“Not yet,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t slow down my getaway.
“I have to work. I’ll see you later?”
I gave him a salute, then jogged toward Beaumont as fast as my legs could carry me.
Who knew running was so useful? Obviously I’d never been mortified enough before to understand its charms.
D
uring the lunch shift
, I chopped a lot of vegetables, washed a lot of pans and worried about Bella. I was in way over my head. Maybe a smarter man would have already gone to the dean and explained the situation. But some of what Bella had said rang true. What could they do, anyway? If Bella named the guy who’d brutalized her reputation, they could make him take the picture down. But that could take weeks, and the damage was already done.
Also, if I went to the dean she’d never speak to me again.
That was the wrong reason to keep her secret, though. I worried that my judgment was completely obliterated by all the complicated feelings I had for her. Every time I saw her square her shoulders against the latest indignity, I wanted to scoop her up and hold her close. Nice, right? Just what she needed—another guy to ogle her.
My job was just to be the best friend I could be. For right now, that meant watching and waiting. If Bella went to class, ate meals and went to work at the rink, then maybe I didn’t have to take any drastic action.
Before lunch was almost over, I went out to the salad bar with one last pan of lettuce.
“Hey,” someone said. “I didn’t catch your name the other day.”
I looked up to see Bella’s friend Graham. “It’s Rafe,” I told him.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Kinda working here,” I said, more annoyed with him than I ought to have been. But I was pretty sure this was the guy Bella had fallen for, and so I disliked him just on principle.
“It will just take a second.”
“All right.” I led him over to the door to the kitchen, where nobody else could hear. “What’s up?” I asked, noticing that Graham’s boyfriend had also joined us.
Graham got right to the point. “Who’s fucking with Bella?”
“I have no idea,” I said truthfully.
“It was someone from Beta Rho, though,” Graham said. “That website is theirs.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “But that’s… forty guys?”
Graham flushed. “Seriously, if you have
any
idea…”
Rikker put a hand on Graham’s shoulder. “He hears you, babe. Message received.”
Graham’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I hate that some asshole is getting away with this.”
“No kidding,” I grunted. “It’s all I think about.”
Rikker lifted his eyebrows. “Is it?”
Now they were both staring at me. “How do you know Bella, anyway?” Graham asked.
Smooth, Rafe
. “We’re neighbors,” I said. There was a beat of silence during which both guys seemed to debate whether to ask me more questions. “Look. If you want to help Bella, make sure she eats dinner tonight. I’ll be at a team meal.”
Rikker’s eyebrows shot up again. “She’s not eating?”
“She’s avoiding public places,” I said. “Or maybe she isn’t anymore. But it would be great if you could check.”
“Done,” Graham said. “I’ll bring her some dinner.”
“I have to get back to work,” I said.
“Hey, thanks!” Rikker called after me.
I walked back into the kitchen, wondering why he was thanking me. Had I helped Bella at all?
I really had no idea.
T
he soccer schedule
swallowed up my next few days. I cajoled Bella into running with me once more, and she came to Urban Studies class again. But for several days in a row, I didn’t see much of her.
My team made a road trip, where we beat Harvard and lost to Dartmouth. Bickley chattered in my ear all the way home from New Hampshire, when really all I wanted to do was sleep.
Bickley could afford to squander his time on gossip. But the second I stepped off that bus, I had to hustle to make a Sunday night dining hall shift.
Fighting exhaustion, I cut up chickens for three hours straight, and then chopped vegetables for tomorrow’s omelets.
Dinner service was almost over when I saw Bella slip into the dining hall. Good news. She got herself a plate and carried it over to sit by Graham and Rikker. I gave her a wave when I went out to pull trays off the salad bar.
“Hey, Graham?” I heard her ask. An edge in her voice made me linger nearby. “Do you have anything going on next Saturday night? I have a thing in New York that I have to go to, and I need a date. It’s an open bar.”
“What about my needs?” Rikker joked, his arms spread wide. “I like free drinks. And you’re stealing my date.”
