Game Over Boys, page 13
I’ve got this, Maxie; don’t worry about me.
X draws my sister away from the melee, but only after another nod from me. I’m glad she’s here, but I don’t want her taking swings at Veronica. There’s no need, really. This girl’s fate is already sealed.
I take my ice cream with me and head off in search of Chasm. I sample it as I walk, enjoying long, languorous licks that draw the eyes of every asshole at that party. There are no adults to be seen right now. Even the employees scooping ice cream are teenagers.
But even teens are capable of wickedness.
Lumen struggles to keep up with me, a towering pink ice cream nightmare perched on her own cone. As she moves through the crowd, she pauses briefly to whisper in one ear or another. Curious eyes flick my way, some of them coupled with knowing smirks. Huh.
I stop walking and allow Lumen to catch up. Maybe she’ll cause less trouble if we’re in close proximity? I might like the girl, but there’s no doubt that she’s a pot-stirrer.
“Let me get a pic of this triple bubblegum mess before it melts all over me,” she says, pointing at the yellow and blue wrapper of the Dubble Bubble gum perched on the top, an inedible decoration unless it’s unwrapped. Lumen puts the ice cream up near her face, using her phone to snap several pics while I take in the other students.
My heart drops as I spot a familiar face in the crowd.
Delphine is here.
“You okay?” Lumen asks, blond hair casually arranged around her pretty face. I doubt there’s anything casual at all about the easy nature of it, a trap in disguise, like a trapdoor spider building a tunnel to draw in unsuspecting prey.
I nod, but my throat is right; I don’t want to talk to Delphine right now.
I especially don’t want Delphine around Maxie.
Lumen tosses her ice cream—but not before plucking off the bubblegum—and chews it noisily as she waits to see what I’m going to do next. So she can report back to Justin? So she can manipulate me? Because she’s actually my friend?
I have no idea.
Delphine spots me a second later, standing with her back to the exterior stone wall of the house—correction mansion—and surveying the crowd in much the same way I am. People avoid her, whether because of her association with Justin or because she used to be ‘the help’, I’m not sure.
When she sees me, a genuine smile takes over her lips.
I approach her, but even though I’m smiling back, I’m thinking of the scissors in her hand, Maxine’s hair in her fist, and Justin’s words spilling from her mouth.
“Baby sister.” The words are soft, almost an exhale. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you, but you haven’t been answering your phone or responding to my texts.” Delphine pushes off the wall, her words fading into strained silence. I look into her brown eyes and wonder how much she knows. Could she have warned me about Nevaeh’s death? Did she really fly to New York and watch my friend suffer an unnecessary tragedy?
Did she carry out more of the murders herself? The killer’s letter did mention a maid, didn’t it?
Somehow, I don’t believe that she’s a killer. I don’t know why; I just don’t. But I can’t trust anyone, I think, not fully. Only in parts and pieces. Only in fragments.
“I’m so sorry about your friend.” Delphine lifts up her arms, but only halfway, her lithe form cloaked in a pink cape gown. More pink, ugh. It’s pretty though, undoubtedly expensive, draped in glittering chains of crystals that catch the light as she moves. The dress’ slit goes all the way up to her thigh.
I don’t accept the hug.
How could I, after she insinuated—whether true or false—that she was there when Nevaeh died? I’m disgusted by the offer.
I take another bite of my ice cream.
“You seem different,” Delphine hedges, a flicker of uncertainty on her face making me question myself all over again. For the briefest of instances, she looks like the old Delphine, the one I met while she was working for the Vanguards. Which Delphine is real? The meek maid or the sleek socialite? Both? Neither?
“Do I?” I ask, wondering if she’s simply seeing what I feel inside.
A break. A crack. An unveiling.
Lumen hovers nearby, loudly smacking the gum she rescued off her discarded ice cream.
Delphine hesitates again, sweeping back a curtain of blond hair from her face.
Look at the three of us, all wearing the same shade. Pretty fucked-up in pink.
“What am I doing here tonight?” I ask, wondering if she knows what Justin’s plans are. I’m not here just to eat ice cream and socialize.
