The Book of Peril

by Melissa McShane

  Bright orange electrical cords ran across the grass at the other end, attached to amplifiers and other tools of the musician’s trade. Discordant twanging indicated Viv’s band was almost ready to play. I crossed the grass to talk to Viv, seated behind her drums and tapping each surface with a distant look in her eyes, as if listening to them speak to her. “You’re sure no one minds we’re doing this here?”

  “I invited half the complex,” Viv said, “and the other half holds much wilder parties than this one all summer long. You worry too much. Relax. Get drunk. Enjoy yourself.”

  I never enjoyed being drunk, but a little buzz would be nice. I wandered back over to the cooler and helped myself to a bottle and popped the top off the way Chet had taught me. Chet. I was done thinking about my ex-boyfriend, really I was, and besides, I’d been the one to end it. It wasn’t as if I missed him at all, because I didn’t; the relationship had ended months before I’d found the nerve to call it off for real. But he’d been my first serious boyfriend, and maybe it wasn’t unreasonable for me to think of him sometimes. It just felt weak. Needy. I was fine without a boyfriend, and I was certainly better off without Chet.

  I took a long pull from my drink and sighed with pleasure. Here came the first guests, and tonight was going to be a great party. Even if some of them weren’t my friends, but Viv’s, here only for the free booze. The cool, damp evening air made me shiver a little, and I took another drink. Was it true alcohol warmed you, or was that a myth? Either way, I’d feel loose enough to dance soon, and that would warm me up fine.

  “Helena.” Betsey Trainer flung her arms around me. “Happy birthday. Twenty-two, right?”

  “Well past legal. How are you, Ruth?” Betsey’s girlfriend gave me a shy nod. I didn’t know Ruth as well as I’d like, but Betsey was cheerful and as fun-loving as Viv and made any party livelier. “Help yourselves to drinks—there are Dave and Linda, but I’ll see you around, right?”

  People were trickling in faster now, and I had to scramble to make sure everyone was greeted. Across the lawn, Viv’s band, The American Suffragettes, started in on a cover of “Avalanche” that drew most of my guests into a spontaneous dance. Betsey grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “Dance with us!”

  The music was wild and loud, and the beer had done its job because I felt light and airy and ready to dance the night away. I bounced from partner to partner, laughing when Xander Pullman went into his awful breakdancing routine and insisted I cheer him on. Finally, the band took a break, Viv hooked up her iPod for some canned music, and we all trooped back to the pavilion. “Cake now?” Viv said.

  “Cake now.”

  I endured a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday To You” before Viv would let me cut the cake. There were at least forty people there—maybe the cake hadn’t been so optimistic after all. I took my piece and a plastic fork and retreated to the outskirts of the group, who’d crowded in around the table. Chocolate with buttercream frosting. Not my favorite, but I’d reasoned carrot cake wouldn’t be popular, and I had guests to think of.

  From where I stood, I could see the corner of the parking lot through the space where two of the apartment buildings met in an L-shape. Lights flashed out of sight around the corner as someone else pulled in. I hoped we weren’t taking up too much of the lot—hoped even more no one would have anyone towed.

  “Nice party,” Judy said from close beside me. I jumped and turned a little too quickly, then had to make a dive to keep my cake from falling to the ground.

  “I didn’t know you were here.”

  Judy shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else going on. Viv’s band is pretty good.”

  “She says they’re getting better, but people still want them to play covers rather than their original music.”

  “I can see why. I mean, not that their music is bad, but they make other people’s music sound better.” Judy stuffed a large bite of cake into her mouth as if trying to keep any other insults from flying out.

  “I understood you.” An awkward silence fell over us both. I was uncomfortable talking about Abernathy’s in public, even if we were standing alone, but the store was the only thing we had in common. “How’s your father?”

  Judy’s lips quirked in an ironic smile. “Fine, but I’m sure you don’t really care.”

