of the Fall
Brad Pitt, and Alexander would be
Fight Club
Brad Pitt.” They laughed hysterically over the analogy. “Oliver has
the personality of a character straight out of a Nicholas Spark’s
novel: sweet, fiercely loyal, and loving. Alexander has the
personality of . . . I don’t even know an appropriate example. He’s
just Alexander: unreliable, yet smart as hell; sexy, but dangerous.
Definitely not sweet like Oliver. I don’t know. He’s . . .

“Sounds like sex on a stick to me, sugar.”

Jill laughed loud and shook her head. “Yes, that
about covers it. But Oliver’s pretty sexy too. They’re twins, and
other than their completely different personalities, they look
almost identical. Except that Oliver has very short hair—almost
completely shaved, and Alexander has longer tousled hair that he
tries to manage by putting it into a pony tail that never holds. So
he’s always got that I-just-woke-up-and-had-great-sex hair.”

“Sounds to me that you got two boys wrapped around
those pretty lil’ curls of yours, and I think you like it.”

“No, it’s not like that. We’ve known each other our
entire lives. They’re family. Well, sometimes they don’t act like
family, but they are.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, sugar.” She smiled
at Jill. “You ain’t got too many people in your life, but it seems
that the two people you do have keep you pretty busy and
protected.” With that, the conversation dwindled down and they went
to bed.

Jill was resolved to spend her weekend going through
Helen’s journals that she had neglected over the last few years. In
fact, had it not been for the move, she would have forgotten all
about them. The images of the redheaded man were haunting her, and
for some reason, she felt pulled towards the journals as if they
held the answer to her visions. This was a secret she had not
shared with anyone. She was beginning to think she was losing her
mind. She was settled into her new home, had gotten through the
first week of school, and was caught up in her studies. It was
time. She pulled out the first box and began taking notebooks
out.

For some reason unbeknownst to Jill, Helen had
gifted these boxes of journals to her, and she owed her the respect
to at least dedicate some time to them. Over the last four years,
she’d skim through some of the journals but hadn’t thought of them
as anything other than nostalgia. Each journal contained about 500
pages of notes, scribbles, and drawings on both front and back. It
was an overwhelming endeavor to attempt to sit and read them all.
She decided to grab the oldest journal and start there. As soon as
she opened the page, a piece of paper slipped out.

Jillian almost fell back at what she saw. It was a
photo of the redheaded man that was tormenting her thoughts
attached to what seemed to be a police report stamped “UNRESOLVED”.
The charges—murder.

Some days
you’re the bug, and some days you’re the windshield.

-Helen

Jillian

After spending most of the weekend reading Helen’s
journals, Jill felt unequipped to take on the world on Monday
morning. Her only consolation was that she would see Professor
Black. She was ten minutes early to class, so she grabbed her usual
seat towards the front of the class and turned on her laptop. She
was looking forward to the new week and put the journals on the
backburner of her mind. Maybe Heather was rubbing off on her.

While checking her emails, a big heavy arm wrapped
around her neck like a choke hold, and a big wet kiss was planted
on her cheek.

“Good morning, Red. How was your weekend?” She was
startled, but she wouldn’t allow anyone to ruin her good mood.

“Hey, Xander. It was great. How was yours?” she
answered with a big smile. He raised an eyebrow, suspiciously.

“Why are you so chirpy this morning? Did you get
laid or something?”

“Alexander! Gross! What the hell is wrong with you?
I am not going to dignify that with a response.” This man
infuriated her more than any other she knew.

“Then I assume the answer is yes. And, by the way,
you should keep it up. I like chirpy Red that calls me Xander—just
like old times.” He winked.

“If you must know, my new roommate, Heather, is very
nice, and it feels good to have a friend. Plus, I spent all weekend
reading, and not only am I caught up with this week’s reading on
all our classes but I read next week’s as well. It feels great to
be prepared. You should try it sometime.” She sounded snooty, even
to herself.

“Smarty-pants,” he whispered into her ear, sending a
weird sensation down her spine, actually into her “smarty” pants.
He walked up to his usual seat in the back of the class, and she
turned back around and kept going through her emails as the rest of
the students started coming in and filling up the classroom. She
noticed an email from Oliver as the professor was walking in.

Jillian,

How was the first week of school? How’s Alexander
behaving? I wish you could see how beautiful it is here in the
middle of nowhere. It’s hard to get Internet access. I just arrived
at the hotel, but it is only in preparation for our first shoot
tomorrow. So this is my first and maybe only email to you. I don’t
know when I’ll have access again. I hope you kick some law school
ass. Jillian, remember to have some fun while you’re there. Xander
may have that market cornered, but there’s something to be said for
letting loose and having some fun now and again. Don’t take
yourself so seriously. Let loose a little.

Gotta go.

Love you,

O

P.S. I saw a jaguar today (and I don’t mean the
car)—I’ll try to send you some photos soon.

