This choice: Hire "Will Prescott" to tutor Chelsea • Go Back...Chapter #22Instructing the Tutor by: Seuzz   At lunch, Chelsea only picks at her food, but you don't chide her: you yourself only pick at it and for the same reason. A meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes with white gravy, green beans cooked in bacon fat, and biscuits—though delicious if you say so yourself—is not good for either a girl's complexion or her waistline.
But Rob bolts down enough for all of you, which was something else you were rather counting on, for after he helping you and Chelsea clean up the kitchen, he totters into the living room to collapse in a snoring heap on the sofa. After he's passed out and Chelsea is gone, you have the run of the things without distractions. You write Rob a short note, then grab up your keys and drive up to the mall. At a very long stoplight, you text Will Prescott.
* * * * *
"You're fucking with me!" your doppelganger gasps when you tell him the plan.
"No, I'm fucking with Chelsea," you retort. "And keep your voice down. This is a high class place."
You're meeting at Cafe Oro, a tea and coffee shop behind the mall. The Shoppes at Fell's Lake—as the cluster of boutique stores and eateries is called—is the toniest retail district in town. Arranged in a picturesquely crooked manner on the shores of what is either a tiny lake or an enormous pond, the green and red brick buildings with their black, sloping tile roofs look like something lifted out of Dickensian London, then buffed, polished, and bejeweled with bright glass windows and gleaming brass inlays. Cafe Oro itself is a hushed little cafe whose dark, cherrywood tables are covered with heavy, forest-green cloths and starchy napkins. You're enjoying a black tea flavored with peach syrup; your replacement is mindlessly guzzling a coffee that is at least three times more expensive than its equivalent at Starbucks.
"She'll never go for it," Will mutters.
"She won't have a choice. I'm her mother." You take a long sip from your tea, so your double gets a long moment to greedily drink you in before you snap his attention off your boobs with a sharp reminder. "And I'm your boss," you tell him. "You're not going to argue, are you?"
"Was that a question or an order? 'Cos you know I gotta do it if you make me, but I think I'm allowed to argue back."
"But why would you want to?"
"Because she's going to hate it."
"That's why I want to make her do it! What part don't you get?"
"Oh, I get it, all right. But I hate it because she's going to make it awful for me too!"
"It'll be ten time as awful for her," you retort, "so it'll be worth it. Don't forget, you've got that hex on you, and it's rubbed off on her. At least, she's picked up on a secondary effect."
"And she won't sit still," Will objects. "We'll get up to the library and she'll just stomp off and go find Gordon, and the two of them'll— What?" He breaks off. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Because I just got a great idea."
"Shit." Will covers his eyes with his hands.
You give yourself a full minute to luxuriate in the idea before you bother to explain it to your replacement.
"First of all," you tell him, "you won't be doing it up at the library. You'll be doing at her house. In the dining room. Where I can keep an eye on her so she can't run off and she also can't do anything to you."
"Wanna bet?"
"Oh, hush. But here's the really great idea." You grin so hard your cheeks ache. "We'll get Gordon to come out for the study sessions too."
Will's expression craters and all the blood drains from his countenance. It looks like the whole of his face might slide off the front of his skull. "Are you—?"
"You'll be fine," you assure him. "Remember, he's got the whole force of that hex on him. That's what made me think of it. He'll barely be able to look at you, let alone touch you. It'll be torture for him, sitting at that table with you and Chelsea. He'll either have to sit there, all in agony, taking that ... thing ... full in the face, or he'll run away."
"So he'll run away."
You grin. "And what will Chelsea do to him when he runs off? See, we win either way,"
Will buries his face in his hands again. "Is that all I am?" he grumbles. "A voodoo doll you can use to—?"
But you're not listening. The front door has opened and two women come striding in. They are dressed in power business suits: dark, gray skirts; trim, black jackets; bright white blouses. They would look sexy, except they're both in their mid-fifties and about forty pounds overweight between them. They carry heavy leather book bags.
The one in the severe black bun notices you smiling open-mouthed at her. She flinches just a hair, then with a tight smile swerves over to your table. "Hello, Kelly," she coos in a voice as flat and metallic as a sheet of aluminum foil.
