“It’s not what he’ll do inside the theatre that I’m worried about,” I said. “I plan on stopping it before it starts. I was already successful once. At a party last week.”
“Wright . . .”
“Hey, if I didn’t burst through that door, she would have been raped,” I said.
Terry’s eyes bugged out of his head.
“Yeah, that’s right. She was high on ecstasy, we think.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Gretchen and me.”
“So now she’s playing crusader, too?”
“Strength in numbers.”
“Is the girl all right?” Terry asked.
“Yes, thank God. I waved to her at school today, and she looked at me like she had no idea who I was. Apparently she remembers nothing from that night. Just as well. She’d probably be more messed up if she did.”
Terry sighed. “I told you to be careful. You think these guys won’t catch on to what you’re doing? Have you thought about consequences?”
“Nope. But they should. Once I collect all my data, they and their little slut club are history.”
“Taking it to the streets, huh?” Terry asked.
“You better believe it,” and I left the kitchen to greet my first customer.
***
Every girl goes to the bathroom right before a movie. We’re conditioned or something. I knew to expect Ashley between nine and 9:20. The movie she was seeing with Tim started at 9:30. I wasn’t worried at all about the time they spent in the theatre. I didn’t think he was that bold. But I was very worried about his plans for her after the show, and I thought I could scare her into ditching him and getting a cab home. I even brought cab fare for her in case she had no money.
I hovered over the sink pretending to fix my make-up. The mirror gave me a perfect view of girls coming and going without me having to turn around and check. And just like that, as I had expected, Ashley strolled through the door at 9:18. I let her use the bathroom before I said anything. She was washing her hands two sinks down from me when I spoke.
“You don’t know me from Adam,” I said to her. She reached for a paper towel. “But that guy you’re with is bad news.”
“Huh?”
“That guy you’re with is—”
“No no,” she interrupted. “What you said before. What does that mean?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That thing you said about Adam. Does Adam like me?” she asked, her face flushing a rosy pink.
Dear God.
“I mean. He’s never said it, but I’ve been giving him all the signs. You think he likes me?”
Who was she talking about?
“It’s an expression,” I said. “It’s just an expression meaning you don’t know me at all.”
“Oh.” Her face fell.
“But Adam might like you,” I said. “And he’d be a lot better than the jackass you’re on a date with right now.”
“How do you know I’m on a date with Tim?” she asked.
“I saw you, and I’m telling you, Ashley, the guy is bad bad news,” I said.
“Wait. How do you know my name?”
Shit. I was always doing that. Think quickly, Brooke.
“Didn’t you know you were popular? Like, everyone knows your name,” I said.
“They do?” Her eyes went wide in a dreamy kind of disbelief.
I felt awful.
“Sure. Now listen to me. I want you to get in a cab and go home,” I said.
“What?”
“Ditch him, Ashley.”
“Why?”
“Because . . . because Tim is seeing a whole lot of other girls. Not just you. He wouldn’t be faithful to you for two seconds,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t care about that,” she replied. “I plan on dropping him the second Adam looks my way.”
I stared at her.
“Okay, Ashley? It’s not just about Tim being unfaithful. He’s a bad guy. He does bad things to girls,” I said.
She looked intrigued. “Like bondage kind of stuff?” she asked. She leaned in close and whispered, “That’s okay with me. I’m kind of into it.”
What the fuck?
“No, Ashley,” I whispered back. “Like rape kind of stuff.”
She jumped back, eyes going wide again, but this time not in a dreamy state of disbelief. This time she was scared. I shouldn’t have said it. I mean, technically it wasn’t slanderous because it was true, but I didn’t want this airhead spreading it all over school.
“I think,” I said quickly. “Listen, I think he’s done it.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Not important. What’s important is that I don’t want anything to happen to you. So go home. Don’t talk to him over the phone or at school. Don’t mention me. Don’t say anything. Okay?” I knew it was wishful thinking, but I had to try.
She nodded.
“Ashley? I’m serious. When he calls you, do not answer. When you see him Monday—because it’s inevitable, you will see him Monday—tell him you can’t talk to him anymore. Don’t say why. Just do it. And then walk away. Understand?”
She nodded again.
“I’m gonna call you a cab,” I said. “Here’s money.”
She took it without speaking.
“Are you okay?” I asked, dialing the number for City Star Cabs.