The Homecoming Masquerade

by Baum, Spencer

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” she said, a lie. She knew lots of other places she could have gone. With Ryan out of play, she needed to be spending her time on other prospects. The trouble was, she wanted to talk to Ryan.

  “You should figure something out,” Ryan said. “You need somebody with money taking an interest in you. Right now it’s not me.

  “That’s just it,” Nicky said. “If it isn’t you, I don’t know who it is.”

  “We need to come up with somebody pronto, because if we don’t, you and an immortal version of Kim Renwick are going to be put together in a cage next spring, and I don’t care how much of a bad ass you think you are, you’re not going to survive.”

  “We need to come up with something?” Nicky said.

  “Yes, we do. Just because I can’t help you doesn’t mean I want to see you lose. Tell me who you’ve got so far. Who is going to support you? Who is going to your after-party?”

  No one yet, Nicky thought. The plan was structured so that intermission was the time that Jill made her big move, and tried to close the deal with Annika.

  “I don’t know,” Nicky said. “The truth is, I’m telling everyone that lots of people are coming to my party, but I don’t know if anyone is really planning to.”

  “That’s a problem,” said Ryan.

  “I know it is,” said Nicky.

  “What about Marshall Beaumont?” Ryan said. “He’s not rich enough to swing the contest, but he’s somebody.”

  “He’s on my list,” Nicky said.

  “Then you should go find him now,” said Ryan.

  “I don’t want to.”

  Ryan smiled. “Yeah, I don’t want you to either. That guy’s weird.”

  They laughed. Ryan, who was the only person at the bar who wasn’t gulping from a wine glass, took a sip of water. Nicky looked around the ballroom to see who was where.

  She saw Marshall off by himself in a corner in the back, perfectly placed for her to approach him right now. But she stayed put. Marshall would become important later, after Brawl in the Fall, but he wasn’t crucial right now, and she didn’t want to leave Ryan. As useless as he was if he was going to support Kim, it was nice to talk to him. It was nice to take a break from all the espionage.

  She saw Annika, a near-empty wine glass in her hand, a crowd all around her. Annika was telling a funny story, and had everyone in stitches.

  She saw Jill, standing just outside Annika’s crowd, waiting for her moment to strike, and thought about how much better it was to be Nicky Bloom, a fictional character, rather than Jill Wentworth, having to play herself. Nicky got to stay in full play-acting mode, which made it easy to present all the lies she was telling as truth. Jill, in contrast, was straddling the line between fact and fantasy. She had been Jill Wentworth, the rich daughter of a rich family, long before she was a Network operative, and had to reconcile the person she was with the person she now pretended to be. When she told her story about the secret consortium behind Nicky’s entrance, she did so knowing full well that it would have repercussions in all facets of her life. It would cause waves with her parents, with her aunts and uncles, her cousins – people she had known since she was a little child. People with whom she once had been truthful, but now had to lie. Lying to people you know was so much harder than lying to strangers, and to Nicky, most everyone in this ballroom was still a stranger.

  “You know, that was really awesome what you did to Art Tremblay,” said Ryan.

  “Thanks. It was surprisingly easy.”

  “You made Kim so angry. Did you see her stomp out the front door? She knew she was going to blow her top at you, and she knew that wouldn’t help her cause at all, so you made her flee. Good grief that was sweet. Serves Art right for trying that crap. How much you wanna bet that Kim is reaming that guy a new one outside as we speak?”

  “I’m sure she is,” said Nicky, “and he’ll just put up with it. It’s so sad.”

  “Where else is he going to go? He has to support Kim, because if she wins this and he was supporting someone else, then he’ll have an immortal who hates him.”

  “He needs to believe that someone else can win this,” Nicky said.

  “We all do,” said Ryan. “You’re doing okay in here tonight, Nicky, but I don’t think you’ve got anyone convinced yet that you really have a chance. You need to get out of this corner where we’re hiding and work the room some. I expect people are interested in talking to you, if nothing else than to hear your take on what just happened with Art and Rosalyn.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Nicky said. “Can you come with me?”

