Ultra Violet Part 7

The girl made a face. "They'd be worth more if we'd won. They're going on sale next week anyway. I guess I could sell one to you for twenty," she said reluctantly.

I quickly pulled out the cash and forked it over. As soon as I had my prize I dragged it over my head, running the rest of the way to my car. This sweatshirt was navy blue with a red and white sailboat over the left breast, Lakesh.o.r.e's colors.

I was barely behind the wheel when the Taurus whizzed by, traveling fast toward Lake Chinook proper. I had to jockey the wagon as I'd been boxed in pretty tightly, but my turning radius is about the best thing on my car and I was after the Taurus in less than a minute. I had to push the speed limit, which is dangerous in the heavily patrolled area around Lake Chinook. I swear to G.o.d they've got more traffic cops per square mile than's legal.

I caught up with the Taurus in the center of town. At this particular intersection two lanes are forced to turn south, so I pulled up right next to the car, both of us ready to make the turn, and slid a sideways look at them. They were on my left side and the girlfriend was in the pa.s.senger seat. Her boyfriend was in the back, leaning forward, his head between the bucket seats. The driver's eyes were on the road. She was disengaged from the goings-on, but her friends either didn't notice or didn't care.

To my good, and bad, luck, they drove all the way around Lakewood Bay and took the turn off on Beachlake Drive. I was pretty sure this was the road across the bay from Dwayne's cabana. I didn't follow them onto Beachlake as the road's kind of a boxed canyon, and I didn't want to have to turn around where they could see me. Also, I wanted some time to pa.s.s to allow the members of the football team to join the party. I kept on going up McVey, then parked in a deserted parking lot. Nearly an hour later, I drove down Beachlake and past the houses in Dwayne's sights, trying to figure out which was which from this view. It's surprisingly hard to tell. The lakeside view is vastly different than the street-facing facades. However, Do Not Enter was easy, the entry staked out by a temporary electrical pole and a Honey-pot Porta Potti. From there I could count back and match the lakeside view to the street frontage. I should've paid more attention to the house colors, but I got it figured out in the end.

I saw taillights winking red down the lane to Do Not Enter's construction site and could just make out the house's plywood and black Visqueen covered roof. A black Jimmy with the license plate DOINOU sat cheek to jowl with the red Taurus. It took me a moment; then I got it. The license plate was an abbreviated acronym for Do I know You?

Hmmm.

I didn't think I could crash the party. I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I parked the Volvo down Beachlake a ways, hoping I wouldn't get rear-ended or sideswiped as there wasn't much of a shoulder, then walked back. I had this nebulous plan about acting like I was a senior at Lakesh.o.r.e. Would the fact that I was their rival eject me from the group? I knew better than to try to pretend I attended Lake Chinook High. And what if they asked me why I looked so old?

With that in mind, I pulled my hair into two pigtails like the Wilson girl, one on either side of my head. I didn't dare look in a mirror because I was afraid I'd scare myself. I didn't have any cute bows to add to the "look," but I didn't think it would matter. I put my cell phone on vibrate, slung my purse strap over my shoulder, then walked from my car to the party. Another car pulled into the drive as I approached, and a young guy glanced out his window at me. I smiled shyly and waved and he slowed to a stop and rolled down the window.

"You guys played good tonight," he said, checking out my sweatshirt. "Just not good enough." He grinned.

"Well, you know, Keegan was just so great."

"Yeah, he is. Surprised you guys don't hate his guts."

So Keegan was on the Lake Chinook High team. I hadn't been sure. "Well, you know," I said with a shrug of my shoulders.

"You here with anybody?"

"Nah...I..." I looked down the road. "My best friend and her boyfriend are fighting, and I kinda wanted out of the car. I've been walking around." I shrugged a bit woefully. "Maybe they forgot me."

"Where do you live?"

"Actually, I don't go to Lakesh.o.r.e. I'm just staying with my dad," I improvised, waving toward the north. "Just got the sweatshirt for fun." This was a better idea all the way around. Sometimes I awe myself with my inspired lying.

"Hey, well..." He looked down the drive. "We got a party going. What school you go to?"

"Sunset," I said, pulling out the name of a Beaverton high school.

He was already past that and onto other things. "Well, get in. I'm not a psycho. Or you can walk down the driveway but it's wet."

"I'll get in," I said, heading around the front of his car and climbing into the pa.s.senger seat. I don't carry a gun and I'm kind of a wimp, but I'd picked up a rock on the way and my fist closed around it inside the pocket of my sweatshirt. My first instinct is always to flee, but if someone attacks me I'm going to come out swinging. This kid looked like he weighed about a hundred pounds. I thought I had a good chance.

