Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance

by Claire Adams

  "We should have known. Everyone thinks it. My mother told me last night I should have done something," Quinn said.

  "What could we have done? How could we have known? Sienna never shared her plans for herself. She only told people how to play their parts."

  I was angry again. Sienna threw us into this horrible drama without a second thought. She had never thought about anyone but herself.

  "I was going to be the nurse to her surgeon," Quinn said. She sat up and swept back her hair. It smelled of rose water.

  "And I was supposed to be the trophy husband to her successful career woman," I said.

  "Except you were supposed to go off and coach little league or join the Rotary Club. Not go and get professional sponsors to play video games," Quinn said.

  "Yeah, I went off script."

  "Me too," Quinn said. "I almost failed gross anatomy. You should have seen Sienna's face when I bombed the practice final."

  "What are we going to do without Sienna here to organize us?" I asked. My arm was still around Quinn's shoulders. I didn't let go.

  "Sit on the couch and play video games," she said with a weak smile.

  We settled back, Quinn tucked into the crook of my arm, and restarted the game. Upstairs, the funeral reception continued. People shared stories of Sienna the perfect, Sienna the ambitious, Sienna the bright ray of golden sunshine. In the basement, we tried to forgot how she hurt us, her death most of all.

  #

  It was easy to ignore everything else. Quinn was tucked under my arm. She fit perfectly. Dark Flag was open on the wide screen television. It had to be alright for us to disappear for a while. The upstairs world could go on without us.

  "Have you seen the Black Fields?" I asked.

  I felt Quinn's head shake then nestle in closer. "No. Could you show me?"

  "Wanna get away for a while?"

  "Exactly."

  I booted up the game to a new entry point. Players from my clan popped up everywhere, but I repeated the same message: "Touring a newbie."

  It was actually part of my job. In fact, within five minutes, I spotted the avatar of one of my supervisors. My sponsors had players in the game to see that I logged the required number of hours and mentioned their product enough times.

  "Hang on. I have to tell that Cloaked Corpse about Buzz Fuel," I said.

  "The energy drink?" Quinn asked.

  I was glad she did not sit up and instead stayed nestled against me. "Yeah, it’s one of my sponsors. I get paid to mention it during play. There are even bonuses if I mention it a certain number of times."

  "Your clan players don't think it’s weird?"

  "A lot of them know it’s part of my gig. Though, it’s also pretty natural because a lot of the players log on after work and pull all-nighters. We talk strategy and staying alert is part of that," I said.

  "Do you drink Buzz Fuel?"

  I looked down at her scrunched up nose and laughed. "I go for plain black coffee. Keeps you from getting dehydrated. But don't tell the Cloaked Corpse that."

  "I'm just following you," she said.

  Her avatar stood behind mine. It looked surprisingly like her. Most people chose idealized body types and features for their avatars or decided to be otherworldly creatures. My avatar had a wicked spiked helmet, but if I removed it, the face was a composite created directly from a digital photograph of me. My sponsors wanted me to be recognizable.

  Quinn had also chosen to be a human warrior. It meant her avatar depended on weapons, charms, and spells to survive, but her ability to gather such things was unlimited. She was new to the game and had earned very little armor, and I could not help but noticed her avatar's curves matched her own dimensions.

  Unlike the avatar that approached me as I left the Cloaked Corpse. It was a female Nocturne with bluish skin and iridescent eyes. Her breasts had been pumped up past voluptuous and the skin-tight silver suit showed off every ounce.

  "May I please the clan leader?" the Nocturne asked.

  "Whoa, avatars can do that?" Quinn asked.

  "You mean throw themselves at other avatars?" I asked. I typed in a sequence that put the Nocturne aside. "They can do a lot more than that. In the waysides and taverns, avatars can kiss, fondle, undress, have sex, all of it. Dark Flag is not just rated M for violence."

  The pop-up screen of commands appeared next to Quinn's avatar. I tried not to watch as she tried a few out. Her avatar ran its hands over its breasts, unzipped its jacket, and licked its lips.

