by S. L. Stacy
“You don’t really need to dress like Siobhan, right? Your”—when Jimmy falters, I imagine him taking a furtive glance around the store— “ability takes care of that. You can make the Elliots think they’re seeing her and wearing anything she’d typically wear.”
“True.” With the new dress slung over my arm, I emerge again. Jimmy stands up. “But this will help me truly embody the role. I can’t fuck this up. Victoria will kill me.” If the Elder Council doesn’t get to me first. “Now, let’s move it. We aren’t done yet. I think a pair of extra glittery pink heels and a diamond tiara will really round out this look.” Jimmy makes no move to go, gaping at me. “Kidding.”
Looking unconvinced, he follows me to the cashier.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks me later as we’re getting back in his car. Well, actually, it’s his sister’s truck. We’re borrowing it. It’s a big, glaring yellow, monstrosity of a thing. As Jimmy starts it up, I feel like we’re about to take a banana for a spin.
“Anna really seems to have a thing for yellow,” I muse, thinking about the curtains hanging in their kitchen.
“Don’t change the subject,” he says. “And what’s wrong with yellow?”
“Nothing, I guess. It’s just so...joyful.” I cringe.
“God, you are really emo sometimes.”
“What’s emo?”
“It’s...never mind.”
“Look, I know you’re worried about Siobhan.” I grind out her name like a curse word. “She’s your childhood friend, your high school sweetheart.” Blah, blah, blah. “I get that.”
“I am worried about her.” He eases to a stop at a red light. “From what you told me, it doesn’t sound like she’s in a fun place. But I’m worried about you, too.”
“Well, don’t be.” Crossing my arms, I sink down in my seat. “I’m fine.”
“The Gamma Lambda Phis are taking advantage of you,” he argues. “At least Victoria is. She’s not an all-around terrible person, but she is using you for your powers. And to lie to the Elliots, who are good people. Maybe she can’t be completely honest with them, but she doesn’t have to use you to pretend everything’s normal. It’s worse than a lie, it’s...just plain wrong.”
The light changes, and the car surges forward. Instead of answering right away, I roll down the window, letting the wind blow my hair into my face.
I know he’s right. Dammit. He’s always right. Although I’m not convinced he’s genuinely worried about me, he’s spot on about Victoria. She has me on a short leash, and it’s starting to choke. But don’t I deserve it? I’m not just doing this because she told me to, or even to avoid punishment at the hands of the council. I’m doing this because I caused it to begin with. Siobhan is in Pandora because of me.
Which Jimmy doesn’t know yet. I left that part out when I told him Victoria’s plan. If he finds out the truth, he’ll hate me forever.
“I don’t see it that way,” I insist. “I see it as a...tonic, of sorts. It will reassure them, make them feel better. That way, if anything truly terrible happens”—like, you know, Siobhan being stuck their permanently—“at least they will have seen her, one last time, and remember her being...happy.”
Steering one-handed, Jimmy glances at me. “Do you think…” Returning his eyes to the road, he trails off. His unspoken question hangs in the air between us, a heavy, tangible thing. I consider flinging open the car door and throwing myself onto the road just to avoid answering it.
“No.” I keep my tone soft, gentle. “No, of course not.” I’m not usually one to sugarcoat things. I tell it like it is, and if you can’t handle it, that’s your problem, not mine. But in this case, if it will spare Jimmy the pain of knowing his ex might be in mortal danger, I’m willing to pour a little sugar over the truth, and maybe some honey and maple syrup, too. “Siobhan will be fine. Victoria will figure everything out. She always does.” Jimmy nods.
We drive on in silence.
As we’re leaving the city proper, he finally turns on some music. Something with shrieking guitar chords and a gritty quality, like it was recorded in a garage forty years ago. Knowing Jimmy’s taste, it probably was.
“What the hell is this?” I demand, propping an elbow on the windowsill. “I want to listen to something normal for once. Like Justin Bieber.”
