“And so she says, no, but my girlfriend can!” Chanel was telling some joke. I’d missed most of it, but apparently it was super funny; they were all cracking up.
My lightheadedness was increasing. I needed water. Hopping off the table I strode over and tugged on one of Chanel’s curls. “Nelly?”
“What?” She turned to me, still clinging to Trent’s arm.
“I’m going to go grab a water. You wanna come?” I nodded to the side, trying to transmit my brainwaves to her: come with me.
“Aw, the witto sailor girl can’t go by hersewf?” Derek mocked, popping up on Trent’s other side.
I shot him a look. Damn, I was tired of him. “Come on, Chanel. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Or maybe, the witto sailor is scawed of getting wost at sea.” Derek continued his charade, motioning to the endless flow of people. His groupies were practically rolling on the floor.
It wouldn’t have bugged me as much if Chanel wasn’t holding in her own giggles. “Don’t worry guys, let me take the witto sailor for a drink and I’ll be right back.” She grinned, waving a careless hand.
I held a hand up to her chest, stopping her abruptly. She looked up in surprise.
“Never mind,” I hissed. “I’ll go by myself.”
Turning on my heel, I pushed through a crowd of lingerie angels. I was so mad. No, scratch that. I was furious. Not only did she have the nerve to drag me to this hell hole in the first place, she had the nerve to disrespect me and join the popular vote. Ridiculous, my mind spat. Classic Chanel! No one should treat their so called ‘best friend’ like that.
I was still shaking from rage by the time I got to the bar. I prayed they weren’t going to ask me for ID. I could pass for twenty maybe, but not much older. “Excuse me!” Waving my hand, I gained the attention of a skinny man with tattoos up his neck. “Do you guys have water?”
Tattoo Man snorted. “Water? Of all these beauties,”—he motioned to the wall of alcohol behind him— “you want water?”
“Yes,” I assured. “Water. No alcohol.”
He scanned me, whether because I was pretty or because he was trying to guess my age, I didn’t ask. “Yeah. I’ll grab you a bottle out of the back.” He disappeared around the corner.
I took a seat at the far end, away from some rowdy baseball fans. Covering my nose with the back of my hands, I sniffed my skin. Jeez, I smelled so much better than this place, like honey lotion and lilac body soap. I wanted seven’ o’clock to come more than a little kid wanted Christmas morning to arrive.
I glanced at the neon clock behind the counter. Six-thirty. Half hour, I thought. Live through the next half hour. I continued to sniff my flesh. It was helping my headache.
Opening my eyes, I turned to pull the rest of my dress beneath me, hating the feeling of my bare thighs against leather I’m sure a hundred other bare butts have touched. I was about to turn back towards the counter when something caught my peripheral vision.
A gasp stuck to my throat.
Among the hundreds of loud men and women, one group sat silently at a table off my left. A golden-haired girl sipped a Coors Light. I thought she was wearing a green silk gown, but when the light hit her just right, the fabric looked leafy. Her companion’s skin was sallow, eyes bloodshot. Damp hair clung to her shoulders and her tube dress had a skittering affect. Spiders, ants, these things crossed my mind.
Then there was the triplets, the ones I’d seen at the mall. On the edge of the table sat the dark-skinned girl from the woods. Her summer dress had been traded for a pale jumpsuit.
I was being watched by all of them.
Shit. It felt like the right thing to think, for my bare legs were sprouting goose bumps all over again. This wasn’t good. Whenever I saw these girls, whoever they were, I’d come to realize they were usually accompanied by… him.
At a table of his own was the pale young man from the mall. His dark hair seemed to eat the light instead of reflect it. Black jeans and a grey button down shirt made him stand out from the crowd—he looked much too classy to be sitting in a club like this. At his feet, off-round shadows moved about his black boots, shadows that did not belong to any part of him. They were careful to not touch the passersby.
Predator smiled at me. A sleek, sexy smile. A smile as if to say, so we meet again.
I was paralyzed with no idea of what to do. I was in an overage club where people were staring at me and smoking and naked on tables while my best friend and I just had a mini fight. I had no one to turn to. I had to get out. Now.
