Hotwire

by Cindy M. Hogan

  How was I going to get into Jericho’s room with the wait staff around? I counted twenty in this room alone. Several moved about the room with tiny hors d'oeuvres while others stood about waiting for someone to help, and still others worked behind the bar.

  Viktor summoned me over to him, and I reluctantly walked over. He immediately pulled me to him and introduced me; his breath already stank of the alcohol. They continued to chitchat while I scoped out the room and the people in it.

  More teens crashed into the room over the next twenty minutes, adding to the loud chatter all around us, yet still no Jericho. I had to find a way to turn the conversation to things that would help me get to know Jericho and this house better. I pulled slightly away from Viktor so that I could join the conversation.

  “So, Jericho’s parents set this party up?” I asked.

  “Yep. This is his annual senior dinner. He invites all the seniors from the Academy to come. So glad I’m a senior this year. I mean, Jericho has parties out here, but this is the one everyone looks forward to their whole time at the academy.”

  “That’s very generous of them.”

  Kyle, the boy standing with us, leaned in and said, “It’s like a drop in the bucket for these people. If they wanted to be generous, they’d pay for all of us to go to college.”

  Viktor punched him in the arm, and he swayed. “You got that right.” They laughed, and then Kyle sort of pulled away from us. He massaged his arm as he walked to another group of people.

  Just as I was about to ask more questions, someone grabbed Viktor by the arm, and he turned and talked to the boy for a minute or two before turning back to me. “That was Johnson. I can’t stand him. Thinks he’s better than everyone else, and you watch, when Jericho’s parents show up, he’ll be all up in their faces, groveling.”

  “Why?”

  “Look around you. Jericho’s family is loaded. Johnson wants a piece of it and is willing to grovel for it. I hate groveling. If you want something, go for it. Kinda like I’m going for you.” He winked. Oh, brother.

  “So what? Does Jericho have his own wing in this place?”

  “Just about. His room is about the size of my entire house. You could get lost in there.”

  “Seriously? That seems so over the top.”

  “Everything is over the top here. But don’t worry. I’m here to protect you. Let’s move over there.” He motioned with his head toward a group of about ten kids standing by a large window draped with rich, creamy fabric. I noticed that Viktor wasn’t the only one putting a little something in his drink. I’d seen four others do the same thing in a matter of minutes. I stopped looking for it, resigning myself to the fact that, despite the glamorous surroundings, it was still going to be a typical party and that I’d have to work around all the craziness and unpredictability of drunk teenagers.

  “Hey, Stewart,” Viktor said to a boy walking toward us. “I didn’t know your mug was coming tonight.”

  “Viktor,” the boy said, pulling his gorgeous date toward us, “this is Melanie. She goes to Our St. Catherine’s.”

  Viktor stood, “Nice to meet you, Melanie.” I’d only been at the school for a day and had already overheard several kids talk about the girls that went to that school. They had a definite reputation. Viktor shook her hand and then turned to me. “This is the beautiful Amber. She just started at Bell this week and is already bringing the school to its knees.”

  I looked at Viktor and when his eyes met mine, I felt my cheeks turn crimson, which was so odd, so I turned to Stewart and Melanie. “Nice to meet you.” Both shook my hand. The greeting seemed so formal. Was it the house, the furniture, the men in black suits that made us say things like nice to meet you instead of hey or hi? We made small talk with the couples near us, but I was much more focused on imagining Jericho’s phone and how to disassemble it and attach the bug in the shortest amount of time. A hum spread through the room, and I looked to see what the fuss was about. Jericho stood in an entryway to the room with a knock-your-socks-off bombshell blonde on his arm.