“This is The Velvet Underground, and I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” Nevertheless, he skips ahead a few songs. The one he stops at is still old-sounding but more tolerable. Over swelling music, a soothing voice starts to sing, the kind of voice that manages to reach the very core of you. If I were human, I guess I would say it feels like it’s touching my soul. But Olympians don’t have souls. Still, I sense as though there’s this empty place deep inside of me, where a soul might have been, that this song is currently filling with the strangest mixture of soaring hope and unquenchable longing.
“I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins
Like dolphins can swim…”
“What is this?” I wonder, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I bite my lower lip, refusing to cry. Especially over some dumb human song.
Jimmy looks smug. “David Bowie.”
“Well, he’s awful. The music makes me feel like my heart is going to burst. And he has the voice of an angel.”
“Yeah. Just awful.” He chuckles.
“Justin Bieber is much better,” I mutter, diverting my gaze out the window.
“I heard that.”
Leaving the song on full blast, Jimmy drives on. Eventually, the song changes, and I feel like I can breathe again. Unbuckling my seat belt, I pull my shirt up and over my head, flinging it into the back seat.
“Um.” Jimmy’s eyes flick over to me. “What are you doing?”
“Changing. Eyes on the road, perv.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he reminds me. “But someone else might see you.”
I take my new, girly dress out of the shopping bag, ripping off the tag. “We’re pretty much out in the boonies now, so there’s really no one around to see me. Plus, I can make myself invisible to onlookers. Special powers. Remember?” Well, it’s not so much that I become invisible as it is I can make someone nearby think they can’t see me. Not that I’m currently doing that, either. Why would I deprive someone of the chance to see me topless? I’m crazy hot.
Looping my head and arms through the dress, I tug it on, leaning forward to zip it up in the back. After it’s on, I take my skirt off. It joins my shirt in the back seat.
As I buckle up again, I study my silver-studded, black ankle boots. They don’t exactly scream sorority chic, but they’ll have to do.
Woop-woop. The sound of a siren goes off behind us, two brief but startling bursts. Forehead knotted, Jimmy turns the music off. I look back to find a set of flashing red and blue lights tailing us.
“Jesus Christ,” Jimmy groans, punching the wheel. “The cops. Again?” Despite his frustration, he slows down and starts to pull over.
“You weren’t even going that fast.” I watch the police car pull up behind us on the shoulder. A pang of guilt goes through me, and I wonder, for a moment, if my brief strip-tease in the car has gotten us in trouble. Humans are such prudes.
My remorse fizzles out quickly when I see who gets out of the car.
Chapter 7
“They call me homewrecker”
Jimmy rolls down the window just as Officer Rodriguez is walking up. She peers inside, her eyes narrowed at us like missiles. “Oh. It’s you,” she says upon seeing Jimmy, her eyebrows disappearing up into her hairline. “The guy who keeps his girlfriends locked up in the basement.” He doesn’t say anything, merely pouts as he waits for her to continue. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going there, Quicksilver?”
“I don’t know, like…five or six miles above the speed limit?” He shrugs.
Rodriguez shakes her head, her ponytail falling to one side from the motion. I can
see something painted white on the skin of the back of her shoulder, peeking up from her shirt collar. A tattoo? “Try fifteen. This is Laurel County, not the Indy 500.”
Considering she’s campus police, I’m pretty sure Laurel is a little outside of her jurisdiction, but I force myself to stay quiet. If I’d been expecting to see her again, I might have shown her the Siobhan illusion, just for consistency, but it’s too late now.
“Who’s this?” I feel strangely vulnerable as her eyes settle on me. Leaning across Jimmy, I smirk up at her.
“I’m Pat,” I say sweetly. “The girlfriend.”
“I thought Barbie was your girlfriend.” Her voice is almost accusatory as she looks back to him. Jimmy rubs the back of his neck, squirming in his seat.
“Oh, you mean Siobhan?” I smile. “Yes, she’s our girlfriend, too. We’re in a triad, actually.”
Rodriguez furrows her brow. “A what?”
“A triad,” I repeat. “A three-person relationship.”
