Michael took a long sip of his bourbon on
the rocks. The alcohol burned his throat, his stomach, and
eventually tore through his bloodstream, giving his brain a nice haze and
dulling the constant noise around him. It took one hell of a fight
with Sage to convince her to take a night off so he didn't have to be
home, but now he was seriously wondering what he was thinking—he hated
people. Hated crowds, hated noise, hated loud obnoxious music…
He originally planned to just hit a bar in downtown Newhaven, but one
glance inside the most decent looking pub he could find still left much to
be desired, as did its patrons, who were little more than country
hicks. On the highway to Toronto, he encountered a large building
with signs proclaiming it to be a bar and dance club. Though he had
no interest in the latter, the place looked busy, and with any luck more
pleasing company than what was in town could be found.
Inside, he
discovered—thankfully—that the bar area and dance area were quite
separate: the lower level permitted patrons of all ages, and had hundreds
of people crowding the dance floor and few tables. A wide balcony
surrounded the room, and it was on this second floor where alcohol was
served—and where Michael chose to sit—overlooking the room. Thus
far, he decided it wasn't his favourite place to spend some downtime, but
it would have to do for now…
And then his gaze settled on some
horribly familiar faces.
Goddamn it. Merri told him she and some
others were going out that night, but she'd never specified where.
And now, just as he had settled with a drink, he looked down to see
Genevieve among a group of other kids. It was impossible to escape
these stupid people.
Should have just driven to Toronto…
A closer scan of their faces revealed
Merri was indeed among them, though he hadn't seen her dressed like that
since the first day they met. For someone who usually went out of
her way to remain unnoticed, she certainly could stand out in a crowd if
she wanted to.
As if somehow aware he had just noticed them,
(which might actually be accurate considering what she was), Merri looked
up suddenly and met his gaze. She grinned, then leaned over to
whisper something to Genevieve.
Just as he worried the lot of them
would be heading up to the bar next, Merri seemed to be excusing herself
from the group, and moments later saw her heading up the crowded staircase
towards the second floor balcony.
"Are you stalking us?" she said
with a smirk as she slid into the seat across from him.
"I think
I’m actually on my way out."
"It's okay—they didn't notice you
here."
He took another sip of icy bourbon, meeting her gaze over
the rim of the glass. She grinned again, as if she found something
highly amusing, but made no effort to explain what that funny thing was.
"What?" he asked, putting the glass down. He leaned back in
his chair and crossed him arms over his chest.
"Are you here
trying to pick up girls?"
He glanced at a pair of twenty-something
women standing near the bar only a few yards away who had been watching
him for the past ten minutes. Merri followed his gaze and laughed.
"Guess you don't really need to try."
"Not usually."
"So are you here to pick up a few girls?"
"Just one will
do, actually. Are you high?"
"Uh…" Her eyes rolled
upward as she considered the question for a ridiculously long time.
"Kind of. So let me ask you something…a proposition, sorta."
"I'm not buying you and your friends any beer."
She rolled
her eyes. "Please, I've got my own fake ID for that. No, see,
I was talking to Gen today, and since she's having trouble with magic and
that, I thought I could help her. Maybe while you're working with
Sage, me and her can practice meditating?"
"I don't fucking care."
"Don't say that—this is important." Her gaze narrowed on
him, eyes growing more focused, and he figured whatever substances she
might have consumed had loosened her tongue a bit, but she was still sober
enough to get serious in a hurry. "She's really freaked out and we
need to help her."
He glanced down at Genevieve to find her
standing with a dark haired girl, laughing.
"Oh yeah, she looks
terrified." He drained the rest of the bourbon from his glass.
"I mean it. Between the magic and her dreams, she's really
upset. You should probably talk to her sometime."
"I'd rather
not."
"Why the hell do you hate her so much?"
She must
have been feeling particularly uninhibited for asking him that—he could
tell she often wondered, but never had she come out and actually inquired.
