Parrish

by Shannen Crane Camp

  “I don’t envy you guys right now, even if I do have the most boring job,” Deacon added from his position in the café. “Oh, and Anthony still hasn’t left his office. Looks like he’s making his secretary work late too. We must have really thrown this guy off balance.”

  “That’s why we need to hurry up and get that envelope,” I said. “I think he’s trying to figure out a way to destroy whatever is in it.”

  “A fire would be more effective than whatever he’s plotting in his office,” Jefferson said beside me.

  Despite what he’d said at the mall, he actually had ended up changing his clothes. He was now wearing an old black three-piece suit with a black skinny tie. The thin black mask over his huge owl eyes was actually kind of attractive, although I’d never tell him that.

  “Maybe he has to legally destroy it. Not literally destroy it,” I said. “I don’t know; I’m not a lawyer.”

  “Obviously, or else I wouldn’t be talking to you,” Jefferson said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “And why have you been so . . .” I let my words trail off, almost forgetting that we had earpieces in.

  “Why have I been so what?”

  I looked around the room, knowing we didn’t really have time for me to ask Jefferson a million questions about his odd behavior when we had more important things to do.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Just try to find Logan.”

  “Already did,” he said.

  I gave him a questioning look.

  “I’m tall,” he added with a shrug. “He’s standing over by the wall being about as social as I feel right now.”

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about getting him alone,” I said. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Whoa, calm down there, Sade,” Jefferson said, moving his arm so that it now encircled my waist as he led me toward the center of the room where a few brave students had started dancing when the music slowed. “It’s going to look suspicious if you get to the party and instantly go talk to him.”

  “There are a million people here—I highly doubt he saw me come in,” I argued, trying to fight back when Jefferson turned me toward him.

  I was not a dancer.

  “Almost everyone here is wearing black,” he said. “You’re in a bright yellow dress and you look gorgeous. I’m sure he saw you come in.”

  I tried to be mad that he’d called me gorgeous when Brighton and Deacon could hear, but I just couldn’t muster the anger, even if I had wanted to. Instead, I used all of my energy to fight against the smile that was threatening to break over my face. He was weird. But it kind of worked for him. And I kind of liked it.

  Jefferson placed his hands on my waist and, having no choice, I put my hands behind his neck as we began dancing. I kept my eyes on Logan, although I’d look away when I thought he might glance our way, not wanting to obviously stare at him.

  “Werewolf,” Jefferson said.

  “What?” I asked, looking up to see that he was staring intently at me with a small half-smile on his face.

  “The song,” he elaborated. “It’s called ‘Werewolf.’ By Cat Power. Good choice, random irresponsible student council member.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was actually talking to me or to himself, but I just let him ramble, figuring it was better to not interrupt a Parrish unless you wanted a long, drawn-out explanation. I could only hope he hadn’t bribed someone to play his weird music when we barely had any money left.

  I tried to look over Jefferson’s shoulder to keep an eye on Logan, but Jefferson blocked my view, reaching out and plucking the hidden microphone off my dress. He did the same to his own tiny microphone and flipped the almost invisible switches on both of them so that they no longer picked up sound.

  “Brighton?” he said into the small mics.

  I listened in my earpiece but didn’t hear anything from her.

  “Good,” he said, taking both of our earpieces as well and placing them in his pocket before returning his hands to my waist. “Do you want to know why I’ve been a little odd today?”

  “Today?” I asked.

  He gave me a look that said I wasn’t funny.

  “Not really, no. I’d actually really like to talk to Logan and get this thing figured out.”

  “I realized that I might not have you,” he went on, ignoring me.

  “Have me?” I asked. “What does that even mean?”

  “I kind of thought after we’d kissed and we’d started opening up to each other, that maybe I had you. Maybe I didn’t have to worry anymore about how you felt or that you’d suddenly leave. Like maybe we belonged to each other. But I don’t really have you, do I?”

  I was a little nervous about where this conversation was going since I knew Jefferson was a notoriously intense person. He didn’t do casual relationships as far as I could tell. He seemed more like the type of person who would see a girl and either be friends with her or marry her. There wasn’t much of an in-between for someone so extreme. I really wanted to play dumb so we didn’t have to get into this right now, but I knew it wouldn’t work. He had me trapped on the dance floor and I was going to have to take my own advice and face my feelings.

  “Jefferson, we really need to talk to Logan,” I said. “Maybe we can talk about this later?”

  “Sadie, I don’t care about being normal and I don’t care if it’s weird to have this conversation. I don’t care if I feel too much. The idea of losing you makes me violently ill.”

  “Okay, way too much,” I said. “I’ll have this conversation with you if I have to, but you need to keep the crazy contained a little bit better and dial it down about fifteen notches, got it?”

  “I’ll try again,” he said. “I know you’re embarrassed by me. Basically everyone is. I’m the running joke in my family and I’m fine with that.”

  “I’m not embarrassed by you,” I said, half truthfully. “You’re just . . . more intense than most people.”

  I adjusted the black and yellow mask that had started to drift down my face.

