Cash and the Sorority Girl Page 3

  Seth backed away from Lance’s side. He leaned against the doorway opposite his partner. They had the right idea.

  “Come on. That’s not fair. You’re not seeing the full picture here. We can never fully see the picture in the moment,” Logan said

  “Don’t do that.”

  He stood and looked at Lane with misguided pity. “Do what?”

  “Regurgitate that shit. I’m not twelve years old and having an anxiety attack in the grocery store. You don’t get to big brother this situation.”

  “But I’ll always be your big brother,” Logan said. The sad part was how believable it sounded.

  “I’d settle for someone who listens to me.” Lane angled away from Logan, toward Laurel. “Are they coming here?”

  Laurel grimaced. “Yeah. I can delay them, but that’s probably it.”

  “What is wrong with all of you? Our parents are the best people to help Lane through this. They can get her help,” Logan said.

  Lance started muttering about what an idiot his brother was.

  Lane looked pissed. “That’s my call to make, not yours.”

  “It amazes me how stupid you are,” Laurel said to Logan.

  Logan crossed his arms. “Asking for help doesn’t make me weak.”

  “I said stupid, not weak. You’re arrogant too, for the record.”

  Logan faced Laurel for the first time. “Says the woman who is fucking her CI.”

  Well, that shut Laurel up. Not for long, though. She turned to Lance. “You told him?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me. I’m not that stupid.” Logan huffed.

  “Thanks for trusting me, dickwad.” Lance crossed his arms and glared at Laurel.

  I realized that I was getting a reenactment of fifteen years in the Kallen house. Somehow I doubted that anything aside from some intensive therapy would help them communicate better. Regardless, Lane was dealing with enough already. She didn’t need to regulate her siblings’ argument over who loved her more. And I didn’t really appreciate my relationship—regardless of how inappropriate it was—being weaponized.

  I touched Lane’s shoulder. “You want some coffee?” I asked quietly.

  Her mouth quirked in an unspoken question. “Sure.”

  “Come on.” I nodded at the doorway to the kitchen. She followed me. Behind us, the voices swelled. Once we were in the relative safety of the kitchen, I waited a beat to make sure everyone was occupied. “Listen, I don’t know how your family works. I’m sure it would be healthy or some shit for you to deal with them, but I also think the last twelve hours have been a lot for you. So maybe today is not the day for all of that.” I gestured vaguely at the raised voices.

  “Yeah.” She nodded wryly. “I’m feeling all of that, but I don’t know what to do about it. You want me to tell them all to leave me the fuck alone? Because I’m open to it at the moment even though I don’t think it will work.”

  “Or we could just sneak out of here.”

  Lane’s eyes went wide. A slow grin spread across her face. “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “We can go out the back door. When we’re far enough away, I’ll call Laurel. My apartment has coffee.” I thought about the usual contents of my fridge. “And zero groceries, but I will totally buy you groceries.”

  “Sold.” Lane looked down. She was barefoot. “I don’t have shoes.”

  “What shoes were you wearing last night?”

  She looked embarrassed. “The woman from WEAVE gave me flip-flops.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Laurel’s room?” She shrugged.

  “Okay. You go down the back steps. I’ll get the flip-flops and meet you out there in two minutes.”

  Lane took a deep breath and smiled. “See you in two minutes.” She eased the back door open and stepped out on the porch.

  I made sure the door was closed tight. It tended to blow open with the right gust of wind. You’d think a cop would be averse to a door that opened itself, but Laurel had never seemed concerned.

  When I stepped back in the living room, they were all still bickering. Seth had joined in, which was a mistake. His partner was trying to calm him, which was a bigger mistake. Laurel made eye contact with me. I motioned with a wave of my hand that she should keep them going. I wasn’t sure if she got the message, but then she started in on Logan’s daddy issues so I was really hoping that was a ploy and not just conversation.

  The flip-flops were on the floor in front of Laurel’s dresser. I grabbed them and one of Laurel’s leather jackets. Lane would probably swim in the jacket, but I didn’t want her to get cold. I arranged the jacket over my arm so it would hide the shoes. The Kallen boys barely noticed when I came back in the room. I went straight to Laurel.

  “I’m taking off,” I said quietly.

  She frowned. “Okay. Is Lane all right?”

  “She just needs some time. Give her five, then check on her, okay?”

  “Sure,” Laurel said. She could clearly tell something was up, but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll call you.” I didn’t bother to say anything to anyone else, just skirted around them and left.

  I hustled down the front stairs. There wasn’t anyone noteworthy on the sidewalk. I’d never met Laurel’s parents, but I’d seen photos. When I was pretty sure we were clear, I rounded the corner and opened the gate to the backyard. Lane was sitting on the lower deck, smirking at me.

  “Come on.” I tossed her the sandals.

  She kicked into them. “Thanks.”

  “Here.” I handed her the jacket as she fell into step beside me. “In case you’re cold.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be a hardened criminal or something.”

  “Oh, I am.” I smiled at her. “You can’t tell anyone I’m secretly nice.” We paused again at the sidewalk to look for anyone related to Lane.