Fuck…if he'd just let that stupid bitch get her throat cut back in
the farmhouse a few weeks ago, this would all be a moot point. For a
second he was back in the moment again, watching that guy pin Genevieve to
the wall, ready to spill her blood and end her life, and Michael felt a
twinge of regret that he hadn't let it happen. It would have been
easier. Much easier. One of them dies, and so goes all
hope. This wasn't his responsibility—wasn't his concern. And
even now, he couldn't say what compelled him to finally help her. It
wasn't pity, and it certainly wasn't empathy. But he had met her
eyes for seconds that seemed to stretch on forever, and he saw
understanding in their blue depths. She knew he didn't want to help
her, and like Michael himself, she didn't understand yet why he did.
If he could do it all again? Christ yes, he'd probably let her
die…or just finish the damn job himself.
"Michael," Merri prompted
again, shaking him from his memories. "Why do you hate her?"
"It doesn't matter," he said, dragging his gaze from Genevieve to
stare at the slowly melting ice in his glass.
"But I don't
understand…" Her voice trailed off and Michael didn't need to look
up to know her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped. He didn't meet
her gaze, instead continuing to stare at the ice, turning the glass around
in his hand.
The biggest problem in keeping company with a Seer
was that she inevitably figured out things he wasn't interested in having
her know.
"Oh my god…"
He didn't respond.
"She's
the one…the one who did it, isn't she? Michael—"
"We're not
having this conversation," he interrupted.
"But—"
"We're
not having this conversation," he repeated, meeting
her eyes at last.
"You have to tell her."
"That isn't
necessary."
"Jesus, she's going to find out sooner or later—"
"It isn't important, Meredith," he replied coldly. "She
doesn't need to know and you will not tell her."
She slumped in
her chair and shook her head. "This isn't going to end well."
"It never does," he said quietly. "You should probably go
back to your friends now."
"Actually…I kinda came up to ask you a
favour. Another one."
He waited while she studied his
expression, no doubt waiting to see what she could get away with.
"And that favour would be…?"
"I lied about having a fake
ID—can you get us a couple of beers?"
"Can you pay?"
She
produced a stack of bills. "Took up a collection. Get us maybe
half a dozen?"
Michael figured it was time for a refill anyway, so
he accepted the money and took his glass back toward the busy bar.
"Oh, and uh…"
He glanced back at Merri to see what else
she might want.
"Can I borrow your cell phone for half a sec?"
Michael sighed and fished the phone from his pocket. Merri's
smile brightened as he tossed the item to her and she caught it.
"I just need it for a minute," she said.
"Take your time,"
he replied, continuing to the bar, knowing she could have all the time she
wanted but she wouldn't find what she was looking for.
Though the
bartenders checked ID, the place was crowded and no one bothered to care
who the drinks were for. Before returning to his table, he snatched
a white napkin from the counter, pulled a pen from his jacket pocket, and
scribbled down a few numbers.
Turning away from the bar, drinks in
hand, he watched Merri for a moment as she cycled through the numbers on
his phone. She didn't gaze up as he approached, and it was only when
he set the bottles of beer on the table with a faint grin that her eyes
darted up to him.
"Thanks, I just needed to give someone a quick
call," she said as she handed the phone back.
"His number isn't on
there," Michael replied.
For once in her life, Merri actually
looked genuinely startled. "I wasn't—"
Michael dropped the
napkin with Thad's phone number on the table in front of her. "David
Shaw would never speak to me directly, so I spent a lot of time calling
Thad and quickly memorized the phone number. There it is."
"But I wasn't…" She glanced down at the phone number and
flashed sudden grin. "Thanks." She scooped up the beers and
phone number as Michael sat down again.
"Be careful, Mer."
Merri glanced down at his cell phone once more and frowned.
"You too." Without explaining her cryptic comment, she turned from
him and went back down the stairs, discreetly slipping beers to her
friends once she reached them.
Though he honestly thought she should
be careful, he did hope she'd call Thad anyway. Kincaid was the only
person Michael knew that could get a hold of David Shaw, and perhaps if he
grew fond of Merri, she could eventually wrest the contact information
from him.
Michael's cell phone rang suddenly. A quick glance
at the number revealed it was local, but he didn't immediately recognize
it.