  “I love you in yellow, by the way,” he said out of nowhere. “You’re like a little spot of sunshine.”

  I just sighed at his statement. I couldn’t fault him for all of the weird things he said—that was just Jefferson, and I’d known that getting into this non-relationship.

  “I’ll try really hard not to be too intense. But I can’t help it when I lo—”

  I pressed my fingers urgently to his mouth. I was definitely not about to let Jefferson Parrish say he loved me. Not when there were so many other things that were important right at that moment. Granted, he’d basically already said it before, but before, I was able to dance around it. If he said it outright, I’d have to address it right this second.

  “You can be honest with me. Just don’t say that. At least not now,” I said.

  “You want me to be honest? What do you want me to tell you? I’ll tell you anything.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said, but it was too late. I’d opened Pandora’s Box by telling Jefferson to be honest—something he didn’t have a problem with as it was.

  “My family hates me. The Temple side, at least. My father was the last person to ever really love me and then he died.”

  “Deacon loves you,” I said.

  “He does,” he agreed with a furrowed brow. “Deacon is a good person.”

  “And your family sounds awful, so I wouldn’t worry about what they think of you.”

  “My cousins . . . the evil Temple Twins? They call me the Little Orphan,” he said with a mirthless laugh. “Dresden says I don’t belong on the Temple side of the family with my mum and the rest of them, and my dad died, so I’m just the Little Orphan, stuck at the grown-ups table at family reunions.”

  “Well, she sounds kind of like the devil, and when I meet her, I’ll punch her for you,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  It was a futile effort, of course. Eve
n talking about his awful family couldn’t distract Jefferson from his task.

  “Please just tell me how you feel so I know if I should let myself trust you, or if you’re going to leave,” he said, not begging, and oddly not sounding like a desperate, clingy boyfriend. There was something about Jefferson’s sincerity that made words that would normally sound crazy instead sound incredibly genuine. He was frighteningly vulnerable for someone that everyone seemed to be put off by.

  I took a deep breath, knowing honesty would be the only way out of this intimate situation.

  “I’m not going to leave,” I said with a small shrug, not quite sure where my words had come from. “I know what it’s like to be left, too, and it makes you feel unwanted and small. And maybe I’m crazy, but I don’t feel that way when I’m with you. Maybe you are too intense and maybe I am too stubborn, but your family shouldn’t treat you the way they do. I hope you take me to meet them one day just so that I can say that to them and tell them how awful they are for treating you like less than a human being.

  “I’m sorry that it’s going to take me a lot longer than it’s going to take you to be honest. I’m sorry that I’m going to get mad at you for probably every romantic gesture, but it won’t be my fault because you need to learn what’s a normal display of affection and what’s grounds for getting placed into a mental hospital. I want to be with you, but I don’t want Brighton and Deacon to know yet because I feel like this is new and special and I want it to just be ours for a while without having to explain it to anyone else.

  “Also, this is probably the last time I’ll ever be this honest with you, or with anyone for that matter, so I’ll just tell you that I have no intention of leaving you because, as crazy as you make me and as intense as you are, I really like you. And I don’t want to leave. So yes, Jefferson, you do have me.”

  Honesty had never been my strong point, and I couldn’t really figure out why I’d picked that particular moment to let all of my pent-up thoughts come bubbling to the surface in that rare moment of sharing, but I wasn’t mad that I had done it. In fact, I felt really good that Jefferson now knew exactly how I felt, even if that got rid of my power in the relationship or whatever the reason was you were supposed to be dishonest with people you liked.

  Feeling this exposed was liberating.

  “I have you?” he asked again, clarifying even though he really didn’t need to.

  “You have me,” I said.

  “But I can’t say . . . it?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  I’d excuse a lot of his intensity because it’s just how he was, but we weren’t going to throw around the “L” word quite yet.

  “Why not?”

  “Just because,” I said. I didn’t really have a good reason.

  “Well, I’m thinking it. Just know that.”

  “Okay,” I said, with a small smile, shaking my head at him and rolling my eyes.

  He smiled back at me slowly, his big green eyes squinting behind his black mask. Leaning down, he gave me one long, deep kiss that I didn’t pull away from, even though I knew Brighton might see. I allowed myself that one stolen moment with Jefferson Parrish on the dance floor at a cheesy masquerade that I’d cringe over when I thought back on the cliché of it all. But for just that one moment, I enjoyed it. I even enjoyed Jefferson’s weird music that the DJ had somehow magically known to play.

  When I pulled away from Jefferson with a lazy look of happiness lining my face, he brought my head down to rest against his chest. I listened to his heart beating faster than a humming bird’s despite his calm exterior, and I had to smile to myself. I’d done that.

  “Brighton,” he suddenly said, breaking the spell and pulling away from me ever so slightly so that we were at an appropriate dancing distance.

  Seconds later, Brighton was by my side with an incredulous look on her face.

  “I’ve been talking to you guys for ages with no response,” she whispered. “We need to get on this! Deacon said Anthony looks like he’s wrapping up for the night.”

