by Paige Toon
‘What does it matter?’ I exclaim, my blush deepening under her scrutiny.
‘It matters,’ she replies with a smirk, and then, thankfully, the waitress returns with my latte.
‘It’s so strange to be back,’ I say, looking around.
‘Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,’ Agnes says. ‘Jack almost came with me today.’
I nearly choke on my drink. ‘Did he?’ I manage to ask between coughs.
‘He missed you when you left.’
‘That’s what you said last time. Wasn’t it: “He was bummed when you left” or something like that?’
‘More or less.’
‘Well, he didn’t bother to reply to my email. Anyway!’ I cry. ‘What does it matter? He’s not boyfriend material, and he’s on the other side of the Atlantic.’
‘Not any more,’ Agnes says with satisfaction. I get the distinct feeling that she’s enjoying herself.
‘Well, I have a boyfriend now, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.’
‘Even though he’s now the one on the other side of the Atlantic?’ she enquires sweetly.
‘He won’t be for long. I’ll be going home soon.’
‘How do you see that panning out?’ she asks. ‘What’s the point of going back? Life won’t be as you left it. You’ll have to go to private school; you won’t be able to stay in your house. Everything’s going to change.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ I mumble.
‘Why don’t you just stay in LA?’ she asks. ‘You know, move here. Permanently. You could come to school with me!’ she exclaims, her look of glee faltering when she sees my face. ‘Or not,’ she adds, reaching for her coffee and freezing in mid-air. ‘Oh, God, I meant to tell you! Lottie’s having a Halloween party next weekend. You’ve got to come! We’ll go shopping for an outfit together. Can we?’ she asks when I don’t answer.
‘Sure,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Why not?’
‘Great! What are you doing tomorrow?’
Chapter 19
It’s the following weekend and, as Johnny won’t let me go anywhere without Davey or Lewis or both, we’ve swung by to pick up Agnes.
Meg took me aside earlier and gently encouraged me to indulge Johnny until he gets over the kidnapping scare. But I hope he chills out soon. There’s only so much babysitting that I’m going to be able to take.
‘Oh my God, you look amazing!’ Agnes cries, climbing into the limo beside me.
‘So do you!’ I give her a kiss, being careful not to get my blood-red lipstick all over her.
We’ve seen each other’s outfits already – we went shopping for them together, after all – but now our hair and make-up are done and we look properly scary. And hopefully a little sexy, too. At least, that was the plan. She’s dressed as a witch, in a black sequinned bustier and flared miniskirt, with dark make-up, messy blue-black hair extensions and a sparkly hat. I’m the Bride of Dracula, in a shredded white lace wedding dress, my blonde hair backcombed all over the place, my eye make-up muted, but my lipstick making up for it.
‘Is… Is Jack coming? Does he need a lift?’ I dare to ask, stuttering slightly, despite my attempts to sound cool and unbothered. Dammit.
‘No, he’s meeting us there.’
My heart falls at her no, but skips at the second part of her sentence. I shouldn’t care if he’s going or not.
We all live up in the hills, so it doesn’t take long to get to Lottie’s house. Davey drives us in through the back entrance and I’m surprised to see that all of the mansion lights are off. It looks deserted, but Lottie lives in a log cabin guesthouse in the garden and I can hear the music pounding through the limo doors as we approach. The mansion probably has twenty bedrooms, but Lottie still finds it cramped, thanks to her dislike of her dad’s most recent wife.
Johnny has deemed the security at the Tremway mansion sufficient, so Lewis doesn’t have to babysit me tonight. Davey promises to come back for me as soon as I call him and reminds me of my midnight curfew. I’ve only just got over my jet lag so I think I can just about cope with that.
Agnes hooks her arm through mine and, as Davey’s headlights turn away from us, our eyes adjust to the darkness.
Agnes said Lottie’s Halloween parties were not to be missed. She wasn’t lying.
The log cabin is lit only by the light of hundreds of candles and a multitude of red lanterns hanging from the branches of the surrounding trees. There are dozens of pumpkin lanterns lining our path and resting on every visible surface, all carved with gruesome faces. I can’t even imagine how much time it took to do them – the house staff have probably been working on them all week. I bet there was a professional party planner involved. Fake cobwebs drift down from the trees and I can see the shadowy shapes of spiders set within them. The whole effect is spooky and very, very cool.
