Stuart laughed dryly. “He missed, didn’t he? Point-blank range. My guess is that he wasn’t really trying, but then maybe his aim was off. He’s probably never been skeet shooting.”
“Nor fenced or read Thoreau, or caught an opening on Broadway, either,” Collin said without the slightest trace of a sneer. He slid the aviator glasses onto the bridge of his patrician nose though the day was already gloomy.
“Never suffered through the Russian Ballet or had the opportunity to learn French in Paris.”
“Poor unfortunate wretch.”
“A lucky stiff if you ask me. He can do what he bloody well wants. Like try to shoot Frank Sullivan.”
“Probably missed on purpose.”
“My ass. He hates your old man.”
Collin’s lips curled slightly. “Don’t we all?”
“So why don’t you pick up a gun?”
With a slow smile Collin said, “There are better ways to get back at dear old dad, don’t you think?”
“And you know them all.”
Collin’s laugh was downright dirty. “Not only know them, but practice them daily.”
“If you’re lucky.”
“I usually am,” Collin assured him as Stuart rounded the final bend and eased the Porsche through the open gates. Robert and Adele had already moved to the lake for the summer, and this was their first party of the season. Stuart had offered to pick up Collin as he’d been trapped with late finals, so they’d driven up together.
“The least you could do is offer Bibi some encouragement,” Stuart said. “Maybe then she wouldn’t be so interested in O’Rourke.”
“That would be cruel.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t love her—not like that.” His lips pinched at the corners.
“What’s love got to do with anything?”
“For Christ’s sake, Stu, forget it. If you’re so interested, you do it.”
“Hell, Collin, she’s my sister.”
“She’s my cousin!”
“So?”
“Oh, for the love of God. There’s no way I’m going to lead Bibi on.”
“Sure you will. Come on, it could be fun.”
“Fun?” Beneath his sunglasses, Collin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Think about it,” Stuart said.
“What do you want me to do? Kiss her? Feel her up? Get into her pants, for Christ’s sake? What are you, her fucking pimp?” He was angry now, his usually calm expression changed by fury. Blue eyes were narrowed, lips grim and flat, nostrils flared. Outraged. Just the way Stuart liked to see him.
“Just show her some attention.”
“Seduce her?”
“There are worse things you could do.”
“I don’t think so!”
Stuart parked near the garage. He yanked the key from the ignition and Collin shoved open his door. “Wait.” Clamping strong fingers over his cousin’s arm, Stuart said, “Just be kind to her, okay? Don’t lead her on, but give her some hope so that she gets over O’Rourke.”
“False hope, you mean.”
“We could make it more interesting.”
“I don’t need more interesting, Stuart. Or don’t you remember?”
Stuart wasn’t listening. As the oldest, he’d always been able to get his sister and younger cousins to do his bidding. Sometimes he asked them, other times he threatened, but his true skill, his talent, was in manipulation. “Come on, Collin, give the girl a break. It won’t take long and you might enjoy it. Right now O’Rourke’s new and interesting, but she’s really hung up on you.”
“Great.” Collin rolled his eyes. But he was weakening. As he always did.
“This…intrigue she feels for O’Rourke will pass of its own accord, but we’re just giving it a little push.”
“We?”
“Well, you, really.”
Muttering under his breath, Collin fell back against the seat. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into all this nonsense.”
“’Cause you love it. Now, listen. It’ll be easy to turn Bibi’s head from the bastard. She’s had this crush on you since she was six.” Now that his quarry was in no danger of escaping, Stuart could remove his hand from Collin’s upper arm, but he let it linger, reminding Collin just who was boss. “Oh, I know she’s been with a couple of other boys—infatuations that passed. She’s always been way ahead of the girls her age. Once Mother caught her making out with Donny Cheltham on the dock. The top of Bibi’s swimsuit was off and Donny had a boner so big his Speedo couldn’t hide it.”
“Your mother told you this?”
