“Nice to meet you,” I shout after her as she speeds down the hall.
“Stay out of the wine cabinet,” she calls out. “I mark the liquor.” Her voice melts into reverberations as she disappears down the complex maze of hallways.
“She marks the liquor?” I’m shocked by this. Imagine her surprise if she discovered her son’s outright illegal misuse of questionable vegetation. That the supervising spirit she saw fit to gift him with on his sixteenth birthday was essentially buying. “I thought your parents were still together.”
“That’s because my dad still lives here,” he shrugs. “Big house.”
That would be my luck—Tad and Mom divorcing only to have Tad still neatly tucked in her bed at night because of how much financial sense it makes.
“Gage still giving you the cold shoulder?” He leans over the counter and snaps up a handful of cookies.
“It would appear.”
“Weird about Chloe disappearing,” Ellis locks eyes with me. His expectations of a confession are high, I can tell.
“She’s a little runaway,” I sing it soft like a dream and give a tiny smile of approval.
“You know something.”
“I know that Gage most likely won’t be joining me for the big company dinner my mother is dragging me to on Saturday. Wanna come with?” I take the smallest cookie and pop it into my mouth, the molten chocolate chips sear into my tongue.
“I’ll be there.” His eyes glow with pleasure. “And, about that DVD. I still can’t get over what it looked like was happening between us.”
An image of me on my knees in pain and Ellis unzipping his jeans ready to baptize me with a golden shower flies through my mind.
“It certainly painted a picture,” I say.
“So, back to Chloe.” Ellis squints into me with a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I guess you were really ticked off at her for outing you like that.”
“I’m perpetually pissed at Chloe. I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t think she’d run away.”
“And I’m saying I don’t have one idea of where Chloe Bishop might be.”
Ellis gives a dirty smile. “And I’m saying you do.”
Chapter 46
Sing the Blues
All week West Paragon High rides the coattails of Chloe’s mysterious disappearance. You’d think we were ringing her curtain down the way the masses huddle in grief, moan like ailing canines in front of the news cameras that set up shop on campus. If any good came out of it, about three-dozen kids scored some serious airtime exploiting the travesty of not having an army of triage counselors on the ready. The entire segment led to a funding debate, and now the School Board is reviewing the matter.
Not everyone is broken up about her abrupt departure. Emily has happily embedded herself into Ethan’s arms, consoling, soothing away his pain with the balm of her affection.
Gage still hasn’t bothered responding to my multiple attempts to accost him verbally, either, in person, written or electronic. He holds strong to his punishment. He’s cut off the oxygen supply to my world, pulled away so completely it leaves me languishing in the vacuum of his absence.
Rumor had it he was at West on Friday picking up work, but by the time I raced down to the main office he had already left. I overheard the secretary say he’d be back in class next week, that he had just received the doctor’s clearance. This buoyed my mood until I realized that I was probably better off with him ignoring me behind my back rather than the prospect of him openly refusing to acknowledge my presence. I couldn’t take that. It would be too much to bear.
I imagine him walking down the hall laughing with a throng of beautiful girls, looking through me as if I were made of glass. The idea of his stony silence delivered firsthand, breaks me.
On Saturday night, Ellis picks me up and we drive down to the Harbor Lights Ballroom at the Paragon Resort. West had its winter formal here, that was the night of the inadvertent Mustang romp with Logan, the night Chloe decided to relinquish Gage to me right before she drilled my fender into his intestines. I don’t need a supervising spirit to light drive me back to that night. I know in my heart what she did.
Surprisingly the resort is just as raucous as the night of winter formal, only the girls filling in the eveningwear sport more wrinkles, longer dresses and far less attractive men on the crook of their arms. Trolls I tell you, every one of them that works for Althorpe. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to discover there’s some troll underworld woven into the infrastructure of the corporation.
Mom and Tad mingle freely with Demetri and Darla by their sides.
Figures.
