A Faint Cold Fear

6

Lena lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to breathe and relax the way Eileen, the yoga instructor, had told them to. Lena could hold every yoga pose longer than anyone else in class, but when it came to the cool-down period, she was a complete failure. The concept of “letting go” was against Lena’s personal religion of being in control of herself at every point in her life, especially where her body was concerned.

Their first therapy session, Jill Rosen had recommended Lena take up yoga to help her relax and sleep better. Rosen had given Lena a lot of coping advice in their short time together, but this was the only bit that took. Part of Lena’s problem after the attack was that she’d felt like her body was not her own. Because she was athletic from a young age, her muscles were not used to this idle life of moping around and feeling sorry for herself. Something about stretching and pushing her body, watching her biceps and calves return to their normal hardness, had given Lena hope, like maybe she could get back to her old self. Then the cool-down period came, and Lena felt the same way she had felt the first time she took Algebra in school. And the second time she had taken it in summer school.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the small of her back, trying to release the tension, but the effort made her shoulders draw up to her ears. Her body was as tight as a rubber band, and Lena did not understand why Eileen insisted this was the most important part of the class. All the enjoyment Lena got from stretching evaporated as soon as the music turned low and they were told to get on their backs and breathe. Instead of picturing a winding stream or the rolling waves of an ocean, all Lena pictured was a clock ticking away, and the millions of things she had to do as soon as she left the gym, even though today was her day off.

“Breathe,” Eileen reminded them in her irritatingly content monotone. She was a young woman of about twenty-five with the kind of sunny disposition that made Lena want to punch her.

“Soften your back,” Eileen suggested, her voice a low whisper designed to soothe. Lena’s eyes popped open as Eileen pressed her palm to Lena’s stomach. The contact only made Lena tense more, but the instructor did not seem to notice. She told Lena, “That’s better,” a smile spreading across her narrow face.

Lena waited for the woman to walk away before closing her eyes again. She opened her mouth, letting out the air in a steady stream, and was just starting to feel like it might be working when Eileen clapped her hands together.

“That’s good,” Eileen said, and Lena stood up so quickly she got a head rush. The rest of the students were smiling at one another or hugging the perky instructor, but Lena grabbed her towel and headed for the locker room.

Lena spun the combination on her lock, glad she had the room to herself. She glanced at herself in the mirror, then did a double take. Since the attack Lena had stopped looking in the mirror, but for some reason today she felt drawn to her reflection. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and her cheekbones were more pronounced than usual. She was getting too thin, because most days the mere thought of food was enough to make her feel sick.

She took the clip out of her hair, letting the long brown strands fall around her face and neck. Lately she felt more comfortable with her hair down, like a curtain. Knowing that no one would be able to get a good look at her made Lena feel safe.

Someone came in, and Lena walked back to her locker, feeling stupid for being caught in front of the mirror. A skinny guy stood beside her, taking his backpack out of the locker next to hers. He was standing so close that she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Lena turned around and snatched up her shoes, thinking she could put them on outside.

“Hi,” he said.

Lena waited. He was blocking the door.

“That hugging stuff,” he said, shaking his head like this was something they joked about all the time.

Lena looked him over, knowing she’d never talked to this kid before in her life. He was short for a guy, just a little taller than she was. His body was wiry and small-framed, but she could see his well-defined arms and shoulders beneath the black long-sleeved T-shirt he wore. His hair was cropped close to his head in a military style, and he was wearing lime green socks that were so bright they were almost painful to look at.

He held out his hand. “Ethan Green. I joined the class a couple of weeks ago.”

Lena sat down on the bench to put on her shoes.

Ethan sat at the other end. “You’re Lena, right?”

“Read it in the papers?” she asked, working at a knot in her tennis shoe, thinking that fucking article they ran on Sibyl had made her life even more difficult than it had to be.

“Noo-o,” he said, drawing out the word. “I mean, yeah, I know about you, but I heard Eileen call you Lena, so I put two and two together.” He flashed a nervous smile. “And I recognized the picture.”

“Smart kid,” she said, giving up on the knot. She stood, forcing her foot into the shoe.