“Are you going to give me a ticket, or what?” Jimmy practically yelps at the same time.
Her eyes continuing to flick between us, Rodriguez shakes her head slowly. “I’ll let you off with a warning. This time. Just remember to slow down,” she says to Jimmy, drumming her fingers against the side of the truck. “And…” Trailing off, she stares at me for a few moments, as though waiting for me to sprout a second head. “There’s something weird going on here. I don’t know what it is, but something’s off. And it has nothing to do with…triads, or whatever.” Straightening up, she turns, muttering something that sounds a lot like damn millennials as she saunters back to her car.
Jimmy waits for her to leave before pulling back onto the highway.
“That was weird,” I say after a while.
“Tell me about it,” he agrees. “Getting the same cop twice in one day. What are the chances?”
With his eyes on the road, he doesn’t notice me gaping at him. “Slim to none. That wasn’t a coincidence. She was following us. Had to be.”
“Really?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You heard her. She knows something’s off. I’m what’s off. She’s seen me as Siobhan now, and as myself.”
“I didn’t think anyone could see past your illusions.”
“Most people can’t. But it’s not impossible,” I admit. “Plus, I don’t think she realizes it was an illusion, just that something’s not quite right.”
“Well, I hope she’s had enough detective work for one day.” Glancing down at the speedometer, he eases his pressure on the gas slightly. The needle’s been at an even fifty-five since we got back on the road. “We’re about fifteen minutes out,” he tells me. “Feeling ready?”
I nod, fingering the gauzy material of the dress. It is pretty. My Back To Black nail polish glares harshly against it. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Do you mind if we stop at my house first? Just for a few minutes. I’d feel weird if I came back to Laurel without seeing my parents.”
“Sure. Of course.” Releasing the dress, I rest my hands in my lap. “Do you want me to…”
“Do I want you to what?” he asks when I don’t finish the thought.
“I mean, I should probably make them think I’m Siobhan, too, in case they talk to her parents.” I look out the window, watching the scenery whiz by. The leaves on the trees in the distance are starting to change, turning the rolling hills into a patchwork of green, orange, and gold. Under the gray sky, the colors look slightly muted, as though I’m looking at them reflected in a murky lake.
“Yeah. Sure.” When he replies, I turn to look at him again. His eyes are on the road, his square jaw set. “I wouldn’t mind introducing you to them, but yeah, that makes sense. Don’t want to complicate the plan too much.”
“Is this weird for you?” I wonder quietly. “That I’m pretending to be Siobhan. Again. It has to be weird.”
Jimmy doesn’t answer me at first. From his expression, you wouldn’t think the question ruffled him, except he’s clutching the steering wheel as though his hands are the only things keeping it connected to the rest of the car. “It’s not that weird,” he finally says. “At least this time it’s for a good cause.” Grip relaxing, he smirks.
“I said I was sorry for that.” The last time I pretended to be Siobhan, I did it because I’d wanted to seduce him. Playing his ex was the only thing that did the trick, although I’d hated every minute of it.
“I know. I forgave you, remember? Even though it was wrong. And, well, creepy.”
“It wasn’t like it was fun for me. I wanted to get your attention, and nothing else seemed to be working. I’m not used to not getting my way, you know.”
“But you could have waited. Gotten to know me a little better first.” When one of his hands leaves the wheel, I assume he’s about to turn the music back on, effectively ending our conversation.
Instead, he reaches over, clasping my small, pale, cold hand in one of his big warm ones. I give a startled jump.
“Of course I was attracted to you. Right away,” he recalls. “You’re really hot.”
I shrug. “I know.”
“But, not gonna lie, I was still hung up on Siobhan. I needed a little time to come around. To open myself up to the idea of...well, not just dating someone else, but really falling for them. Because, despite the walls you put up, and the whole tough-as-nails goth thing you have going on, I think you’re actually a sweet person inside.”
“Right.” Tearing my hand out of his, I cross my arms. “I’m a regular marshmallow.”
