“I wish I didn’t have to give it back,” Tinsley pouted. She set down her lychee martini on the bar’s glass top and slid the antique bracelet over her hand. “But thank you for letting me borrow it.”
“My pleasure.” Eric smiled at her, and she held his gaze. They’d arrived at the hotel an hour earlier and taken a seat at the sleek hotel bar while the concierge had their bags sent to their suite. They were already on to their third martini, although they weren’t yet on their first kiss. “Now. Here’s to—”
“Secrets,” Tinsley interrupted. After their flirtatious emails, she’d assumed they’d rip each other’s clothes off and do it in the back of Eric’s limo as soon as he picked her up. Instead, he’d asked her to tell him stories about her family and told her about his father and the stick up his ass. So far, the day together had been remarkably
un
sexy. She was ready to change all that, though. “Who doesn’t like a good secret?”
Eric leaned toward her. “Well … I know I do.”
There. That was a little better. “You must have some good ones,” Tinsley goaded him. For some reason, she wanted to hear him tell her that he liked Brett but how that had changed the minute he laid eyes on
her
. She wanted to hear how much smarter and sexier and cooler she was.
“Me? Nah.” He sat back, taking another sip from his glass. The bartender switched the music to some sultry jazz, as though he’d been reading her mind. “Though I’m sure
you
do.”
“Hmmm …”
She pretended to think. If he wasn’t going to come out with it, she could help him along. “Well, I have this friend, Brett. ...”
Eric cleared his throat. A six-foot model Tinsley recognized from last year’s Blumarine fashion show walked into the bar, but Eric didn’t take his eyes off her. “Tinsley, I—”
“So it’s not
my
secret, exactly,” she went on, prying her eyes away from the model. “But she told everyone at Waverly her family saves puffins or something in Newfoundland, even though her dad is actually a liposuction specialist in New Jersey! Can you
believe
?”
“She mentioned that once.” Eric looked around the dimly lit room nervously. “So I guess that’s not such a big secret.”
Wait,
what?
That was Brett’s biggest secret ever, and she’d told Eric? Eric
Dalton
? Tinsley was suddenly seized with a panicky feeling that maybe there was more to his fling with Brett than she’d thought. Maybe he
didn’t
think she was sexier and more beautiful than Brett. “I didn’t realize you were so close,” she murmured coldly.
“Don’t be like that,” he scolded her, which she was surprised to enjoy. She felt suddenly like the naughty schoolgirl that she was. He reached over, cupped her chin in his hand, and met her gaze. “I’m sure people must tell you this all time, but you have the most
beautiful
eyes.”
And with that, he leaned in to kiss her. As their lips met, she couldn’t help but think that yes, people
did
tell her that all the time. She was forever waiting for someone to tell her that the beauty mark hidden behind her ear was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, but so far, no one had ever even noticed it. But as Eric slipped his hand down her neck and fingered the opening of her delicate navy wrap dress, she swept her thick dark hair behind her. She might as well give him the
chance
to see it, right?
“Should we check out our suite?” he whispered breathily.
“Let’s do that.”
By early evening, Jenny and Easy were nestled into a cozy table at Balthazar, a posh and bustling Soho brasserie where the waiter didn’t bat an eyelash when they ordered a carafe of pinot noir. Jenny leaned back on the red leather bench seat, enjoying the way Easy looked next to her in the high-ceilinged, dark, oak-paneled room. The tables were close together and filled with well-dressed hipsters enjoying aperitifs and gearing up for a night on the town. A giant, antique Parisian brasserie mirror hung above their heads. They ordered a plate of steak frites. Jenny sipped her glass of wine.
“I’m going to run outside and check my messages. Make sure Dalton hasn’t called to check up on me or anything.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back. Don’t eat all the fries without me, okay?”
“I’m not promising anything.” Jenny touched her hair, making sure her barrettes hadn’t fallen out, or it would be a mass of frizzies. “I dream about these fries.”