Demetri’s manner of brainwashing my mother into loving him is strikingly similar to Chloe’s—hang around long enough in hopes to wear down their defenses. Didn’t work so well for Chloe, but Demetri seems to have perfected the snow job to a science. I watch as my mother freely wraps her arm around him, tweaks his shoulder as if offering a massage. She laughs far too easily at whatever comes flying out of his mouth, and I bet if given the opportunity she’d bake him a batch of whole-wheat cookies with that lame chocolate substitute which smells suspiciously like feet. It’s hard to stand by and watch as Lizbeth Landon vies for girlfriend of the year award.
“I know her,” Ellis lights up while looking at some girl across the room. “She’s that chick from East I’ve been trying to hook up with for the past six months.” He looks perturbed by this. “I’m gonna go over.” He whips by so fast he leaves a breeze in his wake.
“Alone and beautiful.” Marshall leans in shoulder to shoulder, touches my hand with the back of his. “My absolute favorite combination.”
“I thought you had a thing for angel wings,” I say, adjusting my red pullover dress from a couple Christmas’ ago. “And by the way I’m not alone. I’m here with Ellis.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Harrison. First you burn through the Olivers, then this dolt of a demotion—my how the mighty have fallen.”
Five freaking minutes and Ellis couldn’t be loyal to me as his date. I’ve always suspected he would so make a lousy boyfriend.
“I, however, would be loyal to the grave,” Marshall is quick to interject after so rudely reading my thoughts. “And seeing that I am an immortal, you would have my undying love forever.”
I cringe when he says that final word.
“Yeah, well, forever’s not stacking up to be such a surefire thing.”
“Forgive my poor choice of words. Eternity—an infinite duration that human minds are incapable of fathoming.” He turns into me and steps in uncomfortably close. “My love blooms in triplicate each day for you, Skyla. I’ve never felt so charged, so alive, for another in my entire existence.”
I stare at him wild-eyed, watch as his chest pulsates with excitement as he breathes the words. It’s strange having Marshall proclaim his love for me and yet somehow exhilarating. Gage has left my thirsty soul parched for affection.
I reach up and touch the hard line of his jaw.
“You are a gorgeous creature,” I breathe. “Any woman would be more than pleased to have you.” I let my hand sink in measure with my heart as I think of Gage sharing his future with some nameless, faceless girl.
“I have everything in my power to take you, Skyla.” Marshall veils the threat with a thin smile. “The authority, the ability to bend your will to desire me. It would be stronger than anything you’ve felt for the Olivers combined, but I choose not to use it.”
“Sounds perfectly criminal. The mercy is appreciated,” I muse.
“It’s freedom I give you,” his features soften. Marshall glows serene, befittingly gorgeous. Nights like these were designed to showcase his beauty. That he should grace the common day, deprived of champagne and caviar, women in jewel tone dresses, those would be the true crimes here.
“Freedom to love anyone I wish,” I nod, understanding full well what he really means—freedom to choose him. “Say, how
would one get out of that weird mirror, back at Demetri’s? You know, in the event one fell in.” I’m quick to change the subject.
“The cranial ornaments weren’t enough to deter you?” His eyes sharpen on mine. He knows damn well what I’m talking about.
“Chloe fell in the mirror, Emily pushed her. You promised me a beheading.”
“I promised no such thing. I simply implied it to dismiss your eagerness to delve into mischief. In the event you’ve failed to make the observation, you, my dear, are prone to catastrophe.” He gives an amicable smile. “Judging by the length of time Ms. Bishop has decided to indulge herself, she is very much enjoying her new world.”
“Well, she can’t stay there. People are starting to talk. The All State competition is coming up and she’s falling behind in her classes.”
“And for a minute there I thought you were rooting for the beheading,” he gloats. “From this new line of debate I would gather you were trying to mother her. If you’re so concerned, crawl in and extricate her yourself.”
“No thanks. I prefer my head attached to the rest of me.”
“Death won’t find you there. As long as you’re not the control subject, you’re safe.”
