by R. K. Lilley
Ouch. He hadn't been trying to be mean, but the pity in his voice was worse to me than just about anything else.
And I was furious again, that he didn't see her for who she was. For God's sake, she'd just spied on us having sex. Twice. And still he thought she was some innocent girl who wanted to be my friend.
I knew very damn well that Tiffany wanted nothing so much as for me to disappear forever. I knew it. In my gut. In that bitter little spot where instinct and hunches go to flourish.
Still, in this instance, my instincts did not seem to be enough for the both of us. I'd let him see for himself. "Fine," I gritted out. "What time?"
"The movie's at one thirty."
I tried not to grit my teeth when I realized he'd already planned the whole thing. With her.
I was about to lose my temper, but I held on to the very last thread of it as I spoke. "Fine," I said again, cursing him in a thousand different ways in my head. "I'll meet you there."
His brows drew together. "No. I'll take you, of course. What are you even thinking?"
"I'd like to be alone for a while," I said, trying to be reasonable when I wanted to scream at him. "I'll meet you there," I repeated.
"No," he repeated, making every thought about being reasonable fly right out of my head. "I'm not leaving you here," he said firmly. "Are you kidding me?"
"Glenda's passed out cold. It'd take a miracle to wake her up before four p.m. And besides that, I'm planning to lock myself in my room and read. If she gets up before I leave, I'll climb out the window. You don't need to worry about me."
He stood, the look on his face telling me that he was finally beginning to comprehend how badly he'd messed up. My last sentence had clued him in. "Don't. Scarlett, stop. I'll cancel, okay? Let's go to Gram's. I'm not leaving you here."
I raised my chin. "You are. Go. I'll meet you and Tiffany at the movies."
He started cursing, and I left him to it, locking myself in my room.
"How will you even get there?" he eventually asked me, voice muffled through the thin wall that separated us. He'd been standing there for a while. I pictured him clearly on the other side of it, eyes closed, leaning forehead first into the door.
I hated that question, hated that I didn't even have a way to get around, that I was so dependent on him, and had never even given it a thought until now, because we did everything together.
"Like I said, you don't need to worry about me," I told him with stilted bitterness. "I can figure out how to get to the movie theater without your help, Dante."
I just hadn't done it quite yet. I'd gotten my license, but I sure as hell didn't have a car. Could I borrow my grandma's and have it back before she woke up? I wondered.
She'd kill me, I decided instantly. She was absolutely possessive about her junker of a car. She'd only ever let me be a passenger in it maybe five times, let alone drive it myself. The thought was laughable.
Still, I wasn't backing down. I was too far gone. My temper was officially running the show.
Dante made a noise of utter frustration. "You know what? Fine. I'll be back to pick you up at one."
I wanted to punch the door. My fists were clenched in preparation for it. "Don't. I won't even be here by then. Like I said, I'll meet you there." My mouth was working independently of my brain, it seemed. I felt separate from the words, like they had more meaning for him than me.
This made sense, I supposed, because half of what I was saying was for effect alone. I really had no way to make it the thirty-minute drive to the movie theatre.
Eventually he left, and though I'd told him too, that did not help my temper at all.
It got worse the more I tried to calm it. Simmered hotter the more I tried to turn it off.
It was unfortunate that Reese McCoy just happened to call my house right when I'd nearly talked myself out of going at all.
Reese had been persistently pestering me for at least a year. I'd never encouraged him in any way whatsoever, but I knew he had a crush on me. He was a nuisance, but at least he was nice to me, which was more than I could say for most people.
"I told you not to call me again," I told him right away. It came out naturally. "I'll tell Dante that you're bothering me if you don't stop." I'd told him this at least a dozen times, but I'd yet to actually follow through. Dante would pulverize him, and I didn't truly believe that he was anything but harmless.
But then Reese, in his timid voice, said, "I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out, or whatever. We could, like, go to the mall, or whatever."
It was ridiculous of him to ask, but no one could fault his timing. On any other day, I'd have skewered him for asking.
But today, well, I really needed a ride. "Do you have a car?" I asked him.
I swear I felt him smile through the phone.
"Do you know Tiffany Vanderkamp?" I asked Reese when he picked me up in his old Toyota truck.
"That rich, new girl? Yeah, I've seen her. Doesn't she live close to here?"
Too close, I thought. "She does. Do you like her?"
He was driving by then, but he looked away from the road to shoot me a guarded look. "She's alright. Why?"
"She's going to be at the movies. Maybe you could take her out afterwards."
He chewed on his lip for a long while, finally getting up the courage to say, "I'd rather take you out afterwards."
I rolled my eyes. "You know I'm with Dante."
"Not right now you aren't. Right now you're in my truck, if you didn't notice."
That shut me up. I'd just gotten into a car with a guy I barely knew just to piss off Dante. I was helpless, and I'd done it to myself. The thought was sobering.
Luckily Reese didn't pull anything, taking me straight to the movies, like I'd asked, unaware that I was bringing him on a double date whether he liked it or not.
Or a trap, depending on how you looked at it.
But I wouldn't be letting him drive me home. Something in his tone had me worried. He was definitely less of a pushover than I'd always assumed.