  “I guess not.” William Rasmussen and I had been at odds since I refused to give up the custodianship of Abernathy’s in Judy’s favor. He didn’t like me, I didn’t like him, and we managed to stay polite the few times he’d been into the store since last November, but polite was all I was willing to be. “I could ask if you have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or whatever.”

  The smile widened. “We’ve worked together for almost five months, and you’ve never once asked me anything that personal.”

  “I suppose—I don’t know why that is.”

  Judy shrugged. “I don’t ask you personal questions either, so that’s fair.” She glanced past my shoulder, toward the parking lot. “Though your personal life is about to come walking in.”

  I turned around. Coming toward us were Malcolm Campbell and Derrick Tinsley, both moving like jungle predators even though they had to be off duty. Derrick, a member of Malcolm’s four-person invader-fighting team, saw me and waved. I glanced back at Judy. “That’s not—Malcolm and I—”

  “Save it, Helena. I know you’re just good friends. That’s all it had better stay, too.” With that cryptic remark, Judy walked away. Surely Judy wasn’t interested in him? She and Malcolm disliked each other on principle, Malcolm being an Ambrosite and Judy being the daughter of the Nicollien leader, but what if that concealed a different feeling?

  I crushed jealousy under my heel and went to greet the two. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Quincy had a prior engagement, but she asked us to wish you a happy birthday,” Derrick said. “And you know what Canales is like. He said you didn’t need a fifty-year-old bulldog hanging around.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered, but I understand.” Derrick was built like a tank, with a powerful jaw and jutting forehead, but his smile was pure sweetness. “Come have some cake and a beer.”

  “I hope we haven’t missed Viv’s performance,” Malcolm said.

  “They’ll play again soon.” He was dressed more casually than I’d ever seen him, in faded jeans and a red T-shirt with NAVY blazoned across the front. I handed him a plate and a fork and added, “They’re pretty good.”

  “So I hear.” He helped himself to a bottle of Samuel Adams and popped the top with a practiced gesture I was pretty sure was magical.

  “Well, I should mingle, but enjoy yourselves, and I’ll see you around?” I could feel myself beginning to babble again, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Like Judy, everything I had in common with Malcolm and Derrick wasn’t stuff you could talk about in public. But they didn’t seem to mind. I backed away into the crowd, then went running for Viv.

  I couldn’t see her anywhere. She was 5’10” and had a bright green bob; she shouldn’t have been able to disappear into a crowd that small. But she had. I worked my way to the band, where Tiffany Alcock and a man I didn’t know were talking. “Where’s Viv?”

  Tiffany shrugged. “I think she went inside for more beer. Hey, isn’t that—”

  “Helena,” said Mike Keyes from behind me. Mike was one of the friends I’d won in the breakup, so to speak. “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “What’s up?”

  Mike shifted his weight and hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “It’s about Chet.”

  “That’s what I was saying,” Tiffany said. “Why’d you invite Chet?”

  I looked past Mike and stiffened. There was the familiar lanky body, the mop of blond hair that always looked in need of a comb, the T-shirt reading GEEK & PROUD I’d bought him to celebrate our one-month anniversary. Chet stood up straighter when my gaze met his. He was several feet away, but I could still make out the charming smile I’d told my
self was genuine. “Mike, why is he here?”

  “Give him a chance, Helena. He just wants to wish you a happy birthday and maybe talk some.”

  “We don’t have anything to talk about.”

  Mike looked like a kid caught between fighting parents. “He’s sorry for the way things ended. Let him apologize, all right?”

  My buzz had faded away entirely, leaving me feeling cold and empty. “You shouldn’t have done this, Mike.”

  “You won’t regret it, Helena. Just five minutes.”

  I sighed and pushed past Mike to approach Chet. His smile broadened as I came near. “Hey, babe,” he said.

  “I told you not to call me ‘babe,’ Chet. What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Is that so terrible?”

