Diva (The Flappers) - By Jillian Larkin Page 0,44

like Melvin, her motivations had changed. Lorraine wasn’t just a girl with a crush now: She was a woman on a rescue mission.

She shivered and set her glasses on the bench so she could rub her hands over her goose-pimpled arms. A sleeveless dress, while fashionable, was not the best attire for spying. Lorraine raised the opera glasses back up to her eyes and saw two security guards in black uniforms in Marcus’s doorway. Where had they come from?

The guards left nearly as soon as they’d arrived, the woman Marcus had been talking to with them. Seriously, what was going on up there? Lorraine slipped her opera glasses into her purse, rose from the bench, and took a few hesitant steps across the lawn toward Hartley Hall.

As her heels crunched over the fallen leaves, Lorraine speculated as to who the woman might be. Was Marcus having some kind of affair with a lady criminal?

When Lorraine was halfway across the lawn, the security guards emerged from the dorm with the woman between them. Lorraine stepped closer, squinted, and gasped.

Clara Knowles? What had she been doing in Marcus’s room?

Back at Forrest Hamilton’s party, Clara hadn’t wanted anything to do with Marcus. But clearly something had changed.

And now Clara was in trouble.

The security guards began to lead her across the South Lawn, and without another thought, Lorraine raced toward them. Ugh, her brocade T-strap heels were gorgeous, but they were horrid for running. She felt tempted to chuck them off—this damp grass had probably already ruined them anyway.

She nearly ran into a fellow lugging a huge stack of textbooks when she stopped short near Clara and the security guards. “W-watch where you’re going, y-y-you lousy dew-dropper!” Lorraine yelled at the boy, out of breath. She needed to stop skipping her physical education class so often, even if it was at eight in the morning.

The boy caught his teetering books before any fell, scowled at her, and stalked off. How rude!

“Not another one,” the overweight, middle-aged security guard complained. “What are you doing wandering around the campus after dark?” He, the other guard, and Clara all stared at her.

Lorraine froze. “I … Opera!” She fumbled around in her purse and withdrew her glasses. They’d been so useful this evening! “I’m coming from the opera, see?”

The guard frowned at Lorraine. “Fine. Now, girlie, get back to your own campus and out of our way.”

“Do you want me to walk her back?” the other guard asked with a hopeful glint in his muddy-brown eyes. He had floppy brown hair and was barely older than Lorraine and Clara.

“No, let’s just keep moving,” the first one replied.

The two men started to walk around Lorraine, but she caught the younger one’s shoulder. “No, wait, she’s my friend!” She rushed forward so she was standing in front of Clara and smiled wide at her. “Where did you get off to, Clarabelle?” She flung her arms around Clara without waiting for an answer. It was a pretty awkward embrace since the guards were still holding both of Clara’s arms. Not that Clara would’ve hugged her back anyway. “I was so worried!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Clara asked through gritted teeth.

“Rescuing you,” Lorraine whispered back. “Just shut your trap!”

“Step aside, ma’am,” the older security guard ordered, and continued walking.

Lorraine fell into step beside the younger guard, which caused the older one to harrumph and go faster. Lorraine practically ran to keep up with them, and the younger guard smiled at her.

“What’s your problem with Clara? We’re dear friends. I can vouch for her completely. I go to school at Barnard, that college just across the street—”

“We’re well acquainted with Barnard, thanks,” the young guy said. His name tag said Robert while the middle-aged guy’s said Walter. “But one of our students said this girl was making a scene in his dormitory. He also seemed to think she’d been drinking. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

They pushed past Lorraine. “Wait!” she said, urging her legs to keep moving. She approached them on the other side this time and tried to grab Walter’s arm.

“Hands off, girlie!” He shook her off as they stepped from the lawn to a paved walkway, and Lorraine almost fell. The two men and Clara walked quickly to a redbrick building and climbed the stairs to its entrance.

“But you don’t understand!” Lorraine said, stumbling up the stairs behind them. “My Clara? Drinking? I’ve never heard of something so ridiculous. Why, I’ve never seen Clara drink anything, ever. Not even a