This Much Is True (12 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Linc~ Soul taken

C
harlie guns his Jeep and we roar out of the driveway. Eventually, he looks over at me with a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. Gina’s still crazy about Marla, but it’s more complicated than that.” He looks uneasy. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

With that, he shifts the Jeep into high gear, and we speed toward the freeway without exchanging another word. We are both brooding over girl trouble but neither one of us are willing to talk about it. Instead, we focus on finding a grocery store.

Tired, pissed, out of my normal span of control, I sink further down into the passenger seat and pull the front of my baseball cap over my face and shield my eyes from Charlie’s close inspection. I’ve become somewhat resigned to the fact that Charlie isn’t going to help me locate this mystery girl, if only to read her the riot act for lying to me about her age. No. Charlie is being evasive about this ex-girlfriend Marla for some other reason. While driving around Palo Alto’s various strip malls in search of cherry pie, I bring up the taboo topic of Marla twice and both times Charlie effectively shuts me down.

“What’s with you and this girl Marla?” I ask for a third time now.

“She’s everything, and that’s the fucking problem.” Charlie hesitates and seems to stall for time. He takes a deep breath and parks the Jeep at some foodie place off Middlefield Road and stomps toward the entrance without a backward glance at me. I eventually follow.

The girl in the bakery is more than happy to sell the pies to us. She knows Charlie and even seems to recognize me, although I haven’t set foot in Palo Alto High School in five years. I basically ignore the bakery girl because I’m caught in the riptide of gloom in thinking about Holly again. I note Charlie picks up the slack and flirts with the bakery girl.
Stacy.
She’d introduced herself to me and held my hand for five seconds too long. I’d mumbled, “Nice to meet you.” I still don’t regret the insincerity that was so distinct in my tone.
Who gives a shit?
I have a thank-you note from a minor to show for my charm and effort and scoring ability in the hook-up department. The last thing I need is another local girl—from a bakery, no less—who clearly wants my number and some of my time and attention and probably even more than that.
More.

All I still see in my mind is Holly’s face, even though I already know I should be focused upon someone far less complicated. I need to stick with girls who are less intense and don’t leave me reeling this way over a damn thank-you note the next day. I don’t need a girl who’s left me without any way of getting in touch with her again.

Maybe I just want the chance to tell her off. I need to stay focused on empty selfish girls. Girls, like Nika, the brilliant Russian girl in my stats class from last year. She’s smart and wicked and fun. Nika doesn’t need to be entertained. Hell, we don’t even date. We hook up occasionally when it’s not baseball season. She’s gone to my games. Usually she brings some guy along with her. I’ve seen her. She waves. I wave back. The emotional connection between us is non-existent. Nika does what she wants. I do what I want. I throw a baseball at least six months out of the year, and most girls don’t like to put up with that kind of dedication in the long run, but Nika seems to get that. Understand it. Accept it. She doesn’t demand anything from me. I don’t demand or expect anything of her. That’s the way it works. And it
does
work. That’s the kind of girl I need to be seeing, not these Holly’s of the world, who blow through and cause me to lose all my concentration.

I dial Nika’s cell number. It goes straight to voice mail. I hang up without leaving a message, already knowing she’ll call or text me back within the hour or so. That’s the way Nika is—predictable, smart, wicked, and fun. Nika is easy, not complicated, like Holly, who’s managed to fuck with me mind, body, and soul.
Shit.
My cell phone buzzes. Nika’s sent a text.
“See you at the game.”
Momentary relief courses through me.
Concentrate on Nika.
Yet I still envision Holly’s face.

For needed distraction, I glance over at Charlie. He’s busy asking this Stacy about people the two of them know at Paly. He seems to have worked his way up to the topic of Marla. He kind of frowns when he says Marla’s name and seems to hold his breath at the same time.

I know that out-of-control, out-of-depth feeling.
The girl doesn’t seem fooled by his questioning. She gets this secret smile. Her brown eyes glint a little as she takes in all of Charlie, and her glance strays to his mid-section where it remains as she blatantly stares. Jesus, she’s checking him out right here in the store like I’m not even five feet away. I turn away in disgust, but vague curiosity has me turning back around a few minutes later as their conversation filters my way.

