Chapter 21

Kendall slept most of Saturday. The few times she got up, I forced water on her. Her nose eventually cleared up, but her headache and upset stomach lasted most of the day. Her stuffed-up nose was probably from the cocaine (“coke nose,” Felicia had called it), but also I recognized the classic signs of a hangover when I saw them.

While Kendall slept, I puttered around the house. My parents called, concerned that they hadn’t been able to reach me the night before. They had even called Elizabeth Coulter, who had driven to our house, only to find it dark and empty.

I told Mom that Kendall and I had gone out to dinner and a late movie. I didn’t broach the subject of my “emergency” spending, though. I wanted to save that for when I could talk to her face to face.

I assured her that everything was fine, and promised to call Elizabeth to set her mind at ease as well. Mom said that they were having fun in New York City and then asked if I wanted her to bring anything back. After my spending spree from the previous night, though, I decided to forego anything from New York.

Finally, we said goodbye and hung up.

Since Kendall was still sleeping off her hangover, I decided to work out. I had a lot on my mind, and I was going crazy without anything to do.

My initial anger and frustration over Kendall’s cocaine use had cooled, but I was still disturbed by it. As I did crunches, I thought about what I wanted to say to her. I went over imaginary conversations in my head, but all of them ended badly.

Then I began thinking about why cocaine was “wrong.” It was illegal, but why? Who said it was wrong? Society?

A lot of people would say that nudism was wrong. But that didn’t make it true.

An even larger number of people would say that swinging was wrong as well. But Susan and my parents had always taught me that love and communication were the keys to a good relationship, rather than sexual fidelity.

Trust was definitely important, but it was possible to have sex with another person without breaking the bond of trust in a relationship. My parents were living proof of that. They were an exception to the rule, but they were the “norm” I was familiar with.

So if society said that nudism and swinging were wrong—but I was raised to know better—what was different about cocaine? What was different about any drug, for that matter? Who made the rules about what was right and what was wrong?

As I launched into another round of exercises, I chuckled darkly at my philosophical turn. I still wasn’t happy about Kendall’s cocaine use, but the line between “right” and “wrong” had blurred a little.

Still, I felt that cocaine was “wrong.” I saw what it did to Felicia. She wasn’t a junkie on the street, but she was definitely under the spell of the drug. For that matter, Kendall had been as well, if only for a little while. She had turned into a different person when she snorted the white powder.

In the end, I decided that cocaine seemed like nothing but trouble. I could rationalize that society had arbitrarily decided that it was “wrong,” but I still couldn’t avoid the conclusion that I thought it was wrong.

I had been raised to avoid drugs, and for most of my life, I had. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was making the same subjective decision that society had, but I couldn’t deny my values. My parents had spent more than eighteen years instilling them, and I wasn’t going to revolutionize my attitude in an afternoon.

Finally, I resolved to talk to Kendall. I wouldn’t take a hard line, and I’d try to be understanding, but I wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

I couldn’t know how cocaine made her feel, but I could try to understand why she’d felt the need to use it. I knew her well enough to know—to hope—that she’d want to avoid drugs in the future.

As I mechanically did push-ups, I began my imaginary conversation with Kendall. I hoped the real conversation would go as smoothly as it did in my head.

Unfortunately, things rarely go as well as we hope.

“I know it was wrong,” Kendall said, “but I just couldn’t stop myself.”

We were in the Jeep, driving to Chattanooga. It was Sunday evening. I had avoided the Cocaine Talk (as I’d come to think of it in my head) until then. Kendall and I had watched TV on Saturday evening, and then spent a quiet Sunday together, but the events from Friday night hung over us.

“When we were in the bathroom at the restaurant and Felicia offered me a bump,” Kendall explained, “I started to say no. But then I thought, ‘what the heck! I’m good all the time.’ I wanted to have fun. I wanted to get wild.”

“You can get wild without cocaine,” I said as evenly as I could.

“Sure, but Felicia was so cool, and I didn’t want to seem like a square.”

“So you snorted coke instead? I mean, I managed to say no.”

“Then I guess you’re a better person than me,” she snapped.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I soothed. “I’m sorry.”