  “Sorry, I was just—”

  “I made her dance with me,” Jefferson said, with a what-can-you-do look. “Crazy Parrish,” he stated simply, pointing to himself as if that explained it.

  It kind of did.

  “We don’t have time for this.” Brighton took a puff on her inhaler before shoving it down the front of her dress. It disappeared quite effectively into her cleavage. I was slightly jealous.

  “I’m initiating a code red,” she informed us gravely. “Just know that when I end up in the hospital from my massive anxiety attack . . . you two put me there.”

  And with that, she walked away.

  Chapter 28

  “That sounds ominous.” Jefferson turned back to me with a sort-of smile. It was more like he had tightened the corners of his mouth and puckered his lips out. Whatever it was, it was adorable, but far from appropriate given our current situation.

  “Where were we?” he asked.

  I gave him a look of disbelief.

  “Seriously?” I pulled out of his grasp to get a better look at Brighton. “What is she doing?”

  Not waiting for a response, I shoved my hand into Jefferson’s pocket and retrieved the mic and earpiece, quickly turning it on and replacing it in my ear. The second the bud was back in, I could hear Deacon panicking.

  “Guys, what is she doing? Can you see her? She stopped talking.”

  “I’ve got eyes on her,” I said.

  “Very official.” Jefferson put his own earpiece back in and gave one last longing look at the dance floor.

  He hadn’t ever struck me as a dancer. Who knew?

  “I’m over by the south wall and Brighton is near the refreshments table, closing in on Logan,” I informed Deacon.

  Logan stood by himself near an ice bucket full of cans of soda.

  “Brighton,” Deacon said. “Whatever you’re doing, make it quick. Anthony just sent his receptionist home. I think he’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Sorry, can I just reach behind you there?” Brighton asked Logan. Although we were across the room, I could hear her perfectly in my earpiece.

  “Yeah, sure.” He gave her a once-over, not doing much to hide it.

  Brighton, amazingly, looked completely relaxed as she giggled and reached behind him, brushing her shoulder against his in the process.

  “Thanks,” she replied with a coy smile. “I’m Brighton, by the way.”

  “Logan.”

  “So, what is this party for anyway? I sort of crashed it,” she said conspiratorially.

  “For freshmen who are looking to get into the law program at the State University of New York.”

  “Isn’t that in New Paltz?” she asked, not missing a beat. “Why are they having the party in Kingston?”

  “No clue.” He laughed, shifting his weight toward her and leaning against the table.

  “I got all dressed up to go out with some friends tonight but my plans fell through,” she lied easily. “So I saw that there was something going on inside of this beautiful old building and had to check it out.”

  “At least she had the good sense to take off her mask before she lied about crashing the party,” Jefferson said.

  “First, she can hear you,” I said. “And second, she didn’t lie about crashing the party. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

  “Is this the ‘hot’ guy?” Deacon asked, sounding uncomfortable. “I don’t like him. Let’s just figure out some other way to get the files.”

  “I love old buildings,” Brighton said loudly. She was wordlessly telling us to be quiet so she could concentrate. “All of these old houses around Kingston are just gorgeous, but you can’t exactly sneak into a house like you can a public building.” She laughed. “I bet they’re full of character.”

  With all of the smiling and giggling, I would have thought she was totally comfortable hitting on a complete stranger,
but the white-knuckled grip she had on her soda can gave her away to anyone who was really paying attention.

  “Sorry.” She rolled her blue eyes at him. “I’m being such a history nerd right now, huh?”

  “No, I like the historical architecture around Kingston too,” Logan said, a little too enthusiastically.

  Over our earpieces Deacon scoffed. “What a bunch of bollocks.”

  I was just happy he wasn’t actually here to witness Brighton turning on the charm. He’d either be enraged with jealousy or ruin her whole ruse by running over to kiss her right then and there.

  “Actually,” Logan began. And with that magic word, we all held our breath, hoping he was really about to say exactly what we needed him to. “I live just a few minutes from here in this little old Craftsman house.”

  “Little,” I said with a snort.

  “I mean . . . if you’re not too invested in this party you aren’t technically supposed to be at anyway, I could show you.” He grinned at her in a charming way.

  “Really?” She placed her hand on his arm, her entire face lighting up. “You mean I wouldn’t have to get arrested for breaking in just to satisfy the history buff in me?”

  He laughed.

  Oh, she was good.

  “We can avoid any possible arrests tonight.” He smoothly placed a hand on her bare back and led her toward the exit.

  “Are they leaving?” Deacon asked.

  “Don’t worry, Deacon, we’ll be right behind them.” I laced my fingers through Jefferson’s to pull him out of the room and into the cool night air.

  “Um . . . no . . . just . . . I’m fine,” Deacon said out of the blue. “Don’t need anything. Thank you. Just . . . working on my computer like a totally normal bloke. I’m. Um. Just going to stick with coffee.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Jefferson. “Waiter?”

  “Female,” he guessed.

  “Can you still see her?” Deacon asked only two seconds later. He was now apparently talking to us since the danger of speaking to a woman was gone.

  “No, but we know where they’re going so we’ll catch up, plus we can hear them,” I said.