  "You might want to watch what you're doing. There are other players around that might be interested," I said.

  Quinn quickly scrolled through the commands but could not find the reverse. Her avatar's jacket was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the very thin tank top underneath.

  "Why is my avatar not wearing a bra?" Quinn asked.

  "Virtual gravity is not a factor?" I suggested.

  She whacked my arm and finally found the right command. With her avatar fully dressed, she sat up. "Okay, there is way more to Dark Flag than I'm ready to take on right now. Are you hungry?"

  "Thirsty," I said. The heat between us had made my mouth go dry.

  "Then let's go on a real-life raid. The caterers in the kitchen know me and they'll put together a quick tray and drinks for us," Quinn said.

  "So you really plan to hide out down here the rest of the day?" I asked.

  Quinn stood up and nodded. "Yes. Definitely. I mean, I get it if you want to leave."

  I shook my head and followed her upstairs. We rounded the corner on the way to the kitchen and Quinn ran right into her father.

  "Quinn, Owen. I should have known you two were hiding out together," Mr. Thomas said. "The hearse just arrived and we'll be leaving for the cemetery in half an hour." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I expect you to be in the limousine with the rest of the family, Quinn."

  "I will, Father. I'm just getting something to eat. I'm feeling light-headed," Quinn said.

  The change was instantaneous. As soon as her father appeared, Quinn became a pale shade of herself. She said as little as possible, nodded while her father spoke, and her sweet mouth turned down at the corners. I had seen it hundreds of times before. Every time it happened, I wanted to punch Mr. Thomas in the face.

  "Sienna would have known how to handle herself," Mr. Thomas told his youngest daughter. "Pull yourself together for her sake."

  "Yes, Father. Can I get you anything?" Quinn asked.

  "No, but maybe Owen here can explain why my wife is so upset," Mr. Thomas turned on me.

  It seemed obvious, so I said nothing. The silence infuriated him, and I saw Quinn shrink back. Finally, I relented. "She never approved of me and Sienna. I think maybe I should go."

  Behind her father's ramrod straight back, Quinn caught my eye and shook her head. She looked so sad, as if I was abandoning her. I imagined the limousine ride to the cemetery. Her parents could not go five minutes on a regular day without comparing her to Sienna. What would they say to her on the drive?

  I held out my hand to shake Mr. Thomas's in farewell. He ignored it and walked away.

  "Are you really going?" Quinn asked. "At least grab a sandwich or something first."

  I should have left, but I followed her to the kitchen. The quiet caterers moved easily around Quinn. Their manager came right over. "You want a plate, Ms. Thomas?"

  "Yes, please. Two. Whatever you've got," she said. She was anxious to retreat again. Her eyes kept scanning the doorways.

  "We're so sorry for your loss, Ms. Thomas," the manager said. "It sounds like your sister was an amazing person and you were following in her footsteps. Your parents are lucky to have you."

  Quinn gave me a painful look. She had been surviving comparisons to Sienna all her life, but today everything was compounded. "Let's hope I don't go too far," Quinn said.

  The nearest server fumbled a handful of silverware.

  "How about a little something from the bar, as well?" I sai
d. I took Quinn's arm and steered her back towards the basement.

  "Quinn, what on earth are you doing with him?" Mrs. Thomas hissed from the doorway.

  "You mean Owen?" Quinn spun to face her mother, the color bright on her cheeks. "Trying to get through this awful day, same as you."

  "Well, he can't be helping," her mother said.

  "How can you say that? Don't you remember how many times Owen came to Thanksgiving? Nine. He made the stuffing and the gravy at four," Quinn said. "And remember who did all the touch-ups when you fired the painters? These walls would be splotchy if he had not taken a whole day to fix them for you."

  "It's okay, Quinn. I should go," I said.

