Social Lives by Wendy Walker Read Free Book Online Page A

we?”
    â€œThat’s the damned truth of it. I just never thought my little Caitie would be vulnerable. And now her mother is making it into a national crisis. Global warming, the shitty economy, and hallway blow jobs. Somehow I don’t think that’s exactly what Caitie needs right now, to be the poster child for teenagers gone wild.”
    Even in the midst of his deepest worries, Barlow managed to find humor. It was his way, his defense against the pain that was floating through his body, looking for a place to anchor.
    â€œI don’t know. I doubt she’ll even notice it. It’s really for
them,
isn’t it?” Jacks said, drawing her arm across the room.
    As Barlow peered out into the crowd, Jacks studied his face. They should be nothing to him now. He no longer needed them, having made his fortune, and his contempt for the very world he still envied in spite of his every effort to stop was now crawling beneath his skin.
    â€œDoes it help to know that most of the women here performed similar favors before leaving high school?”
    Barlow laughed. “And look how well they turned out.”
    â€œOh, come now. These are some of the finest ladies in Wilshire.”
    â€œAnd not exactly the life plan I had in mind for my daughters.”
    Jacks looked at him wryly. “And yet, here you are.”
    â€œHere
we
are.” He turned then, to meet her eyes. The irony had never occurred to him, but it struck him now, hard and cold. He drained the glass of scotch, then did what he always did when too many adult thoughts entered his brain. “So getting back to hallway blow jobs . . .”
    Jacks laughed out loud and shook her head, though she was far from being embarrassed. “Oh, no. Not a chance. You’ll just have to use your imagination.”
    Barlow grinned flirtatiously, lowering his eyes then raising them again to meet hers. It was the look that came as close as any ever did to crossing the invisible line, and it was now, at the line, that one of them always stepped away in search of a spouse. Or another drink.
    â€œI think I’ll need more scotch to do that.”
    â€œActually, it looks like we need to sit for dinner.”
    Barlow slid his arm around her waist as she moved in front of him. “After you, Mrs. Halstead.”
    Their table was in the front of the room, of course, the unofficial head table that was always reserved for the school’s chairwoman at these events. And what a lovely table it was, with white linens, bright colorful peonies and roses in a round vase, and little menus shaped like surfboards. Cheery, cute. Perfect.
    Jacks found Rosalyn standing by her chair, engaged in conversation with the school director.
    â€œLovely party,” she said casually.
    Oblivious of, or perhaps merely indifferent to, her husband, who had dashed off to the bar, Rosalyn reached out and kissed Jacks on the cheek. “Hello, there. Where have you been hiding?”
    Jacks smiled. “Nowhere. What a fabulous setup!”
    The director smiled. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy it. And don’t forget to bid—the tables close at ten.”
    Rosalyn and Jacks nodded in agreement. “Of course!”
    â€œWell, I’d better mingle. Nice to see you both.”
    The two women smiled as they watched the director move on to the next potential deep pocket. Then they turned to face each other.
    â€œSo,” Jacks said, her expression one of genuine concern.
    Rosalyn continued to smile, though Jacks detected the traces of weariness she knew must be lurking inside the woman. This just wasn’t in Rosalyn, this contrite, apologetic tour de force. It was effective, to be sure. And necessary in Rosalyn’s mind. But there was no doubt Wilshire’s reigning matriarch was growing tired of it in a hurry.
    â€œSo,” Rosalyn replied.
    Jacks smiled reassuringly. “This won’t be just about Caitlin much longer.”
    Rosalyn