by Julie Drew
“What the hell?” Tesla asked.
“Finnegan thinks he’s the shit,” Keisha answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He figures he can tell me what to do because he’s older than me—barely older. Just ignore him.”
Tesla certainly intended to ignore him, but she was curious. “Why is it such a big deal that we’re here? We can’t be the only ones here underage.”
“I doubt it’s about that,” Keisha said slowly. She paused, and her frown made it clear to Tesla that it was not easy to explain Finnegan Ford. “He’s had a very cool—but very weird—life, and it’s made him kind of a pain in the ass.”
“What do you mean? Cool and weird how?”
Keisha pulled Tesla back into the line of people moving toward the keg, and spoke over her shoulder. “Cool in that he’s lived in a bunch of different countries, Europe mostly, but weird in that he was stuck in boarding school a lot. He’s been on his own, really, his whole life, no siblings and not much contact with his parents since he started school.”
“Shit,” said Tesla.
“Yeah. He’s used to being the boss. Of himself and—he thinks—of everyone else, too,” Keisha said, at the keg at last. The hot Asian guy, whose expression had been decidedly bored up till now, looked anything but as he watched the girls approach. Keisha, for her part, had lost all interest in Finn’s unusual childhood.
Unnoticed by either of the girls, Finn stood in the opposite doorway, just close enough to hear the conversation as he watched his cousin flirt with his best friend. She could lay it on thick, and despite his apprehension about what this evening might bring, Finn couldn’t help but be amused. Joley might be a little older, and more experienced, but Keisha was a force to be reckoned with, and Finn wished him luck. Keisha giggled, flattered Joley, and looked away in faux confusion, but despite her amusing, over-the-top performance, Finn’s interest was drawn from his cousin to the redheaded girl who stood next to her.
It was fanciful, of course, but it seemed that all the light in the room was pulled toward the girl in the white embroidered shirt, the pale gleam of her arms reflecting back the light and illuminating everything around her. Her thick, fiery hair curled over her shoulders and down the thin, white shirt she wore in stark contrast to the long line of her throat. His eyes traveled down her slim body, until she laughed and his eyes snapped back up to her face, animated with humor and intelligence and a soft, wide mouth framed by dimples.
He forced his attention back to Keisha, anxious to get the girls out of the house.
Joley was leaning in, foolishly, like a fly buzzing around one of those carnivorous plants. “So, Keisha, love, you still haven’t told me—what year are you? I most certainly haven’t seen you around before, and it’s a rather small campus.”
“I haven’t seen you either, we must not have had any classes together,” Keisha said. “I love your British accent, I feel like I’m on Downton Abbey. Tell me how you pronounce your name again?” She looked up at him from under her lashes—not something she was able to do often, given her five-foot ten-inch frame.
“Ah, yes—the BBC has been a brilliant wingman for me these past two years. My name is Zhou Li. It’s Chinese, and it’s pronounced Joe-Lee.”
“Joley,” said Keisha slowly. She turned the radiance of her most seductive smile on him—which was hard to resist, as Keisha herself was well aware. “I like it.”
A silvery-blonde, lightly tanned boy approached Tesla and tugged gently on her sleeve, so gently that she missed it at first. Relief washed over her expressive face as she looked at the boy and smiled.
“About time you got here,” Tesla said. “I’ve had to bear witness to Keisha’s charms for, like, two hours. I’m exhausted. And a little skeeved.”
“It’s been five minutes, tops,” said Keisha. “And you’re just jealous.”
Joley stared expectantly at the three of them and Keisha, who had no choice now, made the introductions with a vague wave at Tesla and the blonde boy. “Friends, Joley. Joley, friends.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you,” said Joley, peering closely at them in the bright kitchen lights. Then he looked at Keisha, clearly puzzled, and Finn, still eavesdropping, almost laughed out loud. He knew exactly where this was headed.
“You’re all students here, right?” asked Joley. “I mean, you are in college?”
Tesla looked at Mal, Mal looked at Keisha, and Keisha looked at Joley. There was an awkward pause, and then Keisha mumbled, “Not in the technical sense.”
