Riley was more than happy with Staci’s selection, but Wanda was having none of it.
She huffed and looked offended. “He invited us to be who we are, not to be a carbon copy of the Trust Fund Brigade. I’ve been done with uniforms for a while.”
But this time Staci wasn’t going to give in. “All you know is the townies. You’ve never met any of the Blackthornes. How do you know you won’t like them? For all you know, you’d be like sisters or something. But if you look like a dork, you’ll never get a chance to find out.” She did some rearranging of the stuff on the bed, and dove into her closet for the plaid skirt from her New York school uniform, and some of the requisite black-on-black-on-black stuff of every New Yorker’s wardrobe. Including something she thought might clinch the deal; a black silk haori jacket from the used kimono store.
“If the Silver Spoon Squad wouldn’t even give me a chance because of how I normally dress, then what does that say about them? I don’t see a reason why I ought to change.” Wanda crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyebrow raised and waiting.
But Staci had been figuring that would be Wanda’s attitude, so she had planned her reply in advance. “So, you would think it’s perfectly cool to go to France, refuse to learn a word of French, and insist everyone speak English? You’d refuse to eat at a French bistro, and insist on eating at McDonalds?”
“Well, no, but that’s different—”
“No,” Staci said firmly. “It’s not. Look, Wanda, when that guy said, the rich are different, he just wasn’t trying to be clever. They are. Sean makes a real effort to get people up to his place and try and be the ambassador, get it? And they can’t help dressing like the Trust Fund, this is how people dress in their ‘country.’ But if you show up looking like you don’t give a shit, and acting like you don’t give a shit, what does that say about you? It says you’re a—a bigot. Somebody that just turned up so you can turn up your nose at them.”
“Fine, fine! I’ll put on one of these outfits if it’ll get you off my back. But I do this under protest!” She stuck her tongue out, and then started eyeing the silk haori coat.
“You wanna go Goth-loli with that, or cyber-geisha?” Staci asked, coaxingly. “Or that would work as a Lara-Croftish kinda thing with the skinny black pants.”
“Can you picture me as Goth-loli?” Wanda scoffed. “But…have you got…”
“Try this—” Staci said with authority, and before too long, Wanda was looking…well…hip. In fact, she wouldn’t have been out of place in the circles where Staci was used to bumping into the kids from private and prep schools. The skinny black rayon pants, the haori, over a black bamboo T-shirt with a Japanese mon on the front…and instead of an obi, a shiny bike chain with a matching bracelet that Staci had found in a thrift store.
“Damn, girl, you clean up good,” Riley said in awe, as Wanda looked at herself critically in Staci’s mirror. Riley had another of Staci’s vintage finds, an actual Betsy Johnson from the late Sixties. This time Staci had gone Eighties—not disco Eighties, but Alexander McQueen Eighties, a black vintage tuxedo/harem jumpsuit. Her one real gift had always been a nose for the thrift shops that got the good stuff in…and didn’t know how to price it. She’d been able to hold her own with the girls who had thousands of dollars to spend on clothes. In fact, that little beaded number that Brenda had stolen was one of her finds.
“This isn’t that bad, I’ll admit. I didn’t know you had such an eye for this kind of stuff, Staci.”
Since she knew that was the best she was going to get from Wanda, she just grinned. “You think because my father’s a lawyer I had a ton of money?” she asked. “The only reason I’m buying out of catalogs right now is because the thrift shops here suck rocks. If I could sew…” She sighed. “But we didn’t have room for a sewing machine.”
“I can teach you to sew.” Riley and Staci both looked at Wanda. “What? This town doesn’t exactly have a lot to cater to Goths. Taught myself, picked up a few tricks here and there. I’ve got an old Singer Model 320 that I can show you on, if you want.”
“With accessories?” Staci asked, breathlessly.
“A boatload. My great aunt was a professional seamstress. Everything from the zipper attachment to the ruffler.” Wanda looked inordinately pleased with herself and she should be. You couldn’t buy one of those vintage Singers for anything in New York. Staci had coveted one forever. You could even sew leather on them!
