My phone bleats again. Also, I’m in the mood for a deep tissue massage—giving and getting. Hot candle wax and clothing are optional. Biting however is required.
I give a tiny smile. I can practically see the dirty grin on his face. Typical.
I pluck an orange sweater off the counter in my size and hand it to the woman who gets paid to be my shadow. Oddly, the color alone reminds me of Kresley, a bad omen in and of itself, so I take it back and give a curt smile.
“Laken.” Mom’s eyes bulge with mortification as though I had just shoved unpaid merchandise into my purse.
“Sorry, I’m just frustrated. I can’t find anything.”
“Junior’s department.” Mom speaks to the woman at my side and hands her a list of my various sizes. “Enough for two weeks,” she instructs. She turns back and presses out a smile with those familiar lips. I’ve seen them a thousand times before when looking in the mirror. She has the same small M that crests over her top lip. “You should have clothes by morning.” She spins on her heels toward Jen. “So…” Her voice vibrates through me. “How are you planning to dismantle this relationship you’ve been hanging onto for the last several years?”
Perhaps some sound advice from a self-described poverty porn addict will bring wisdom and resolution to the situation, although I’d settle for a restraining order.
Jen gives a quick look of irritation before plucking underwear out of a stock bin and throwing them into the air like confetti. A small army of personal shoppers gather behind her and snap them up like popcorn.
“I’m not breaking up with Blaine.” Jen pulls her lips in a line. “We’re working through this.”
“She’s delusional,” I say it mostly to myself.
My new unimproved mother sharpens her steel cut eyes over me. “Sometimes, Laken, it’s best to go along with the delusions that life has to offer. In the end it could be a lot less catastrophic.” Her words hold the promise of a thin-veiled threat.
I give a passive nod and fondle the phone in my hand as though it were Cooper himself. There’s only Cooper I can trust.
Accepting the delusions that this world has to offer would be like drinking down vinegar—vomit inducing, vile, altogether impossible in nature.
I’d bathe in gasoline and walk through a fire to pull myself out of this alternate universe.
Something tells me I just might have to.
52
Power Position
Wharton Hall is decorated with large silver stars outside its normally ivy-covered exterior. A red carpet has been rolled out in front, complete with brass posts that sport thick velvet ropes that usher the way inside.
“They totally don’t show R-rated movies here, like ever.” Carter is quick to defend Ephemeral’s questionable judgment.
One thing is clear, a lot of exceptions are being made in honor of Grayson’s spectacular movie debut—like the fact I’ve just been informed by an overzealous Flynn there will be full frontal nudity provided by Ephemeral’s most-prized daughter. I’m betting it lasts longer than any of her speaking parts combined. Although, I’m not surprised by this, I’m horrified that both Wes and Coop will be subject to her goliath mammary glands pressed against the big screen. This explains the slight bout of nausea I’ve experienced since learning of the birthday-suit extravaganza.
There’s a palpable buzz in the air, new clothes mingle with the scent of expensive perfume, and it overpowers the senses. I spot Kresley and Grayson near the front. They look every bit the glamour queens they profess to be. Beauty is their religion. They worship at the altar of me, myself, and I.
Kresley sports a short red dress, her well-tanned skin glows underneath. It begs you to take in her remarkable legs that stretch for miles. Grayson is wearing a flesh-toned sweater that pays homage to the qualities the movie studio liked best about her and a pair of skinny jeans that show off the rest of her curves.
Before I left the department store I managed to come to my senses and pick up something decent to wear to the premiere, an off the shoulder metallic grey sweater paired with the priciest jeans in the northern hemisphere. I’m not up on my jean couture, but I figured if I paid enough, I’d stumble into the right ones.
“Is Cooper around?” I ask, pecking my neck in five hundred directions at once.
“You sure you’re not seeing Coop?” Carter says it sultry as if there were real reasons for her to believe I was. There are, but that’s beside the point.