"What?" he said as he answered. Silence followed, and he
leaned his ear heavily against the receiver, the noise of the club making
it difficult to hear.
"Michael?" A feminine voice,
resembling soft velvet, spoke his name. "This is Krysta Guerin."
"What can I do for you?"
"I came across a book earlier
today…one that you and your little friend might be interested in. Do
you have time to drop by and take a look?"
He glanced at his
watch—it wasn't even nine o'clock yet. He didn’t tend to sleep much
anyway, so a short trip to her apartment wouldn't kill his entire night.
…listen to me right now when I say don't trust
Krysta, Michael… "I can be by in about twenty minutes."
"I'll be waiting."
Only fifteen minutes later,
Michael's car waited in the guest parking lot, and he approached Krysta’s
building. When he buzzed her apartment, she didn't bother requesting
confirmation of his identity over the intercom, but instead let him
straight inside.
He knocked as he reached her door on the seventh
floor, and moments later heard her call, "Come in."
Michael pushed
the heavy door open. Just inside, to his right, was the kitchen,
where Krysta sat on an island barstool, sipping from a cocktail of some
sort. She wore another silk robe, teal this time, leaving him to
wonder if the woman owned any actual clothes.
She smiled, somewhat
coolly, and slid a book across the island toward him.
"It's a
second edition," she said as he picked up the book. "You can find
newer printings in just about any occult shop, but not that old."
He glanced it over, then met her steady gaze. "That's great,
but I told you I'm not a collector."
"At the very least, you
should be able to appreciate its value."
"I'm more concerned with
practical use. The newer paperbacks have multiple translations and
more modern prefaces that I prefer."
"Still, there's something
that can be said for a nice ambience."
"Not if it doesn't have a
use."
"Well, I can see we aren't going to agree on this."
"Probably not."
Krysta stood suddenly, turned her back to
him, and started toward the bedroom hallway at the far end of the
room. "I can think of another piece you might want—and it does have
practical use."
She paused just before she turned the corner to
her room, and the teal robe slipped from her shoulders into a pool on the
ground, leaving her perfectly sculpted, naked body in its wake.
Krysta cast her dark gaze over her shoulder for a moment, smiled
suggestively, then continued on into the bedroom.
Without a word,
Michael followed.
*~*~*
Merri stood back away from the dance floor, sipping her
beer and watching the crowd. Gen and Peyton seemed to be getting
along—neither girl had left the other for most of the night. They
spent a lot of time talking and dancing—always at least a foot apart—but
Gen was absolutely glowing and there was little doubt in Merri's mind that
her friend felt things were progressing well. Whether or not Peyton
felt the same way, however, was definitely up for debate. She
appeared to be having fun, but something seemed a little off about her—a
nervousness, perhaps? Was she just cautious, or particularly on
guard? There were moments when Merri caught a certain look in
Peyton's eyes—something she couldn't quite place—but seconds later it was
gone and she seemed back to her normal self. Maybe she had a genuine
interest in Gen being more than a friend, maybe not. But as long as
Gen didn't get hurt, Merri was happy to watch it play out.
Gen's
friend Stephie had taken off at some point early on, and Merri hadn't seen
her since. The rest of the group—whose names Merri had already
forgotten—were split between dancing and sitting at a round table
chatting.
She glanced up to the surrounding balcony again, but didn’t
see Michael anywhere. Krysta must have indeed called him, just as
Meredith thought she would, and he no doubt went to meet her. Though
she hadn't actually even seen the woman before, intuition told her to be
wary. Michael had it in his head he was smarter than everyone else
and if he didn't see cause for alarm, then everything was fine…and
normally, Merri could accept that. But he seemed far too nonchalant
about Krysta—either he knew more about her than he said he did, or
something had completely blinded him to the caution he should be taking.
"We should totally go out more often," Gen said as she suddenly
popped up at Merri's side, eyes wide and a huge grin splitting her face.
Meredith glanced around. "Where's Peyton?"
"Washroom," Gen said with the nod of her head. She took a
long drink of her beer. "Seriously, isn't this awesome?"
It could be better, Merri thought, but didn't say
anything.