  “That will be difficult. I know lots of criminal types.”

  “I sensed that about you.” I unlocked my car and held the door for Lane.

  She climbed up. “The chivalry is really killing your rep.”

  Chapter Three

  “Hey. What’s up? Did you forget something?” Was how Laurel answered the phone.

  “No. Have you gone to check on Lane yet?” I asked.

  “Not yet. Should I?”

  My phone was plugged into the car stereo so Lane could hear our conversation. I glanced at her. She half smiled at Laurel’s question.

  “Well, she’s kind of not there. I snuck her out the back,” I said.

  “What?” Laurel asked.

  “Hey, big sis,” Lane said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t be mad at her. It was my idea. I just thought she was already dealing with a lot and your family is also a lot and maybe she needed some time,” I said.

  Laurel started laughing, which she turned into a cough. “I agree.”

  “We’re going to her dorm, then my place.”

  “Excellent. I’ll call you later.”

  “Thanks for getting it,” Lane said.

  “Anytime.”

  I hung up. “That wasn’t terrible.”

  “It was the opposite of terrible. Laurel is an excellent human.”

  “One of my favorites.”

  Lane pointed at a small street. “Turn there.”

  We were at the back end of Sacramento State’s campus. She directed me through another couple of turns to a visitors’ lot. I parked and cut the engine.

  “You want me to wait here or come up with you?”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Whatever makes you more comfortable. If you just want a buddy, I got your back. But if you don’t want a drug dealer following you around campus, I’ll hang here.”

  She seemed nervous. “Yeah, okay. You should come up with me.”

  “Done.” I pulled out my keys and got out of the car.

  We were quiet on the way to her dorm. After a couple of minutes, Lane
stopped walking so stiffly. I wondered if I was making her nervous or if it was just being back on campus.

  The dorms were relatively empty. I’d expected them to be busy at this time of morning.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “We’re a month and a half into the new semester. The shine of dorms has worn off so a lot of people go home on weekends.”

  “I remember that feeling. But I was in queer housing so it was a different vibe.”

  Lane unlocked the door to her room. It was empty. Both beds were still made. Her roommate clearly had slept elsewhere as well. “Queer housing would be way cooler.”

  “It was. I’d never been around so many gay people, so many people who got me.”

  She pulled a duffel bag from under her bed and started stuffing clothes in it. “I was hoping to get a room in my sorority house this year, but it’s by seniority.”

  “I didn’t know you were in a sorority.”

  “Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon.” She nodded at a large flag with three Es above her bed.

  “Well, yeah, once you point that out it’s pretty obvious.”

  Lane laughed. “I’m not surprised you didn’t know. Laurel wouldn’t have told you. She thinks it’s dumb.”

  “Yeah, she’s not the sorority type, I guess.”

  “She’s not. But I like it.” She grabbed a bag of toiletries. “My mom was Tri Ep too so I’m a legacy.”

  “That’s got to have some perks, right?”

  “Mostly it means the pre-law sisters all want to be friends with me. Judge Kallen has clout.”

  “So it’s just helpful if you need a pre-law tutor?”

  “I think my mother would die of happiness if I took a pre-law class.” She opened a prescription bottle and tapped out a round, pale pill. Then she punched another pill out of a blister pack. The first pill was an anxiety med. The second I didn’t recognize. Professionally, I was curious. Personally, I was indifferent. She dry swallowed them, which was just a little too badass for my taste. It takes a certain type of person to dry swallow pills. She shoved the bottle and blister pack into her bag and zipped it. “I think that’s everything.”

  “Shoes?”

  “Good call.” She kicked off the flip-flops and stuck them in the trash can under the desk on her side of the room. She slid on a pair of ballet flats and stuffed a few more pairs of shoes into her duffel.

  I slung her bag over my shoulder and followed her back into the hall. “Back to my place?”

  “Yeah, as long as you weren’t lying about having coffee.”

  “I don’t lie. I mean, not when it matters.” Lying to cops I wasn’t sleeping with didn’t count as lying. Ethics said so.

  “Coffee matters?”

  “Coffee is very serious.”

  “Then I’ll be a happy camper,” she said.

  “One condition.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “If we are hiding out, you have to pick out something utterly mindless to watch.”

  Lane nodded. The whole way back to the car she really worked on her pensive face. After we climbed in, she turned to me. “When I had shitty days when I was little, Logan and I watched nature documentaries.”

  I nodded slowly. “Right. I don’t think I have any nature documentaries. Netflix probably does. I will find you nature documentaries.” I mentally scanned my movie collection and Netflix queue.

  “You sound so certain. And shockingly uncertain. It’s an interesting juxtaposition.”

  “I’m an enigma.”

  “We don’t have to watch nature shows.”

  When she said nature shows, I knew exactly what to watch. Semantics were important. “Oh. I’ve got it.”

  “Got what?”

  I pulled onto H Street. “How do you feel about Shark Week?”

  “Everyone likes Shark Week.”

  “Yeah, but new Shark Week is all fast sharks and blood. It’s not sciencey. They aren’t documentaries.”

  “Okay?” Lane twisted in her seat so she could see me better.

