Spiked (Blocked Book 3) Page 5

I shrugged. “He’s my dad’s favorite. When he agreed to give us a private performance, my dad lost his shit.”

  Itch said, “Don’t know which I’d want to see more—Neil Diamond sing or your dad lose his shit. Seems like el presidente is so cool under pressure.”

  I remembered Dad yelling when he’d caught me drinking beer last year. “He has his moments.”

  Itch sniffed. “What’s that smell?”

  “Probably you,” Fitch answered. “It’s called a shower. Use it.”

  “Communal showers aren’t my thang. My petition still has a chance.”

  “They’re not gonna let freshmen live off campus, dude.” Fitch shook his head. “Give it up. You don’t shower by tonight, and I’m throwing your ass in there.”

  “Empty threats.” Itch looked down his nose at him. “You’re, like, four feet tall.”

  “Hey, I’m five-five.”

  “Not something to celebrate, Leprechaun.”

  Fitch muttered, “Freakishly tall Japanese person.”

  Itch looked at me. “None of this dorm crap for you. You get to live in luxury, right?”

  I shrugged. Living in the dorm would actually be fun if I could live near these guys. Or maybe near Jessica. I wondered what her first art classes were like.

  Itch wrinkled his nose. “That smell’s driving me crazy. It’s, like, coconut or something.”

  I tensed as he leaned toward me, and Johnny must have sensed my unease because he straightened in his chair.

  “It’s you,” Itch said. “What, you wearing girly lotion or perfume?”

  Shit. “This is your fault,” I hissed at Johnny.

  He recoiled. “What’d I do?”

  “You didn’t let me buy shampoo. I had to use Lucia’s.”

  Johnny tried to keep a straight face. “It’s coconut-scented, huh?”

  “Oh, baby,” Itch said. “That coconut shampoo sure smells sexy.”

  Fitch laughed.

  Traitors. “We’re stopping at the store to buy guy shampoo.”

  “Not sure that’s on today’s itinerary,” Johnny said.

  “Do it,” Itch ordered. “I’m sporting a woody from that smell, and that’s not cool coming from another guy.”

  The professor spoke up. “Welcome to Music Two-Two-Two-One, Music Theory.”

  I turned to face him, careful not to move my head and waft out more coconut fumes.

  “I’m Dr. Linton, and I’ve taught at Highbanks for twenty-three years.”

  He must have been older than my father, though his dark blond hair hadn’t grayed yet.

  “Meeting bright-eyed music majors is always an exciting time for me. You’re full of optimism, unlike the jaded seniors I teach in my applied class.” He grinned. “This semester we’ll embark on a journey of melody, rhythm, timing, and harmony—the cornerstones of life itself, wouldn’t you say?”

  He walked to the podium to gather some papers. “Today we’ll review the syllabus, so you know what to expect. I see some of you have your laptops up, maybe open to the syllabus on CougarNet?” He hoisted the papers above his head. “But I have print copies for you. Go ahead and power down those computers.”

  Itch groused as he turned off his laptop.

  “I find my students pay much better attention without screens in their faces.” Dr. Linton distributed the printed syllabi. “Did you know students retain lecture material better when they write the notes instead of type them?”

  Yeah, I do. Alejandro had learned that during his neurology rotation. He’d shared all kinds of study tips. Lucky me.

  When the class ended thirty minutes later, it was time to head to math. On the way out, Itch clasped my arm.

  “I want to see that Neil Diamond guitar. Weston’s coming up this weekend to rehearse. Can you stop by?”

  Ripples of happiness flowed over me. “Sure.”

  “Awesome. What’re your digits, dude?”

  I turned to Johnny, who frowned. For security purposes, very few people had my cell phone number.

  “How ’bout you give me your number, and we’ll get a hold of you,” Johnny said.

  When Itch hesitated, I wondered if he’d put a kibosh on the whole thing. But then he rattled off his number. Maybe the start of my first Highbanks friendship?

  After two more classes, my cat and I sprawled on my bed. Lucia wasn’t kidding about naps being the best part of college. When there was a knock on my door, I groaned.