“If you would…I know so many makeover tricks…” Staci began, when Riley laughed.
“Later, you two. Let’s get down to the curb before the guys think we fell down a rabbit hole.”
* * *
The “car” was the limo, and the driver on the other side of the darkened thick glass was utterly indifferent to anything they were doing in the back, so the gang got to explore the interior and the amenities to their hearts’ content.
“This is insane, Staci! You didn’t tell us that it’d be a limo. This is some real-deal Hollywood stuff.” Seth marveled at the different adjustments for the seats, from heat, to air conditioning, to lighting, and especially the massage option.
“We don’t even need to go to a party; we could have one in the back of this thing. It’s completely hooked up for gaming.” Jake had helped himself to some of the refreshments already, and was now engrossed by the flatscreen monitor and the game systems that were installed.
“I guess when the airport is over a hundred miles away you need something to keep you busy,” Staci laughed.
“No doubt.” Wanda did her best to seem unimpressed, but Staci could tell that she was still wowed by the luxury. And somehow, that made Staci happy; she was getting a chance to share this with her friends. She wanted them to be happy for her, but she also wanted them to enjoy the same things that she had, these past couple of weeks.
When they arrived, the house was just like Staci remembered it; beautiful, extravagant, the only bright spot in dull, drab Silence. Servants escorted her and the rest of the gang to the house and out to the back patio, where the party was already in full swing. Seth had already spotted the buffet tables, and it was clear that that was going to be his first stop. Riley was gawking at all of the clothes that the Blackthorne girls were wearing, envy plainly written on her face—but the Blackthorne girls were looking back at Riley with approval. Jake, meanwhile, was eyeing the impressive home entertainment system that had been set up, with a projector and an extensive library of video games. Wanda, again being herself, tried her level best to appear disinterested in everything around her.
The crowd parted magically, and Sean appeared, heading straight for them. “Staci!” he called, with a big smile, and reached out to hug her and peck her on the cheek. “Now, you don’t have to introduce me to your friends. You’ve told me so much about them, I feel I know them already.” He reached out and shook Seth’s and Jake’s hands. “You would be Seth, and Jake. I want you to get yourselves some food and drink, and there are two controllers waiting just for you over there at the game station.”
Actually, she couldn’t remember talking to Sean about her friends in any great detail, but she must have at some point for him to know what he knew.
Then he took Riley’s hands in both his. “And the lovely Riley! The gamer girl! There is a controller waiting for you, too, and I cannot wait to watch you kick my cousins’ asses. I’ve been telling them for a year now that girls who game are always better than men. Calmer under pressure, and better reflexes.”
Riley flushed, but looked pleased, though tongue tied. Sean let go of her hands and let her follow the boys to the buffet.
“And you are Wanda.” Sean made no move to take her hands, which was probably just as well. “My cousin Morrigan has been plaguing me for a month to get you up here. She wants to talk your ear off about…well, I’m just a guy, I have no idea what she’s going on about, but I know you will.” He waved in the direction of the pool. “Mori!” he called. “Wanda’s here!”
A rav
en-haired girl dressed in a black, Victorian-style gown complete with a tiny bustle separated herself from a little group poolside and hurried over. “Oh…migod,” she said happily. “I have so been wanting to meet you! I thought I was the only Goth in this whole city!”
Wanda held up a hand. “Before we can talk…Siouxsie and the Banshees?”
“Yes. Their fourth album especially—”
“Celtic Frost?”
“‘A Dying God Coming Into Human Flesh’ is my anthem.”
“Okay. Final question. Voltaire?”
Mori absolutely sparkled. “Sooo funny! And I looove ‘Goodnight Demon Slayer,’ it’s adorable!”
Wanda sighed. “Okay, we can talk. Come with me, and I’ll teach you everything you need to know, whether you want to know it or not.” Staci was certain she actually saw Wanda grin as she threw an arm over the Blackthorne cousin, leading her away.
