Katana (6 page)

“You can’t be serious.” I groaned as I pulled myself up into a sitting position. My body ached from spending the morning sprawled on our extremely expensive yet extremely uncomfortable couch. When the pills began taking effect, Quentin had offered to lead me to my room, but I’d been too lazy to venture off. And, boy, was I feeling the consequences.

Debbie frowned, jutting her bottom lip out in what I knew to be a well-practiced pout from her modeling days. “I don’t like the idea of you staying here alone. Besides, it’s family. They’re going to want to see you.”

I shook my head. “Forget it, Mom. There’s no way I’m going to a wedding today. I feel awful.”

Her face softened. “Are you alright?”

“I’m kind of achy, but I’ll live. I think I need to spend the day in bed. Where’s Q?”

“He said something about needing to check in at home, but said he’d be back around dinnertime.” Debbie looked thoughtful for a moment before she opened her sequined clutch and pulled out a small pink cell phone. “I better call Jason, just to make sure you’ll be okay on your own.”

I pulled the afghan over my shoulders. “Who’s Jason?”

She flushed crimson. “Oh, um, I mean Dr. Wendell.”

All traces of grogginess were gone. “You have his home phone number?”

“Cell phone, actually.” Debbie avoided my gaze as she dialed the number and walked out of the room.

I remained frozen. Just what had happened between Debbie and the doctor during coffee that they were now so close? From my spot on the couch, I couldn’t make out more than a word of two of her conversation. But then she laughed, the noise setting off a chord of unease that rippled across my shoulders.

Moments later I heard the snap of a cell phone shutting and Debbie was back in the living room. “He says you should stay in bed and rest.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s the expert medical advice? Good thing you called him. I was just about to go run a marathon.”

Debbie gasped. “Rileigh Hope Martin! I understand you don’t feel well, but that is no reason for you to take on such a nasty attitude. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Apology accepted. Now, I have my cell phone on me so if you need anything, you know to call me, right?”

“Got it.” She didn’t need to know that she was number two on my speed dial behind Quentin.

“Good. I want you to get plenty of rest today, and don’t wait up for me. I’ll probably be out late.”

No surprise there. After she left, I settled in as best I could into the stiff-as-a-board cushion and flipped the TV on to a Degrassi marathon. Exhaustion crept over me like a heavy blanket, and slowly I gave in to my drooping eyelids.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, but it felt like only minutes when the doorbell chime woke me.

I didn’t bother to open my eyes. “Mom, I already told you I’m not going!”

Debbie didn’t answer.

I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock on the DVD player; it was almost five. I’d been asleep for two hours.

There were several sharp raps against the front door.

Heaving a sigh, I lifted myself off the couch. As I drew closer to the door, I heard a muffled voice from the other side.

“One sec,” I called out, pulling my afghan tighter around my shoulders. I flipped the deadbolt, but stopped myself before I turned the knob. Hadn’t last night taught me anything? I dropped my hand and backed away from the door. “Who’s there?”

A male voice answered. “Whitley Noble.”

My heart did a backflip against my ribs. Whitley Noble?
The
Whitley Noble? The new student I’d spent the last semester lusting after was at my door? I reached for the knob, but stopped short when I caught a glance at myself in the hallway mirror. My hair had matted itself in a clump where I lay against the couch, sticking out at odd angles. I squealed in horror.

“Are you okay?” Whitley called from the other side of the door. The doorknob twisted under my fingers.

Panicked, I rammed the opening door shut with my shoulder and latched the deadbolt. “I’ll be right with you!” I called. Whitley Noble was on my porch and I looked like I’d stuck my hand in a light socket! I ran into my bedroom and frantically pulled a brush through my hair, not caring that I felt like I was ripping half of it out. Once I had it tied back into a sleek ponytail, I started to leave my room when I remembered that my sweatpants were wearing thin in the back seam. Since I didn’t want Whitley to know the color of my underwear, I ran to my closet and pulled out a clean pair of jeans, purple tank top, and black flip-flops. After I dressed, I grabbed my shiniest lip gloss from my vanity and slathered it on as I ran back to the door. I did a final check in the mirror before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Whitley raised his eyebrows in amusement. He was strikingly handsome, with an angled chin and razor-edged cheeks, like an Abercrombie ad brought to life. Which was weird, because the guys I typically went for were the grungy skater types. Whitley had more of that “I play polo and go yachting on the weekends” look. But, and I don’t know how he did it, he made it work without coming off as a jerk.

My heart spun in my chest, as if it were the wheel of a gerbil hopped up on Pixy Stix. What was Whitley doing here? It wasn’t like we’d ever talked before. But that didn’t matter. He was here now and this was my moment to make an impression. To show him what a smart and savvy girl I was. I opened my mouth but, apparently, the smart and savvy was out of the office. “Huh-eye.” I winced internally. Good thing awkward and stupid were more than happy to fill in. Why didn’t I just tell him, “Colors are pretty.” Or, “I like cake.” It was all I could do to keep from bashing my head against the wall.

Luckily, Whitley didn’t seem to notice my lack of socialization skills. He answered me with a boyish grin. “Hi.”

The dimples! I swallowed hard and barely managed to suppress a shudder of appreciation. I’d studied the dimples from afar during what Quentin called my “Whitley Watching Safaris” and often wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of such a smile. I now knew the effect was knee-weakening.

“So—” Whitley swept a hand through his shoulder-length blond hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“So?” I stared into his eyes. From this close, I could see that they were two shades of blue. Just like the ocean grew darker the deeper you waded, I knew if I wasn’t careful, I could fall in and sink.

