The Year We Hid Away (19 page)

It squicked me out to think of Azzan sifting through the calls on my phone. “So?” I asked. “That only proves that I don’t have many friends. Harkness is hard work.”

“Uh huh. Who’s Lulu?”

My mouth went completely dry. “Just another friend. What do you care?”

“You’re right, I don’t really. But you probably do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Shannon, you do what your family needs you to do, and I won’t have to go crawling up your boyfriend’s ass, okay? With just his name and phone number, I can find out who he calls, who he owes, and whether or not he’s ever had a parking ticket. Maybe a little bag of pot turns up in his dorm room if you’re not a good girl. Think about it.”

I tasted bile in my throat, and my view of the road began to go blurry at the edges.

“Breathe, Shannon,” Azzan said. His laugh sounded like a stutter. “These are simple things we ask of you. Answer all our questions. Don’t answer any of the other side’s questions. Do it right, and everything will be fine with you and lover boy.”

I forced myself to face him. “I don’t think my father would like you threatening me.”

He only smiled. “Honey, your dad is a washed up old man with a weakness for fucking little boys up the ass.”

My stomach clenched, and I struggled to keep my face impassive.

“See, I don’t work for your dad. I work for his
lawyer
. And his lawyer took this shitty case knowing that everything had to go exactly right. And that’s my job. Even if you go whining to daddy, it won’t make a difference. He can’t fire his lawyer right before jury selection.” Azzan switched on the radio.

I spent the rest of the trip looking out the window, counting down the mile markers.

That afternoon, Bridger texted me repeatedly.
Are you back? Call me
.

But I didn’t call him, because I was too freaked out. Bridger was the last person in the world who needed any of Azzan’s bullshit. And I’d suddenly become ten different kinds of paranoid. I had to keep him out of it, no matter what.

That night, Blond Katie was in a really terrible mood too.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her as she stomped around our room.

“I broke up with Dash,” she said.

It took me a second to remember that Dash was the name of her latest football player. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be too sorry. All he wanted was a fuck buddy. And if he weren’t a total asshole, I might have been okay with that.”

“Sometimes hot just isn’t enough,” Ponytail Katie said, from behind a copy of
Vanity Fair
.

Blond Katie pointed a bright pink fingernail at me. “You, Scarlet, are the one who has it all figured out.”

“Me?”
Whose life is a freaking melodrama?
“Yeah, I’ve definitely got it all figured out.”

“Well, don’t you?” Blond Katie asked. “You have a hot athlete who actually loves you. How’d you do that?”

I sank down on our secondhand sofa, bone weary. My life was a dark tunnel, and I had the sinking feeling that Bridger and I wouldn’t make it out on the other side. “Just luck,” was my answer.
Bad luck
.

“Does he have any nice friends?” Katie asked. “There’s a Christmas party coming up at the sorority that I’m pledging. But I can’t think of who to ask.”

“And you can’t just go alone?”

She looked gobsmacked that I would even suggest such a thing. “No way. You need a date, and it
has
to be an athlete. Preferably an upperclassmen.”

“Hmm,” I said. “How do you feel about basketball players?”

Her perfect little mouth frowned thoughtfully. “I guess I wouldn’t have to worry about towering over him in heels. Who is he?”

“His name is Andrew. He’s a junior in Beaumont.”

“Is he as hot as Bridger?”

“Nobody is as hot as Bridger,” I pointed out.

Ponytail Katie looked up from her magazine again. “What’s the team’s record so far this year?”

“The season just started,” I said quickly.

Blond Katie just shook her head. “Don’t buy tickets to the final four. Have you
seen
our basketball team?” She sighed. “He’s a nice guy?”

“The nicest,” I promised. “You should invite him.”

“Do you have his number?”

An hour later I got a text from Andy.

ANDY:
Um, thanks?

ME:
Um, you’re welcome? You don’t have 2 go, U know
.

ANDY:
Oh, I’m going. But there could B dancing. I dance like an epileptic turtle.

ME:
Man up, Andy. This isn’t really about the dancing.

ANDY:
UR just trying 2 get rid of me 4 the night.

ME: ***
BLUSHING
***

ANDY:
Call Bridger before he gets any grumpier.

But I was still too panicked to know what to do about Bridger. I needed to put some distance between us. So instead of calling, I sent him the world’s least interesting text.

ME:
Home now and hanging out with the Katies.

BRIDGER:
So I heard.

I slept, very, very badly that night. For once, my nightmare changed. Instead of the puck falling into a hole, in this new dream it was my phone. I skated toward it as it skidded across the ice, never reaching the phone before it pitched into the darkness.

Eventually, I gave up on sleeping and spent the last predawn hour staring at the ceiling, worrying about Azzan’s intentions. I had to assume that he’d read every text and email on my phone. His threat had been creepier than my nightmare.

I worried all through breakfast, and then through my morning classes. So I skipped lunch to answer a question that had nagged at me all morning. Mostly, the idea made me feel like a paranoid lunatic. But as the saying goes, just because I was paranoid didn’t mean they weren’t out to get me.

The guy behind the counter at the Nerd Patrol was a Division One level geek — complete with vampire pale skin and toothpick arms. “Hello and welcome to the Nerd Patrol,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Hi,” I smiled at him. “I have a couple of strange requests.”

The geek rubbed his hands together. “Awesome. What are we looking at?”