  Karen didn’t wait for me to answer, but marched in and prepared a glucose test strip. I was too tired to fight her. Escuincle, on the other hand, growled.

  “Good cat,” I said, as she pricked my finger.

  A moment later, she shook her head at the result. “Sixty-eight.”

  “That’s not that low.”

  “Eat something before you take a nap.” A protein bar materialized in her hand.

  My eyelids weighed a ton. “Too tired.”

  “You’re tired because you haven’t eaten. We need a better plan if you’re going to have three classes in a row multiple times a week.”

  To get her off my back, I accepted the bar and took a bite. Gross.

  “Come to the kitchen when you wake up. I’ll make lunch.”

  I closed my eyes once she’d left. Bossy much? It hadn’t surprised me when I heard she’d been in the Navy before the Secret Service. Squinky’s purrs lulled me as I sank deeper into the mattress…

  The shrill beep of the smoke alarm woke me, and I bolted out of bed. Was the greenhouse on fire? But where were my agents? I jogged to the kitchen, where Karen waved her hand over a pan on the stove, which only seemed to amplify the smoky haze. “Take out the damn battery!” she hollered into the TV room.

  “I am!” Johnny stood on a chair as he fiddled with the smoke alarm.

  Finally, the piercing blast stopped. Karen glanced at me. “Sorry.” She shoved the pan to the back burner. “I was trying to make quesadillas.”

  “Oh.” I coughed. “I thought there was a fire.”

  “Should’ve known it was Karen cooking again.” Johnny smirked as he walked through the kitchen.

  Karen narrowed her eyes. She’d already burned one meal since we moved in.

  “It’s the thought that counts, right?” I opened the freezer and pulled out some burritos.

  She gave me a small smile. “Right. Leave those burritos out, and I’ll heat up one for me.”

  “And one for me, too!” Johnny hollered from the other room.

  She shook her head. “Jerk insults my cooking then expects me to make him lunch? Fat chance.”

  Once I removed my steaming plate from the microwave, Karen said, “Hold on.” She brought over the pan and lifted the edge of the charred tortilla to reveal gooey cheese, chicken, mushrooms, and zucchini slices. She scooped some onto my plate.

  Actually, the quesadilla innards weren’t bad—just a little smoke-flavored. I’d eaten most of them and had started on my burrito by the time Karen and Johnny joined me at the kitchen table. Despite her protest, she’d made a plate for him, too.

  “Did you grow up in poverty, Karen?” he asked.

  Where did that question come from?

  She eyed him warily, like she’d had my same thought. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. Just noticed you don’t let food go to waste, and wondered where that came from.”

  She grunted. “Irish Catholic family, seven siblings. Dad worked as a beat cop, and Mom stayed at home. What do you think?”

  “I think you learned the value of food early on.”

  I looked at her. “Is that why you shove food at me all the time?”

  “No. I do that when you skip meals, like you know diabetics shouldn’t do.” She stared at me until I took another bite.

  “Where are you in the birth order?” asked Johnny. “Wait—let me guess. Oldest, right?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that?”

  Because you’re bossy.

  “B
ecause you take care of people,” he said.

  Judging by the way her fair skin glowed, his response was much better than mine would’ve been.

  Johnny continued. “Sometimes if feels like Teo and I are your younger siblings, and you try to take care of us.”

  “Lord knows what you two would be up to if I didn’t.” She cut a neat piece of burrito and popped it in her mouth.

  “I think we’d be okay,” Johnny said. “We have the backup team, too.”

  Two agents lived in an apartment between the greenhouse and campus. I saw them once in a while, but mostly they operated behind the scenes in coordinating protection for Lucy and me.

  “There’s a reason they’re the backup team.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Johnny dipped his chin. “You should give them more credit.”

  “You guys bicker like an old married couple.” I shook my head. “Hey, why do all our protection teams have a male and a female agent? Alex has Brad and China, Lucy’s got Frank and Allie, and I’m stuck with you two.”

