by S. L. Stacy
She nods. “We’ve been talking about it a lot since school started back up. He says he understands that I want to wait, but I really don’t think he does. I know he’s offended. I would be. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We’ve been dating for a year. I know he loves me, but every time we’re fooling around and it starts to go too fast, I freeze up. I stop.” She grabs a tissue from the nightstand and dabs her wet cheeks. “What’s wrong with me, Siobhan?”
“Nothing.” I take her hand and squeeze it. “Nothing is wrong with you. Everybody’s different. There’s nothing wrong with waiting. With making sure. You’re first time should be special.” Carly opens her mouth like she’s going to interject something, then purses her lips back together, waiting for me to continue. “Alec should respect that. He shouldn’t say or do anything to pressure you.”
“He’s not. I don’t even know why I’m so upset,” she admits, balling up the tissue. “Every time I tell him we’re going too fast, he stops, and we cuddle. I can see in his eyes that he’s disappointed, though.”
“Well, he’s just going to have to get over it and wait until you’re ready.”
Carly smiles, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “I like that attitude. Thanks for the pep talk—and for not making me feel like such a freak. I know my experience is a little different from yours.”
“It’s not that different,” I insist.
“You’ve been with a lot of guys.”
“I’ve only had sex with two guys. Two! Max and…and Jasper,” I falter, looking down at the eyelet comforter.
“It’s okay, you know. To miss him.”
“I don’t miss him. I’d be a horrible person if I missed him.”
Carly shrugs, a wan, bleak smile on her face. “You’re only human.” Her brow furrows as she considers what she just said. “Well…you know what I mean.”
I glance at the digital clock on her nightstand. “We should hustle.”
We get to our feet. On her way out the door, Carly pauses in front of her full-length mirror.
“There’s something about this.” She runs a finger underneath the gold chain as though it’s too tight, even though it hangs loosely around her neck. “Something I don’t like. I’m not sure what it is.”
I look over her shoulder at the shield pendant’s reflection glittering innocuously in the mirror. Sparks of red, blue and purple smolder inside the black opal. As I stare, the slivers of color seem to expand and spiral. The shield pulses almost imperceptibly, like a tiny, golden heart—
“Siobhan?” Carly’s voice tears my attention away from the hypnotic necklace. Her baby blue eyes peer expectantly through the fog of her curls. Even the picture of Prince on her t-shirt has a questioning eyebrow raised at me. “Do you want to…try it on?”
I reach for it. “I wants it. The precioussss,” I hiss to break the tension.
Carly laughs, dropping her hand from the necklace. “One necklace to rule them all?”
“You know, Carly, you’re the only one in the house who truly gets me,” I say as we go out into the hall. “Seriously, though. Don’t wear it if you don’t like it.”
“I don’t want to hurt Alec’s feelings,” she says. “Besides, I’m just letting Liz get to me. I’m so paranoid. It’s just a necklace.”
***
Carly and I race into the Student Union, hurrying past students studying and eating in the common area. My stomach growls from the aromas of pizza and Chinese food drifting up from the tables. They just had to have this stupid meeting at dinnertime.
A small spurt of panic shoots through me. “We don’t know which room it’s in.”
“Victoria said it’s in the Engelmann Room…I think,” Carly says, biting her lip.
We fly up the stairs to the second floor and only stop once we’re right outside the closed door to Engelmann. Carly’s slender fingers hover dramatically over the doorknob. I hold my breath as she twists it, and we steal inside. Two rectangular conference tables have been pushed together in the center of the room. We slip into the two empty seats closest to us.
“—This year the dance will be held in the ballroom at the Willow Park Hotel,” a familiar, clipped voice says at the head of the table. It belongs to Rebecca, Alpha Rho’s social chair. Behind her, the words “Bid Night Formal Theme” are scrawled in black marker across a whiteboard. Rebecca’s gray eyes narrow in our direction. Her dark hair has a bluish cast to it and falls around her pale face in soft waves. “The Gammas are late. Stunning.”
