by Ari Rhoge
“Excuse me? Kick my ass. Honey, I will take you down—”
A van had already parked at the curb, its engine still running. Lydia was looking over her sister's shoulder hopefully, as the bandmates scooted in, laughing and tossing their instrument cases into the trunk. Lydia's green eyes were comically wide and begging. Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest. “That's a white, unmarked van. Mom told us not to go into those.”
“Oh, please. I thought Jane was supposed to be the maternal buzzkill,” Lydia scoffed. “Lizzy, you surprise me — normally you'd be all into this. —— Is it that guy?”
“No! Y—no. It's a long story,” said Elizabeth.
“He's looking at you now.” Lydia's mouth stretched into a slow smile. “Oops, caught — just looked away. You told me you weren't seeing anyone.”
“I'm not!” Elizabeth all but squeaked, defiantly.
She looked over her shoulder. Georgiana was back outside, and Will was talking to her again, rubbing the side of his face, and smirking at something she had said. His eyes locked with Lizzy's, and he gave a slow, friendly smile. He even waved. Lizzy politely smiled back. Wow, this is awkward.
“So, there's nothing there?” prompted Lydia.
“No — nothing.”
“Friend of a friend?”
“Friend of a friend.”
“Then, go.”
“Fine!” Lizzy glowered. “Fine — we'll go!”
Lydia yelped in happiness, and bounced on the balls of her feet, tugging her sister in for a hug. And Elizabeth wondered miserably why her life was punishing her for a single night out.
18
—
Collision: Part II
This night is winding down but time means nothing
As always at this hour, time means nothing
One final, final round 'cause time means nothing
Say that you'll stay
Say that you'll stay
After Hours - We Are Scientists
• • •
Will felt a little like a fraud. He felt the corners of his lips turn up, and his mouth form around all the appropriate words, at all the appropriate times — Mr. Cavalier himself. Was he trying too hard? Did Lizzy think he was trying too hard? He took a sip of his water, and felt anticipation crawl unnervingly up his spine. Also, if his little sister could stop giving him the stink-eye, he would feel a little less like an asshole.
“Georgie, stop giving me the stink-eye.”
Georgie had been side-eyeing him perceptively for about 10 minutes. She pursed her lips to keep from giggling. “It's just a little weird, you agreeing with everything everybody says. You're so—” She drummed her fingers against her chin, thoughtfully. “— What's that word… agreeable.”
“Point for you,” he mumbled. “I do not agree with everything.”
“Yeah? I called you an assface a little while back, and you nodded,” Georgie said, chortling and grinning. “Nodded, Will! Just so you wouldn't seem confrontational!”
Will scowled, then remembered not to.
Across the circular table sat the rest of Georgie's friends, thankfully oblivious to this conversation. Shoshanna was their drummer, a pretty Israeli girl, with black ringlets tied back with a fluorescent neon bandana. Nathan — well, Will still didn't know much about Nathan, except that he lived in Chelsea, played the acoustic guitar quite well, and had drunkenly gotten a tattoo of a white tiger on his 22nd birthday. He never said where, but Will highly suspected it was a tramp stamp.
He liked Gabe best — Gabe the ginger — because he had known him longest. Gabe was an old roommate of Richard from his university days in London — he had introduced him to the band when they were in dire need of a bassist. Gabe was smart and pleasant and… Lydia Bennet was sort of coiled around him now, even though he had just mentioned his girlfriend for the third time that evening.
Will's eyes kept falling back on Elizabeth, who was frowning at the menu thoughtfully, wondering what she could afford. He felt himself smile reflexively, then stop, because Georgie was looking right at him. But he couldn't help himself. This was… well, this was unbelievable. Here she was. Lizzy Bennet. Elizabeth Bennet. With him. Well, with them. In Manhattan, near Battery Park. She had been at his sister's gig, tonight of all nights, and Will suddenly found it difficult to believe in coincidences anymore.
After what had happened at Rosings, he was 90 percent sure he would never see her again. He remembered the dread that curled tightly in his stomach and made him feel sick, and all that came afterward — the rush of all the things he should have said, and could have done, to make the outcome of that night less of a car wreck than it had been. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
The letter had been a wholehearted attempt to correct himself. He wondered how she had reacted to it.
