Saving You, Saving Me (3 page)

Collins McGregor’s gaze went to my lips, and I felt a rush go through me as I saw him fixate on my mouth. I had heard of people having one-night stands, and although I could not understand it before, I now understood how people can end up having sex with each other only after meeting them within minutes. The way Collins McGregor was looking at me, and the way my entire body felt while he was looking at me, I knew why people could jump from “hi” to “bed” in an instant. I licked my lips again because of the nervous heat I was feeling.  That was the kind of chemistry that flew between us. It confused the heck out of me, yet I could not ignore it. “I’m sure you have more to you than what meets the eye,” I said, biting my tongue. I should stop before my curiosity got to me. “I wonder what kind of man actually has the need to constantly show off his wealth…come on, two beautiful women on each arm?”

Collins McGregor’s face went white, and I could see the anger in his eyes.

“Sorry,” I said again, biting my lips. I meant it this time. “You must have had your heart broken,” I thought out loud. “Or are you overcompensating for some kind of deep dark secret you may have…” Gay? Small manly parts?  The budding psychologist in me was piqued with curiosity. I had just read about Freud and his id vs. ego. My battling Freudian sides whom I named Lola and Susan were piqued. Something about Collins McGregor brought out the wild in me…Lola, while Susan the sane battle to keep my head on.

            Collins McGregor opened his mouth, and I expected a smart retort to come from him, but all he said was, “Hearts, that’s my secret…hearts strategically placed can drive a man crazy.” Then he fixed me with a look that could make a grown man wither  and crawl away. “Miss Sullivan, for your information, and I think you should check your facts before accusing anyone of anything you have no idea about, I did not grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. Quite the opposite, let’s leave it at that.”

            I flushed with red hot shame as I looked at my shaking hands. Too embarrassed to face him, I walked away, my heart pounding with every step.  

I
walked quickly out of the administrative offices and down the hall towards my locker, feeling my heart beat loudly in my ears. One more minute standing that close to Mr. Hot Bod and Brilliant Smiles would cause me to have total combustion.  I hadn’t let a boy affect me in this way since, well, ever. It wasn’t the kind of thing I would do. It wasn’t what Samantha Sullivan would do. The way I was feeling, if I got close to him at all, it would only lead to trouble…

And that reference he had to hearts. My face flushed for the gabillionth time today. I knew gabillionth was not a word, but the way my mind was going, I was going to have Tourette syndrome. Could I ever live down that moment when I flashed Collins McGregor my underwear?

It took me a while to make it to my locker.

“Sam!” Jennifer, my pretty blonde cheerleader friend walked by with her boyfriend Rick Harvey, the star quarterback. Ever since she became cheerleader and started dating Rick, she and I grew apart and became preoccupied with other activities. “Just wanted to wish you happy belated Birthday, Sam,” she said, linking her arm with Rick’s. “I’m still bummed you did not try out for cheerleading this year.”

“Busy with trying to get my grades up and other things,” I said, noticing how Rick could not keep his hands off Jennifer. I gritted my teeth. College was the way out of my house, and I had to get a scholarship to go to Stanford, far enough away from home. But Jennifer did not know that. No one knew except for me.

“Seriously Sam, you are close to perfect in everything,” Jennifer said.

“No, I’m not,” I said, glancing at Jennifer who had slipped her hand into Rick’s back jean pockets. I almost gagged at such public display of affection. “Uh, Jennifer and Rick, I’m kind of late for class…”

“Well…I’ll see you around,” Jennifer said.

I smiled and stopped walking then. “Thanks for wishing me a happy birthday,” I said. I hugged her.

She hugged me back and whispered into my ears, “I think I saw Collins McGregor come out of the principal’s office with you. He is hotter in person than I expected. You are so lucky you got to talk to him.”

I shrugged, glancing over at Rick standing a few feet away, who looked bored and was looking at his fingernails.

“You realized you were talking to one of the hottest most eligible bachelors in America?” Jennifer said excitedly.

I rolled my eyes. “Arrogant, too,” I said.

