Great (18 page)

“You've already caused enough,” the manager said. “Now get in your car and leave.”

At this, Teddy whipped around, stomped over to the manager, and got right in his face.

“What's your problem, bro?” Teddy shouted as Jeff tried to pull him off. “We're not bothering anybody out here. You already ruined our dinner. Do you know who my father is?”

The manager, who was about five inches shorter than Teddy, drew himself up to his full height.

“I don't care who your father is,” he said slowly and loudly. “I care about my customers. And you ruined your own dinner.”

Teddy reared back and shoved the man, hard. The manager stumbled backward and landed on his butt on the gravel driveway.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jeff said, pulling Teddy away. “C'mon, man. C'mon. We don't need you to get arrested.”

“Like this loser would call the cops on me,” Teddy said. He spit on the ground.

The valets helped the manager to his feet.

“You're banned from this restaurant, kid,” he said, his teeth gritted. “Don't bother coming back to Baxley's. I'll talk to the club board of directors.”

“My father has a standing reservation,” Teddy shot back. “I'll be back tomorrow if I want.”

Jeff looked at me urgently. “C'mon, Naomi,” he said. “Let's get in the car. Teddy, let's get in the car. We're all getting in the car. I can drive.”

“
I'm
driving!” Teddy roared. “I'm the only one who drives this car!”

“Okay, buddy, okay,” Jeff said. “No worries, man. Let's just get back to Delilah's house.”

“I'll take a cab, I think,” I said. One thing was clear: Teddy was still drunk, and I did
not
want to get in a car with him.

“You'll get out of here immediately,” the manager said. “With them.”

It didn't seem like I had much of a choice.

“Delilah,” Teddy muttered as we all got in the car. “Adriana DeStefano's probably, like, wearing her skin by now. All
Silence of the Lambs
and shit. You seen
Silence of the Lambs
, Naomi?”

“No,” I said quietly. I kept thinking about what my dad had taught me:
Never get in the car with a drunk driver. Call me. I'll come pick you up. I won't be mad.
But my dad was far away now, and I wasn't even sure where my mother was.

“You gotta watch
Silence of the Lambs
,” Teddy said over the noise of the engine. He gunned it and screeched out of the restaurant's driveway. I fell back against the seat.

“Easy, bro,” Jeff said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Teddy shrugged it off.

“You telling me how to drive now, man?” Teddy asked.

“'Course not,” Jeff said.

“We all know what a great driver I am.” Teddy cackled. “Naomi!” he boomed, suddenly in good spirits again. “This guy ever tell you how many times he failed his road test?”

“No, he sure didn't,” I said, gripping my knees. I'd been in a car with a speeding Teddy once before, but this time he was weaving back and forth a little bit as well.

“Three times!” Teddy yelled, laughing. “Three times!”

“Wow,” I said. “Three times. Well, I don't even have my driver's license.”

“How do you get around?” Teddy asked.

“I walk,” I said.

He thought that was the most amusing thing he'd ever heard.

“She walks!” he said to Jeff, laughing. “I love this chick! She's hilarious!”

“She's pretty funny,” Jeff said, smiling at me. I ignored him. I just wanted this night to be over already. More than anything else, I wanted to get home, call Skags up, and debrief her about the insane turn things had taken.

“If that psycho bitch is at Delilah's house when we get back, I'm calling the cops,” Teddy vowed.

“I hear you, man,” Jeff said. “I just don't know what they'd arrest her for.”

“Lying!” Teddy boomed. “Misleading honorable citizens!” He drove through a stop sign, and a car swerved to miss hitting him.

After a couple more minutes on Route 27, Dr. Zazzle's billboard came into view. There was a commotion underneath it. In the twilight hour, it was a little hard to see what exactly was happening, but the flashing lights up ahead were unmistakable.

“Slow down, man, slow down!” Jeff said suddenly. “There are cops over there!”

Teddy laid on the brakes, and we were all jolted forward. He slowed to a crawl and turned his head, watching the scene with fascination. A police officer was interviewing a cyclist who was standing beside his bike. A little farther down, emergency workers rushed to load a twisted body onto a stretcher. A second officer watched over them as they worked.