“And to get out?”
“Simply crawl back the way you came.”
“What if it gets sealed over and I get stuck?”
He considers this a moment. “If I’m available, I’ll oversee the situation.”
My mother calls us over and we take our seats for dinner.
Marshall is going to supervise.
I think I just found myself a supervising spirit.
Chapter 47
Table Talk
Tad has arranged for an elderly man with a shock of white hair and his much younger, stunningly beautiful—alarmingly pubescent wife to join our bawdy bunch. Turns out the geezer is Tad’s Regional Supervisor, so I find it actually quite amusing to watch good old Taddy dearest bring kiss ass to an all new low. Plus, the fact Mrs. Regional Supervisor has two flesh covered cantaloupes held hostage in her dress trying to maneuver an Alcatraz worthy escape—it’s going to make for a fantastically entertaining evening. I count four times her left nipple peeked out at us, and for the first time ever, I’m thankful Gage isn’t around to witness the salacious event.
Ellis on the other hand, is soaking it in, memorizing it for the pornographic replays he’ll indulge in later, openly staring down Mrs. Supervisor and her bizarre animatronic breasts. I totally swear it looks like someone is manipulating them by remote control from across the room just to mess with us. It’s not natural the way they rise and fall, bob and whinny as they try to peer at the world outside the impenetrable blindfold she insists on keeping over them.
Mr. Regional Supervisor excuses himself from the table. Probably going to take his magic little pill in an effort to warm up the engine a good four hours in advance.
“So who’s the new cutie?” Darla winks over at Ellis. “New boyfriend so soon?” She offers an approving nod.
“Sure it is,” Tad swirls the wine in his glass. “Skyla changes boyfriends regularly. She has ‘em all mapped out like a crop rotation.”
Emily laughs.
I witnessed her knocking back a couple glasses of bubbly on the company’s dime when she thought no one was looking. And, I have to say, she and Ethan make a way better looking couple than Chloe and Ethan ever did or will. Chloe and Ethan felt a lot more disingenuine, sort of like the aging supervisor and his augmented lady suitor. You know you’re supposed to treat them like a couple, but deep down inside you’re snickering at the financial implications of it all.
“Please refrain from making our guest uncomfortable,” Mom chides over to Tad.
“Be comfortable,” Tad offers an unconvincing nod at Ellis. “Dinner is on the house—loosen up your buckle son and open the hatch.”
Figures. It’s Ellis who receives Tad’s backward blessing.
“So, Brielle,” Mom is quick to relegate the topic, “please—share the baby names you’ve come up with thus far.”
“Kaliope,” Brielle widens her smile, examining each of us for our spontaneous reactions. “Lie for short, if it’s a girl, and Beau-Geste if it’s a boy.”
The entire table takes a breath. It’s not that there is anything wrong with those names—it’s just that collectively, they’re so non-ubiquitous. That, coupled with the fact she plans for her newborn to catch some dreamy Zz’s in a casket, well, it all sort of spells out trouble with a touch of blasphemy. I’m betting Drake and Brielle won’t be strangers to the Social Services Department.
“I’m not sure Lie works as a nickname,” Ethan of all people pipes up as the voice of reason.
“It works for Skyla,” Melissa is quick with the attack.
I scowl over at her a moment. Little does she know I’ve been cataloging the injustices that the Landons have been invoking on the Messenger arm of the family.
“We’re gonna get matching tattoo’s once we decide,” Brielle continues. “The baby, too, as soon as it’s safe.”
“Count me in.” Darla swipes up a dinner roll, breaks it in half and submerges it generously in her wine goblet. “You never need a good reason for a tat.”
Demetri studies his date before clearing his throat. “I think having the name of someone you love permanently emblazoned upon your flesh is a monumental gesture,” he nods into my mother as if he were speaking from experience. I half expect an unveiling of my mother’s effigy across his hairy chest at any moment. Just the thought makes me gag.