But he simply drove me down a long, curving gravel driveway that opened up in front of the construction zone. Several cars were angled around. We parked next to the red Taurus. I climbed out as another car pulled up behind us. I could see that pretty soon there would be no backing out unless the cars behind moved first. It was interesting, however, as I saw no one parked behind DOINOU. "Who's got the Jimmy?" I asked my friend.

"Keegan. Of course." He smiled. "Don't want to p.i.s.s him off."

"Guess not," I said.

"I'm Brett."

"Ronnie. Short for Veronica."

We shook hands. I have this alias I trot out whenever I can, Veronica Kellogg. I know it's best to use an alias similar to your own name so you respond to it correctly, and I did all right with the Kellogg part-not too far from Kelly. But Veronica is nothing like Jane and I don't care. So sue me. I like Veronica.

I could tell Brett was warming to me. I wondered what his social status was, and why he seemed so eager to include me. Maybe it's that I'm older and have a strong sense of self-preservation, something missing during the teen years, but I never include people into my life so quickly. Maybe I would've in high school, but looking back, I don't think so. I'm just naturally suspicious.

Or maybe he was one of the guys Dwayne wanted to nail. Maybe his affability was all an act.

The car behind us unloaded five kids and they tromped up to us, loudly reliving the game, loving the fact they'd beaten Lakesh.o.r.e. Spying my sweatshirt, they all had something to say to me, mostly about how Lakesh.o.r.e sucked and Lake Chinook was the best, all the while eyeing me as if, as the enemy, I might suddenly whistle to a hidden army and take them out in a giant, b.l.o.o.d.y melee.

Brett explained how I was visiting my dad and that I'd just picked up a Lakesh.o.r.e sweatshirt for fun. One of the guys, Glen, long-haired and kinda dopey looking, instantly stripped off his Lake Chinook sweatshirt and handed it to me. It was about two sizes too big, but he insisted I wear it. I traded my Lakesh.o.r.e one for it and was horrified to watch the group of them drag it through the mud puddles surrounding Do Not Enter until it was crusted with brown goop; then Glen balled it up and hurled it skyward where it unfurled to catch in a thin overhead limb of a bare-leafed maple. The group of them all saluted it with their middle fingers, stumbling around. I figured they'd been imbibing awhile. I was burning inwardly. I'd paid good money for that shirt and now I had Glen's castoff, the arms of which hung to my knees. I scrunched them up and pretended to think it was a great joke. If Glen thought he was getting his shirt back, he could d.a.m.n well think again.

It turned out most of the kids normally wouldn't be caught dead in school rah-rah gear, but on game day anything went. The rule wasn't that much different from when I was in school. Half of them wore the light blue and white colors of their school; half were in black and denim, the tacit colors of general teen acceptance. They also were about the only two colors that were safe for outdoor use in rainy Oregon weather. Forest green and navy can work, too, but tonight the kids were all about black jackets and jeans.

I picked Keegan out without any trouble. He sat on a tree stump someone had hauled inside the house, situated at the end of the room. This would be either Do Not Enter's living room or great room. A string of red lights wrapped around the two-by-fours that made up the wall behind him. I could see the heavy-duty extension cord they'd jerry-rigged to the temporary power pole located at the far end of the drive. Must have been sixty feet long. A half rack of beer was being watched like a hawk by a thin boy with lank, dark hair that fell in his face. He looked out of the locks with a grim, dark-eyed stare. I had to fight the urge to tuck the strands behind his ears. It made me keep wiping imaginary strands of hair from my own face.

Keegan wore a black jacket over a black shirt, thick denim trousers and work boots. The other kids wore work boots, too. This appeared to be a fashion statement as I doubted any of them had jobs in the great outdoors or anywhere else. Keegan was coolly smoking, dragging smoke into his lungs, then dropping his arm to lazily flick ash onto Do Not Enter's plywood floor. Bad form all around, especially for QB One. I wondered what transpired on Monday mornings when the construction workers came on the job and found the evidence.

That question was answered when a subservient female minion made it her job to clean up after Keegan and the others whenever they were involved in other pursuits. She kept darting in to clean up or disguise the evidence, rubbing mud over the ash, picking up cigarette b.u.t.ts and empty bottles or cans. Very interesting caste system they had going. The men-at least some of them-were the rulers. Like Dwayne, I found the guys in charge disturbing. A better-than-thou att.i.tude percolated from Keegan on down, and it felt like there was some big secret, some inner joke, that escaped the rest of us but fueled the amus.e.m.e.nt of the elite guys at the top of the pyramid.