  “Old Shark Week is where it’s at.”

  “Because they are sciencey?”

  “Yep.” I cut down to Folsom Boulevard. No need to drive by the hospital again if we could avoid it.

  “Sold. Are they on Netflix?’

  “No. They are impossible to find. Luckily for you, my uncle spent my first year in college transferring all my childhood recordings of Shark Week to DVD.”

  “That sounds pretty healthy.”

  I shrugged. “He had trouble coping with me leaving for college.” We passed under the freeway and entered midtown. “You want to stop for groceries?”

  “I’m good. I don’t think I want to be around a ton of people.”

  “That’s valid.” I turned toward my house and away from the store.

  “So why did your uncle have trouble with you going away to college?”

  “Empty nest, I guess. He raised me. Shark Week was our thing when I was little, thus the painstaking recordings.”

  “That’s slightly less weird. Still weird, but less so.”

  “It’s totally weird. But it was kind of great every time I got a care package.”

  “My parents aren’t the care package type. One day, they’ll manage to package disappointment and dreams that will never be realized, but it hasn’t happened yet,” she said brightly.

  “You’re not interested in law school either?”

  She laughed. “Absolutely not. I’d hate studying law so I’m not going to.”

  “That seems reasonable.”

  “Not to Janice and Randolf.”

  “So is Logan the favorite or something?” If they wanted their children to be lawyers, a twenty-five percent success rate was pretty pathetic.

  “God, no.”

  “But he’s the lawyer.”

  “Yeah, but he’s also the crazy one.”

  “Huh?”

  “They hospitalized him briefly at fifteen,” she said. At my questioning look she expanded. “Institutionalized him. He was suicidal. I’m pretty sure he only went to law school to redeem himself for sullying their name.”

  “Wow. That’s…” I didn’t know what that was. These people sounded like shadowy monsters when their children described them. Horrible, but always in intangible ways. Yet, everyone else appeared to love them. What truths did the children see that no one else could?

  “Yep.”

  We pulled into the driveway. Robin’s car was gone. She’d mentioned switching shifts with someone. I’d have to check my texts to see when she was supposed to be off.

  “They blamed him for being a suicidal teenager?” I asked.

  “Never.” She said it with conviction that veered a bit close to sarcasm. “They assumed he was fundamentally broken and could never function without them. After that, he got perfect grades, went to the perfect schools, read the perfect books.”

  “To prove he could.”

  “Exactly.” Lane got out of the car.

  I grabbed her duffel and led the way up the front steps. I held the door for her. “So what’s the plan?”

  Lane leaned against the back of the couch. “I’m going to change into my own clothes and you’re going to make coffee and then we’re going to watch Shark Week.”

  “Cool.” I pointed at the open doorway. “You can change in the study. I’ll make up the couch in there for you later. Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks, Cash.”

  “Of course.”

  “No, really. Thank you.” She threw me some of that meaningful eye contact.

  I wanted to argue the sentiment, but that was probably a useless endeavor so I went to make coffee. I glanced at Nickels’s food bowl, but either Robin or Andy had fed her that morning. My neighbors were the best.

  A couple of minutes later, Lane came into the kitchen and sat at the table. She had changed into yoga pants and an off the shoulder sweatshirt. Her shoes had been replaced by fuzzy socks.

  “
I didn’t actually get to drink any coffee this morning.” She sighed meaningfully.

  “It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Okay.” Another deep sigh. “Laurel text yet?”

  I checked my phone. “Nope. But she knows we’re just vegging all day.”

  “All day?”

  “Yeah. You get all of the snacks. And all of the mindless television. And later we can drink all of the beer.” I sat across from her at the table.

  “This is an excellent plan.”

  A strange thought occurred to me. “Wait. You’re not twenty-one.”

  Lane chuckled. “You’re not going to let me drink beer now are you?”

  “Your big sister is a detective and your big brother is a cop.”

  “So?”

  “Your mother is a judge.”

  “Valid points, I guess,” she said.

  The coffee pot beeped. I got up and poured each of us a cup. “You should actually drink this one.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” Lane took one of the mugs from me on her way into the living room. “Bring on the sharks.”

  I followed her. “And the science.”

  “All of the science.”

  I dug out a stack of plain cases holding burned DVDs. Clive’s blocky handwriting identified the title and year. We were deep into the late nineties when my phone started vibrating. I ignored the text messages, but then it started ringing. I looked at the screen. Andy.

  “Sorry. I have to take this,” I said.

  “It’s fine.” Lane waved her hand.

  I paused Shark Week and swiped to answer the call. “Hey, tiger. What’s up?”

  “Whatcha doing?” Andy drew it out.

  “Watching Shark Week.”

  “Cool.” She apparently wasn’t going to volunteer the reason for her call.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Standing outside of school.”

  “It’s a Saturday.”

  “Yeah, but Sloan and I had an SAT prep course.”

  “Do I know Sloan?” I was pretty sure I knew all of Andy’s friends.

  “Yeah, but you know them by a different name.” Andy did not offer up the different name.

  “Okay. Why are you calling?”