“I know I pissed you off last Saturday and I’m really sorry about that. I’m really sorry that we’ve ended up on opposite sides in somebody else’s war. The fact is, I’m not on a side. But I’ve only heard one. Side, that is. So how about this: tell me what I don’t know. Tell me what I don’t get. Then, let’s move on. Because whatever went down between Jordan and Jenny doesn’t have to do with us. And I’m interested in us. In you. I like you. I’d like to spend time with you.”
He had rehearsed, in his head, some version of this little speech. It comes out pretty close to what he intended. Maybe a little more heartfelt than it needs to be, but hell. He’s probably better off sounding more sincere than less.
He knows he’s taking a chance. A huge one. Not only in terms of rejection, which is a very real possibility, but in terms of opening his big mouth. Again. He’s not supposed to be talking about this, but he doesn’t see a way around it. If he wants to have anything to do with Haley, things need to be said.
He just has to be careful what those things are.
Haley buries her face in her hands. Not the reaction he was hoping for.
“Why,” she says, groaning, “do you have to make it so hard to hate you?”
A true green light of encouragement. He grins. “I’m that sort of guy.”
She lowers her hands. Looks exasperated. “This is way more complicated than you realize.”
“Actually, it’s not. Okay, the Jenny and Jordan thing is. That’s extremely complicated. But you and me? Very simple. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Girl . . . hopefully . . . likes boy? Boy and girl drink coffee, pick apples, maybe—”
She cuts him off. “Stop, Richard. Okay? I need a turn.”
He nods. Sits back.
Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath. “You’re right. We need to talk about this. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I can’t do.”
Yellow light. He waits for her to continue.
“The fact is, I’m involved. Jenny has asked me to be her advisor. It’s this support role, I don’t completely get it, but it means I have to go with her to a lot of meetings and be with her when she’s questioned. The biggest thing is that I can’t talk about it. Not any of it. Especially not to one of Jordan’s friends.”
He concentrates on his face. The expression he imagines playing out there. Don’t react, he wills his mouth, his eyes. But her words jolt him.
Jenny’s advisor.
Jordan’s friend.
He has to correct the record on that last one. Even though he’s supposed to be listening.
“Housemate,” he says. “Not friend.”
“Whatever,” she says. “He tells you stuff, right? I mean, he told you he hooked up with Jenny.”
“He’s a big talker, and most of it’s crap,” Richard says. “Like I said, who knows what really happened?”
“Even so. He did tell you, and you did repeat it to me, and I did react, and all of it is so, so totally not what I’m supposed to do. I probably shouldn’t even be at this table with you. I mean, think about it. What if the other night, Jordan had sat down with us, and Jenny walked into the Grille at the same time? This is . . . not possible.” Her eyes move to the exit. She seems poised to get up and leave.
He reaches across the table and places one hand over her wrist. He doesn’t grip, just lays his fingers there gently. She doesn’t jerk away.
“We can’t see each other until this thing is over,” she says quietly.
“I can’t accept that.”
“It’s worse than you know.”
“How? How can it be worse?”
“Now that the witness lists have gone out? Jenny’s getting harassed. While we were at breakfast this morning, someone wrote ‘Lying Bitch’ on our whiteboard.”
The earlier part of their conversation comes back to him now. First words out of her mouth. He pulls his hand away, having second thoughts. Like he placed a bet, but decides to yank the stack of chips off the table before the roulette ball settles.
“Wait a minute. Is that why you asked if I’d been by your room?”
The familiar flush spreads across her cheeks. “Someone saw a guy in a baseball cap writing on our board this morning.”
“And you assumed it was me? What the hell, Haley?” His raised voice turns heads.
“I assumed it was you before I knew what he wrote. I thought because I wasn’t answering your texts, you came by. Then, Jenny told me about the message and . . . I had to ask, Richard.”
“Really?” he says sarcastically. “Well, you know, I have to ask: what have I done to make you think I would ever . . . ever . . . do something like that?”
“Nothing,” she stammers. Her face is completely red. “That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
He stands. Stares down at her. Even Carrie, whose opinion of him was fairly low, had never insulted him like this.
“No, I’m sorry,” he says, and walks out.
. . .
They follow him along the edge of the room. They reach a table stacked with red cups. Bodies pack tightly at one end, as if the floor had tilted and the people all rolled together, like little metal balls in a handheld child’s toy. Exley shoulders through, clearing a path for them.
A plastic garbage can half--full of liquid reveals itself as the magnet. A tall boy fills red cups from the can and passes them to eager hands. Exley plucks two, dips, then extends them toward Tamra and Marliese. His eyes alight on Jenny.
“Want some punch?”
. . .
19
Haley