Lizzy, feeling his eyes on her, lifted her gaze from the menu. A blush worked its way across her cheeks, and she looked back down.
“Will, are you listening?”
“What?” He glanced up. “Oh, sorry. —— No.”
Gabe smiled at him, and asked him for the bread bowl again.
Across the table, Elizabeth Bennet was in hell.
It was shiny, five-star, polished hell, and the waiters were very obliging, even though the hotel restaurant was forced to stay open an additional two hours to accommodate the Darcys and company — she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. It felt snooty. Will knew the head chef. Of course he did — people with money know other people with money.
She was struck by her own bitchiness. Why are you being such a brat about this? You probably don't even have to pay. Count your lucky, debt-ridden stars.
She perused the menu prices anyway, and felt her eyebrows rocket up and stay there. “Holy shit on toast.”
Nathan nudged her with his elbow. “I don't think they serve that 'ere,” he joked, through a mouthful of bread.
Lydia was still flirting heavily with Gabe. Poor Gabe. He really didn't have a defense against girls like her. He was cute, and he was a musician, and he was British. And he was way too nice, trying all variants of “er, I have a girlfriend,” instead of “fuck off.” Then again, Lizzy didn't feel too sorry for him. He had blown her cover when she was spying on the Darcys — if he had never bumped into her, she wouldn't be in this predicament right now. This terrible, terrible predicament. Where the food is complimentary and delicious, and you're in a luxury hotel with a group of talented, interesting people.
“Stupid girl.”
Will Darcy was looking at her. Again. This had happened in their acquaintance before, but now he tended to smile at her when they made eye contact, lovely and friendly and polite. She didn't know how to deal with this — with him. He was being so nice. Why was he being so nice? Was he burying the hatchet? She didn't bury hatchets. This hatchet could not be buried — this hatchet jutted from the ground, blade up.
Lizzy glanced up at him again. Darcy was speaking to Gabe, and he chuckled lowly at something he had said. She wanted Will to say something dry, something moody, and distinctly Darcyish, that she could twist around and fire back at him. She could work with that.
Then again, maybe it was silly of her to think that things could revert to how they were before Charlotte's wedding. The nature of their relationship had changed the minute he kissed her.
“Did you enjoy it?” Georgiana asked her. Startled, Lizzy refocused her attention, but the younger girl had an air of smug sweetness about her now — she had caught Lizzy staring at her brother.
“I'm sorry?”
“The concert. —— Did you enjoy it?” Georgie repeated.
“Oh! Yeah,” said Lizzy, smiling. “I stole a set list right before you guys left… you know, to look up your album on the internet and download the songs illegally.”
Lydia untangled herself from Gabe long enough to cheekily add, “he may or may not be kidding on that one.”
“Wow. Piracy. Way to support us,” Shoshanna said, sniffing. Elizabeth tipped her glass of
water in her honor, and took a sip. The drummer smirked.
“You liar. I saw you buy our CD in the lobby, just before you left,” Gabe insisted. He was beaming widely. “Then I high-fived you. We had a moment.” At this, Lizzy slumped in her chair and sulked, and he started to laugh — which reminded Lydia to renew her affections. She threaded her arm through his.
“Fine, fine — maybe I sometimes support you cute little underground bands before you sell out.”
“Here's hoping,” muttered Shoshanna.
“Well, that means you liked us,” Georgie responded, satisfied. “I'm glad. I've been told that you're difficult to impress.”
There was a flicker of a moment where Will and Lizzy met eyes across the table again. This time, it was Will's turn to blush. He took a long gulp of his water.
“She's really not that difficult to impress — she thinks everything is funny,” said Lydia, with a giggle. Elizabeth remembered she was a little tipsy, before her little sister nudged her. “Remember that toilet-paper commercial? You cracked the fuck up!”
“Lyddie, that was you.”
Lydia hesitated. “Oh, right. Hey! When you guys covered Radiohead, that sounded more like Cake. Except you're not a dude. Was that intentional?”