“Paul, you don’t know what it’s like,” she said. “It made me feel so alive. I could do anything. I could ask you to do what I wanted, instead of being embarrassed. You don’t know what it’s like to be me sometimes. Everybody expects me to be the good girl, to get good grades, to speak properly, to look nice, to go to church. Aaaah! I’m going crazy inside!”

I looked at her, a little shocked.

“‘Oh, Kendall’s such a good girl. Kendall’s going to be a doctor. Kendall gets straight As,’” she mocked. “‘Kendall would never have sex. She’d never do drugs. She’s so pure and good.’ I hate it, I tell you. I’m not like that. I’m not some straight-laced prude.”

“No, you’re not, but cocaine isn’t the way to prove that.”

“I know,” she said softly, reserved once again, “but ... I guess you just don’t understand what my life is like. Everyone has all these expectations for me, but what about me? What about my expectations? Can’t I go out and have fun every once in a while without someone thinking I’m a slut, or a drug addict, or ... or worse?!”

“Sure you can, but—”

“Then why don’t you understand about the cocaine? It’s not like I’m on the corner buying the stuff. I’ve used it twice, Paul. Twice.”

“That’s another thing,” I said when she paused to take a breath. “The other time was with Big Mistake Guy, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, her mood changing drastically. “But that was a big, big mistake. That’s why I wanted to try ... it—the cocaine, I mean—with you. I knew you wouldn’t...”

“Wouldn’t what?” I asked, dangerously quiet.

“I knew you wouldn’t take advantage of ... the situation.”

“The situation?”

“You know...”

I shook my head.

“Did you realize how horny it made me?” she asked by way of answer.

I nodded.

“I knew I was safe with you. Besides, I wanted to go wild with you. I wasn’t worried about...”

When the silence drew out, I asked, “What happened with you and Big Mistake Guy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she half-whispered.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t. I’m not proud of what happened, and ... and I don’t really want to relive it.”

I nodded silently. Inside, however, I was burning with curiosity. I wanted to know what had happened, but I didn’t want to force her to tell me. In any event, my silence convinced her to explain.

“His name was Wes,” she said softly, so softly that I almost missed it. “I met him last year, and I guess I thought he was a nice guy. But that girl I told you about...,” she continued, “Hayley?”

“I know who she is,” I said.

“Oh, that’s right, Gina hangs out with her now, doesn’t she.”

“She doesn’t really ‘hang out’ with Hayley,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “But she knows who she is. Anyway, what happened with Hayley and Big Mistake Guy?”

“They were both in my Western Civ. class, and I thought Hayley was my friend. But she’s just evil, Paul,” Kendall said, with more venom in her voice than I’d ever heard. Then she sniffed and wiped her cheek.

I had a similar opinion of Hayley, but I was curious about how she had managed to earn Kendall’s enmity.

“She invited me to a Carnicus party at one of the Pike guys’ houses, because she knew I kinda liked Wes. I swear, though, I wasn’t going to do anything with him,” she said, imploring me. “You know how you can be attracted to someone without doing anything, right?”

I nodded; I knew exactly how she felt.

“By then,” she continued, “I knew Gina was coming to UT, and I was angry. You were supposed to come to UT by yourself, and we could be boyfriend-girlfriend ... just the two of us. But Gina was going to spoil everything,” she added bitterly. “She’s so selfish. She always has been, and I’m the only one who’s seen it.”

I clenched my jaw, but didn’t speak.

Kendall caught my reaction and hastily returned to her story. “I swear,” she continued, wiping her cheeks, “I didn’t mean to do anything with Wes. Hayley could tell that I was angry, though. She said I should have fun and maybe even get drunk. I thought she was being my friend. Now I know different—I don’t think she was ever my friend. Anyway, I guess I was a lot angrier than I realized. I decided to go to the party because ... well ... I don’t know why. I was just angry and frustrated and ... and ... I wanted to scream.”

I kept my eyes on the road, but my thoughts were awhirl. So many things from the past couple of months were starting to make sense. I’d known that Kendall wasn’t happy that Gina had come to Knoxville, but I hadn’t realized that the events surrounding Big Mistake Guy also had to do with Gina’s decision to attend UT.

