The Lies They Tell(9)
Four
THEY WERE BACK the next day, this time numbering only two: Bridges and Tristan. The ma?tre d’ seated them in Indigo’s section, beneath the windows on the far wall. Tristan spread his napkin in his lap, and then his hands lingered there, like he’d forgotten his task. Pearl glanced away, keeping her hands busy counting change.
What had been on their itinerary this morning? Sleep until ten, maybe. Linger over coffee and girl-watching in one of the shops on Ocean, then hit the club pool with the rest of the members’ kids until it was fashionably late enough for lunch.
When Pearl circled back from the kitchen, Bridges sat alone at a booth in her section.
“Hi,” he said. “You didn’t call.”
“You should go back to your table.”
He really was the smilingest person she’d ever seen. “Let’s do this right.” He stuck his hand out. “Bridges Spencer. Nice to meet you.” She looked at his hand. “Your turn.”
She tapped her name tag. “The a is silent.”
He laughed. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” She gave him a quick, hard handshake. “So. I’ve seen you around a lot.” He sat back, getting comfortable. He had a slender build, blue eyes the color of faded denim, a nose with a slight upward tilt. “What do you do when you’re not working?”
From the corner of her eye, Pearl caught a flash of bright color. The Malhotras were crossing the dining room with their friends and business partners, the Fraziers; Akil trailed a few feet behind, earbuds in place. Akil’s mother wore a fuchsia sundress with a matching shrug, her husband more subdued in the preppy dad uniform of polo shirt and khaki shorts. When Akil saw Tristan, he split off from the adults without a word and joined him at the table. Akil’s father, an elegant, imposing man, didn’t so much as look his way, but his mother did, her brow wrinkled, lips compressed.
“You still with me?” Bridges touched her hand.
“I really can’t talk right now.”
“Okay. I get it, you’re busy. But listen. There’s a party tonight. Nothing crazy, just some people getting together. I figured, if we’re both going, you know . . . why not go together?”
She stared. “You don’t even know me.”
“I want to. That’s how people get to know each other, right? By hanging out?” He paused. “Isn’t it?” He surprised a soft snort of laughter out of her. “No pressure. Think about it. We’ll be here awhile.”
“Excuse me? Miss?” The Wootens signaled her from table five.
Pearl took a breath, released it in a rush. “I’ll let you know.”
At the register, Pearl printed the Wootens’ check, watching Tristan openly around the monitor. Her mouth was dry, fingers ticking off points on her thumbnail. A summer kids’ party. Nobody from town went to those. If she were somebody else, somebody like Indigo, maybe she could do it. Cross that invisible line to the place where people like Tristan existed, see him in his natural habitat. See what he knew. Because that was one thing everyone agreed on, from locals down to conspiracy theorists online: the son knew something.
A few moments later, Indigo came around the partition at the end of the room, Reese close on her heels. Pearl stepped back. The tension between those two was electric today; everyone had picked up on it. Indigo hadn’t spoken a word to Reese since the shift began, tossing her head and finding something else to look at whenever he passed by. Pearl kept thinking about the phone call he’d blown off in favor of hanging out with her last night. Triumph blossomed briefly, then died as she watched Reese catch Indigo’s elbow, turning her back, whispering something close to her face. Indigo said nothing, but she allowed him to steer her through the ballroom doorway, where they disappeared.
By the time they came back, Pearl had delivered checks to two more tables. From the corridor, she watched their brief exchange as they stood mostly concealed in the doorway, watched Indigo’s hand steal up and squeeze Reese’s ass before they went in opposite directions.
Pearl felt heat, then chill. She shut her eyes for a moment, then went into the kitchen to place another order.
She waited until the boys were done eating before going over to them, sensing more than seeing Tristan shift his attention her way. Bridges stopped stirring his straw in the ice at the bottom of his glass. “I’ll go,” she said abruptly. “Tonight.” Her heart was galloping.
“Really?” Bridges pushed his sun-bleached hair back, grinning. “Cool. Where can I pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you.”
“Okay. Whatever. Yacht club, slip D12. I drive a Talon. Can’t miss it.”
While Akil smirked openly at them, Tristan’s look was unfocused, as if she and Bridges were a reality show, one he’d soon turn off if they didn’t start doing something interesting. “What time?” Pearl asked.
“Nine-ish?”
She nodded and left, slowly sinking into the truth of what she’d done.
Pearl checked her phone one last time. No texts, no missed calls. Well, one from Mom, but she didn’t plan on returning that anytime soon. All Mom would want to do was quiz her about Dad—was he taking care of himself, eating well, staying away from the Tavern—and Pearl was in no mood.
It wasn’t like she’d made plans with Reese tonight. They never made plans. Things either fell together or they didn’t. The difference was, this time it was because she had something else to do. No doubt he was busy, too, or she would’ve received a summons by now. I’m bored. Come over. Help me feel safe enough to sleep. Apparently, that was one service Indigo didn’t provide.