Casting Doubt Page 4

  My phone dings and I grab it from the dresser and glance down at the text. It’s a generic one from a number I don’t recognize. Mass Message to residents. Water damage to a number of rooms. We will keep you updated.

  “What the hell?”

  They don’t list my complex or apartment, nor is anyone else tagged in the text. Of course, they could be blocking the personal information.

  This can’t be happening.

  “Don’t panic!” I click on my contacts and tap the number to the complex manager. Instead of anyone answering, it goes to voicemail. It’s three in the afternoon; somebody should be in the office.

  Unless they’re dealing with a crisis.

  Shit.

  Do I drive to Vassar and find out what the hell is going on? I can’t ignore it. What if there’s damage in my apartment? It will have to be dealt with now, not later.

  If I do go, I’ll have to cancel on Jesse, which majorly sucks.

  I try the complex manager again. This time on her cell. Again, no answer.

  Shit!

  I really have no choice.

  As much as I hate this, I call Jesse. When he answers, I quickly explain.

  “Well, you’ve got to go.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I was looking forward to tonight.” I want him to know I’m not just trying to get out of the dinner, or dumping on him.

  “We can go out Friday.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I already planned on actually taking you to dinner, if you wanted to go. Larry agreed to babysit for me.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” I assure him. “We can eat in.”

  “I want to go out. I rarely have a chance to. And, I want to take you out.”

  I smile into the phone. “Sorry about tonight.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It can’t be helped.”

  I’m not exactly in the same good mood when I get home as I was before I left for school, but it isn’t Deirdre’s fault. If I got a text like that and couldn’t get ahold of anyone, I’d go check on my apartment too. It just sucks because I was looking forward to spending time with her, and being able to talk to her without interruption.

  Larry is upstairs in the apartment and is just carrying Cam from the back. She has him wrapped in a towel.

  “I thought I’d bathe Cam so you wouldn’t have to worry about it.” She pauses in the living room. “With your big date and cooking dinner, Cam will already be ready for bed.”

  I drop my backpack on the table and take my son. “Thanks, but the plans are cancelled.”

  Larry frowns. “Really?”

  “There’s been an incident with her apartment and Deirdre needs to go back to Vassar and check on it.”

  She smile’s for a split second and then frowns. “That’s too bad.” The quirk of her lips is gone so quickly I’m not sure if I imagined it or not. Does Larry not like Deirdre? Not that it matters because I sure as hell am not taking dating advise from a sixteen-year-old.

  “Oh well, can’t be helped,” I say and carry Cam back to his room so I can get him dressed. He’s not wearing a diaper and even though there is a towel between us, I don’t want to be the recipient of anything that comes out of him. “At least we’re still having dinner tomorrow.”

  Larry follows me back. “So you still need me to babysit?”

  I glance up and she’s biting the corner of her bottom lip and there’s concern in her eyes. Larry’s not going to cancel is she? I could cook tomorrow, like I planned tonight, but I really want to take Deirdre somewhere, without a child along. “If you still can.”

  “Sure,” Larry assures me. “But, let me know if she cancels again.”

  I narrow my eyes on Larry. “What makes you think she’ll cancel?” Does she know something I don’t, like she’s picking up on a girl vibe that only females get?

  “Well, she did tonight. Though you did go to a movie last night, but she kind of bolted the first chance she got yesterday afternoon.”

  I get where she’s going with this, and Larry is trying to be gentle in telling me not to get my hopes up, but I can’t help it. Should I listen to her and realize that Deirdre may not want to go out with me as much as I want to go out with her? Was last night a pity date because she couldn’t come up with an excuse not to go? Alexia did kind of force her to ride home with me and she had seemed surprised to see me at the gallery. Shit!

  “Well, we’ll see what happens. Plan on her going. If not, you’ll get to go home early.”

  “I’m sure it will work out. But, a lot of girls do avoid guys with kids.” She bites her bottom lip again and then looks up at me. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and then be hurt.”

  At least I have Larry’s sympathy. Cam’s, not so much, since he’s grinning up at me and kicking his legs.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that I mind.” I grab clothes for Cam and carry him out to the living room. “Go ahead and go. I’m not going to open the shop tonight. I’ll just kick back and watch some television.”

  Larry pauses by the front door. “You gonna be okay? I hate to leave you if you’re going to be all depressed and stuff.”

  Like a sixteen-year-old kid could make things any better. At least she has a good heart. “I’ll be fine. Go hang out with your friends.”

  After she leaves, I pick Cam up and wander into the kitchen. “Well, Little Dude, looks like it’s just me and you tonight.”

  He kicks his legs with excitement.

  “Love ya, guy, but I was really hoping for a little more grown up company than you or the kid.” I sigh and open the fridge. Half of my burger is still in there from yesterday. Looks like that is dinner tonight.

  It was a prank is the text I get from Deirdre three hours later. I’d just put Cam to bed, grab my phone, walk out to the living room, and text back. Call me if you can.

  The phone rings a moment later and I answer.

  “What was a prank?”