Graham cleared his throat. “Um, guys? That’s the night of Skate with Harkness Hockey. I have to cover it, because a couple of Bruins players are supposed to show up, too.”
“Oh,” she said slowly. “The charity thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck,” Bella said. “The game schedule made that look like a night off.”
Rikker frowned. “Wait. I could come down with the flu, or something,” he suggested. “I don’t see why they need two dozen players out there.” He gave a faux cough into his hand. “I think I feel it coming on.”
Bella shook her head. “Yeah, and nobody would notice if the most famous Harkness teammate wasn’t there.”
Rikker grabbed her hand and stuck it on his forehead. “That’s a fever, right? Don’t I feel hot to you?”
She gave him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about it, Rik. It’s not a big deal.”
“I would totally blow it off, Bells.”
Bella stood. “Really, I’m good. Thanks anyway, guys.” She trotted over to the conveyor belt to bus her tray.
I caught up to her on the rebound. “Hey, Bella?”
She looked up, startled. “Yeah?”
“I can go to your thing in New York.”
Bella hesitated, which bummed me out a little bit. Maybe I wasn’t Upper East Side enough to be her date. “Are you sure?” she asked after a long pause.
“Well, I don’t have a game until Sunday night. So my mother decided that I should make an appearance at my little cousin’s christening on Sunday morning. I was supposed to take the train down anyway.”
“Huh.” She raised her eyes to mine. “The reason I asked Graham to go was because he already knows the story of my crazy family.”
Oh
. “Well… how bad could they really be? You said there’d be drinks.”
She seemed to consider the question. “Drinks will help. I just hope we won’t need them too badly. With my family, you never know.” She bit her lip, and even though it was inappropriate of me to think this way, I kind of wanted to bite it, too. “If you’re
sure
it’s not a big inconvenience, I could really use the company.”
Holding up a hand for a high five, I said, “No problem. But first, we make some headway on the Urban Studies project.”
She slapped my hand. “Okay, slave driver.”
A
s a favor to Rafe
, I wrote a spreadsheet to help tally up all the different business loans we were considering for our Urban Studies project. Truthfully, I’d never been so caught up on homework as I was this semester. Since I was still calling in sick to hockey, I had a lot of time on my hands.
“Damn,” Rafe said the next night when I showed him the spreadsheet. “We are going to
win
this thing.”
“We so are.” It’s really astonishing what you can accomplish when you barely leave your room. I was quite pleased with myself.
Rafe threw his soccer jacket on the desk chair and sat down on my bed, pulling my computer into his lap. “Are these interest rates accurate? They look high.”
“Of
course
they’re right. What do you take me for?” I gave him a nudge with my elbow. “Commercial rates are higher than regular mortgage rates. And the terms aren’t as good.”
Rafe’s dark eyes looked up at me in alarm. “What if another team doesn’t know that? We could lose the contest and all because you’re smarter.”
“Huh. Well that’s a depressing idea. It’s usually the opposite — being stupid is what bites me in the ass.”
“Me too,” Rafe mumbled.
“Although, under the right circumstances, ass biting can be awfully fun.”
His eyes got wide, and I laughed. “Don’t worry about the interest rate thing. I’ll put a range of interest rates in the write-up.”
“Good idea.” He handed my laptop back on a yawn.
“Tough practice today?”
“Always. We’re playing Princeton on Sunday night, and coach is all fired up.” He unzipped the book bag at his feet and took out his Urban Studies notebook.
“If you’re tired, we can work on this tomorrow.”
He shook his head. “I’m good. Let’s make a list of all the businesses in the neighborhood, so we can see what’s missing.”
We worked on that for awhile, with me manning the search engine on my computer while he made detailed notes in the nicest handwriting I’d ever seen from a guy.
“You’re very methodical,” I said, trying to pay him a compliment. I was trying to act like less of a bitch when Rafe was around. It made me self-conscious to know he’d seen me at my absolute worst.
“Eh,” he sighed. “Methodical is what keeps me afloat. The Harkness workload has been a real shock to my system.”