I didn't like it one bit.

The talk centered on the game. The Keegan worshipers kept bringing up his best plays. I learned his last name was Lendenhal and that he'd broken a few school football records already and was expected to break them all.

"You want a beer?" Brett asked me. He'd settled us to one corner, cross-legged on the cold plywood, then gone in search of refreshments. Now he handed me a can of Bud, which I opened and sipped at, wondering how many laws I was breaking by drinking with a slew of minors. I hadn't bought them the stuff, but I thought that might be a technicality if we were raided. I got a shiver all over as I pictured Officer Newell's frowning face, and could practically hear him saying, "I'm disappointed in you, Jane Kelly," right before he cuffed me and hauled my a.s.s off to the Clackamas County Jail.

I suspected claiming I was working undercover wouldn't cut it.

The answer, then, was to not get caught. To that end I searched the faces of the knots of kids, hoping to find the driver of the Taurus. She didn't seem to be in the "house." I thought she might be on the grounds, maybe down by the lakesh.o.r.e. There was a stairway leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt, which was an OSHA nightmare-no rails, rickety boards slammed up by a carpenter to gain basic access, no lighting-but my bigger problem was how to extract myself from Brett. Because he'd introduced me to the group I was apparently now officially his.

To underscore this, Brett slipped an arm over my left shoulder, his hand and arm hanging over loosely. Golly, gee whiz, it looked like we were on the verge of being a couple, at least for the evening.

"So, you go to Lake Chinook High," I said, feeling the need for conversation. "What grade are you in?"

"I'm a junior," he said, belching loudly. He really threw himself into it, in fact, and as soon as it was heard, it started a volley of belching from all the strutting roosters.

"Shut the f.u.c.k up," Keegan said without heat, and the immediate silence was deafening.

"So, you're seventeen?" I asked. Great. Just great. He wasn't even an adult.

"Just about. Next February. How about you?"

Sixteen. My heart sank. "A senior," I murmured.

"You eighteen?" he asked.

"Yep."

"I thought you looked older."

"Yeah?"

"Just something about you," he said. He tilted his head and gazed at me thoughtfully. "You seem...wise."

"Huh." I inclined my head toward the stairs. "Wanna go down to the lake?"

"Brrrr. No. Much better here."

"I'm kind of ready to take a walk," I said, easing from beneath his arm. The d.a.m.n thing was like a lead weight.

"Oh, come on," he said grouchily, trying to struggle to his feet.

"I'll be right back," I promised, easing away.

He let me go but he didn't look happy. It didn't seem like many of the girls argued with these guys. I couldn't get it. What did they see in them? Most of them were the kind of guy I've avoided my entire life: self-important, narcissistic, nefarious and self-serving. I sensed it in that age-old way men and women have possessed since the beginning of time. I wasn't safe here. Brett might not be one of the true baddies, but if mob mentality prevailed, he would side with Keegan. I had no doubt.

I felt my way down the stairs and through the hazards of the lower level of construction. Chunks of wood had been tossed around. Lots of nail heads showed on the subfloor, dark spots visible in the uncertain red light that glowed through cracks from the upper floor. The only other illumination was from a three-quarter moon fighting off fast-moving clouds.

As I stepped onto the back grounds I listened to the low moaning of wind through nearby trees, the soft lap of water against the sh.o.r.e and the metallic clang of a flagpole's tethering chain. I glanced over to the Pilarmos' yard. They not only possessed a wolf dog and a menagerie of plastic lawn ornaments, they proudly displayed the Italian flag, now fluttering madly in the stiff night breeze. Either the flag was a new addition, or, more likely, I hadn't paid near enough attention while looking through Dwayne's binoculars. It occurred to me I'd focused way too much attention on Tab A and Slot B, but then, there was a lot to see there.

Three figures stood at the water's edge. The three friends from the Taurus, I determined, as I walked toward them. I kept about thirty feet between us; didn't want them to think I was horning in. But the girlfriend and guy were still all over each other. She of the giggles, he of the roving hands. Both hands were beneath her sweatshirt as he gave her a series of kisses on her mouth, cheeks and neck. She just kept right on giggling.

The other girl kept moving away from them. She was about as far as she could go, nearly pressed up against Social Security's chain-link fence. I gave a glance over to their house. A yellow outdoor light was the only sign of human habitation. The place could have been abandoned for all the life it showed.