“Um, can I come in?”

I snapped out of my trance. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. Yeah, come in.” I moved out of his way and fought the urge to smack my own forehead as he stepped inside. After I closed the door, I motioned him to the couch and positioned myself across from him on the loveseat. Putting some distance between us seemed like a good idea. I hoped it would lessen the effect he had on me so I wouldn’t embarrass myself further.

He cleared his throat and fidgeted with his green T-shirt. “I felt really bad when I heard what happened to you.”

My heart sank. The attack wasn’t a topic I wanted to discuss.

He seemed to sense my hesitation. “You don’t have to talk about it or anything. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I was at a loss for words. Whitley Noble not only knew who I was, but he cared about my well-being? It seemed too good to be true. Subtly, I reached down and pinched my thigh. The sharp pain assured me I was awake.

“I almost forgot!” Whitley’s face brightened as he reached for his back pocket. “I brought you something.” His smile faltered when he withdrew a wilted arrangement of daisies and carnations. Several yellow petals drifted lazily to his lap. His face reddened as he brushed them away with his hand. “They looked better earlier this morning. I tried to bring them to the hospital, but you’d already left.”

I took the pathetic arrangement, ignoring the petals that continued to fall. “I think they’re beautiful.”

Whitley smiled and relaxed back against the couch.

“It’s also very sweet of you to check on me.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. Before I found out what happened to you, I was really disappointed when you didn’t show up at the party last night.”

I swayed slightly, woozy from the extra heat burning up my neck and into my cheeks. “Really?”

“Yeah. You see, I was going to ask you something.”

I leaned forward. “What?”

He opened his mouth just as my phone on the coffee table lit up and played my favorite dance mix. I groaned inwardly and scooped it up.

He sighed. “To be continued?”

“Give me one minute.” I stood up. “Don’t go anywhere, promise?”

“Promise.” He gave me another sizzling smile.

The voice, like a winter breeze, blew through my mind.

He wants something.

Startled, the phone slipped from my grip and I juggled it from hand to hand before I steadied myself.
Please,
I silently begged the voice. Not now. Not with Whitley here.

“You okay?” Whitley asked, leaning forward.

Realizing I’d forgotten to breathe, I inhaled sharply. “Almost tripped on the rug.” I forced a chuckle. “Sometimes I can be such a klutz.” I wanted to scream.

His forehead pinched into lines of concern. “Uh, are you going to answer that?” He inclined his head to the still-singing phone in my hand.

Great. I hear one little voice in my head and my composure goes to hell. “Right! Phone!” I repeated, still laughing. I held my finger up to him and spun around before pressing the talk button. “Hello?”

“Rileigh?”

The voice was unfamiliar. “Who is this?”

“Kim Gimhae. I talked with you at the hospital. Are you well?”

I mentally groaned—it was the mental patient with the business card. I held my hand over the receiver and mouthed the words
one minute
to Whitley before walking the short distance into the kitchen and propping myself against the counter.

“Stalker much?” I hissed into the phone.

“I’m sorry?”

“I haven’t even been home a full day and you’re calling me? How did you get my number? No wait, better yet,
why
are you calling me? I was supposed to call you when I was ready. Remember that?”

If I didn’t know better, I would swear I heard the guy smile. “I do. I just thought it wise to check on you. Your experience could attract some unwanted attention.”

Like annoying phone calls? I started to tell him, but the voice interrupted.

He is not to be trusted.

I shivered against the tremors brought on by ghostly fingers tickling along my spine. He who? If the voice was so bent on ruining my life, the least it could do was specify.

Kim caught my hesitation. “You are not alone.”

Pulse still racing, I scrambled to grab the phone as it slipped—yet again—through my fingers. “No.”

“Then do not say more. It’s not safe.”

An icy jolt shuddered through my heart. Having Kim voice my fear out loud only made it more real—I wasn’t safe. The realization wrapped around me, tightening to the point of suffocation. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

“It’s imperative that we meet,” Kim answered. “Then I will be able to answer all of your questions … as well as my own.”

Meet Kim? Not likely. He could be the one the voice warned me about. “Sure thing,” I answered in my best syrupy tone. “My appointment with the ax murderer was cancelled so I can pencil you in.”

“Good,” he answered without a trace of irony. The boy obviously had no clue what sarcasm was. “Tomorrow evening, my dojo, seven o’clock. The address is on the card I gave you.”

I leaned my forehead against the wall. There was no way I was going to his dojo, but if it got him off the phone I was happy to lie. “I’ll be there.”

“Tomorrow then.” I heard a click as he disconnected.

I felt cold from the inside out and was only vaguely aware of my trip back into the living room, where I plopped back onto the loveseat.

“You look a little pale.” Whitley’s voice startled me as it brought me back to the here and now. “Are you feeling alright?”

I gave him a weak smile. “Fine.”

“Boyfriend giving you a hard time?” He tucked his chin and raised his eyebrows, like he was trying to look cute. It worked.

I laughed despite myself. “No.”

“‘No’ because he’s not giving you a hard time? Or ‘no’ because you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Does it matter?”

He lowered his eyes, the humor gone from his face. “I’m afraid I wasn’t totally honest with you. I’m not here just to check on you. I have a hidden agenda.”

My chest tightened. The voice was right again! He
did
want something. And I was dumb enough to let him in the house. Stupid dimples!

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

I blinked. I’d been waiting to hear those words for so long that my mind refused to make sense of their meaning. “Are you asking me out?”