“I guess I had too much to drink,” Kendall said, her voice heavy with self-recrimination. Then, “I know I had too much to drink. So when Hayley offered me some cocaine, I said yes. And it made me feel so good, as if this golden glow surrounded me, and I didn’t care that Gina was coming with you. ‘I’ll show her,’ I remember thinking. ‘If she wants to fuck everything that moves to get Paul’s attention, then I can too.’”

Gina hasn’t fucked everything that moved, I thought crossly. But I held my tongue.

“I don’t really remember exactly how it happened,” Kendall said, drawing my attention back to her story, “but the next thing I knew, Wes was taking my clothes off. Then he was on top of me... inside me. I’ll spare you the gory details,” she whispered hoarsely, “but I’d done some more coke, so I was ... well ... I guess I wasn’t myself.”

“Did you tell him to stop?” I asked, my emotions under rigid control.

“At first, I ... I didn’t want him to stop. It ... it felt good. Besides, I wanted to prove to you that I could be just like Gina. I know that’s silly,” she said, wiping her eyes, “but that’s what I remember thinking. Then I started to feel guilty, so I told him to stop. He didn’t, of course,” she said, full of bitterness. “It’s my own fault, though, for being there in the first place.

“But it got worse,” she said, sniffing miserably. “As soon as he ... finished ... I heard applause. Oh, Paul, it was horrible. I looked up and a bunch of people were on the balcony above us. They were cheering! I was humiliated, and they were laughing. What kind of people do that?” she asked plaintively. “Hayley was there, that evil bitch. She probably set the whole thing up. ‘Let’s take Kendall out and get her drunk,’” she mocked, suddenly vicious. “‘Let’s get her high. Let’s watch some Greek asshole have sex with her.’ I trusted her, Paul,” she raged.

“She told all the other people at the party, too,” Kendall continued. “Everyone who hadn’t seen, at least. They all thought it was so funny. And by Monday, a bunch of other people had heard about it. Even Bridget Jameson said she heard ‘some dreadful rumors.’ Bridget! She’s the sweetest, nicest person in the world, and even she heard about what happened. The Chi Os and Pikes must’ve told everyone,” she said.

Then she looked at me, defiant and angry. “Now do you understand why I hate Greeks?! I hate them, Paul. They use people. That’s all they do,” she railed. “Bridget and Toni are okay, but they’re the only ones who had anything nice to say to me. They felt sorry for me. But all the others...,” she added with quiet ferocity, “all the others can ... can ... can go to hell!”

For several minutes, we drove in silence. I didn’t know what to say, and Kendall was consumed by her bitterness and anger.

“The worst part was,” she said, turning despondent, “I remember how good the coke made me feel. I was still humiliated, and I felt guilty because it was my own fault, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the cocaine. So that’s why I wanted to ... you know ... to try it with you,” she said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And, Paul, it felt good. I wanted that feeling again, but with the right person, instead of some lowlife Greek,” she said, trying to convince me. “I know it was wrong ... but I just couldn’t help myself.” Then she looked at me, tears streaking her face, her mascara a black mess. “Do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” I said.

“You probably think I’m a slut. I knew I shouldn’t’ve told you,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t understand—”

At that point, I pulled to the side of the interstate and came to a stop.

Kendall looked at me, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“No, I don’t think you’re a slut,” I said, meeting her gaze and holding it. “And I definitely understand.” My anger had cooled, but I wouldn’t soon forget what Hayley and the Greeks had done.

“When I did the coke with Felicia, I just wanted to have fun,” Kendall said, her voice thick with emotion. “I just wanted to have fun with you. And ... I wanted to erase that awful memory of Hayley’s face as she laughed and cheered.”

When I pictured Hayley in my mind, I practically snarled. I want her dead, I thought viciously.

“What’s the matter?” Kendall asked suddenly.

I shook off my violent thoughts and returned to reality, to the girl next to me.

“You do think I’m a slut, don’t you,” Kendall accused half-heartedly.

“No,” I said firmly. “Hayley’s the slut. You just trusted the wrong person,” I added. Then I pulled her into my arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

While traffic whizzed past us, I held her as she wept.