Joley looked amused now, too, but far less flirtatious than he had only seconds before. “What other sense is there, love?”
“Look,” said Keisha, the shy pretense gone. “We’re almost finished with high school, Tesla’s dad is a professor here, and we’ve spent so much time on campus we probably know it better than you do.”
“Perhaps,” said Joley. “But I’m far too good looking to go to jail, even for something as crucially important as serving you alcohol.”
“Liability? Seriously? Look, Joley, no one has a drink, see?” Keisha indicated the absence of beer cups within their small group.
The blonde boy flicked his straight, silvery hair out of his eyes and tentatively raised his hand. “I was actually just about to…”
Tesla put her hand on his arm. “No, we were just about to leave. We promised Finn.”
Joley looked startled. “You know Finn, do you?”
“He’s my cousin,” said Keisha with a shrug. “He lives here.”
“I know,” said Joley. “What did you say your friends’ names were?”
“Malcolm and Tesla,” Keisha said, and Joley’s eyes snapped to Tesla’s face.
“I can’t believe—why would he bring you here?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly invite us,” admitted Keisha reluctantly. “I heard there was a party tonight. One of the girls mentioned it today after practice, and I wanted to check it out.”
Joley was clearly agitated. He looked around the crowded room for something or someone, the worried look on his face reminiscent of Finn’s reaction when he’d first seen the girls tonight. It was a look that acknowledged the potential for catastrophe.
“You should really go now,” Joley said, his tone urgent. He moved his hands as if to herd them toward the back door that opened up off the kitchen.
“Hey man, what’s up?” said a deep voice just behind Tesla’s shoulder. “Is there still beer in the keg?”
Finn craned his head around the doorway to get a look at the two guys who had approached, and he tensed with the onrush of sudden adrenaline.
Tesla moved closer to Mal to make room for the newcomers. She and Mal and Keisha had to press tightly together to accommodate the two giants—football players in all likelihood, with their ham-sized hands, powerful shoulders, and disturbing absence of neck.
“Well, hey, sweet thing,” said the guy closest to Tesla as he peered down at her. His eyes raked her body before he turned to the keg and bent low to pump it, an empty red cup in his other hand.
Tesla looked down at the top of the guy’s head, which was already balding at the crown. Geez, how old are these guys, anyway? she thought.
“C’mon, Tesla, let’s get out of here,” said Malcolm. “I’m hungry.”
A loud thump, followed immediately by a grunt of pain and several excited voices yelling encouragement from the parlor caught Finn’s attention. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw two idiots pummeling each other. They swung wildly, with little effect but the almost certain outcome of crashing into Lydia’s antique table and flower-filled vase.
He would have to take care of it.
He glanced back briefly at the tableau by the keg and cursed the piss-poor timing of all drunks and their inexplicable need to show each other their beer muscles, and sprinted away to break up the fight.
CHAPTER 2
“C’mon, Tesla, let’s get out of here,” Malcolm said. “I’m hungry.”
Tesla jumped, just a little
, as the big blond hulk straightened up quickly and loomed over her, his beer still unpoured.
“Tesla?” he asked sharply as he stared at her, hard. “What’s your last name?”
Tesla felt the jolt of an unnamed fear that hit her stomach, traveled to the tips of her fingers and toes, and left her breathless. She said nothing, only returned his stare.
“Who wants to know?” asked Keisha as she stepped up next to Tesla.
“I’m sure all the guys want to know,” said the other giant, his short dark hair cut close to his head as well. “What’s your name?” His voice was sharp, too, his eyes as hard and bright as a bird of prey, not at all like the lazy, hazy voice of some beer-soaked jock.
Both men seemed to lean in closer, to cut off Tesla’s air supply and shrink the space around her until she was wedged in, trapped by the bodies, the keg, and the walls of the kitchen. She took a step back—approximately six-point-three inches. She knew instinctively that this would allow her to clear Malcolm’s body and make a straight line to the arched, interior doorway and the big, hotel-lobby-like room they’d been in earlier, which would be the shortest route of escape, even if only by a little over three feet. The back door was closer, of course, but she’d have to get past these two guys to reach it.