There must be about thirty or forty people here already, but I don’t recognise anyone, not helped by the fact that they’re all in fancy dress. Suddenly a girl comes over, her face hidden in the darkness behind a red hood glittering with sequins.
‘Hey!’ Agnes addresses Little Red Riding Hood with delight. A moment later I realise that underneath the hood is teen star and host, Charlotte Tremway.
They hug and gush a few compliments before Agnes indicates me.
‘Jessie!’ Lottie exclaims. ‘Agnes told me you were back.’
‘Yeah,’ I say with a small shrug, although I’m pleased with her happy reaction to seeing me.
‘Come get a drink!’
A bar has been set up on the deck outside the cabin and there’s a hot, goth-like barman mixing cocktails and pouring drinks. Cut-glass bowls full of red punch sparkle on the surface, lit from within with glowing, plastic ice cubes in the shape of eyeballs.
Lottie pokes her head between ours. ‘The punch is amazing,’ she drawls.
‘How amazing?’ Agnes asks meaningfully.
‘Pretty amazing, but it will get more amazing as the night wears on,’ she says with a sly smile. ‘Although I’ve got to be careful. Colleen will have me arrested, given half a chance.’
Colleen is her stepmother.
There are DJ decks set up on the other side of the cabin and loud music is blaring out of the speakers. I take a sip of my drink – yum – and look around. Some of the costumes defy belief. One girl is dressed up like a comic-book character with bright orange hair and black spots dotted all over her face to make it look as though she’s been pixelated. There are the usual mummies, ghouls and superheroes, but everyone has gone to such an effort. Then again, I suppose they have the money to pay for it, I think to myself.
I recognise a few people from the last time I was here, but, unfortunately, the one person I don’t want to see is Lissa, a girl who has always been a total bitch to me. But there she is, looking more like a stripogram than Britney Spears, in high black patent boots and a low-cut top, her boobs pushed to the limits. Lissa’s eyes land on me and I hold her gaze, fighting the urge to run away. A moment later she comes over.
‘So the rumours are true,’ she says with what is more of a sneer than a smile. ‘You’re back.’
‘Be nice,’ Lottie warns.
‘I’ll be nice,’ she replies, straight-faced. ‘I heard what happened.’
‘You were so lucky,’ Lottie chips in breathily.
I flinch as the memory of it comes back to me. The two men in the front of the van… Their angry, determined faces… Sam falling to the ground…
‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ Agnes chips in.
I’d certainly rather not. Agnes and I got papped when we were out shopping for costumes. I thought maybe the photographer had mistaken me for someone else, until he started speaking.
‘Hey, Jessie! How are you feeling after the kidnapping attempt? What’s it like staying with your famous dad?’
Luckily Lewis fended him off. I’m still hoping all the kidnap stuff will blow over and they’ll leave me alone…
‘Jessie Jeffe
rson?’ I hear a male voice call and turn to see Fred from Scooby-Doo coming towards me, all tall, blond and buff.
‘Peter?’ I ask with surprised delight, welcoming a chance to move away from Lissa. I met him in the summer – he’s an actor and plays Lottie’s character’s long-lost brother on Little Miss Mulholland.
‘Hey!’ he says, sweeping me up in a hug. ‘I heard you were coming back!’ Then his grin fades. ‘Man, I also heard what happened.’
I stifle a sigh. I think I’m going to get a lot of this tonight.
When Jack arrives half an hour later, I recognise him instantly, despite his disguise, and my heart skips a beat. He and his bandmates, Brandon and Miles, have come as vampires and they look like something out of The Lost Boys: messy hair, pale faces, guyliner and fake blood trailing down from their lips. They’re wearing all black: skinny jeans and tight-fitting shirts. Brandon, who’s as tall and slim as Jack, and who normally wears his blond hair in a slick quiff, is wearing a leather jacket. Miles, who’s shorter and slightly stockier, still has the tips of his black hair dyed orange and is wearing a long-sleeved shirt, open at the neck.