When we reached her house, Kendall was composed. She was still upset—about the past, as well as the pain of revealing it—but her tears had dried and she’d fixed her makeup. Fortunately, her father was working late on a case, so we didn’t have to explain to him why she was so distraught.

In her room, we talked some more, but for the most part, I simply held her. She promised not to do cocaine again, and even apologized for trying it in the first place. With all that she’d told me in the past couple of hours, though, cocaine was the least of my worries.

By the time I left, she felt better, and even gifted me with a wan smile after I kissed her goodbye. I, on the other hand, felt like murdering Hayley Devlin. And if I ever got my hands on Wes—whatever his last name was, Kendall wouldn’t tell me—I’d kill him too. He deserved worse: something involving hot pokers, dull knives, or both.

The problem wasn’t that Kendall had sex with another guy; I’d seen that often enough myself. But sex wasn’t supposed to be about humiliation. Nor was it something you did to someone, especially when they were high on drugs.

Kendall had been guilty of bad judgment, of getting drunk and trying drugs. Wes had been guilty of rape, as far as I was concerned. Hayley was guilty of using oxygen that a human being could’ve used instead.

When I got home, my parents had returned from New York City. I wasn’t in the mood to hear about their trip, though, so I welcomed them home and went to my room. Mom knocked on my door about an hour later.

“Is everything okay, honey?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She could hear the lie in my voice.

“Okay, no,” I said at last, “everything’s not okay.”

She came in and shut the door. “Is Kendall all right? Did something happen while we were gone? Was it Friday night?”

“It’s not Kendall,” I explained. “And nothing happened Friday night,” I fibbed. “It’s something that happened to her a while ago. She ... she just told me about it.”

Mom nodded for me to continue.

“I don’t really wanna go into details,” I said at last. “I’m angry enough as is. If I have to think about it any more, I’ll wanna kill someone.”

“Is it something her father should know about?”

“God, no,” I said hastily. “He’s got a gun; he would kill someone.”

Mom was silent for a long moment, letting me think.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said at last. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

She nodded and then quietly left me to my dark thoughts.

Over the course of the following day, I went from hot fury to cold anger. First, I was angry with Gina, simply because she was associated with the Chi Os. I had to laugh at myself for that, though. I had fallen into the same trap as Kendall: blaming Gina for something she didn’t have anything to do with.

Of course I was angry with Hayley, Wes, and anyone else who’d been at that party (Rod?), but I couldn’t really do anything about the past. I guess I also blamed myself, for failing to protect Kendall. I know it’s stupid, since I wasn’t even in Knoxville when Big Mistake Night happened, but that’s how I felt.

When I talked to Kendall on Monday night, our conversation was strained at first. I got the impression she was worried that I was angry with her for what happened with Big Mistake Guy (I refused to call him Wes, even in my head).

Even though she blamed herself, it wasn’t her fault. I made that point a little more vehemently than I intended, but she knew me well enough to understand that I was upset about the situation, not her self-ascribed guilt.

Tuesday afternoon, I went out by myself to finish some Christmas shopping. I needed to buy a couple of small presents for my family, especially my grandparents. In addition, I still had to buy private gifts for Kendall and Gina. Even though they probably wouldn’t get together and compare, I didn’t want to get them the same thing. Unfortunately, I had no idea what to buy either of them.

On the other hand, I had finally settled on what to get Susan, who was extremely hard to buy for. Fortunately, I could make her present, although it would take several hours (if not more). As I drove toward Perimeter Mall, I mentally scheduled the time to do the work.

When I got to the mall, it took me fifteen minutes just to find a parking place. Once inside, what should have taken an hour took almost four. By the time I left, I was sick and tired of crowds. I had managed to get my grandparents’ gifts, as well as a few for my family, but I still needed to buy a private present for the girls.

Since I’d already spent so much on Kendall, I wasn’t going to spend much more on her, but I needed to buy her something special to open when we were alone. I already had two things, but they were small; I needed something a bit more impressive.

I also had to buy a private gift for Gina, and lingerie seemed like a good idea. I hadn’t bought her any in a while, so I thought she’d enjoy something new. Besides, she’d have the opportunity to model it for me, which we’d both enjoy.