“I’m seeing Wes. Wes is the love of my life. I’m going to marry Wes and have an entire tribe of dark-haired boys with eyes the color of a spring meadow, and you’re going to envy me because you accidentally got stuck with my brother.”
Carter lets out a riotous laugh. “Speaking of his hotness.” She hops into me. “I think it’s bordering on official. Fletch said he’d go out with me.” She digs her nails into my sleeve like a vice.
“What about Jackson?” I look past her shoulder. He’s tucked in a corner talking to Jen, and they both look equally dejected.
“I broke it off with him.” She hitches her blond curls behind her ear. “He’s totally okay with it.” She looks past me and waves. I follow her gaze over to Fletch who happens to have scored a conversation with the D-list celebrity whose dishonor Ephemeral is busy exalting.
Carter zips off toward my brother who’s made the moronic fashion choice of wearing dark sunglasses at night. Carter’s the one who’s blind for abandoning a perfectly good Jackson for Fletcher. But, seriously, if she ever did marry my brother, I wonder if she’d wake up one morning and realize she made a horribly wrong decision? I can’t imagine how devastating it would be to wake up one day and realize you made a terrible mistake of both the conjugal and legal variety.
Cooper and Wes blink through my mind.
An arm encircles me from behind, and I wobble on my spiked heels.
A soft kiss lands on the side of my face revealing Wes in all his thunderous glory. The moon bleaches his hair with blue highlights and he holds the scent of aftershave and soap. There’s nothing in the world I love more than a fresh-scrubbed Wes.
“Hey you!” A female voice cuts me off before I can properly greet him. Kresley strides over in heels twice as tall as mine with her chest out and breasts at attention. She towers over us proud and erect like a sexed up giraffe. She licks her lips while fixated on Wes. “I want you to meet my new agent, the one I was telling you about.” She tilts her head in a silent plea as if she never tried to slaughter our love with her twisted lies.
Wes presses my back into his chest, using me like a human shield.
“Maybe later.” His breath sizzles down my neck, assuring me that all of the promise of later lies with me.
I bite down a smile as Kresley gives in defeat. You could see the blood boiling— the promise of revenge percolating in those pale eyes.
“Cooper’s here.” She looks right at me, hitches her thumb toward the dark mouth of the building with a gleam of delight. “I heard he was looking for you, Laken. He’s so interested in you. He says you fascinate him.” She sings the words like a song, like she wants me to believe she knows something, and she just might.
“He was hurt last night.” Wes is quick to inform her. He takes me by the hand and speeds us into the facility. Damn lucky he wasn’t killed—better luck next time.
I take a quick breath and pull my hand back pretending to dig something out of my purse. The thought of Wes even implying he wishes Cooper was dead is enough to set me off.
I’m suddenly very much regretting my newfound ability to read Wesley’s toxic mind.
Flynn takes a seat to my left and Wes to my right. The theater dims without me having exchanged a single glance with Cooper.
I watched from afar as Grayson all but introduced him to her parents as her boyfriend—as she offered him a seat sandwiched between her and her mother. This should go over well once the one-eyed girls go flying on screen, supersized no less.
Ms. Paxton takes the stage w
ith her hair neatly pulled back in a spectacularly tight bun. She’s just shaved off ten years from the inadvertent facelift her hairstyle affords.
Mr. Edinger inspects the crowd like a bouncer. He wears an understated grin as he pans the vicinity and stops dead when he zeros in on me. He offers a short-lived smile as if he were looking for me all along. There’s something evil about him. Wicked. My bones chill unnaturally each time he smothers me with his special brand of demented attention.
Flynn leans into me as Ms. Paxton drones on about what an honor it is to have such an esteemed actress in our midst. “My parents got the official F.U. from the queen bitch herself.”
“What?”
“They want all Casper’s shit cleared off campus—lockers… crap from her room.”
“I’m sorry.” I can’t believe they’d be that heartless. On second thought, I can. “So what’d they say?”