  “Dinner is served,” he announced, a flashy grin on his face. Behind him I saw a man and a woman, elegantly dressed and stiff looking. His parents? Jericho’s eyes met mine. Did they linger a bit long? What was Jericho doing with the car thieves? Money was definitely not his motivation. Everyone followed him out of the room and into a massive dining hall with three long tables set in a very formal fashion—all in white and crystal. A team of waiters, also all in white, descended on the room once everyone was seated. Great. More people to have to watch out for. Jericho stayed standing and then tapped on his glass, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

  “Everyone, these are my parents. I wanted to thank them for arranging for such a nice evening. Thanks, Mom and Dad.” He hugged them both, and then his dad spoke.

  “We’re glad you all could come. We love A.G. Bell Academy and are excited to have its scholars here with us tonight. Enjoy your evening.”

  It just hit me what Viktor had said earlier that Jericho’s parents had this dinner every year, not just for his son and his classmates. “Why do they do this every year?” I asked Viktor in a quiet voice.

  Viktor leaned over to me as Jericho’s parents left the room. “His parents own a company made up of engineers that regularly come up with the new best thing. His dad owns thousands of patents and adds to his collection daily. He has a huge stake in the school.”

  I nodded. When he’d told me about that kid Johnson brown-nosing, I guessed it wasn’t for the money, but for the work opportunities it would provide.

  I thought about what I’d seen as we were led into the dining area. We’d passed through a great hall with statues and busts of historical people lining it. At the end of the hall were stairs that led to what the plans listed as living quarters. The problem was that there were four areas listed like that, and all were at very different parts of the mansion. I needed to narrow it down.

  The waiters set a bowl of clam chowder and a small salad in front of each person. Like they were practiced in the art of manners, all the guests waited until everyone had received their food to begin to eat. The room filled with talk about the latest cool stuff on Pinterest and Facebook and some totally crazy Vines. Phones were passed from person to person and laughter pealed through the air. I looked on my phone too, pretending to be just as involved with the same things, but I was searching for any recent pictures Jericho’s friends might have posted of his house and room. There were a lot, but most gave me no clues because they were close-up selfies or photos of groups of kids that filled the entire frame. I’d have to ask questions to get my answers.

  It may have been my imagination or my fears taking over, but it seemed that every time I looked in Jericho’s direction that he was looking at me.

  I leaned over to Viktor. “Is this where they eat every day?”

  “Nah. When I’ve spent the night, we eat in a room near the back of the house. I think this is only used when big groups come.”

  So this room would not be a good spot for a bug.

  “I was thinking maybe they all ordered up room service.”

  “Right?” He nodded. “If it were me, I would. Guaranteed.”

  “Yeah. If I had to walk a mile for breakfast, I’d eat in bed.” I was hoping he’d give me a clue as to where Jericho’s room was.

  “You got that right.”

  Backfire. How could I ask without it sounding too nosy or like I was interested in Jericho? I bit the bullet and said, “Do you think it would be weird if I asked him to see his room? I’d like to see this big-as-a-house room. I’ll probably, no, I definitely will never have another chance to.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “You don’t need to ask. I’ll take you up there myself later tonight.”

  Double. No, triple backfire.

  I sighed and turned to the girl sitting next to me.

  The first course was followed by lobster tail, and then dessert. I managed to choke down enough bites to
not appear rude, but it was difficult. I hated seafood.

  “Hey, do you know where there’s a bathroom?” I asked the girl sitting next to me, since Viktor was talking to a guy across the table.

  “I’m not exactly sure, but you can ask the dude at the door. I’m sure he knows.” She pointed to a guy standing as sentinel near one of the closed six sets of doors around the room.

  “Okay.”

  I stood and headed for the guy. Viktor grabbed my hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the restroom. I feel a bit sick.”

  “Ah, yeah. I think there’s one right outside the room.” He gestured to a door.

  “Thanks.”

  Instead of asking the guy at the door, I took the door Viktor had indicated. That would give me an excuse to explore a little. Besides, because I had the house plans in my head, I knew exactly where a bathroom was. My goal was to cross one of the four living quarters off the list of possibilities of being Jericho’s room. Just as I got to the first landing of the wide, marble staircase, a man in one of the black suits at the bottom of the steps stopped me.

