Marcus was silent. He stood still, one hand resting on the black telephone on his night table. Had he called someone while her back was turned? Clara hadn’t heard him say anything. His eyes narrowed, and Clara could tell right away that she’d said precisely the wrong thing.
“Friendship?” He scoffed. “You and I were never friends, Clara, and we sure as hell aren’t now. I loved you,” he said in a quieter voice. “I wanted to be with you, and all you wanted to do was party and lie to me.”
Clara swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to, it was for a job.”
“A job you never told me about! For no good reason! Unless you didn’t want me to know about the job because you didn’t want me to know about your editor.”
“Nothing was going on between me and Parker then, and nothing is going on now.” At least she could say that honestly. Semihonestly, anyway.
“I don’t believe anything you say anymore. You lied to me at first, back in Chicago, but I understood that. You were ashamed of your past. When we got here, though, I realized that wasn’t it—it was just you. You got so caught up in manipulation and double talk as a flapper that now you don’t know how to be honest with anyone.”
It was what Clara had always feared most. She’d watched enough girls lie their way into speakeasies, into relationships, into money, until they lied even when they didn’t need to. And now here was Marcus, the boy who’d convinced her she was different from all those girls, telling her she was just like them.
“How was I supposed to keep loving you if I couldn’t believe a word out of your mouth? Only a complete idiot would,” he said grimly. “Do you really not understand what you did wrong?”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, Clara said to herself over and over. It had kind of become a personal mantra these past few weeks.
Marcus held her eyes for a few moments, waiting for the apology Clara couldn’t give him. If she told him how sorry she was, it would tumble into a confession of love that she wouldn’t be able to take back.
Eventually Marcus exhaled heavily and looked away. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ve found someone who wants to be with me, and I’m not going to let you screw it up. Do yourself a favor and leave. Now.”
“But I—” Clara began, when a sharp knock on the door interrupted her.
“Oh, too late,” Marcus said. He flung open the door to reveal two men in black uniforms with silver badges pinned to their chests.
Clara turned to glare at Marcus. He’d called security on her? Really?
“This drunk woman burst into my room. I’ve never seen her before in my life.” He looked at Clara with a hint of a smile. It was both sad and cruel at the same time. “Please take her away.”
LORRAINE
And Becky had said Lorraine’s opera glasses would never come in handy.
It was early evening and the streetlamps that dotted Columbia’s campus had just flickered on. The campus was fairly deserted this time of day—just a few students strolled down the cobbled path to the domed library on Lorraine’s left. Wind brushed through the trees and made Lorraine wish she’d brought a sweater or jacket. Why couldn’t summer do everyone a favor and last all year long?
From her bench on the lawn, Lorraine could nearly see through Marcus’s window into his dorm room. She couldn’t make out who Marcus was talking to, only that it was a girl who was not his fiancée. Lorraine pressed the glasses closer to her face and leaned forward. “What are you up to, Marcus?” she whispered.
Lorraine had been following Marcus since she’d returned from Long Island two days earlier. Before, she’d only hung around outside Marcus’s classes when she had a spare moment—but now tailing him had become her full-time job.
She’d been studying how much time Marcus spent with Anastasia/Deirdre, and what times of day she’d be most likely to catch the lying harlot alone. Soon Lorraine would tell Anastasia that she knew about her dirty past and that she’d better come clean to Marcus. Or else Lorraine would … do something. She hadn’t really worked that part out yet.
Melvin had pointed out that Lorraine’s “research” was remarkably similar to what she had been doing before she’d even known Marcus was engaged. But while that might have seemed to be the case to an oil can