She had a grin from ear to ear as she read.

“Ms. Stone!”

“Ms. Stone!” Next to her, a student coughed,
bringing her attention back into the classroom and out of Brazil.
She looked up.

“Ms. Stone! It’s nice of you to join us. Am I
interrupting something special on your screen?”

“Um, no. Sorry,” she mumbled.

“I was asking you to please explain to the class the
definition of assault.”

Flustered, she forgot everything she had studied the
day before. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment: first, because
she could not remember the answer to the question and second,
because she knew enough about assault to know that even angry, she
wouldn’t mind being assaulted by Professor Hottie. She could not
get one word out. Jill was completely and utterly speechless. “Ms.
Stone, if you’re not interested in this class, I suggest you grab
your things, head to administration, explain to them that criminal
law is unimportant for your law school education, and ask to be
transferred. Perhaps they can substitute it for something easier
for you to grasp like, I don’t know, home economics.” He was
speaking loudly, his palms on his desk in the front of the class,
and he was leaning towards her. He continued his rant, but instead
of looking straight at Jill, he turned and faced the rest of the
class, scowling.

He went on and on, but she stopped listening because
all she could hear was ringing in her ears from the blood that was
rushing to her head. How did this day go from great to horrible in
less than five minutes?

“. . . so can someone help Ms. Stone with this easy
question?”

Only one person raised his hand since everyone was
terrified of Professor Meanie Pants.

“Yes, Mr. Jacobs?”

Alexander answered the question as if he was reading
it right out of the text book. He was leaning back on his seat with
his arms behind his head, and legs stretched out and crossed at the
ankle: very nonchalant, very cocky, very Alexander. When he
finished with his answer, he looked straight at Jillian. He was
gloating.
Shit! He had studied. Why does he always make me feel
like the evil witch?

Jill turned to her computer screen, found his
instant message handle to see if he was logged on. He was.
Immediately she typed:

Nerd.

He laughed out loud, causing most of the class to
look at him, including Professor Meanie. “Everything okay, Mr.
Jacobs? Just because you answered one question correctly doesn’t
give you free rein to disrupt my class. I suggest you get that
arrogant smirk off your face. One correct answer does not an
attorney make. Perhaps you should join Ms. Stone in Home
Economics?”

“I apologize,” he said while simultaneously typing
on Jill’s handle:

I would love to join you in Home Ec. Will u be
wearing a sexy apron?

Jill: Shut up and pay attention. He’s on a war
path.

Jill spent the rest of the class, ferociously typing
notes from the lecture. At the end of the class, she gathered her
things to leave, but Black stopped her and asked to see her in his
office after her last class. He looked angry, and as she walked out
of class and towards Contracts, she couldn’t help biting her lower
lip in worry.

The rest of the day didn’t go as bad for her, but
the professors had definitely toughened up their acts. What had
happened to her in Criminal Law happened to other students in some
of the other classes. The professors were just plain nasty today:
mean, hurtful, and tough. They weren’t exactly a walk in the park
the previous week, but they weren’t a walk in hell either. Before
she shut down her computer at the end of her last class, Alexander
sent her an instant message:

Good luck, Red. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him get
to you. If you need help with Crim Law just let me know.

Jill replied:

Thanks Xander, I appreciate it. I’m nervous. I hope
he doesn’t give me a big fat F in the class. TTYL

Her heart was racing when she knocked on Professor
Not-So-Hot-Because-He’s-An-Asshole’s door. “Come in, Jillian.” How
did he know it was her, she wondered?

“Um, y-you wanted to see me?” Wow, he was gorgeous.
She couldn’t formulate a cohesive sentence if her life depended on
it. He was so nice to her that first day. He probably didn’t even
remember about the locker advice.

“Did you rent that locker?”
Okay, so he did
remember.

“Y-yes. Thank you,” she said, looking down still
biting her lower lip. He made her nervous.

“Look at me when I speak to you, Jillian.” His tone
startled her, and she immediately looked up and into his dark eyes.
He didn’t have his glasses on, and she could see his eyes clearly.
His intense stare took her breath away. Normally, she didn’t care
for men telling her what to do, but with Black, she was caught in
his trance. At that moment, she would have done anything he asked.
When they were standing eye to eye, he said, “Good, I’m glad that
the locker is working out. You looked overwhelmed last week.” He
smiled from ear to ear, causing the corner of his big brown eyes to
crinkle. Then there was silence. He was sitting at his chair, right
ankle over left knee. His arms crossed in front of his chest,
completely in control and intimidating while looking at her
intently from top to bottom with a smirk. It was suddenly very warm
in his office.

“Um, Professor Black, you wanted to speak with me
about something?”

“Yes. I just did.”

“Oh, well, th-thank you again for the t-tip. My arms
wouldn’t have made it through an entire semester, hauling all those
books around.” She smiled nervously. This was weird. He wanted to
talk about her locker?