Victor

by Taylor Longford

  "I'm the guy with the truck," he answered with a grin.

  "If he has a truck, I like him already," Chaos snickered.

  Torrie eyes were wide as she turned in a circle and checked out the foyer. "This place is really nice, Victor."

  "It needs some work," I countered.

  "But it has so much potential," she insisted, her eyes glowing.

  "Can I have one of the turret bedrooms?" Chaos asked.

  I lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Help yourself."

  "C'mon," he told Torrie. "Let's pick out my room."

  "All you'll find is a bed and some sheets," I warned him as they started up the stairs beside me. "Let us know what you want in the way of furniture and we'll do some more shopping tomorrow."

  "Can I come along and pick out my own stuff?" he threw back over his shoulder.

  "Within reason," I answered. "We'll be shopping at IKEA again, then maybe we'll take a look in the thrift stores and see what we can find."

  They'd left the door open and I gazed outside at the trees casting long shadows on the grass. "We'd better be armed with food by the time Reason and Elaina get here," I told Walker. "They'll be busy wrapping up their year-end projects and if we don't feed them they'll forget to eat."

  "I know a great pizza place," he assured me, and we headed outside to the truck.

  Back in the center of town, we parked in a small shopping mall and made our way across the road to a little brick building with a packed parking lot.

  "Best pizza in the state," Walker promised as we stepped through the doors into the crowded restaurant.

  After ordering at the front counter, we found a corner near the window to wait for our food.

  "I thought you didn't know many people in Boulder," Walker remarked as I watched the sidewalk on the other side of the window.

  "I don't," I answered without shifting my gaze.

  "So why do you look like you're waiting for someone to walk by?"

  I sent him a wry smile. "I don't know. Wishful thinking, I guess."

  "Who is she?"

  "Just a friend," I answered. "But a really nice friend. You'd like her."

  "Maybe I'll get to meet her one day," he suggested.

  "Maybe," I allowed. "If we get lucky."

  But we didn't get lucky before our pizzas were ready.

  Of course, I hadn't really expected to see Samantha within minutes of arriving in downtown Boulder. But it wasn't entirely out of the question, either. And that thin thread of hope was the thing that made my life worth living. So I scanned the pedestrians on the streets as we traveled home. But luck failed me again.

  Reason and Elaina had already toured the house by the time we got back. We found them sitting at the kitchen table with their books open. Elaina held a yellow highlighter in her fingers and was using it to mark passages in her book as she read aloud to Reason.

  "How's it going?" I asked after I'd introduced Walker and had given Elaina a hug.

  "Fine," Reason answered looking a little preoccupied as Elaina closed her book and headed for the pizza on the counter topped with black and white tile.

  "Is something wrong?" I asked him.

  "The winner of that art contest was announced today in our Drawing class," he muttered while Elaina helped herself to a slice of pizza loaded with cheese and vegetables.

  "I take it Elaina didn't win?"

  "Nay," he sighed. "I won."

  "Well, that's not exactly bad news," I pointed out, and hitched my hip on the counter. "Why do you sound so disappointed?"

  "Because I didn't deserve to win," he complained, and pulled Elaina into his lap as she returned to the table. "Seriously, I spent ten minutes on a rough sketch. Elaina's work was much better."

  "Art's a subjective thing," I suggested, trying to make excuses for his success and reaching for a slice of pizza.

  "Victor, I drew a stork!" he snapped, and ripped a hand back through his hair.

  "You don't give yourself enough credit," Elaina argued loyally. "You're an amazing artist and your work is awesome."

  "Sure, I can draw," he agreed. "But the piece I submitted wasn't my best work. It didn't deserve to win."

  "Well, it did win," she said lightly. "So you'll just have to live with it."

  "Elaina, it was a frickin' stork. I drew it in like ten minutes."

  "And it was a very nice stork," she insisted.

  "So, what happens next?" I asked and angled my pizza toward my mouth.

  "I have to produce ten pieces this summer," he muttered. "The owner of the company that sponsored the contest wants me to bring my ideas to their open house."