As I passed the shopping center with Felicia’s store, I decided to pull in. It wasn’t as crowded as the mall, but there were still a lot of cars in the parking lot. Eventually, I found a parking place and headed inside.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” a harried salesgirl said as I entered.

“I’ll help him,” another voice said.

I turned.

Felicia smiled at me. Then she said goodbye to her current customer, who was headed for the door, laden with shopping bags full of recent purchases. “Howdy, stranger,” Felicia said brightly.

“Howdy, yourself,” I said.

“You look great!”

“Thanks,” I said. “You look pretty good yourself.”

After an awkward moment, she turned demure. Then, softly, she said, “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“Here I am,” I said, laughing nervously. Why had I come to this store to buy lingerie, I wondered. I knew why, but I guess I didn’t want to admit it.

“We close in half an hour,” Felicia said. “Do you wanna get a drink someplace?”

“I can’t get a drink,” I hedged. “At least not until I’m nineteen. Remember?”

“Oh yeah, right! Well then, d’you wanna get dinner someplace. Or,” she said, suddenly enthusiastic, “I could fix you dinner. I grill a mean T-bone.”

Part of me wanted to politely decline. But a growing part of me—below the belt, of course—wanted to accept.

“Please,” she said. “No strings attached. Okay?”

“I’d love to, but...”

“C’mon, let’s do something. Please? We can do anything you want.”

I got the clear impression that “anything” meant anything. In retrospect, I was breaking “bachelor lesson number one”; I was shopping for groceries when I was hungry (metaphorically speaking, of course). In other words, it had been a couple of days since I last had sex, and with Felicia practically begging me to fuck her, my judgment was a little suspect.

Okay, maybe it was a lot suspect.

“Anything,” she repeated, stepping close and looking up with wide, dark eyes.

“I’ve got to finish my Christmas shopping,” I said evasively.

“I can help you. I don’t mind. I need to do some last minute shopping myself.”

Against my better judgment, I caved.

With that, she practically beamed at me. Then she stretched upward for a kiss. I wondered what I was getting myself into as she gave me a peck on the cheek. I knew what I was getting myself into, of course, but I couldn’t decide if I wanted to fight it or not.

For the next thirty minutes, I browsed the shop while Felicia helped last-minute customers. I spent the time usefully, though, and found a sheer white chemise and a matching pair of panties for Gina. Felicia arched an eyebrow when I paid for them, since they weren’t Kendall’s size.

“They’re for a friend,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as lame as I thought I did.

Felicia’s eyes momentarily sparkled, until she realized that they weren’t her size either. She bounced back quickly, though, and said, “Whatever, sure. Just let me clock out and get my coat, and then I’ll be ready to go. Okay?”

“No problem,” I said, taking the bag with my purchase as she headed toward the back of the store. I milled around for a few minutes, simply watching the remaining customers leave the store.

“Ready, willing, and able,” Felicia said when she returned.

It took me a moment to realize it, but she had changed clothes. The differences were subtle, but important: her black skirt was shorter than before, and she had traded her businesslike sweater for a tighter one with a deep V-neck. And I couldn’t help but notice that her breasts swayed freely, the bumps of her braless nipples casting shadows in the light from above.

“Do you mind if I ride with you?” she asked as I helped her don her coat. “I’ll leave my car here and you can drop me off later. Or, if you want, you can ju—”

“That sounds fine,” I said, heading off the invitation I knew was coming.

Her face fell, but then she forced a smile.

Once in the Jeep, she asked what I wanted to shop for. After a moment’s reluctance, I explained that I needed to find a couple of private gifts for Kendall. (I lumped Gina’s gifts in with Kendall’s, since I didn’t want Felicia asking questions about my complex relationship. If she knew I already had two girlfriends, she might not understand my reluctance for a third.)

“I know just the place,” she said enthusiastically. “Head for the airport.”

“Why? What’s there?”

“This sex shop I know about. It’s also a head shop, but they’ve got the kinds of things you’re looking for.”

