Читать книгу Vicious - Kevin O'Brien - Страница 12

“You guys just want to see me naked,” Moira Dancey said.

Jordan Prewitt and Leo Forester stood by the kitchen door, each with a rolled-up bath towel under his arm. Jordan had a flashlight. It was already dark outside, starting to get chilly; they both wore fall jackets over their street clothes. Yet they were ready to hike through the woods so they could sit naked in some secluded hot spring.

Leo rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. “Jeez, full of yourself much?” he said. “I don’t want to see you naked. I want to see Jordan naked. We just need you for a chaperone—so things don’t get too Brokeback Mountain.”

“You wish,” Jordan said, bumping his shoulder against Leo’s.

The buffed, handsome lacrosse player and his lean, gangly best buddy made an odd-looking duo. But they’d been best friends for six years. “It’s weird to think,” Leo had mentioned in the car on the way up from Seattle. “Jordan and I have known each other B.P.H. That’s before pubic hair.”

“And we’re all still waiting for Leo to grow some,” Jordan had chimed in from the driver’s seat, never taking his eyes off the road.

“Stop, stop, please,” Leo had rejoined in a deadpan tone. “My sides are aching. You’re so hysterical. I think I just ruptured my spleen from laughing.”

Riding alone in the backseat of the Honda Civic, Moira had felt a bit like an outsider with the two of them. She was Leo’s friend. He and Jordan went to Garfield High School, and she attended Holy Names Academy, an all-girls Catholic school. A year ago, her mother and Leo’s mother had fixed them up at a Sadie Hawkins dance—or the Sadie Hawkins Disaster, as they now referred to it. Mrs. Dancey had been really pushing for the date, because most of the guys Moira hung out with were a bit dangerous. Mrs. Dancey described them as “hoody.” Her mother needn’t have worried too much. Moira was still a virgin—technically. She never let it get too far with any of those guys, but sometimes, she felt like she was pushing the envelope—and her luck. One of her friends said she was a “virgin on the verge.” Moira wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about that label, but it didn’t make her happy.

Unlike the guys who usually turned her head, Leo was safe—and nice. His dad had been killed in Iraq, and Leo worked nights, busing tables at Broadmoor Estates Country Club to help his mom with the finances. He also had a kid sister he helped care for. How much nicer could a guy get?

Moira and Leo had a horrible time at the dance, probably because she was—admittedly—a jerk to him for the first two hours. She’d made up her mind not to like this guy her mother was forcing her to go out with. But afterward he’d taken her to the Deluxe Restaurant, and during their one-on-one time together over burgers, she realized he was funny and sweet and genuine. He even had an offbeat kind of cuteness. But she just wasn’t that attracted to him.

Leo later said he’d caught on to her lack of passion when he’d tried to kiss her good night on that first date. Moira had let him kiss her on the lips, but she’d kept her mouth closed and punctuated the kiss with a mwah afterward. “You gave me the mwah. That’s the way my aunt Sonja kisses,” Leo had later told her.

Moira liked him—just not that way. So they were good friends—with a little something extra, that something extra being his slight crush on her. He was always there for her. As long as Leo was around, Moira had a date for every dance or social occasion that came up. She still had an occasional date with some other guy, but never anything serious.

She’d met Jordan four times—always with Leo, of course. She thought he was very handsome and sexy, but the less Leo knew about that, the better. So she did her damnedest to conceal her attraction to this brooding, sensitive jock.

She wasn’t sure how Jordan felt about her. Earlier, when they’d stopped at that ma-and-pa grocery store down the road, he’d shown a lot more interest in that pretty brunette woman with the little boy than he had in her throughout the entire drive up from Seattle.

The Prewitts’ Cullen retreat was a brown-shingle, two-story cabin—quaint and rustic looking on the outside. But inside she found a gracious living room with a big stone fireplace. The kitchen was wallpapered with a tacky design that must have been called Spice Rack, because it had olive and brown-tone renderings of spices and jars—sage, oregano, rosemary, pepper, and thyme. The matching avocado oven and refrigerator were kind of ugly, but she liked the lime-colored dinette set from the fifties.

There was a basement. Moira had peeked at it from the top of the cellar steps of the kitchen when Jordan had given her a tour. It was cluttered with junk—and creepy. Throughout the tour, Jordan had occasionally touched her arm, and Moira had liked that.

Right now he was standing by the back door, giving her a guileless smile. “If you want, while you get undressed, we’ll close our eyes until you’re in the hot spring. Plus—it’s pretty dark out there anyway, Moira. You shouldn’t miss this experience. Some people drive half a day to get to a hot springs, and this is a ten-minute walk for us.”

