Devilish

by Maureen Johnson

  We looked out at the dance floor, where Allison was pushing Elton through a line dance.

  “It’s almost hard to watch,” she said. “I admit it. I can undo it all, though. I can turn him right back to you. I can give you everything you want. Look at my lovely friends. Powerful bankers and politicians. Musicians. Painters. Writers. Inventors. These are the people you belong with, Jane. I’ll give you a real deal—not like the one I gave Allison. We have lots of places for someone like you back at home. See, home is a lot like high school—the smart, the popular, the powerful thrive. Having the right friends gets you everywhere.”

  “God, you make it sound so tempting, Lanalee,” I said. “Eternal high school. Sign me up.”

  “Don’t get snooty and righteous. Don’t turn down something you haven’t really felt. You got a tiny, tiny taste of it. You have no idea what I can give you. No idea. Come on, Jane. Don’t be an idiot.”

  “So, what are you suggesting?”

  “Say you’ll come with me now and there’s no bottle for you. At midnight, I’ll give you everything you could possibly want. We’ll leave! We’ll go to the airport and get on a plane. Where do you feel like going? London? Rome? Tokyo? We’re there. We’ll check into a five-star hotel, have them send up lobsters and champagne and piles of cake and we’ll do this right. Just stop this sad little effort. You can’t win.”

  This was it—the knife’s edge. I was hers anyway. We had no plan. I had no hope. If I went along with her, I’d at least get something out of the deal.

  I remembered Sister Charles’s words … give it all away, but hold on to your soul. Right now, it was hard. But there was a reality in that, a reality in Owen and Brother Frank, that I didn’t see in this room.

  “Can I have that cupcake?” I asked.

  “Of course!”

  She handed it over.

  “You do have good cupcakes,” I said, examining the high, creamy frosting.

  “I only buy the best, sweetheart.”

  “There’s one thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “Not everything can be bought.”

  With that, I jammed the thing into her face and walked across the room suddenly silent room and out the door into the hallway. If I was going down, I was going down like that. Like Jane Jarvis. I had a reputation to uphold, after all.

  thirty-six

  Elton was just outside in the hallway. I walked smack into him. He blinked as I stumbled back and then stared into a small plastic bag of candy he was holding. He didn’t bolt. He didn’t even look the slightest bit startled. If anything, he seemed exhausted, as if he wanted to slide right down the wall and go to sleep. I reached my hand up to my throat and gave it a gentle squeeze, reminding myself to speak.

  “Is that the good stuff?” I asked, nodding at the bag. “Or is it hard candies and crap?”

  “Good stuff,” he said. “All chocolate. Is something wrong with your throat?”

  I released myself from the choke hold, which had gotten tighter than I realized. Only I would strangle myself to death by accident.

  “Some interesting people in there,” I said.

  “Very.”

  “Having fun?”

  “No,” he said plainly. “I kind of hate it. I have no idea why. It’s exotic. There’s exciting people in there. Food’s amazing. But it just feels like the worst night of my life. I want to get out of here, but I can’t just leave.”

  That was my Elton. He was demon proof.

  “I guess you’re pretty surprised that I’m working here, huh?”

  “Not really,” he said. “You don’t exactly leave things alone. So, no. I’m not surprised you found a way in. Guess you had to see what it was all about?”

  “You know me,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I do.”

  He adjusted his shirt for a moment, and I tried not to stare at the waistband of his boxers.

  “Ally really did threaten to kill herself, didn’t she?” he asked.

  Yes, yes, yes. This was the Elton I remembered. Perceptive. Relaxed. Hair half flopping, half spiking, peering over the top of his round glasses with that look he always used to give me before …

  I refocused myself.

  “Yes,” I said. “She did.”

  He exhaled deeply and drove his hands into his pockets.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I sort of knew it all along.”

  “It must have sounded insane,” I said quietly.