“Alright miss, here’s your water.” The voice of the bartender returned. “On the house.”
I snapped my head around to look at him. Maybe it was just me, but didn’t he have roses tattooed on his neck? Now, I was staring at heart-shaped petals, like those of a Cinquefoil.
His eyebrows pulled into a line. “You alright, miss?”
“Um. Yeah,” I lied, then held my hand out. “Thank you.”
He passed the bottle of Dasani water, unconvinced. I twisted off the lid and downed three long gulps, trying to swallow the panic as well as the liquid. My brain slowly defogged. I cautiously peered back to get another look at the table, but—
He was gone. Predator was gone. Again.
I jerked towards the other table. All of the young women had risen and floated onto the dance floor, though they didn’t dance. No one looked at them as they stood around in the crowd. Ok. Nobody panic, I thought, then took another drink of water. The important part: they stopped staring. And he probably went off to prey on some busty, sleaze bag, glitter thong—
“Beautiful night, no?”
I nearly choked on my water. Slowly twisting my head to the other side, I faced the direction of the smooth voice.
And he was there.
“Bartender,” Predator called, leaning on the counter. “I’d like a White Russian when you have a minute.”
Tattoo Man’s face tightened. “Right away, sir.”
“Thank you.” Predator smiled. It was a smile that would melt hearts across the universe. He took the stool next to me.
I shook like a maraca. Oh, God. This was bad. Very, very bad. Keeping my eyes on my water bottle, I debated whether it would be wiser to run or casually excuse myself to the bathroom. Something had to be done. I had to get away from him.
He looked at me before I’d come to a decision. “Why so afraid, siren?” He scanned my outfit with a smirk. “You seem very unsettled. If anything, shouldn’t men be wary of you tonight?”
I sipped my water, hoping to stabilize my voice. Siren? I never told anybody about the nickname I’d come up with before I left the house.
I cleared my throat. “I’m fine, thank you.”
He placed a delicate hand under his chin, smirk fading. “So, what’s a classy girl like you doing in a trash pit like this? This can’t possibly be your idea of an evening out.” He narrowed his eyes. “You look more like the type of girl who would prefer an evening at a five-star restaurant instead of an R-rated dance club.”
Calm. Eyes forward. “I am here for my own reasons, thank you.”
“I see.” He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “A friend’s idea, perhaps?”
I cringed. “I think that’s my business, sir.”
“Of course,” he purred, sounding completely understanding.
“White Russian.” The bartender spun a round glass towards Predator from the other end of the bar. He caught it, not spilling one drop of the white liquid as he continued to look my way. His stare was seductive, beautiful… and haunting.
Turning his attention to his drink, his throat muscles flexed rhythmically as he sucked down the entire glass in one run. He clanged the glass to the counter, flashing a set of glistening white teeth. “And they say you shouldn’t chug alcohol.”
I’d forgotten how to speak. “Nice.” Shoot, my voice broke.
He laughed. It was a strange, harmonious sound. “You know, I didn’t even ask your name.”
I hesitated. Oh hell. “Um, I don’t… I don’t give my name out to strangers, no offense.”
“Would it help if I gave you mine?”
I looked at him then, full eye to eye contact. He seemed so innocent as his smile turned soft, warm. His silver eyes were friendly, gentle—the eyes an adoring boyfriend usually had for the girl he loved, for that one out of a hundred that he really cared about.
For a second I found myself relaxing, taken in by his sweet disposition. He couldn’t be that dangerous, could he? The dangerous ones weren’t capable of being this… honest looking.
I was about to open my mouth when his smile flat-lined. He winced, like I’d slapped him across the face, and his beautiful features instantly darkened. He turned his body away from me, facing the counter. His eyes were slits.
Relaxation gone. “Is something wrong?” I was terrified that I’d caused such a reaction.
He scratched at the lettering on his empty Bacardi glass, not speaking.
“Um, sir?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t say: Um, Predator?