Before she could react to his sudden movement, Tesla’s wrist was caught in the blond giant’s fist. “Let’s talk,” he said softly, and it wasn’t a question. “Out back where it’s quiet and we can get to know each other.”
Tesla leaned away from him as he began to pull her toward the back door. “No, I don’t think—” she began, but was cut off by Keisha’s outraged voice.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded loudly. “Let go of her!”
The other man ignored Keisha, as well as Tesla’s struggles against his partner, and stepped quickly to the back door and opened it. The unlit night was revealed as the man stepped outside, the sound of his footsteps sharp against the wooden stairs, and was swallowed by the darkness. The blond one, Tesla’s wrist still in his vice-like grip, walked toward the door with Tesla in tow, her feet actually sliding across the hardwood floor. She frantically tried to peel his fingers from her wrist with her other hand, but they were like iron bands.
At exactly the same moment, Joley and Malcolm stepped in front of him, tried to block his way, and Mal cried, “Let her go!” though his voice cracked a little on the last word.
“Beckett! A little help here, please!” Joley yelled.
Immediately a girl stepped into the room and planted herself in front of the man who held Tesla by the wrist, her back toward the open door through which the other man had disappeared. She wore tailored trousers, an untucked white button-down shirt that fit close to her curves, and a man’s tie loose around her neck, her long, honey-colored hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.
“What’s up?” she asked. She stood lightly, easily, though her body blocked the way to the back door and her eyes never left the huge blond man who held Tesla’s wrist in his meaty fist. Her question, however, was directed at Joley.
“This Neanderthal and the bugger outside have not observed good party etiquette,” Joley said calmly. “This one has decided to take Tesla here out back for a chat, whether she wants to go or not.” Joley’s explanation was factual, but Tesla sensed a strange emphasis in his words that she didn’t understand.
“Tesla?” asked the girl, her voice suddenly sharp. Her gaze darted momentarily to Joley before it locked back on the man in front of her.
“Indeed. Friend of Finn’s cousin, here, Keisha. Also in bloody high school.” He pointed at Keisha.
“Well, that’s unexpected. And you need to leave,” the blonde girl said quietly to the man who held Tesla’s wrist.
“Out of the way, little girl.” He raised his free hand as if to move her aside while he began to pull Tesla toward the door again.
But the girl Joley had called Beckett grabbed the creep’s enormous hand with her own small one and turned her wrist in a deceptively gentle motion until the man cried out, his arm now bent awkwardly, elbow up, his wrist somehow turned backward in an unnatural and painful way. As Beckett lowered her own hand, the guy’s knees bent, and he slowly moved toward the floor to alleviate the pressure she exerted on his wrist.
He had no choice. He let go of Tesla, and she was free.
“Harper!” called the guy loudly, on his knees now, his face dark red and his wrist still twisted under Beckett’s hand.
They all heard the thunder of feet on wooden stairs as the second man ran back up the steps from the yard into the kitchen. He completely filled the doorway as he blinked in the bright light and took in the scene in an instant, like the professional he was.
“Get the girl!” said the one on his knees, his voice tight with pain.
But as the second man made a move forward, toward either Beckett or Tesla—no one was sure which—and Mal and Keisha moved in close to Tesla, shocked at the violent turn of events, Finn ran into the room and barreled through the three friends as he rushed at the man in the doorway. He would have knocked Tesla to the ground if she hadn’t seen him move and leaned exactly fifteen degrees to her right, no more and no less than was needed to avoid a collision. Finn slammed his shoulder into the solar plexus of the dark-haired man, which propelled them both out the door and down the steps. Everyone in the room froze as they heard the thud of something heavy land outside on the lawn, followed immediately by the sound of a very large person desperate to suck in oxygen because he’s had all the air expelled from his lungs.