With only a few misgivings, I followed her directions. What is it about sex shops? I wondered when we arrived. It was dingy and dreary looking, and I felt like I needed a bath just looking at it.

“C’mon,” Felicia said excitedly, “let’s go.”

Inside, it was much like the shop in Knoxville: racks full of magazines, video tapes, and sex toys. Unlike the shop in Knoxville, though, half the store was devoted to bongs, pot pipes, psychedelic statues, black-light posters, scales, and a myriad of things whose use I couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“Do you know what you want?” Felicia asked. Then she grabbed my hand and led me toward the sex toys.

We browsed for a few minutes and then she grew excited.

“Remember I told you about these?” she asked, holding up a small box with a drawing of two spheres. “Ben Wa balls?”

I nodded. As I recalled the vivid memory of her internal muscles, my dick began to swell.

“You could get these for Kendall,” she suggested.

It wasn’t a bad idea, but I didn’t want to appear too eager, because I didn’t want her to offer to show me—again—what kind of muscles she’d developed using the balls. Well, I wanted her to offer, but I didn’t want to disappoint her by turning her down. So I smiled noncommittally and gave the box a faux-casual examination.

“They’ll really spice up your love life,” Felicia urged. “Trust me.”

“Sure,” I said at last. “Good idea.”

We browsed some more, and Felicia made sure to stick close. She held my arm, and pressed her breasts against me as often as she could. I knew what she was doing, of course, but I couldn’t really tell her to stop. Worse, I didn’t want to tell her to stop. My dick, of course, was as hard as steel and seemed to be cheering her on.

Treacherous organ.

“Hey,” Felicia said, “how about one of these?” With that, she held up a box containing an extremely realistic dildo. “It’s not as big as the real thing,” she said, gesturing toward my crotch, “but I think Kendall would like it.”

In reality, I didn’t think Kendall would like it one bit; I thought it would intimidate her. After all, she didn’t even have a vibrator, so she probably wasn’t ready for a veined and lifelike rubber cock. On the other hand, Gina would love it. “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” I said at last. Then I reached for the box.

“I’ll hold your cock for you,” Felicia said playfully, pulling the box from my grasp. “Do you want me to take it out for you?” she asked, her eyes round and innocent-seeming.

“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “Just leave it in the box.”

“You want to leave your cock in my box?” she asked. Then she batted her eyes.

I’m sure I turned six shades of purple.

“You’re cute when you blush,” she said.

“Um ... thanks.” My dick was throbbing and my willpower was crumbling at the same rate. If I didn’t get away from Felicia, I knew what was going to happen. So I wanted to pay for everything and then take her back to her car. Unfortunately, she had other ideas.

“How about these?” she asked, holding up a gold chain with clamps on each end.

“What are they?”

“Nipple clamps,” she said. “You put ‘em on like this,” she explained, demonstrating on her own sweater-clad nipple. Her eyes flashed in challenge as she fastened the second clamp over her other nipple.

“I don’t think Kendall would like anything like that,” I said.

“But she said her nipples are really sensitive.”

“Still,” I equivocated, “I think they’re probably too far out for her.”

For the next several minutes, Felicia seemed bent on fondling everything on the shelves. I knew that she was stalling for time, of course, but it was working. Once, she even lifted her skirt to demonstrate how a strap-on butterfly vibrator worked. She wasn’t wearing panties, of course.

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” I finally asked, hoping to get her talking, so she’d stop teasing me with sex toys. It was probably the wrong question, but it was the only one my sex-fogged brain could come up with.

“I’ve used most of this stuff before,” she said, her finger tracing the valley between her breasts.

“You said you were a virgin when what’s-his-name ... Ronny ... seduced you,” I said. I tried to keep from glancing at her stiff nipples, but it didn’t work. “So where’d you learn about all this stuff?” I continued, my eyes once again locked on hers. “From Naldo?”

“God, no. Naldo’s good in bed, but he’s real traditional.”

“Then where?” I asked.

She turned sheepish. “I had this boyfriend on the side, about a year ago,” she explained after a moment. “A lawyer. He was a super-freak. I mean, he was into everything: nipple clamps, anal beads, cock rings, hot wax, feathers, you name it.”