“What do you mean?” Delphine replies, as innocently as if she were telling the truth. Right. Asking her for help or advice is totally and completely useless. Either she’s perfectly complicit or she’s as dedicated to her role as Maxx is.
I turn to face the crowd, only to find them all facing off right back against me. Danyella is making her way toward us in a sleeveless yellow midi dress with black boots. Her braids are twisted into a ponytail at the base of her neck, her glasses thick and dark and scholarly.
“Dakota, I was sorry to hear about Nevaeh’s passing,” Danyella offers, and I can’t help it, my suspicion roils.
Everyone seems suspect. Nothing is what it seems. I look around, still searching for Chasm, wondering why he isn’t back yet. It’s not like him to leave me hanging for so long. He doesn’t trust Lumen or Danyella, not Delphine, not even Maxim Wright.
“Thanks.” It’s the only word I can manage to get out. Danyella and I stare at each other, and an itch builds at the base of my spine. Like something’s coming. Like I’m standing in front of a speeding train.
I swallow hard, but I don’t let the unease show on my face. Any weakness here will be exploited.
Welcome to hell. You’ve got bite, but is it enough? Don’t trust anyone at Whitehall. Don’t trust anyone in this town. Cursed in blood and diamonds. People have been warning me all along, haven’t they?
I exhale, the music a dramatic drift of violins, the groaning of bassoons, the whining of violas. It seems to swirl around me in a summer breeze, raising goose bumps on my bare arms.
“Do you want to introduce me to your friends?” Delphine asks, but I’m sure she already knows who they are. Maybe she’s even met them before. I look back at her, but I don’t smile. Our eyes meet, and I swear that the desperate gleam in them is real. She wants me to like her; I truly believe that.
“Why don’t I just introduce you to my sister?” I ask, even though the two have already met. It was a miserable sleepover, having Delphine taking constant jabs at Maxie. She takes the insult to heart, glancing away as Lumen continues to smack her gum like she’s anxious as hell, and Danyella shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
When Chasm appears out of the crowd, red-faced and panting, I’m happy to see him. But then … why is he red-faced and panting?
As soon as he sees me, he tries to make his way in my direction. The crowd of glittering, gossiping socialites stops him, creating a wall of designer clothes and disturbed half-smiles. Not everyone is attempting to block his way—despite the drama, most of Whitehall adores Chas—but we’ve got the usual suspects leading a revolt. Antonio. Gavin. Philippa. Tinfoil Bitch.
“Get the fuck out of my way before I make you get the fuck out of my way.” He’s breathing so hard that he almost chokes on an inhale, shoving his jacket sleeve over his mouth. I wonder what happened, to have him so worked-up the way he is, for him to be this late.
Lumen is staring at the ground now, and my gaze drifts to hers. She lifts up those light brown eyes, the color of fallen leaves at the end of autumn, just before a frost. That cold, too.
She turns at the sound of footsteps on the marble floors inside, and we both look to see Parrish striding through the foyer of the Fisher’s home. He’s headed in our direction, clothed in a pink tie and a white dress shirt, a gray suit.
His eyes catch mine as he pauses beside me, reaching out with courtly fingers to stroke my cheek. There’s an anger in his gaze that brings out the gold flecks in his irises, scintillates his frenzy. There’s a purpose there, too, grim and resolute. Like Maxx?
“Keep in mind that everything is bullshit, Gamer Girl,” he whispers, slipping past me to snatch Lumen’s arm in a tight grip.
“Fuck,” I hear Chasm groan, sweeping both hands over his face. He drops his arms to his sides and then slips out of his jacket, tossing it onto one of the stone half-walls that meander through the courtyard and garden. He rolls up his shirtsleeves next, a threat in his amber gaze. “If you guys don’t move, I’ll drop you. This is the only warning you’re gonna get.”
Parrish yanks Lumen toward him, his attention on her face and not on mine. Well, for a moment anyway. He lets it slip past, winks at me, and then returns his focus to her with a nobleman’s frown blooming on his pouty lips.
People around us titter and whisper, and I see Lumen’s shoulders tense in response.