Staci let out her breath. “Oh…wow. That went well!”
“I’m actually surprised. Happily so,” Sean said, grinning toothily at Staci. “Shall we?”
He offered her his arm, and she took it. He whisked her around the party, from group to group. Sean was as charming as ever, introducing her to everyone, making conversation and including her in everything. She saw that her friends were getting along just fine, as well. Seth and Jake were absolutely devastating everyone else at some first-person-shooter game, taking on all comers with smug satisfaction. Riley was holding her own in that department as well, but regularly took breaks to talk fashion and Silence gossip with both Blackthorne and townie girls. Wanda was in her own little world with Morrigan, off away from the rest of the party, heads together, over a pile of magazines, talking as intensely as a couple of scientists over an experiment.
It was all…perfect. Even her one fear, that the Blackthornes or the townies or both might encourage her friends to get drunk…maybe in order to make fun of them…never materialized. In fact, once she even heard one of the waiters say to Jake, “Not that one, sir, that’s gin and tonic, not ginger ale. Here you go.”
“You know, Staci…your friends are as much fun to have here as you are,” Sean said. “Well…almost. As much fun for my cousins, I should say. Would you mind if we found somewhere a little more private to talk? The noise of the party is a little much, sometimes.”
Since that was pretty much exactly what she was hoping for, she nodded. “Of course, if you think you don’t need to play host so much.” Don’t look needy, girl! Don’t blow this.
“They’ll survive without me.” He took her by the hand. “Follow me.” Sean led her along, past the pool and out of the range of the music.
He was at his most casual tonight: khakis and a simple chocolate-brown short-sleeved, V-neck sweater—a sweater which she knew, from casually brushing against him, was silk. He also had on some sort of after-shave or cologne that had an unusual, woody smell to it, with a hint of musk.
Sean waited until they could barely hear the din of the party before he stopped. It was dark on this part of the property; they were behind the pool house, well onto the rear lawn where there was only moonlight. Staci could see the expanse of the hedge maze off to the left, and vaguely shuddered at the memory of what she had seen there. Finally, Sean stopped walking, turning to face her and taking both of her hands in his.
“Staci…I want you to know that you’re really special to me.” He sighed, chuckling to himself. She had the sense that he wasn’t amused, but rather sad in his mirth. “I can’t really talk to any of the others about this. Not even my own family, really. All of them, especially Finn, are looking for any opening that they can get. Weakness isn’t well tolerated amongst my family.”
She squeezed his hands. “I’m so sorry, Sean…my family…well, they’re pretty dysfunctional too. I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I can sure understand. And you can always talk to me, I want you to know that.”
Sean pulled away from her, breaking the grasp. “How could you understand? Really? Do people only care about you because of your name? Do they only see you for your money, or what you can do for them? Do they hate you for what you have, and what they don’t? As if it’s your fault?”
She took his hands back in hers and looked deeply into his eyes. “Sean, my dad threw me out because he loves my stepmother more than me. He threw me under the bus. He knows what my mom is…what everyone in this town knows she is! She’s the drunk slut who’ll sleep with anything in pants and it’s a wonder she hasn’t managed to lose her job at the Rusty Bucket like she’s lost every other job she ever had! Every time the phone rings, I’m scared it will be her boss telling her not to come in! And my father cares so little for me that that is what he sent me to live with! Everyone in this town who knows her, knows all that. And even her boyfriend thinks I’m just like her, and if she’s not available, I am! Yes, I can understand being despised! Maybe not the same as you, but…equally!”
Sean searched her eyes for a few moments, then looked down in shame. “I’m sorry, Staci. I got caught up in my own bullshit for a minute. It’s tough, always being on guard and having to pick your words.” He looked up, meeting her eyes again. “You wouldn’t believe the pressure. Everyone is focused on success, achievement. It seems like a lot of other things get forgotten in the mad rush for a bottom line. My father values success above everything else. He’ll cut me off in a heartbeat if I can’t perform. And my stepmother is worse. I don’t have any stepbrother or sisters, but that wouldn’t stop her from encouraging him to slough me off if she ever thought that I wouldn’t continue to help supply her with the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to. So you see”—he smiled crookedly—“we aren’t that different after all. Our parents are equally focused on their own selfish desires, regardless of what happens to their children.”
