Castles On The Sand Part 30

"What do you want?" Those words come out defiant, angry. Why am I angry with Alex?

Rather than pull back, he steps closer and touches his lips to my forehead. He takes his time, and when I don't flinch away, he moves to kiss my temple, his thumb tracing a line down the side of my throat. He steps closer still, until our bodies touch and he presses me gently against the door as he kisses my closed eyelid, my cheek, the tip of my nose.

I lift my hands with the half formed intention of pushing him away. He's messing with me. He's figured out how I feel about him and is just going to use me. But my hands grasp his waist instead. I want, so badly, for this to be real.

He slides his arm behind the small of my back, pressing me even closer to him, as he tilts my head to one side and touches his lips to my neck. The sensation sends a tremor through me and my fingers tighten. His kisses move down to the hollow just above my clavicle, and I find my arms are around him now. I'm holding him, encouraging him. One hand I slide up his back to grasp his shoulder.

But still he takes his time, his mouth soft as a caress against my skin, then he pauses, breathing like he's just run up a flight of stairs. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears and fingertips. I lift my head and he moves his hand from my neck down to my hip. Our noses touch and I nuzzle him, taking my time now, gauging how he feels by his ragged breathing. My hand goes from his shoulder to the back of his neck, where I run the tips of my nails across his skin.

He sucks in his breath and I lean up to kiss him. The first time our lips touch, I break it off, but the second time, I relax and savor the sensation of his mouth on mine. His kisses are light, and I can't get enough of them. We kiss and kiss until I feel him gasp and realize I've barely let him breathe. "Sorry," I whisper.

"It's all right." He chuckles and leans his forehead against mine.

I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to come back to reality, where my best friend is in the hospital and my mother's on the verge of losing her mind and the most powerful people in town want me gone. I just want to be in this moment and never let it pa.s.s.

"You okay?" he whispers.

Tears streak down my face and I shake my head. "No."

"You want me to stop?"

"No." I tighten my hold on him.

He kisses my tears away, his arms around me, strong and secure. "Be with me?" The way he says it sounds like a confession of a long held secret.

I open my eyes. "You mean, like..."

"In a relationship. I want to be together."

"Oh." I sniffle. "You really think I'd kiss you and then say no thanks? You're the one who hasn't even acted interested."

He leans down to look me in the eye. "Gimme a break. I've got a criminal record. I a.s.saulted you in front of the school-"

"You apologized-"

"One minute I decide to try to be a better person and the next I've got the school hottie hanging around like she wants to spend time with me. There's no way I'd hit on her. Half the school would gang up and knock my teeth out."

"Alex."

"But I promise I'll treat you right. I'll be good to you. I'll make this work. I'd never hurt you." It takes me a moment to realize he's begging. He looks at me as if I'm the most beautiful girl he's ever seen and he's afraid. Vulnerable. As if rejection would feel like a knife in the chest.

"I already said yes."

He kisses me long and deep and leans his body against mine. My fingers brush the rough stubble on his jaw. When we come up for air, he nuzzles my ear and whispers, "You look amazing today."

"Today? Not a high fashion day for me."

"I know. You look like yourself." He touches his nose to mine. "And I'm making you late for work."

I startle at those words. He's right. I've got work. How long have I been here with him?

"Just, wait a minute," he whispers. He unzips his jacket.

For a confused moment, I wonder what he's doing, but once his jacket is off, he slips it around my shoulders. I find the arms and put it on while he rolls up the sleeves, like he used to when he wore it as a little kid. He zips it up the front and we kiss again. It feels natural now, save for the crackling excitement that surges through me wherever we touch.

JP made me feel desirable as a supermodel. Alex makes me feel like he'd walk past a line of supermodels without a second look, just for the chance to hold me, and now he's given me his jacket so the whole world will know that he wants me to be with him and no one else.

The jacket smells like him, like sandalwood and Tiger Balm and musk. I press the collar to my face and inhale, then smile. He looks down at me like he expects me to suddenly realize what I've agreed to and panic. I won't. He's stuck with me now. I dig in one pocket of the jacket and hand him his cell phone. In the other, I find his lighter and run my thumb over "Alexander W. Katsumoto".

"None of my business," I say, "but who gives a teenager a monogrammed lighter?" I hand it to him.

"Yeah, good question. It came with a business card holder and a keychain-" he tugs his keys out of his jeans pocket with a jangle and holds them up for a split second "-so I guess it's supposed to be something I use at a cigar lounge, while meeting with clients or... I dunno." He puts his keys away. "My great uncle sent it to me. I'm thinking he got it out of a catalog and didn't really understand the description. He doesn't speak much English."

That makes me feel bad for joking about it, but Alex doesn't seem to mind. He lets me go and I open the door to go get my jacket from where I slung it over a chair in the kitchen. As I dig in the pockets, I'm immediately self conscious of how much junk I allow to acc.u.mulate. I elect not to pick through all the used tissues in front of him, and instead just feel around for anything solid.

My fingertips touch smooth paper and I pull it out, unfold it, and find I'm staring at the rent forbearance letter. Alex pointedly looks away and I fold it up and stick it in the pocket of Alex's jacket, even though I know I need to be more careful about being such a pack rat now that I'm wearing an irreplaceable heirloom. I retrieve my cellphone, and then together we head out the door.

I show up at the library, late, with my arm around Alex. I know what this looks like, which is to say, it looks exactly how it is. While I try to think of witty responses to, "How was school?" I fail to notice that Mr. Beale's car is parked out front.

Alex gives me another kiss on the forehead and whispers, "See you later," before letting me go.