  "Open house?" I questioned in between bites, not sure what that meant.

  "It's a big event with hors d'oeuvres and cocktails," Elaina explained. "It's going to be at the facility they've recently moved into. Evidently, it has a cafeteria as big as a football field and they've hired European chefs to cook for the event."

  "Sounds like fun," Walker remarked. "When is it?"

  "Two weeks," Elaina answered, and slid a sideways look at her boyfriend. "You're not going to ruin our fun, are you?"

  Reason's expression was thoughtful as he gazed into her brilliant blue eyes. "I can't help feeling there's something strange going on," he murmured. "I even got a phone call from Ms. Olander herself, inviting me to bring my family and friends."

  "Wait a minute," Walker cut in, his brown eyes suddenly wide. "Are you talking about Olivia Olander of Olander Scientific?"

  "That's right," Reason answered. "Do you…know her?"

  "Not personally," he sputtered. "But I know of her. She's like really famous in the scientific community. And really beautiful."

  "She's…beautiful?"

  "Crazy beautiful. And hot as hell. She's relatively young too. Nobody's sure how old she is but she looks like she's twenty-five. She inherited the company from her father who made his money in genetic engineering. He got started back when nobody even knew what that meant."

  "Genetic engineering," Reason barked softly. "Isn't that the science that tampers with the human gene?"

  "Not necessarily," Walker answered. "Most of the science is devoted to agriculture and improvements to stock animals. But Stan Olander came up with a number of cures in the medical field."

  This news only seemed to make my brother more pensive, his brow knitting into a deep frown.

  "Have you told the rest of the pack about the open house?" I asked.

  "Nay," Reason answered slowly. "Not yet."

  I narrowed my eyes on him. "Why do you sound less-than-happy about all this?"

  "I don't know," he answered. "I just shouldn't have won. I mean, I really shouldn't have won. Something's not right, Victor. Ms. Olander seemed real pleasant on the phone. She said all the right things. But…"

  "But what?"

  "I don't know. She just seemed kinda…fake."

  I nodded. "I guess we'll know more when we meet her."

  "Aye," he answered, eyeing me sharply. "We'll know a lot more."

  Just then, Chaos and Torrie clattered down the back stairs into the kitchen. "Pizza!" my brother shouted, towing his girlfriend behind him as he headed for the boxes on the counter. "What kind do you want?" he asked Torrie.

  "Slow down," I warned him as I watched him cram his mouth full of food.

  "Can't," he answered as he chewed. "Gotta get Torrie home before it gets dark."

  "Will you be…seeing Samantha?" I asked, trying to act casual about it, which was dumb because I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't interested. I knew it wasn't smart because it would just show that I wasn't even starting to get over her, even though I'd promised to try. But I wanted to talk about her. I just wanted to say her name and hear some kind of news about her.

  "Not me," he answered before Torrie could say anything. "I never go in the house. I say goodbye on the sidewalk."

  "Why's that?" Reason asked.

  "I don't want to give her father a reason not to like me."

 
"What's not to like about you?" Elaina exclaimed.

  "I don't know. But he'd find something," Chaos muttered.

  "He'd find something," Torrie agreed as her boyfriend started towing her toward the hall.

  "Any idea what your sister's doing tonight?" I asked Torrie, following them at a casual saunter.

  "She's going to a party," she threw back over her shoulder.

  "Oh," I murmured, panicking at the idea that she might meet someone she actually liked.

  Torrie was watching me from the corner of her eye when we reached the foyer, obviously amused by my failed attempts to act like I didn't care. "The party's up on Concord."

  "Ah," I answered, trying to act offhand as I locked my gaze on Samantha's sister.

  "Between 6th and 7th. You should be able to tell the house from the cars parked outside."

  "Right," I answered while Chaos opened the entry closet door and started sorting through the jackets.

  "You might need these," she snickered, digging a pair of knitted gloves from her pocket and throwing them at me.