Before she could think of more than how odd it was that Sean was involved in the family business, and that he would talk about his father cutting him off if he couldn’t perform, when he was still in high school, Meaghan approached them. Not from the party side, but from the garden, out of the shadows. Staci was startled by the other girl’s sudden appearance; Sean, though surprised, seemed more angry than anything else.
“Meaghan. I was having a private conversation with Staci. What do you want?” Very subtly, Sean had pushed Staci back and to the right of him, so that he was slightly between her and his cousin.
Meaghan tossed her hair back and smiled at Staci. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was the sort of smile that Staci had seen—
—on Brenda, when she looks at Dad!
“I was just coming to see how you and your special town-friend are doing, Sean. The rest of your guests are missing you. Would you like me to take her to—”
“No!” Sean took a step forward towards Meaghan, until he was almost nose to nose with her. For the briefest moment, Staci thought that he was going to hit his cousin, right then and there. “You don’t have any business being around her, especially when I am talking with her. I’ll go back to the party when I feel like it.” He seemed to catch himself for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at Staci before leveling Meaghan with a stare. “You need to leave. Now.” His tone didn’t leave any room for argument.
Strangely, Meaghan didn’t seem in the least put out. She ran her fingers through her long hair and smiled again, a smile that this time looked supremely self-satisfied. “Why, of course, Sean. I was only trying to be helpful. But if you don’t want my help, that’s all right with me.” Before Sean could retort she turned on her Jimmy Choo stiletto heels and stalked back to the party with her hips swaying.
“Sean, I’m sorry about that…I see what you mean about them—” Just as she reached for his arm, Sean whirled on her. She had seen his face that angry before, once, when he was talking with Finn. It scared the hell out of her, especially now that it was directed at her. The expression lasted for only a flash; then he was back to looking apologetic and bashful.
“No, I’m sorry, Staci. My family b
rings out the worst in me, sometimes.”
The conversation seemed to turn into…little nothings. Not long after that, Sean escorted her back to the party. The rest of the gang were cleaning up on a Team Deathmatch round on the game system, save for Wanda, who was still educating Morrigan on the finer points of Goth fashion. The remainder of the evening continued on like that; Sean whirling her from one conversation to the next, everyone stuffing themselves at the buffet table, and generally having fun. But Staci couldn’t shake a tickle at the back of her mind, and what strangely felt like a knot of ice deep in her gut.
The way Sean looked at me after Meaghan found us…It gave her chills, and not the good kind. He had been very quick to shut Meaghan down at the very idea of separating the two of them…he actually looked like he was ready to become violent, at that. She didn’t know exactly how she felt about that. On the one hand, it was…well, it was the sort of thing you saw in movies, where the guy would do anything to protect his girl. But on the other hand…
He’s under a lot of pressure. And it was clear that Meaghan was trying to push his buttons. Of course he’s going to be short and snap a little bit after something like that.
…but…
Just as she was beginning to give in to her unease, Sean took her a little aside from the rest during a lull. “Staci, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. About your mother, I mean, and I can at least do a little something to make your life easier.” He took her hand in his, and held it gently. “And this will be no problem, and it won’t make any problems for me. Father has me managing all the entertainment venues we own down in Silence, and one of them is your mother’s bar. I’m going to have a word with her boss.” He held up his hand. “Nothing to worry about—but he has alcoholics in his family, and he knows how to handle them. He’ll make sure your mother doesn’t drink on the job, and that if she shows up under the weather, he’ll start making her come in early enough that he can get her sobered up before she starts her shift. And he won’t fire her. I hope that will help you feel a little more secure.”
Silence Page 17
