Running Scared (15 page)

“This is your fault, you know,” he said to Collin as they drove to the lakeside house. It was summer now and the roads were wet from a warm rain.

“My fault?” Collin chuckled. “You blame me for everything. What Bibi does is her business.”

“Is it?” Stuart wasn’t convinced. He shot his cousin a look that could cut through granite. “You’re the one who started all this with your talk about him!”

“But you took it one step farther, didn’t you? I just mentioned him to Bibi. You’re the one who decided to contact him and make sport of him.” Collin sighed and shook his head. His blond hair gleamed pure gold even in the cloudy day. “You’ll never learn, Stuart. Never.”

“I know, I know. I fucked up this time. Believe me I’ve lived to regret it.” He stepped on the throttle and his Porsche leaped forward, the speedometer pushing ninety, rain singing beneath the wide tires.

Collin sighed and fiddled with the radio until he found a song he recognized. Old Janis Joplin tune. Just the kind of heart-wrenching gritty rock that Collin favored, though few people knew about that side of him that he so jealously guarded. There was Collin the perfect, the A student at Harvard, a member of the crew and debate teams, a man never without his argyle socks…unless you came across him after midnight when he was on the prowl. “So why blame me?” Collin asked.

“You know she’s in love with you. Has been since she was about six, I think.”

“We’re cousins, for God’s sake.” Collin laughed nervously.

“Since when would that stop you?” Stuart asked, his thoughts dark. “Besides, it’s kind of a family tradition. Sullivans have been screwing Sullivans since they first landed on Plymouth Rock.”

“We weren’t on the
Mayflower,
” Collin reminded him. “You keep forgetting that.”

“A real blight on the family name.” Stuart braked for a corner and the tires squealed a bit. Collin didn’t even seem to notice.

“Not the only one,” Collin said, leaning back against the passenger seat, his hands tapping in rhythm to the song on the radio. His fingers were long and strong. Graceful and supple from years of practicing piano, violin, and guitar. “Remember—Great-great-great-great-aunt Corinne was—”

“Burned at the stake, I know. A witch. Could read people’s minds or some such rot. I think you missed a great or two in there somewhere.”

“Probably. And not burned at the stake. Just accused of being a witch. I think someone else was flogged for witchcraft, but his or her life was spared.” Collin’s expression turned dark. “It looks like you’re going to be in charge of this family someday, so you should get the history right.” He reached into the glove box and found a pair of sunglasses he’d left in Stuart’s car nearly a year ago—last summer. “I wonder why O’Rourke took a pot shot at Dad.”

Stuart laughed dryly. “He missed, didn’t he? Point-blank range. My guess is that he wasn’t really trying, but then maybe his aim was off. He’s probably never been skeet shooting.”

“Nor fenced or read Thoreau, or caught an opening on Broadway, either,” Collin said without the slightest trace of a sneer. He slid the aviator glasses onto the bridge of his patrician nose though the day was already gloomy.

“Never suffered through the Russian Ballet or had the opportunity to learn French in Paris.”

“Poor unfortunate wretch.”

“A lucky stiff if you ask me. He can do what he bloody well wants. Like try to shoot Frank Sullivan.”

“Probably missed on purpose.”

“My ass. He hates your old man.”

Collin’s lips curled slightly. “Don’t we all?”

“So why don’t you pick up a gun?”

With a slow smile Collin said, “There are better ways to get back at dear old dad, don’t you think?”

“And you know them all.”

Collin’s laugh was downright dirty. “Not only know them, but practice them daily.”

“If you’re lucky.”

“I usually am,” Collin assured him as Stuart rounded the final bend and eased the Porsche through the open gates. Robert and Adele had already moved to the lake for the summer, and this was their first party of the season. Stuart had offered to pick up Collin as he’d been trapped with late finals, so they’d driven up together.

“The least you could do is offer Bibi some encouragement,” Stuart said. “Maybe then she wouldn’t be so interested in O’Rourke.”

“That would be cruel.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love her—not like that.” His lips pinched at the corners.

“What’s love got to do with anything?”

“For Christ’s sake, Stu, forget it. If you’re so interested, you do it.”

“Hell, Collin, she’s my sister.”

“She’s my cousin!”

“So?”

“Oh, for the love of God. There’s no way I’m going to lead Bibi on.”

