The Seers

by Julianna Scott

  “I know, but not with your hair done and make-up on. Have you ever worn make-up this many days in a row?”

  “Very funny. What do you have planned tonight?”

  “Don’t know yet. Steven said he wanted to talk to me about something, so we are meeting up later, and from there, who knows. What about you? Ready to party?” she asked, doing a little dance.

  “I guess. Though to be honest, I’m really nervous.”

  “Why? You’ve been mingling with the bigwigs for days now, this is only the younger ones. It should be a piece of cake.”

  “And it probably would be if Shannon wasn’t going to be there. I’ve barely seen her or her mother since this whole engagement thing, and I have no idea what to expect from her.”

  “Why are you still letting that spoiled little harpy get to you?” Chloe asked, having been all too caught up on my Shannon drama. “She’s horrid, not worth a moment of your time, you know this, and yet you still let her frighten you into a state? Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I moaned, plopping down into the edge of the bed. “I can’t help it. I’m not used to dealing with people like her, at least not when they are coming after me. I defend other people, that’s my thing. I’m no good at fighting when it’s just me out there.”

  “But that’s just it, love, you don’t have to fight,” she grinned, coming to sit next to me. “You’ve already won. You got her man.”

  “Yeah,” I snorted, “except he wasn’t ever her man, and I don’t really have him.”

  “But she doesn’t know that, now does she?” I shrugged. “Of course not. Listen to me, it’s all attitude. I know you know that, now you just have to use it. You are too strong to let someone make you feel the way she has. Time to man up… or lady up, if you will.”

  “I know, I know,” I groaned.

  “Good,” she said, “now get up and put your shoes on, Bastian will be here for you any minute.”

  With a huff, I pulled myself onto my feet, and as if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

  “Evening Bastian,” Chloe greeted him as she opened the door.

  “Good evening Chloe. Is my date ready?”

  “She’s shoeless, but otherwise…”

  “I’m ready, I’m ready. Come on,” I hooked him by the arm and towed him out the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “And a good evening to you too,” he snarked, freeing his arm with a chuckle and following behind me.

  The social that night was not in the manor itself, but in a large tent that was set up outside. On approach it looked like your typical white, wedding reception style tent, but the moment we stepped inside, it was like being in a high end club. The walls were draped with dark fabric, there were clusters of leather furniture dotting the perimeter, a huge under-lit fiberglass dance floor stretched the entire center of the floor, and all that was just the décor. A DJ booth took up one of the shorter walls, while a wet bar flanked by dessert tables spanned the opposite. There were servers passing drinks and hors d’oeuvres, lighting that set the mood without giving you a headache, and even a waterfall of fog with tiny flecks of glitter that cascaded over you as you entered, almost as though you were stepping into another world.

  “Would you like to sit?” Bastian asked over the music.

  “Sure,” I called back.

  We found a crescent-shaped white leather couch that was thankfully closer to the bar than the DJ, and took a seat. As we looked out over the dancers on the floor, I began to carefully scan the room for Shannon, not willing to let her catch me off guard.

  “She’s over there,” Bastian said, leaning into me and nodding toward a group of people on the opposite side of the room.

  “Got it,” I said, embarrassed to have been caught. But Bastian either didn’t notice or was kind enough not to rub my face in it.

  The evening crawled by uneventfully as we sat on our couch. Occasionally someone would come over to say hello to Bastian or congratulate us, and we would converse, but thanks to the volume of the music, conversations were generally short.

  About an hour into the night, Bastian slid closer to me and leaned toward my ear. “You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “This isn’t really my thing.”

  “So I see. Would you like to leave?”

  “No, I’m fine, really,” I smiled. There was nothing I wanted more than to take him up on his offer, but I told Jocelyn and everyone else that I could do this, and sitting through uncomfortable parties without running away at the first opportunity was part of the job.

  “You’re not fine,” he said, standing then taking my hand and pulling me up with him. “But lucky for you, I know exactly what you need.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is,” he said with a wry smirk. “You need to dance.”

  He tried to lead me out on to the floor, but I was able to stop him before anyone took notice. “OK, no, this is not what I need,” I said, my eyes silently begging.

  “Why not? We’ve danced before.”

  “Yes, but this isn’t the kind of dancing that I’m any good at,” I told him, cringing at the thought of trying to dance to the modern club anthem currently thumping in the air.

  “Well, that’s where having a marvelous partner such as myself is a blessing. For where most people hear only a generic dance beat, I hear only a salsa.”

  “No… this?” I pointed up with an expression like he’d lost his mind.

  “Why not? Can’t you hear it?”

  I began to count the steps in my head to the beat and though I never would have come up with it on my own, turned out he was right.

  The look on my face must have given me away, because he grinned and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  I looked at his waiting palm and grinned in spite of myself. “Why not?”