He stood, too, holding his backpack close. There were only three or four guys who took yoga, and they invariably ended up in the locker room after class, spewing some line about how they did yoga to get in touch with their feelings and explore their inner selves. It was a great ploy, and Lena guessed that the male yoga students got laid more often than any other guys on campus.

She said, “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, a half smile at his lips. He was an attractive kid, probably used to having girls fall all over him.

“What?” She looked at him, waiting. A small bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, past a two-pronged scar just below his ear. He must have gotten the wound dirty before it closed, because there was a dark tint to the scar that made it stand out against his jawline.

He smiled nervously, asking, “Would you like to go get some coffee?”

“No,” she told him, hoping that would end it.

The door opened, and a stream of girls flowed in, banging lockers open and shut.

He said, “You don’t like coffee?”

“I don’t like kids,” she said, grabbing her bag and leaving before he could say anything more.

Lena felt rattled as she left the gym, and pissed off that she’d let that kid catch her off guard. Even after climbing the uphill battle called relaxation, Lena always felt calmer when she left a yoga class than she did when it started. Now that was gone. She felt tense again, jumpy. Maybe she would drop off her bag at her room, change, and go for a long run until her body was so tired that she could sleep away the rest of the day.

“Lena?”

Lena turned, expecting to see the kid again. It was Jeffrey.

“What?” she asked, instantly feeling her defenses go up. Something about the way he stood close to her, his stance wide apart, his shoulders squared, told her this was not a social visit.

“I need you to come down to the station with me.”

She laughed, but even as she did, Lena knew he wasn’t joking.

“It’ll just be a minute.” Jeffrey tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’ve got some questions to ask you about yesterday.”

“Tessa Linton?” Lena said. “Did she die?”

“No.” He looked over his shoulder, and Lena could see Ethan about fifty yards behind him. Jeffrey stepped closer, lowering his voice, saying, “We found your fingerprints in Andy Rosen’s apartment.”

She could not hide her surprise. “In his apartment?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

“Because I didn’t,” Lena snapped. She started to walk away, but Jeffrey put his hand on her arm. His grip wasn’t tight, but she knew it could be.

He said, “You know we can run your underwear for DNA.”

Lena could not remember the last time she had felt so shocked. “What underwear?” she asked, too surprised by what he was saying to react to the physical contact.

“The underwear you left in Andy’s room.”

“What are you talking about?”

He loosened his grip on her arm, but it had the opposite effect for Lena. He told her, “Let’s go.”

Lena said what anybody with half a brain would say to a cop who was looking at her the way Jeffrey was now. “I don’t think so.”

“Just a few minutes.” His voice was friendly, but Lena had worked with Jeffrey long enough to know what his real intentions were.

She asked, “Am I under arrest?”

He seemed insulted. “Of course not.”

She tried to keep her voice calm. “Then let me go.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“Make an appointment with my social secretary.” Lena tried to pull her arm out of his grasp just as Jeffrey’s hand tightened again. Panic welled up inside her. “Stop it,” she hissed, trying to jerk her arm away from him.

“Lena—” he said, as if she were overreacting.

“Let me go!” she screamed, yanking away so hard that she fell back onto the sidewalk. Her tailbone connected with the cement like a sledgehammer, pain shooting up her spine.

Suddenly Jeffrey lurched forward. Lena thought he might fall on her, but he caught himself at the last minute, taking two big steps around her.

“What the . . . ?” Her mouth opened in surprise. Ethan had pushed Jeffrey from behind.

Jeffrey recovered quickly, and he was in Ethan’s face before Lena could tell what was going on. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Ethan’s voice was a low growl. The goofy boy Lena had talked to back in the locker room had been replaced by a nasty pit bull of a man. “Fuck off.”

Jeffrey held up his badge a few inches from Ethan’s nose. “What did you say, boy?”

Ethan stared at Jeffrey, not the shield. The muscles in his neck stood in stark relief, and a vein near his eye pulsed strongly enough to give him a visible tic. “I said fuck off, you goddamn pig.”

Jeffrey pulled out his handcuffs. “What’s your name?”

“Witness,” Ethan said, his tone hard and even. He obviously knew enough about the law to realize he had leverage. “Eyewitness.”

Jeffrey laughed. “To what?”

“To you knocking this woman down.” Ethan pulled Lena up by the arm, his back to Jeffrey. He slapped dirt off her pants, ignoring Jeffrey, telling her, “Let’s go.”