“She was gone all summer. She and Tally. New York? They did pretty well. I’m sure she told you that.” Stacy eyes him warily, making it obvious whose side she came down on over Marla and Charlie’s apparent break-up. “She has a boyfriend back East, you know.” She glances over at me and smiles and then turns her attention back to Charlie, who doesn’t quite hide the jealous rage that travels across his face. His eyes narrow, and he stares hard at Stacy. “Devon something,” she says. Her eyes dart back-and-forth between me and Charlie. “He’s some big Wall Street hotshot.”

Charlie seems to do his best to hide his surprise, but I know he’s agitated because he bites at his lower lip. He slowly nods and then tries to smile. He glances over at me with this look of misery apparently in search of some help with Stacy. I subtly nod at him, but I’m not too sure what he wants me to do or say.

“Right. Devon. She mentioned him,” Charlie says abruptly.

“Uh-huh. Well, things have been a little down around school since her twin was killed in that weird car accident in the middle of March. Poor Rob Thorn. They’d been going out—hot and heavy. For what? Like two years? And then she up and dies. It’s so sad.”

“Wait,” Charlie says and suddenly grabs Stacy’s hand. “What?”

“Tally’s twin. You remember her, don’t you?” she asks, incredulous, and then shakes her head in disbelief.

“Of course, I remember…” Charlie mutters.

He briefly closes his eyes and seems to be experiencing this kind of shock. Then, he anxiously glances over at me to see if I’d heard what Stacy just said. I stare at him hard having missed most of the conversation and slowly shake my head.

“Yeah,” she says, leaning into Charlie.

I have to strain to hear her now.

“Rumor has it that the mom has basically flipped out. At school, Tally seems okay. I mean she was always the rebel, but now she just seems kind of lost. It’s just so sad. Anyway, Marla has her hands full with all of that, and those two are intent on getting back to New York as soon as they can. They leave in something like a week after graduation.” She glances up at Charlie with renewed interest. “But you know ballet is all those two care about.” Stacy gazes at Charlie and licks her lips in this obvious
I’m-up-for-it
way.

Charlie seems dazed by Stacy’s sudden interest and apparent about-face in terms of her loyalty to Marla. He vaguely follows her hand movements and barely smiles when she fingers his rolled-up shirt sleeves and touches his chest in a none-too-subtle, provocative way. Her message is obvious to both of us:
I’m here; I’m available. Pick me.

“Whoa.” Charlie finally says, shaking his head and stepping back away from Stacy. “Yeah, well, we’re working on it—getting back together; I mean,” he says to Stacy quietly.

I try to smile, not actually able to put together the whole conversation since I don’t know all these people, but I’m intent on asking Charlie about it as soon as we reach the car. I’ve only heard parts of the conversation so it doesn’t make any sense to me, but I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I look at Charlie’s face. He’s upset about something from their conversation.

“Really? Even with this Devon from New York on the scene?” Stacy asks, looking a little deflated by Charlie’s pronouncement. She frowns. “You and Marla again? Can Silicon Valley handle those kind of explosive fireworks?”

“Funny,” Charlie says with indifference. “Come on, Linc. Let’s go. See you around, Stacy.”

* * *

Charlie backs the jeep out of the parking lot and floors it for about ten blocks and then hastily parks the car in an empty parking lot and gets out. He runs through this open field at a high rate of speed all the way to other side, as if he is outrunning someone or something before he turns back and slowly makes his way back to the car.

I get out and make my way over to him. We meet up mid-field.

He’s crying.
Not softly.
Hard.
The tears just stream down his face like he’s been shaken to the core of his being.

“What the hell is going on?” I grip his forearm, but he angrily shakes it off. He wipes at his eyes and shields his face from me, so I won’t see. He’s inconsolable. I’m almost afraid to know why.

“I need a minute.” He gasps for breath. “Maybe a year.” He clutches at his stomach, doubles over, and vomits the chips from earlier.

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“She’s dead. Holly Landon. She’s dead.” He starts crying again and then rubs at his face in frustration. “Why didn’t my mom tell me? Why doesn’t anybody ever tell me anything important that happens in this fucking town?”

“Who’s Holly Landon?” I ask dully, already knowing somehow this is connected to the girl that I know as Holly.

“She was this angel I dated in high school once. God, the whole reason I took up with Marla was to make Holly Landon jealous. You know how it goes—the one person you care about is the one you hurt the most.”