  For someone who had been dead set against dancing, it turned out to be the most fun I’d had since coming to Adare, and just what I needed to get me out of my funk. We danced the salsa, rumba, a two-step waltz, and even a tango, all to modern pop and dance-mix songs that I never would have even thought to attempt a traditional style of dance to. It was a blast. Even the fact that we had to remain serious while on the dance floor didn’t dampen my enjoyment, as it became almost like a game: who could make the best dance-face without laughing. Bastian had been right, dancing was exactly what I’d needed to get me feeling relaxed, happy, and back in the groove. Unfortunately, after dancing seven consecutive songs, the same could not be said for my feet.

  “I’m going to sit the next couple out,” I told him when he tried to take my hand for the upcoming number.

  “You sure?”

  “My feet are,” I smiled.

  “Lightweight,” he teased with a tsk. “Come on, we’ll get something to drink.”

  But no sooner had he finished speaking than a different voice pierced the air behind us. “Good evening, Becca.”

  It was her.

  I turned toward the sound and saw Shannon standing not four feet away from us, looking stunning in a black cocktail dress, and offering me something she never had before – a smile.

  “Hello,” I nodded, not entirely sure what was going on.

  “Shannon,” Bastian greeted her, with a kiss to her hand. “You look lovely as always.”

  “Thank you, Bastian,” though somehow the tone she used was more of an “of course I do.” “Becca,” she turned to me, “would you mind terribly if I borrowed your escort for the next dance? That is, unless you planned on dancing yourself,” she smiled politely.

  Please, bitch, you knew I wasn’t, you saw me leaving the floor…

  “Of course I don’t mind,” I said, placing my hand on Bastian’s arm. “He’s all yours.”

  When I looked up at Bastian, I could see something was wrong, but I couldn’t tell what. Then again, I had just given Shannon permission to fawn over him for at least the next two minutes, so maybe a slight panic was just
ified.

  “I’ll just be sitting,” I told him, nodding to our still-vacant couch.

  He looked down at me pointedly for a fraction of a second. “Tell her no,” he whispered quickly from between his teeth.

  “Bastian,” Shannon called him, something like triumph lighting her face. “May I have the honor?”

  He hesitated a long breath before answering, looking at me expectantly. Did he really want me to tell her no? Why? He couldn’t be that desperate not to dance with her, could he? Was I missing something? His face told me I was, but all I could do was furrow my eyebrows the tiniest bit and let him know I didn’t understand.

  “I… suppose,” he finally agreed, “if Becca doesn’t mind.” He glanced at me once more.

  “Not at all,” I said, determined to be the bigger person, “have fun.”

  With a cordial smile, I turned and walked back over to the couch, proud of the way I’d handled myself. Clearly she’d thought she could get a reaction out of me by trying to dance with my fiancée, but the joke was on her. No more petty games for me, I was rising above it all.

  Or so I thought.

  However, the moment I sat down and looked back over the room, I saw that something was very wrong. Almost every eye in the tent was suddenly on me, their owners whispering, and pointing, some even covering up laughter. They would watch me, look over to Shannon and Bastian on the dance floor, then come back to me, all while I pretended not to see them. Clearly Bastian had been trying to warn me, but what had I done? I’d been the bigger person; I’d done the right thing.

  Hadn’t I…?

  But the question hadn’t even fully formed in my mind before I began to pick up traces of the ever-growing current of whispers flowing around the room. “Can you believe her? For heaven’s sake, they are supposed to be engaged… Doesn’t know how things are done… Look at her, she has no idea… I expected more from her… Well, she is American… Completely clueless…”

  Focusing my gaze on the natural center of the room, I called up every lesson I’d learned over the past few days and fought to keep it together.

  Don’t shrink away from their stares…

  Don’t let them see you sweat…

  Make them believe you don’t care…

  That you can’t see them laughing…

  …or hear what they’re saying…

  But what had I done?

  Helpless and confused, I looked out to the floor, hoping to catch Bastian’s eye, but instead all I found waiting for me was Shannon’s – and it told me everything I needed to know in two silent words: I win.

  In that instant, everything came together and I realized my mistake. I’d unwittingly let her beat me by allowing her to exploit my ignorance. Clearly I should not have stepped aside and let Shannon dance with Bastian. Maybe it was because we were engaged, or maybe it was a general territory thing, I had no idea. But for whatever the reason, it was obviously not the way things were done here unless you were the sort of person willing to be stepped on. I’d just let Shannon prove to herself and the rest of the world that she was still top banana, and the worst part was that she’d known I would. She knew that Bastian would never be so rude as to refuse her a dance in a public setting, and she also knew that I wouldn’t know enough to refuse her for him. She’d played me and won, fair and square.

  But of course that wasn’t enough. Now that I knew it, she had to rub my face in it.

  Fully aware that I was watching, she took her victory to the next level. She began dancing around the floor like a professional, adding spins and flourishes every chance she got, whether the move called for it or not. Bastian may have been leading, but Shannon was obviously running the show, forcing him to match her style and intensity with every step she took.

  Her message was clear; she was better than me, more refined than me, a better match for Bastian, and above all else, she had beaten me.

  And now, everyone knew it.

  But as I watched them dance though tear-stung eyes, I realized something. Something I’d already known, but now was magnified by his stoic and formal movements compared to her flowing and natural ones. He couldn’t stand her. And that show was my secret weapon.