Flynn presses his lips directly into my ear. “They accused her of campus abandonment—grounds for expulsion. But if she were to return, they’d entertain the idea of reinstating her.”
“How very generous.”
Flynn raises a brow. His sad eyes linger over me as the theater darkens.
I lean back toward Wes and take up his hand.
“Everything okay?” he whispers it sweet.
I nod and relax into his shoulder. It feels good like this with Wes, safe in the dark.
“You look beautiful.” He seals the sentiment with a kiss.
Wes and his ebony splendor, those eyes that glow like jade. I can’t bear the thought of not having him, of losing him to whatever it is that’s eroding him from the inside.
He glances over at me as he settles in close. Wish she didn’t feel like she doesn’t have me. Wes looks right at me and pushes out a dry smile. I love you so damn much, Laken, with everything in me, always have. He brings my hand up and rolls it over his lips. I’m going to bring you back. Stop the erosion of whatever the hell it is that’s keeping you away from me.
I sink down in my seat, pull my hand free, and slip it over his knee, safely away from his roving thoughts, his stagnant idea of what’s become of me. His disbelief is beginning to overshadow everything we once stood for. I wish it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe me, that it was enough that he loved me. But it’s not.
A spotlight falls over Coop, bright as a halo, and my heart swells. This is all wrong. I can’t feel anything for him. I forbid myself from doing so.
The movie starts and drags on for miles. Each time Grayson makes a cameo, the theater erupts with whistles and howls. Her face stands out gargantuan and flawless even on such a magnified zoom.
Figures. You could enlarge Grayson to the size of the Empire State building, and men would still fall over themselves to have her. Maybe I should spend my energy rooting for her to win Coop’s heart. But the thought rises in the back of my throat like vomit. I’d rather eat vomit than root for Grayson and Coop as a couple.
I revert my attention to the movie and resist the urge to fall sleep. I’m no stranger to napping in theaters. Wes used to tease me and ask if I enjoyed my nap and popcorn.
The movie picks up speed. After a while, Agent Zero, a bald man with a fresh-shaven chest locks the door behind him, trapping her in his bedroom. In all fairness, it’s her fourth time on screen and she’s been relatively modest with the exception of the ever-present view of her cleavage. Then it happens. The camera pans in and her countenance lights up the room. She plucks her shirt over her head and yanks off her bra in one swift move—does a little dance as she wiggles free from its constraints.
I watch Coop as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Grayson leans into him with pride—so willing to evoke an erection out of him. It takes everything in me not to go over and smack her with her five-hundred-dollar purse.
Wes picks up my hand and bounces it on his lap. God—bet she smothers Coop to death with those things. At least he’ll die happy.
The scene pulls out for an eternity. Grayson’s face contorts in all kinds of questionably artificial positions.
I excuse myself from my seat, citing an incompetent bladder. In reality I should have cited incompetent acting or incompetent boob job since clearly her left nipple was off center. It was a wandering eye for Pete’s freaking sake. It made me dizzy just watching. I’ll puke if I’m forced to expose myself to the juvenile pornography for one more Grayson minute.
The cool of the foyer washes over me, the sky outside has settled a rich shade of sapphire.
“Hey.” A deep voice resonates from behind.
Cooper.
He gleams with a devilish delight—tucks his chin a notch and walks methodically toward me.
“You’re missing the best part,” I say, backing into a darkened corridor.
“This is the best part.” It comes out low, husky.
Cooper relaxes his hand against the wall, pinning me in by proxy. I can feel the heat, the energy stream off him like an oven.
“You wanted to say something?” I can feel it coming. His eyes magnetize to mine as he comes in for the kill.
It’s strangulating like this with Coop. For the first time since I can remember, everything feels unimaginably real. I trace the outline of his lips with trembling fingers.
“This is never going to work,” I breathe the words erratic.