“C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure?” Leo asked.

One hand on the kitchen counter, the other on her hip, Moira frowned at her friend. “I’m sorry, but this reminds me too much of that Friday night last month when we were alone and you kept challenging me to a game of strip poker.” She turned to Jordan. “Did he tell you about that?”

Nodding, Jordan laughed. “You can’t blame the guy for trying.”

“Hey, I just wanted to hone my card-playing skills for a possible appearance on Celebrity Poker,” Leo said. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Moira sighed. “Yeah, well, you guys go have fun. I can’t get too excited over the prospect of traipsing through those creepy woods so I can sit bare-assed in some muddy water. I don’t care how warm the water is.”

“Okay,” Jordan said. “Make yourself at home. We should be back in about an hour, and then I’ll fire up the barbecue.”

“Yeah, let’s get traipsing,” Leo said, opening the screen door. “I didn’t want to see her naked anyway. Did you want to see her naked?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” Jordan allowed, and then he winked at her.

Moira felt herself blushing. “Oh, I know who you wouldn’t mind taking to the hot spring and seeing naked, Jordan,” she said, teasingly. “That pretty lady at the grocery store you were talking to earlier. I think you were flirting with her. You must have a thing for older women. Maybe it’s some kind of mother complex or some—” Moira stopped herself when she realized what she’d just said.

The smile seemed to freeze on Jordan’s face. He let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

“C’mon, let’s get cracking,” Leo announced, pushing his friend out the door. “You can analyze Jordan later, Moira.”

“See ya!” Moira called. “Have fun!” She jumped a bit when Leo let the screen door slam shut behind them. She felt like an utter moron, bringing up the subject of mothers to Jordan—and in such an idiotic way, too. Leo had told her ages ago that Jordan’s mother died in a car accident when he was eight.

“Nice going, Moira,” she muttered to herself. “That was real charming.” Rubbing her forehead, she turned toward the refrigerator.

She heard the screen door yawn open behind her, and she turned around.

Leo stepped into the kitchen. “Why did you bring up his mother?” he whispered. “Jordan’s crying. You made him cry.”

“Oh, no,” Moira murmured, a hand on her heart. “I’m so sorry—”

Leo broke into a grin. “Relax, I’m screwing around with you. He’s fine.”

She slapped him on the shoulder. “You shit.”

“I told him I wanted to come back for some water.” Leo opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Smartwater. He stopped and looked her in the eye. “You like him, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You always get tongue-tied or say something stupid in front of guys you’re interested in,” Leo explained. “And what you said to him just now was pretty stupid. Don’t worry, he’s cool. He didn’t notice. But I did. That’s why I came back. I knew you were in here, kicking yourself.” He hesitated at the kitchen door. “So—do you like Jordan? I mean, I want you to like him, but are you interested in him?”

She shrugged uneasily. “I think he’s nice, that’s all.” Moira knew it would kill Leo if she said yes.

He gave her a wary sidelong glance. “Are you sorry you came?”

“Of course not, this is fun.” She worked up a smile and patted Leo’s arm. “You guys do your hot-spring thing. I’m going to finish unpacking and maybe have a civilized bath.”

Leo threw her a crooked smile. “See ya in a bit, Moira.” Then he let the screen door slam shut behind him as he headed back outside.

Moira wandered over to the door and gazed out past the screen. Off to the side in the small backyard was a flagstone patio with a barbecue pit, a picnic table, and two deck chairs. The woods lay beyond that. She watched Leo and Jordan head for a break in the trees—obviously the trail to the hot spring.

They disappeared in the darkness past that first row of trees.

From behind some bushes alongside the cabin, he watched the two young men forge into the woods with bath towels tucked under their arms. Then he peered through the kitchen window at the girl. She was a tall, willowy thing with a short pixie-style haircut. She looked very fetching in those tight jeans and the long-sleeved white T-shirt. She seemed like the type who came from money, read books, and got straight A’s at school.

He imagined the public outcry when a girl of her pedigree suddenly vanished. With her slim figure, she would be a radical change from the pleasantly plump Wendy and the mannish Monica. She was younger and prettier than them, too. Maybe he’d even keep her alive for a while—something to amuse him after he finished off Susan.

Watching her in profile at the kitchen door, he wondered if she knew what she was doing. The girl seemed unconscious of it. As if in a trance, she ran a hand down her neck, then her T-shirt, and over her breasts. Budding teenage sexuality, he thought, licking his lips.

He only had to wait a little longer—until the boys were farther along in the woods. Then he’d make his move. They just had to be a bit farther away.