  Okay, she was teasing but probably half serious too. I pulled the stretchy gloves over my hands. They were black and soft and didn't look too lame. And hopefully they'd hide any leakage issues. "Thanks," I told her.

  "Not a problem," she smirked. "But don't let her see you or she'll be mad at me for telling you where to find her."

  "Right," I said and joined Chaos at the closet to review my options for unobtrusive party-stalking. My kidskin coat was hanging behind a couple of dark hoodies. "Can I borrow your black hoodie?' I asked Chaos.

  "Can I wear your kidskin jacket?" he countered.

  "Deal," I answered and reached for the hoodie, snagging it in my fist as Chaos walked out wearing my tan jacket.

  Chapter Ten

  And when I figured it was late enough to show up at the party without being noticed, I pulled the hood over my head and made the walk to town, getting to the party in forty minutes. Scanning the cars parked along the road, I located Samantha's silver Toyota and smiled. Then I strode up the walk and through the front door.

  Inside, the lighting was dim and the music was cranked up as I turned sideways and made my way through the packed bodies, keeping my head down and my ears tuned for the sound of Samantha's voice.

  I sifted through the overlapping conversations going on around me, and when I didn't hear her voice, I lifted my head and glanced around the crowded living room, starting to worry that she might have already left with someone else, in their car. That was not a good feeling.

  Then I heard the husky notes of her laughter coming from around a corner. The clank of glass and ice as well as the echo from the tile floor suggested she was in the kitchen. "I'm driving tonight," she was saying to someone I couldn't see. "Do you have anything non-alcoholic?"

  "I think the pineapple punch is safe," a female voice suggested. "I tried it and couldn't taste anything."

  "Thanks," Sam answered. "I'll try it out."

  I leaned back against the wall in the living room and closed my eyes. This was just what I needed, the sound of Sam's voice to sooth away all the ache in my soul. And for the next half hour I eavesdropped on her conversation with her girlfriend, Sydney. Most of it was just small talk but I didn't care. I was in heaven…although I couldn't help but notice the talk got sillier as the night wore on and the girls refilled their glasses several times.

  So I started to worry about exactly what was in the punch they were drinking. And when a couple of guys coaxed the two girls away from the punchbowl for some dancing, I slipped into the kitchen and headed for the large glass tub floating with chunks of pineapple. Grabbing a plastic cup, I sampled some of the drink.

  Maybe Samantha and Sydney couldn't taste the alcohol, but one sip told me the punch was spiked. And I could tell I was dealing with some fairly strong stuff that could knock a lighter person—like a hundred pound girl, for instance—on her butt.

  Suddenly anxious to find Sam, I fought my way back to the living room and lifted my head long enough to locate her. And when I found her out in the middle of the living room floor, it was a bit of an oh-my-god moment. My jaw dropped open and I stood staring. Because she was dancing!

  Maybe that doesn't sound like a big deal. I mean, it was a party and twenty-first century teens usually do some of that at parties. But it was the way she was dancing that made me almost drop the plastic cup in my hand. The short dress she was wearing was way too tight and way too short…for any eyes but mine. It clung to her lithe curves while her body undulated to the heavy beat of the drums pulsing through the house. She lifted her arms and flicked her hands back through her long fall of brown hair while pulling off a sexy pout at the same time, her eyes half-closed and fixed on her partner.

  Grinding my fist into my palm, I checked out the guy she was dancing with and figured I could take him with both hands tied behind my back. But that probably wouldn't be necessary since his vibe told me he was a nice guy. Too bad, I thought.

  And suddenly I understood the whole male jealousy thing. Because even though I'm normally a fairly reasonable guy, I found myself standing at the edge of the living room, glaring at someone I knew to be a fairly nice kid. And I didn't just want to beat the crap out of him. I wanted to slaughter him. I was just glad I didn't have my knife hanging on my belt because I would have been tempted to use the damn thing.

  But staring across the room was a mistake. Not that Samantha noticed me. But some other girls did. Next thing I knew, a smiling young face popped up in front of my eyes, obscuring my view of the most beautiful creature on earth. And that didn't exactly improve my mood.

