Free Envy - 2 by Robin Wasserman Page A

anytime soon.
    So she needed a place where no one— no one —would recognize her, where no one she knew would ever deign to set foot. Hence: the Cactus Cantina. A greasy Tex-Mex bar with Cheez Whiz nachos and double-shot margaritas, the Cactus was good for inducing a heart attack or drinking yourself into oblivion, but little else.
    Harper was already seated (albeit gingerly—she had no interest in letting any part of her body touch the mysterious sticky patches that dotted the booth) when Kaia arrived. So she got a good look at the cover girl’s face when she walked in the door. It wasn’t pretty. Or, rather—this being Kaia—it was spectacularly pretty. But it was prettiness scrunched up into a grimace of horror and reticence, her whole body telegraphing a single message: Dear God, don’t make me go in there. Please.
    She stood in the door for a moment, half in, half out, and a shaft of light sliced into the darkness, sending up a groan of discomfort from the bowels of the bar.
    “Yer in or yer out, senorita,” the bartender with the fake Zapata mustache cal ed to Kaia. She flinched at the scraping sound of his voice. “Make up your mind, por favor ” Harper waited and watched. It was the first test of Kaia’s commitment to the cause—and, to her credit, she passed.
    “Was this real y necessary?” she asked Harper, sitting down across from her.
    “What?” Harper tried her best to look comfortable, though not too comfortable, as if this world were foreign but unintimidating—and especial y as if she weren’t planning to take a shower the moment she got out of there to wash the stench out of her hair. The goal had been to throw Kaia off balance, to make sure she was out of her element—a plan which, by al appearances, had worked like a charm. Harper would just have to deal, and keep her own squirming and scowling to a minimum.
    “This place ” Kaia said, waving her arms in elaboration, as if to encompass the cardboard lizards and cacti papering the wal s, the tinny salsa soundtrack, and the seedy denizens al in one sweep. “Or is this just your thing?”
    Harper shrugged, affecting unconcern. “You’re the one who thinks Kane and I have this dirty little plan,” she pointed out. “I would think you’d understand the need to be a little discreet.”
    “Whatever.” Kaia grabbed a napkin and gingerly flicked away the mysteriously colored crumbs littering her side of the table. “I take it we’re getting right down to business?”
    “I’m done with smal talk if you are.”
    “Good.” She leaned forward, and Harper was once again taken by her perfect form and poise, even in a place like this. And that rust-colored asymmetrical shirt? It was unmistakably a Betsey Johnson original. Harper closed her eyes for a moment and, with a sharp pang of envy, briefly considered what it would be like to have Kaia’s life—but she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
    “Here’s how I see it,” Kaia continued. “You want Adam. Kane—for whatever reason—wants Beth. You teamed up to split them up, and you’re ready and waiting for them to fal , heartbroken and sobbing, into your arms. How am I doing so far?”
    Harper was disgusted with herself. Some secret plan. What a joke. And it sounded even more pathetic coming out of Kaia’s mouth. But she played it off. She had to.
    “So far you haven’t told me anything I don’t know,” she complained.
    “I’l take that to mean, ‘Why, yes, Kaia, that’s the situation exactly. Please enlighten me as to how to make my dreams come true.’”
    “I’m listening.”
    “So you’ve got Beth tutoring Kane—a nice move, incidental y, but Adam’s too much of a wuss to break up with her just because he’s jealous. He’d never trust his own instincts on that one—and princess Beth isn’t going to fal on Kane unless you push her.”
    “Again, waiting for the newsflash,” Harper drawled, inwardly bristling at the way Kaia casual y spoke of Adam’s flaws