  “The director likes it that way for our younger protectees,” Johnny said. “Sort of like a second mom and dad.”

  “One’s enough,” I grumbled.

  “We’ll try to stop arguing like we’re married,” Karen said. She dipped her chin as she aimed a stern look up at Johnny.

  “She only wishes she could bed a young stud like me.” He grinned.

  They did look about twenty years apart. “How old are you?”

  He shrugged. “Almost twenty-six.”

  My eyes bugged. “You’re younger than Alex? So you were only what—twenty-three?—when you were protecting Jessica?”

  “You haven’t heard about Wonderboy?” Karen asked.

  “I guess not.”

  “Johnny was on Senator Monroe’s advance team right after he finished training at Glynco. He busted up a terrorist plot to bomb her campaign bus. When Senator Monroe found out, she asked him to protect Jessica.”

  I’d considered Johnny sort of immature and sort of awkward at times, but never a super agent. “I hadn’t heard that story.”

  “That’s because our boy’s modest.”

  Johnny looked down as he shoveled in a bite of burrito.

  “How’d you bust up the plot?” I asked.

  He finished chewing and shrugged. “Idiots left a trail on social media. Anyone could’ve figured it out.”

  “But you’re the only one who did.” Karen rose and took our plates to the sink.

  Johnny sat back in his chair and patted his belly. “Bastards are getting sneakier these days, encrypting their messages.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know that.

  Karen returned with a test strip. “Okay? We forgot to test before the meal.”

  “Sure.”

  After seeing the number, she prepared an injection.

  “Do you plan to work out later?” she asked.

  I nodded. The gym in the basement was almost better than the one in the White House. But not as great as running outside, which I hadn’t been able to do since Dad got elected.

  Johnny looked away as she gave me the insulin. The injections seemed to make him uncomfortable. I noticed the dose Karen gave me was lower than normal, probably titrated for my exercise. I didn’t need as much insulin on the days I used the treadmill.

  Johnny looked back at me. “Want me to run with you?”

  Fortunately we had two treadmills downstairs. “I think, given what I’ve learned today about your mad skills, I’d rather you work on the computer than on your fitness.”

  He grinned. “But once I identify the ISIS douchebags, I gotta catch them.”

  “True that. Four thirty work for you?”

  “Perfect.”

  I supposed that meant I should study until then. I retrieved my music theory textbook from my backpack and sat at the kitchen table. Tonal Harmony. Sounded riveting. Escuincle stalked into the kitchen and leaped soundlessly onto a chair next to me. I scratched the top of his head, and he purred his approval.

  After a while, I heard the beeps of the front door alarm resetting, then Lucia swept into the kitchen. Her hot pink T-shirt had a volleyball on it with the saying:

  I DON’T SWEAT…I SPARKLE

  She smiled when she saw me. “Hey, best man.”

  “Hola, maid.” Lucia had been thrilled when Maddie had asked her to be maid of honor. And I cracked myself up every time I used her new title. “You want a frozen burrito?”

  “We have a team meal in a couple of hours, before the game.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had a game tonight. Do you want me to go?”

  “Oh, it’s just an exhibition game. The other team sucks. You don’t have to waste your time.”

  I nodded.

  “But I’d love if you could make our first home game this weekend.”

  I shrugged. “Sure.” Then I remembered Itch’s invitation. “As long as it’s not the same time as band rehearsal.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re in a band?”

  “Well, no…but I met these two guys in music theory class…”

  Lucia was positively beaming.

  “What?”

  “That’s so great, Matty! You’re making friends here!”

  “Let’s not go too fast. They already made fun of how I smell from your damn shampoo.”

  She laughed as she approached and took a whiff of my girly essence. “Yummy.” She shimmied her hands through my hair, ruffling and tousling it. “Oh, Mateo! Your hair’s so sensual.”

  “Stop it, maid.” I ducked away but couldn’t help smiling. Grabbing the cat off the chair, I held him up in front of my face. “Save me, Squinks!”