“Lots of people say that,” I said quickly.
“Do they?” he grumbled, turning the page in his notebook. “I haven’t met any of them.”
There was a knock on my door. I glanced at the clock. It was ten already, so I didn’t know who it might be. “Come in?”
Trevi opened the door. “Hey, Bella. You feeling any better?”
“Uh, sure. Trevi, this is my neighbor Rafe.”
“Hey man.” He shook hands with Rafe and then perched on my desk chair. “Bella, I have some shitty news.”
“Oh, goody,” I said, my voice light. But inside, I trembled.
More
shitty news? Really?
“Coach Canning made the brilliant decision to hire his son as the student manager.”
“What?” I gasped. “He gave my
job
away?” Even as I said the words aloud, I wished I could take them back. Because I sounded so pathetic.
Across from me, Trevi rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah. The guys are pretty pissed off. In fact, I was thinking I’d get a bunch of them together and we’d write a letter to coach. If there’s a dozen signatures on it, maybe he’ll listen.”
“No,” I said quickly. “He won’t fire his own
kid
. And Coach warned me. His email said that if I didn’t come back to practice he was going to have to look around for someone else. I just didn’t think he’d do it so fast. I thought I had a little time.”
“You didn’t go back to practice?” Rafe asked softly.
I shot him a look. See? Rafe was destined to think I was a bitch. Because when shit went bad in my life, he always happened to be around.
Trevi looked uncomfortable. “It’s just not
right
, though. His kid isn’t even a Harkness student.”
I laughed. “I’d bet any amount of money that he will be next year. This is going to look so good on his application.”
Trevi pulled a face. “As if the kid even needed to fill one out. I hate nepotism.”
“That’s like saying you hate gravity, Trevi. It’s here to stay.”
“That is craptastic.” Trevi stood. “Let me know if you change your mind about fighting it. It’s more fun with you around, Bella.”
My heart broke a little bit when he said that. Because I wanted to believe him. But I did not want to walk into that locker room, either. And now I didn’t have to.
“Come to Capri’s on Saturday night?” Trevi said, his hand on my doorknob.
“I can’t. I have a family thing in New York.”
“Sunday then,” he insisted.
“Maybe.”
“I’m not above throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you there,” Trevi teased.
“Great idea,” I deadpanned. “Chicks really dig that.”
I heard Trevi snicker as the door fell shut. When I turned back to Rafe, he was studying me with those big brown eyes that didn’t miss much. “What?” I asked, testily.
“You haven’t been going to practice?”
Ugh. Now he was going to go all bossy on me again. “Nope.”
“So you’re just going to let the job
go?
”
I closed my computer, hoping Rafe would take the hint that study time was over. “It’s not like I need the money, right? That’s lucky.” In a strange way, Trevi’s shitty news was a relief. Because now I could stop worrying about missing practice and letting people down.
“It was never about the money, I think.”
So true
. “The new coach was never my biggest fan, okay? Maybe this is the best way for him to say it without having to say it. The man can hire whomever he wants.”
Rafe made an irritated sound in the back of his throat. Then he closed his notebook and shoved it into his book bag. “It sucks, though.” He stood. “I won’t see you tomorrow. Are we still on for Saturday night?”
I was going to have to give myself a
major
pep talk before I faced my family. “Saturday night is unavoidable for me. But if you don’t feel like dressing up to eat fussy food in a room full of philanthropists, I wouldn’t blame you.”
He shrugged. “It’s no trouble. How dressy are we talking about?”
“Coat and tie.”
“That’s easy,” he said, pausing beside the bed. He put one warm hand on my head for a second, and it was all I could do to keep from leaning into it. Then he took it away again. “Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” I said, as if it was something friends just said to one another. As if I weren’t the one who was quite obviously self-destructing.
B
ella
and I rode into the city on the Metro North train in a comfortable silence. As the buildings began to get taller, I asked, “What’s the goal for tonight?”
She looked up from the book she was reading on her phone. “The goal?”