Suddenly a hand touched my shoulder and I startled right off my stool. Tripping in my high heels like a klutz, I crashed to the neon-splattered floor. Prepared to beat the crap out of the sleazy drunkard who’d touched me, I whipped my head around.
My eyes bugged. This was no drunkard.
Hayden stood stiff as a statue beside my stool, glaring at Predator. His hands were curled into fists, for once not inside his pockets. I slowly pulled myself to my feet. When did he get here? Was it coincidence that he crashed the same Halloween club Chanel and I had?
“Hello, Hayden,” Predator greeted sourly, still playing with his glass. “Long time no see.”
Hayden shook his head. “This crosses the line, Adrian.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Predator tilted to look at him. “Would it?”
They stared for a long, freakishly intense moment. I was waiting for a fight to break out, for a real club brawl like what I’d seen on MTV and Youtube to come to life before my eyes. They looked so severe.
“You can’t have her,” Hayden stated scornfully. “Stop tracking her, and stop following me.”
Adrian wrinkled his nose, then flashed a playful grin. “What? I can’t even have a little fun?”
“I mean it, Adrian!” Hayden barked and his eyes widened—widened with deep silver staining his irises. “Leave her alone. That means forever.”
Adrian sighed, tapping his ring-clad fingers on the counter. He became serious, observing Hayden’s scowling face. “Why this one?” He nodded at me. “There were plenty of others before her. Why not them?”
Hayden’s shoulders scrunched. “She’s different,” he muttered.
“Clearly.” Adrian snorted, then threw me a smirk. “This is unlike you, Hayden, though I don’t blame you. She is a pretty prize, isn’t she? Something almost, otherworldly, about her—”
“This is your last chance.” Hayden took a step toward his enemy now. “Get out of Los Angeles, or meet your deathbed. It’s your choice, and I’ll rise to either challenge.”
Adrian’s eyes softened, and for a second I saw something strange—was it sadness?—cross his face. But the look didn’t last. He stood up and smiled. “Alright, Hayden, alright. No need to get fussy here. If you want this one so much, I’ll let you have her.” He held his hands up in surrender, edging away. “See? I’m going. I remember how to be reasonable.”
“Out!” Hayden snarled over the blaring music.
Adrian shrugged, dropped his hands to his pockets, and dissolved into the crowd. I watched him as he went. He did it so casually, so gracefully. Like he’d just got done at a family dinner instead of nearly participating in a fight.
When I couldn’t see him anymore, I bit my lip and reluctantly turned around. Hayden leered at me with those silver—almost black now—eyes.
I swallowed. “I didn’t know,” I said quickly, trying not to cower. “I didn’t think he’d be here with so many people around.”
Hayden chewed his cheek, crossing his arms. Through his thin-sleeved shirt, his muscles bulged. I flinched at the thought of him striking me, though I knew it was a silly thought. He wouldn’t hurt the boss’s daughter… I don’t think.
When he could look at me again he said, “We’re leaving. Now.” He flicked his fingers between us. “You and me. We need to talk.”
“You mean, about that conversation we never finished?” My curiosity brewed under the wall of fear.
“Yes.” He glanced across the room.
The triplets glared at him. Their eyes suddenly went milky, and they peeled their lips back, flashing—oh my God—mouthfuls of sharp fangs.
I actually jumped, and Hayden said, “Let’s go.”
We were moving towards the back entrance, the one Trent had led us through, when I glimpsed a football uniform behind us. I looked back.
Derek had appeared at the bar. He was alone to my surprise, and his fingers looked pretty tightly wrapped around a martini glass. It seemed to be the trend this evening, for he too was staring at me with a frown. And when his eyes landed on Hayden, he too looked like he wanted to growl. The difference between him and my followers, however—besides the teeth—was that they had just looked annoyed.
Derek looked sort of… hostile. I was glad we were leaving.
14) Surreal
I
took a risk by unlocking Chanel’s car door and leaving her keys on the floor, but I didn’t know what else to do with them. I wanted her to be able to drive home, but there was no way I was going back inside the Viper and Vixen.