“Looks bad,” Teddy said with evident excitement. “Let's ask the cop what happened!”

“Bad idea, man,” Jeff said. “Just keep going.”

“No, no, we're gonna stop,” Teddy said. “It's like these old movies my cousin used to show me.
Faces of Death
. You got to see
real
car crashes on, like, the Autobahn and stuff. Nasty as hell.”

“This is sick,” I said as Teddy pulled over. “This is seriously sick.”

Teddy looked surprised.

“No, it's not,” he said. “I just wanna know what happened.” With that, he bounded out of the car and over to the officer standing by the emergency workers.

“Let's go after him,” Jeff said, sighing. “He does stuff like this when he's drunk.”

“You go after him,” I said crossly. “I'm staying right here.
He's
the psycho.”

“He's just having a rough night,” Jeff said defensively. “He's a good guy.”

I was about to unleash a few choice words about Jeff's definition of a “good guy” when we heard a sudden wail behind us. We both twisted around and looked through the rear window. Teddy was on his knees, his head in his hands, while the officer bent down.

“Did that noise come from
Teddy
?” Jeff said, aghast. He leapt out of the car. I followed.

We ran up and heard the officer say, “Do you know her, son?” He had a soothing hand on Teddy's back.

That's when I saw the girl on the stretcher, her white collared shirt splattered with her own blood, half her face sheared off by the road. It was Misti.

Teddy shook his head back and forth, his hands covering his face. I gasped and balled my hands up into fists, as if the pressure of my nails digging into the soft skin of my palms could distract me from what I was seeing. Jeff leaned over and puked.

Then she—or what was left of her—was gone, shut inside the ambulance, which turned on its lights and screeched away from the roadside. The other officer finished up his interview and jogged over to where we stood. The first officer helped Teddy to his feet.

“Sh-she's a server at Baxley's,” Teddy said, his face ashen. “Her name is Misti.”

“We'll go down the road and tell them,” one of the cops said.

“What happened?” Jeff asked weakly, wiping his mouth.

The other cop pointed to a mangled bicycle lying half-hidden by brush. “She was on her bike. Witness was a little far off but said a car came by, plowed into her, kept going.”

“She's alive, though,” Teddy said shakily. “Right? She's alive?”

“For now,” said the cop who'd been interviewing the witness. “Next twenty-four hours will be crucial. You know her family or any people we should contact?”

Teddy was silent.

“Just go tell everybody at Baxley's,” Jeff said. “They'll know what to do.”

The cops nodded and began to walk toward their squad car.

“What kind of car was it?” Teddy called, suddenly alert and in control again. His voice was steady. “The car that hit her. What kind of car was it?”

“White car,” said the cop who'd comforted Teddy. “Witness was too far off to note make or model. Said it was like a flash of white, and then it was gone.”

Teddy's face hardened.

“Thank you, Officer,” he said tightly.

The other officer glanced back at him. “Hey, aren't you the kid from, what was that show . . . ?”

Teddy smiled his gleaming white smile.

“
Oh, Those Masons!
” he said. “Yes, I am.”

The cops looked impressed.

“Great show,” said the one who'd recognized him. “Used to love that one.”

“Thanks,” Teddy said.

The officers waved goodbye and drove off. Teddy turned to us, his expression darkening.

“A white car,” he snapped. “Now, who do we know who has a white car?”

I couldn't stand it anymore.

“You think it was
Jacinta
?” I burst out, my voice louder than I'd intended. “So everything's her fault now? Just because she stole one of your girlfriends doesn't mean she tried to kill someone.” For about a thousand reasons, I was livid. I wanted to smash in his stupid handsome face.

Teddy glared at me, and for a moment I thought he might hit me. Instinctively, I backed up.

Jeff stepped between us and put his hand on Teddy's shoulder.

“Hey, man,” he said softly. “Hey. Just breathe. She didn't know what she was saying. Let's all just breathe for a minute.” Wordlessly, Teddy turned around and walked back to his car.