  “Miss. Are you looking for a restroom?”

  I turned slowly. “Yes! Is there one up here in Jericho’s room I could use?”

  “I think you’ve got your bearings mixed up. That staircase leads to his parent’s wing. But there’s no reason for you to go all the way to Jericho’s room. There are several lavatories on the main floor. I’ll show you the way.”

  “Oh! Great! It would be just like me to go the complete opposite direction I’d intended.” I expected him to negate or verify what I’d said, but he said nothing besides, “Right this way.” At least I’d eliminated one possibility.

  After dinner, we put our coats on and made our way outside to the expansive gardens, and we bunched up together right below the wide steps leading down from the enormous columned patio leading out to amazing grounds. Pools of water were inset into a long walkway, some with beautiful, lavish fountains. It appeared to go all the way to Long Island Sound. Bare trees and bushes lined the sides. I could make out three swimming pools and wrought iron gazebos, and dormant rose gardens dotted the property.

  Jericho remained, elevated on the cement patio before us, and said, “All right. The game tonight is kick the can.”

  Shouts of All right, Right on, and Wahoo sounded all around us, and kids high fived or pushed each other a bit in celebration.

  Viktor looked at me and grinned. “This will be fun.”

  I had to work hard not to shrink away from him. An involuntary shiver raced through me as he bumped into my shoulder.

  “This version of kick the can,” Jericho continued, “has special rules. The object of the game is to get to the can and kick it.” He pointed at the big can in the middle of a grassy area next to us. “Of course, the person who’s it will try and prevent you from kicking the can. If he or she touches you before you kick it, you’re out and have to go sit in jail, over there.” He pointed to a far section of the deck.

  “The person who’s it is trying to capture as many people as he can in the shortest amount of time.” He motioned to a huge whiteboard, which had all our names on it, on the far side of the grassy area where the can lay. A man in jeans and a black winter coat stood next to the board. “Jeremiah, there, will keep track of the score. Whoever gets the highest score will win whatever is in that mystery box.” A large box stood next to the scoreboard on the ground. “And believe me, you want it.” He flashed his teeth again.

  “There are a couple of twists, of course.”

  The place erupted like everyone had won a car. They were obviously expecting this.

  “Take advantage of whatever ones you like. Here are the rules for hiding from the person that is it: the first round will be singles. Everyone has five minutes to hide on their own. No one can share the same hiding place. After ten minutes, Mr. Heyer, here,” he indicated a tall man with dark hair and eyes, “will let off a flare, letting you know it’s time to double up. You will have three minutes to merge with someone else. If you can’t find anyone to pair up with, you have to go for the can, and anyone who gets caught without kicking the can first has to drink a shot.” He looked back toward the house as if someone might be within hearing distance and could scold him for it.

  Someone shouted out, “Here, here!”

  “What you do in that ten minutes is your own business, but be sure to share later.” He chuckled. “After another ten minutes, the flare will go off again, and you’ll have three minutes to triple up. Just imagine what can happen with a threesome.”

  Cat calls sounded all around us and then bursts of laughter.

  “After that last ten minutes, he will fire the last flare to end the game. If, of course, you can’t find anyone to merge with when the flare is shot, you must go for the can. Anyone who doesn’t kick the can loses. You will get negative five points. But as we all know, there are some things that are better than winning. Very few, but there are some. To sweeten the pot, I have another twist. There are ten pristine bottles of Appleton rum out there.” He swept his arm out over the gardens. “Feel free to drink as much as you’d like while in that hiding spot.”

  “Does anyone have any questions? Oh, yeah, those of you who are never it get the chance to win, too. The sooner you kick the can, the more points you get. Of course, if you get caught, you lose ten points. And the person who is it must be outside the red line during the hunt.”