I bet tomorrow he’ll hypnotize her into embroidering his name onto her forehead. And oddly enough if he pays for it I really don’t think Tad would mind. Have I mentioned, moron?
“Right,” Darla holds up her glass and toasts without reason, “but you don’t need some lifelong dedication to have some reckless fun at the, Ink and Kink,” she nods. “We should go sometime, draw our names in a valentine right across our hearts.” She leans into Demetri with all of the trappings of seduction but it comes off as fierce desperation instead.
The table grows quiet. Darla is a hard act to follow linguistically or otherwise.
“Can’t believe that girl took off again,” Mom balks.
Ha! I wasn’t the only one that put desperation and Chloe together. Plus this twist in our conversation takes the edge off of Darla and Demetri’s awkward exchange of needles and love, blood and the like.
“Her parents have launched a full investigation of what might have occurred that afternoon at the Estate.” Demetri is quick to share.
“You get the case?” Mom mouths the word with pride as if Chloe’s disappearance could be the crowning moment of his career. Oddly, this is probably true.
He nods. “So far I’ve no reason to suspect foul play.”
“Emily saw her last,” it speeds out of me for no good reason.
“Skyla was upstairs with her,” she fires back. “I had to take off and the two of them were all alone.” Emily spills the lie easy as oil.
“I thought you said she had to leave?” I know for a fact that’s what she said. She might think she can pin me for this, but little does she know I can bear false witness with the best of them. Hell, someone should call Guinness because I’m about to break a fabrication record. “In fact, I thought I heard you two arguing right before you bolted for the door. You looked pretty shaken up about the whole thing.” I dart a quick smile.
“Shut up, Skyla,” Emily doesn’t blink. “It was you who was arguing with her. Everyone here knows how much you hate her and why. No one could blame you for wanting to off Chloe. Not after that DVD she showed everybody—exposing you.”
Shit!
Mr. Regional Supervisor returns without invoking the proper suck up greeting from Tad, inquiring on the amenities, was it one flush or two.
“What DVD?” Mom’s voice is laden with concern.
“Judas Priest.” Tad plucks the napkin from his neckline.
“This isn’t X-rated m
aterial—is it, Skyla?” Mom’s eyes expand the size of dinner dishes.
“Of course it is, Lizbeth,” Tad is quick to inform. “Why else would it be a relevant topic of conversation?”
“Is that why Gage left you?” Mom leans in. “You made some bawdy movie of the two of you in secret? Oh God, it was with that old boyfriend—his brother, wasn’t it? Tell me you’re still a virgin, Skyla.” The slight uptick in her voice is enough to halt conversations in a three-table radius.
I shake my head a little. I swore up and down I wasn’t going to hammer home the topic anymore. I won’t say it, even if she begs me.
My dear, Love, you’ve landed yourself in quite the pickle, Marshall gleams a wicked smile. Confess your lack of carnal knowledge, and put the fire of indignation out of both your mother’s heart and mine.
“Not on your life,” I whisper.
“Knew it.” Tad slaps the table so hard every bit of crystal dances to the left. “She admitted it.” This pleases him to no end.
Demetri takes a tired breath. “Looks like I have a new lead in the investigation.”
My mouth opens to correct them then closes again, and I land an awkward smile at Tad’s supervisor who doesn’t bother hiding the lascivious look in his eyes.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My mother’s face drips with disappointment.
I’m going to yank Chloe out of the realm of horrors long enough to take myself off the suspect list, then I’m going to behead her myself and push the rest of her right back in.
For damn sure I’m not going in there alone, but which one of these lovelies is going to come with me?
I pin Ellis with a look.
Chapter 48
Dance the Night Away
Dinner ends with a bang—almost literally. The blond bombshell and Darla try to outdo one another by pawing all over their prospective dates. What with all the climbing and lap sitting, the moaning, the crying out of names, it certainly takes everyone’s mind off of me starring in my own tawdry tale. With two live scenes playing out in real time, who cares about my post-production endeavors?
Expel Page 24
