Free The Girl On The Half Shell by Susan Ward Page B

statement that’s left him looking very exposed, very vulnerable.
    “Real people? As opposed to…?” I ask.
    “Everyone else in my life. I’d been clean eight years, but a year ago I had what they benignly call in Rehab a set-back.”
    I’m intrigued by his honesty, in spite of my early irritation with him. “Eight years is a long time. Why did you relapse?”
    He smiles wryly. “There are no whys. Only using and not using. Why is not allowed in the Rehab halfway house of Jack’s. Only the why nots.”
    Yes, that sounded like Jack. “For what’s it worth I would never have guessed heroin.”
    “Really? Why?” His voice is low and he’s gazing at me intently.
    “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to fit you. You seem more elegant than that.”
    He laughs. “Elegant? That’s a first for me.”
    “You’re a tough guy to read, Alan. But you are elegant. It’s all mixed up in that strange sort of British rocker, messy jeans, t-shirt, shoeless, grunge sort of thing you’ve got going on. But definitely, somewhere in there, elegant.”
    He grimaces. “If that’s how you see me then I have an image crisis to contend with and I’m spending too much time with Jack. I’m definitely not going for a shoeless grunge sort of thing. Your dad doesn’t let people wear shoes in the house. Remember?”
    He looks down at my feet and I realized I am still wearing my UGGs with Neil’s silly half dollar sticking out of the fold. “Oh, I forgot our coastal customs. See what being in prison can do? Do you want to go for a walk or not?”
    I don’t know why I change my mind about going to my room, but I just do. Not waiting for his answer, I leave the studio quickly. I don’t look to see if he follows. I bypass the patio off the kitchen and go down a long hall at the other end of the house to another patio exit. The yard is dark and woodsy here. I slow down, and then stop on the side of the house near the edge. I look back over my shoulder to find Alan standing patiently behind me.
    I put a finger over my lips, and shush him. Carefully, I peek around the corner of the house.
    “Why all the subterfuge?” Alan asks, whispering. “Will you get in trouble for taking off to the beach with me?”
    My fingers do a fluttering motion for him to lower his voice.
    “No. Of course, not. Jack approves of everything. Well, everything but booze, drugs, Republicans and the Government.” I point to a set of wooden stairs at the far end of the property that disappear over the cliff. “We have to make it there without them seeing you. If Jack sees you, he’ll  keep you talking for hours. And I don’t like to walk alone on the beach at night. Stupid, but it scares me.”
    “It should scare you and you shouldn’t do it alone. Not even here. You’re a very beautiful girl.”
    The compliment this time irritates me because I know that I’m not beautiful. He says it very blandly in that be nice to Jack’s daughter sort of way that I really hate.
    “Do you always compliment girls that way? Sort of randomly, out of thin air? And all very matter-of-fact?”
    “No, not usually. I never compliment anyone. I’m self-absorbed. Remember?”
    I make a face, grab his hand and tug him along with me at a running pace to the stairs. I am laughing by the time it’s over and I lean against the rail, hardly able to talk through my laughter. I look up to find him staring at me. He’s annoyed by my laughter. Why should he care what I think? His eyes burn into me as if trying to figure out what’s up, and I’m nearly compelled to confess that I know perfectly well who he is and I’ve just been behaving crazy and lame all day.
    “I’m going to check tomorrow, but I have to know today. Are you really, really famous?” I ask.
    Now he’s suspicious. “Why?”
    “Because us sneaking from the house to the beach was really, really lame. We didn’t have to do any of that. I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”
    Those beautiful black eyes shift