Shine - Lauren Myracle [92]
“That’s all right,” I said. “Just put me on with Bailee-Ann.”
“She ain’t here, but I’m sure glad I am. Your message was real interesting, for once.”
I was no longer weightless. In fact, my limbs felt like dead wood dragging me down.
Robert laughed gleefully, the laugh of knowing he had something juicy to hold over someone’s head. “Is that true that Beef’s a faggot, just the same as those fags he’s always railing on?”
“No, Robert. And I don’t want you saying that.”
“Does that mean he did those thing fags do? Love on other guys and stuff? ’Cause that’s nasty.”
I checked my watch. We were forty minutes from Black Creek. We could be at Bailee-Ann’s house in thirty-five, but I wanted someone there now. Because Beef had called Robert special, and then Beef had dropped him cold. Because Robert was a master eavesdropper, and I’d just told him the best, most powerful secret ever. It wouldn’t be long before he realized it.
“Robert, tell me where your sister is,” I commanded.
“Was Patrick really his boyfriend? Is that what you meant by more than normal friends? Did he kiss him, like how boys kiss girls?” His hilarity dropped a notch. “Aw, you’re just messing with me, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I was messing around, and it was a bad idea, and I’m sorry.”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” he said. “I said Beef beat up Patrick, and he said no he didn’t.”
“Okay, but we don’t know that he did. Not for sure.”
“He lied to me,” Robert marveled.
Tilting the phone, I said, “Go faster, Jason. Oh God, I don’t care if we fly off the mountain. Go as fast as you fucking can.”
Jason looked at me, perhaps shocked by my language, and flexed his thigh muscle to press down on the accelerator.
“He’s a liar and a faggot, and he hurt his friend, too,” Robert said. “Why would he hurt his friend?”
“Robert . . .”
His voice changed. “I can’t wait to see his face when I tell him. I’m gonna ride my bike to Huskers right now. Ooo, he’s going to be in so much trouble!”
“Robert, no,” I begged.
“What’s he saying?” Jason said.
“Do not go to Huskers, Robert. Do you hear me?”
There was a whole lot of nothing.
“Robert!”
It was no good. The line was dead.
“No!” I cried.
“Call Huskers and see if Bailee-Ann is there, or even Dupree,” Jason instructed. “Use 411 to get the number.”
So I did. Beef answered lazily, saying, “Huskers, best sammies around. What can I do you for?”
I hung up. I felt cold even in the no-air-conditioning Malibu.
“All right, then call Tommy,” Jason said.
“Tommy?”
“He’s the one who got his friends together to talk to him, right? So he’ll understand.” He banged the steering wheel, not understanding my reluctance. “Call him, Cat.”
His insistence pulled me out of my stupor. I punched in 411 again because I sure as heck didn’t have Tommy’s number memorized. I asked for Ronald Lawson, and computer lady said to hold on. As the call went through, sweat popped out under my arms. My heart hammered crazily in my chest.
“Yo, wassup?” Tommy said. I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Hello?” he said.
I couldn’t form words.
“Hello? If you’re there, say something. Otherwise I’m outta here.”
I hated Tommy more than anyone in the world, and for three years I’d grasped onto that as my whole identity. For three years, I’d stopped talking because of him, and now, if I didn’t talk, he was going to hang up.
“Tommy, it’s Cat,” I managed. “I need your help.”
I JUMPED OUT OF THE CAR AS SOON AS WE GOT to Huskers, with Jason close on my heels. Tommy was inside, along with an anxious Bailee-Ann. Dupree, hovering near the counter, pulled a dishcloth back and forth through his hands.
“Robert’s with Beef,” Bailee-Ann said.
“What? No.” I shook my head, trying to corral my thoughts. “How do you know?”
Tommy jerked his head at Dupree. “Says Robert showed up here, and then he went off with Beef on his motorcycle. Says there didn’t seem to be