  "No. How can they forget that you're my friend?" she asked. "You didn't like him dating Sienna, but you had no problem with him driving me to Los Angeles. It wasn't an issue when you scheduled a cruise during Sienna's cheerleading camp week and Owen had to stay here so I wouldn't be alone."

  "Really, Quinn, you are just being silly. I'm sure it’s the stress of all this, but you should stop before you make a fool of yourself," Mrs. Thomas said.

  "A fool of myself?" Quinn asked. "I'm not hunting around for someone to blame."

  Mrs. Thomas gripped her narrow waist until her knuckles turned white. "He certainly did not help Sienna, did he? You don't think she realized how close you two were? You don't think we all knew about your 'friendship’?"

  "Sienna was happy I was spending time with Quinn," I said. "She knew knew we like the same things."

  "Childish things, little kid games," Mrs. Thomas spat. "Well, at least you realized Sienna was too good for you. I was glad when you two started drifting apart."

  "You wanted him out of Sienna's life, but you expected him to be there and prevent all of this?" Quinn asked. She threw her hands up in disgust. "You don't even know what you're saying."

  "No one does today. It's alright, Quinn. I'm going to leave," I said.

  "I'll walk you to your car," she said.

  Mrs. Thomas opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn brushed past her. I had no choice but to follow her out the front door. She moved fast, her long legs flying down the front steps. Her black high heels clicked quickly along the sidewalk and I had to hurry to catch up.

  "Quinn? Are you alright?" I asked.

  "No. Yes. I have no idea," she said, finally slowing down.

  "They feel the same way," I said. "You can't listen to anything they say."

  "Except they're right," Quinn said. "You were Sienna's boyfriend, not my buddy. I shouldn't have pestered you. I should have stuck by my mother and kept her calm."

  "You're allowed to grieve, too. You're allowed to need someone in your corner." I caught her arm. "I'm on your side, Quinn. I've always been on your side."

  "Sienna didn't mind us being friends, did she?" Quinn asked, tears in her eyes.

  "She encouraged it. Sienna was the one that pointed out how much we have in common. She made us friends," I said. I bit my lip to stop from saying more.

  Quinn threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I steadied myself, then wrapped my arms around her. I could not think about how her every curve fit alongside my body. We came together too easily to ignore, but Quinn needed comfort, not complications.

  I would not tell her how many times Sienna confronted me about my feelings for her little sister. Quinn did not need to know how often Sienna complained that her little sister had a crush on me. No one needed to know how that always thrilled me. I kept up with Sienna as long as I could. Now that she was gone, my connection to Quinn was even stronger. We needed each other.

  "It's going to get better," I said.

  "I know, I know," Quinn's voice was muffled against my neck. "Just promise me we won't drift apart." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I didn't know you and Sienna were drifting apart."

  "For a long time, but that doesn't matter now," I said. I set Quinn carefully back on her high heels. "I'm here if you need me."

  She looked at my car and shook her head. "Sienna hated this car."

  "Get in if you want. I can drive you to the cemetery or you can hang out at my place if you want," I said.

  Quinn brushed her chestnut hair back and smoothed it down. "No. I have to ride with my parents. It wouldn't look right if I wasn't with them."

  I wanted to ask her what it mattered how things looked. I wanted to tell her that grief was messy. It was too late. I watched as Quinn straightened her shoulders and marched back to be the dutiful daughter.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Quinn

  The house was spotless when we returned from the cemetery. Even the funeral flowers had been removed. White roses replaced the normal vases of cut flowers my mother ordered, but that was the only change. It was as if nothing had happened.

  I went to change clothes and then came back down to join my parents. They seemed confused.

  "Oh, Quinn, you startled me," my mother said. She and my father sat in their normal spots in the living room. My father was reading and my mother was watching a raucous reality television show.

  He put his book down, and my mother paused the television. The same heavy expression they had worn all day returned. If I had not reappeared, they could have convinced themselves both daughters were at UCLA and all was as it should be. I was an unwelcome reminder that Sienna was gone.