“Laken,” he whispers. So much soul and sadness trapped in those vocal cords. “I’ve never felt like this about anybody before.”
I take a breath and hold it.
“I know you have feelings for Wes.” He interlaces our fingers. “But that was old Wes. He’s not the same person. Believe me, Laken, he’s everything you’re fighting against.”
There’s a heartfelt sorrow exuding from him.
I try to break my gaze, but I can’t look away from the sincerity in Cooper’s eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He presses his finger over my lips light as a feather before kissing the tip and returning it to my mouth. “Just know, I’m going to help you through this. I promise, I’ll bring you home, Laken. And to do that—” He looks away briefly. His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he gives a hard swallow. “I think its best I don’t get in your way with Wes.”
My heart drops.
I thought Cooper Flanders was going to say he loves me, that he can’t live without me, and that we should head to the nearest bush and rut like animals.
I let out a sigh and press in a chaste kiss just shy of his lips that would make Jen proud—well, maybe not in this case, but still, I’ve met her stringent requirements.
“I love you, Laken.” His eyes widen just a notch as though the admission came out unsupervised.
“You love me?” My voice breaks as I say it. I love Cooper. I don’t know why, but I do. It’s different than with Wes. Loving Cooper is like swimming in oxygen, and loving Wes is like fighting to breathe while drowning in a sea of mud. With Wes, it’s like our lives are being played out on the big screen. All of his feelings run according to the script, but there’s something fabricated about them. No matter how much you love the characters in a film and want them to be real—they’re still actors.
It’s Cooper who has my heart in the most meaningful way.
His eyes widen as he brings my hand to his lips.
“Thank you.” It comes out sad. Cooper smiles with his eyes as if my mental admission was all he would ever have to hear. “I need you safe, and I don’t think you’d be safe with me. I think Wes is key to getting you home, even if he doesn’t realize it. I can’t get you into the inner circle, but he’s a card carrying member.” His brows depress. “God, Laken, I would rearrange the universe to make you mine, I swear it.”
I hold a breath a moment too long. Cooper pushing me into Wesley’s arms is simply a way to save me. I wonder if Wes would do the same to save my sanity—hand me over to someone willing to believe me. Somehow I find this doubtful.
“I care about you too, Coop.” The words sing from me like a e
ulogy. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
He shakes his head. “Let’s get you safe, get my mom and Casper home. We can figure the rest out later. If Wes is the one that makes you happy, then that’s what I want for you.” He drills a petition into me by way of those diamond eyes, denying the words from his lips. “But we have something special, Laken, and I’ll be damned if I’m going down without a fight.”
A slow spreading smile buds on my lips, and I can’t hide it.
“We’d better get back.” I tick my head toward Grayson’s overexposure.
He wraps an arm around my waist as we make our way down the long corridor. Everything feels right in the world with Cooper by my side.
“You know what I was thinking?” Coop picks up my hand and rubs the inside of my palm. “We should hit a bush later and rut like animals.”
“Cooper!” I swat him in the chest.
I really do love Coop.
The affect washes from his face. “I know,” he whispers, pulling me in. He presses in a careful kiss high up on my cheek and sets everything in me on fire.
53
Spooky Hollow
The next night, Flynn collects what little remains of his sister’s belongings and places it in a giant black trash bag—nothing but paperbacks and few stray purses since the wardrobe magician ensured her things disappeared, too.
“I’ve got a storage locker. I guess I’ll keep it there.” He schleps a load of books and beauty supplies to the side. “Anything you want?” He offers. “I mean you didn’t really get to know her, but she was pretty nice once you did.”
“Oddly, I feel like I knew her best,” I say, picking up the tattered teddy bear that Jen is kind enough to keep in front of her pillow. “How about this?” I hold it up by a partially severed paw. It’s seen some serious childhood mileage—obviously, one of her most treasured possessions.
“It’s yours.” He sinks a barrage of stuffed animals into the sack one slam-dunk after another.
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