Lena was so shocked by the authority in his tone that she started to follow.

“Lena,” Jeffrey said, as if he were the only one being reasonable. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Ethan turned, his fists clenched, ready for a fight. Lena thought he was not only stupid but insane. Jeffrey had at least fifty pounds on the younger man, and he knew how to use them. Not to mention that Jeffrey had a gun.

Lena said, “Come on,” jerking Ethan away by the arm like she was tugging his leash. When she dared look back over her shoulder, Jeffrey stood where they had left him, the look on his face telling her this was far from over.

Ethan put two ceramic mugs down on the table, coffee for Lena, tea for him.

“Sugar?” he asked, taking a couple of packets out of his pants pocket. He was back to being a goofy nice kid again. The transformation was so complete that Lena was not sure whom she had seen earlier. Today was so fucked up, she did not know if she could trust her memory on anything.

“No,” she said, wishing he were offering her whiskey instead. No matter what Jill Rosen said, Lena had rules, and one of them was that she never drank before eight at night.

Ethan sat down across from Lena before she could think to tell him to go away. She would go home in a minute, after she got over the shock of what had happened with Jeffrey. Lena’s heart was still pounding in her chest, and her hands shook around the mug. She’d never met Andy Rosen in her life. Why would her fingerprints be in his apartment? Never mind the fingerprints—why would Jeffrey think he had Lena’s underwear?

“Cops,” Ethan said, the same way someone might say “pedophiles.” He sipped his tea, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t have interfered,” she told him. “And you shouldn’t have pissed off Jeffrey like that. He’ll remember you the next time he sees you.”

Ethan shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

“You should be,” she said, thinking he sounded just like every other disaffected suburban punk whose parents had been too busy arranging golf dates to teach their kids to respect authority. If they had been in an interview room at the police station, she would have slapped that smug look right off his face.

She told him, “You should’ve listened to Jeffrey.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, but he kept it under control. “Like you did?”

“You know what I mean,” Lena told him, taking another sip of coffee. The liquid was hot enough to scorch her tongue, but she drank it anyway.

“I wasn’t gonna stand around and watch him push you like that.”

“What’re you, my big brother?”

“It’s just cops,” Ethan said, playing with the string on his tea bag. “They think they can push you around because they’ve got a badge.”

Lena took umbrage at his remark and spoke before she could think about what had just happened. “It’s not easy being a cop, mostly because people like you have that same shitty attitude.”

“Hey, now.” He held up his hands, giving her a puzzled look. “I know you used to be one of them, but you gotta admit that guy was pushing you around.”

“He was not,” Lena said, hoping he gathered from her tone that no one pushed her around. “Not until you came along.” She let that sink in. “And speaking of which, where the fuck do you get off putting your hands on a cop?”

“Same stop he got off on,” Ethan shot back, anger flashing in his eyes again. He glanced down at his mug, recovering some of his calm. When he looked up again, he smiled, as if that smoothed everything over.

Ethan said, “You always want a witness when a cop starts to go off on you like that.”

“Got a lot of experience with it?” she asked. “What are you, twelve?”

“I’m twenty-three,” he said, but he did not seem to take her question the way she had intended. “And I know about cops because I know about cops.”

“Yeah, right.” When he just shrugged, she said, “Let me guess, you went to juvie for knocking over mailboxes? No, wait, your English teacher found some pot in your book bag?”

He smiled again, not quite laughing. She could see that one of his front teeth was slightly chipped. He said, “I got mixed up in some stuff, but I’m not that way anymore. Okay?”

“You’ve got a temper,” she said, though it was more an observation than a criticism. People were constantly telling Lena she had a quick temper, but she was Mother Teresa compared to Ethan Green.

He said, “I’m not that kind of person anymore.”

She shrugged, because she could not care less what kind of person he was. What Lena cared about right now was why the hell Jeffrey thought she was connected to Andy Rosen. Had Jill Rosen told him something? How could Lena find out?

“So,” he said, like he was glad they had gotten that out of the way, “did you know Andy well?”

Lena felt her guard coming back up. “Why?”

“I heard what the cop said to you about your panties.”

“He didn’t say ‘panties,’ for one.”

“And for two?”