And then there’s Jack. He’s had a haircut and it’s now very short behind, but longer on top. It’s wavy and messy, a few dark tendrils falling down across his forehead.
Brandon is carrying a DJ bag and goes straight over to the guy behind the decks. Jack scrapes his hair out of his face and my eyes fall on his slim wrist encircled with several leather straps, and the comic-book-style POW! tattoo on his forearm. I see him notice the girl dressed as a comic-book character and his eyes skim over her with appreciation. I knew he’d like her costume. I hope he doesn’t like her, too. But why should I care? I shouldn’t.
And then his eyes are on mine and everything freezes. A moment later I gather my wits and nod a hello as crowds of people pass between us. He makes his way towards me and I’m aware of my heart quickening and my body tensing. My knuckles are white as I grip my punch glass and I’m vaguely conscious of Agnes relaying a story to Lottie that I really should be paying attention to.
‘Hi,’ he says, looking down at me, his blue-grey eyes seeming darker than usual.
Before I can reply, Lottie has her arms round him and is hugging him hello. Miles and Brandon join us and she breaks away from Jack as Brandon slides her hood off her head and kisses her cheek. She grins and touches the trail of fake blood running down from one side of his lips.
‘Don’t get me all bloody,’ she warns.
‘People are Strange’ – one of the songs from the The Lost Boys soundtrack – starts to play out of the speakers. Miles looks over his shoulder and salutes the DJ with amusement before heading to the bar with Agnes.
‘Is that Morgan?’ I ask Jack, nodding towards the guy behind the decks.
‘Yeah,’ he says, glancing back at me.
‘Are you playing a set later?’ Such an ordinary conversation for such extraordinary circumstances. The last time I saw him he was teasingly singing about kissing me.
Tom, Tom, Tom, I chant inside my head.
He nods, casting his gaze over my outfit. ‘You look cool.’
‘Thanks. So do you.’ I try to ignore the thrill I feel when he compliments me.
Lottie and Brandon are standing off to one side, flirting and talking, their heads close together.
I wonder if Agnes has told Jack that I have a boyfriend.
‘Oh, wow,’ Lissa interrupts with a nasty smile, materialising beside us. ‘Bride of Dracula and Dracula?’ She lets out a horrid little hoot of laughter.
‘Nice to see you, too, Lissa,’ Jack replies coolly.
‘Did you guys go shopping for your costumes together?’ she asks. ‘Or did fate intervene?’
Fate or Agnes, I think to myself. Did she know her brother was coming as a vampire when she encouraged me to buy this dress? I glance over my shoulder, wondering where on earth she is with our drinks.
‘I don’t suppose a guy like you would care that she has a boyfriend,’ Lissa continues.
Oh, here we go…
‘Here you go,’ Agnes interrupts. ‘Sorry, Lissa, I didn’t get you one,’ she says, before leaning past her to hand out glasses and, in doing so, forcing Lissa to step back. Agnes closes the gap in our circle, excluding her from the group.
‘Cheers!’ Agnes says, prompting us to all chink glasses. A moment later I’m aware of Lissa stalking off.
‘Was she being a bitch again?’ Lottie asks, finally dragging her attention away from Brandon to notice what’s going on.
‘No more than usual,’ Agnes replies flippantly. ‘I don’t know why you keep inviting her to these things,’ she adds.
‘Yeah, you do,’ Lottie replies with a pointed look before turning back to Brandon.
I raise my eyebrows at Agnes. ‘They’ve known each other all their lives,’ she explains with a shrug. ‘They’re practically related. Not that that’s any excuse to behave like a total bitch.’
‘She wasn’t being that bad,’ I feel compelled to say.
‘Have you forgotten that she sold you out to the press?’ Agnes asks.
I could never forget that. It was when I was last here and the news had just broken about Johnny having a fifteen-year-old daughter. The press didn’t know who I was yet, but Lissa called them and told them that I was at Lottie’s house, so they tailed me home to try to snatch a picture. I was with Agnes and Jack, and I still remember the feeling of Jack’s arms around me in the back seat, hiding me, protecting me, while his sister drove us home… I remember it a little too well unfortunately.