“Sure you will. Come on, it could be fun.”

“Fun?” Beneath his sunglasses, Collin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so.”

“Think about it,” Stuart said.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss her? Feel her up? Get into her pants, for Christ’s sake? What are you, her fucking pimp?” He was angry now, his usually calm expression changed by fury. Blue eyes were narrowed, lips grim and flat, nostrils flared. Outraged. Just the way Stuart liked to see him.

“Just show her some attention.”

“Seduce her?”

“There are worse things you could do.”

“I don’t think so!”

Stuart parked near the garage. He yanked the key from the ignition and Collin shoved open his door. “Wait.” Clamping strong fingers over his cousin’s arm, Stuart said, “Just be kind to her, okay? Don’t lead her on, but give her some hope so that she gets over O’Rourke.”

“False hope, you mean.”

“We could make it more interesting.”

“I don’t need more interesting, Stuart. Or don’t you remember?”

Stuart wasn’t listening. As the oldest, he’d always been able to get his sister and younger cousins to do his bidding. Sometimes he asked them, other times he threatened, but his true skill, his talent, was in manipulation. “Come on, Collin, give the girl a break. It won’t take long and you might enjoy it. Right now O’Rourke’s new and interesting, but she’s really hung up on you.”

“Great.” Collin rolled his eyes. But he was weakening. As he always did.

“This…intrigue she feels for O’Rourke will pass of its own accord, but we’re just giving it a little push.”

“We?”

“Well, you, really.”

Muttering under his breath, Collin fell back against the seat. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into all this nonsense.”

“’Cause you love it. Now, listen. It’ll be easy to turn Bibi’s head from the bastard. She’s had this crush on you since she was six.” Now that his quarry was in no danger of escaping, Stuart could remove his hand from Collin’s upper arm, but he let it linger, reminding Collin just who was boss. “Oh, I know she’s been with a couple of other boys—infatuations that passed. She’s always been way ahead of the girls her age. Once Mother caught her making out with Donny Cheltham on the dock. The top of Bibi’s swimsuit was off and Donny had a boner so big his Speedo couldn’t hide it.”

“Your mother told you this?”

“I was there,” Stuart said, and he felt a familiar rush in his bloodstream at the thought of Bibi and Donny groping and rolling around in the hot summer sun, their bodies slick with sweat and suntan oil. “They just didn’t know it.”

“So now you’re a peeping Tom.”

“Always have been and you know it. You like it.”

“Let go of me.” Collin ripped his arm away, stood, and straightened his tie. “You’re depraved, you know that, don’t you, Stuart?”

Stuart slipped the keys in his pocket. “A fucking deviant and proud of it.”

“Oh, hell!” Collin’s mouth lifted at the corner. His fury dissipated quickly, as it always did. That was the problem with Collin; he didn’t really know how to hold a grudge. Unlike his old man. Unlike almost everyone else lucky enough to be a part of this family.

Bibi watched him walk into the room with Stuart. Tall, lean, sexy. Collin had always appealed to her. As kids they’d played together, and later as he’d grown, he’d become her friend and confidant, but then adolescence had taken hold and he’d spent more time with Stuart than her. The larger her breasts became, the more defined her waist, the less the boys wanted to be around her. A few years ago, they’d been an exclusive threesome, never letting prim and tattletaling Alicia into the group, but slowly Bibi, too, had been weaned. Now Stuart and Collin were best friends.

Bibi tried to reach him. Sometimes Collin was just plain cold, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, as if he had problems he couldn’t share with her, but other times he was friendly and she was reminded of the boy she’d grown up with.

Tonight, he nearly blinded her with his smile. Alicia was playing the piano, hoping to impress them all with her perfect rendition of some classical piece—Chopin, Bibi thought idly. The parents were gathered in the living room, where they were sipping martinis. Bonnie was near the fire, curled on a sofa and reading a book.

“Isn’t this a rowdy group?” Stuart observed as he eyed the hors d’oeuvres arranged on a tabletop. Snagging a prawn wrapped in bacon, he plopped it into his mouth.

“The rest of the guests are supposed to arrive around eight.” Bibi didn’t like the thought of putting up with another boring party with friends of her family, but she had no choice. This was a command performance.