  I noticed the large area on the ground around the can marked off with red tape. It was obvious that this game was meant to tempt the participants with either great make-out sessions, alcohol, or some mystery prize. There was something for everyone. I’m sure most everybody would be taking advantage of at least two. I didn’t want to be anyone’s prize, but I also needed time to go explore the house. I needed to plant the bugs and cameras. An entire game would take thirty minutes, but I’d never have that full time. Maybe I’d have twenty minutes max. I’d have to hang out near the patio pretending that I was trying to win by kicking the can. Others would be choosing that option too, so I wouldn’t look suspicious.

  Chapter 13

  I decided the best plan of action would be to hide close to the house and sneak in, but I needed some more direction as to where Jericho’s room was. I turned to the girl next to me, who happened to be Jericho’s date, and said, “Gosh, I can’t imagine living in this house. It’s bigger than a hotel. I bet Jericho gets lost on his way to his room.” I watched her carefully.

  Her eyes flicked to the west wing of the house before she said, “He never gets lost, but I have a few times.” She smiled, her face thoughtful.

  I wondered how often she’d been in his room. Jericho came down and pushed his way between us, his hand sliding down my arm. I stood firm, but his date moved to the side to let him in. He didn’t look at her first; his gaze settled on me.

  “I hope you liked dinner.”

  “It was great,” I said, forcing myself to be nice.

  “What are you talking about? You barely ate anything—you looked like you were being forced to eat sand or something,” Viktor said.

  I punched him, feeling heat in my cheeks. “Not cool. He didn’t need to know that.”

  Jericho chuckled. “Sorry about that. I could have my chef make you something. I can’t have you starve.” He winked at me.

  “Seriously. I’m fine.”

  He leaned in close and whispered, “I’ll come looking for you. Look for me.” He moved away from us with his date on his arm. Jericho was definitely not upset with me. Despite my revulsion for him, I considered trying to find him for half a second, but knew the more important thing for tonight was placing the bugs in his room. If I had the chance, I’d go for his phone. Maybe I’d get to do both.

  I narrowed my eyes in his direction as he disappeared into the crowd.

  “Where should we hide?” Viktor asked, having no clue what Jericho had just said. “I say we hurry from place to place
until we find one of the jackpots.”

  I swung my head around to look at him. “I thought we were supposed to hide separately.”

  “We are, but we need to know where each other will be, so we can partner up. We’ll run parallel to each other until we find the booze and then hide right by each other.”

  “Maybe I intend on winning the prize.” I waggled my eyebrows.

  “There are better things to be had in this game.” He gave me a seductive glance.

  “Maybe for you, but for someone like me, expensive prizes look pretty enticing. And I can get drinks from you any time I want.” I looked toward his coat pocket, pretending not to know what he was really insinuating.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I have something better than even this.” He patted his pocket.

  Since he didn’t let it go, I said, “Like I said, I want what’s in the box more.”

  “I’ll have to prove you wrong. Give me the chance.” He moved in, his nose just to the side of mine, his soft breath sending a whisper on my cheek and lips.

  “I’m not that kind of girl,” I said, my lips grazing his as they moved before I jerked away. The flare went up. I took off, pretending I was headed away from the house, and disappeared into the crazy crowds looking for a place to hide. I made my way west, checking for Viktor every minute or so, and then headed in the direction of the house. I hid in some tall bushes near a door leading inside.

  I watched as the boy who was it headed out in the opposite direction, looking for players to catch. I didn’t hesitate. I started up toward the house—then someone grabbed me. I resisted the urge to hurt whoever it was, reminding myself that we were playing a game. I knew it couldn’t be the boy who was it, he was all the way on the other side of the building. It couldn’t be Viktor, could it? Why hadn’t I noticed him following me? I held the scream that had lodged itself in my throat and turned abruptly around, ready to take the necessary steps to get away from him, but it wasn’t Viktor. It was Carson.