“Oh my god!” he shrilled in a falsetto voice. He stuck the fingers of his right hand in his mouth, biting down in mock horror. The gesture was perpetual with him, offered in evidence of his irreverence. His hair was a shaggy mess, tufts sticking up in every direction. Like the finger-biting, his dark unkempt thatch was a signature look along with the devilish glint in his eyes. As was true with Poppy, Sloan had known him since kindergarten.
She could remember him in those early days. Bayard had been withdrawn, a lost little boy who kept his distance from everyone. He was an only child and his parents were in the process of a rancorous divorce. At the age of five, he was torn between the two, victimized by their tug-of-war as they vied for his loyalty. Within a year, his mother had won the point, whisking him off to Santa Fe and a better life, said she. That plan lasted until Bayard reached the age of twelve and began to rebel. Whether it was his conscious intent or not, he so alienated his mother that she deposited him back in her ex-husband’s life, surrendering all claim. Tigg Montgomery had re-enrolled Bayard at Climp, where the six-year absence rendered him exotic, a rakish misfit who still kept himself apart from the tight circle of his old friends.
Sloan sat down in the wicker settee, absurdly grateful to be in Bayard’s company. The dog settled at her feet. “Let’s not talk about Austin or school.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Anything. I heard your dad was sick.”
Bayard made a dismissive gesture and his tone was mild. “He’s not long for this world. I’m sure my mother will be thrilled. She’s hated his guts for years. Of course, my old man’s a shit, so why wouldn’t she?”
“I thought you got along with him.”
“I’m crazy about the guy and assumed the feeling was mutual. Shows how fucked up I am.”
“At least you know who he is, which leaves you better off than me. I’m a quote unquote bastard, which sounds ridiculous in this day and age.”
“What’s the story?”
“I have no idea. My mother refuses to tell me anything about my bio-dad.”
“How come?”
“It’s gotta be misguided loyalty or self-protectiveness. She lied to me the whole time I was growing up and when I finally found proof of it, she shut down entirely. Ask her now and she gets all teary and remote and then pours herself another drink.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know who he is. Maybe there were a lot of guys who could have been your dear old dad.”
“Not her. She’s not the promiscuous type. She’s careful with herself.”
“She might have been different back then. A romantic at heart. The guy might have been her one true love.”
“It doesn’t matter now. My stepfather turns out to be a great guy. Really he’s been incredible, especially in the face of her downhill slide.”
“When did she start to drink?”
“Who knows? He says she wasn’t drinking much when they met. A cocktail now and then, but she wasn’t perpetually shit-faced.”
Bayard shrugged. “Parents stink, you know that? My dad’s a magician. He gives with one hand and takes away with the other. Poof! Now you see it, now you don’t. Next thing you know, you’re screwed.”
“I don’t understand.”
He waved the question aside. “Not worth going into. Let’s just say now that he’s fading away, he wants to go back and make amends for stuff he pulled in the past.”
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“He can do anything he wants as long as he doesn’t take it out of my hide.”
“Why would his repentance have anything to do with you?”
“It doesn’t, to hear him tell it. He and my mother have batted me around for years. It’s like being a hot potato tossed from hand to hand. I’m tired of being shortchanged.”
“But you’ve been happy here, haven’t you?”
He shot her a cocky smile. “Who knows from happy? You gotta look after yourself. That’s all I know. No one else will do it, that’s for sure.”
He shook the ice in his cup, trying to determine how much of his drink was left. He took a long pull on the straw, draining half the contents. “You want some? Last chance.”
“What is it?”
“Bourbon and Coke.”
She made a face. “No, thanks.”
“Don’t blame you. Tastes disgusting, but it warms my heart, or what’s left of it at any rate.”
“You shouldn’t drink.”
“I shouldn’t do a lot of things, but here I am.” He set his cup at his feet, pulled his knees up, and rested his chin on his crossed arms. “Anyway, you’re the one who needs help.”
“I’ll survive. I’m already feeling better now that Austin isn’t sucking the life out of me.”
“Sorry turn of events, given you dated the guy. Aside from suffocating you, I bet he tried to get in your pants.”
She laughed. “How’d you know?”
Bayard’s tone was light. “He and I had a ‘thing.’”
Sloan said, “What do you mean, ‘a thing’?”
“What do you think I mean? Austin goes either way. He doesn’t care for the niceties. He likes the chase. He likes seduction. Then he gets bored.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
“Smart girl. He took up with you when he was done with me.”
“I’m sorry, Bayard. I had no idea. That must have been hurtful.”
“Hurting people is what he does. Are you wondering if I’m queer?”
“Don’t say that. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“It mattered to my mother. That’s why she washed her hands of me and dumped me on Daddy’s doorstep.”
“Shit. Does he know?”
“Oh god, no. That’s all I’d need. My dad’s a homophobe. He’s rabid on the subject. If Austin lets that cat out of the bag, I’ll be out on the street. Let’s not even talk about Dad’s money. He’d make sure I never got a dime. Which Austin well knows.”
“He’s threatened to tell your dad?”
“Sure. He says, ‘One phone call, Bayard. One phone call is all it takes.’ Then he holds up his finger like this and he doesn’t have to say another word. You know what’s pathetic? I’m still hung up on him. Just look at Fritz. He’s got a crush on the guy as well.”
“But if he outed you, wouldn’t he be implicating himself?”
“No one would dare say a word. The guy’s bulletproof. Kids are scared to death of him.”
“Hey, well, me too if you want to know the truth.”
“Sloan, I’m telling you, you’re stronger than he is. He hates you because he can’t dominate you. But here’s the point. He could be bluffing. For all we know, he’s a toothless old blowhard. A dickless wonder, so to speak.”
“Don’t look at me. I’m not going up against him.”
“Have you told your parents what’s going on?”
“I don’t have a choice. Someone scratched the word ‘snitch’ in the paint on Paul’s car. I’ll talk to him, but I don’t want to be labeled a tattletale as well as a fink. Same thing goes with school. If I tell Mr. Lucas or Mr. Dorfman, it’ll look like I expect them to step in. I might as well cut my own throat.”
Bayard dropped his gaze. “I can give you a way out.”
“How?”
“Ask Austin about the tape.”
“What tape?”
Bayard picked up his cup and rattled the ice. “He and Fritz and Troy had a little wingding with Iris, who was drunk and stoned. They screwed her brains out and put it all on tape. She’s lolling on the pool table, dead to the world, while Fritz and Troy horse around, sticking a pool cue up her twat. Your pal Austin was there, of course. He didn’t participate, but it was his idea. Ever the voyeur.”
“When was this?”
“Last weekend.”
“Are you serious?”