"Levi looks like he's doing well," she commented
instead, gaze shifting to where Levi sat with an unfamiliar strawberry
blonde.
Genevieve rolled her eyes. "With the skank of the
century. That's Kourtnee—with two E's, by the way. Talk about
parents setting their kids up to do porno or something, eh?"
Meredith took a closer look at the girl. She didn't appear
to be particularly skanky, but she did seem very interested in whatever
Levi was saying. Leaning across the table, eyes locked with his,
laughing as if on cue… And Levi looked relaxed with her, which
seemed a good thing.
"She doesn't seem that bad," Merri said.
"Yeah, 'skank' is probably overdoing it. She's in the drama
club—always the lead in school plays—and she just always seems really fake
to me. He doesn't seem to notice, though. He's been talking to
her all night."
"So should we rescue him?"
Gen
shrugged. "I think I liked him better when he was pining after Sage,
but maybe the attention will be good for him. Now…" Her eyes
traveled over the faces of the room. "…we just need to find you a
hot boy."
Thankfully, Merri caught sight of Peyton
returning. "Peyton's back," she said quickly, relieved as Gen's
attention was easily diverted.
"Ooh! Well, maybe she can
help us look for a guy…"
Merri quelled that suggestion by grabbing
Gen by the shoulders and thrusting her toward Peyton. "Go, have fun,
and don't worry about me."
"But—"
"If you want to do
something for me, lend me your cell for a few minutes."
Gen gladly
handed over her phone before heading off to meet Peyton.
Before even
thinking of calling anyone, Meredith polished off her beer. A shot
of something stronger might have made her feel a bit more relaxed, but a
cold draught was better than nothing. At last she powered on the
cell phone and punched in the number Michael gave her.
Four rings
in and knots formed in her stomach—what if Michael was being a prick and
had given her the wrong number? She wouldn't put it past him, and he
made it pretty clear he didn't want the guy around…
"Hello?"
Startled at the sudden answer, she paused for a moment.
"Um…hi." Oh, smooth, she thought with a wince.
"Hi," a male
voice said again. "So…what are you up to tonight?"
Nervousness dissipated and she grinned. There was no
mistaking that tone—it was definitely him. "You have no idea who
this is and you're ready to carry on a conversation with me?"
"Well…yeah. So what are you up to?"
"I'm at a club
with some friends and I'm having a very dull time."
"Ah. And
you decided I could liven things up?"
"Or revel in the dullness
along with me."
"Hmm. Tempting. And where is this
dullness occurring?"
"It's this place called
On the
Map. It's just off—"
"The 401—I know
it. I guess I can come by."
"You're not even going to ask
who this is?"
"No," Thad replied nonchalantly.
"But I
could be an axe-wielding maniac."
"Naw—if you were an axe-wielding
maniac in a dance club, you probably wouldn't tell me you were having a
dull time. You'd be killing people."
"And killing people is
fun?"
"It is if you're an axe-wielding maniac, or so I'm told."
"Know a lot of them, do you?"
"Just one... Maybe
two."
"Alotta people are here—how are you going to know which one
is me?"
"Well, what are you wearing?"
Merri glanced
down. "Purple shirt with a bit of black lace. Black
skirt. Black boots."
"Wow, you sound hot."
Merri
stifled a laugh. "If I was hot, I wouldn't have to call strange guys
when already standing in a room full of them, would I?"
"Maybe. So do I actually know who you are?"
"Kind
of."
"I've seen you before?"
"Uh…" She looked down
at her outfit again and sighed. "Not looking like this."
"And the plot thickens… Okay, don't go anywhere—I'll see you
in a bit."
Merri hung up the phone, her brain still not accepting
what she had just done. It was stupid. Pure idiocy. She
didn't know him, couldn't trust him…
But she was restless.
Bored. Fucking sick of hiding all the time. Against her better
judgment, she decided to return to a more comfortable skin that night; to
be a little bit more like herself. And along with that self came a
desire for fun and to take a few risks.
And phoning a complete
stranger she'd spoken to for just a few minutes several days ago
definitely qualified as a risk.