“For two, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

He smiled again. Either he thought it made him charming or he had some kind of weird Tourette’s.

Lena stared at him, not saying anything. Ethan was a little guy, but he’d managed to make up for it by developing every muscle in his small frame. His arms did not bulge like Chuck’s, but his delts stood out as he played with the tea bag hanging inside his cup. His neck looked strong but not thick. Even his face was toned, with a solid jaw and cheekbones that jutted out like pieces of granite. There was something about the way he lost and regained his control that was fascinating, and on any other day Lena would have felt tempted to see if she could force him over the edge.

He said, “You’re like a porcupine. Anybody ever tell you that?”

Lena did not answer. As a matter of fact, Sibyl had said the exact thing to her all the time. As usual, the thought of Sibyl brought tears to her eyes, and she looked down, swirling the coffee in her mug, watching it cling to the sides.

She looked up when she thought she had sufficiently masked her feelings. Ethan had picked one of the trendy new coffee places on the outskirts of campus. The small space was packed even at this time of day. She looked over her shoulder, thinking Jeffrey would be there, watching her. She could still feel his anger, but beyond that, what stung was the way he had looked at her, like Lena had crossed the line. Not being a cop was one thing, but being a hindrance to a case—maybe even being involved in a case but lying about it—would put her squarely on his shit list. Over the years Lena had pissed off Jeffrey more than her share of times, but today she knew without a doubt that she had lost the one thing she had worked her ass off to get: his respect.

At the thought of this, a cold sweat broke out all over her body. Did Jeffrey really think of her as a suspect? Lena had seen Jeffrey work before, but had never been on the other end of one of his interrogations. She could see how easily someone could talk their way into a jail cell, even if it was for a couple of nights while Jeffrey worked something out. Lena could not spend even a second in a locked cell. To be a cop, even an ex-cop, in jail was a dangerous thing. What was Jeffrey thinking? What evidence did he have? There was no way her fingerprints could be in Rosen’s apartment. She did not even know where the kid lived.

Ethan interrupted her thoughts. “This is about that girl who was stabbed, huh?”

She looked at him, demanding, “What are we doing here?”

He seemed surprised by her question. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because you read that article in the paper? Am I fascinating to you because I was raped?”

He glanced around nervously, probably because her voice had gotten louder. She thought about taking it down a notch, but everyone in the room knew that Lena had been attacked. She could not pay for a Coke at the movie theater without the asshole kid behind the counter glancing down at the scars on her hands. No one wanted to talk to her about it, but they were more than happy to talk with one another behind her back.

“What do you want to know?” she asked him, trying to keep a conversational tone. “Are you doing some kind of project on it for school?”

He tried to make light of it. “That’s more like sociology. I’m in materials science. Polymers. Metals. Composites. Tribomaterials.”

“I was nailed to the floor.” She showed him her hands, turning them so he could see where the nails had gone all the way through. If she still had her shoes off, she would have shown him her feet, too. “He drugged me and raped me for two days. What else do you want to know?”

He shook his head, like this was some big misunderstanding. “I just wanted to take you out for coffee.”

“Well, you can mark that off your list now,” she told him, finishing her cup in one swallow. The hot liquid burned in her chest as she put the mug down on the table with a bang and started to stand. “See you around.”

“No.” Lightning fast, he reached out and wrapped his fingers tightly around her left wrist. The pain was almost unbearable, sharp jolts traveling up the nerves in her arm. Lena remained standing, keeping her expression neutral even though the pain made her stomach roll.

“Please,” he said, his hand still clamped on her wrist. “Just stay for another minute.”

“Why?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. If he squeezed her wrist any tighter, the bones would probably break.

“I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy are you?” she asked, letting herself look down at his hand.

He waited a beat before letting go of her wrist. Lena could not stop the small gasp of relief that hissed out between her lips. She let her hand dangle beside her, not testing the bones and tendons for damage. Her wrist throbbed as the blood rushed through, but she would not give him that satisfaction of looking down.

She repeated herself. “What kind of guy are you?”

His smile was far from reassuring. “The kind of guy who likes to talk to pretty girls.”

She gave a sharp laugh, looking around the coffeehouse, which had started to empty out over the last few minutes. The man behind the counter had been watching them, but when Lena caught his eye, he turned around to the espresso machine like he had been cleaning it all along.