‘Selling me out to the press seems to be all the rage these days,’ I reply to Agnes, and I can’t keep the trace of bitterness from my voice.
‘I meant to ask you about that,’ Agnes says with concern. ‘Who blew your cover?’
I fill her in about Libby and Amanda. Her lips turn down in sympathy and then Miles asks her something and I turn away, downing half my drink.
‘How’s the punch?’ Jack asks.
‘Nice,’ I reply. ‘But not very spiky.’
‘All the better for drinking more of it, my dear,’ he says in a low voice.
‘Was that supposed to be the Big Bad Wolf?’ I ask, laughing. ‘You’re talking to the wrong person.’ I nod at Lottie in her Red Riding Hood outfit.
‘She looks pretty happy with who she’s talking to,’ he replies, as Lottie cracks up at something Brandon has said.
Jack hooks one of his thumbs in his jeans pocket. He’s wearing a studded black belt, but his jeans would sit perfectly on his hips regardless. I spot black ink underneath the leather straps on his wrist and grab his arm to scrutinise it.
‘You got another tattoo,’ I say.
‘Yeah.’ He moves the straps aside to show me. The black ink looks like a bracelet circling his wrist.
‘It’s cool, I like it,’ I semi-shout above the music.
He stares down at me, raising one eyebrow. ‘So, boyfriend, huh?’
I drop his hand like a hot potato.
‘You kept that quiet in your texts,’ he says offhandedly. ‘Agnes mentioned it.’
I shrug. ‘His name’s Tom.’
‘Serious?’
I shrug again, aware that I’m being unacceptably evasive. ‘Yes,’ I say, finally injecting some authority into my voice. ‘We’ve been going out for a few weeks.’
He shakes his head. ‘That’s not serious.’ He sounds dismissive.
‘That depends on how you define the word,’ I say crossly. ‘I doubt you’ve ever had a serious girlfriend.’
To my surprise, he doesn’t argue. Instead he grins and rakes his hand through his hair, fixing his attention on the other partygoers.
I take another sip of my drink and watch him furtively. The red lanterns are reflected in his eyes.
‘How are things going with the band?’ I change the subject. ‘Is Eve still talking about quitting?’
‘She quit,’ he replies, glancing back at me.
�
�No! When?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Shit! What are you going to do?’
He smiles a little, clearly amused by my reaction.
‘Get someone else,’ he says.
‘How?’
‘Audition.’
‘Wow. And what about Little Miss Mulholland?’
‘Yeah, what about Little Miss Mulholland?’ Jack asks loudly for Lottie’s benefit. Her head whips round. ‘Jessie’s asking when we’re going on your show.’ He’s teasing her.
‘Well, it was looking pretty good,’ she responds. ‘But now that Eve’s quit…’
‘Eve Shmeve, we’ll find someone else,’ Brandon chips in, placing his hand on Lottie’s shoulder. ‘Can you sing?’ he asks her.
‘No.’ She laughs. ‘But nice try.’
‘Dude, your set’s up,’ Miles says suddenly, nudging Jack. They both look over at Morgan on the decks.
‘OK, sure,’ Jack says. He glances at me as if to say something, but seems to think better of it. ‘Catch you later,’ he says, half over his shoulder.
I watch him walk away. Was he going to ask me to join him at the decks? The last time I did that was the first night we kissed.
My heart hurts slightly at the thought that it’s over between us – whatever it was that we had.
I turn back to see Agnes studying me.
‘Definitely still like him,’ she says with satisfaction.
‘No, I don’t,’ I reply with nowhere near enough conviction.
‘He was annoyed you didn’t tell him about Tom.’
‘Was he? He didn’t seem annoyed just now.’
‘He was,’ she says.
‘Would you stop stirring things?’ I snap, half amused and half irritated. ‘Look at him, he doesn’t care in the slightest.’
He’s stopped to talk to Comic Book Girl, but my nonchalant comment masks the contracting of my stomach. His lips are close to her ear and his hand is resting on her arm.
‘That’s just Jack,’ Agnes replies, nonplussed. ‘He’s always been tactile.’
‘Is that what you call it?’ I say wryly, then realise I’d better make a concerted effort from here on in not to give Agnes any ideas that I’m still interested in her brother.