If tonight weren’t complicated for some reason, then Bella wouldn’t have needed a date. “Who needs to be impressed, and who needs to be avoided? Just give me the lay of the land.”
She stashed her phone. “Well, I invited you as a buffer. My family will be nicer to me if you’re there.”
“Why wouldn’t they be nice?” I asked.
She looked out the window. “We had a blow-up a couple of years ago. There isn’t a lot of trust between us. But my parents are civil people to the core. They’ll be nice. They’re very good at it. My sister is more of a wild card. And if there’s anyone I’m avoiding, it’s her snake of a husband.”
“Okay,” I said. I could work with that.
When the train pulled into the 125th Street station, I found it odd not to get off. My whole life I’d lived in the northernmost part of the city, where Bella and her friends never bothered to tread.
The doors shut again after a minute, and the train barreled downtown, entering the tunnel at 97th Street. When the train stopped at Grand Central, we got out to head for the 42nd Street exit. “Can’t beat this commute,” I said. Cipriani was right across the street.
“That’s the only thing tonight has going for it,” Bella said, her face stony.
I patted my chest. “The only thing? What about your fabulous fake boyfriend who’s here to meet the parents?”
Bella’s eyes crinkled with the first humor that I’d seen on her in a week. “You don’t have to be the fake boyfriend. You can just be the date. They wouldn’t believe that we were really together, anyway. They know me.”
They wouldn’t believe her?
That’s fucked
, I felt like saying. “I like a challenge,” I said instead.
“Whatever floats your paddleboat,” Bella said as we approached the door. “I appreciate you coming with me tonight.”
I hustled past Bella so I could open the door for my fake girlfriend. “This is really such a chore,” I told her, holding it open. “A night without dining hall food.”
“The food won’t be
that
good,” Bella warned.
“Yeah, but I’m not cooking it. Big difference.”
“And there’s free wine,” she added.
“That’s my favorite kind.” Although I couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time Bella and I drank wine together.
Dios
. I needed to stop thinking about that. But Bella was wearing a sleek red dress that drew my eyes down her body to her long legs. Even though I rarely saw Bella in anything dressier than a pair of jeans and a hockey T-shirt, she had the kind of curves loose clothing couldn’t hide. And tonight they were all on display.
It was going to be a long evening.
Bella led me toward the main ballroom. Cipriani was an old New York mainstay of the banquet set. It was the sort of place that was built to impress, with high columns stretching up to a soaring ceiling. “What a dump,” I joked as Bella declined the coat check.
“I’ll keep my wrap in case we need to make a quick getaway,” she said.
Tonight I’d let Bickley lend me one of his designer jackets. Looking at the crowd in this room, I was glad I had. The men wore sleek dark suits and European ties. The women wore dresses, many of which were far more elaborate than Bella’s simple design.
None of them were half as beautiful as Bella.
“Drinks before family,” she said, grabbing my hand in order to lead me toward a bar.
I closed my fingers around her slim palm. When we reached the bartender, Bella tried to let go, but I wasn’t having it. “I always hold my fake girlfriend’s hand in a crowd,” I explained.
She shifted her handbag around her body. “Just don’t get between me and my alcoholic beverage, or your fake girlfriend is going to get ornery.”
After the bartender passed two glasses of red wine to us, Bella began to look around the room. “This boondoggle is for a public health nonprofit. But it’s all Wall Street types. Because that’s who can afford a thousand dollars a plate.”
I nearly dropped my glass. “A
grand?
Are you telling me that your parents spent a thousand dollars to have your fake boyfriend attend this thing?”
“Not really.” Bella gave her head a single shake. “They bought a table because my sister works for this charity. The organization is giving her an award tonight, which is why my presence was requested. But it’s just a scam, anyway. When Mommy and Daddy are one of your biggest contributors, who else are they going to hand that award to?”
Huh
. The politics of Bella’s family were different than the politics of my family. But just as complicated.
“There they are,” she said suddenly, gesturing toward a round table up front.