  His wounded expression gave me a pang of guilt at overreacting. It wasn’t like I hated him. “I guess not. Thanks.”

  “Wait.” He put his hand on my arm to stop me when I would have moved away. “Can’t we talk for a minute, like old friends?”

  We’re not friends rushed to my lips, but I suppressed it. That would have been ungracious. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, how have you been? I heard you got a new job. You liking it?”

  “Yes. It’s interesting, and I meet all sorts of people.” Against my better judgment, I added, “How about you?”

  “Still working at Costco. I’m an assistant manager now.”

  “That’s great!” I felt stupid at how enthusiastic I’d sounded. “You dating anyone?”

  “No. Of course not.” His grip on my arm tightened. “There’s never been anyone but you.”

  “You were dating that girl Sarah before you met me, so I think that’s untrue.” I twisted my arm to break his grasp—something Derrick had taught me—and took a step backward. He didn’t follow.

  “You know what I mean. Come on, Hel, we were good together. Why can’t we try to make this work?”

  I cast a quick glance around. Nobody paid any attention to us. They were all busy stuffing their faces with cheap grocery store cake and laughing like crazy at jokes I hadn’t heard. “Because I don’t want to make this work, Chet. I don’t feel that way about you anymore.”

  “I know we went through a rough patch, but that’s all changed. I’ve changed.” He dug in his pocket for a small box. “Look, I brought you something.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.” I put my hands behind my back so I couldn’t take the box.

  “At least look at them.” He opened the little jewelry box and held it up to my face. I gasped. Inside was a pair of diamond stud earrings, at least a carat each. They must be cubic zirconia, Chet can’t afford real diamonds. “They’re the kind of thing I can see you wearing. Classy. Happy birthday, Helena.”

  “Chet, I can’t accept them. We’re not dating anymore—it’s completely inappropriate.” Now I was glad no one was paying attention to this scene.

  “I want you to have them. As a promise. I’ll do better this time. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  I snapped the little box shut. “What I want,” I said, “is for you to leave. Please.” I had no idea why I tacked on that last word, since polite wasn’t close to how I felt.

  “I won’t go until you promise to think about what I’ve said.”

  “I’m not going to promise that.”

  “Then I’m not leaving.”

  “Is this a friend of yours?” Malcolm said, startling me. I’d never known a man his size who could move like a cat.

  “Not anymore,” I said, not caring now that I was rude. My heart beat too rapidly, and I’d clenched my hands into fists without noticing. Even Malcolm’s presence didn’t calm me.

  “Her boyfriend,” Chet said, casting his eye over Malcolm and dismissing him. If I hadn’t known he was stupid before then, that would have proved it.

  “He’s not my boyfriend. And he’s leaving.”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving until you promise to think about what I said.”

  “I believe the lady asked you to leave,” Malcolm said. He sounded as calm as if this confrontation meant nothing. To him, maybe it didn’t.

  Chet looked at me and began to laugh. “She’s no lady,” he said. “If you knew some of the things we’ve done—”

  The punch came out of nowhere. Chet staggered and fell on his butt. The little box flew out of his hand and bounced away across the grass. All around us, conversations came to a halt, though the merry banjo of Mumford & Sons continued without pause, the vocalist declaring he would wait for whoever it was he was singing to.

  Malcolm stood over Chet, flexing his fist as if working the blood back into it. “And you’re no gentleman,” he said.

  “You hit me,” Chet squealed, putting his hand to his nose to stanch the flow of blood. “You broke my nose.”

  “Calm down, it’s probably not broken,” Derrick said. He knelt beside Chet and gently felt along the bridge of his bloody nose.

  Chet shrieked and pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Don’t get so excited. I’m a doctor.” Derrick held Chet’s nose again. “Someone bring me a napkin and some ice.”