“I was there,” Stuart said, and he felt a familiar rush in his bloodstream at the thought of Bibi and Donny groping and rolling around in the hot summer sun, their bodies slick with sweat and suntan oil. “They just didn’t know it.”
“So now you’re a peeping Tom.”
“Always have been and you know it. You like it.”
“Let go of me.” Collin ripped his arm away, stood, and straightened his tie. “You’re depraved, you know that, don’t you, Stuart?”
Stuart slipped the keys in his pocket. “A fucking deviant and proud of it.”
“Oh, hell!” Collin’s mouth lifted at the corner. His fury dissipated quickly, as it always did. That was the problem with Collin; he didn’t really know how to hold a grudge. Unlike his old man. Unlike almost everyone else lucky enough to be a part of this family.
Bibi watched him walk into the room with Stuart. Tall, lean, sexy. Collin had always appealed to her. As kids they’d played together, and later as he’d grown, he’d become her friend and confidant, but then adolescence had taken hold and he’d spent more time with Stuart than her. The larger her breasts became, the more defined her waist, the less the boys wanted to be around her. A few years ago, they’d been an exclusive threesome, never letting prim and tattletaling Alicia into the group, but slowly Bibi, too, had been weaned. Now Stuart and Collin were best friends.
Bibi tried to reach him. Sometimes Collin was just plain cold, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, as if he had problems he couldn’t share with her, but other times he was friendly and she was reminded of the boy she’d grown up with.
Tonight, he nearly blinded her with his smile. Alicia was playing the piano, hoping to impress them all with her perfect rendition of some classical piece—Chopin, Bibi thought idly. The parents were gathered in the living room, where they were sipping martinis. Bonnie was near the fire, curled on a sofa and reading a book.
“Isn’t this a rowdy group?” Stuart observed as he eyed the hors d’oeuvres arranged on a tabletop. Snagging a prawn wrapped in bacon, he plopped it into his mouth.
“The rest of the guests are supposed to arrive around eight.” Bibi didn’t like the thought of putting up with another boring party with friends of her family, but she had no choice. This was a command performance.
“Maybe we can all be drunk by then,” Stuart said so that only she and Collin could hear. He smeared some salmon pâté onto a tiny cracker.
“Fat chance,” she said. “Some of us aren’t old enough.”
“There are ways,” Stuart told her and slid a glance at Collin as he took a bite from the cracker. “Meet us in the pool house after everyone arrives, so you won’t be missed. Nine-thirty.”
Collin shot him a look that could kill.
Bibi ignored it. “Why?” She couldn’t help the excitement that crept into her voice. They were finally including her again.
“It’s a surprise,” Stuart told her. “Don’t tell the girls.” His gaze moved to include Bonnie and Alicia. “Make sure you come alone.”
Bibi slipped out of the house unnoticed. Collin and Stuart had left a few minutes earlier, not together. First Stuart had wandered onto the flagstone deck and not returned. After hanging around the dessert table and talking with a couple of older guys, Collin had made his exit as well. Now, Bibi, making sure that no one was paying any attention to her, headed
for the powder room, then once she was in the hallway, slipped through a door to the servants’ quarters and out a back way near the laundry room.
A light drizzle had deigned to mist over the Sullivan party and wisps of fog clung to the black surface of the lake. She made her way to the pool house by memory, having spent every summer of her life here. The lights outside didn’t illuminate the grounds near the wing that housed the maids who lived with them in the summer, but Bibi was still able to run through the shadows, past a laurel hedge and around the edge of the pool that, with its submerged light shining, shimmered an electric shade of aqua in the night. The pool house was unlocked and dark.
“Anybody here?” she whispered, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.
“For God’s sake, come in and close the door!” Stuart’s voice bounced off the walls.
The lock clicked behind her and Stuart drew all the curtains then snapped on a small lamp near the bed. A tiny pool of light cast warm shadows over the floral bedspread and matching chairs. “I can’t believe we’re sneaking around like a pack of thieves.”