“Be nice, Becky.” Samantha Carson stands on the other side of the white board. Like Rebecca, she’s wearing Alpha Rho house letters: an aquamarine t-shirt with bright yellow capital Greek letters. She studies us with one amused brown eye; dirty blonde sideswept bangs cover up the other. The rest of her hair is shaved close to the scalp. “Not all of us are blessed with the astonishing power to tell time,” she adds, smirking.
A few snickers go up around the room. Carly sinks down into her chair, receding behind a wall of curls.
“I am so sorry,” I say, jumping back to my feet. “We’ve been a little preoccupied lately with, you know, battling evil. Saving the world.” I send them an innocent smile and sit down.
The rest of the room laughs good-naturedly along with me, but the corners of Rebecca’s mouth remain turned down. “Bid Night is next week. We really can’t afford to slack off.”
“Considering we didn’t get started until five after, I think we can cut the Gammas some slack,” says Sigma Iota Sam. He and Alec are sitting at the other end of the table. Sam winks as me, his smile familiar and friendly—like he didn’t conspire to kill me and my sisters at the Riverfront Bar and Grill just last week. Nevertheless, I mouth him a silent “thank you” for sticking up for us in front of the Alpha Rhos.
“Moving on.” Rebecca uncaps a black felt marker and turns to the whiteboard. “As you know, the Bid Night Formal is the first big Greek event for all of our pledges. As the reps from your respective houses, you’re expected to arrive at the hotel early that night to help us set up. Tonight, we need to vote on a theme. Samantha and I have brainstormed some ideas, but we’re open to others.”
“They’re open to others,” Carly says in my ear. “How generous of them.”
“I’m sorry, is there a question?” Rebecca asks loudly, cupping a hand behind her ear. Carly quickly pulls away from me. I let out an angry puff of air from my nose and grind my lips together, fixing my eyes on the whiteboard. I skim the list Rebecca wrote down while she was babbling: 1. Midnight in Paris, 2. Once upon a Time, 3. Phantom of the Opera, 4. Magic of the Orient.
I thrust my arm into the air. “I think we should cross ‘Magic of the Orient’ off the list.”
“And why’s that?” Samantha wonders, crossing her arms.
“Remember our ‘Arabian Nights’ formal last year?” I remind them. “The Thurston Post said it was racist, and we got in a lot of trouble with the dean.”
The co-chairs look at each other for a few moments without saying anything. “Good point,” Rebecca concedes and draws a fat “X” over number four. “Does anyone else have an idea or an…objection?”
“I like ‘Phantom of the Opera,’” says one of Delta Chi’s reps. “Tell us more about it.”
Rebecca beams at her. “That’s our favorite. We were thinking a masquerade with a dark, mysterious atmosphere.” The girls in attendance nod their heads eagerly, whispering excitedly to each other, including myself and Carly. The boys’ faces remain deadpan.
“Sounds good, but can we please call it something other than ‘Phantom of the Opera?’” Sam pleads.
Shrugging, Rebecca says, “How about just ‘Masquerade Ball?’” This time, all heads bob in unison. “Let’s make it official. Raise your hand if you are in favor of ‘Masquerade Ball’ for this year’s Bid Night Formal.” Eighteen arms go up in the air. “You can put your hands down. The decision is unanimous.”
“Great. Can we go now?” asks one of the brothers from
Eta Tau Upsilon.
Rebecca recaps the marker. “In a second. The dance starts at eight. We need you at the hotel at six. Samantha and I will send out a reminder email later in the week.” People are already pushing back in their chairs, standing up to leave and talking amongst themselves. “Thanks, everybody!” she yells above the din.
“I’m hungry,” Carly says to me on our way out. We stop just outside the room, waving politely to the Delta Chi reps emerging after us.
“Thinking about ‘Magic of the Orient’ gave me a craving for Chinese food,” I admit.
“Sounds good to me. China Sun or Panda Palace?”
“You girls better watch your backs.”
Carly and I jump and whirl around at the same time. Rebecca stands a few feet away, hands on her hips, head tilted to the side.
“That’s not very panhellenic of you,” I tell her.
Samantha appears behind her. “Well, it wasn’t very panhellenic of your president to un-invite me to your formal.”
