Genuine Fraud(53)

Jule matched it. “How come?”

“Nausea. It hit me right away, as soon as we started moving. Blech. Also I’m the only person on this thing who’s over the age of ten.”

“Besides me.”

“Besides you. I rode this carousel once when I was a kid. My family came here on a vacation. Today I was waiting for the ferry and I had an hour to kill, so I thought—why not? For old times’ sake.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Why are you on here? Do you have a little brother or sister somewhere?”

Jule shook her head. “I like rides.”

He reached across the space between them and held out his hand. “I’m Paolo Santos. You?”

She shook awkwardly, since both their horses were moving.

This guy was leaving the island. Jule was only talking to him for a minute or two; then she’d never see him again. It didn’t make much sense; it was an impulse—but she lied. “Imogen Sokoloff.”

The name felt good to say. It would be nice, after all, to be Imogen.

“Oh, you’re Imogen Sokoloff?” Paolo threw his head back, laughing and raising his soft eyebrows. “I should have guessed. I heard you might be on the Vineyard.”

“You knew I was here?”

“I should explain. I gave you a fake name. I’m really sorry, that probably seems crazy. Just a fake last name. It’s really Paolo. But not really Santos.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his forehead again. “It was a strange thing to do, but I figured we were only talking to each other for the next couple minutes. Sometimes when I’m traveling I like to be someone else.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m Paolo Vallarta-Bellstone. My dad, Stuart, went to school with your father. I’m sure you’ve met him.”

Jule raised her eyebrows. She had heard of Stuart Bellstone. He was a big financial guy recently sent to prison for what the news sites called “the D and G trading scandal.” His picture had been all over the news two months ago when the trial ended.

“I’ve played golf with your father and my dad a number of times,” Paolo went on. “Before Gil got sick. He always talked about you. You went to Greenbriar and then you started at—Vassar, was it?”

“Yes, but I dropped out after fall term,” said Jule.

“How come?”

“That’s a long and boring story.”

“Come on. You’ll distract me from my nausea and then I won’t be sick on you. It’ll be a win all around.”

“My dad would say I got in with party people and didn’t work up to my potential in my first semester,” said Jule.

Paolo laughed. “Sounds like him. What would you say?”

“I would say…that I wanted a different life than the one that was supposed to be my lot,” said Jule slowly. “Coming here was a way to get it.”

The carousel slowed to a stop. They got off their horses and walked out. Paolo grabbed a large backpack from a corner where he’d stashed it. “You wanna go get ice cream?” he asked. “I know the best ice cream place on the island.”

They walked along to a little shop. They argued about hot fudge versus butterscotch topping and then agreed that both at once would solve everything. Paolo said, “It’s so funny, your being here right now. I feel like we nearly met a million times.”

“How did you know I was on Martha’s Vineyard?”

Paolo ate a spoonful of ice cream. “You’re a little bit famous, Imogen, leaving school and going missing—then turning up here. Your dad asked me to call you when I was on the island, to be honest.”

“He did not.”

“Yeah. He emailed me. See? I called your number six days ago.” He pulled out an iPhone and showed her the recent calls.

“That’s a little creepy.”

“No, it’s not,” said Paolo. “Gil wants to know how you are, is all. He said you haven’t been picking up your phone, you’d left school, and you were out on the Vineyard. If I saw you, I should report back that you’re okay. He wanted me to tell you he’s having an operation.”

“I know he’s having an operation. I was just in the city with him.”

“So my efforts were wasted,” said Paolo, shrugging. “Won’t be the first time.”

They walked back to the harbor and looked at boats. Paolo talked about traveling to escape his father’s shattered reputation and the family fallout. He had graduated from college in May and was thinking about going to medical school, but he wanted to see the world before committing. He was going now to spend a night in Boston before getting on a plane to Madrid. He and a friend would be backpacking for a year or more—Europe first, then Asia, ending up in the Philippines.

His ferry was boarding. Paolo kissed Jule quickly on the lips before he left. He was gentle and confident, not pushy. His lips were a little sticky from the butterscotch sauce.

Jule was surprised at the kiss. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t want anyone to touch her, ever. But when Paolo’s full, soft lips brushed hers, she liked it.

She reached her hand to his neck, pulled him toward her, and kissed him again. He was a beautiful guy, she thought. Not all dominant and sweaty. Not all grabby and violent. Not condescending. Not all flattery and gold chains, either. His kiss was so gentle she had to lean in to feel it all the way.