  "I was just coming to say goodnight," I said.

  "It’s only 8 pm," my father said.

  "I'm just really tired," I rubbed my forehead.

  "Sienna says studying before bed is a good idea because your mind works on what you learned all night," my mother told me.

  "Yes, good idea," I said. I did not tell them I had left all my study material at school.

  Upstairs again, the weight overtook me. I sank to the floor next to my bed. Sienna was gone and I could just as easily disappear. In fact, I slipped out of my parents' lives just by leaving the room. I could just leave and they would never even notice. Where would I go and what would I do?

  I knew, but I was not ready to think about it.

  I must have been sitting there for nearly an hour when the phone rang. "Hello?"

  "Quinn, I had to call. How are you?"

  "Darla? Hi. I don't know. I survived," I said. I pulled myself off the floor and wandered around the room as we talked. "How are things on campus?"

  "Crazy. There were about a dozen memorials for Sienna today. The administration has gone into hyper speed about mental health. I swear to God they would screen us all if they could. There's even talk of a suicide prevention team being formed. They want you to be a part of it. I actually had to explain to them why today was not a good day to call and discuss it," Darla said.

  "How am I supposed to come back?" I groaned. "Owen was right, maybe now is a good time to take a break and find out what I really want to do."

  "Owen?" Darla asked. "Yes, of course he was at the funeral."

  "I hid out in the basement playing video games. He found me and we hung out. It was just like old times."

  "Old times like when you had a mad crush on him? Like when he was flirting with you but dating your sister?" Darla asked.

  "Exactly," I said.

  She sighed. "Well, at least that got a little smile out of you. I heard it."

  "I know, I know, but it was really great. He's the only one I can actually talk to around here."

  "And it doesn't hurt that he's a 6 foot, blue-eyed, blond that's built like a Norse god," Darla said. "I'd let him comfort me anytime."

  "Want to know something weird?" I asked. "My mother was crazy today and trying to place the blame on Owen. While she was ranting at him, she said the strangest thing. She said everyone knew about Owen and me. Sienna even knew how well we got along and she encouraged Owen to hang out with me."

  "Well, she did only use him as eye candy," Darla said. "Maybe your sister realized you two share something a little deeper."

  "But she still dated him."

  "Was your siste
r ever any good at sharing?" Darla asked. "Sorry."

  "No, it's good. Owen and I spent all day listening to memories of Sienna that had passed through a perfecting lens. No one wanted to remember that she was real," I said. I flopped back on my bed. "I don't want my sister to be a saint. I just want to remember my actual sister."

  "Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry. You and Sienna loved each other. Sisters don't always get along, sisters don't always share, and sisters certainly don't take it easy on each other. No one knew her like you."

  "Thanks, Darla. I'll be back on campus soon," I said. We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

  Darla was right. I knew Sienna better than anyone. And now that I thought about it, she had always talked about Owen and me together. She had talked to me about movies Owen and I would like, stores we should visit, and places we should go. Sometimes she sent us off together while she was busy. At the time I would be embarrassed, thinking she was using Owen to babysit me, but now I wondered.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the window. It was followed by a smattering of clicks, pebbles hitting the glass. I pulled myself off my bed and went to the window. Owen waved from the lawn and pointed to the kitchen door.

  It was the way he used to sneak into the house during high school. I turned and tiptoed down to the kitchen to let him in. I warned him not to say a thing. We slipped along the hallway and down the basement to the safety of the old leather sofa.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked.

  "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I drove to the cemetery. I didn't join everyone at the graveside, but I was there. You didn't look like you were doing too good," Owen said.

  I rubbed my forehead again. "It, it was a tough drive there and back."

  "Your parents? I figured."

  For a moment, I thought he was going to pull me into a hug, but Owen hesitated and I took a step back. Instead, he sat down on the sofa and opened the backpack he had brought with him.

  "I realized I still had some things of Sienna's that I thought you might want back," Owen said. He pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.