Page 34 of Spyder
Chapter Fifteen
Bellamy
“Well, look at that smile on your face,” Ruby says as she steps into my classroom. “Either you just won the lottery or you got laid… and laid well.”
I laugh and give her a wide-eyed look as I put on my best scandalized face. “And why are those the only two options?”
She shrugs as she perches on the corner of my desk. “Them’s the rules,” she replies. “I didn’t make them.”
I shake my head but still can’t seem to manage to wipe the smile off my face. She gives me a knowing look and a grin. Ruby folds her arms over her chest and studies me closely, giving me that look she always used to give me when she wanted to pry some particularly juicy nugget of information or gossip out of me. I squirm beneath her scrutiny, realizing that look still holds as much power over me today as it did back in the day.
Whenever she turned that look on me, I always folded like the proverbial cheap suit. Ruby has never had an issue getting information out of me. She always knows what buttons to press. It’s like second nature to her and I’ve never been able to keep anything from her. It’s something that’s annoyed me forever.
“Since you’re at work today and didn’t show up in a Lamborghini, I’ll have to assume it was the latter,” she says. “So… who’s the lucky fella?”
“Shut up. Maybe I just bought a new pack of batteries last night and spent some quality alone time,” I say with a laugh, hoping my crass reply might derail her a bit.
“Babe, that smile on your face could never have come from a battery-operated boyfriend. That kind of smile, not to mention that glow about you, could only have come from a living, breathing boy toy,” she counters, obviously not derailed in the least.
Silence is probably the best defense I have right now, so I clam up and look down at the pop quizzes I’ve been grading since school has let out. Ruby clears her throat to get my attention and when I look up, she’s got a wolfish grin on her face.
“Tell me who he was, Bell,” she presses.
I laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Of course, I would. That’s why I asked you who it was.”
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
She laughs so hard she almost falls off the desk. “That’s some bullshit. You used to tell me every single kiss you got or hand job you gave back in the day.”
“Well, maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
She laughs. “We both know that’s crap,” she says. “C’mon, Bell. Let me live vicariously through you. You know I lead a very dull, boring life going home to the same man every single night. I need a little excitement.”
“A man you are head over heels in love with,” I point out.
“True. But I still need a little excitement now and again.”
I laugh and put the cap back on my pen and tap it against the stack of papers on my desk. I know she won’t like it. I know she thinks the worst of Derek and his biker buddies despite not knowing any of them. She thinks they’re drug-running gangsters and murderers. She believes everything people say about them. And while they’re definitely not the clean, white hat good guys, they certainly seem to be far from the black hat villains some paint them as.
When I say nothing as I ponder my words, Ruby’s eyes widen, and her mouth falls open into a perfect “O” as the realization dawns on her.
“It’s Derek, isn’t it?” she asks. “You slept with Derek.”
It was probably only a matter of time before she figured it out. People around town talk, and given how well connected she is, not to mention how damn smart, I kind of knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this from Ruby for very long. But I kind of wish I’d been able to keep my secret a bit longer simply because now comes the harsh judgment.
I love Ruby with all of my heart, but she always used to be a pretty harsh judge of people. And once you get on her naughty list, it’s next to impossible to get off of it. I hate to say it about her, but if she pegs you one way, the chances are good that she’s always going to see you that way. It’s terrible to say, but it takes a near act of God to change her opinion of you.
“Yes, I slept with Derek last night,” I admit.
Her smile slips and an expression of worry crosses her face. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I told you about the Pharaohs and—”
“And they’re definitely not what you and a lot of other people around here think they are,” I tell her.
“How do you know, though? Because he told you?” she presses. “I’m sure Ted Bundy told people he was a great guy, too.”
I laugh. “That is a ridiculous comparison,” I say. “He’s not a serial killer. That much I can tell you for sure.”
