Chain Letter (45 page)

“Explain that I was only joking about Neil,” Alex insisted.

The sex secrets of Alex and Neil could have gone on another hour if Jimmy hadn’t interrupted.
He was not a big one for gossip.

“I don’t give a damn about Neil’s sex life,” Jimmy said. “But I do appreciate your
offer, Ted. If I get stuck for a place to stay, I’ll give you a call.”

“No problem,” Ted said, a note of relief in his voice. He reached in his pocket and
pulled out a card. “Here’s a fake ID if you plan to gamble.”

“Great.” Jimmy studied it. “This license looks real.”

“It’s not,” Ted warned. “Don’t use it at the MGM’s front desk to check in. It’ll fail
if it’s scanned. But don’t worry about gambling at the other hotels. I haven’t seen
them scan IDs on the casino floors.”

“How do you know?” Jimmy asked.

“He’s been to Vegas tons,” Alex said. “He’s a master card counter.”

“Wow.” Jimmy was impressed. “Is it hard to learn?”

Ted shrugged, although it was obvious he enjoyed the
attention. “It takes a good memory and hard work. But you don’t have to be a genius
to do it.”

“You should teach us all this weekend,” Debbie said, a bold comment coming from her.
Ted shrugged.

“I can teach you the basics. But it takes hours of practice to make money at it. And
the casinos keep changing the rules, making it harder to get an edge.”

“The bastards,” Alex muttered.

We reached Las Vegas before sunset so we weren’t treated to the famous colorful glow
suddenly rising out of the desert night. It was a curious phenomenon, I thought, but
during the day Las Vegas looked far from imposing. Just a bunch of gaudy buildings
sticking out of the sand. But I knew when night fell, the magic would emerge, and
the town would transform itself into one gigantic adult ride.

Alex drove straight to the MGM, where we checked in to our room, a decent-sized suite
with a view of the Strip and three separate bedrooms—plus a central living area that
came equipped not only with a sofa but a love seat. The price wasn’t bad, one hundred
and fifty bucks: fifty bucks when split three ways. Still, the weekend was ruining
my savings. The library was not exactly a high-paying place to work.

With the sofa and love seat, we had room for another two people. But Jimmy, damn him,
was too much of a gentleman to impose. He also seemed reluctant to take Ted up on
his offer. He tried his best to find his own room, using our hotel-room
phone to call several hotlines that supposedly could find you a suite on New Year’s
Eve. But it was all hype; it was Friday evening at the start of summer and Las Vegas
was bursting at the seams. Jimmy struck out.

“This couch is softer than my bed,” Alex said, sitting not far from where Jimmy had
just finished dialing. I was glad we had temporarily left Ted—who had gone off to
find his own room. Alex, it seemed, was determined that Jimmy stay with us.

“We settled the sleeping arrangements in the car,” Debbie said, studying the minibar.
Because it was filled with tiny bottles of liquor, and we had checked in to the room
using our real IDs, the bar should have been off-limits. But Ted had managed to bypass
the locking mechanism before departing for his quarters. I was glad, I loved minibars.
The snacks tasted ten times better to me, probably because they cost ten times as
much as they were supposed to.

“When we talked about it in the car, we didn’t know this suite would be so large,”
Alex said.

“We only have one bathroom,” Debbie growled.

“Do you plan on spending the weekend throwing up?” Alex asked.

Jimmy interrupted. “Hey, it’s okay—remember, I’ve got Ted’s room as a backup. Don’t
worry about me.”

Alex went to reply, but then her eyes slipped from Jimmy to me. Her unspoken message
couldn’t have been clearer. She wasn’t worried about Jimmy, she was worried about
me. Or
else she was trying to force the two of us back together, which, in her bizarre mind,
was the same thing.

It didn’t matter. The elephant standing in the room had just quietly roared. It could
no longer be ignored. Jimmy and I had to talk—soon, and alone. But I felt too nervous
to say it aloud. I stood and caught his eye, and headed toward my room. Jimmy understood,
he followed me and shut the door behind him.

Before I could figure out where to sit, or what I should say, he hugged me. The gesture
caught me by surprise. I didn’t hug him back, not at first, but when he didn’t let
go, I found my arms creep up and around his broad shoulders. It felt so perfect to
stand there and listen to his heartbeat. Yes, that word again, I could not be free
of it when I was around Jimmy.

The hug was warm but chaste; he didn’t try to kiss me. He didn’t even move his arms
once he had ahold of me. Although we were standing up, we could have been lying down
together, asleep in each other’s arms. I don’t know how long the hug lasted but it
felt like forever . . . compressed into a moment.

Finally, we sat on the bed together. He was holding my hands, or trying to, but I
had to keep taking them back to wipe away the silly tears that kept running over my
cheeks. He didn’t rush me to speak. But he never took his eyes off me, and I felt
he was searching my face for the answer to a question he had carried with him a long
time.

Of course, I had my own question.

“Why?” I said. The word startled me more than him. It felt so blunt after our tender
moment. The question didn’t offend him, but he let go of me and sat back on the bed,
propping himself up with a pillow.

