Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [68]
She sipped the last dregs of her coffee, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Her eyes lifted over the brim of her Styrofoam cup, and she was startled to see a beautiful girl around eighteen staring at her. She was waiting at the order pickup, her hip cocked, her black suede boot grazing the floor, moving back and forth.
Her eyes abruptly narrowed.
Yasmine returned her attention to her coffee, disconcerted. The girl wore a black cashmere sweater, skinny jeans, and, judging by the red sole, what looked like Christian Louboutin fashion boots. Her gold jewelry also looked real. Her face was as white as milk and she had blue, blue eyes with long blond hair that reached halfway down her back. She also had big boobs.
God, how Yasmine wished she’d have boobs already.
She glanced up and the older girl smiled.
White straight teeth on a beautiful face. But her smile was creepy . . . even mean. In the back of her mind, Yasmine wondered if she had offended her somehow, like maybe accidentally cut in front of her last week. Or maybe the girl didn’t like Persians. Yasmine was always slightly uncomfortable with beautiful, white girls, especially the ones who weren’t Jewish. She wished Gabe would come back. He was so knowledgeable about everything, and when she was with him, she felt secure and large. As soon as he was gone, she retreated into a shell, feeling foreign and very small.
A moment later he returned, much to her relief.
He sat down and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Unfortunately, it’s around that time.” He looked around and kissed her mouth. “I don’t want you to be late.”
“Okay.” Her eyes lifted upward. The girl was gone.
Gabe studied her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You look . . . upset, maybe.”
“No, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat. “It’s always hard going back to school after vacation.” She tried to forget about the girl and her mean smile. So she didn’t like Persians. That was her problem. “I didn’t even ask how your Passover was.”
“Me?” Gabe laughed. “Actually I did have Seder with the Deckers on the first night. Then with everyone being home, it was too crowded, so I spent the rest of the week with my crazy aunt, Melissa, who’s not much older than I am. She’s ditzy and sloppy, but she can be a riot. Still, I was happy to leave. I missed you terribly, Yasmine. This last week without you has been torture.”
“I missed you soooooo much.” She still felt uneasy. “I’m so glad it’s over.”
“How was your Passover?” Gabe asked.
“Boring. My aunt had about twenty zillion people over. It was my assignment to cover the table with the romaine lettuce.”
Gabe stared at her. “Come again?”
She gave a hint of a smile. “Persian Seders are different from Ashkenazi Seders. Like covering the table in maror—the bitter herbs. Then we actually reenact the whole exodus from Egypt.”
“How do you do that?”
“We chase each other around the table and beat each other with onions.”
Gabe looked at her. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“No, not onion onions. Scallions. We whip each other with scallions.”
“Kin . . . ky!” Gabe grinned. “Invite me over next year.”
She slapped him under the table. Then she grew serious. “I’ve got to go.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to catch the bus anyway.”
Her heart suddenly started beating quickly . . . ominously. She felt weird. “Do you have time to walk with me?”
Gabe broke into a smile. “You want me to walk with you in full daylight?”
“We’ll take side streets.”
“Aha.” He grinned. “So I’m still your dirty little secret.”
“Gabe . . .” Now she looked very upset.
He took pity on her. She was in a bind, and he was making it worse. “You know how much I love being with you. Lead the way.”
They got up from their booth and left the café, walking for a minute without talking.