“Or to let one of our sisters die there,” Rebecca adds.
“Whoa!” I exclaim, holding out my hands. “You have to know that was out of our control,” I insist, lowering my voice. “There’s nothing we could have done.”
“Nothing? Really?” Rebecca closes the gap between us, glaring down at me and Carly. “You’re supposed to be Nike’s damn guardians,” she says through gritted teeth.
My mind races to come up with a defense. I cast a sideways glance at Carly for some help. She’s looking at the floor, her lower lip quivering. Underneath my back, my wings give a nervous ripple, but I easily keep them contained. Now that I’ve finished the ambrosia treatments, I can control my wings without much thought.
“Genie wasn’t herself. She was under the control of…of others,” I finally say, unable to say Jasper’s name. “So was one of our sisters—Liz. We understand what you’re going through.”
“Liz is still alive,” Samantha points out. “You have no idea what we’re going through.”
“Like I said.” Rebecca leans in closer to us. “Watch. Your. Backs—”
“Ladies.” Sigma Iota Sam inserts himself between us, and Rebecca takes a reflexive step back. “If there’s going to be a girl fight, at least let us get you an inflatable pool and some Jell-O.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Rebecca’s mouth. “Ugh, you’re such a pig,” she says, hitting him playfully in the shoulder.
“Seriously, though.” Alec comes up beside Samantha and looks from her to Rebecca. “Play nice.”
“Looks like your boyfriends have come to the rescue,” Samantha says with a sneer. “Let’s go, Becky.” After shooting us one last withering glare, the Alpha Rhos turn on their heels and walk away.
My arms lash out at empty air. “I hate them so much,” I growl, punctuating each word with a punch of my fist.
“Don’t worry about them,” Sam says. “They’re all talk.”
“No one threatens my Cuddle Bunny,” Alec says, going over to Carly and pulling her into a bear hug. He kisses her chastely on the forehead before setting her down. I stick my pointer finger into my mouth and mime gagging. Sam chuckles. “I like the way this looks on you,” Alec adds. He runs his thumb along the chain of Carly’s necklace.
I wonder if he notices the hesitation in Carly’s smile. “Me, too.”
“What was all that about, anyway?” Sam wonders as we amble as one toward the stairs. “Sounded a bit more serious than fighting over who’s to blame for the campus glitter shortage.”
“There’s a campus glitter shortage!” Carly cries. Alec sighs and pats her reassuringly on the head.
Sam’s mouth squirms as he tries not to laugh. “It was a joke.”
“You can’t make jokes like that two days before rush,” I admonish him. “It was nothing. Just stupid sorority drama.”
“But thanks for coming to our rescue,” Carly says, pecking a kiss on Alec’s jaw.
“Yeah, thanks—although we were handling it,” I insist.
“Anytime,” Alec says, a grin crinkling the edges of his black marble eyes. “We know you can take them, but the Alpha Rhos aren’t out favorite people, either. Especially Becky. She and my roommate hooked up last weekend. He really liked her, and they had talked about going out. Then, the next day in their finance class, she acted like it never happened and turned him down when he asked her out.”
“Maybe she was drunk and doesn’t remember.” Alec gives me a skeptical look. “Or maybe she’s a man-eating slut,” I concede. Okay, I don’t really think having regrets about a one night stand makes anyone a man-eating slut, but it felt good to vent.
Alec wraps his arm around Carly’s waist. “Come back with me. We’re ordering some pizza and watching the game.”
“Pizza sounds amazing right now. Is that okay?” she asks me.
“Of course. Go,” I tell her.
“Come with us,” says Sam.
“Thanks, but not tonight. I’m just going to grab some dinner here and take it back to the house. I have a lot of work to do.”
“Suit yourself.” Sam holds open the door for Alec and Carly. “Later!” he calls out to me.
As the door is swinging shut, I glimpse the silhouette of a man standing motionless on the other side, facing the building. Powerful stance. Broad shoulders. Hair curling above his shirt collar. He might be wearing a suit, but in the blue-black shadows of dusk, it’s hard to tell.
The door closes. I run up to the window and look outside.
