The Fifteenth Minute Page 18

  “No!” I squeal. “And even if he did, I’d still love him.” Then it was my turn to clap a hand over my mouth. DJ wasn’t even my boyfriend. I’d basically seduced him after feeding him pizza. Listen to me, jumping the gun.

  Her eyes widen. “Hold on, sister. So what’s the problem?”

  “He’s perfect. But…” I stop. Can I even tell Bella? Was that betraying DJ’s trust? He hadn’t asked me to keep it a secret, though.

  “Sweetie, you’re scaring me,” she says, sitting down on the bed. “Did something happen? Did the condom break?”

  “It’s nothing like that.” I sit beside her. “DJ has a problem, and I don’t know what to think. But it doesn’t leave this room.”

  Bella makes a heart-crossing motion in front of her chest. “I know that most of the time I have no filter. But I am capable of keeping my trap shut. Especially for you, shorty.”

  “I know. There’s a weird story I need to tell you…”

  Five minutes later, Bella’s eyes are bugging out. “I just can’t picture that at all.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I mean…” Bella stares up at my ceiling. “He’s such a good guy. Of course, I can’t really picture any guy doing that. Yet it happens all the time…”

  Ugh. Bella’s twisty train of thought runs a lot like mine.

  “And if he didn’t do it, why would anyone say he did? Not just say it either—say it to the dean’s office. That place intimidates the hell out of me. You’d have to be totally insane to waltz in there for fun and lie about something like that.”

  The pancakes I ate earlier twist in my stomach. “It’s just weird, right?”

  Bella gives me the side eye. “So who is this Annie?”

  “No idea.”

  “Really? You haven’t hacked into the college database yet to run a background check on her? You’re slipping, my friend.”

  “You know I want to,” I say slowly. “But I shouldn’t stick my nose in.”

  Bella chuckles. “You will, though. Have you met you?”

  Indeed I have.

  20

  Captain Obvious

  DJ

  After I drop off Lianne, I fill Orsen’s gas tank to thank him for the loan of his car. The gray sky over the town of Harkness is a perfect reflection of my mood.

  When I get home, my freaking brother is still sitting on the couch in the living room, drinking a cup of coffee out of my mug. I skirt him and head into my room.

  But he appears in the doorway a minute later. Shit. The dude spends more time in this house than I do. If I get kicked out in a couple weeks, he can just take over my room. Maybe that’s his plan, anyway.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey.” I wait.

  It only takes him a moment to go right for the jugular. “Dude,” he says. “I didn’t know you and Lianne…”

  “What do you care?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Are you going to tattle to Dad?”

  “Whoa.” Leo holds up a hand in a sign of surrender. “Jesus, no. I don’t fucking care if you’re hooking up with her. No, that’s not true. I do care. Good for you, dude. I’m dead serious. If I was in your shoes, I think I’d have, like, chick-induced PTSD.”

  “Who says I don’t?” I grunt, not trusting his enthusiasm. Not trusting anything.

  Even though I wish he would leave, Leo sits down on the end of the bed. “You’re awful grumpy for somebody who got laid.”

  “You think?” I push my hand over my eyes. “She’s probably running for the hills right now.” Last night was perfect, but I hadn’t done the math. This morning it’s so obvious that I’ve fucked everything up with Lianne. She was the best thing that had happened to me in months. But getting so close to her meant I had to confess my troubles.

  So now she’s no longer the only person who won’t look at me like maybe I’m a terrible person.

  “Why is she running for the hills?” Leo asked quietly.

  “Because I told her at breakfast. You know. The whole ugly tale.”

  “Nice timing.”

  I give him a little jab with my foot. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. But I didn’t have a choice. I need to explain why I never walk her home. Why she was covering for me in the booth at the women’s game…”

  Leo is so quiet that I check his face. “She didn’t take it well?”

  “She took it fine over breakfast. But she’s probably in her room right now starting to wonder. Everyone does, right?”