Hand in hand, we walked over to the front corner of the room, where Bella’s parents sat. Even if she hadn’t pointed them out, I would have had no trouble identifying Bella’s mother. She was beautiful like her daughter, though her hair was swept up in a severe style Bella would never have tolerated. Her father looked much older than his wife. While Bella’s mom looked to be in her forties, Bella’s dad was sixty-five if he was a day.
Bella’s mom jumped up to kiss her when we arrived. “You look lovely, sweetheart,” she said, and I relaxed a little bit. After our conversation on the way in, I’d half expected Bella’s parents to have horns and a tail.
“This is Rafe,” Bella said, squeezing my hand. “Rafe, this is Lydia and Jack.”
I had to drop Bella’s hand in order to shake. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am,” I said. “And you too, sir.”
Bella gave my finger a pinch, as if to suggest I was laying it on a little too thick.
“Likewise.” Bella’s mother beamed at me. “Did you two just get off the train?”
The question put me on my guard, because it made me wonder if she was trying to figure out whether or not I was a Harkness student. Maybe I’m paranoid, but the only other Hispanic dudes in this room were pouring water into the drinking glasses. It was hard not to get a chip on your shoulder sometimes.
“Rafe lives in my entryway,” Bella said, perhaps reading the same thing into the question. “And we have a class together. Urban Studies.”
“Lovely,” Lydia said, seating herself again.
“Here,
belleza
,” I said, using a Spanish word for “beautiful” which had the same root as Bella’s name. If she were my real girlfriend, that’s what I’d call her. I pulled out Bella’s chair with a small flourish.
She gave me the wide eyes as she sat down. “Thank you.”
Bella’s mother — Lydia — asked us a couple more polite questions about school, while Jack nodded along blandly. A band started up in the opposite corner of the room, and we all turned to look. It was a nine-piece band and when they began to play, Bella’s mother reached for her husband’s hand. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you Jack?”
He held up his empty scotch glass. “I was going to make a trip to the bar.”
She stood and smiled at him. “You can do that after we foxtrot.”
With a weary chuckle, he stood. “It’s a deal.”
I watched them move toward the dance floor, Mr. Hall taking his wife’s hand gamely enough. He had it pretty good, I thought. When I was sixty-five, with two grown kids, I hoped my wife would still want to dance with me.
Bella took a big gulp of her wine. “Brace yourself. Here comes my sister.”
I turned to see another beauty approaching. Bella’s sister was too thin, though. She looked angular in places where Bella was soft. Her smile wasn’t as genuine as her sister’s, either. And it was hard to get a fix on her age. She probably wasn’t that much older than Bella, but she carried herself stiffly, like somebody’s uptight auntie.
“Hi, Isabelle,” she said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. She went for both sides, too, which caught Bella off guard.
“What, are we European now?” she asked.
Her sister’s mouth got tight. “I haven’t seen you in forever, that’s all.” She looked to me as I rose from my chair to shake her hand. “I’m Julie,” she offered.
“Rafe. It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Julie insisted, picking out a seat and tossing her little purse on the table. “I never meet Bella’s friends anymore. She’s never around.”
Beside me, Bella seemed to grit her teeth. Her wine glass was empty, and that wouldn’t do. I stood. “Julie, you don’t have a drink, yet. Can I make a run to the bar for you?”
Julie tilted her head to the side and smiled at me. “Aren’t
you
sweet. I’d love a glass of chardonnay.”
“One chardonnay and…” I put a hand on the back of Bella’s neck. “Another cab?” I picked up Bella’s empty glass.
She looked up at me, and there was a glimmer of hesitation in her expression. “Don’t be a stranger.”
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered in my best (fake) boyfriend voice. It was an easy role for me, because when given the chance, I was a good boyfriend. The kind people weren’t afraid to bring home to mom.
Five minutes later I returned to find that Bella and her sister were still the only two at the table. Bella’s sister was giving Bella chapter and verse on some point of public health policy, while Bella listened with a half-interested gaze. Maybe a rescue was in order.
“So, are we going to dance?” I asked.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” Bella said, picking up her fresh glass of wine.
