Page 73 of Something Like Summer
Chapter 21
There was no good cop, badcop in this interrogation. Only bad cop, and he wanted answers. Ifneed be he would cut off his prisoner from food or water. Or refuseto pay his share of the rent, or something.
“Sophomore year,” Allisonreported from the couch, while Ben stood over her, arms crossedlike an angry parent. “I would always pass him after composition. Inoticed him right away, but it took Tim ages to see me.”
“But one day he did andstopped to talk to you?”
“Mm-hm. The first thingout of his mouth was a question about you. He wanted to know whereyou were, how you were doing.”
“And?”
“I didn’t tell himanything. Well, I said you were in Chicago, but that wasit.”
“Was I still?”
“No. I lied and would haveagain today if you hadn’t been there.” Allison crossed her ownarms. “I did it to protect you.”
“You could have told me. Iwouldn’t have run off to meet him.”
“No, but you would haveended up in that hallway one day, just out ofcuriosity.”
Ben’s shoulders sagged. Heknew she was right.
“So, anythingelse?”
“Not really. EventuallyTim gave up trying to pump me for information and we didn’t seeeach other after that year.”
Ben sat down on the couchand leaned against her for support. “Do you think I should answerwhen he calls?”
“No. Think aboutJace.”
“Why? Talking on the phoneisn’t cheating. It’s not like I’m going to have phone sex with himor something.”
Allison didn’t answer rightaway. Ben could tell that she was holding something back, trying todecide whether it would help or harm her case. Ben waited. If shedecided not to tell him, he would force it out of hersomehow.
“I’ve heard things,”Allison said at last.
“Go on.”
“Tim has a sugardaddy.”
“What do you mean?” Benasked, his stomach clenching.
“Some old guy. I don’treally know details, but he’s supposed to be rolling in it. Youreally think someone as pretty as Tim is hanging around a rich oldguy for fun?”
Ben didn’t reply. He didn’twant to imagine his high school sweetheart grunting over some oldbag of bones for cash. Maybe he shouldn’t take Tim’s call. Whytarnish his memories even further with more luriddetails?
“Why don’t you call Jaceinstead?” Allison suggested.
She was right, of course.That’s just what he would do.
* * * * *
Summer burned and blazedwith a vengeance, as if it had something to prove. Ben tossed andturned in bed, the sheets tangled up around his legs. The windowair conditioning unit couldn’t cope with more than mild warmth, sohe had shut it off and opened the other window. Cicadas buzzedoutside, invigorated by the heat.
Ben had stripped down tohis underwear but was still sweating as he drifted in and out ofsleep. He hadn’t called anyone that night and no one had calledhim. Ben had fiddled with Tim’s phone, looking at the storednumbers and wondering what sort of people were on the other end.Each male name listed was a leering old man in Ben’s mind,clutching a wad of hundred dollar bills in one hand while gesturingto the bulge in his plaid trousers with the other. Then there wasthe number listed as “Home.” Where did that lead to? A place ofTim’s own, or to his parents back in the The Woodlands? EventuallyBen grew tired of wondering and longed for the blissful limbo ofsleep. He left the phone on the pillow beside him, and it was stillthere when it began to buzz like a bee.
Ben groped around until hefound the vibrating phone. He answered blearily, forgetting that itwasn’t his own. “Hullo?”