  My brother shakes his head. “Not everyone.”

  “Don’t say that,” I hiss. “You seriously want to sit here and tell me that you never wondered whether I was guilty?”

  “Danny, I never have.”

  “Liar.”

  His head snaps back as if I’ve punched him. “Look, jackass. I get why you’re angry. But save it for the people who are screwing you over. I never doubted you. Not for a second.”

  Bullshit. How could anyone never doubt? I know better than anyone what happened that night. And all I do is sit around wondering what the hell happened. And what I missed.

  My brother nudges the calculus book beside him on the bed. “You got a lot of work to do today?”

  “Does it matter if I do it? My semester is circling the drain.”

  “Then let’s go to the rink. I need to loosen up before practice.”

  “Nah.” I grab the book. “Don’t feel like it.”

  “Danny, don’t be like this.”

  He grabs the book out of my hand. And it’s such an annoying big brother thing to do that my blood pressure shoots up immediately. “Don’t be like what? You think I’m lazy?”

  “I think you’re depressed, Danny. Like—the real thing.” He hands me the book again.

  “Naw.”

  “Yes. This isn’t you. You don’t sit around in your room. You always have a thousand projects, a DJ loop you’re making, party to go to.”

  “I have seventeen days until this meeting. What’s the point of anything if I’m not here? Do you not hear me?”

  “I do hear you,” my brother says. “And I feel like telling Dad that you need help.”

  “Help with what?” My voice cracks. “What’s Dad going to do, other than get on my case?”

  “Maybe you need to see someone,” my brother says, his face grave.

  Swear to God, the whole world has lost its mind when it comes to me. “Leo, I do see someone. He’s called a lawyer, and he costs three hundred an hour. And Dad reminds me of that every chance he gets. Just go already. You’ve done your duty as the good kid. Tell Dad you checked up on me and I’m fine.”

  “Except you’re not.”

  “Would you be? I seriously don’t know what you want from me.”

  And maybe he doesn’t know either. Because at that, Leo finally gets up and leaves my room.

  I shut the door behind him. The next couple of hours are hell as I try and fail to keep my head on homework. Finally I lie down on my bed and pull out my copy of the Scottish play, because it makes me think of Lianne. She and I never got around to reading any of it last night. I’m probably the only guy on earth who’s going to start associating Macbeth with foreplay. Is that a dagger I see before me? Yeah baby. Hold my dagger.

  Smiling for the first time in an hour, I grab my phone and prepare to text her. But I stop myself before sending any dirty Shakespeare quotes. After what I told her this morning, I don’t know how she’ll take it. Does a dagger joke make me sound like a creeper?

  Great. I can officially add her to the list of people who are likely to overanalyze everything I say.

  I miss you already, I text instead. Because it’s true.

  * * *

  The following week, my father calls a lot. He wants to talk about the case. As if talking about it is useful. And I can’t even duck him, because my sister’s visit is coming up, and if she needs to reach me, I have to take calls from home.

  Conversations with my dad have been tense all year, but lately they’re downrigh
t unbearable.

  “We need to talk about this potential lawsuit,” he says. “Jack wants to do some groundwork so he’s ready to file if the hearing doesn’t go your way.”

  “Bad idea,” I insist. “Why pay his hourly rate to plan a lawsuit we might not need?”

  “Son, we need to be prepared for the worst.”

  Great. So I’m not the only one with a dim opinion of my chances.

  “There’s something more. Jack shared a new idea with me.”

  The wobble in the pit of my stomach suggests I won’t like it. “Such as?”

  “He knows a group of lawyers who are trying to put together a class-action lawsuit that seeks to set a tough precedent for colleges who try to adjudicate their own rape cases. He thinks your case is perfect.”

  Perfect. The word bounces around inside my gut. Only an asshole would use that word to describe the hell that is my year. “No way.”

  “Don’t say that until you’ve heard what he has to say,” my father snapped.