Finn came back in the door, a small cut over his right eye, but he seemed otherwise all right—in fact, Tesla thought, he actually looked happy, and more than a little bit pleased with himself. When he touched Beckett’s shoulder she immediately released the thug on his knees in front of her. The blond man slowly got to his feet, but his injured arm hung uselessly by his side.
Finn spoke quietly, his voice matter-of-fact, while a thin thread of blood followed the line of his eyebrow and moved slowly down his temple. “The cops are on their way. Pick your friend up off the ground outside and don’t come back.”
A siren sounded in the distance, as if on cue.
The injured man looked at Beckett, took in her trim, athletic frame and unperturbed gaze. “We’re not finished,” he said quietly, and then looked back over his shoulder at Tesla. “And we will have that talk, Tesla Abbott. Count on it.” He moved slowly toward the door, his arm cradled in his uninjured hand, and when Finn didn’t move to get out of his way he was forced to walk around him, out the back door, and into the night.
It was only in the silence which followed that Tesla realized the techno-beat of the music had disappeared, and that all sounds of the party had gone right along with it. The kitchen was empty but for the six who had witnessed the recent excitement and now stood between the back door and the abandoned keg. Through the arched doorway, Tesla could see a girl with spiky black hair close the front door on the last partiers as they quietly left.
Keisha and Malcolm looked at Tesla with concern. “I’m fine,” she said.
“Can we sit for a minute before we leave?” Keisha asked Finn, despite Tesla’s assurances.
Finn said nothing, but turned and led them all back into the big lobby-like room they’d first entered, where they joined the spiky-haired Goth girl, who sat on the edge of a huge overstuffed sofa upholstered in black and cream stripes. Tesla took a chair and Malcolm sat on the floor at her feet. Keisha hovered protectively nearby as Joley, Beckett, and Finn took the other chairs.
“Well, that was fun,” said Tesla.
“No, that wasn’t fun at all, actually,” said Finn in a tight voice. “You guys should never have come here tonight.”
“Well, everybody’s okay, that’s what counts,” said Malcolm, reasonably, but then his face was split by a grin as he stared with open admiration at Beckett. “Well, everybody except that talking mountain. You kicked his ass!”
/> “The point is that those idiots would’ve probably drunk our beer and left, but they saw you guys as easy targets,” said Finn. “You shouldn’t be at a college party, and that’s exactly why.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tesla, stung by this faulty logic. “You can’t seriously blame us for this! The fact that we are seventeen instead of eighteen is irrelevant.”
“Well, only you and Mal are seventeen. You know, factually,” Keisha reminded her, and Tesla shot her a hateful look.
“I’m sixteen,” piped up Goth girl, “and nobody bothered me.”
Tesla indicated with a wave of her hand that Goth girl’s comment was exhibit A, and sent a raised-eyebrow look in Finn’s direction. “My point exactly. If the cause of their behavior had been our age, they would have bothered this girl. They didn’t, because our age had nothing to do with it.”
“Thanks, Bizzy, that’s not exactly helpful,” said Finn with a frown for the Goth girl. “And now that you’ve reminded us of your youth, why don’t you go upstairs and go to bed like a good girl.”
“Wait, you live here, too?” asked Keisha, glancing at the Goth girl—at Bizzy—in surprise.
“Yep,” said Bizzy. “I’m a senior. Physics and Astronomy, double major.” She grinned, and her lovely smile undercut the intimidation her darkly outlined eyes and spiky black hair were supposed to inspire. “And this was my birthday party.”
“You’re a college senior and you turned sixteen today?” asked Mal. “How is that possible?”
“Must be she’s a fracking child prodigy, mate,” Joley offered good-naturedly, and Tesla glanced pointedly at Keisha. See? Geek.
Beckett, who up until this moment had offered nothing to the conversation, said, “If the excitement is all over, I’m heading up. My workout is insanely early tomorrow.” She turned and walked toward the elegantly curved staircase at the far right of the room. The lamplight reflected off her hair, not a single strand of which was out of place. “And it’s not her birthday,” she said to the room at large.
Tesla, Keisha, and Mal looked confused.