“My grandmother gave me a gift earlier this evening,” Parrish begins as I stare at him, trying to puzzle out why he’s here when he’s supposed to be back at Laverne’s house with Tess. If he isn’t there, and I’m not there … it’s only a matter of time before she realizes we’re both missing again. What the hell, Parrish?
But if he’s here, I smell Justin’s handiwork.
Ice cream melts down the side of my cone and spreads sticky across my fingers; I drop my clutch to the ground with my broken phone inside.
“A gift?” Lumen asks coquettishly, blinking those long falsies of hers at him. She smacks the gum, not so demure anymore, and then blows a bubble. Parrish reaches out with a single finger and pops it, making her giggle. His lip twitches at one corner, but not in a smile. He blinks to clear the flash of wild lightning from his expression.
“A ring.” Parrish draws a small box from his pocket, staring down at the black velvet. His hand is shaking. Is it supposed to shake? He looks up, but not at me. Still staring at Lumen. “Laverne seems to think it’d be beneficial to both of us if we were to marry.” He snaps the box open and hands it out to her, and she takes it with a sly smile and not an ounce of surprise.
“If this is your way of proposing, you could use a lesson in flirtation.” Lumen accepts the box with a smile as Parrish’s expression remains absurdly neutral.
“I could teach a masterclass in flirtation.” He watches stoically as Lumen removes the ring, this absurdly huge pink diamond in a silver setting. “This is a legal and social arrangement, not a promise that I won’t cheat. Is there a single person in this town who’s faithful?” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, and I notice Lumen stiffen up even more at the slight.
“Cute, real funny,” she replies with a forced laugh, like it’s all a big joke to her. I’m not entirely sure that it is. I have no words. I have no emotions. I feel nothing as I watch her slip the ring on her finger. “Yes, Parrish Vanguard, I will marry you.” Lumen looks up, face beaming, and even though I know—I fucking know—that most, if not all, of this is performance art intended for Justin’s eyes, I waver. The crack grows larger.
I stare at the happy couple as Chasm curses again, and then he’s throwing a punch. Several of the boys move to intercept him as he ends up in a scuffle with Gavin and Antonio and the other unnamed rich assholes who always seem keen to do their bidding. Most of the crowd remains uninvolved, but they sure do like to watch.
I shove between Parrish and Lumen, ignoring both Maxie and Delphine as they call out to me, and I enter the fray. I throw a punch of my own at Antonio’s face, and he howls like a long-tailed cat under a rocking chair. These assholes must’ve known what was coming. Why else would they bother to block Chasm? They didn’t want him to warn me that this was coming. Which means they knew. Which means … what was Lumen whispering as she threaded her way through the crowd?
Somebody grabs my hair from behind, yanking me back. Chasm is fighting his way to me, but the melee doesn’t last long enough for either him or me to truly throw down. Probably a good thing: this was bound to get bloody. Maybe even lethal. I don’t trust anyone in Medina.
A quiet ripple breaks the crowd just as I manage to free my hair from the grasping hands of whoever it was that just attacked me—Veronica, of course—and I turn to see what all the commotion is about.
I’m panting now, shaking all over. My knuckles are split, so I must’ve really given Antonio something to think about. I rub the blood off on Lumen’s dress. I’m sure it’s expensive; if she needs compensation, Justin can give it to her.
Tess is making her way toward us, walking slowly, hair coiffed, a one-shoulder black maxi dress draping her svelte form. She has a sparkly clutch at her side and a wicked expression on her handsome face.
She comes to a stop just a foot or so away from me and Chasm. The other students have retreated slightly. I don’t blame them. Seeing the way Tess offers up a tight smile before shifting her gaze to a white-faced Parrish, I can see we’re in a world of trouble here.
Tess Vanguard looks like the millionaire crime novelist she is. She looks like a woman married to a billionaire’s family. She looks like a woman possessed.
“Dakota.” She turns her attention back to me, and I swear, I tremble. Somehow, I’m almost more afraid of Tess than I am of Justin. It doesn’t make any sense, but there it is.