  “Dad, I don’t want to be anyone’s test case. Ever.”

  “You have to clear your name!” my father bellows.

  When he says that, I just hear our name. His name. Shit. “I think you have no idea what would happen if we sued the college over this. The whole world is going to just assume that I did it, and that I’m suing to try to find a loophole.”

  “But if you didn’t do it,” my father fires back, “you should never be afraid to say so.”

  All I could hear was the word “if” in that sentence. It strikes me dumb.

  “Danny,” he says. “Don’t ever be afraid to tell the truth.”

  “I am not. Afraid. Of the truth,” I grind out. “But thanks for the show of support.”

  Then, for the first time in my life, I hang up on my father. But it’s either that or lose it completely. He’s still convinced there’s a magic solution that makes the whole thing go away.

  There isn’t. Yet I’m the only one who sees that.

  21

  The Wonder Child

  Lianne

  The days that follow are like a roller coaster. Whenever I try to concentrate on my coursework, my mind drifts to the R-rated scenes we played out in DJ’s bed. It’s hard to read Brecht when I’m picturing that perfect moment when DJ laid me down on his bed. Rawrrrr. I catch myself staring into space, grinning like a fool.

  But whenever I remember he might be kicked out of school, I’m full of despair.

  There are sweet texts from DJ that make me smile. But when he calls me to say hello, he sounds blue. And reserved, too. It scares me, because I’m afraid we won’t get another chance to be together in the same happy way we were on Saturday night. I’m haunted by the things he told me before we went into his bedroom. “I’m not a good bet.” And, “I’m done with one-night stands, so I wasn’t going to go there with you.”

  I didn’t listen, did I? Now I want things from him. Big things. And he’s already warned me he may not be able to deliver.

  My coping mechanism is research. And not all of it healthy.

  Of course I’ve already given in to the urge to search for every Anne, Ann and Anna at Harkness. But she’s proved surprisingly elusive. I have a few clues. He said she’s a sophomore and in Trindle House.

  “Whatcha doing?” Bella says from over my shoulder while I’m in the middle of this task. My screen shows the script I’ve written to parse every girl at Harkness whose name begins with A.

  “God!” I leap in my seat. “You scared me.”

  “I noticed.” My neighbor peers at the screen. “Did you find her?”

  There’s no point in pretending I don’t know who she means. “Nope.”

  “Stop looking, babe. Eat a bunch of ice cream or get drunk. But obsessing about her is not a good plan.”

  As if I don’t know that. I close the browser window. “I’ve been researching the politics, too. DJ told me that the college didn’t bother to investigate his case. And apparently that’s a thing.”

  “It is?”

  I nod. “It’s a big problem. Women report a sexual assault to their school, and then the school drops the ball. Because they don’t know how to do it right.”

  Bella lies down on my bed. “When I made my complaint to the dean, they videotaped the whole thing. Did they do the same for DJ?”

  “He got a phone call, out of the blue. They’re not giving him a chance to defend himself.”

  “Fuck,” Bella empathizes. “Have you seen him lately? Where do you two stand?”

  Isn’t that the question? “I don’t want to be the kind of girl who demands to talk about the relationship. After…you know.”

  “Sex?” Bella props her chin in the crook of one arm and looks up at me. “But maybe you’re the kind of girl who needs to know. Doesn’t make you a bad person. If you need exclusivity to be comfortable, there’s no shame in saying so.”

  Coming out of her mouth, it sounds mature and completely rational. But whenever DJ and I speak on the phone, I can’t make myself bring it up. “Maybe I should have thought about that beforehand. And he’s got so much on his mind.”

  “So do you, now,” Bella points out.

  Right. “But he’s got this huge problem to solve. It seems rude to bang down his door and ask if he’ll be my boyfriend now.”

  “But maybe you need to do that before any more banging happens.”

  “Maybe,” I hedge. Wanting a label from him makes me feel needy, though.

  “So can we order Thai food and drink cheap white wine tonight?”

