Chapter 4
Something in that got to Stephen, though I couldn't tell you which word did it.
His hand jerked.
The phone slipped out of it and landed on the floor mat.
My teacher got no answer and figured he was blowing her off.
She was shouting now. "I mean every word of it!
"If anything has happened to Alysha, I'll burn my whole career down to make sure everyone knows what you are!"
Stephen didn't pick the phone up, and I couldn't tell whether he heard any of it.
He had gone somewhere else entirely, staring down at that mat.
He might have been looking at the phone or at nothing at all, because his eyes weren't focused on anything.
My teacher got a few more curses in and hung up on him.
It took Stephen a long time to lift his head and look at his assistant up front.
His voice wasn't steady. "Where do you think she went?"
The assistant told him the truth. "I really don't know, Mr. Foster."
Something close to panic came into his face.
"The Sutton deals. Move faster on them."
The assistant caught his eye in the mirror. "Any faster and something's going to break, Mr. Foster."
Stephen cut him off. "I know what I'm doing. Do it my way.
"And clear a week for me at the end of the month. I'm flying out."
The assistant nodded and let it go.
Stephen pressed a thumb into his temple with his brows drawn tight.
"I don't know why, but something doesn't feel right."
I looked at Stephen sitting there with his face all knotted up, and I could hardly believe it.
He had thrown me away months ago, and here he was, apparently still caring.
It had been so long since I had seen him look like that over me.
All I had watched him do for years was cover for Emma and give her whatever she wanted.
In the years I lived in that house, Emma held it against me that I had been with Stephen first, and she made me pay for it over and over.
Stephen put himself between her and everything, every time.
My junior year, the school put on a welcome show.
They picked my solo to close it, and I had drilled it for months.
The day before the show, Emma came around a corner with an open carafe of scalding coffee and walked right into me.
It went down my calf and put me on the floor, white-faced and sweating through my shirt.
A few drops caught the back of Emma's hand, and she cradled it like a broken bone with her eyes filling up.
My roommate went after her and nearly took a swing.
Stephen got in front of Emma and said one thing to me.
"Alysha, quit making a scene and apologize to Em."
I swallowed the tears that were already coming.
Emma was the one he cared about, and Emma was the only one he believed.
You could put anything in front of him and he still wouldn't accept that she was the one in the wrong.
Maybe he decided I had made the whole thing up.
Or maybe he decided I had scalded my own leg by accident while trying to burn her hand.
Either way it came to the same thing.
The Fosters owned that university.
If Stephen decided to protect someone, nobody there was going to stop him.
I went on the next night anyway.
I had been dancing since I was 7, and I had never once walked away from a stage.
Right before I went on, Emma made a fuss about accompanying me on piano.
Stephen went to the school himself, and a piano piece that had no business being there went into my solo at the last minute.
I danced that night on a burned leg while Stephen sat in the front row.
He watched Emma the entire time.
He never once looked over at me.
By the end the burn had split open, blood had glued the fabric to my leg, and my back was soaked through.
I watched Stephen come up onto the stage, and out of nowhere I wanted to cry.
I thought about him kneeling at my father's bed and promising to take care of me for the rest of my life.
He came across the boards toward me.
For a second I let myself picture him reaching down and helping me up.
Maybe then I'd forgive him.
He walked straight past me to Emma.
He took her hand to lead her off, and as they passed me I heard him clearly.
"I told you not to play with your hand like that. Does it still hurt?"