“Come on,” Ethan said. “Sit down.”

Lena stared at him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“What makes you think you hurt me?” she asked, though her wrist was still throbbing. She bent her hand, trying to test it, but the pain stopped her. She was going to pay him back for this. There was no way this kid would get away with hurting her.

He said, “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I hardly know you,” she told him. “And in case you didn’t notice, I’ve got some problems of my own right now, so thanks for the coffee, but—”

“I knew Andy.”

Her mind clicked back to Jeffrey and what he had said about Lena being in Andy’s apartment. She tried to read Ethan’s expression to see if he was lying, but she could not. The threat from Jeffrey came rushing back to Lena. She asked him, “What do you know about Andy?”

“Sit down,” he said, more an order than a request.

“I can hear you fine from here.”

“I’m not gonna talk to you standing up,” he said, sitting back in his chair, waiting.

Lena stood beside the chair, debating her options. Ethan was a student. He was probably privy to a lot more gossip than Lena was. If she could get some information about Andy for Jeffrey, maybe Jeffrey would reconsider his crazy accusations. Lena felt herself smile at the thought of throwing Jeffrey clues that would break the case. He had made it clear that she was not a cop anymore. She would make him regret cutting her loose.

“Why are you smiling?” Ethan asked.

“It’s not for you,” Lena said, turning the chair around. She sat, hanging her hands over the back even though the pressure made her wrist feel like it was burning from the inside out. There was something seductive about controlling the intensity of her own pain. It made her feel strong for a change.

She dangled her hand, ignoring the ache. “Tell me what you know about Andy.”

He seemed to be searching for something to tell her but finally admitted, “Not much.”

“You’re wasting my time.” She started to stand, but he held out his hand to stop her. Ethan did not touch her this time, but the memory of his grip was enough to keep Lena in her chair.

She asked, “What?”

“I know someone who was close to him. A close friend.”

“Who?”

“Do you party?”

Lena recognized the drug-culture euphemism. “Do you?” she asked. “You into E or what?”

“No,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Are you?”

“What do you think?” she snapped. “Was Andy?”

Ethan stared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to figure something out about her. “Yeah.”

“How do you know if you’re not into it?”

“His mom’s at the clinic. It’s kind of like good gossip that she can’t help her own kid.”

Lena felt the need to take up for Jill Rosen, even though Lena had thought the same thing about the doctor. “There’s only so much you can do for people. Maybe Andy didn’t want to stop. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough to quit.”

He seemed curious. “You think so?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, but part of her now understood the lure of drugs like she never had before the rape. “Sometimes people just want to escape. To stop thinking about things.”

“It’s only temporary.”

“You sound like you know about it.” She glanced down at his arms, which were still covered by the sleeves of his shirt even though it was warm inside the building. She suddenly remembered him from class the week before. He had been wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt then, too. Maybe he had track marks on his arms. Lena’s uncle Hank had nasty scars from shooting up dope, but he seemed almost proud of them, as if quitting speed made him some kind of hero and the needle marks were battle scars from a noble war.

Ethan saw her looking at his covered arms. He tugged the sleeves down farther on his wrists, “Let’s just say I got into some trouble and leave it at that.”

“Right.” She studied Ethan, wondering if he could give her anything useful. Lena wished to God she could pull his sheet—and there was no doubt in her mind that Ethan Green had one—and use it as leverage to find out what she needed to know.

She asked, “How long have you been at Grant Tech?”

“About a year,” he said. “I transferred from UGA.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t like the atmosphere.” He shrugged, and she read more in the shrug than anything else. There was something defensive about his posture, even though what he said made perfect sense. Maybe the school had kicked him out.

He continued, “I wanted to be at a smaller college. UGA is a jungle right now. Crime, violence . . . rape. It’s not the kind of place I need to be.”

“And Grant is?”

“I like things slower,” he said, playing with the tea bag again. “I didn’t like the person that being on that campus made me. It was just too much being there.”