No one is there.
Sighing and shaking my head, I turn and head for Panda Palace’s neon orange sign. The line spills out into the lobby. While I wait, I pull out my phone to check my email and all possible social media sites.
I feel a presence, a disturbance in the air beside me, even before I feel the familiar hand on my elbow.
“Siobhan?”
Chapter 5
I drop my phone. It clatters to the floor.
“Crap!” I cry out, crouching to retrieve it.
“Here, let me—” Jimmy says at almost the same time. His white shirt rides up as he kneels and reaches for it, flashing a strip of chiseled abs and the elastic of his maroon boxers. My hand gets to the phone first, and his lands on top of mine.
“Sorry,” he says, snatching his hand away. We both straighten up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay, I thought you were…I just wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say instead. “Here, I mean. What are you doing here?” The line moves, and Jimmy and I take a few steps forward.
“I had a meeting here about a possible gig,” he explains, readjusting the strap of his guitar case on his shoulder.
“Oh. I just got out of a meeting, too. We’re planning this Greek formal thing.”
Jimmy’s hazel eyes widen as he slowly comes to a realization. “The Bid Night Formal?” I nod. “Yeah, that’s the gig.”
“I didn’t think college dances were your scene.”
“Anything that pays five hundred dollars for the night is our scene.”
“You know you’re going to have to keep the shocking stage antics to a minimum,” I tell him. “And wear a shirt.”
“I can’t promise clothes won’t come off.”
“Can I get you something?”
I give a start and look up at the server brandishing a ladle and glaring at me from behind the counter. “Sorry! Yes, the chicken lo mein. Please. Do you want anything?” I ask Jimmy.
“No, thanks.”
The server heaps spoonfuls of chicken and greasy noodles into a to-go container. She snaps on the lid, slides it into a paper bag and sets the bag on the counter next to the cash register.
“That will be six dollars,” she says, and I hand her my student ID card. She swipes it through the card reader and hands it back to me. I throw my card and the receipt into my purse. Grabbing the bag, I turn back to Jimmy.
“Let’s go sit down—” My throat constricts, cutting off my words, as a sickeni
ng perfume fills my nostrils. I know who’s behind me even before I hear her breathless, mocking voice.
“That looks delicious,” Apate says throatily. Her green eyes are trained on Jimmy. “I’ll have the chicken lo mein, too,” she tells the server.
“Hey! She cut!” someone further back in the line calls out. He takes a small step to the side, keeping one leg in the line, and jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Back of the line! You have to wait just like everybody else!”
Her head whips around to confront him. “A girls gotta eat,” she tells him, shrugging innocently. The boy opens his mouth to say more, but the words come out in a hoarse gasp, his jaw dropping further. He gives a yelp of fear as he stares at something over Apate’s shoulder, eyes growing wide with panic. Everyone watches him race into the lobby and out the front door, screaming and flailing his arms the entire way.
“That will be…six dollars,” the server says slowly, her eyes narrowed at Apate.
Apate hands over some cash. “It warms my heart to see you lovebirds back together,” she says, facing me and Jimmy again. “Sucks for me, though. I thought it was my turn.”
Jimmy’s eyes seem to be stuck on the shield pendant dangling just above Apate’s cleavage. He forces his chin up and meets her famished gaze. “I know you. You’re Ape. One of the few people who’ve managed to make my boss’s blacklist.”
“It’s Apate. Or Pat, for short.”
Jimmy strokes the five-o-clock shadow on his cheek as he considers this. “I think I like ‘Ape’ better.”
Apate’s nostrils flare, her chin trembling, but she retains her composure. “Well, if you ever want to spice things up, you know where to find me.” She winks in my direction.
I look from her to Jimmy, then point at myself. “Wait, you don’t mean—”
Giggling like a hyena, Apate says, “I was talking to him. I didn’t realize you had such a kinky little mind, Psycho. No wonder Eros was so into you.”
“God, just shut up,” I snap at her, digging my fingernails into the brown paper bag. I don’t know if it’s merely her irritating presence or hearing her say his name that’s making my anger boil over. “Get the hell away from us.”