“Maybe we can all be drunk by then,” Stuart said so that only she and Collin could hear. He smeared some salmon pâté onto a tiny cracker.

“Fat chance,” she said. “Some of us aren’t old enough.”

“There are ways,” Stuart told her and slid a glance at Collin as he took a bite from the cracker. “Meet us in the pool house after everyone arrives, so you won’t be missed. Nine-thirty.”

Collin shot him a look that could kill.

Bibi ignored it. “Why?” She couldn’t help the excitement that crept into her voice. They were finally including her again.

“It’s a surprise,” Stuart told her. “Don’t tell the girls.” His gaze moved to include Bonnie and Alicia. “Make sure you come alone.”

Bibi slipped out of the house unnoticed. Collin and Stuart had left a few minutes earlier, not together. First Stuart had wandered onto the flagstone deck and not returned. After hanging around the dessert table and talking with a couple of older guys, Collin had made his exit as well. Now, Bibi, making sure that no one was paying any attention to her, headed for the powder room, then once she was in the hallway, slipped through a door to the servants’ quarters and out a back way near the laundry room.

A light drizzle had deigned to mist over the Sullivan party and wisps of fog clung to the black surface of the lake. She made her way to the pool house by memory, having spent every summer of her life here. The lights outside didn’t illuminate the grounds near the wing that housed the maids who lived with them in the summer, but Bibi was still able to run through the shadows, past a laurel hedge and around the edge of the pool that, with its submerged light shining, shimmered an electric shade of aqua in the night. The pool house was unlocked and dark.

“Anybody here?” she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“For God’s sake, come in and close the door!” Stuart’s voice bounced off the walls.

The lock clicked behind her and Stuart drew all the curtains then snapped on a small lamp near the bed. A tiny pool of light cast warm shadows over the floral bedspread and matching chairs. “I can’t believe we’re sneaking around like a pack of thieves.”

Collin emerged from the kitchen. Balancing a wicker tray that was loaded with three filled glasses, he said, “Don’t we always? Face it, Stu, it’s our lot in life.” A look passed between them that she couldn’t read and Collin handed her a glass filled with amber liquid.

“It’s silly,” Stuart said, anxious to be his own man. For the past few years he’d been pulling at the bit, wanting more. Soon he’d graduate from college, then he’d put in a stint at law school and finally be able to step into the shoes that had been fashioned for him from the day of his birth.

“Silly, but necessary. Cheers.” Collin let him pick a glass from the tray, took another for himself, and tossed the empty wicker tray onto the bed. He clinked the rim of his glass to both Stuart’s and Bibi’s. “To the Three Musketeers.”

“Is that what we are?” Bibi asked as she sat on the edge of the mattress.

“Sure.” Stuart took a swallow from his glass and sprawled in one of the side chairs. “Always have been.”

“Not recently.”

“Maybe that’s all changed,” Stu said cryptically. “Come on, Bibi, relax. Drink up.”

For a reason she couldn’t name, she felt a speck of indecision. She wanted desperately to be close to them both again and yet there was something wrong here. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I thought this is what you wanted,” Stuart prodded.

“It is,” she said, reaching for her purse and finding a crushed pack of cigarettes. She lit up and calming smoke curled down into her lungs.

Collin stared at Bibi over the edge of his glass as he took a healthy gulp. His eyes were mesmerizing and Bibi’s throat was suddenly as dry as the Sahara in summer. Without another thought she sipped from the glass, felt the blended scotch burn a fiery path down her throat, and waited for the alcohol to hit her blood-stream. She needed that warmth now and it came quickly in a familiar rush. After the fourth or fifth swallow she felt her muscles soften and her doubts flee. She was with Stu and Collin again. What could possibly go wrong?

She wasn’t aware of time, didn’t even think that they might be missed from the party, but after a while—during the second or third drink and a like amount of cigarettes—Stuart, known for being able to hold his liquor and keep a level head—said he’d make a brief appearance back at the main house and field questions. If anyone asked about Bibi or Collin, he’d say they took a walk down by the lake or some such nonsense. No one, with the exception of Alicia, would doubt him for a moment. He breezed out through the back door and Bibi leaned back against the pillows of the big bed, used occasionally for weekend summer guests. She took a final drag of her smoke and squashed it in a bedside tray.