“That comes from being a music mogul. Pretty amazing for someone who came from nothing, living off the streets, to being the success that he is.  Arrogant or self-confident? Who knows, but he definitely has something special. I did not realize how young and good-looking he is.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“So what did you talk about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I think he likes you,” she said. “I saw him put his hand on your shoulder, and the way he won’t take his eyes from you, it was intense.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m not hoping to get married at 18,” I said.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Who said you have to marry him? Seriously, Sam. You are too much of a PK. You’re allowed to date, for goodness sakes, I hope. You have to have that before marriage. And marriage, that’s totally jumping to conclusions. I’m not even thinking about that.”

“Good,” I eyed Rick picking his teeth. “I should hope not. Well, gotta go!”

“At least think about it if any chance it comes up, Sam. I worry about you, but now that Rick’s my guy, all my time is spent with him or cheerleading. I hope you understand.”

“Perfectly,” I said, walking away to my locker. Now I was sure I was late.

I reached my locker in time for me to open the lock and pull out my books for the next class when I heard a familiar voice say “Hi, Miss Sullivan.”

I jumped and my books tumbled out of my hands. Again. Collins McGregor was standing before me, looking every inch like a model for GQ. He had taken off his jacket and was now clad in his white shirt, pale blue silk tie and snug well-worn blue jeans.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Miss Sullivan,” he said, bending down to pick up my books and handing them to me.

“I thought you were taking a tour around school with Principal Lowry.”

“I did,” Collins McGregor said, with undisguised annoyance. “We walked around campus, looked into some classes, and headed back.” He added drily, “And talked mostly about stocks and the marketplace.”

“Well…there really isn’t that much to the Academy,” I said truthfully. 

“But you’re here.” 

“I have no choice in the matter. My parents chose this Academy for me.”

“Is it because it’s academically challenging?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Look Miss…”

“Call me Sam,” I said looking directly in his icy blue eyes.

“Sam,” he said, as if it were a strange word.

“Yes, Sam,” I said, raising my eyebrows, cocking my head slightly and opening my lips to inhale in defiance.

At that moment, Collins McGregor froze, his own eyebrows raised slightly. “You have very lovely eyebrows,” he said, looking at my lips.

“Oh, thank you,” I said, unconsciously raising them higher. I’ve never had anyone compliment my eyebrows before. With his eyes blazing on my lips, I felt even more self-conscious than before, which had the effect of making my mouth go dry. I stuck out my tongue and licked my lips.

Collins McGregor shifted his legs, and stood up straighter, his eyes darker than before. He cleared his throat.

“Sam,” he said, “I need your opinion, as a student who goes to this school.  Would you recommend it?”

“Of course,” I said.

“How are the students here…any incidences of bullying?”

“We’ve had a few…”

Collins McGregor’s face dropped slightly.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, though,” I said. “The teachers, the principal, and several students stepped in. The bullies were asked to leave.”

“Wow, that’s intervention,” Collins McGregor said.

“There’s a school anti-bullying policy and stuff like that,” I volunteered.

“Anything you don’t like about this school?” Collins McGregor asked.

“The usual – better school food, more time to do homework, stuff like that,” I said.

“What about friends?” he asked.

“What?” I asked, confused. “Do you mean is it easy here to make friends?”

“Do you have any?” he asked.

“Of course, I do,” I said, offended he would think I was a friendless loser. “I might not have a lot, but I have some close friends. I’m not one to collect friends superficially. I prefer having a few good ones.”

Collins McGregor’s eyes went from mine down to my lips then. “What about guys?” he said.

“What?”

“Do you have friends who are guys?” his face was serious.

“I don’t make friends with people base on their gender,” I said. I was getting miffed now. I didn’t know where all these questions were heading.

“Good,” he said. “It seemed like you’re jumpy around them so I thought you probably didn’t have a lot of experience being close to any. No brothers? No boyfriends?”

“I’m not ‘jumpy’ around guys,” I said defensively. Just around you, Mr. Hot Bod and Super Inquisitive. “I do have friends who are guys, and yes, I mean, no – I don’t have brothers.”