I step inside.

"-just wanted to ask you some questions," Mr. Beale is saying. "Given we're going to re-evaluate whether or not we think the library is a good use of munic.i.p.al funds."

Siraj looks over at me, his gaze lingering on Alex's jacket. "How was school?" he asks.

"Fine."

"Madison," says Mr. Beale.

"You're going to shut down the library?" I say.

"Now, now. We're just talking."

"You want me gone so bad that you'd take away my job?"

"I didn't say-"

"I can work other places, all right? Leave Siraj alone."

Mr. Beale shrugs as if I'm talking nonsense. "I should leave," he says. "We'll talk later."

I watch him exit, then turn back around.

Siraj rubs his forehead. "You usually talk to a Munic.i.p.al Councilor like that?"

"What? I just asked him what he was doing."

"I think you made him angrier."

"There anything I can say at this point that will make him less angry?"

"For you, this may be just a boring after school job with a computer to send email from, but this is my career. The only one I've got."

"I know." It's the first time I've ever seen him upset, so I don't even go to take my seat. Instead I stay by the door, arms folded as if this puts a little extra distance between me and his fury.

"The family I told you about, my aging father and two disabled sisters, guess who supports them? You know what the economy's like."

I nod. "I'm sorry."

But Siraj's resting his head in his hands now, and takes a few deep breaths. "What's all this about? Why is he angry with you?"

"Did you hear what happened to Kailie?"

"Rumors. She attempted suicide?"

"Yeah, and when the 911 responders came to get her, they saw that her parents had taken her furniture and stuff. Maybe they could tell she'd been starved, I don't know."

"And let me guess, you spoke up and told them all about how badly they treat Kailie?"

"It's evidence they can get from anyone who knew her, like teachers, or even just Officer Li who saw her room. I'm the scapegoat."

"I've never understood, why are you friends with their daughter? She's behaved abominably towards you."

"Sometimes, yeah."

"So why be her friend? You talk back to her father, but never to her. She's why your face got kicked in. What's it take to lose your friendship? And why, might I ask, are you now involved with the psycho who smashed a police car right in front of this library just a few weeks ago? There are nice people in this town, nice teenagers at your school."

"Kailie doesn't have anyone else."

"Yes, but there's a reason for that. It's called letting someone take the consequences. It's a lot better than shifting the consequences onto other people, such as me." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to imply that you shouldn't tell the truth if anyone asks for it. Of course you should do the right thing."

"I can quit my job here. I'll go work somewhere else. This doesn't have to involve you at all."

"Anywhere you work in this town, the Beales can get to you. Any business in town will need something from the Council. So yes, you can leave me out of it, but you'll be asking someone else to become a target, and since you don't drive, you're stuck working in Pelican Bluffs, and since your mother's art isn't in the gallery anymore-"

"How do you know about my mother?"

"I may joke about never talking to anyone, but I do pay attention. I know what happens. I hear things."

I go to sit in my chair, and notice how frail Siraj looks. "Can you think of anything I could say that would make Mr. Beale back down?"

"I don't know. That's why I deal with his wife to get matters before the Munic.i.p.al Council. He's stubborn."

"I can be stubborn."

"I'm sure you can."

"I broke into their house to rescue Kailie."

"Think they'll sue you for that too?"

"I just mean to say that I do stick my neck out sometimes. I can. It's not like I'm all helpless."

"I never meant to imply that you were."

"So if you know the town, tell me who can stand up to the Beales. I can pretty much guarantee I've been nice to them."

He gives me a watery smile, acknowledging this point. "Well, you know the power dynamic. Greg and Arlene Beale each have a vote on the Council and they control Meagan Romero, who runs the art gallery that they own."

"Right."

"I'm not sure there is anyone with leverage over them other than the people who've taken Kailie away. They've got all the proverbial cards. They've got her."

"Yeah, well I talked to the social worker about him and she suggested I get a restraining order, but I don't think that's really going to help. Besides, it's not like I can suggest they not release Kailie until her father stops being mean to me. Forget family stuff. Who can strongarm him politically or economically?"

"No one, unless you can divine who's on the board of the Wilkstone Foundation."

I think of the letter in my pocket. "Why?"

"Well, they own all of the bluffside commercial property. All the businesses on Ridge Road lease their facilities from them."

"No way. They'd be making money hand over fist."

"And they do. You don't know this? The Foundation created this town. They're the reason your home even exists because Roger Wilkstone believed that Pelican Bluffs should be a real community. A place where the people who worked menial jobs, like pumping gas or waiting tables, should be able to live, run for the Munic.i.p.al Council, and have a say."

"How do you know this?"

"I met someone who knew him once. That's about as close to the Wilkstones as I've ever heard of anyone getting. You notice there's no one by that name here in town. I don't mean to sound jaded, but I've always wondered if Mr. Wilkstone's beliefs about how the town should be run sounded good in theory, but he didn't want to live here in reality."

I pull out my rent forbearance letter and unfold it.

Siraj sees the letterhead and says, "Is it signed?"

"No." I'm staring at the note at the bottom that reads, "cc: LLW, RMW, AWK, JDW". I fold the letter up again. "Okay, so if we can't find a Wilkstone-"

"Or someone from their board."

"Or someone from their board, then I can think of only one other higher power that might mean anything to Mr. Beale."

"And that would be?"

"They're religious."

"While I agree with you that seeing G.o.d may be more likely than finding a Wilkstone, you do realize it is quite rare."

"They've got a scripture reference enshrined in their house. It's a longshot, but I want to look it up."