Today's Reading
Nina peers at David as she wipes her nose with her index finger and thumb, then falls back into her seat.
"What's your business in San Francisco?" David asks, if only to restrain his astonishment at what just happened. To contain the anger rising in his chest.
"The usual bullshit with one of my tech companies," Brad answers. He swallows another glass of champagne. "Jade said you're visiting your kid?"
"Yes, college Parents Weekend. Our daughter, Stella, is a freshman."
"Where? Stanford?"
The question always irks David. Santa Clara is a small but elite school without the brand recognition.
"SCU, a private school about an hour from Frisco," David says, using Brad's lingo and hating himself for it.
Brad shrugs and holds up his flute to signal to the flight attendant. "Top you off? Or get you something else to drink? She makes a mean Old Fashioned." Brad looks toward the flight attendant, his eyes fixing on her ass.
"You two don't look old enough to have a college student," Jade says, reclining back in the seat now. "The benefits of marrying a master surgeon," she adds, like it's an afterthought.
Nina smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I guess," she says. It's true, Nina is a beauty, but not by the scalpel. She practices yoga, eats healthy, and seemingly drinks gallons of water every day. With her glowing skin and bohemian style, she has the air of an aging-gracefully, girl-next-door fashion model. She's never said so, but she's always disapproved of David's chosen profession. These days, she disapproves of everything about David.
She still hasn't forgiven him, and probably never will. His mind flashes to that night. Naked in the back seat of his Range Rover. The anesthesiologist frantically tugging up her scrubs, tears streaming down her face, her husband standing outside the vehicle in the woodland near where she and David parked. The husband saying he called Nina and told her.
Then—
Brad's voice mercifully breaks the memory. "You guys in the club?"
"Club?" David asks.
"The mile-high one." Brad cocks one of his thick brows.
David offers a polite smile. "Can't say that I am."
"There's a small bedroom in the back. Feel free to..." He makes a clucking sound with his tongue.
David turns to Nina, who is downing another glass of champagne and seems out of it. Even after the coke, there's no way she'd want David to touch her, much less join "the club."
But then his wife surprises him. "Will you be joining us?" she says to Brad and Jade.
Brad's Adam's apple bobs up and down.
What in the fuck? David glares at his wife. "Nina's a kidder," he says.
"Damn," Brad says, "this was just getting interesting." He leans forward, slaps David on the ball of his shoulder.
"I'll take that drink," David calls out to the flight attendant.
Later, Nina doesn't know whether to be annoyed or satisfied that David hasn't spoken to her since they landed and escaped that awful couple. Not a word in the back of the town car waiting for them at the airstrip. Not at the rental car place. Not now, waiting for their daughter to meet them in front of the fountain at the center of campus. That's David's specialty. The silent treatment.
A Maldonado inheritance passed down generation after generation, from father to son.
To be fair, she was acting out. But what does he expect?
Still jittery from the cocaine, she downs a bottle of water. Nina was a party girl in college, but usually just booze. She tried coke two times and never liked it. She's remembering why. The brief euphoria is dwarfed by the anxiety. The need to chatter, an urge she's had to fight, given David's cold shoulder. And honestly, it's his fault she acted that way.
She stops herself from the internal rant. This weekend isn't about them. Isn't about their marital problems. It's about Stella.
"Are you going to give me the silent treatment all weekend?" she asks.
David ignores the question, stares out at the campus church, a sand-colored Spanish-style structure with a bell tower. David is a lapsed Catholic with all the guilt that carries.
"Can we at least try to get along for Stella?" she continues.
This excerpt ends on page 17 of the hardcover edition.
Monday, September 15th, we begin the book South of Nowhere by Jeffery Deaver.
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