The Murder Rule(14)
“You’re not what I expected,” I said, at one point.
“What were you expecting?”
I shrugged.
“A spoiled brat? Someone who doesn’t care about other people?
Someone who doesn’t appreciate what they have?”
It was a weird moment. I could tel he was kind of upset and I already liked him so it was hard not to feel a little sympathetic. But there was a definite hint of self-righteousness about him too. And, you know, he was standing there on his private beach complaining that the world didn’t understand him. So I said, “What do you care?”
and he mumbled something about people thinking they knew something about his life but not real y having a clue. I smirked, kind of. I wasn’t trying to be mean . . . but PLEASE!! Anyway he obviously saw the smirk and then he frowned at me, so then I started to feel a bit pissed so I said a few things.
“Maybe they do have a clue. Maybe it’s just that the stuff that matters to them doesn’t seem that important to you.”
“Like what?”
I started out easy. “Ever had a job?”
He flushed. “No.”
“Do you have a credit card that you don’t pay for? Are your parents paying your tuition? What about your friends? Do they al have money?” I was on a rol , so I kept going.
“Ever been homeless?”
“No, I—”
“Ever gone to bed hungry because you couldn’t afford food? Ever known anyone who’s had to go hungry?” He didn’t answer either of those, just looked at me sadly like he suddenly saw who I was, and I wanted to push him into the water. Instead of pushing him I kept talking. “That stuff—access to good food and a safe happy home life, a doctor when you need one. That seems like nothing to you because you’ve always had it. That and a hel of a lot more.” I had a sudden image of Tom at Thanksgiving, sitting in a fancy living room in a tasteful y decorated mansion, surrounded by his siblings and his loving parents. That hurt. That he’d had al that and didn’t even real y see it.
But then he told me that he had nannies when he was very smal .
That, when he was eight, his parents sent him to boarding school.
When he was eleven, three other boys beat him up so badly that he had to go to the hospital. His parents didn’t visit. Just made a concerned phone cal to the school principal. He wasn’t lying. I know a liar when I see one.
“Your mom?”
He shrugged. He had this smal , slightly embarrassed smile on his face, and I thought maybe he regretted saying anything. “She is who she is. She’s not a bad person. She’s just . . . being a mother doesn’t come natural y to her. I’m pretty sure she had us because it satisfied a condition in the prenup.”
I asked him why he’d told me. He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because you pissed me off.”
We went back to the house and he made sandwiches and we sat at the counter and talked about books (he likes Iain M. Banks, I like Terry Brooks, we both love Pratchett). I tried to find out more about Mike, without being too obvious. But I didn’t get much, other than the impression that maybe Mike’s family isn’t as uber-rich as the Spencers (they don’t have a yacht of their own, boohoo) and Tom hinted that Mike’s parents are going through a rocky patch, which was one of the reasons Mike wanted to get away from Virginia for a while. Tom said that their fathers are good friends but that he and Mike weren’t, particularly, before this trip. They hang out in col ege together, as part of a larger group of friends. It was Mike’s idea to come, to take the new boat up the coast and spend a week or two in Maine before heading back.
Mostly I was just happy that Mike wasn’t there and I didn’t have to see him or worry about anything bad happening to Tom, who genuinely seems to be a decent person, even if he is a bit sheltered.
When I got back to the hotel, I found out that I’d missed some drama. Marta’s sister cal ed while I was out and delivered the news that Marta’s precious boyfriend had cheated on her. Instead of cal ing the asshole and dumping him over the phone, Marta handed in her notice, forfeiting her end-of-season bonus, and packed her stuff, determined to run home and win him back. Why God, why??
Didn’t she read any Judy Blume when she was younger?? Forever is never real y forever. I did try to talk to her, but she just looked at me in a pitying you’l never know love kind of way that made me want to slap her, so I let her go. Now I have the room to myself, and while it’s lonelier than ever, I can’t pretend I’m sorry. It’s so nice to have silence.
Tom invited me back and I think I’m going to go. No more fake cleaning shifts though. That’s just weird. We’ve agreed that I’m not going to take any more jobs at the Spencer house, and if I come over it’l just be as friends. I’m hoping Rosa’l give me work at one of the other houses, so that I won’t miss out. And I’m looking forward to seeing Tom again. He’s interesting, he’s kind, and he’s funny. I like him, but . . . I don’t know. Can you ever be friends with someone when they’re rich and you’re broke? I guess, maybe, we’l find out.
Hannah
FOUR
TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2019
By Tuesday morning Hannah had a plan. Rachel had given her a starting point, with her little jibe about Hazel El ison failing to secure a job offer after her summer internship. On Monday night Hannah trawled through selected social media. She found that Sean had his social media accounts locked down on ful y private settings, but Camila’s were public and she posted a few times a week. Hazel was even more prolific. Between social media and the student newspaper, Hannah got al of the information she needed. Sean and Camila were both in their final year at UVA Law, and both had already accepted job offers from major law firms. Hazel was in her third year too, and had had a summer internship at McKnight Babbage in New York, but at the end of the summer there’d been no offer for her.