Collin emerged from the kitchen. Balancing a wicker tray that was loaded with three filled glasses, he said, “Don’t we always? Face it, Stu, it’s our lot in life.” A look passed between them that she couldn’t read and Collin handed her a glass filled with amber liquid.
“It’s silly,” Stuart said, anxious to be his own man. For the past few years he’d been pulling at the bit, wanting more. Soon he’d graduate from college, then he’d put in a stint at law school and finally be able to step into the shoes that had been fashioned for him from the day of his birth.
“Silly, but necessary. Cheers.” Collin let him pick a glass from the tray, took another for himself, and tossed the empty wicker tray onto the bed. He clinked the rim of his glass to both Stuart’s and Bibi’s. “To the Three Musketeers.”
“Is that what we are?” Bibi asked as she sat on the edge of the mattress.
“Sure.” Stuart took a swallow from his glass and sprawled in one of the side chairs. “Always have been.”
“Not recently.”
“Maybe that’s all changed,” Stu said cryptically. “Come on, Bibi, relax. Drink up.”
For a reason she couldn’t name, she felt a speck of indecision. She wanted desperately to be close to them both again and yet there was something wrong here. Something that she couldn’t put her finger on.
“I thought this is what you wanted,” Stuart prodded.
“It is,” she said, reaching for her purse and finding a crushed pack of cigarettes. She lit up and calming smoke curled down into her lungs.
Collin stared at Bibi over the edge of his glass as he took a healthy gulp. His eyes were mesmerizing and Bibi’s throat was suddenly as dry as the Sahara in summer. Without another thought she sipped from the glass, felt the blended scotch burn a fiery path down her throat, and waited for the alcohol to hit her blood-stream. She needed that warmth now and it came quickly in a familiar rush. After the fourth or fifth swallow she felt her muscles soften and her doubts flee. She was with Stu and Collin again. What could possibly go wrong?
She wasn’t aware of time, didn’t even think that they might be missed from the party, but after a while—during the second or third drink and a like amount of cigarettes—Stuart, known for being able to hold his liquor and keep a level head—said he’d make a brief appearance back at the main house and field questions. If anyone asked about Bibi or Collin, he’d say they took a walk down by the lake or some such nonsense. No one, with the exception of Alicia, would doubt him for a moment. He breezed out through the back door and Bibi leaned back against the pillows of the big bed, used occasionally for weekend summer guests. She took a final drag of her smoke and squashed it in a bedside tray.
“Refill?” Collin asked, gathering up her half-drunk glass.
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, Bibi, that you are,” he said softly before disappearing into the kitchen. The way he said her name made her tingle inside, though she mentally called herself a fool. He was her cousin and therefore off-limits, but ever since she’d been a little girl, when he’d carried her across a creek, keeping her party dress clean while his own trousers had become sodden and muddy, she’d looked up to him. They’d been playing where they shouldn’t have, down by the swollen waters of Bright Creek on their grandparents’ property.
They lost track of time laughing and throwing rocks into the stream, and Stuart, realizing they were late, had yelled at them to hurry back. He’d crossed the water easily, by hopping from one slippery rock to another and was racing up the bank to Grandmother’s big stone house on the hill. This was the day Bonnie was to be baptized into the church. Bibi had nearly fallen in the creek and knew she couldn’t make the leaps that Stuart had. She’d started to cry when Collin, tucking his shoes and socks into his pockets, had carried her across the rushing water. But as careful as he’d been, mud had splashed up his pant legs, and by the time they’d returned to Grandma’s house, Collin was in deep trouble. His mother nearly fainted at the dirt and water stains on his new suit pants, and Frank, loving father that he’d always been, was furious with his son.
“Good for nothing!” he roared, his face mottled red. “Why don’t you ever use that brain that God gave you? Huh?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry’s not good enough!” Frank spewed and Bibi was suddenly scared. Uncle Frank’s face was twisted evilly. He looked like a monster.
