Robin Wasserman - Envy

After sifting through the skeletons in the closets of half of the Upper West Side, the denizens of Grace, California, didn’t really pose much trouble for Kaia’s investigative skills, especially since, at the moment, she had very little else to do. So even though she’d been in town for only a month, she knew things, big and small.

She knew that the servants played poker together in the room above the garage every Sunday night-and that their drink supplies always came courtesy of the Sellers family liquor cabinet. She knew that Alicia, the married maid, was screwing Howard, Kaia’s father’s driver. She knew that the Haven High principal was having an affair with her English teacher, that Adam’s mother was well deserving of her reputation as the town slut, that her gym teacher was an alcoholic kleptomaniac, that her middle-aged mailman was still emotionally debilitated by the tragic loss of his mother in 1987, and that the woman who ran the local post office was a thirty-seven-year-old virgin. Of course she knew about Harper’s and Kane’s little crushes-that was child’s play.

And she knew that every Friday night from eight p.m. to closing, the bar stool on the far left in the Prairie Dog Bar and Grill was occupied by one Mr. Jack Powell.

Yes, knowing things could come in handy.

It was a hole in the wall, with room for no more than ten customers at once (though crowding was never a problem). The grill, if it had ever truly existed, must have broken long ago, for the only food available was the stale peanut and pretzel mix filling the spotted beer mugs spread across the bar, and the moldy cheese left as bait in the mousetraps in the corners. Other than the bartender, a smiling old man with no hair and plenty of rounded edges, Jack Powell was the only one there.

She sidled up to the bar and hopped onto the stool next to him. He was hunched over a mug of beer, reading a book. No Exit , by Sartre. How appropriate.

“Kind of a bleak choice for Friday night,” she observed, peering over his shoulder at the tiny print.

He looked up in horror and practically fell off his stool at the sight of her.

“Are you stalking me now?” he asked drily, regaining his composure as she laughed in his face.

“Please-you should be so lucky. I’m here for a drink and some peace and quiet, just like you.”

“And until a moment ago I thought I’d found it,” he grumbled.

“Can I get a Corona?” she called to the bartender, ignoring Powell.

“Don’t serve her,” Powell instructed him. “She’s under age.”

The bartender winked. “Hey, buddy, I won’t tell if you won’t.” He slid a bottle down the bar toward Kaia. “On the house, beautiful.”

“You must be pretty used to getting exactly what you want,” Powell said in disgust.

“Pretty much,” she agreed.

“You’re fighting a losing battle this time.”

“You think this is me fighting?” She shook her head. He could be so cute when he was being clueless. “Please-this is me on low gear, getting a drink. It’s just good luck we two lonely hearts happened to run into each other.”

“And you just happened to be wearing… practically nothing?” he asked sardonically, gesturing toward her barely-there silk top.

“So you noticed,” she said with pleasure, running her fingers lightly along her bare breastbone. “And here I thought it was just my imagination, your staring at my chest all the time.”

“It’s a bit difficult not to, with your shoving it in my face like that.”

“Jack, Jack, Jack.” She shook her head ruefully. “You can insult me all you want. I’m not leaving.”

“No, but I am.” He closed his book and stood up, slapping a ten-dollar bill down on the bar. “Thanks, Joey,” he called to the bartender.

“And where will you go?” Kaia asked. “Home? To sit alone in your pathetic little bachelor pad until you can force yourself to go to sleep? Or maybe to the library-would that be more your speed?”

“I’ll be quite happy to go anywhere you’re not,” he informed her. “Thanks for ruining my night.”

“I’m the best part of your night, and you know it. Or were you having more fun a few minutes ago, sitting here alone in this cellar, mooning over your beer like a drunken poet?”

“Fun doesn’t seem to be in my vocabulary these days,” he admitted with a dispirited sigh. “This isn’t the town for it.”

“You’re just not looking hard enough, Mr. Powell.” She put her finger softly to his lips and raised her other hand to his temple-and for once, she noticed, he didn’t twist away. “Stop talking, for once, and open your eyes.”

He raised his hands and gently removed hers from his face. But he let them linger in his grasp for a moment too long, and it was she who broke contact first-but not before raising one of his hands to her lips and grazing his knuckles with a gentle kiss.

He pulled away quickly.

“I’m seeing things pretty clearly right now,” he said sharply. “And I can see that it’s time for me to go.” He slipped out of the bar and Kaia sat down again, sipping her Corona thoughtfully.

He could run-but he couldn’t hide.

Kaia would always know where to find him.

It seemed the farther they got from the festival-and from Kane-the better things were. By the time they got back to Adam’s house, Beth was smiling, a look of glazed contentedness on her face. Maybe it was just the slow descent from a cotton candy sugar high-but whatever the reason, Adam thought as she snuggled close to him, he’d take it.

“It’s such a nice night,” she said, taking his hand as she climbed out of the car. “I almost hate to go inside.”

He checked his watch. There was only an hour left before her curfew, not enough time to go anywhere, but…

“How about we go around back,” he suggested. He led her into the backyard and over to the large, flat rock that lay on the dividing line between his house and Harper’s. He and Harper had played there when they were little and always-even these days-considered it “their” place. He snuck a guilty glance up at Harper’s bedroom window, which overlooked the yard. She wouldn’t mind-she would, in fact, never know.

Beth clambered up atop the rock and lay back on it, spreading her arms and looking up at the clear, starry sky.

“You could lose yourself in the stars,” she sighed. “Out here, in the dark, you could forget the whole world, and just-be.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Adam said, lying down next to her. “I could lose myself in you.” He took her face in his hands and turned it toward him gently, kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her soft, smooth lips. She brushed her blond hair away from her face and pulled him closer to her, tangling her legs in his. The smooth rock surface was cool beneath his skin, but she was so warm, throbbing with heat as she grazed the lines of his body and began to rub the bare skin beneath his shirt.

“I’m sorry I was so… I’m sorry about tonight,” she murmured.

“It was nothing. Forget it,” he assured her, cradling her in his arms.

“I’m just stressed-there’s so much to do, and no time, and-”

“Shh.” She was trembling in his arms, and he put his hand to her cheek, then ran his fingers across her lips. “It’s okay. I know. It’ll be okay.”

“I miss you,” she whispered.

“We just need to make it through the SATs,” he suggested. “And then maybe you can take a break for a while. We can take a break, focus on us. No stress, no SATs, no homework. Just us.”

“It sounds perfect,” Beth sighed. “I can’t wait.” She lay her head on his chest. “I could just lie here forever, listening to you breathe.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and began softly massaging her back, rubbing and kneading her taut muscles, her tender skin.