  “No, I’m already being careless just talking to you,” Ryan said. “If people tell Kim we were sitting together…well, you know how it goes. We need to separate. See you around, Nicky Bloom.”

  Ryan pushed himself away from the bar. As he turned to leave, he allowed his hand to brush against Nicky’s, and, ever so quickly he gave her fingers a squeeze. It was a tiny gesture, the most he could do without being seen, but to Nicky it was huge. At that moment, she wished all of this silliness could just go away, that Thorndike Academy, the immortals, the Network, and everything else that had Nicky and Ryan going in opposite ways could be pushed aside so she and Ryan could keep on talking. So she could keep on being herself, even if it was only for a little while.

  18

  “Yes, Nicky Bloom. The one who got Shannon’s spot. The girl we worked so hard to get in here. We totally screwed up on that one. We practically handed her the opening on a silver platter, and this is how she repays us.”

  Kim was half-way down the drive in front of the mansion, holding a phone to her ear, weaving in between the array of stretch limousines parked all around.

  “You’re saying the new girl wore black to Homecoming?”

  “Yes, Daddy. The new girl. The one you and all your investigators thought was the safest bet. The only girl from all the applicants that you were certain would have no interest in Coronation. How much money have you thrown around to make sure you knew who was entering? How could you miss this?”

  “Interesting.”

  Interesting? What the fuck was wrong with him? This wasn’t interesting. This was disastrous.

  As a girl wearing black, Kim’s limo was parked close to the mansion. She opened the back door and stepped inside. Her driver turned back to see if she needed anything. She slammed the privacy screen closed.

  Rockwell Transport had a fleet of stretch limos they kept on reserve just for Thorndike events. Fifty of them in all, custom made to cater to the unique needs of the girls in Thorndike’s senior class.

  While the guys could come to Homecoming in whatever transportation they desired (and most of them selected more flashy ways to drive about than stretch limos – it was not uncommon for their parking area to be full of Italian sports cars) it had become tradition for the girls to arrive in limousines. A single limo for every one of them. The backs of those limos were designed to serve as mobile dressing and storage rooms between Homecoming and the after parties. There was a rack on which to hang their clothes, automatic blinds to cover up the windows, a vanity area with a large mirror and a complete supply of makeup, a locking jewelry chest, and, most importantly, a combination safe where the girls could put their masks during the after-parties. In addition to all this, the drivers of the limos were professional security and ex-cops. They were armed and ready to defend the property inside, a necessity since the value of the gold and diamonds in some of the masks exceeded a hundred grand.

  “How does this girl seem?” Kim’s father asked.

  “Like a total bitch,” Kim said.

  Her father laughed.

  “I don’t know what you think is so funny.”

  “Kim, you’re telling me that a new girl who isn’t even from town has just waltzed into the Homecoming masquerade wearing a black dress and is acting like a total bitch. I don’t understand why you’re even upset. This might be a good thing. Clearly, this g
irl doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. She does know what she’s doing. They’re all talking about her. She’s messed up everything. Don’t you get it? Nobody wants me to win. They’re only supporting me because they think I’ve already won and are scared of what I might do to them once I’m immortal. But this new girl already has everyone excited. People are talking about going to her after-party rather than mine.”

  “Where’s her after-party?”

  “At the Hamilton. Jada Razor is performing there.”

  “I find it hard to believe--”

  “Believe it! Jada Razor is performing at Nicky Bloom’s party. Why didn’t you get a pop star for my party?”

  “Kim, we got you the White House.”

  “Who gives a flying fuck about the White House?”

  “People aren’t going to skip your party just to see Jada Razor.”