I slump down on the hard ground and grasp my arms around my knees in an attempt to put it all together.
Lay the Landon girl because she fucking needs it.
The sick feeling resurfaces because somehow I
know
this story. Charlie joins me after a few minutes.

“I’m sorry. About Holly.” I lie down on my back, clasp my hands around my head, and stare at the blue sky overhead, unseeing. The persistent sick feeling from earlier returns. Charlie lies on his back next to me, mimicking my movements. I look over at him when I hear him taking these deep shuddering breaths. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I loved her, man. I never told her.”

“Holly.”

“Yeah. Holly Landon.”

“Ah, shit.” I take my time in an attempt to formulate the story just right. I take an unsteady breath and start to talk. “Remember that freak car accident? I told you about it. I’d just finished baseball practice. I was driving back along the 101 in February. Valentine’s Day. I rescued a girl from a burning car. That girl? She’s the same girl I was with at your party last night. I wanted to know her name. I wanted to know her because I haven’t stopped thinking about her since that day. She didn’t even remember me—carrying her, running away with her—from that accident. Some weird twisted part of God’s plan had us hooking up at your party last night. The night of that accident, I went to the hospital—three hospitals,
actually—
before I found the right one where they’d taken her after a black SUV collided with an old Mercedes on the 101 head-on. The car caught fire. It was raining. The girl’s sister died at the scene.” I stop and let it all sink in. He makes the connection in the next ten seconds.

“Holly.” There’s so much despair in his voice that it slams into me, and I jerk back in response.

I sigh deep. “So, you think the girl from your party is actually her sister, right?

“Right. Her twin.”

“But do you know for sure?” I’m suddenly desperate for a different answer. “I mean
for sure
. That it’s the same set of twins—”

Charlie turns and stares at me. His face is one of total devastation. “I thought I
saw
Holly Landon at my party last night. They’re
twins
.
Identical
. It wasn’t Holly. It was
Tally
.”

“Tally.” I roll the name over my tongue, hoping it isn’t true. “Twins change places all the time.” My voice shakes.

This can’t be true, even though I already know it is.

“This isn’t twins changing places, Prez. This is
her
lying to you, fucking with you. Don’t you get it? Holly’s dead. Holly Landon is dead. They used to pull that shit all the time in high school. They were identical. They could fool all of us, even Marla, pretending to be the other. They’re as different as night and day. Holly…was the nice one. Tally? Not so much. Sorry.” He winces at my sudden scowl. “Holly’s dead,” he says slowly and closes his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”

I wonder if he feels if he says it enough that some part of his mind will actually believe it. “I was at the accident where this girl—the one from the accident and the one I met at your party—laid in my arms. She had to listen to her sister’s screams in that fiery crash until they weren’t there anymore. It was…bad.”

“Holly.” Charlie’s voice breaks. He starts to cry again.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

After another fifteen minutes, the real world invades. His mom calls wondering where her pies are. We trudge back to the Jeep in silence. On our way back, Charlie shakes his head at me and then pretends to concentrate fully on the road. After a few minutes, he takes an unsteady breath and blows it out with a heavy sigh. “If Tally Landon is your mystery girl, I’m just telling you that you’re screwed, and I thought I had it rough.”

“Why would you say that?” I get even more anxious at the look of despair on Charlie’s face.

He frowns. “Tally Landon is one of the up-and-coming ballet dancers in the world. She’s got a shot at the big time with her ballet. She’s always been a bit of a rebel, slept with half the guys at Paly, by the time she was a sophomore.” I wince at his graphic portrayal of her. “Sorry.” Charlie shakes his head side-to-side and takes another shuddering breath. “But she’s not the kind of girl you could actually fuck around with. No pun intended.” Charlie looks worried and his obvious concern transfers to me like an infusion of some kind. “She’s incredibly beautiful, incredibly smart, and incredibly talented—but elusive. She’s someone you’d never really get to know. I don’t know how to explain it better than that. Her father is this brilliant surgeon. They live in Atherton.”

“
This
coming from a guy whose dad and
my uncle
is a venture capitalist,” I say dryly and then attempt to laugh when Charlie winces.

“The Landons do just fine, believe me. I knew Tally from school through Marla, but she didn’t give any of us the time of day. She was solely focused on ballet and would hook up with guys willing to go into the ring with her. It’s not that she’s bad news,
Prez
; just trust me when I say that Tally Landon is
way
out of your league.”