  "Hello," the girl introduced herself, "I'm Deirdre. I haven't seen you around Boulder before."

  "Nay," I answered. I leaned sideways to look around her and find Samantha again. My eyes latched onto Sam's hips and I swallowed hard. "No," I repeated, correcting my medieval language. "I'm new to town, actually."

  "Really," she answered, her dark eyebrows arching upward as her gaze raked down my frame in a way that wasn't exactly unfamiliar. "Well, let me know if you want me to show you around town. What's your name?"

  I didn't want to broadcast my name around in case Samantha heard. So I fished around for something else I could use, and decided to go with the first syllable of my last name. Well, that was a mistake.

  "Grey!" she squealed. "Are you serious? Your name is Grey?" Obviously amped, she turned and motioned to a bunch of girls on the other side of the room. "Hey Gina, Kimmie, come and meet this guy! You won't believe what his name is!"

  I didn't know what I'd said wrong but she was totally making a scene. And as several heads turned my way, I thought I'd better get out of there before Samantha noticed me. So while Deirdre's back was turned, I left my cup on a sideboard and slipped into the hallway where I started trying doors, looking for somewhere to hide until things settled down.

  The first door was locked but the knob turned on the second one. Inside the room, a young couple was making out on the bed, most of their clothing on the floor so I went for door number three and hung out in the dark room until I heard the girls take their search out into the backyard.

  With a sigh of relief, I pulled the hood down over my face again, and kept my head low as I sneaked back out of the room. And for the next twenty minutes, I kept my eye on Sam who fortunately didn't make any more trips to the punch bowl. But by then she didn't need it. She was pretty gone by that time, swaying on her tall heels as she danced in place. I watched her without blinking, wishing it could be me she was twisting her body for.

  The music stopped suddenly when somebody tripped over an auxiliary cord and disconnected the speakers. And while things were being reconnected, Sam wandered off looking for someone new to dance with. She didn't have far to look, but her new partner wasn't all that interested in dancing. A guy with dark hair had his arm around her shoulders and was coaxing her into the hall, toward the bedrooms. He looked vaguely familiar and beneath his jacket, he was
wearing a black T-shirt stamped with large white letters. The caption was easy enough for even me to read. It said, "Just Do Me."

  I'd seen the shirt before, on the floor in the bedroom where the young couple had been making out thirty minutes earlier. Amazingly, it was the same guy. And while I had to admire his stamina, there wasn't anything else I liked about him. Of course, it didn't help that he was with my girl. Maybe it was just his arrogance. Because, despite the short crude sentiment printed on his T-shirt, the guy looked like he had money. Lots of money. Maybe it was the blue suede boots he wore; they looked like custom work. Or the overpriced phone-watch on his wrist.

  Stepping swiftly through the dancers, I reached Sam halfway down the hall, outside an open bedroom door. I grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face me.

  She stared down at my hand for a few seconds before her gaze lifted slowly to my face. "Victor," she slurred as her eyes focused on mine in a puzzled but adorable expression that made my heart stop. "What are you doing here?"

  "Just watching out for you," I said softly. "You don't want to go into that room with that guy, Sam."

  She turned her head and looked at the guy who had her other hand. She seemed just as surprised to see him as she had been to see me. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "Colton," he answered and gave her a tug through the bedroom door while blasting me with a dark glare.

  Samantha turned back to me. "He seems nice enough," she hiccupped.

  "He's not," I told her.

  "Not what?"

  "Not nice enough for you," I muttered and pulled her back in my direction. "Believe me, Sam. You don't want to do this."

  "She's a big girl and can make up her own mind," Colton growled. "Who the hell are you, anyhow? Her brother?"

  "Something like that," I answered even though I didn't like the idea of being related to Samantha.

  "Well, you don't know what she wants, bro."

  "Yeah," Samantha argued, reeling slightly as Colton pulled her back toward him. "You don't know what I want."

  "I know you've had too much to drink," I pointed out quietly. "And I know you wouldn't do this if you were sober."