Lena understood, but she did not tell him so. Part of the reason she’d left the force—other than Jeffrey’s giving her an ultimatum—was that she needed less stress in her life. She had never anticipated that working with Chuck could be even more stressful in a lot of ways. She could have found a way to bullshit Jeffrey and still keep her job. He had never asked for proof that she was seeing a shrink. Lena could have lied and made everything okay instead of ruining her life. Hell, she’d ended up ruining it anyway. Less than an hour ago, Jeffrey had looked ready to take her away in handcuffs.

Lena’s tried to think of anything that would connect her to Andy Rosen. There must have been some kind of mistake. Maybe she had touched something in Jill Rosen’s office that had ended up in Andy’s room. That was the only explanation. As for the underwear, that would prove itself out soon enough. Though, what made Jeffrey think it was hers? Lena should have talked to him instead of pissing him off. She should have told Ethan to mind his own fucking business. He had been the one to escalate things with Jeffrey, not Lena. She hoped to God Jeffrey knew that. Lena had seen how Jeffrey could behave when he turned against somebody. He could make real trouble for her, not just in town but at the college. She could lose her job, not have a place to live or money to buy food. She could end up homeless.

“Lena?” Ethan asked, as if she had drifted off.

She said, “Who’s this close friend of Andy’s?”

He mistook the desperation in her voice for authority. “You sound like a cop.”

“I am a cop,” she answered automatically.

He smiled without humor, as if she had just admitted something that made him sad.

“Ethan?” she prompted, trying not to show how panicked she was.

“I like the way you say my name,” he told her, like it was a joke. “All pissed off.”

She gave him a scathing look. “Who was Andy hanging out with?”

He thought about it, and she could see that he liked keeping the information from her, liked holding it over her head. Ethan had the same look on his face he’d had when Lena’s wrist was about to crack in his hand.

“Look, don’t fuck around,” she told him. “I’ve got too much shit in my life right now without some dumb kid holding out on me.” She caught herself, knowing that Ethan was her best bet for gathering any information on Andy Rosen. “Do you have something to tell me or not?”

His mouth set in a tight line, but he did not answer her.

“Right,” she said, preparing to leave again, hoping he would not see through her bluff.

“There’s a party later on tonight,” he relented. “Some friends of Andy’s will be there. This guy I’m thinking of, too. He was pretty good friends with Andy.”

“Where is it?”

He had that same superior look in his eyes. “You think you can just walk right in and start asking questions?”

“What is it you think you can get from me?” Lena asked, because it was always something. “What do you want?”

Ethan shrugged, but she could read the answer in his eyes. He was obviously attracted to her, but he liked to control things. Lena could play that game; she was a lot better at it than some twenty-three-year-old kid.

She leaned over the back of the chair, saying, “Tell me where the party is.”

“We got off on the wrong foot,” he said. “I’m sorry about your wrist.”

Lena glanced down at her wrist, which had a dark purple bruise forming where his fingers had pressed into her bones.

She said, “It’s nothing.”

“You look scared of me.”

Lena was incredulous. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“Because I hurt you,” he said, indicating her wrist again. “Come on, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“You think after what happened to me last year I’m scared of some little boy trying to hold my hand?” She gave a derisive laugh. “I’m not scared of you, you stupid twat.”

His expression pulled another Jekyll and Hyde, his jaw working like a bulldozer’s shovel.

“What?” Lena said, wondering how far she could push him. If he tried to grab her wrist again, she would kick the shit out of him and leave him bleeding on the floor.

Lena goaded, “Did I hurt your little feelings? Is little Ethie gonna cry?”

His voice was even and controlled. “You live in the faculty dorm.”

“Is that supposed to threaten me?” Lena laughed. “Big deal, you know where I live.”

“I’ll be there at eight tonight.”

“Is that right?” she asked, trying to see his angle.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Ethan said, standing. “We’ll check out a movie, then go to the party.”

“Uh,” she began, waiting for the joke, “I don’t think so.”

“My guess is you need to talk to Andy’s friend and try to get that cop off your back.”

“Yeah?” she said, though she knew it was true. “Why is that?”

“Cops are like dogs; you gotta be careful around them. You never know which one is rabid.”

“Great metaphor,” Lena said. “But I can take care of myself.”

“It’s a simile, actually.” He hefted his gym bag over his shoulder. “Wear your hair back.”

Lena balked. “I don’t think so.”

“Wear it back,” he repeated. “I’ll see you at eight.”