The drive to Delilah's was completely silent. When we parked in the driveway, we all got out of the car. Teddy turned to face us. He was smiling.

“Want to come in for a drink?” he asked, as if nothing had happened. “Jeff? Naomi?”

Creeped out by yet another one of his rapid mood changes, I shook my head no. He looked at me curiously.

“Aww, c'mon,” Teddy said, patting me on the back. I shrank from his touch.

“No, thank you,” I said stiffly.

Teddy shrugged, waved goodbye, and walked into the house.

Jeff looked at me.

“What are you going to do, just sit out here?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I'm going home.”

“How? I'm not good to drive yet.”

“Well, neither was Teddy, and we got home all right.”

“Just wait an hour,” Jeff said. “I'll drink a club soda. I just don't want to get a DUI.”

“I'm calling a cab,” I said, and turned to walk away. Jeff grabbed my arm and spun me back around. I jerked my arm out of his grasp.

“Don't touch me,” I said coldly.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded. “Everything was fine and now you're pissed at me? Let's just go have a drink!”

I stared at him and realized he just didn't get it. He didn't understand why it was disgusting and awful to witness what we had witnessed—at the restaurant, and especially after—and just have a drink in some rich girl's mansion as if everything were normal.

Without another word, I walked off, leaving him standing in the driveway, looking frustrated.

Delilah's driveway was a long one, and gated—probably a quarter mile long. I'd gotten halfway down the driveway when I heard a rustling and a whisper from the bushes.

“Naomi! Naomi, over here.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Jacinta quickly stepped out of the bushes.

“Jesus, Jacinta. You scared the hell out of me.” I put my hand over my heart and took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” she said, shaking the leaves from her dress. “It's just— I can't leave Delilah alone. I have to make sure she's okay.”

“So you're hiding in the bushes.”

“I need to wait a little while before I drive home.”

“So where's your car parked?”

“Not far from here,” she said uneasily, digging the toe of her pricey shoe into the ground. “Near the property. We ran into some trouble on the road on the way in, so we put the car someplace safe and walked the rest of the way.”

My heart sank.

“Ran into some trouble,” I said.

“Yes.”

“You mean you hit somebody.”

Jacinta looked ashamed. She was quiet for a moment.

“She was scared,” she finally said. “She'd been drinking and crying, and it was hard for her to see.”

“Who? Misti?” I asked.

She looked at me in confusion.

“No,” Jacinta said. “Delilah.”

“
Delilah
hit
Misti
?”

“No, Delilah was driving and—”

“But you drove away from Baxley's.”

“Delilah said driving would help her calm down. We pulled over and switched seats, and then she went really fast, and then . . .” Jacinta stopped and twisted her hands together.

“It wasn't her fault,” she said. “The bike came out of nowhere.”

“Misti's bike,” I said. “Delilah hit Misti.”

Jacinta's jaw dropped, and her enormous green eyes grew even bigger. She covered her mouth with her milky white hand.

“We saw them loading her into an ambulance,” I said. “Half her face was gone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jacinta whispered. “We never saw who it was . . . oh, this is bad for Delilah. Oh God, this is bad for Delilah.”

“Bad for
Delilah
?” I wanted to smack her, almost the way I'd wanted to hit Teddy earlier. “Misti might
die
, Jacinta. Adriana. Whatever your name is. Somebody might
die
.”

Jacinta's eyes lit up with strange hope. “But she's not dead yet?” she asked feverishly. “She isn't dead?”

I could've strangled her.

“No,” I said. “The cop said she's alive. But if you could've seen her face—”

Jacinta exhaled slowly and said, “As long as she's alive. Then it's not as bad.”

“It looked pretty bad,” I said. “And you need to tell the police.”

“The police?” She looked horrified. “Me?”

“Jacinta,” I said, speaking slowly, as if to a small child. “It was your car. Everybody saw
you
drive away—me, Teddy, Jeff, the valets. Not Delilah. You.”