Dante's reaction was predictably gratifying when I walked in the door with Reese.
He wouldn't even look at me. His cold eyes were on Reese. "Let's take this outside."
Tiffany, who'd been standing next to him, watched the guys leave, looking troubled.
"I tried to bring you a date," I told her. "I guess it didn't work out."
She studied me. "I don't mind being a third wheel."
I smiled at her and it was smug. One thing I could guarantee; Dante would stop setting her up to be my 'friend' now. "I mind. One thing I also mind is you watching us having sex. Do you even know how sad and pathetic that is? How desperate?"
Her nostrils flared. I'd finally found a crack in her fake pleasant facade. Good. I'd been looking for a while now.
"What can I say?" As she spoke, her voice changed, her entire demeanor did. It was fascinating and reminded me, like a lightbulb going on, of his mother. "He is awfully nice to look at, even if you did keep getting in the way of my view."
"Like I said, pathetic," I said in disgust, though deep down what I felt the most deeply was satisfaction. Finally she was showing her true colors. "Look your fill, but that's all you'll ever get."
"You really think that," she said slowly, tasting the words. "You're confident, I'll give you that. You're wild in bed, sure. But you're also a manipulative bitch. How long do you think that will keep him entertained? How long do you think it'll take him to realize he could do better?"
I really hated that her words made me ask myself that same question.
It was spooky how much it felt like I was speaking to his mother. Every nuance of her words was crafted in the same way. She had that precise, killer, imminent threat to every syllable of her speech. And exactly like Adelaide, she had a talent for pointing out an insecurity you didn't even know you had.
She created insecurities.
Just like with his mother, I held that against her. By this point, I had
a whole list.
"And when he does, I'll be right here," she continued. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'm very patient."
"He doesn't even think you're interested in him," I told her with incredulous hostility, though I wasn't sure who that was aimed at. Dante, most likely. The blind fool.
Yeah, okay, it was definitely aimed at him.
"Good," she said, the word filled with warm satisfaction. "I don't want him to. He'll come to me when he's ready. Just you watch."
I almost punched her, but I managed to maintain my composure enough to just walk away.
Dante came back inside sooner than I'd have thought possible, and looking mad enough to breathe fire, he strode right to me. "Okay," he gritted out. "Message received. We'll stay away from Tiffany, so long as you promise me you'll stay away from Reese McCoy."
"I promise," I told him solemnly, feeling like I'd finally, at last, been heard.
Sometimes drastic measures pay off.
"Let's get the hell out of here," he said, snagging my hand.
I smiled at Tiffany while he made our excuses, turning my head to hold her glaring gaze with delight as he wrapped a solicitous arm around my waist and pulled me outside.
I felt I'd won, because back then I didn't know it was more than a battle; it was a war.
It was sometime later, deep into the night, before I brought it up again.
Dante was in a much, much better mood by then. We were in the backseat of his Audi, parked deep in the woods, several miles from his house. He was on top of me, catching his breath, kissing my temple every so often, his big, firm, edible chest right in my face.
I wriggled underneath him, and it made him groan. He was still inside of me. "I need to get home," I told him.
"No," he said as he pulled out. "Not happening. I'm keeping you."
I was in a serious mood, but that made me smile. "Promises, promises."
He kissed me lightly. "Seriously, though. It's not right that we can't sleep together. There has to be a way. I'm moving in with Gram. I think you should, too."
"You think I wouldn't love that? But my grandma would never agree, and I'm not eighteen yet."
He kissed me again. "We'll find a way."
I didn't share his optimism, but I kept my peace.
He was driving me home when I asked, "She's crazy, you know that, right?"
"Who?"
"Tiffany." Duh.
He didn't roll his eyes, but it was close. "Yes, I'm aware you don't like her."
"She's a clone of your mother," I told him. Maybe that would get through to him.
It didn't. He just looked more annoyed. "Please. You're exaggerating. Tiffany is harmless."
Famous last words, I thought dramatically at the time.35
But I was more right than I knew.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Don't allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not."
~Paulo Coelho
PRESENT
SCARLETT
I woke up feeling strange. I was at home, in my own bed, but I didn't know what to do with myself. I checked my phone, saw several missed calls and texts from Bastian, and recalled that I'd promised to call him the day before.
Had an entire day passed? It didn't seem possible but it must have been. I'd woken up the day before in Seattle with a raging hangover and an aching heart.
What was I supposed to do now?
As though answering the question, my phone began to ring.
It was Bastian.
"Hey," I greeted him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding more worried than he should have.
Was I okay? No. Was I going to be? Who knew?
Not me.
"I'm fine," I told him. Girl code for don't ask a silly question, of course I'm not okay.
"I still need to do some digging around, and I have more questions for you, but I just needed to make sure you were all right."
"Where's Dante?" I asked.
"Here. Somewhere in Seattle, I believe. I'm going to try to find him today."
"Find him? You didn't tell me he was missing." It seemed like something that should have come up considering how much we'd talked that night.
"I told you he's been having a rough time."
I didn't bother to point out that one had nothing to do with the other.