  “No, but when they hear she’s coming to Nicky’s they wonder, don’t they? Hell, I wonder. Who is backing Nicky Bloom? Where did she come from? And if she can get Jada Razor to perform at her after-party, what else can she do?”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “Damn right it’s a good point! I swear, I’m the only one with my eyes open. You and mom and all your investigators and lawyers and other bullshit and you didn’t even see this coming. It’s clear as day what’s happened here. We thought we had this whole contest wrapped up because nobody was challenging us…in the open. But all this time, there’s been this secret group with their own candidate, and they got her in right under our noses.”

  “Who is it? Who’s behind her?”

  “How should I know? That’s your job. The problem, Daddy, is that you and mom got lazy. The problem is you got all cozy with Daciana and thought it meant--”

  “Kim, you need to stop. You’re panicking over nothing.”

  “Easy for you to say! You don’t get locked in a cage if you lose!”

  “If you lose, I’m just as dead as you are. The way I’ve behaved these past ten years, anything less than first place for you and I’m a dead man. Whoever wins would make sure of it. So don’t speak to me like I’m not as vested in this as you are. I have just as much to lose.”

  Kim didn’t argue. It was true, of course. There wasn’t a soul in Washington who wouldn’t love to see Galen Renwick go down in flames. It was only their fear of him, of what he could do, that kept the Renwicks safe. If people began to believe there wasn’t reason to be afraid, it was over for all of them.

  Thinking about all this made her feel better. Not that she was any more confident in her daddy’s ability to fix this mess. It just felt good to know that she wouldn’t be the only one killed.

  “We will adapt, Kim. You may have thought this would be an easy road from start to finish, but I’ve always known otherwise. Nothing is easy in Washington.”

  “So what do we do?” Kim asked.

  “We start with this after-party. We make sure people come to your party rather than hers. You’re going to get back in that ballroom and work it. Anybody you think might ditch your party – you confront them directly. You ask them if they’ll have a drink with you at your party. Make them give you a commitment, right to your face. These kids are drunk and confused tonight, but they know enough not to insult you outright.”

  “Okay. I can do that. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll get started on Nicky Bloom. We’ll find something eventually, I’m sure. You just relax, Kim. Now more than ever it’s time to show confidence. If the others sense you’re afraid...”

  He was right. She had allowed Nicky Bloom to rattle her, which only made things worse. It was time to take back control. She was Kimberly Fucking Renwick, for God’s sake, and she was allowing some no-name nobody to mess with her. Not anymore.

  She hung up with her daddy and walked back up the driveway, finding Art and Rosalyn standing on the stoop. Art had removed his wine-soaked jacket. Rosalyn, whose outfit was ruined, had covered up with a trench coat and was sobbing.

  Pathetic.

  “Kim, I’m sorry. She twisted--”

  “Shut up Art before you bury yourself even further. What’s the use of all that time in the gym if you’re so weak a girl can spin you like a top?”

  “She caught me at a weird angle. Let me--”

  “Shut up I said! I don’t want to hear your voice.”

  Rosalyn let out a whimper. It occurred to Kim that right now she was now doing the opposite of what her father had suggested.

  Whatever. Rosalyn and Art were coming to her party regardless. As were Amy, Pauline, Josette, Brian, Andrea, Colin, Otis, Remy, and twenty-some others. All the richest kids in school, whose families were either indebted to Kim’s dad or compelled to behave because of some dirty secret in their past. Even the worst case scenario left Kim with all the power players.

  Including Ryan. That was her ace in the hole. Clearly, the new girl thought she had Ryan all wrapped up. Surprise, Nicky Bloom! At Thorndike, you can bat your eyelashes at the pretty boy all you want. That kind of stuff might have worked at whatever Podunk high school she came from, but in DC it was about the dirt. It was about the trade. You want something from me, I want something from you. And what Ryan wanted from Kim was to keep her mouth shut about a certain secret that she and only she knew.

  It made Kim happy to think about how she’d already spoiled what was probably a big part of Nicky Bloom’s strategy. But she couldn’t get cocky. There were many others who wouldn’t hesitate to back the new girl if they thought she had even the slightest chance. Those were the people she had to talk to.

