we’ll take care of Alex first.” Pointing, I say, “Let’s go scheme where we’re not out in the open. My boat’s parked down that way.”
Immediately Lillia says, “No way, Kat.”
“You still haven’t learned to swim yet, Lil?” I tease.
She flushes. “I just don’t see the point.”
“It’ll be safer if we talk on the water,” I say. “No chance of anyone overhearing us.”
Lillia rolls her eyes and unfolds her arms to gesture around. “Who’s going to hear us?”
Lillia Cho. Always thinks she knows best. “Lots of rich old men bring their mistresses here,” I say. “And also, security. And cops. I mean, if you’re willing to risk getting arrested, I—”
“Maybe you should have picked a better place,” Lillia snarks back.
“Let’s just go to the boat,” Mary says. “I mean, we’re here now.”
“Fine,” Lillia groans.
I lead the way along the dock, with the moon at my back. Mary’s next to me, and Lillia a few steps behind.
As we walk, my mind is racing with possibilities. How we can do this, what will be the best way to get started. I’ve already given it some thought, just in case Lillia did show up tonight. But now that Mary’s in the mix too, I’ve got to make a few quick adjustments. All I know is that I have to seem prepared, for Lillia’s sake, to put her mind at ease. That girl is as skittish as a cat in a thunderstorm. One hiccup and she’ll bolt.
When Mary asks me if I own one of these boats, pointing at the souped-up yachts, I barely hear her. She has to ask me again. Shaking my head, I say, “Not exactly.”
Because I work at the club, I get to park my boat for free. But not here with these boats, obviously. Mine’s tied up back behind the gas pumps on an older stretch of dock where my boss keeps his junkers, the broken old boats he’s bought cheap to strip for parts.
“Be careful,” I tell them. “The planks along this dock are half-rotted, and there’s lots of rusted nail heads poking up throughthe cracks. I think I still have a splinter stuck in my heel. This jerk pulled his yacht in too fast and made a wake so big that it rocked me right off my boat.”
“That sucks,” Mary says.
I nod. “And he barely even said sorry. Rich people never say sorry.”
Lillia rolls her eyes but keeps her mouth shut.
I take the tarp off my Catalina daysailer, fold it up, and put it in the hatch. It’s been a while since I’ve had it out on the water. Maybe not even since June, which is crazy. But the thing is, Alex and I would always hang out on his boat, because it had a fridge to keep our drinks cool and leather bucket seats that reclined, and an amazing stereo system. For some weird reason I feel guilty about this. About forgetting who I was before I met him. The things that used to be important to me. Fixing up my boat, hanging out with my real friends. I never thought I’d be one of those girls, those girls that compromise who they are just for a guy. Especially some two-timing wannabe player like Alex Lind.
“Get in,” I say, hooking my floodlight up to the battery. It sends a bright beam out through the night, lighting up the caps of the waves. Perfect.
Lillia takes one step on board and freezes as the boat sways. Then she hops off like a scared bunny rabbit. She almost backs right into Mary, who looks nervous too. Crossing her arms, Lillia says, “Let’s just talk out here.”
Laughing, I say, “I’ve been sailing ever since I was old enough to turn the steering wheel on my own, for God’s sakes! I feel safer driving this than a car.”
“I said I’m not getting on that thing,” Lillia snaps. “Either we talk out here or I leave.”
Under my breath I mutter “Diva,” unhook my floodlight, and then join them on the dock.
The three of us sit in a semicircle.
It hits me right then that I’ve already won. Because Rennie’s best friend is sitting here right now, pledging to help me take her down. And Alex is going to get his, too. I
Immediately Lillia says, “No way, Kat.”
“You still haven’t learned to swim yet, Lil?” I tease.
She flushes. “I just don’t see the point.”
“It’ll be safer if we talk on the water,” I say. “No chance of anyone overhearing us.”
Lillia rolls her eyes and unfolds her arms to gesture around. “Who’s going to hear us?”
Lillia Cho. Always thinks she knows best. “Lots of rich old men bring their mistresses here,” I say. “And also, security. And cops. I mean, if you’re willing to risk getting arrested, I—”
“Maybe you should have picked a better place,” Lillia snarks back.
“Let’s just go to the boat,” Mary says. “I mean, we’re here now.”
“Fine,” Lillia groans.
I lead the way along the dock, with the moon at my back. Mary’s next to me, and Lillia a few steps behind.
As we walk, my mind is racing with possibilities. How we can do this, what will be the best way to get started. I’ve already given it some thought, just in case Lillia did show up tonight. But now that Mary’s in the mix too, I’ve got to make a few quick adjustments. All I know is that I have to seem prepared, for Lillia’s sake, to put her mind at ease. That girl is as skittish as a cat in a thunderstorm. One hiccup and she’ll bolt.
When Mary asks me if I own one of these boats, pointing at the souped-up yachts, I barely hear her. She has to ask me again. Shaking my head, I say, “Not exactly.”
Because I work at the club, I get to park my boat for free. But not here with these boats, obviously. Mine’s tied up back behind the gas pumps on an older stretch of dock where my boss keeps his junkers, the broken old boats he’s bought cheap to strip for parts.
“Be careful,” I tell them. “The planks along this dock are half-rotted, and there’s lots of rusted nail heads poking up throughthe cracks. I think I still have a splinter stuck in my heel. This jerk pulled his yacht in too fast and made a wake so big that it rocked me right off my boat.”
“That sucks,” Mary says.
I nod. “And he barely even said sorry. Rich people never say sorry.”
Lillia rolls her eyes but keeps her mouth shut.
I take the tarp off my Catalina daysailer, fold it up, and put it in the hatch. It’s been a while since I’ve had it out on the water. Maybe not even since June, which is crazy. But the thing is, Alex and I would always hang out on his boat, because it had a fridge to keep our drinks cool and leather bucket seats that reclined, and an amazing stereo system. For some weird reason I feel guilty about this. About forgetting who I was before I met him. The things that used to be important to me. Fixing up my boat, hanging out with my real friends. I never thought I’d be one of those girls, those girls that compromise who they are just for a guy. Especially some two-timing wannabe player like Alex Lind.
“Get in,” I say, hooking my floodlight up to the battery. It sends a bright beam out through the night, lighting up the caps of the waves. Perfect.
Lillia takes one step on board and freezes as the boat sways. Then she hops off like a scared bunny rabbit. She almost backs right into Mary, who looks nervous too. Crossing her arms, Lillia says, “Let’s just talk out here.”
Laughing, I say, “I’ve been sailing ever since I was old enough to turn the steering wheel on my own, for God’s sakes! I feel safer driving this than a car.”
“I said I’m not getting on that thing,” Lillia snaps. “Either we talk out here or I leave.”
Under my breath I mutter “Diva,” unhook my floodlight, and then join them on the dock.
The three of us sit in a semicircle.
It hits me right then that I’ve already won. Because Rennie’s best friend is sitting here right now, pledging to help me take her down. And Alex is going to get his, too. I
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