The summer evening reeked of fast food and car oil—which was way better than cigs and liquor if you ask me. Hayden was heading towards a shiny black Silverado across the way. It was the biggest truck in the parking lot.
I click-clacked after him in my heels. “Is that yours?” I asked. He pulled his keys from his back pocket and aimed them at the truck. It chirped in reply. “Yeah. Get in.”
The door was high enough that I had to use the silver stepping rod to pull myself in. The truck’s interior smelled like coffee and—once again—alcohol. It was different than what was in the V and V though, a familiar scent I couldn’t quite place. Upon buckling, I spotted a Kahlúa bottle wedged under the backseat.
“What are you? Eighteen and already drinking?” I crinkled my nose in distaste. “My dad would be displeased if he knew you were breaking the law. Should I trust you’re sober enough to drive?”
“You’re such a teenager, Rose,” he accused, shutting his door and reaching for the keys in the ignition. “Don’t be so fast to judge everything.”
“So, what? It’s not yours? Or are you over twenty one?” I folded my arms, wondering if he’d lied on his application.
“No, I’m not twenty one. And no, I don’t drink.” He started the noisy engine. “My friend and I share this truck sometimes. He drinks Kahlúa—obviously.”
Flashback. His blonde friend from Myspace came to mind. His screen name was King of Kahlúa. “You mean your blonde friend?” I asked. “Lea or something like that?”
Hayden snorted, steering the mini monster truck out of the lot. “It’s not Lea as in L-e-a. It’s Lea, as like, L-a-y,” he laughed, then went back to being serious. “And how’d you know that, anyway?”
I twitched. Oops. “Um. He smelled like Kahlúa the day he came into the shop. My mom drinks it sometimes,” I covered. “I recognized the smell.”
Silence. As he pulled out and away from the club—freedom at last!—I peeked to the side. He was smirking. “Nice save, genius,” he remarked.
I sunk in my seat. I thought so.
“So,” he sighed, relaxing a little. “Are you going to tell me how and what the heck you were doing in the Viper and Vixen? Especially on Halloween—their sluttiest night of the year?”
“I—” I stopped. I had no real explanation, no good excuse. “I was trying to please a friend… and I was supposed to be hanging
out with someone. But he got sick.”
“He got sick?” His eyebrows shot up. “I hope you weren’t going after some druggie or something.”
“He wasn’t from the Viper and Vixen!” I spat. “He’s from the high school. And like I said, he canceled on me last minute.”
“And you still went?” His face twisted even more. “I thought you had more brains than that.”
“I made a mistake, ok?! It’s hard for me to disappoint my friends!” I exhaled a loud breath. “No matter how much they annoy or ignore me.”
He hesitated while changing lanes. “You know, this is going to sound bad, but grow some balls. This is the second time you’ve been with that friend of yours and Adrian’s shown up!”
“I know, alright?” Jeez, I already felt dumb enough for going, why was he trying to make me feel worse? I wanted to tell him that just because I was a usual good girl didn’t mean I was flawless; we all had our share of stupidity at one time or another.
“Does darling daddy know where you are?”
“Don’t mock me. And no, he doesn’t. Please stop making me feel so bad.” My hands combed the front of my wig, making it itch. I dug my fingers in and ripped it off, my mess of blonde coming down like streamers.
He glanced sideways. For a split second his eyes traveled the length of my body, my short dress, then shot back to the road as I tilted my head towards him. “How’d you know I was there?” I wondered aloud. “How’d you know I was at the Viper and Vixen, anyway?”
He didn’t answer right away. “Because I’ve been keeping an eye on Adrian. Whenever he makes some sudden or different movement to an unusual place, I figure he’s hunt—… looking.”
I straightened up from my sulking, trying to read his face like I did with Dad. In the restaurant during the cell phone incident, it’d been easy. Now, it was extremely difficult.
“That’s the second time you’ve called it hunting. What does that mean, exactly?” The word made my stomach turn. “Are we talking about camping trip kind of hunting or… rapist kind of hunting?”
A Taste of Silver Page 15