  Smiling more naturally now, I watched them finish their dance, no longer minding the stares and whispers from the rest of the room. When they finished, I stood with a confident smile and applauded, prompting everyone else to follow my lead. When Shannon looked up and saw me, her triumphant glow began to fade.

  “That was incredible,” I beamed, walking out toward them as the applause died down and the next song started up. “I wish I could move like that.”

  “You’re too kind,” Shannon said, her smile forced now as she tried to play off her complete and utter confusion.

  “Would you care for another dance, my dear?” Bastian asked me.

  “I would, but are you sure you wouldn’t like a rest?”

  “No,” he took my hand. “I am quite all right.”

  “In that case, I would love one,” I said, letting him lead me past a dazed Shannon and onto the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as soon as we were out of earshot. “I tried to tell you–”

  “It’s fine,” I smiled as I turned to face him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

  “It looks that way,” he grinned, glancing quickly over my shoulder to Shannon. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan,” I raised my eyebrows, “is to smile.”

  I grinned up at him as I took his hands and started moving my shoulders to the beat. The fun upbeat pop song that was playing had been exactly the sort of music I’d hoped for when devising my little scheme, and it only took a second for Bastian to pick up on my groove and start moving with me. What we were doing wasn’t a swing, or a mambo, or a cha-cha, but rather a hybrid, taking moves from all those dances and more, combining them and weaving together an improvisation that was all our own. It was bouncy, it was quirky, and it was fun.

  “Come on,” I said, when I saw that Bastian was pressing his lips together, trying his hardest to remain casual and aloof. “I know you want to smile, let it out.” His cheeks quivered, but he still fought it. “Come on…” I said, making a face as I dusted off my shoulders to the music. He huffed a chuckle through his nose, but that wasn’t good enough – I wanted teeth. A few beats later he led me in a turn, and when I came back around with my eyes crossed, I finally broke through his shell. He let out a laugh that had the whole room looking at us, and it was at that moment that I knew I’d done what I had set out to do. We were having fun. Together.

  It no longer mattered that Shannon had danced with Bastian, because now she was the one who looked like a fool. I was the one he wanted to dance with. I was the one who truly knew him. I was the one who had a real relationship with him, even if it wasn’t quite what they all thought it was. Bastian was currently wearing a smile – a real smile – which was something that I knew the vast majority of the people there had never seen on him before. And that was because of me. Shannon could do what she wanted. I was the one with the real power.

  And now, everyone knew it.

  By the time the song was coming to an end, we had the attention of the entire room, and almost every face watching us had at the very least an amused grin or smile playing on it. Every face but Shannon’s, that is, which glared at the floor in front of her as her cheeks flushed from cream to pink to red.

  Bastian finished our dance by twirling me into a playful dip, igniting a round of enthusiastic applause, intermixed with the occasional hoot, whistle, and finally, a tinkling shower of metal clinking on glass. I glanced around and realized that many of the onlookers were tapping their drinking glasses with a spoon or whatever other bit of metal they had at their disposal, and anyone who has ever attended a wedding knew exactly what that meant.

  “I’m not sure if it was part of your plan,” Bastian said as he brought me up slowly, “but I think we may have to–”

  Befor
e he even had a chance to finish I took the side of his face in my hand… and I kissed him. He reciprocated immediately of course, pulling me against him, and inciting a fresh wave of applause and reaction from the crowd. We held there for an extended moment, and let me just say, as far as kisses went…

  …God, was it weird.

  Not that anyone else could tell as we were both acting the part brilliantly, but if it came down to it, I think I would have been more comfortable kissing Ryland.

  Awkwardness aside, there was something else grating at me as we released one another and walked back to our seats on the couch. It was the same feeling I had a few days before in the library when I’d felt bad about having to bail on Alex to leaf though books. The pull in my chest, the lead in my stomach… it was guilt.

  “Are you all right?” Bastian asked from my side.

  “I’m good,” I replied, taking a few deep breaths which helped the discomfort in my chest to ease. “Sorry about…” I gestured to the dance floor, “you know, that,” I finished, sheepishly.

  “Nothing to apologize for,” he said. “In fact, you might be something of a genius. Though I will say,” he lowered his voice, “between the smiling and the kissing, I do feel a bit used.” He winked with a grin. “But if Shannon sulking in the corner over there is any testament, I’d say it worked.”

  And she was. She was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, and eyes burning a hole into the chair across from her. I’d really done it, and evil as I knew it was, I loved it! As the last of my discomfort relaxed from my chest, I suddenly had the need to walk, be free, and celebrate.

  “I’m going to go get some air for a few minutes,” I told Bastian. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I think I’ll have a drink. Care for anything?”

  “No, I’m all right. Be back in a few minutes.”

  With a smile and – yeah, I’ll say it – a strut, I walked through the tent, back through the sparkly fog, and into the chilly night, taking a deep breath of the damp fragrant air.

  I did it. I really did it. It was over. No more having to deal with Shannon and her crap. No more dreading every gathering, every meal time, and every hallway for fear that she would be there. I was free.