  I hurried off to fulfil those instructions, feeling desperately self-conscious and angry and embarrassed all at once. Derrick was a bone magus as well as a doctor, capable of healing most bodily injuries, and he didn’t need ice for that, so he’d wanted to give me something to do. Malcolm had punched Chet for me. Part of me was grateful he’d come to my rescue. The rest of me was coiled up in knots, angry that it had turned to violence, angry that it had even been necessary.

  I gathered up a handful of melting ice in a napkin and brought that and a wad of more napkins back to Derrick. The bleeding had already stopped, and Chet snatched the napkins from me and swiped the blood from his face. “I’ll have you arrested,” he said. “Assault and battery. How do you like that?”

  “I think it would be amusing to watch you try,” Malcolm said, “but then you’ll have to explain your harassment of Helena, who I’m certain will want to press charges of her own.”

  “I didn’t do anything to her, jackass.”

  “I told you to leave me alone, Chet,” I said, stepping back next to Malcolm. “Don’t make this into more than it is. Leave. Now.”

  Chet wiped his face again. With the napkin full of ice held to his nose, he looked pitiful and ridiculous. “I just wanted you back, Hel. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I told you I’m not interested. Now, stop ruining my party. Mike, if you want us to stay friends, you’ll take him home.” My anger had me shaking as if the night were freezing cold.

  “I’m sorry, Helena,” Mike said. “I thought he only—never mind. Chet, let’s go.” He got a hand under Chet’s arm and hauled him to his feet.

  “Wait.” I snatched up the box and shoved it into Chet’s hand. “I hope you can get your money back.”

  Chet opened his mouth, winced, and closed it again. He shook off Mike’s hand and strode off in the direction of the parking lot. Mike said, “Sorry,” once more, then followed him.

  Mumford & Sons wound down. Something upbeat and catchy I didn’t recognize started playing. “Stop staring,” I called out. “And somebody bring me a beer.”

  My words broke the spell everyone had been under. Conversations began again, quietly at first, then building to a more normal level. Viv pressed a cold bottle into my hand. “What was that?” she said.

  “I don’t know.” I took a long drink. “I don’t know whether to thank you or punch you,” I said to Malcolm.

  “I apologize. I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Malcolm said.

  I sighed. “I guess I’m glad you didn’t break his nose.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. He did,” Derrick said. “His overdeveloped sense of chivalry is going to get all of us into trouble someday.”

  “Then I’m glad you were around to fix it.” I took another drink. “Do you think this
party is salvageable?”

  “I think Tinsley and I should leave now,” Malcolm said. “Again, I apologize for causing trouble.”

  I felt a little ache, deep inside. “You don’t have to go. The fight was all Chet’s fault.”

  “I think things will go more smoothly without our presence as a reminder.” Malcolm smiled at me. “Happy birthday.”

  When he and Derrick were gone, I took one final swig and controlled a burp. “Why don’t you play me a song, Viv? Something catchy I can dance to.”

  “Sure.” She winked at me. “Hey, a hot guy punched out your ex for you. You can’t ask for a better birthday present than that.”

  I caught Judy watching me from across the lawn. Her expression in the low light was unreadable. “I guess,” I said, but I felt more unsettled than pleased.

  woke Monday morning to the smell of hot coffee drifting under my door. Judy was in the kitchen, seated at the table with a steaming mug and a box of donuts. “Breakfast,” she said, pushing one of my two chairs out with her foot in invitation.

  “How did you get in here?”

  “You left your door unlocked again. You ought to be more careful about that. Anyone could break in.”

  “Anyone with a key to the front door, which is you and me.” I sat opposite her and took a glazed donut covered in yellow and green sprinkles. “Thanks. What do you want?”

  She raised her eyebrows. Today she wore a tweed skirt and jacket that made her look like she was about to give a lecture at Oxford. “I can’t just buy donuts?”

  “You could, theoretically, but you’ve got a look that says you have something on your mind. And I’ve never known you to do anything purely whimsical.” I took a bite. “So what is it?”