  The question catches me off guard. “Sure? Well, yes to the Thai food. No to the wine.” I’ve never been a fan.

  Bella gets up to get her credit card. It’s her turn to pay. I’m firing up the order page online when my phone rings. I answer immediately, of course, hoping it’s DJ.

  “Lianne,” Bob says. “I called you today.”

  Right. He had. “Sorry,” I say, wondering why my calls to him are never returned as promptly as his are supposed to be.

  “Did you sign it yet?”

  That’s Bob for you. He’s a charmer. “Any news on the Scottish play?” It’s not nice of me to hold this contract hostage. But the minute I sign it I’m going to lose his attention again. Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  “It’s not the only good role in Hollywood,” he snaps.

  “True,” I say carefully. I want Lady M. More than life itself. But if Bob wants to talk about other good roles for me, that’s a conversation worth having. “What else did you have in mind?”

  “After you’re done with Princess Vindi, we need to age you up. That’s why this sex scene isn’t so bad for your career. Directors want to be able to picture you as a female lead. We can’t keep peddling you as the wonder child forever.”

  “I’m listening.” It wasn’t often that Bob wasted any brain cells trying to think Big Thoughts about my career. I pressed the phone closer to my ear, wondering if any juicy roles have crossed his desk lately.

  “Have you considered an enlargement?”

  “What?” For a second I don’t understand. An enlargement for…photos?

  “I think you should consider it,” he suggests. “If you want to play the ingenue, you need to have the body.”

  Shock makes me unable to speak for a moment. “Bob,” I finally choke. “I’m not getting bigger boobs. There have to be roles I can play without double Ds.”

  “A C-cup would be fine,” he says. “Lots of parts for those. I mean you.”

  “I have to go,” I manage to say. And somehow I don’t throw my phone against the wall. Though I want to.

  “Think about it,” he says before nuking our call.

  Oh, I’ll think about it. Probably while throwing darts at Bob’s picture and grinding my teeth.

  “Bella!” I call. “I changed my mind about the wine! I want some.”

  “Poured it for you already,” she returns.

  Bella is the best kind of fri
end. That is all.

  * * *

  On Thursday night, I get a chance to see DJ live and in person. He’s got an odd gig playing music for a skating party. Harkness College has donated rink time on a Wednesday night for a Boys and Girls Club skating party. He asks me to meet him in the booth and to come hungry.

  When I get there, I find that he’s brought us Gino’s calzones and Caesar salad. And cannoli for dessert.

  “Wow,” I say, stripping off my coat and putting it over the back of a chair. “Fancy.”

  “Are you hungry? I’m starved.” DJ is bent over his computer, probably cuing up songs. He’s already laid out two place-settings, one for each of us. I take off my trusty baseball cap and worry it in my hands. I’m having a dork moment, wondering if I’m supposed to kiss him hello.

  He looks up after a minute and smiles. “Hi, smalls. Good to see you.”

  “Likewise.”

  DJ drops his eyes to the screen again. “Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “Why?”

  He gives a half shrug and busies himself again. Below us on the ice, teenagers are circling to a Lady Gaga tune. “Okay,” he says eventually, moving away from the keyboard. “This is easier than a game. I’ve got forty minutes of continuous music cued up. But if you get the urge to be creative, go for it.” He comes around to stand beside me, then leans down to kiss my forehead. “Let’s eat,” he says.

  So we do. And we watch the teenagers on the ice. Some of them are skating in earnest, while others cling to the side, laughing at their own attempts to stay vertical. When a slow song comes on, they pair up, holding hands while they circle. The song is John Legend’s “All of Me,” which is such an over-the-top love song it makes me feel self-conscious. “That guy right there,” I say, pointing at a kid in a green jacket. “He’s going to ask that girl to skate. The one in the pink hat. I’ll put five bucks on it.”

  DJ snorts. “Okay, I’ll take that bet. I don’t like your chances, though. The song is half over.”