In other words, we’re screwed.
“Dean Porter, you’re looking lovely today, as always.”
Tyler Richland, knight in shining armor, strides out from behind the dean. I didn’t even hear him approach, which just shows how off-kilter I am about the stolen file.
The dean’s smirk turns sour with irritation as she turns to address Tyler. “The late bell is about to ring, Mr. Richland. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I was on my way there when I saw you,” he says smoothly. “My father asked me to tell you that he really appreciated your campaign contribution.”
The way Tyler emphasized the word father with a small pause afterward distracts the dean from her objective.
“He did?” she says, then clears her throat. “I mean, of course. I think his voting record is impeccable, and I’d like to see what he can contribute next term.” She flicks a sharp look at me.
“He’s hoping you’ll call him so he can thank you personally,” Tyler says, flashing a smile.
I’m intrigued. He seems to have a knack for the tale. I try to place why his style strikes me as familiar, and then I remember seeing his dad on TV. I’d never thought to equate politics to grifting before, but the comparison seems apt. Especially now, watching the way Tyler is playing the dean.
“I—well, I—” The dean’s hands flutter as if she doesn’t know quite what to do with them. “I mean, yes. I’ll do that.”
Then she flits off as if she never meant to check my bag. I wait till she’s rounded a corner before relaxing. Heather levels a death glare at me and hustles down the hall to her own class.
Tyler, on the other hand, seems happy to see me. His smile transforms from smooth to sincere when his gaze catches mine. Seeing the contrast between the two smiles is an unexpected bonus. It helps me get a better handle on him. If it’s this easy to tell when he’s working an angle and when he’s not, then I’ll have more warning if he tries something on me.
Not that I think he will try something. There’s no motive, for one thing. He may be the hottest thing to happen to the female population since hair product, but he’s still just a student at St. Agatha’s. He’ll no doubt be someone important someday, but right now he’s just a pair of amazing brown eyes and a tight—Um, well, you get the idea.
“That should give you time to hide whatever it is you don’t want the dean to see,” he says.
Okay, an observant pair of amazing brown eyes.
“Is it that obvious?”
“It is to the dean, which makes it obvious to everyone.”
“Fabulous.”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. It’ll take her at least an hour to get ahold of my dad.”
I lean against the doorframe, frowning at him. Despite my newfound and grudging respect for his skill, I’m still irritated about his spilling the beans to Valerie about the rat.
“So you’re following me now?”
He points at a nearby classroom filling with students. “I have Grosky for Spanish seventh period. And yes, I am following you.”
Cute. I make a mental note to have Sam download Tyler’s class schedule. Just because there’s no reason for Tyler to lie to me doesn’t mean I shouldn’t check.
“How did you know the dean has a thing for your dad?”
“She uses every imaginable excuse to call him personally. She goes out of her way to ask me how he’s doing. She almost swooned when he complimented her suit at last year’s fundraiser. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“Well, I’m impressed. I’d never have guessed she had the capacity for a crush. And you not only read her right but used it to your—well, my—advantage. I hate to say this, but I owe you one, cowboy.”
“You’ll owe me two when I help you catch the guy who put the rat in your locker.”
“About that,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’m miffed that you told Val when I asked you to keep it between us.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t tell her. She was there when I saw him.”
“She saw him, too?” Maybe my secret admirer isn’t really all that secret.
“No. He’d just left when she came up to me. She asked what I was looking at, and I told her someone put something in a locker and took off. I didn’t think anything more of it until you opened the locker and Rachelle screamed. Val must have put two and two together.”
I scan his features, using my new knowledge of his tells to determine whether he’s playing me like he played the dean. My gut says no—that about this, at least, he’s being truthful. Still, my reaction to him is troubling.
“I told you I wouldn’t tell, and I won’t,” he says, his voice soft, as if he’s trying to coax a feral kitten from a sewer.
I gaze at him a beat too long and then break eye contact, laughing softly at myself. “You’re good.”
“Am I?” he says, his smile back.
The late bell rings, jarring us both out of whatever we’ve stumbled into. I feel flushed all of a sudden.
“¿Quién necesita español?” Tyler says. “Let’s just go. I’m buying.”
“Actually,” I say, regretting the decision even as I’m making it, “I think I’ll pass on coffee.”
He looks disappointed.
“I have something else in mind,” I say.
“Like what?”
“Like a trip to Chinatown. You in?”
THE BOOKIE
Tyler has a shiny silver sports car—an Audi R8, to be exact. With fine Nappa leather that my petty-criminal butt has no business sitting on. The word aerodynamic is an insult to this car’s sleek, almond-shaped carapace. It looks more like a rocket ship than a car, which is why my knees are hugging the gearshift and I’m leaning toward the middle as Tyler guides it around turns at speeds that would make a Formula 1 driver sweat. I shouldn’t complain, though. Tyler volunteered to drive since I lack a car and Sam’s was unavailable.
Speaking of Sam, he’s going to burst a diode when he finds out I’m taking Tyler to see Ralph. Not that I blame him. I’ve really gone off the rails on this one. And what’s worse is that I have no idea why. This isn’t a game. The people who trashed my apartment are not in it for laughs. If I’m really going up against them, and it seems from this trip to Ralph’s that I am, then I have no right involving civilians. Especially this particular civilian. One whiff of scandal and his father could very well lose the upcoming election. Tyler certainly wouldn’t thank me for getting his pretty R8 repossessed.
So why am I involving him?
I grit my teeth and grip the door handle as my internal organs are left on the sidewalk across the street when Tyler rounds another corner.
“Where am I taking you again?” Tyler asks, breaking through my rambling thoughts.
“To see Ralph, my dad’s book—er, friend,” I say, coughing to cover the slip. It’s not that I think Tyler would tell. It’s just not my secret to share.
Which brings me back to wondering why I’m sharing my own secrets with Tyler. I’m not exactly reticent, but I do tend to keep to myself. He’s explained his interest. He’s kept the secret I asked him to. He’s even stuck his neck out to save me from the dean, or at least from my own stupidity in getting caught, and proven he has some natural talent in the grifting department. He could be—already has been, in fact—a real asset.