“I messed up.”
“Bend over.”
Everyone stopped talking. Only the wind sighing through Grandma’s lilac tree made any noise.
“I said—”
“No! Father, please—”
Frank lunged at his son and threw him down on the grass with such force the air rushed from Collin’s lungs. “You’ll do as I say! Now stand up, bend down, and grab your ankles.”
Collin fought tears of shame. “I—I can’t.”
“Be a man for once!”
Shaking, Collin struggled to his feet. “Now!” Frank bellowed.
Collin’s face drained of color. “But sir, I’m too old—”
“Not too old to go playing like a two-year-old in the mud. Well, if you’re gonna act like one, then you’re gonna have to be treated like one.”
“Frank,” Grandma admonished softly.
“It’s good for the boy,” Grandpapa had stated, his pipe clamped firmly between his yellow teeth. “Give him character.”
“It was my fault!” Bibi cried.
Frank cast his niece a harsh look. “No doubt, but it doesn’t matter. Collin can think for himself. He’s made us late, kept the priest waiting, made us all look like fools. This is just to make sure it won’t happen again. Now, boy, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll grab your ankles.”
“Please, Frank! Not here.” Grandma Sullivan intervened.
“Stay out of it, Bernice,” Grandpapa said, watching the display with grim determination. “Collin needs to learn his lesson.”
Aunt Maureen looked away and fiddled with a long strand of pearls. Bibi’s parents didn’t say a word; they made it a practice to stay out of other people’s business.
Face flaming in shame, Collin bent over. In front of all his family, Frank spanked him with a Ping-Pong paddle. He bit his lips and fought tears as his father, red-faced and smelling of brandy, whacked him ten times, each smack echoing in Bibi’s heart. Sweating from the effort, Frank finally dropped the paddle and took a long, triumphant swig from his glass. “Now, go upstairs and change and never…do you hear me, never, let some little girl talk you into disobeying me or your mother again.” Collin, swallowing hard, marched in silent mortification from the patio. “And say a hundred Hail Marys while you’re at it.”
The back door banged behind Collin. Frank, as if suddenly aware of the reproachful eyes cast in his direction, rolled his palms to the sky. “What?” When no one said anything, again he shouted, “What?”
“It was
a little harsh,” Maureen said.
“It was wrong! Collin didn’t do anything but give me a piggyback ride!” Tears ran down Bibi’s face.
“You shouldn’t have put him in that position,” her father said. “Let’s get in the car.” Robert focused his gaze on Frank. “We’ll meet you at the church. Come on, Stuart.”
For the first time Bibi saw her brother, standing by the gazebo in Grandma’s rose garden. His face was white and he glared at his own father with hard eyes. “Don’t ever treat me that way,” he said to Robert.
“I won’t. Now, let’s get a move on.”
The children lagged behind their parents, and before climbing into the car, Stuart looked at Bibi with eyes that drilled into her soul. “I’d kill him,” he whispered, conviction edging every word. “If Frank were my father, I’d shoot him dead.”
“What can we do about Collin?” Bibi whispered.
“Nothing.” Stuart cast an angry look over his shoulder. “We can’t do anything yet. But someday—”
“Stuart. Bibi. Please! Get in the car.” Their mother Adele, was adjusting her hat in the front seat. “Let’s make sure our side of the family doesn’t look like Frank’s.” She shuddered and Bibi slid into the plush interior of the Mercedes. She knew her mother considered Frank to be a ruffian even though he’d been raised in the same family as her husband. “Sometimes there’s bad blood in the family,” she’d said often enough. “A throwback to some Neanderthal. That’s the problem with Frank. He’s filthy in mind and body!” For the most part, Adele kept her thoughts to herself and held her tongue. Family unity above all else was the motto she held dear to her heart. She’d been taught from an early age to bear incredible personal pain if it meant not compromising her social position or that of her family. But once in a while even she couldn’t hold her tongue.