“I’ll hurry.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. She was so kissable! It was nice to get off campus for once and to be alone with Jenny without having to worry about Callie hearing about it. He made his way through the tiny spaces between the crowded tables, thinking how nice it would be if he and Jenny could go to a real Parisian brasserie. His heart pounded as he started to think of her in his parents’ Parisian garret apartment, lying on the small French bed, completely naked.
As he stepped into the busy Soho street, throngs of evening shoppers bounded down the street carrying Bloomingdale’s signature brown paper bags and sleek black Barneys Co-op shopping bags. It took him a moment to recognize the girl standing in front of him, wearing a bohemian-looking long-belted cashmere cardigan over a navy blue chiffon wrap dress that was on the verge of unwrapping.
Easy imagined the look on his face to be similar to the shocked one on Tinsley’s when she turned around and saw him. What the hell was she doing here? Tinsley quickly regained her composure, however, and pulled the cigarette out of her grinning red lips. “Thought you were on probation.”
Easy stared at her and in a flash of memory recalled seeing Tinsley when he and Jenny walked out of the woods together. So she
had
seen. “Are you going to tell on me again?”
Tinsley narrowed her carefully made up eyes. She took another drag on her cigarette and thought for a moment, determined to choose her words carefully. “I know you’re here with Jenny. I see her inside. But you know what?” Tinsley’s face quickly assumed a self-satisfied expression, and Easy clenched his fist in his pocket. “Jenny just hooked up with somebody else last night. How’s that for a sweet little girlfriend?”
Wait,
what
? For a minute, Easy’s stomach fell, but then he realized where this information was coming from—scheming Tinsley, bitter that she wasn’t the one everyone was talking about at the moment. “Fuck you. I don’t believe anything you have to say.” He pulled the door open to go back inside. “You’ve got some real issues, you know that?”
“I’m not the only one.” Tinsley smiled sweetly at him, a smile that made his toes curl.
Making, his way back to Jenny, Easy forced himself to calm down. He just wanted to enjoy the rest of the day and forget about that jealous bitch outside. Of course she’d say something like that about Jenny. She was sweet and kind and honest—three qualities one would
never
attribute to Tinsley.
“Quick, sit down.” Jenny grabbed Easy’s hand and pulled him into the booth. “Look!” Easy turned his head and looked out the window, expecting to see Tinsley’s lying eyes staring back at them. Instead, he caught a glimpse of Tinsley walking down Spring Street on someone’s arm.
Dalton
. “Do you think they saw us?” Jenny asked, clearly worried about Easy’s probation.
Easy nodded, still staring out the window. “They may have seen us, but I have an idea.” An idea he was definitely going to use to take Dalton down.
Easy always looked forward to his Wednesday morning Advanced French Literature, but today it was because it was the one class he shared with Brett Messerschmidt, and he needed her help. He had to get Dalton busted before Dalton got him
expelled
. Enter Brett. She was class prefect. If she accused Dalton of something, everyone would listen.
Madame Claubert stood at the front of the room, her long gray hair pulled into a clip at the back of her head. She was one of those older women whose beauty just seemed to sharpen and intensify with age. Her cheekbones were perfectly chiseled, her neck long and swanlike, her body as taut as a ballerina’s. French women were so sexy.
“Monsieur Walsh,
entrez
.” She stood inside the door, waiting to close it.
“Bien sûr, madame.”
Easy scooted inside and slid into the empty desk in front of Brett. She gave him her typical raised eye-brow half smile. Her skin had more color to it than it had for most of the past week.
“Thank you for joining us. Now we may get started.” She held a stack of papers and passed them out to each row. “Please pair up and answer the ten questions in this
examen petit
.” She clapped her thin hands together.
“Dix minutes.”
Easy spun around in his chair. “Mademoiselle Messerschmidt. Will you do me the honor?”
“Mais oui.”
Brett was wearing an army green sweater that made her eyes glow greener and a khaki skirt that came to midthigh. She looked totally cute and completely young and innocent. Easy could see why Dalton would be attracted to her, but how could he be slimy enough to act on it?