“Not really, no.”
Lydia began to giggle. “Wow.”
Will raised his eyebrows, amused. “Is she… ?”
“Pissed? I think so,” said Gabe, removing her hand from his. “Listen. You're a very pretty girl, but you're quite drunk. Maybe it's time to take you home.”
“Where's home?” purred Lydia. Before he could answer, she started brushing back his hair. “Your hair. Your hair looks like pennies. Did you know that some people are afraid of gingers? That whole gingers-have-no-souls thing?”
“What?” Gabe snorted.
Their waiter swung by again to take their order. When it was Lizzy's turn, she smiled up at him. “Hi. Um — nothing to eat, thanks. Not very hungry. Just two coffees —— regular.” To Lydia, she murmured, “I need some caffeine before the drive home.”
“Oh, you have to try the lobster bisque. —— And the filet mignon,” encouraged Nathan. “Come on, get Will for all he's worth, he agreed to pay for dinner weeks ago.”
“I did,” said Will, shrugging.
“Daddy Warbucks,” Gabe said, simpering, jutting out his lower lip.
“I'll hit you.”
Georgie started to giggle.
“I can't.” Lizzy smiled, despite herself. “It's late. I'm not that hungry. And I'm sure Lydia isn't—”
“I'll have the steak — medium rare, just a touch of pink. Also, a side of mashed potatoes and green beans,” Lydia counted off, practically batting her eyelashes. “Oh, and a bowl of the lobster bisque. —— And a ginger ale.”
Elizabeth sighed, and ordered the soup as well.
By the time they got up to the suite, she was sleepy, and sated with delicious food and wine. Lizzy couldn't remember who was staying here — she thought maybe just the girls, Georgie and Shoshanna, though the latter had vanished with Nathan for a pharmacy run. They were in the Diamond Suite, luxurious with its scarlet, velvety curtains, marble tiles, canopy king-size bed, and— “Holy fuck… is that a baby grand?”
Gabe was already sitting on the bench, plucking out scales. He beamed at her. “Do you play?”
“God, no,” Lizzy snorted, leaning across the black, polished wood. She ran her fingers off the edges — not a dust particle in sight. “My mother tried to get me to take piano lessons. I wish I had more patience as a kid.”
“Will plays some —— don't you, Will?” hollered Gabe, across the room. Lizzy turned. Will was nowhere to be seen. “Oh. Whoops. He probably popped outside for a second.”
“I didn't know he played,” said Elizabeth, quietly.
“Mm,” Gabe said, shrugging. Lizzy recognized the slow, imprecise notes to a Mozart piece. She watched Gabe for a moment, and, emboldened, suddenly asked him, “do you really have a girlfriend back home?”
Gabe stopped playing, and looked up at her sheepishly. “No. —— It's my defense against groupies.” A beat. “Sorry, that's quite optimistic. Future groupies, then.”
“But the whole point of being a musician is that you're kind of obligated to enjoy groupies,” said Lizzy, laughing. “And Lydia's not a groupie! —— I think.” Gabe's eyebrows rose skeptically, and Elizabeth chuckled. “I'm a terrible sister. She's just really into you — that's all I'm saying. Even before she got a little drunk.”
Gabe shook his head, and smirked. “I'll call her when she's sobered up.”
“I think she's better when she's buzzed,” Lizzy muttered, and Gabe began to laugh.
“Are you staying the night?” he asked her, patting the bench beside him. Elizabeth took a seat, and stared at the ivory keys.
“Um… I had hoped not to, but—”
“'Cause, you know, Will's probably downstairs in the lobby booking you a room as we speak.”
She sighed, heavily. Is it wrong to be pissed off at a person for his generosity?
“I know,” said Gabe, intuitively. “Makes you feel a bit like shit, doesn't it? These Darcys. —— But, truthfully, you couldn't find a nicer, more decent family. I thought it was only Richard who had a heart of gold — but then I keep meeting his relatives, and I'm always floored by how good they are.”
“You know Richard?”
“Of course,” Gabe said, nodding. “Ex-roommate, back when we were living in Hammersmith. He set me up with Peaches in the first place, when my own band fell apart. —— You've met him?”