“Do you remember the day we drove to Newport Beach?” he asked.

“Yes.” It had been during Christmas break, a few days before the holiday. I wasn’t
likely to forget because it was to turn out to be the worst Christmas of my life.
He dumped me December 22. Then I hadn’t known what to do with the presents I had bought,
or the ones I had made for him. In the end, I hadn’t done anything. I still had them
in my bedroom closet. They were still wrapped.

“When we got back to Apple Valley, Kari was waiting at my house.” Jimmy paused. “She
said she was ten weeks pregnant.”

I froze. “We were together ten weeks.”

Jimmy held up a hand. “I never slept with her once I was with you. I never even kissed
her.”

“I believe you.” And I did—he didn’t have to swear. Jimmy was incredibly rare; he
didn’t lie. I added, “Did you believe her?”

“She had an ultrasound with her.”

“That doesn’t mean it was yours.”

“Jessie . . . ”

“Saying, ‘I’m pregnant, Jimmy, you have to come back to me.’ That’s like the oldest
trick in the book.”

“I know that. I know Kari’s not always a hundred percent
straight. But I just had to look in her eyes. She was telling the truth.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know.”

“And she was showing a little bit.”

“At ten weeks?” I asked.

“It might have been twelve.”

“And it might have been a folded-up pillowcase.”

He hesitated. “No. She lifted her shirt. It was for real.”

“And she wanted to keep it.”

“Yes. That wasn’t an issue.”

“She wanted you back. That was
the
issue.”

He lowered his head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

It was a lot to digest. It was a minute before I could speak.

“You should have told me,” I said.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to, but I felt it would hurt you more to know she was having
my baby.”

I shook my head. “You’ve been good so far, real good, but that, what you just said,
is nuts. Nothing could hurt worse than that call I got. Do you remember it? ‘Hello,
Jessie, how are you doing? Good? That’s good. Hey, I’ve got some bad news. I don’t
know exactly how to tell you this. But Kari and I are getting back together. I know
this is sort of sudden, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but Kari and
I . . . we’re not done yet. We have stuff we have to work out. Are you there, Jessie?’ ”

He stared at me. “God.”

“What?”

“You remember it word for word.”

“I’ll remember it till the day I die.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that word again. Tell me why.”

“I just told you why. She was pregnant. I felt I had to do the right thing and go
back to her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I was ashamed, it’s true, but I honestly thought the truth would hurt you more.”

“That’s so lame. Didn’t you stop to imagine how I felt? You left me hanging. Hanging
above nothing ’cause I knew nothing. One moment I’m the love of your life and the
next a cheerleader has taken my place.”

He nodded. “It was dumb, I made a mistake. I should have explained everything to you.
Please forgive me.”

“No.”

“Jessie?”

“I don’t forgive you. I can’t. I suffered too much. You say you felt you had to do
the right thing so you went back to her. Let me ask you this—were you still in love
with her?”

“I was never in love with Kari.”

“Were you in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what you did was wrong. So she was pregnant. So she wept and begged you to come
back for the sake of your child. That doesn’t matter. I was more important to you,
I should have
been more important. You should have said no to her.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“Because when she rolled up her shirt and I saw that growing bump, and realized that
it was true, that it was mine, my flesh and blood, I knew I had to take care of that
baby.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re wrong, Jessie. At that moment, nothing mattered more to me than that child.
And yes, forgive me, but it mattered even more than us.”

I stood. “Get out.”

He stood. “We should talk more.”

“No, leave. This was all a . . . mistake. Go stay with Ted.”

Jimmy stepped toward the door, put his hand on the knob. He was going to leave, he
wasn’t going to fight me. That’s what I liked about him, how reasonable he could be.
And that’s what I hated about him, that he hadn’t fought for me. I was the one who
had to stop him.

“Where’s the baby now?” I asked. Kari had graduated at the end of January and left
campus early. I assumed she’d had the child.

But Jimmy lowered his head. He staggered.

“We lost him,” he said.

“She had a miscarriage?”

“No.” The word came out so small. I put my hand to my mouth.

“Don’t tell me she had the baby and it died?” I gasped.

He turned and looked at me, pale as plaster. So frail, so hollow. I felt if I said
the wrong word, he’d shatter.

“His name was Huck. He lived for three days.”

“Why did he die?” I asked.

The wrong words. Jimmy turned, opened the door, spoke over his shoulder. “You’re right,
I should go. We can talk later.”

He left; it was amazing how much it hurt. It was like he was breaking up with me all
over again. It was then I wished I hadn’t said the “why” word. We should have left
it at the hug.

CHRISTOPHER PIKE
is a bestselling author of young adult novels. The Thirst series,
The Secret of Ka
, and the Remember Me and Alosha trilogies are some of his favorite titles. He is
also the author of several adult novels, including
Sati
and
The Season of Passage
. Thirst and Alosha are slated to be released as feature films. Pike currently lives
in Santa Barbara, where it is rumored he never leaves his house. But he can be found
online at
christopherpikebooks.com
.

ALSO BY

Christopher Pike

THE THIRST SERIES

REMEMBER ME

THE SECRET OF KA

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