Another woman walks out wearing red, her gown whispering just above the stones of the courtyard. She seems to be about the same age as Tess and Justin—mid-thirties thereabouts—her face similar enough to Veronica’s that I make the connection. I’ve seen this woman before: Ellen Fisher, Veronica’s mother, the lawyer who railroaded Justin through the courts. Also, the lawyer who now works for Tess’ publisher, the one who’s suing her for refusing to write Returned Under the Guise of Night.
“Tess,” Ellen greets, smiling like a shark as she looks her opponent over. “So nice of you to come, but I don’t recall extending an invitation.” Ellen titters, putting a hand to her lips in false modesty. “You and I are a little too old for drama, don’t you think?”
“Drama is just a word for nonsense without follow-through. I’m not here for drama.” Tess smiles again, moving over to the ice cream cart as everyone else stares. She orders a double scoop of strawberry on a waffle cone, ten-thousand dollar clutch in one hand, dessert in the other. And then she licks it, all while still staring at Ellen. “This is my week, Dakota. Not your father’s. I won’t share. If he wants you to attend these fancy parties, he can win the hearing on Monday.” She starts back in the direction she came from, calling out behind her. “Kwang-seon, Parrish, Maxim, Maxine. Now.”
Without waiting to see if we’ll follow, she disappears down the set of stone steps that lead to the expansive white gravel drive. This time, I do bite my lip. I can’t help it.
“Damn it.” Chasm takes my hand, yanking me along after the ice queen.
At first, I didn’t like Tess’ ability to shapeshift into one of Medina’s moneyed monsters.
Now I understand it. The dorky, quirky, plot-muttering author who piddles around in the kitchen, making voices for her characters as she talks out scenes, that’s the real Tess. Or, shall we say, the original Tess. It’s a version of Tess that never could’ve survived Justin’s abuse. A version that never would’ve survived Medina and Laverne and the fourteen-year loss of a daughter.
Just as the world has encouraged Tess to transform herself in ways she might not otherwise have done, it’s doing the same to me. There’s old Dakota, original Dakota, the one who put spiders outside and refused to kill an errant wasp trapped in her bedroom. Then there’s this Dakota, the one who murdered a corrupt police officer named Heath Cousins because it was him or her, him or her friends.
Because the world didn’t give her good choices.
I follow after Tess with Chasm by my side, and I don’t look behind me until we reach a white limousine—Laverne’s limousine—and climb in. Tess waits for us to pile in before she joins us, taking the final seat near the door.
Parrish is seated beside her, soaked in sweat and staring at the floor.
I can’t imagine what Justin did to encourage him to propose to Lumen, but if I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt … I turn to Maxx, but he’s just looking at the floor.
I, too, decide to stare at the floor.
We return to Laverne’s house, only to find the woman herself waiting on the massive front porch, a navy pantsuit offsetting the gold of her eyes, Parrish’s eyes.
“I told you to leave them be,” Laverne barks out, and Tess pauses just beside her, turning to face her mother-in-law. “You’ve made fools of them all in front of their classmates. How are they going to demand respect from their peers when you’re over there making a scene?”
“Laverne.” Tess’ eyes flash as the rest of us stand in our finery on the driveway, just below the steps, as if not a single person dares join this battle. “You are one of the richest, most powerful women in the world.” She emphasizes the words in such a way that they feel like they’re being grated out of her teeth, flecks of ivory staining the air between them. “You could have me killed and no one would question it. If they did, you could cover it up. There isn’t a politician you can’t buy or a person you can’t own.” Here, my mother—and I really am starting to think of her that way—forces a hideous smile. “But what you can’t do is buy your son or your grandchildren. You can’t threaten them either. Given the choice between you, your money, and me, they’ll pick me. Every. Single. Goddamn. Time. Therefore, I am done taking your shit.”
“Excuse me?!” Laverne practically shrieks, her eyes widening, hands clenching into fists. “What nonsense are you prattling on about now?”
“Leave me and my fucking children alone,” Tess growls out, and then she’s striding forward and inside, still holding onto her ice cream. We follow dutifully along behind her, like designer-clad ducklings.
That’s how Tess makes me feel sometimes: like a duckling.
It’s not a totally negative thing. At this point, I’m grateful for the intervention.