I was still trying to figure out how to start a conversation when the kissing couple b.u.mped into their friend, nearly knocking her off her feet. She caught herself before she slipped, said, "G.o.d, you guys. Stop it," then huffed around to my side.

Giggler singsonged, "Sorreee..."

The boy was too busy rubbing himself against her as best he could to bother with a response. He was going to get as much body contact as he could before she shut him down, though she didn't seem even close to that yet.

Now the Taurus driver was only about five feet from me. I looked from her to the struggling couple. "They could fall right into the lake," I observed.

"I wish to G.o.d they would," she said with feeling. "Judd is such a horndog."

"She doesn't seem to mind."

"Glory? Oh, she's just being stupid. She never goes all the way, though. I mean, she's not in love or anything," she added quickly.

"I'm Ronnie," I introduced.

"Hi." She'd been studying Glory and Judd, but now she shot me a quick look. "I'm Dawn."

"You go to Lake Chinook?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah." She gazed at my Lake Chinook sweatshirt. "You don't, though, do you?"

"Sunset," I said. "A senior."

"Oh. I'm a soph.o.m.ore." She shivered and pressed her chin into her neck, hunching her shoulders. "Where'd you get the sweatshirt?"

"A guy named Glen." I told her about my Lakesh.o.r.e one in the trees and how it had gotten there.

"Glen's a big dummy, but he's okay." She sniffed. "G.o.d, it's cold."

"I know. I gotta go home and get warm."

"Me, too, but I'll never get my car out."

"You need a ride?"

"No, I live just down the street. I shoulda parked at the house, but my parents get all weird when I come home just to leave again. So I'm stuck. Unless I get a chance to talk to Keegan." She glanced over her shoulder to the partially finished structure. I couldn't read whether talking to Keegan might be a good thing or a bad.

"What'll Keegan do?"

"Get 'em to move their cars. But it's kinda early. I don't know. I gotta be home by midnight, though."

"It's after eleven," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well..."

Glory and Judd stumbled and fell, not into the water, into the mud. Glory started shrieking for all she was worth and Judd shushed her loudly. "You'll wake the f.u.c.king neighbors!" he yelled.

Dawn ran over to them and motioned them both to be quiet. Glory was good and steamed about ruining her coat. Judd wanted to pick up where they'd left off, but Glory was over it. She came whining and swearing to Dawn, who immediately went into girl-protection mode.

My chance to really talk to Dawn was over. It had been unlikely she would confide her problems to me on first meeting anyway. I'd made contact and that was as far as it was going to go.

They headed for the stairs and I trooped up behind them. As I reentered the main room I saw that Brett had lopped his arm over another girl's shoulder. She'd leaned her head into his chest. Some of the other kids were coupled up as well. There was a tight group of young women near one wall. To a girl they'd either taken off their sweatshirts or unb.u.t.toned their black coats. Their backs were arched, their b.r.e.a.s.t.s projecting like arrows. All they needed was a "Touch me here" sign. Their collective attention rested on Keegan Lendenhal, who tortured them with the way he alternately sent them knowing looks, or ignored them completely. I felt his intense gaze skim over my body as if he were an MRI machine. I was mapped out and catalogued so fast it almost gave me a rush. Wow. This guy knew how to ratchet up the heat.

His teen magnetism was both scary and off-putting, but by G.o.d I felt it. I wondered who his parents were. If I were a religious person I might pray for them. This kid was serious trouble in a way I had yet to define, even to myself.

Judd, spurned, walked toward Keegan and said something in an aside. Keegan shot a look at Glory, who was still fighting tears over the ruination of her clothes. He reached inside his pocket and handed something to Judd. A packet? Drugs?

"Hey, you," Keegan said suddenly.

He was looking right at me. My heart squeezed. Did he know I'd been watching?

I pretended not to know he was addressing me. Instead I smiled at Brett, waved and said, "Gotta go. Thanks."

Brett gazed from me to Keegan, clearly unsure how to react. The girl he was with was now sprawled across his lap but his attention wasn't on her.

I headed down the plank that led from the front door to the ground, glanced up at the sweatshirt in the tree, then hurried away. I didn't look back until I was down the lane, nearly to the power pole. When I did, I saw that Keegan Lendenhal was standing in the open doorway, staring in my direction. Could he see me through the dark, from this distance? Impossible.

But I had the uncomfortable feeling he saw a whole lot more than I wanted to portray.

CHAPTER FIVE.