“Listen … ,” Easy said when they had answered half the questions. He glanced at her sideways, trying to be subtle. He didn’t want to embarrass her or anything. “I heard stuff. ... But did anything ever actually happen between you and Mr. Dalton?”
Brett’s jaw dropped, revealing a platinum filling in one of her bottom molars that Easy had never noticed before. She pulled herself together quickly and gave Easy a withering glare that looked more defensive than angry. “Go to hell.”
“No, no, I’m not trying to get you in trouble or anything,” Easy said quickly, his fingers twirling his fountain pen. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Brett eyed him suspiciously. What did he want, then? He looked so eager. Easy wasn’t normally much of a gossip. She bit her lip and pretended to scan the list of questions as Madame Claubert left the classroom. “So why are you asking?”
“You’re probably not going to enjoy hearing this, but I ran into Tinsley in Soho yesterday.” He paused. “She was with Mr. Dalton.”
Brett let the words make their way to her brain slowly. She felt sick as their meaning registered. She
knew
it. She knew Tinsley was wearing Eric’s platinum link bracelet that night. How could she
do
that? Why? And Eric—she’d meant so little to him that the second Tinsley strutted along, he’d dropped her like last year’s Prada pumps? She was such an
idiot
.
“What …
jerks
.” Brett couldn’t think of anything stronger to say. The image of the two of them in bed in the penthouse at the Soho Grand filled Brett with rage. What if she’d actually lost her virginity to Eric? Then suddenly all of her confusion quickly metamorphosed into pure fury. He had lied to her. He didn’t think what they were doing was unethical—he just wanted to be doing it with Tinsley. “He should be arrested.”
“There’s really no way to prove they’re together, though. Just because they were in New York together doesn’t mean …” He sighed.
“It
does
mean that to anyone who knows Tinsley.” Brett fiddled nervously with the tiny gold hoops in her ear. The ones Eric had kissed so sweetly. It was all part of his act, she thought angrily.
Easy slumped in his chair. “And I wouldn’t want you to have to go public with your ordeal. I’m sure you’ve been through enough already.”
The thought of having to tell the administration—in detail—what had happened between her and Eric—Mr. Dalton, whatever—made her feel totally sick. She shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think I could do that.”
Easy shrugged. “Then we’ve got to get him on something else.”
Madame Claubert opened the classroom door.
“Vite! Vite!”
she yelled jovially.
“Deux minutes!”
Brett tossed her hair and flipped through her copy of
Le Rouge et le Noir
. “Wait a second …” She dropped the book on her desk and clutched at Easy’s arm. “The time I was at his house, he had a bag of weed on his dresser. Maybe we can use that?”
“But you couldn’t tell Marymount where you saw it.” Easy drummed his fingers on the wooden desk. “Unless …”
“Unless …” Brett continued, following Easy’s train of thought. “I say I went to his house to pick up some DC files and he offered to
smoke
it with me. ... I can say exactly where it is in his house, and …”
Easy nodded, finishing her sentence: “And what’s Dalton going to say to that? He didn’t offer it to you, that you just saw it in his bedroom when you happened to be spending the night?”
Brett’s lips formed a giddy smile. “He wouldn’t risk denying it and having me come out with the truth. Can you imagine, a Dalton being charged with statutory rape?”
Easy looked like he could have hugged her. “He’ll be forced to resign.”
For the first time since the whole Eric Dalton saga began, she felt like she was in control. “Exactly.”
After French class, Easy gave Brett a good-luck pat on the back. She smiled bravely at him and marched directly to Marymount’s office in Stansfield Hall. Marymount’s secretary, Mr. Tomkins, a balding man who wore only floral ties, was sitting behind an oak desk when Brett walked in. “Hello, Brett dear.” Adults always seemed to like Brett, and Mr. Tomkins treated her like she was the bright spot in his day. “What can I do for you?”
Brett straightened her shoulders and said in her most businesslike voice, “I’d like to speak with Dean Marymount, please.”
Mr. Tomkins’s hand hesitated above the intercom as he prepared to buzz the dean. “What shall I tell him this is about?”
“It’s confidential.” Brett smiled apologetically.
But not for long
.