He didn’t want them to hear her screams.

With a sigh, Moira stepped away from the screen door. She grabbed a Smartwater out of the refrigerator and retreated upstairs. The guys had her staying in the master bedroom—very cozy with a slanted ceiling, a four-poster queen bed, and a potbellied stove. The large window looked out at the forest and a long, private driveway to the cabin. Jordan and Leo would share a cramped loft space with a futon down the hall. They had a window, too—a little porthole, like something in the steerage section of a ship. Moira felt a bit guilty scoring the better accommodations, but Jordan and Leo had insisted.

She bypassed her bedroom and checked out their sleeping quarters off the hallway. Jordan had changed out of the black T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Now it was draped over the loft-space railing—just off the hallway. Moira couldn’t resist pulling it down from the banister. His scent was on it—a musky smell mixed with a subtle, spicy cologne fragrance. She put the shirt to her face and breathed it in.

“Oh, what the hell,” she murmured. Moira pulled her long-sleeved top over her head, took off her bra, and then donned Jordan’s shirt. His bare skin had been against this same, thin, soft material. Her whole body tingled. She started to unzip her jeans. She wanted to be naked—except for his T-shirt.

That was when she heard a noise outside. It sounded like something had bumped against the side of the cabin.

Alarmed, Moira quickly fastened up the front of her jeans, then headed up the hallway to her bedroom. She gazed out the big window, but it was so dark outside, she couldn’t see anything except her own reflection.

Moving close to the window, her breath fogged the glass. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered outside. Directly below, she noticed a patch of light and her own shadow on the dirt ground in front of the house. It was so dark out there she couldn’t see much else beyond the first row of trees on the other side of the driveway. “Probably just a raccoon or something,” she muttered to herself.

Backing away from the window, she caught her reflection again. She looked like an idiot in Jordan’s oversized T-shirt. What the hell was wrong with her?

Moira shuffled back down the hall toward the loft area. Pulling off Jordan’s T-shirt, she carefully draped it on the railing—exactly where it had been. Then she put her bra and top back on. Returning to the master bedroom, she started to unpack her overnight bag.

She wished she hadn’t come here. This weekend getaway had been Leo’s brainchild. His eighteenth birthday was tomorrow. She and Jordan had asked him—separately—what he wanted to do to celebrate the occasion. He’d proposed a mini vacation with his two best friends at Jordan’s family cabin. Apparently, the Prewitts sometimes rented out the place, and Jordan had to get the okay from some local leasing company so they could use the cabin this weekend. Leo had been here only twice before.

Moira didn’t know if either of those previous visits had included a skinny-dip in the hot spring, but maybe that was one reason Leo had wanted her along on this trip. In addition to his lame-o strip poker proposition a few weeks ago, earlier this summer on a particularly sultry evening, he’d suggested they go skinny-dipping in Lake Washington—at a spot near Madison Park Beach. “Do you know the meaning of fat chance?” she’d replied.

Yet a part of her had wanted to go along with them to the hot spring tonight. She imagined being naked in that warm spring with Jordan right now—after a scary, exciting trek through those dark woods. She imagined his muscular leg accidentally brushing against hers under the water.

Of course, Leo would be there, too—so that would have put a damper on things. Still, as much as Leo’s clumsy overtures annoyed her, she was flattered, too. She cherished Leo and didn’t want to lose that friendship.

Moira unpacked a pharmacy container of sleeping pills her doctor had prescribed. It seemed like all her friends were on some kind of medication or another—for their weight, ADHD, or depression. Moira’s problem was that she’d go to bed and think about school and her grades and college, and then she’d stare at the ceiling all night. The pills helped, but she was trying not to get too dependent on them.

Moira stashed the prescription bottle in the bureau drawer along with her socks. She didn’t want Jordan seeing it and figuring out just how neurotic she was.

She suddenly realized no one except Leo and Jordan knew where she was right now. What if something were to happen to them—or her?

Her parents had gone to Scottsdale to visit her sister. Moira’s older brother and sister had already moved away and gotten married by the time she started high school. One advantage to being the youngest was that her parents had mellowed with age and allowed her a lot of independence. So leaving her alone in the house for a week was no huge deal.

On her own, Moira had engaged in the usual Risky Business behavior—dancing around the house in her underwear, doing her homework while sipping Chivas Regal from her dad’s liquor cabinet, and masturbating a lot. Still, she’d been nervous about sleeping alone in the house, and, twice, she’d gotten Leo to stay overnight in the guest room.