Over forty minutes
later and no sign of Thad, however, had left Meredith feeling relieved, if
not slightly disappointed.
Perhaps the fates had overlooked her
momentary lapse in judgment and any potential disasters would be
averted…or perhaps her brain was just way too sober and at last thinking
clearly again. Whatever the reason, he didn't show and she might as
well be glad of it.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight
of a person and glanced to her right to see one of Levi's friends watching
her. She couldn't remember his name, and didn't recall having spoken
to him at all that night—why the hell was he staring at her like that?
As if realizing she had noticed him there, he moved towards
her. Merri felt her skin prickle just a bit—whatever he wanted, she
probably had no interest in it.
"Hi," he said, flashing his teeth
in a grin.
Why didn't I just leave instead of waiting for
Thad to show up? She gave him a half-hearted smile of
greeting, then made a point of looking elsewhere. Just in case that
wasn't enough to make him get lost, she crossed her arms over her
chest. Drunk or not, he had to get the hint.
"Levi said you
got us a couple of drinks earlier."
Apparently, her body language
had been completely lost to him.
"Ran into a friend who offered to
get it for us," she said with a shrug.
"Yeah, well, thanks.
I'm Warren, by the way."
"Oh."
She knew he waited for her
to introduce herself, but an exchange of words even greater than what had
already passed would only serve to encourage him.
"You're Merri?"
he said at last.
"And also not interested," was her curt reply.
"Ah, I see."
Then fuck off, already.
"Just thought I'd
give a couple of you a thank you gift—you and the other new girl."
Her back stiffened and her gaze moved to him slowly. "Gift?"
Warren held up a tiny plastic bag with a couple of pills
inside. Merri guessed it was Ecstasy. How…quaint.
"Very considerate of you," she said as he cracked open the
bag. He pulled out a tablet and reached for her, intending to put it
in her mouth himself. She'd dealt with worse before—best not to make
a scene. Merri stuck out her tongue and accepted the hit, tossing it
in her mouth but wedging it between her gums and cheek. She
pretended to swallow and Warren didn't seem to think much of it.
"Guess I'll be on my way," he said, gaze going to where Genevieve
and Peyton sat.
"Maybe you could stay a little longer," she said
quickly, moving to step in front of him. Warren smiled and she tried
to mimic the way he looked at her so he wouldn't leave so quickly.
"Actually, I was thinking of getting out of here…" He raised
a brow in suggestion. "Want to come with?"
This was
definitely the last time she intended to wear such a short skirt—it
brought nothing but trouble.
She opened her mouth to object, but
thought the better of it. "Sure," she said instead, stepping a bit
closer to him. She casually put her hand on his arm and looked up
into his eyes, smiling. "Let's head around back?"
"I was
kind of thinking we could drive somewhere…"
"I don't know,
something about being out in the open like that, where anyone could walk
by…I think it would be more fun than a car." Her hand slid down his
arm, coming to rest on the little bag of E. She slid it from his
hands and slipped it discreetly into her pocket. "Meet you out there
in a few minutes? I'll pass on your 'thank you' to the girls…maybe
one of them will join us."
The stupid guy must have been tripping
balls because he bought every word of it—his eyes even widened in
excitement.
"Great—I'll see you out there."
"Be sure to
wait for me," she replied with a seductive grin.
He nearly tripped
over his own feet in his rush to make it to the club's exit.
Once
Warren was out of sight, Merri spit the pill out and dropped it on the
floor. Moron. At least she stopped him from trying to pass on
any drugs to Gen and the others. Some of Stephie's home grown
weed? No big deal. Fucking Ecstasy? No way Genevieve
needed to be on that. There were probably a couple of people in her
apartment building Merri could sell the rest of the pills to, so at least
her encounter with Warren wouldn't be a total waste. For a moment,
she almost felt bad for the guy—he'd be pissed when he realized she wasn't
showing up. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember, though.
Depressed that the closest she'd gotten to some fun was some guy
giving her E and propositioning her for sex—and a little tired—she made
her way to where Genevieve and Peyton sat.
"Hey," she said,
leaning over the table as the two other girls looked up. "I'm beat—I
think I'm gonna catch a cab home."