“Bella doesn’t like activities that you have to stand up for,” her sister said.
I actually choked on a sip of my wine. Either Julie had just made a blatant attack on Bella’s character, or else she had no sense for innuendo.
But Bella looked unfazed. “Actually, Julie, upright fucking is pretty awesome, especially against a wall. And I know Tucker likes it.”
Her sister gasped. “For
one night
can you not act like a crazy bitch? When will you stop?”
“When someone listens,” Bella said, her voice flat.
Whoa
. I practically had whiplash from the sudden turn this conversation had taken. And then it changed again, because Mrs. Hall returned to the table alone, a fresh glass of wine in her hand. She sat down between her two daughters, seeming not to notice the fact that they were staring daggers at each other.
A moment later, an elderly stranger in a tuxedo approached the table. I expected him to greet the family, but he had a different agenda. “The band is taking requests,” he said. “Would anyone like a request card?” He held up a fountain pen in his hand.
“No thank you,” Bella said quickly.
“I would,” I said, raising my hand.
The old man beamed. “Here you are.” He handed me a thick card. “Write down as many songs as you like.”
I quickly jotted the word MERENGUE and handed it back.
He palmed the card, squinting at it. “That’s not terribly specific,” he said. “Do you care to elaborate?”
“Any one will do,” I said.
The old man grinned. “All right, then. I believe I will take your request over right away. It would be worth it to get some young blood on that floor.” He winked and walked toward the band.
“What did you just do?” asked a wary Bella.
“I made a request. Hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.”
Her eyes widened. “I told you I don’t dance.”
I sipped my wine so I wouldn’t laugh. “It’s just like running, Bella. Anyone with two feet can do it. And I’m pretty sure that some of those people over there are making do with barely that.”
She crossed her arms. “It’s not my thing.”
“Try anything once, right?”
Bella’s mother and sister were hanging on every word. At least Bella and Julie weren’t fighting anymore.
It was only two minutes later when I heard it starting up — that classic one-two merengue rhythm. It was the soundtrack of my whole life. “Here we go,” I said, standing up. I offered Bella my hand.
She shook her head. Even worse, she scooted her chair toward the wall. On the dance floor, the energy picked up as the geezers began to move to the faster beat. “Don’t leave me hanging,” I said, my hand still hanging there in the air. “Come on now. Nobody puts Bella in a corner.”
On the other side of the table, Bella’s sister snorted into her white wine, then began to laugh.
Bella rolled her eyes. Hard. “You did
not
just quote
Dirty Dancing
.”
I leaned down near Bella’s ear. “I did. Now get your ass out of that chair like the girl in the movie or I’ll have to put you in a fireman’s hold.”
Her mouth tight, Bella stood. Not one to waste an opportunity, I clasped her hand, tugging her onto the dance floor. When we reached the center, I put one hand onto Bella’s waist and took her opposite hand in mine. She was as stiff as a piece of wood. “Shake it off,
chica
. This is supposed to be fun.”
“Your job tonight was to make my life
less
embarrassing. Not more.”
“I am. Because we’re going to be the best looking dancers on this floor, and everyone in this mausoleum is going to wonder how I got so lucky as to be here with you. Now listen to this rhythm, okay? Just
step
to the beat. And let your hips absorb the motion.” I began to step in place, moving to the music. The merengue is a Dominican dance and every kid in my neighborhood can merengue before his fifth birthday. It’s just not that complicated.
With nervous eyes, Bella began to move.
“Use the hips,” I prompted, tapping a finger to the silky fabric of her dress. As I watched, she loosened up a tiny fraction. I leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You look amazing in this dress. Now move those hips a little more and you’re there.”
Biting her lip, Bella moved with me.
“See? Nothing to it. Now here’s the final touch — step forward towards me, then back again.” I guided her close to my body. “See? Now you like me…” I let her fall back. “Now you don’t. Just like in real life.”
And, just like that, we had a proper merengue going on. “There. I knew you could move.”
Bella pouted. “We’ve
seen
each other’s moves, Rafe.”