  “What time is it Rosalyn?”

  Rosalyn perked up at the question, as if in a few words all might be forgiven.

  “Four minutes after ten,” she said.

  Six minutes of intermission left. Enough time to get started on what her daddy suggested. Enough time to find some important people, people who might be thinking about going to Nicky’s after-party, and make sure they remained loyal to Kim.

  The doorman allowed Kim back into the mansion. Right away, she saw someone to approach.

  Marshall Beaumont was someone Kim expected to support her even though she hadn’t really expended any effort on him. He was exactly the sort who might leave her given the chance. She would start with him, then, one by one, she would get in the faces of every student who was a flight threat, and she would make them promise to her that they were coming to her party.

  “Kim, oh…hi, how are you?” Marshall said.

  “Wonderful, thank you,” said Kim. “Will I see you at my party tonight?”

  19

  Jill stood just a few feet away from Annika, looking on like everyone else. It was a sight that had become commonplace among the senior class – Annika Fleming telling a story to a group of onlookers, all of them entranced. The girl could work a crowd.

  The story now was about Annika’s Uncle Charlie, “a Nebraska hick from the deepest, emptiest parts of the corn country,” who somehow ended up at a charity gala in Oklahoma City and hysterics ensued.

  The crowd for Annika’s story included all the usual suspects from her gang, but also a good collection of new faces, people who had their own crowds to hang with but loved a good story so they stayed to listen. Isabella and Pauline, Emily and Dana, the McGuire twins – all of them were gathered just behind the bar, forming a half-circle around Annika, and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

  Annika was in rare form tonight. Her joyous charisma was completely cut loose by the wine and all the pent-up energy of her peers, who were eager to find a reason to be happy on this night, which was supposed to be one of the best of their lives. As Jill watched this virtuoso performance, she thought about what a difference a few months can make. She remembered how Annika was in early June, when Shannon’s death in a boating accident was still fresh on everybody’s mind. Shannon had been one of Annika’s closest friends, and for a time after her death, there was no
place in Annika’s heart for boisterous storytelling and drunken laughter.

  The funeral for Shannon Evans and her parents, who had also died in the accident, began at St. Andrew’s Cathedral and processed to the Evans family cemetery in Alexandria, where a bronze memorial statue was unveiled. The memorial was a three-sided pylon, each side bearing a plaque for one member of the family. It was a small memorial by the standards of the social sphere in which the Evans family lived, so much so that Jill couldn’t help but wonder if the survivors were being purposefully discrete. In Washington, the deceased were either celebrated or forgotten, and the way Shannon’s surviving family had put together the memorial, it looked like Shannon and her parents were going to be forgotten.

  Forgotten wasn’t the glamorous way to go, but it was much safer for the survivors. All too often in DC, an early death meant someone had raised the ire of an immortal. In the case of Shannon and her parents, that was almost certainly the case.

  On the day they died, the Evans family took their yacht, The Lavender Rose, on an unscheduled outing. They made no arrangements with the pier to have the boat prepared, they didn’t hire any deckhands, and they didn’t commission a captain. They just showed up before sunrise and took the boat into the open water, riding past the buoys even though a storm was coming in.

  The call for help came from Shannon’s dad. At the time he made the call, the weather was bad, but not so bad that an experienced sailor couldn’t navigate through it. When the Coast Guard arrived and the boat was nowhere to be found, their first assumption was that Shannon’s dad had navigated his way to calmer waters. It wasn’t until a day later that divers were employed.

  They pulled up The Lavender Rose with a four foot hole in its bow. Shannon and her parents were pronounced dead.

  All of this would have been considered strange in a normal town, but in DC, no one dared ask the questions that immediately came to mind. Questions like: Why was the Evans family in such a hurry to take out their boat? Where were they going? Why didn’t they hire any help if they were going so far off the coast? Why didn’t they check the weather before they left?