  “I should have believed you. I should have known you wouldn’t lie about something like that. It was too much to believe. But this … this is strange.”

  A door was opening. Not a literal door. The door to the ballroom remained solidly closed. I mean a door into a conversation with Elton. He may not have understood what was happening around us—no one would—but he understood that something was radically, totally wrong.

  “Well, I can kind of understand,” I said slowly. “I mean, you haven’t spoken to me in six months, and that was the first thing we end up talking about.”

  “You stopped talking to me,” he said.

  This threw me a bit.

  “I don’t want to argue with you about this, but—”

  “I wasn’t going to bother you if I thought it was too hard for you,” he cut in. “So I figured you didn’t want to talk. But I would have. I thought that you were mad and that I should leave you alone.”

  “For six months?” I shook my head.

  “I thought it would be easier,” he said tiredly.

  “You thought wrong. You said you wanted to be friends.”

  “We were friends,” he said. “I guess that was the problem. That was the reason for the whole thing.”

  “Being friends with someone is not a reason to break up with them,” I said.

  “It is when you realize that’s all you ever will be.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You were already getting serious. And I was worried. If we broke up after being serious, then that would be really bad. We’d both be hurt.”

  He slumped. His whole body wrinkled from the utter weakness of his reason. It was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard, but he appeared to mean it. He broke up with me to spare my feelings.

  It all became clear: when things got hard, Elton buckled. When things got serious with Ally, he just went with the easiest solution at hand. He assumed I was lying. Elton was a nice guy, but ultimately, he wasn’t there when you needed him. That was the truth. That was the reality. And this was maybe the only time, ever, that it didn’t really matter to me.

  In that second, I was released. I felt all that heartache, all that obsessive wondering and lust and loss leave me. My mind was clear. His entire explanation was just a detail at this point, and details were irrelevant. I had a job to do, and the clock was ticking.

  “Tell you what,” I said. “You can make it up to me.”

  “How?”

  “Kiss me once. Now. And we’ll call it even. Friends again.”

  He pulled himself from the wall and looked out at the sky. The full moon was glaring at us like a big, unblinking eye.

  He stepped closer. Right up to me.

  “Jane …” he said.

  I could feel the heat from his body. (The suit and the dancing had obviously made him warm. Really warm. Obviously sweaty warm. Had he always been this sweaty?) He didn’t bend down and gently put his lips to mine. Instead, he pushed the small plastic bag into my hands.

  “Here,” he said. “Allison asked me to give this to you. She didn’t think you’d get any candy because you were working. I’m here with Ally, and I … I don’t do that. I don’t want to do that. Okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said sadly. “I know you.”

  I was going to hell because my ex-boyfriend was a decent, kind of lame guy. It was almost funny. Almost.

  “I’m glad we talked,” he said.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “I’ll see you ar
ound, okay?” he said. “Really. But now, I think I have to go and get some air. I can’t handle any more of those dances for a few minutes.”

  He headed for the elevator, which opened for him graciously the moment he pushed the button. He leaned against the brass plates on the back wall and looked at me as the door closed, smiling lightly. There was a soft bong, the doors closed, and that was that.

  I opened the bag and looked at my candy.

  “Thanks,” I said, to no one.

  That’s when the owl smashed in through the window.

  thirty-seven

  The owl perched on a coatrack and had a look around, turning its little owl head from side to side curiously. It didn’t look even mildly disturbed by the fact that it had just shattered a huge pane of glass. Not a feather was out of place. It looked at me purposefully.

  “They really use owls?” I asked. “God, she’s so bad at this. No imagination.”

  It was strange, but I was suddenly feeling a little loose, kind of happy. When you pass the point of trying and enter the zone of not a chance, the pressure eases. I was going to hell in fifteen minutes. But these fifteen minutes were mine.

  Lanalee emerged from the ballroom with Allison in tow. She had recovered from my attack, though her eye makeup was a bit smudged. She walked right past me with a stiff, deliberate stride and over to the bird. She extended her arm, and the bird waddled down to the end of the rack, then hopped down to her.

