The truth hits me now, why I feel nothing at her news. She may be dying now, but she’s been dead to me for three years.
Chapter Eight
When I walk across campus at three forty-five, I see Lexi standing next to the eight-foot-tall statue of President Andrew Jackson. Other than country music, he’s Tennessee’s claim to fame. Southern has several images of him scattered across the campus.
Lexi wears a classic gray tweed skirt and jacket, an ivory blouse underneath, and a pair of three-inch-heeled black pumps. Her blonde hair is pulled into a French twist. I considered going casual so I’m now thankful I went with a business look as well: a silk blouse with a wool skirt and my suede boots. I’m also thankful I added a cardigan because there’s a nip in the air. Fall has finally arrived, bringing rain clouds to the west with it.
She casts a wary gaze into the parking lot then looks back toward the campus. A smile spreads across her face. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” Now that I’m closer, I can see her suit is made from high quality wool and has a tailored fit. Her bag is soft leather, and her shoes obviously didn’t come from Payless.
Lexi’s attire reeks of money, but her clothes are extremely conservative for an eighteen-year-old. “I love your suit. Is it Chanel?”
She grins, but it falters a bit. “Yeah, I suppose you would notice since you’re a fashion major.”
I tilt my head and study the cut. “It doesn’t look vintage so it had to cost a fortune. Where did you find it?” Most college students could never afford a suit like hers.
Her eyes shift to an approaching car. “A friend gave it to me last year. At my old college.”
She’s acting strange, but I don’t want to pry. Perhaps she’s embarrassed that she’s wearing hand-me-downs. I hate admitting my clothes are mostly thrift store finds, even if I usually repurpose them.
An older sedan pulls up to the curb and Lexi walks toward it. “There’s our ride.”
I follow her, confused, as she opens the back door and stands next to it. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
I start to slide into the backseat when I see who’s sitting in the driver seat.
Reed.
In my shock, I gasp and start to get out of the car, but Lexi is climbing in, pushing me back inside and shutting the door.
“Okay, Reed. Let’s go.”
Reed grips the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “Lexi.” Her name is a rumble.
“Reed, we’re going to be late and you know how much you like to be prompt.”
His jaw tightens as the car pulls away from the curb toward the parking lot exit.
I finally come to my senses. “What the—”
Lexi turns to me, beaming. “Caroline, tell me about your project.”
I have no idea why she’s so happy. She knows how rude her brother is during our meetings, but does she have any idea her brother humiliated me a week ago? Lexi seems like a sweet girl, so I suspect not. She’s probably one of those girls who has a hard time believing anyone, especially her brother, can do something terrible. I have two choices: One I can throw a huge fit and insist Reed stop the car; or two, I can pretend his presence doesn’t bother me at all. I decide to go with option two.
Reed’s behavior in the meeting and at the bar was to get a reaction from me, and I fell right into his trap. I’m not making that mistake again. Ignoring him, or worse yet, being nice to him will drive him crazy. I can’t quite bring myself to be nice, so I choose the second option.
But the question about my project sends anxiety skating down my back. I’ve made no progress.
At all. I still haven’t come up with a commonality to tie all my pieces together, or even tie into the theme of Everyday Living. Not that I have any pieces to tie together. I have nothing. “It’s still in the planning stage.”
“Sounds like you’re stalling,” Reed mumbles.
Lexi’s eyes narrow. “Who are your favorite designers?”
I’m not sure if she’s asking to intervene or if she’s truly interested, but I’m eager to avoid a confrontation with Reed. My ire has been stoked, my irritation simmering to a low boil. “I like classic designers: Caroline Herrera, Chanel of course.”
“How original,” Reed mutters just loud enough for me to hear.
Ignore him.
“But I love the delicateness of Alberta Ferretti’s designs and Matthew Williamson’s use of color.”
Lexi’s eyes widen. “I’m surprised. Matthew Williamson has more of an edge.”
I stare at her for a moment. “You know about designers?”
She blinks, then gives me a sly smile. “What can I say? I like Vogue.”
“For the pretty pictures.” Reed drones.
“Why did he come?” I snap.
Now Lexi looks worried. “He’s our ride.”
“I have a car in perfect working condition.” But that’s not entirely true. The car is twelve years old and barely on life support. I’m replacing a quart of oil every other day and the brakes are sketchy.
I pray it lasts until I graduate and get a job. If I get a job. All the more reason to keep my mouth shut and ignore Reed’s taunts.
Lexi shoots an annoyed glance to the front, but Reed stares straight ahead and doesn’t notice.
Why in the hell is he here? I realize the only time I’ve seen Lexi without her brother is last night in the coffee shop. I’ve heard of close families, but this borders on creepy. Why would she want to spend so much time with him when he’s a total ass?