"Sandra! You're not here on a business lunch, are you? It's Sunday!"
"There aren't enough business hours in the day. And this isn't Jordan, is it?" she asks, turning a critical eye on Will.
"No, this is my own business lunch. This is Will, he's a classmate of Chelsea's. I'm interviewing him for a, uh, tutoring job. For her!"
Sandra Blankenship's eyes widen. "Oh, Chelsea doesn't need tutoring, does she?"
"Every little bit helps. You haven't hired a tutor for Kelsey?"
"She's getting some interview coaching online." Sandra beams. "She doesn't need any help with her grades."
You feel the steel enter your spine. Kelsey's mother is just as bad as her daughter. "Well, I suppose she's got more time for it," you drawl. "Chelsea, bless her heart, doesn't have enough hours in the day, it seems like, between school work and cheerleading and her other extracurriculars."
Sandra's smile sharpens. "Well, Kelsey's got her own extracurricular activities, of course. She's absolutely going to be taking home a tennis trophy at the regionals."
"Well, that's wonderful for her!" Under the table you make a fist. "She was just the sharpest girl I think I ever met, takes after her mama that way! Well, I'll let you get on with your business." You flutter a couple of fingers at Sandra's companion, who is standing off to the side with a quizzical look. Sandra squeezes out one last, insincere smile and sweeps off to the most distant corner of the tea shop.
"That was Kelsey's mother," you mutter at Will. "You know, Blankenship."
"Yeah, I figured that out."
"You know, she was even more pissed off than Kelsey was when her little darling didn't get voted captain of the cheerleading team. That was sweet. How are Kelsey and her friends treating you, by the way?"
"About the same as always, I guess."
"You don't think they picked up the hex? That's too bad."
Pink spots show in Will's cheeks. "Look, boss, if I'm still allowed to argue—"
"You're not." You lift a finger to call for a ticket from the aproned waiter. "We need to set this up, first thing Sandra's going to do when she gets home is tell Kelsey that Chelsea's getting a tutor, so I need you to go on Facebook or someplace and put up an ad for tutoring services. Something I can show Chelsea when I tell her I've hired you."
"What do I say in the post?"
"I don't care. Something about tutoring in English and math."
"What do I tell other people who see it?"
"No one else is going to hire you."
"That's not what I meant! But if Caleb or Keith or—fuck me!—Carson and James see it, then—"
"So get it posted this afternoon so I can show it to Chelsea tonight. Then you can take it down before anyone else can spot it! What?" you ask after you catch him squinting hard at you.
"Oh, I'm just trying to figure out if turning yourself into Chelsea's mom made you so smart that I can't keep up, or if it made you so dumb that—"
He shuts up when you lift a warning finger to him.
* * * * *
After parting with Will you drive out to Blackwell's. Does Kelly Cooper have some kind of sixth sense about places and people? you wonder as you stride up the walk to the front door. Though it is late afternoon and the sun is shining through intermittent breaks in the soft clouds overhead, the villa looks and feels even deader and creepier than usual.
Up in the work room you find the Personae and the supplies in the unlocked cabinet where Blackwell keeps them, and set to work making a mens, the metallic strip that copies memories and personalities. Your plan is to sneak the thing onto Lucy Vredenburg so that you can directly inspect what she knows and thinks about Blackwell.
But you've just cast the mens when you hear the sound of tires nearby, and look out the window to see an SUV pulling up on the east side of the house. The wall hides most of the vehicle from sight, but you instantly recognize the platinum-blonde hair of the figure that gets out. It's Lucy Vredenburg herself!
Your heart instantly goes into your throat. What is she doing here? Is it okay for you to be here? What will she say if she finds you here? And what will she think when she finds the mother of Chelsea Cooper working away inside Professor Blackwell's house? You quickly shove your work back inside the cabinet.
But some small courage returns as you race back down to the second floor. You have at least as much of a right to be here as Lucy does, after all. And what right would she have to challenge Kelly Cooper's presence in the professor's house?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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