  “We can’t rely on clocks,” she said. “When the time comes, there’s always a messenger. This is Pazuzu. Say hi.”

  “Hi,” I said dully. “How’s it going?”

  The owl winked hard, then fixed his eyes on me.

  “Owls are great,” she said, stroking the bird’s head. “Some of them are big enough to eat house cats. Did you know that?”

  Allison appeared behind her.

  “You too,” Lanalee said. “Come on.”

  I guess I could have run, but I knew that would have made no difference at all. I could feel this knowledge deep down, running through my veins. All my extremities, in fact, were starting to burn and ache.

  We followed her into a dank industrial stairwell that led to a heavy fire door. Then we were on the roof, right by the big neon letters that spelled out the name of the Biltmore.

  “Well,” Lanalee said. “I guess it’s time to get things started!”

  There was a strange brightness in the sky. The moon was heavy and orange, looking like a ripe fruit that was about to fall and splatter everywhere. Pazuzu flew over and settled himself on a pipe, ready for the show.

  “You should finish your candy, Jane,” she said sympathetically. “Never let it be said that I don’t let people have their candy before I suck them dry of every shred of life and energy.”

  She sat down on a vent, opened her purse, removed a lipstick, and methodically applied it without a mirror, gazing at me the whole time with her lips wide in that strange lipstick-application O shape. Allison stood in the doorway, arms folded, shivering in the cold. It was impossible to read her expression. It was a mix of her creeping blue-gray nausea face and a blank, empty stare.

  I took another look at my candy. It was actually a pretty good selection of mini–candy bars—the most valuable kind of Halloween candy. It was nice of Allison to think of me, but it didn’t really make up for the eternal damnation I was about to face.

  But then there was an echo in my head.

  I looked inside again. Candy. Candy in shiny, happy wrappers. I shook the bag a little.

  “This is a very simple procedure,” Lanalee said. “But why be simple? We need to dress this up a little. Good lighting is crucial.”

  She dropped her lipstick back into her bag, then reached up and pulled out a silver clip that suspended her rust-colored hair. It dropped down her back, almost a yard of it, in one solid hair tsunami. Then she raised her hands high above her head, in the direction of the giant neon Biltmore sign.

  “Lights!” she screamed.

  The B and the T on the Biltmore sign buzzed and lost their power. Right above the sign, a thin rail of white lightning appeared. It squiggled a bit, as if the energy was surprised by its own freedom and excited not to be bending in the shape of a B and a T. Then it looped around, buzzed Pazuzu, and headed right for Lanalee. Despite this show, I still had one eye on the candy—my last possession, my last joy. Last, last, last. This was the end. And then I noticed something.

  At the bottom, under a pile of Mr. Goodbars, was a single silver drop. It was a kiss. Hershey’s Kiss. This was a kiss, given to me, by Elton.

  This could not be possible. This would not work. But it was no time to comment on the quality of the idea. I had no other options.

  “Hey,” I said. “Um, Lanalee?”

  Lanalee turned just as a pencil-thin crack of lightning landed in her upturned palm. She brushed it off her hand and blew on the spot.

  “Ow! What?”

  I held up the Kiss.

  “Go on,” she said, looking annoyed. “Eat it. But could you not interrupt? This is actually kind of hard.”

  “It’s a kiss, Lanalee. Elton gave it to me.”

  The white line of light retracted like a measuring tape and the B and T were once again illuminated. Lanalee stomped over and pinched the candy from my hand. She held it right in front of her eyes and squinted at the silver wrapper as closely as a jeweler examines a diamond.

  Then she looked at a spot just over my shoulder.

  “What is this?” she said. “You broke the rules. You interfered. I know you did. And this is not amusing.”

  I turned to see Owen in the doorway, just behind Allison. He held up his hands in denial.

