Watcher (14 page)

Seemed like it might be better to just go ahead and tell her something.

“I think my father is following me,” I said. Right away I realized that probably wasn't the best opening line I could have come out with, but it chased off her pout.

“You were running because your
father
was chasing you?” she asked, her eyes all round and cute.

“No, no, I was just, uh, jogging to, uh, clear my head,” I said. “You know, think about some stuff.”

“So your father
wasn't
following you?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean, I think he has been, but not right then. I'm not even sure about it, anyway, but some guy has been, and I think it might be him.”

“What, was he in disguise or something?” she asked. She looked confused, but also kind of sympathetic and, sort of soft. And she leaned toward me and put her hand on my arm.

So, that's how, without meaning to, I ended up telling Lavender the whole story. She listened while I told her about The Watcher and how Lynn and I had broken into my mom's cabinet to find the pictures.

“You mean you didn't even know what your own father looked like?” she asked. Her hand squeezed my arm a little.

“Nope. Not before today.”

“That must bite,” she said. “What did he do that was so terrible?”

“He yelled at me and my sister, and slapped us and stuff.”

“Yelled, and slapped you?” she echoed.

“Yeah, when we were little.”

“And that's why you haven't seen him
since
?”

“Not once.”

“That doesn't sound right,” she said. She shook her head. “I mean, it doesn't seem like enough of a reason for you to have never seen him since you were a little kid.”

“Yeah, well, we didn't
want
to see him. My mom says we used to scream if anyone even mentioned his name.”

“That sounds kind of like...” Her voice trailed off and she dropped her hand to her side.

“Like what?”

“It's not really my place to say, but it just sounds so much like the same thing that's happening with my cousin, Kenny.”

“Which is what?”

“He and his wife — I should say ex-wife now — had a little boy four years ago, and when he was about two they split up. Now she's telling everyone that Simon, their kid, is terrified of his father, and Kenny is having a terrible time getting to see his son.

“The worst thing is that Simon says Kenny did things to him – terrible things – like he pushed him down the stairs, only there's
no way
any of it is true. You should have seen him with that kid — he was crazy about him. And Kenny wouldn't hurt a fly, much less his own son.”

“Why would the kid make stuff like that up?” I asked.

“There's only one
possible
answer,” Lavender told me. “Simon's mother brainwashed him, to hurt Kenny and keep them apart. She programmed that poor kid to believe his father did awful things to him, so now Simon is scared of his own father.”

I stared at her.

“That didn't happen with me and Lynn,” I said coldly. “Do you think my mom's crazy or something? She wouldn't do something like that.”

“Okay, sorry. I didn't mean to accuse your mother of anything. It just sounded a lot like —”

“It's
nothing
like that,” I said.

“So, forget I even mentioned it.” She smiled tentatively and touched my arm again.

“Don't worry about it,” I said. I shoved my anger aside and reminded myself that she was just trying to be helpful.

“Hey, I know what will loosen you up,” she said, taking my hand and tugging me with her through the living room. Sliding glass doors opened onto a small concrete balcony and she pulled me out onto it.

Then she reached into her jeans and the next thing she was holding a spliff. She lit it, took a pull, and held it out to me.

chapter twenty

I
don't remember my mouth ever going as dry as it did while I stood looking at the joint Lavender was holding out toward me. The smell rising from it told me it was pure bud.

It was by no means the first time I'd been offered weed since I quit toking, but it was one of the hardest. I shook my head and told myself I wasn't tempted.

“You sure? It's killer stuff.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“One hit?” she sucked in another lungful and held it, waiting for my answer.

“Look, I used to have a problem with this,” I said. “I don't care what anyone else does, but I leave it alone now.”

Lavender shrugged and leaned back against the balcony railing, closing her eyes. She exhaled, a quick burst of smoke that broke up fast, took a third toke and squeezed the lit end to extinguish it. She pulled a folded piece of foil from her pocket, wrapped it and stuck it all back in her pocket.

I saw her body relaxing; a dreamy smile drifted across her face. Her eyes sparkled and shone.

“C'mere,” she said, holding a hand toward me.

I closed the short gap between us, felt her arms slide up around my neck, and leaned down to kiss her.

After a couple of minutes, I backed into the apartment, still holding her against me. We moved over to the couch but all of a sudden she pulled away and sprawled back.

“Give me a foot massage?” she said. She stuck one up and wiggled her toes.

“Uh, okay.” I'd never given a foot massage and I've gotta say the request was coming at a pretty strange time, but I was game. “What do I do?”

She gave me a few instructions at first but then stopped talking and murmured happy
Mmm
sounds while I rubbed her feet. I figured I was doing an okay job of it by the little noises she was making.

I was starting to worry that maybe this was going to put her to sleep, since she was getting more and more drowsy and relaxed looking. I tried talking to her but she didn't answer and I was casting about in my head for some other way of waking her up without getting her mad, when the apartment door opened.

A pair of teens came into the kitchen. I recognized the guy as Lavender's brother Mick. He's a year ahead of us in school. The girl on his arm looked to be a few years younger, though she'd done her best to pass as older than she was. She had on a short, tight black skirt, a thin yellow shirt that left a roll of belly exposed, and some kind of shoes with big platforms. She seemed to be wearing an awful lot of makeup, though I don't actually know much about that stuff. I do know that there was a lot of gunk on her eyes, and her mouth was almost the colour of her skirt, which you'd hope wasn't the way the poor kid was born. She walked with a slinky sort of sway that might have been sexy if it had been even slightly natural.