I set my phone down on the counter. “Okay, this has been out of my control for a few days, and — this is going to sound weird — I wonder if there’s any way you can tell me if the phone’s been altered?”

“What do you mean
altered
?” the guy cocked his head at me. He had the darkest eyebrows I had ever seen on a human being.

“Well, the man who had my phone is kind of stalkerish. I just want to know if he added anything that I can’t see.”

“Um, that would be icky,” the geek said. “Let’s take a look.” He plugged my phone into his computer and began tapping on the keyboard. “When did you last have it to yourself? How far back am I searching, here?”

“I left it with him on Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving, and I got it back Sunday around noon.”

He tapped madly at the keyboard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then his face creased into a frown. “Well…”

“What?”

“And here I thought you sounded like a nut. But there
is
some weird software on your phone. It’s like a spy program.” He rubbed his chin with his hand.

“Seriously? What does it do?”

“Well, let’s Google the title of it.” There was more furious typing, and then he turned his monitor so that I could see.

He had pulled up an advertisement for something called
iTail
. “Instantly Tracks What Your Child Does and Where He Goes!” it read. “Quickly and Effortlessly!”

There was something about the cheery advertising copy that made my stomach turn. “So I’m not crazy? My phone is bugged?”

He shook his head. “It can’t
hear
you talking. But it tracks your location, the phone numbers of calls made and received, email messages, texts…” he scrolled down the screen. “It uploads all that information to a site where your stalker can browse it remotely. Luckily, it will only take me three minutes to uninstall.”

“Wait…” I put my elbows on the counter. “I think I need to leave it on there. At least for now.”

The geek’s eyes got big. “Sneaky!”

“Can I ask you something else?” I pressed. “Is there any way for me to make a recording of the calls I make on my phone?”

“Well, yes and no,” my geek said, tugging on his sideburns. “You want to record the call without the other person knowing, right?”

I nodded.

“I know a trick, but it isn’t, um, a sanctioned operating procedure.” He looked around the room to see who might be listening. Then he looked at his watch. “My break is coming up in ten minutes. I’ll look something up real quick, and then maybe I could tell you what I know over a cup of coffee?”

“Okay…” I wasn’t sure if the geek was hitting on me, or if he really wanted to help. “I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

“My name is Luke, by the way,” the geek said, holding out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke. I’m Scarlet.”

“I’m a computer science major, in case you didn’t figure that out,” Luke said.

“I would have never guessed.”

By the time I realized he was steering us into Bridger’s coffee shop, it was too late. When Bridger lifted his eyes to mine, my heart did the same excited skitter that it always did when I saw him. For about a nanosecond, I was completely happy. And then I remembered what Azzan had done to my phone, and my stomach clenched.

“Hi,” Bridger said, his voice tight.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for letting me know you got back safely last night,” his green eyes flared accusingly.

My mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Sorry.” We really couldn’t have this conversation here.

“What can I get you?” Bridger asked. “Since it’s obvious you’re just here for the coffee.”

“I’d, uh, love a tall latte,” I told him. “And this is my friend Luke,” I said. “I’m treating him as payment for a technical glitch he’s helping me work out.”

“Okay,” Bridger said, punching numbers into the cash register. “Your friend Luke drinks a triple shot cappuccino with a blackout cookie on the side.”

“I’m so predictable,” Luke sighed as I handed over a ten. “Thanks, Scarlet.”

When Luke walked to the end of the bar for our drinks, Bridger handed me my change. And then he grabbed my hand in his. “Scarlet, what is the matter? When are you going to talk to me about your trip home?”

I closed my eyes and just let myself feel the warmth of his fingers over mine. “I’m not sure I can, Bridge. I think I have to handle this myself.”

He squeezed my hand. “I’m
out of my fucking mind
with worry over you. Is that what you want?” His green eyes burned me.

“No. That is not at all what I want.”

There were customers behind me then, making impatient noises. “Can I get a double mocha latte with caramel?” a voice called out. Defeated, Bridger gave me one more upset look. And then he let go of my hand.

I found Luke at a back table, breaking off a bite of the cookie. “Have some,” he offered.

“Yum.” My stomach rumbled to remind me that I’d skipped lunch.

“Please tell me your pissed off boyfriend over there didn’t bug your phone.”

I shook my head. “Nope. He’s one of the good guys. And he’s worried about me because of the bad guys.”

“Do you promise?”

I held up a hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise.”

He sighed. “And now you want to record phone calls?”

“Maybe. I’m trying to think of a way to beat them at their own game.”

He grinned. “You didn’t get this from me, okay? I need to keep my job.”

“I understand.”

“All right, I’ll tell you what I know. If you search the app store for ‘record phone calls,’ you’ll find several choices. The app you want is ten bucks, it’s called Red Wolf, and the icon looks like… wait for it!”

“A red wolf,” I supplied.

“Right. But wait, there’s more,” Luke said, sipping his coffee. “All these programs work using the conference call mechanism. After your call starts, you hit the app and it actually dials
another
phone number which is really just a recorded line. And that takes ten or twenty seconds, so there’s a lag when you can’t record. So you call whoever and then
stall
.”

“Tricky.”

“That’s not even the tricky part. In order to stay legal, these programs make an announcement after you hit the ‘record’ button on the app. A voice will say ‘this call is now being recorded,’ which your caller will hear.”

“Well that sucks.”