Reputation(72)
Alexis places her hands on her knees. “We’ll find a guy with money. We’ll seduce him. He’ll pay us off, and we’ll both get what we want—you’ll get to go to Aldrich, don’t worry.” She assesses me over her tumbler. “You’re good at this. You got Strasser to pay your tuition. I found out about your little deal with that doctor up north, too.”
I bite my lip. “I’m guessing this isn’t your first rodeo, either?”
Alexis shrugs noncommittally, her gaze returning to the laptop.
“Are you going to tell me anything true about yourself?” I ask. “It’s only fair.”
“Fair how?” She watches me, her long, slender fingers hovering over her keys. And then she laughs. “What, you’re trying to tell me you were your real self with me? Come on. You’re full of shit, too.”
I pretend to study an ugly landscape painting hanging on the far wall. The thing is, I was honest with Alexis—about some things, anyway. Like what I told her about Aldrich. What I told her about how she and I should do everything together. And that kiss was sure as hell honest, unfortunately.
The screen on Alexis’s laptop lights up, and she types something into Google. After a moment, a website appears. I figure it’s going to be the hack site—we could probably easily find out someone’s net worth and sexual proclivities through their e-mails—but instead, it’s a meet-up page. Naughty Pittsburgh reads a red, sexy font at the top. There’s an image of three women shot from the neck down in bondage gear, and a description talks about how the page is for people interested in BDSM and other naughty behavior to connect.
“Okay . . .” I say, wrinkling my nose.
“Oh, don’t be a prude.” Alexis clicks through to a login site. After keying in her user name and password, she’s into the group, and the page directs to a message board with post titles like Dom looking for a Sub and Pet looking for a Master. “This place is a gold mine to find people who are up to no good but don’t want anyone to know about it—they all use stupid code names. And I think I’ve found the perfect mark.” She clicks a message thread and scrolls down to a screen name: BigDaddy23. Some guy has written a post asking if there’s anyone near Aldrich College looking for “unusual role-play.”
“There’s no way we can tell this guy has money just based on his post,” I point out. “For all we know, he lives in this building.”
Alexis doesn’t seem amused. Then she looks back to the screen. “Lucky for you, I’ve already done some research. Last weekend, I went to a munch.”
I inch away from her on the couch. “What is that, a disease?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s a casual get-together for people into this stuff. The organizer of the meet-up reserved a back room at Ali Baba’s, and people dropped in to hang. It’s for people who are curious. To make the whole thing less scary. I didn’t talk to anyone, but I did a lot of watching. And I found someone. I looked him up, and he has a lot to lose—his reputation at his job, his wife, family . . .”
“Do you have a picture?”
She scoffs. “Uh, no, he wasn’t really up for a photo at a secret sex role-play get-together. You’ll just have to trust me on this one. He’s the real deal. Plus, he’s cute.”
“So what are we going to do?” I ask warily.
She clicks back to the meet-up page. “I’ve already put a post saying that there are two hot girls up for anything, ready to meet. A lot of people have replied, but I’m waiting for him to bite. It’s just a matter of when.”
“So you and I are going to have to do something . . . together?” I say slowly.
Alexis gives me a sly look. Slowly, her hand encircles my wrist. “That kiss we shared the other day? I know you want to do it again.”
Heat rushes through me. I want to push her away. But she’s right. I push a lock of hair over my shoulder. “And you’re sure he’ll pay up?”
“Positive.” Alexis leans back, but she’s still watching me. “You can’t chicken out.”
I think of the papers I still need to write, the commitments I still have, even the intimidating questioning from Willa Manning this morning. I shouldn’t be getting into more trouble. Yet at the same time, how else will I get to stay at Aldrich? Without Greg, there’s no money coming in. My bank account is almost at zero.
And if I can’t stay at Aldrich, that means . . . what? The answer is clear: If I don’t do this, how else can I work toward what I promised Greg I’d become—a different person?
“Fine,” I say, standing up, ready to go. “Just tell me when.”
26
WILLA
THURSDAY, MAY 4, 2017
I squint in the early afternoon sunlight, shading my eyes to get a better view of the apple trees. A tractor pulling an empty trailer filled with hay rumbles over the pitted ground. It stops close to where Paul and I are standing. A man in muddy jeans, a plaid shirt, and a Pirates ball cap jumps out of the cab and undoes the back latch so we can climb aboard.
I turn back to Sienna and Aurora, who are poking around the huge bin of leafy broccoli at the farm stand. “Are you sure you don’t want to come on the ride?” I ask them for the third time. I’d invited Paul to come along to discuss some things I’d found out about the case, but at the last minute, I’d invited Sienna and Aurora, too, figuring a trip to Round Acres Farm would at least get them out of the house.