"Listen," he told me somberly. "Don't do anything rash. Don't confront anyone. In fact, it would be best if you act as though everything is normal. I still have a lot of digging to do. The less they think we're onto them, the better."
I felt a little nauseated. This man was kicking a beehive, and he didn't understand, not fully, what was about to come out to swarm him.
But what he was doing—I needed it done.
"I won't confront anyone," I assured him. "Everything will stay normal on my end. Good luck. And . . . thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," he said, something hard entering his voice. "I'm doing this for myself as much as anyone. I'll be in contact soon."
I felt strangely better after we hung up, a little lighter.
My stomach grumbled and I realized I was hungry.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd had an appetite.
I was digging through the fridge, scrounging up breakfast, when Demi arrived home with some woman I'd never seen before. Both had armfuls of groceries.
Demi beamed when she saw me. "This is my friend, Moonbliss. We met at Om Nom Organics last week and hit it off."
To be fair, Demi hits it off with everyone. And if I guessed correctly, she'd just adopted another lonely person. They came from all walks of life.
I greeted her friend politely, even though I could tell with one glance that she was one of those.
Sallow complexion. Thin to an unhealthy degree. Wide, glassy eyes. Un-dyed, untreated, product-free, brown hair.
She was a vegan. No, worse. Much, much worse.
A juicer. A raw, vegan juicer.
Also, Moonbliss?
"Oh, you're having breakfast?" Demi noted. "Perfect timing! We're just about to cook something."
I eyed their reusable grocery bags dubiously. "What were you about to cook?"
Moonbliss looked horrified at our exchange. "Cook? Oh no. We don't cook. Cooked food is valueless food. We prepare."
I was too tickled with amusement to even think of rolling my eyes. "What were you about to prepare?"
"Green shakes."
"Sounds delicious," I said dryly.
Moonbliss didn't catch the sarcasm. "Oh, it's simply nirvana. I make it with goodness greens and activated almonds."
I was still mouthing 'activated almonds?' at a confused looking Demi when Moonbliss spoke again, "Would you like one, Scarlett? You look as though you could use some brain dust."
"Brain dust." I wasn't asking about it so much as trying the words out in my mouth. "Did you just say brain dust?"
"Wait, what? Are you serious? You don't partake of brain dust?"
Was I serious? It was getting harder and harder to give her straight answers, but the longer I let her go, the better the payoff. Clearly.
"Was it made by a virgin?" I asked, deadpan. "On the third day of a new cycle?"
Demi bit her lips to keep from laughing, looking away from me.
Moonbliss gave me a look that told me I'd just made her moon decidedly less blissful. "Do you want one or not?"
"Are you making anything else?" I asked hopefully. "Maybe something with solid food, or even meat?"
"I consider myself a purist," Moonbliss explained haughtily, "and there's nothing pure about meat."
"A good steak tastes purely awesome," I offered.
"I don't eat anything with a face. As humans, I think we've evolved past that. Don't you?"
I sure as hell hadn't. "Oh, me? I don't eat anything that points west. That's asking for trouble."
She studied me with narrowed eyes for a moment, then went back to her preparation.
I took a seat at one of the barst
ools lined up against the counter that faced into the kitchen. Amos crowded my legs, and I patted him absently. He licked my knee, and I let him, because he did it with love.
I felt a little bad for making fun of Moonbliss, so I said, "I'll take a green shake, thank you."
"Moonbliss has been teaching me to coo—prepare some amazing recipes," Demi told me brightly. "She's about to publish her first cookbook."
I was not the least bit surprised. "That's great. Congratulations. What's the name of it? I'll be sure to pick it up."
"My Soul Mission is Raw: Healing the Wounds in the Universe One Human Digestive Track at a Time."
I blinked. "That's a mouthful. Oh look, I made a pun."
Even Moonbliss laughed at that. I guess even she liked puns.
"This shake is best complemented with an hour of Kundalini yoga," she explained to us.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I actually did know what that was.
"But there's simply no time today. Tomorrow morning, Demi?"
"Sure," Demi said. Damn, she was a good sport.
"Want to join us for yoga tomorrow?" Demi invited me.
Yoga had never worked for me. I was a boot camp fitness kind of girl. Running, pushups, sit-ups, squats. Things that hurt but did the job. I kept it simple.
"Oh, no thanks," I said blandly. "I like to do mind yoga."
"Mind yoga?" Moonbliss asked, rightfully suspicious.
"I just think about it really hard until the results manifest themselves."
At least it cracked Demi up. Can't please everybody.
It took Moonbliss for-freaking-ever to make the shakes. She talked us through every step, but it was so complicated that I doubted I'd retain one bit of it.
There was no sugarcoating it—the shake was horrible—everything from the color, to the taste, to the texture—but I drank it anyway. It was worth the price of admission for this crazy train.
Also, I'd been treating my body like hell lately and it couldn't hurt to start remedying that. Baby steps back to being a normal human again.
As we drank, Moonbliss (she opened up and admitted her parents had actually named her that—poor girl had never had a chance) walked us through her day to day eating. It sounded very time-consuming and confusing to me, and I liked cooking.