“No boyfriend?” Collins McGregor asked. He was serious.

A sudden shiver went down my spine, and I involuntarily trembled. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a feeling of fear and excitement at the same time. I shook my head. “Mr. Collins McGregor, this is getting too personal. And I’m afraid I’ve already missed most if not all of my next class. I have to get going.”

“I apologize,” he said, finally looking a little embarrassed. “I’ll let you go, but…” he handed me his card. “I’m sorry if I came across sounding too personal, Miss Sullivan, but you seem to have drawn some conclusions about me already, as I’ve drawn of you. If you’d care to know, all you have to do is call or email me.” He smiled shyly then, a smile that took me completely by surprise with how sweet and adorable he looked, younger even, like a little wavy blonde haired boy. Then he walked off.

I looked down at his card: 

Collins McGregor, OWNER – The Collins Companies

Then in his handwriting in neat straight lines was his cell phone number.

This whole surreal meeting, this whole day was made real with Collins McGregor’s card and phone number to prove it. 

           
I
held onto the memory of beautiful Collins McGregor’s face as I slid the key into our white Nantucket-style cottage house. It was the one thing I loved about moving to Newport Beach, California, five years ago when Dad got transferred to head up a medium size church in Newport Beach. According to him, it was something of a miracle, especially after what happened at his old church in the small town of Victorville, California - an incident that involved me and Billy Jackson when I had just turned 13 and Billy, was, well, 14, drunk, and a walking rage of hormones.

            My face burned at the memory of the incident, Dad’s face as he turned white hot with anger, and the deep shame I felt after he caught us. Ever since then, Dad had been distant from me, and I have vowed to work extra hard to repair my image as a Pastor’s kid, especially as the somewhat famous Pastor Samuel Sullivan’s oldest daughter.

            The white wood door opened without a creak as I pushed my way into our comfortable, but immaculate house.  “Mom!” I cried. “You home?”  I didn’t see her old white BMW in the driveway.  She must have picked up Nydia and had taken her with her to the store. Getting a glass from the cabinet, I opened our refrigerator and pulled out the milk carton and poured. Only a little drip of milk poured out. They must have gone grocery shopping. With a growing five-year-old and a healthy teenager, our house always had milk in the refrigerator.  It was the one thing my mother insisted on.

            It was the one thing Mom was good at as a mom, making sure we had plenty of milk in the refrigerator. Other than that, I guess I got lucky with how I managed to grow up somewhat normal and get good grades, have dreams of going to college…

            Then I noticed the dining room. Immaculate, as always, but I noticed the ring of a glass left on the table, a telltale sign, Mom had been drinking all morning long. And it wasn’t just cocktails. She had been touching the hard stuff.

            “Nydia!” I cried, running to her room and checking all the other rooms throughout. “Where are you?”

            I ran outside to our tidied backyard where there was a swing set, a small flower garden, and a view of the canyons behind our house.  Dad had spent a year fixing up the old cottage when we bought it just so we could have that view. A fixer-upper that had gone into foreclosure, we were fortunate to be able to snatch the little cottage for Dad’s pastor salary in the expensive area of Newport and Costa Mesa. After Dad had finished fixing up the place with help from some of the men from church, the cottage was just as nice or nicer than the other homes on the same street.

            “Mom?” I called around the corner of the backyard to the patio area with a gazebo. Maybe she had decided to spend the day reading a book out there while watching Nydia play. Please God, let that be the case instead of what I feared was probably true.  I rounded the corner and she wasn’t there in the gazebo.

            My fear turned to dread as my phone started ringing. I knew it was Dad because of my caller ID.  It had been years since I’d been close to Dad, ever since the incident with Billy. I don’t know how I can ever live that down or move past it, but it’s haunted my relationship with Dad, and I don’t think he’ll ever recover from it. “Hello,” I answered. “Dad?”

            “Sam,” it was without warmth and had an authoritative and serious tone. “Where’s your mother?”