  “The whole text!” I can hear the anger in her voice. “Kian and I drove up here thinking we’d need to deal with all kinds of damage, but nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?” Was she making excuses or was she really pranked? Ever since talking to Larry, I’m wondering if Deirdre really wants to go out with me and has been making excuses. Is she now going to just stay at Vassar and I won’t see her again?

  “My apartment is fine. I talked to the supervisor, who has no clue who sent the text and why.”

  I scratch my head. “Who would do something like that?”

  “I have no idea, but I am pissed.”

  “Don’t blame you,” I answer.

  “My brother’s not to happy either, but we’re headed back now.”

  At least she is coming back to town.

  “I am so sorry about dinner tonight. Had I know this was a bad joke, I would have never come back to school.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You had to check it out.” Was she really sorry about dinner?

  I need to quit doubting her. She didn’t need to call and tell me it was a prank or a bad joke.

  “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow to make up for it.”

  My heart lifts. So, she isn’t just trying to blow me off. “No. I’m taking you. That’s already decided.”

  “But I feel so bad.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” I assure her. “Someone with a bad sense of humor, not you.”

  “Still…”

  “Don’t feel bad. We’ll just have fun tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she says, kind of sad. “I’ll see you then.”

  I may not have liked that our plans were canceled tonight, but I feel tons better knowing she still wants to go out. At least Larry got that wrong. But, why would anyone play such a prank or joke on her? It’s probably one of the shittiest things I’ve heard of anyone doing before. Hopefully Deirdre can figure it out, if she even tries. I’d sure want to know what asshole sent the text it if happened to me.

  Eight

  W
hy am I so nervous?

  Because it’s dinner with Jesse. Damn, I can’t help grinning and I’m all giddy inside. This is so not like me, but I love how it feels.

  It still shocks me that he has a kid and honestly, I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Still, it isn’t like Jesse and I can actually have a relationship anyway. He’s here and I’m at Vassar, with no time for a social life. My main plan for coming back was to hopefully get to know him better, see if there was something there, and then look forward to the summer, when I’ll be around a hell of a lot more. So far, it’s gone better than expected. Well, except for yesterday when some asshole decided to play a prank on me. I’m still pissed about that, but I’m not going to let it ruin my date with Jesse tonight, or any future dates, if there are any.

  But am I ready to date a guy with a child?

  “Stop jumping ahead of yourself.” It’s not like we’re dating, or even in a relationship.

  I look in the mirror one last time, pleased with how my hair and makeup look, and head down the stairs. I just reach the living room when the doorbell rings. Kian, my oldest brother, answers it before I have a chance to.

  “Come in, Jesse.”

  Damn he’s hot in those faded jeans and long sleeved t-shirt. I’m glad I decided to go casual too. Though, I am wearing a skirt and cute top.

  “Where’re you two headed?” Kian asks, following Jesse into the living room.

  I roll my eyes. The one thing I don’t miss about being at home is having an overprotective brother. Thank goodness it’s only Kian. If all five of them were here, they’d send Jesse running for the hills.

  “Sullivan’s.” Jesse looks at me. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather to go.”

  “Sullivan’s is fine.” It’s the first place we went together and I love that pub. I was practically raised there and it always felt like home.

  “Hey, Jesse,” Alexia says as she comes from the kitchen.

  “All finished up for break?” Jesse asks.

  “Yeah.” She chuckles. “I could do with the time away from Baxter.”

  “We all could.”

  From what I understand, Baxter only accepts troubled teens with incredible talents. My brother Kian attended, not that I’ve ever understood how he got in. He’s about the least talented person I know.

  “I’ve got more paintings from the kids, if there’s room in the gallery,” Alexia says, stopping beside Kian.

  “Sure is.” Jesse nods with a slight smile. “Sold a few more this week, and a couple pots.”

  “The paintings are from the students?” I thought all of that work was Jesse’s.

  “And some sculptures,” he answers proudly.

  It’s great that he’s letting the kids sell their stuff in his gallery. That’s really cool.

  “What they make goes into a trust for their futures,” Jesse explains.

  “If you’re going to be around Saturday, we’ll drop them off,” Alexia offers.

  “Sure, come by around eleven.” He turns to me. “Shall we?”

  We step outside but I don’t see a car.

  “I hope you don’t mind walking. I thought it was a waste to drive four blocks.”

  “Not at all. It’s a beautiful night.”

  We turn the corner and I glance up. Larry’s standing in the window, holding Cam and glaring down at me. The hair stands up on the back of my neck again. I don’t like that girl and can’t explain why.

  I guess it doesn’t matter. If she’s good with Cam, that’s what’s important.

  All the tables are full when we step inside and Jesse escorts me to two empty stools at the bar. “Mind if we sit here until a table opens up?”

  I don’t care if we sit here the entire time. But, as this does qualify as a date, sitting at the bar isn’t exactly intimate.

  I barely sit when a shot glass is slammed down in front of me and Seamus, the owner, is pouring Tullamore Dew into it. My eyes meet his twinkling blue ones.

  “Ya promised ta celebrate yar twenty-first here.”