“Yeah,” Lizzy said, laughing. She was surprised by how much she suddenly missed Richard, and his stupid, grinning face, missed the jabs and jokes at her expense. Perhaps he had been the only thing that had gotten her through Rosings. “Yeah, I met Richard,” she murmured, staring at the keys once more. She plucked out the first three notes of Ode to Joy before giving up. “Guess I'm staying, then! Even though Lydia's already asleep.”
Gabe looked across the room.
Her younger sister was curled up on the sofa, her heels abandoned on the floor and her legs curled up to her chest. Lydia's bright-blond hair partially obscured her face, and her mouth hung open a bit — Lizzy was tempted to brush it back behind her ears. She snored softly, then stopped, stirring.
Will shut the door behind him, and tossed a set of keys in Lizzy's direction. She caught them, startled, and he smiled. “Nice catch.”
“Where's your sister?” asked Gabe.
“Taking a phone call.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“This one clocked out early.” Gabe nodded his head in Lydia's direction.
Will looked. “Oh.”
10 minutes later, Lizzy could think only of how odd it was to see Will Darcy carrying her baby sister across the hallway to their room. She was weirdly touched by it, until Lydia wrapped her arms around Will's neck and sleepily slurred, “you smell clean.”
A beat. “Thanks.”
When Lydia was safely in bed, Lizzy brushed her hair back, and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders. Her mascara was smudged, and she would possibly die of embarrassment in the morning when she found out that Gabe had seen her this way (but would then be redeemed when she discovered that his girlfriend was imaginary). For now, Elizabeth felt a pang of affection for her younger sister, especially when she squeezed her hand and mumbled, “I love you, Lizzy.”
“Love you too, kiddo.” She bent over, kissed her cheek. “Sleep it off.”
Will had stepped outside on the balcony to give them privacy. Elizabeth slid the glass door open, and joined him a moment later. He looked over his shoulder, and half-smiled at her. “All okay?”
“Yeah, she's fine. A full night's rest and some strong coffee in the morning — I think she'll pull through.”
“She's nothing like you, you know.”
“I know.” Lizzy chuckled, under her breath, and leaned out across the railing
. “We both have green eyes, but that's about it. I like being with her, though — she makes me seem like the sensible one.”
He didn't say anything. She chewed on her bottom lip.
Down below them, the traffic had whittled down. Lizzy watched a taxi just make it before a yellow light switched to red. She tilted her head to regard Will. He was looking at his hands, gripping the black railing. She wondered what he was thinking about. “Thanks for the room,” Elizabeth finally said. “I'll pay you back.”
“Don't worry about—”
“I will pay you back,” Lizzy repeated, firmly.
Darcy smirked at her, and she felt a spike of something run up her spine — adrenaline or anticipation, she couldn't tell the difference. She couldn't quite comprehend the expression on his face either. Lizzy glanced out across the skyline again, simply because it was safe.
Silence fell like a blanket around them, and she would have given anything to break it, under ordinary circumstances. But Lizzy didn't want to address the elephant in the room — what was she supposed to say?
Will dragged his hand sleepily across his face. He folded his arms against the railing, and rested his chin against them. “What a long night,” he said, wearily.
“Yeah,” mumbled Lizzy. “Where did you fly in from?”
“Toronto.”
“Globetrotter, you.”
“Yeah, Canada's a real hike.” Will grinned.
Lizzy found herself laughing. “What were you there for?”
“Oh, you know, hockey games and maple syrup — what else?”
“I should have known. Way to utilize those stereotypes.”
Darcy laughed, and Lizzy found herself smiling as reflex. Am I flirting with Will Darcy? Or is this an out-of-body experience? She promised herself that she would stop. What if she gave him the wrong idea? Lizzy frowned. Take it easy.
“So,” Will started, his voice low. “About this elephant in the room—”
“Ugh, please don't,” Lizzy begged, resting her forehead against her folded hands. “I'll die,” she mumbled.
“Speaking of which, can you not lean out across the railing?” Darcy asked, suddenly.