  “No, he didn’t,” Allison said, stepping forward. “I did.”

  For the first time, Lanalee was truly speechless. Silence. The B and T, overloaded and confused by the power loss and surge, made a sizzling sound and went dark with a pop, taking the M and the O with them. This left us in near darkness. The moon seemed to grow larger. Allison stepped in from the doorway and stood between Lanalee and me.

  “This was my fault,” she said to me. “You were in trouble because of me. So I fixed it.”

  “Fixed it?” Lanalee said, wheeling around on her. “What do you mean, fixed it?”

  “I played you,” Ally said, raising her head high. “I gave Elton the kiss and I told him to give it to Jane.”

  “Ally …” I said.

  But Ally wasn’t done. She was digging her grave, but she was doing it proudly. She was taking a final stand.

  “I knew you were using me to get to Jane,” she said. “So I came back and asked you for another deal. I convinced you that I’d turn on Jane for you, make sure she went down. I set the whole thing up to make sure I lost. And now, you lose.”

  The E crackled threateningly. It sounded like it was preparing to join its fellow defecting letters.

  “See?” Ally said to me. “I’m not so dumb.”

  “I never thought you were dumb,” I said quietly.

  “I did, for a long time. I thought I was weak and pathetic. But I can stand up to her.”

  She indicated Lanalee with a quick jerk of her shiny red head.

  “And I would never do that to you,” she added, her voice breaking. I felt my eyes fill with tears. We started toward each other, but Lanalee inserted herself between us.

  “Well, well,” she said grimly. “This is a bit of a surprise. But I don’t lose, sweetheart. I just get a second-rate prize. I’ll take it anyway. And I don’t feel like entertaining anyone anymore. Time to go.”

  “Go where?” I asked.

  “Go. Out of here.” She waved her hand around, indicating all of the city and anything beyond.

  “Go?” I repeated dumbly.

  Owen was grimly watching this scene unfold, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Do something,” I said weakly. “Come on. Do something.”

  “Sorry,” he said. And he really did seem sorry. “I
t’s just the way it is. I don’t have any say. The contract is valid.”

  Allison looked at him fearfully. He put his arm around her and gently led her to Lanalee, then came and stood by me.

  “I have to do something,” I said.

  “You tried.”

  “And I failed.”

  “Look,” he said. “The rules are the rules. It’s too late.”

  “Sister Charles said it’s never too late.”

  Owen repositioned himself so that his back was to Lanalee and leaned down so that he was level with my eyes. His, I noticed, were a brilliant dollar-bill green.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “It’s important that you make your own choices. There are rules. Remember, she has to follow the rules too.”

  He hammered that word each time.

  “Rules?” I repeated.

  “It’s time,” Lanalee interrupted, taking Allison by the hand. Owen and I split apart a bit, but I kept hold of one of his hands. I looked in horror at the bottle, which Lanalee was holding. She noticed this and laughed.

  “I’m not really going to put her in there,” she said. “That was a joke. I just collect bottles. Here. You can have this one.”

  She tossed me the bottle.

  “You might as well come with us,” Lanalee said to Owen. “We can share a cab.”

  “I guess,” he said reluctantly.

  Allison slumped at the knees, so he hooked his arm through Allison’s free arm to help support her.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, my voice weak.

  “Jane,” he said, “remember what I just said, okay?”

  Together, they went to the roof’s edge. Allison made no sound. She could just about walk.

  I knew in that second what they were going to do, and I almost wanted to reach out for them—grab them—but I didn’t.

  The two of them jumped off the roof of the hotel, taking Allison with them.

  thirty-eight

  The triple suicide of Owen Penderman, Allison Concord, and Lanalee Tremone was the kind of thing that would rock the city of Providence, Rhode Island. Schools would close. Busloads of counselors would be carted in. Prozac would be covered in chocolate and handed out at street corners. The Biltmore would be wrapped in black cloth.