  “I would have if I hadn’t had three exams the next day.”

  “Are ya sure dat’s it? Ya weren’t partying at school?”

  “Do you think I’d want to celebrate my twenty-first anywhere else?” I’d been looking forward to having my first official adult drink at Sullivan’s. Unfortunately, that day fell on a Tuesday with exams on Wednesday. I was a little pissed that day. I wanted to be here.

  “Well, it’s better late dan never.” He pours some into his own shot glass and raises a toast. We clink the glass and toss back the shot.

  I had no idea Deirdre had a birthday since Thanksgiving. Not that a few months are that big of a deal as far as her actual age goes, but I’m more comfortable now that I know she’s legal age, even if she was already an adult. Deirdre doesn’t seem so much younger all of a sudden.

  She leans in close to Seamus. “I’ll let you in on a secret.”

  “Ya?”

  “This is my very first drink as an adult. I saved it for here.”

  “It better be yar first drink ever.” He’s wagging a finger at her.

  Deirdre just sits back and grins, not confirming or denying.

  I have to laugh. “Pour her another, and one for me and you,” I tell Seamus. “This is a celebration.”

  He grins and puts another shot glass on the bar. “I knew I liked ya.”

  We toss them back. The whiskey’s smooth, and my favorite. It’s just too expensive for my wallet. But tonight is an exception.

  I turn to Deirdre. “Another?”

  “Oh, no.” She’s waving her hand away. “I need to eat something first.”

  “After, then.”

  “Yes. After.” She laughs.

  A couple is getting up from the table in front of the windows and Seamus nods. “Get it while ya can.”

  I stand and wait for Deirdre then escort her over. This is perfect. We can look out at the square and we’re further away from the larger tables with families.

  The waitress comes and takes our orders. Seamus has the best burgers in probably the State of New York, but I just had one so I order a tenderloin instead. She gets a burger and we order a basket of fresh cut fries to share. Deirdre opts for a Coke and I do the same. We just had shots on an empty stomach and I don’t want to get drunk any more than she does.

  “So, what does one do with a degree in cognitive science?” She told me her area of study last November and I looked it up when I got home. All I know is that it’s a science involving humans, animals, computers and probably other things. I’m just not sure what kind of job it leads to.

  “All kinds of things, actually.”

  “Really?” I kind of find that hard to believe.

  “Seriously.” She laughs. “Hotel management, archeologist, psychologist, lawyer, sales manager, creative director or urban developer. There’s a whole list of things I can do or continue to study.” She holds up her phone. “I can google it for you.”

  She’s grinning and I laugh. “Okay, so, what does Deirdre O’Brien plan to do with her degree?”

  “That is more difficult to answer.”

  “No set dream job yet?”

  The waitress returns and puts the Cokes on the table, and Deirdre takes a sip.

  “I’m torn between psychology, being a counselor, and becoming an advocate for children, either in the court system or as a social worker.”

  I’m impressed. “Those are all great career choices.”

  “I just need to decide on a focus before the end of May.” She makes a face as if she’s not looking forward to having to make that decision.

  I can relate to that. “I hated having to decide on what I needed to do.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “I figure you always knew it would be art.”

  “I did,” I laugh. “But, I had to get a degree that would also feed me in case sculpting failed.”

  She nods. “I get that.”

  The waitress returns and puts t
he food on the table in front of us.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  I look over at Deirdre and lift an eyebrow. She shakes her head.

  “We’re good,” I tell her.

  “So, what degree did you pick to feed you?” She bites into the burger and chews, waiting for my answer.

  “I double majored in education and psychology.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Not art?”

  “It’s a minor, but all I really cared about was working with metals. I added ceramics and sculpting for fun, but I didn’t take any of the other art classes.”

  “Yet, you’re an art teacher at Baxter.”

  “Alexia teaches most everything. I’m just the clay guy.”

  “It probably helped that you had a psychology degree when you applied there.”

  I’m sure the combination of education, art and psychology is exactly what got me the job. “They have some of the most talented kids I’ve ever seen. I’d love to introduce metals and see what they can do, but welding, flames and sharp objects aren’t exactly the safest materials to work with.” I shove my sleeves up and show her my various scars on my hands and forearms from being cut and burned on occasion. I don’t mind them at all and could probably list which art piece belongs to which scar, but the kids at Baxter already have enough scars, inside and out, and don’t need anymore.

  “Or, it’s better those kids aren’t working with them,” she adds.

  I just nod. I don’t discuss details of Baxter, none of us associated with the school do, but if she’s lived here all of her life, or at least most of it, and her brother and his girlfriend are connected with the school. Deirdre probably already has an idea of the type of students that are at Baxter.

  “My students wouldn’t be a problem though. They are all about art. It’s their happy place.” I grin. At least that’s how it feels when they’re in the classroom creating. And, while there is some competition, it’s all friendly. Every one of those kids support each other, and offer honest critiques or suggestions if something isn’t turning out like planned.

  “Wednesday was the first time I’d been to Baxter. I didn’t even know the gallery was open to the public.”