“Hey Mick, hey Arlene,” Lavender said. At least their entrance had drawn her back to the land of the living.

“Yeah, hi. Do you know where Mom and Dad are?” Mick said.

“Dunno, I just got home half an hour ago myself. Oh, uh, this is Porter. Mick, Arlene.”

We all mumbled greetings and then Mick said he'd been hoping one of his parents would be home because he needed some cash. And — like a sudden afterthought — did
Lavender
have any money? She answered that she was broke.

Mick shot a couple of glances my way and for a second I thought he was going to ask
me
for money. Twice he started to speak but I guess some remaining speck of dignity fought against it because his voice trailed off after he'd gotten out half a word.

“You got any smoke?” Arlene asked. I saw that she had the attitude younger kids put out there when they're trying to sound tough and sophisticated. It never works. In her case, she came across as hostile — for no reason.

“Nope,” Lavender lied.

“That gram is gone
already
?” Mick asked. He frowned at me like I must have smoked it.

“Back off, Mick,” Lavender said lazily.

He glared at her and then grumbled that he was going to get some CDs to listen to at some guy named Allen's place.

After he disappeared down the hall, Arlene let out a sigh and then came into the living room and plunked down on the arm of the couch. She had her lips stuck out in what my ex-girlfriend used to call the “Angelina Jolie pose.” It made her look like a pouting two-year-old.

“I could
really
use a little something to get me right,” she said. “We were at a party last night — it was totally sick — and anyway, this guy there had some blow that was barely stepped on. We got completely wrecked. It was insane but I'm feeling a bit sketchy today.”

I'd been wondering why neither Mick nor Arlene had noticed that Lavender was high, but that pretty much explained it. They were too fogged to think about anything except getting smoothed out.

Lavender murmured a couple of sympathetic things after Arlene had unburdened her sad story, but she also made a point of catching my eye, winking, and casually tapping the pocket that held the remains of her spliff.

Mick seemed to take his time picking out the CDs and Arlene took that opportunity to roll her eyes upward and yawn. I assume she meant to let us know how bored she was to be sitting there instead of doing the cool doper things she usually did.

“Let's go,” Mick said, when he finally reappeared. He jerked his head toward the door and Arlene shoved herself to her feet and walked heavily in that direction.

They'd barely shut the door behind them when Lavender turned to me. “Alone at last,” she said, then added a low, throaty, “mu-wah-ha-ha!”

“Yes, at last,” I said. I laughed in a way that was supposed to sound lecherous in a joking way. Instead, it came out like someone a bit demented.

Lavender giggled and shifted to a sitting position. I was all for that, but before I could even get my arm around her she was on her feet.

“We need music!” she said. “To dance.”

“Uh …” I hesitated, not really wanting to refuse, but knowing there was no way I was going to get up and dance. I really suck at it.

“You wanna join … or
watch
?” she asked. Her eyes were wet and shining. “'Cause I wouldn't mind showing you this dance I invented.”

“Go,” I said, glad to have a way out handed to me.

“I call this ‘Roastin' the Ghetto Bootie,'” she said, making it sound like a big announcement.

“
Roastin' the Ghetto Bootie
? Serious?”

“Uh-huh. Watch,” she said as she made a music selection.

“Travelin' Band” — an old CCR tune — came blasting out a few seconds later and Lavender turned, put a finger to her lips and then proceeded with, as she called it, Roastin' the Ghetto Bootie.

It was like she half exploded, twitching and spazzing all over the place. It seemed that there were more arms and legs flying around than one girl could possibly have and I had to duck a few times or I'd have been clobbered.

When it was over she clapped for herself, jumping up and down like a little kid. I smiled watching her, clapped, too, and whistled, and wished she'd come over and sit with me again.

She did — so, naturally her mother chose that moment to come through the door. Lavender introduced us and Mrs. Dean told me it was nice to meet me and that she wished she'd known Lavender was going to have a friend over because she'd have planned dinner to include me, instead of bringing home just enough take-out for the family.

The invitation to leave didn't bother me a bit. I headed home feeling good about how things had gone with Lavender. That lasted about half a block. Then I started thinking about some of the things I'd managed to push off to the side while I'd been with her.

By the time I got to my place, the questions had flooded back in.

Was the Watcher my father? And what did he want?

chapter twenty-one

L
ynn was acting weird when I got home. Or, I should say, she was acting absolutely normal, which in itself was weird, because she didn't mention a single word about the way I'd freaked and stormed out earlier. And trust me, Lynn is
not
the type to let something like that go.

Normally, she'd have dug for it until I either fed her a lie to shut her up, or got
really
mad, or (as happens in rare situations) actually told her what she wanted to know. Just to get her off my back.

But that time, nothing. I knew it could only mean she was up to something herself, and I was right. I hadn't been home for fifteen minutes when she came over to where I was sitting on the couch, and cleared her throat. With Lynn, throat clearing is a sure sign that she's about to ask me for a favour. I pretended I didn't hear her.

Mom, who was home for a change, tried to give me a signal. I acted oblivious to that, too.

“Uh, Porter?” Lynn said when she saw I wasn't going to bite.