“I mean you’re a good person. One who’s loyal to her family and friends. Someone who doesn’t love easily, but when she does, loves with her whole heart. Even then, I could see myself falling for a woman like you.” The admission sounds almost wistful. “But Siobhan put me through the emotional wringer. I needed time to process. Not every guy jumps into a new relationship dick first.”
Ha. Like I’d ever believe that. “Don’t think that because I’m doing this one nice thing for Victoria I’m a good person. I’m not. I seduced you to get what I want. That’s why I mostly do anything: to get my way. And occasionally, like today, I decide not to be a selfish bitch. It’s the exception, not the rule. Got it?”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, but he manages to answer seriously, “Got it.”
We take the next exit, hitting our first red light for miles. There’s a gas station to our left, several fast food chains on our right. Up ahead, I see some brick houses with slanted black roofs. A white sign on the side of the road says Welcome to Laurel in fancy, loopy black letters. Someone has planted red and orange fall flowers around the base. How quaint.
In minutes, we’re pulling up in front of a two-story, red brick house, complete with the prototypical neat, green lawn and white picket fence. As I hop down from the truck, unease shudders through me. I glance around the neighborhood but, except for the fact every house on this block looks pretty much the same, don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Still, I have that damn, unsettled feeling again of being watched.
“You okay?” Jimmy calls over. He slams the driver’s side door closed.
“Yeah.” Sighing, I shut my own door, deciding to ignore the feeling, at least for now. Our second encounter with Rodriguez has left me paranoid.
In full-blown Princess Blondie mode, I walk around the side of the truck to join him. “Let’s go meet the parents,” I say with a grin.
Chapter 8
“Can’t read my poker face”
2:15 p.m.
Jimmy’s parents’ house
“James, meu filhinho! What a wonderful surprise.”
“Hey, Mom.” As Jimmy lets his mother gather him into a big hug, I stifle a laugh. James. Ha. I know Jimmy is a nickname, but for some reason I have a hard time thinking of him as James. It’s too formal for a guy wearing torn jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt he told me he’s had since high school.
“Wh
at is this?” Pulling out of the embrace, Mrs. Wallace clasps both of Jimmy’s upper arms, squeezing. “You are so thin. Skin and bones. You’re not eating enough!”
“Mom.” A faint red blush creeps up his neck. “I’m fine. All I do is eat. Trust me.”
Mrs. Wallace laughs. She’s quite lovely, for a human, with tumbling, black hair shot through with silver and large, dark eyes. Her complexion is smooth and golden, like toffee. Except for some creases around the mouth and crow’s feet crinkling the corners of her eyes, she looks great for her age. Man, getting old must suck. I’m glad Olympians don’t age that quickly.
“Well, I would certainly hope so,” she continues, patting him on the back. “I gave your sister all of Vovó’s recipes with the hope they’d be put to good use.”
“Yep,” Jimmy agrees, kicking off his shoes. “I’ve been putting them to good use. Anna barely knows the difference between a spatula and a ladle. You know that.”
“Well, your sister’s no domestic goddess, but that’s a bit harsh.” Smiling, Jimmy’s mother turns to me. “And Siobhan,” she says, arms locking around me like a straightjacket, “it’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.”
“It’s, uh, good to see you, too,” I tell her, squirming a little. Although it might be cutting off my circulation, the hug is nice, all reassuring and motherly. She smells good, too, trace amounts of a lavender and citrus-scented shampoo lingering in her hair. “You look great, Mrs. W.”
“Please. You know you can call me Gabby.” She releases me suddenly. I stumble backwards, trying to cover it up with an awkward curtsy and an equally as awkward smile. “And it’s so good to see you two together again.” Gabby clasps her hands as if in prayer, her red lips smiling. “Friends since childhood. It truly warms my heart.”
“Mine, too.” Smirking, I glance at Jimmy. “I feel so thankful to have a friend like James.” Jimmy makes a choking sound, shooting me a warning look. His mother has already turned her back to us and bustles about the living room, straightening out some stray magazines and papers on a glass coffee table.