He’d come up with plans for this sojourn two weeks ago. Moira had told her parents she’d spend this weekend at a girlfriend’s house. She’d said they could get ahold of her on her cell. She hadn’t known then that cell phones didn’t work around here. She’d call them from the pay phone at that grocery store tomorrow. She didn’t want them to worry.

Moira was just putting away the last of her things when she heard another noise outside. She went to the bedroom window again, cupped her hands against the pane, and peered out. She didn’t see anyone. It was pitch black after that first cluster of trees on the edge of the woods.

She was a city girl. She wasn’t used to all this darkness and quiet. She’d never felt so alone in all her life.

Downstairs, the screen door slammed in the kitchen.

It gave her a start. “Leo? Jordan?” she called, stepping out to the narrow hallway. “Is that you, guys?”

No answer.

Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all.

It was too soon for them to be back from the hot spring already. They’d left only a half hour ago.

She crept to the top of the stairs and glanced down. She could see only part of the living room and a bit of the kitchen. Moira wasn’t sure, but she thought she noticed a shadow sweep across that Spice Rack–patterned wall in the kitchen. A chill raced through her.

“Guys?” she called again, her voice quivering. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing. “Dave? Dave, I think I hear someone downstairs….” She felt a bit stupid, but if someone had broken in, she didn’t want them thinking she was alone. “Dave, maybe you should check it out….”

Moira paused, but still didn’t hear any movement down there.

Retreating to the bedroom, she grabbed her cell phone off the bureau, but then she realized it was useless. Who would she have called anyway? The police? She wasn’t positive she had an intruder, not yet.

Glancing around the bedroom, Moira spotted a fireplace set attached to the potbellied stove. She grabbed the poker and tiptoed back to the top of the stairs again. She saw the shadow flutter across the kitchen wall once more. It wasn’t just her imagination.

Slowly, Moira crept down the stairs, the poker clutched in her fist. She winced every time a step creaked. If this was Leo and Jordan playing some kind of joke on her, she’d kill them. This wasn’t funny, not one bit.

Her heart racing, she hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. At last, she peeked around the corner into the kitchen. She noticed a couple of moths fluttering near the ceiling light. Moira turned and studied their shadows on the Spice Rack wall. She let out a tiny laugh.

But she couldn’t quite relax, not just yet. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty living room. With the poker still ready, she ventured back into the kitchen and gazed out the screen door. She didn’t see anyone. But a candy wrapper drifted across the back stoop. Moira squinted at it: a Three Musketeers wrapper.

Stepping back, she closed the kitchen door and locked it. That was when she noticed the dirt footprints on the kitchen floor. Were they there before? Or had someone just made them a few minutes ago—when he’d come in from those woods?

She tried to determine where the footprints were headed, but the dirt marks faded in the middle of the kitchen—about halfway to the basement door, which was open.

That door had been closed earlier; Moira was almost certain of it.

“Shit,” she whispered. Paralyzed, she stared at the darkness beyond the open doorway and those first few steps down. The poker shook in her sweaty, trembling hand.

Moira’s breathing grew heavier as she started toward the cellar stairs. She didn’t see a light switch near the basement door, so she reached past the doorway and felt around for a switch on the wall. She found it and turned on the light. “Who’s down there?” she demanded.

Slowly she descended the stairs, but only a few steps. The place was unfinished and dirty—with cobwebs between exposed pipes running along the ceiling. There was a dust- and lint-covered washer and dryer, and a laundry sink. Garden equipment, collapsed folding patio chairs, a big, blue plastic kiddy pool, and two bicycles that looked broken leaned against one wall. There was a workbench, cluttered with tools, and a couple of old paint cans. In the corner, where a ceiling light was out, stood the furnace and a hot-water tank. She couldn’t tell if anyone was hiding back there or not. She noticed another door, which was closed. It looked like it might be a closet or a storage room. She didn’t want to go down any farther and check.

Suddenly, she heard a noise above her. The floorboards were creaking. Moira glanced up and saw a shadow move across the cellar doorway. She told herself it was probably those damn moths again—but she couldn’t be sure. If it was an intruder, he could switch off the light down here. Any moment now, she could be helpless, swallowed up in darkness.

Upstairs, a door shut, and Moira jumped. It was too far away to be the kitchen door. “Who’s up there?” she yelled.

No response. But there was more noise. It sounded like they were closer.

Biting her lip, she remained frozen on the stairs. “Goddamn it, who’s up there?”

Someone started pounding on the back door. Moira recoiled at the sound. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered, tightly clutching the fireplace poker.

She heard the doorknob rattling, and then a muted voice: “Moira! Moira, are you in there?”