  Lucia scratched under his chin and cooed, “There you are, Mr. Squinkster! How’s my wittle muffin bratty baby?”

  Gag. I hated her baby talk. I replaced Escuincle in his chair.

  With a sigh, she sat at the table on the other side of me. “I think Dane left some shampoo here a while ago. I’ll try to find it for you.”

  I pretend-gasped. “Don’t let Dad find out Dane sleeps over.”

  “I know, right? Dad would need the White House doctor to revive him.”

  “I wonder if he’d be cool with Alex and Maddie getting it on, now that they’re engaged.”

  Her head tilted as she studied me. “You know that ship has sailed, right?”

  “Oh, right. You hear the details from Maddie.”

  Her nose scrunched. “Not the details, because…eww. But I do know they didn’t wait long. Dad’s not being realistic to think we’ll wait until marriage. He’s so archaic sometimes.”

  “So I’m the only Ramirez not having sex. Awesome.”

  She frowned at me. “That’s a good thing. You’re the youngest, and there’s no rush.”

  I ignored her reassurance. “Just like I’m the only one who isn’t a stud athlete.”

  “Matty, we’ve talked about this. Even with diabetes, you could’ve stayed in baseball or soccer.”

  I looked down.

  “I know what you did,” she said. “I know the sacrifice you made. Mom freaked out every time you went to the hospital, so you stopped playing sports.”

  I remembered Mom’s whole body shaking when she held me after one collapse. I’d felt awful for making her so scared. “She couldn’t handle it,” I muttered.

  “We’ll never know.” Her earnest brown eyes blinked up at me. “But, Matty, that’s in the past. Now’s the time you can focus on you. College is great for that. You don’t have to worry about pleasing Mom and Dad, or Alex, or me, even. It’s about finding your own path.”

  I twisted to look into the TV room. “Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Filming a motivational commercial?”

  She gave me a look. “Puta.”

  “Ohh, that’s not very nice language from the president’s daughter.”

  “I think even Dad would approve in this case, sarcastic ass.” She removed her phone from her pocket, and a line creased on h
er forehead when she looked at it.

  “What is it?”

  She blinked. “Maybe nothing. Dane’s worried because Jessica hasn’t returned his texts. She’s probably just busy.”

  Probably busy with Suave Swimmer Shithead.

  Chapter 5

  A GLOB OF YELLOW PAINT dripped down my thumb as my paintbrush swept under the foam curlicue. I didn’t bother to wipe it off. The chlorine bath that awaited me in a few hours would clean my skin.

  Other than the soft music from my phone, Hopkins Hall was so quiet at night. I relished the solitude. It had been a little less than a week since the swimmer party. Since Blake…

  “Great movement—”

  I jumped at the sound of a male voice, and the brush flew across my face.

  “Damn!” The guy stepped back from my table, his brown eyes huge. “Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  My heart thrummed, and my body shook. I panted like I’d just swum a race.

  “You’ve got some paint…” He gestured to my face, then brushed his fingers across his cheekbone. “Here, um…” He swiveled around and walked to his table, then returned with a cloth.

  I shrunk back when he reached for my face.

  “Oh.” He held his hands up like I had a gun on him. “Here?” He handed the cloth to me.

  He must think I’m insane. I forced a swallow down my dry throat and accepted his offering. After I scrubbed my cheek, I attempted to smile. “Thanks. Sorry.”

  “Should’ve known better than to come into your space at two a.m.”

  I glanced at my watch. No wonder I was so tired.

  “You were really into it. I admire your focus.”

  It took me a moment to realize he might be flirting. He was about my height, with light brown hair gathered in a tiny man bun. His shirt was bright orange, and he wore skinny jeans held up with a braided belt. Gay, maybe? Or art student hipster?

  He continued, “Me, I’ve barely started my sculpture.” He pointed at pieces of foam board on his table. “But you’re almost done, and it’s not due till next week. Why’re you here so late?”

  Because I don’t want to go to sleep. “I’ve got a busy schedule. Trying to stay ahead of the game.”

  “You work, too?” He slid his hands into his pockets.