It sounded like Jordan. Catching her breath, she raced back up the stairs and saw him on the other side of the window in the kitchen door. He and Leo were wet and shirtless. Leo slouched against his friend as if he were half dead. Jordan pounded on the door again. “Moira, c’mon, let us in!”

She hurried to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open. “My God, what happened?”

“He needs some juice,” Jordan said. Helping Leo into the kitchen, he left their shirts and the bath towels in a heap on the back stoop. “C’mon, buddy.” He sat Leo down at the kitchen table.

Leo appeared dazed. He struggled to talk, but no words came out.

Moira set the poker on the counter and then ran to the refrigerator. Pulling out a carton of orange juice, she opened it and took it to Leo. But he was in too much of a stupor to reach for it. Jordan grabbed the carton instead. “Thanks,” he said. Sitting down next to his friend, he put the open end of the juice container to Leo’s mouth. “C’mon, drink this….”

Moira hovered over them, uncertain what to do. She knew about Leo’s diabetes, but had never been with him when he’d had an episode. She watched the orange juice spill past Leo’s lips and run down his neck to his bare chest. He was shaking.

“Swallow it, buddy, c’mon.” Jordan tipped his friend’s head back and tried to pour the juice down his throat. “Damn, we should have eaten first,” he grumbled. “I wasn’t thinking about his sugar levels. We just got into the spring, and he started to feel woozy….”

Leo started choking and coughing. Jordan got sprayed in the face with some orange juice. He pulled back the carton for a moment. “Okay, ready to take some?” he asked. As soon as Leo stopped coughing, Jordan put the orange juice carton to his lips again.

Leo drank, and his hands eventually came up over Jordan’s. “Atta boy,” Jordan whispered.

Moira fetched a dish towel and wetted one end. She held it to Leo’s forehead for a moment, then dabbed at the spilt orange juice on his chin, neck, chest, and torso. He stopped drinking for a moment. “Thanks,” he gasped. He tried to smile. “Jesus, this is embarrassing.”

“Hey, compared to your attempt at the Macarena at the homecoming dance, this is nothing,” Moira replied, trying to smile.

Leo started to laugh.

“Keep drinking,” Jordan told him. He patted Leo’s shoulder and then stood up.

Moira turned to him. “You got some orange juice on you, too,” she said, dabbing at his face with the dish towel.

“Thanks,” Jordan said, smiling at her. “I got it.” He took the dish towel from her and kissed her hand. Then he wiped off his face.

Unconsciously, Moira touched her hand where he’d kissed it. She noticed Jordan’s lean, muscular physique—and realized his pants were still unfastened in front. He must have put them on in a hurry. She could see a trail of black hair moving down from his navel. He still had a tan line.

Leo cleared his throat.

Moira turned to find him glaring up at her. It was obvious he knew what she was feeling for his friend. He’d stopped drinking and took several long, labored breaths. All the while, he kept staring at her—wounded and disappointed.

Jordan was oblivious. He mussed Leo’s hair. “Well, you know the diabetic drill, stay put for a while and have a little more juice. I’m going to get cleaned up.”

Moira didn’t dare look at him as he started to walk away. She couldn’t look at Leo either. She glanced down at the floor—and the different patterns of dirty footprints on the kitchen tiles. The ones she’d noticed earlier were lost amid the others now.

On his way out of the kitchen, Jordan hesitated and turned to Moira. “What were you doing with the poker?”

Moira shrugged. “Nothing,” she said. “It was nothing.”

As he raced through the woods in front of the Prewitts’ cabin, he couldn’t help chuckling. He’d come so close. He’d had her trapped in the basement when he’d heard Jordan’s voice in the backyard: “C’mon, Leo, hang in there….”

Five minutes later, and those boys would have come home to an empty house.

Maybe he should have been angry that his plans were thwarted. But it was kind of exciting almost getting caught. He’d made his escape—out the front door—with mere seconds to spare.

He slowed down and got his breath back. No one was chasing him. No one had seen him.

The girl must have not said anything to her friends. Perhaps right now, she was chalking up her terrible fright to being a stranger in a strange house. Maybe she was telling herself that the sounds she’d heard were the cabin settling or a raccoon outside one of the windows. People thought up all kinds of explanations to avoid thinking the unthinkable.

Tonight had whetted his appetite for Moira. He had to have her now. She’d be alone again soon enough, and he’d get another chance at her.

Deep in the forest now, he listened to his own breathing—and twigs snapping under his feet. The car was parked on a nearby trail.

He hadn’t forgotten about Susan Blanchette. In fact, he was already thinking of a clever way to incorporate this girl into his grand plan for the weekend. He chuckled again when he considered it.

Killing two birds.