"Are you sure?" Gen said with a
sudden frown.
"Yeah, I'm heading out."
"Maybe we can all
go?" Peyton suggested with a bright smile. "Stop and get a coffee,
then head home?"
Genevieve looked over to where Levi sat.
"Let me just grab Lev and we can go—"
"It's still early—you should
stay." Merri snuck a meaningful glance at Peyton, then gave Gen a
quick smile. "And I don't think Levi wants to go anywhere either."
"I'll call you tomorrow?" Gen offered.
"Hmm, we should
probably meet with Sage and…get some 'studying' in."
Genevieve
made a face but didn't complain. "I guess. Meet you around
noon?"
"Sure."
It really sucked that she was leaving
alone, but standing around feeling awkward among the others wasn't much
better. Merri spotted her jacket slung over the back of a chair and
moved to get it.
"You're leaving?" a voice said behind her just as
she slipped her dark coat on.
Meredith turned and a small grin
played on her lips. "Well, see, this guy was supposed to meet me
here, but he never showed, so I thought I'd call it a night."
"Well…" Thad began, leaning against one of the thick industrial
pillars that supported the balcony. "Maybe the guy had to shower
first so he didn't smell like week old Kraft Dinner as the rest of his
roommates and apartment do, and then maybe that guy had to drive from the
city. So maybe the guy should be cut some slack?"
"Maybe,"
Merri mused, looking him up and down. He certainly didn't look as
though he'd just fallen out of bed and shown up: dark hair gelled into
spikes, crisp navy shirt straight off a hanger, and black jeans that had
to be new. He'd definitely taken time to clean up first, and was
looking drop dead gorgeous at that. Though willing to forgive his
lateness, appearances were everything, and she wasn't ready to stop
playing just yet. "But it depends on how long you've been here
scoping out the place before coming over." She nodded to the beer
clutched in his hand and noted his jacket was casually slung over his arm,
as if he'd been there awhile.
"About five minutes—I figured I'd be
better able to find the mysterious hot girl in the purple shirt from the
second floor."
"And it would be easier to slip out if you didn't
like who you found?"
"Now that would be rude of me—I'd at least
come over to say hi. After all, I did go to the trouble of
showering."
"So is this just a 'hi?'"
"If it was, I'd feel
pretty stupid for buying you a drink." He pulled a bottle of
berry-flavoured cooler from within the folds of his jacket and handed it
to her. "And to be honest, I was hoping it would be you."
"Right," she said, opening the bottle. "Bet you say that to
all the girls you receive mysterious calls from and go to meet in the
middle of the night."
"Just the cute ones with magical abilities,
actually…of which there are about three dozen, I should warn you."
"That many?"
"That I've met with this week, at least."
"Hi Thad!" a familiar voice shouted to Merri's right, and she and
Thad glanced over to see Genevieve grinning and waving manically.
When Thad waved back, she leaned over to whisper something to Peyton and
the two girls burst out laughing.
"Just ignore her—she's probably
still stoned," Merri said.
"Now I'm starting to worry…is this a
set up where Michael is going to jump out at any second and kidnap me to
extract information?"
"I have a feeling he's a little preoccupied
elsewhere at the moment—no business here, just pleasure." Merri slid
her jacket off again and took Thad's from over his arm, then tossed them
on the chair behind her. "Dance?"
"I'm terrible," he warned.
"I'll forgive you," she said, taking his hand in hers and leading
him away from the sitting area.
She pulled him into the thick of
the dance floor among bodies moving to the music and slid her arms over
his shoulders. Hips swaying, she closed her eyes for a moment,
reveling in that feeling of letting go, of not giving a fuck about
anything, of…
surrender. Christ, it felt good to
be herself again.
She felt hands travel down her body, coming to
rest at her hips, and the feeling of the cold, wet bottle of beer—that
Thad still clasped in his right hand—just barely touching the flesh
between the top of her skirt and the hem of her shirt. She shivered,
the feeling delicious to her rather than unwelcome. Merri opened her
eyes again to catch his gaze on her, and she smiled and inched closer,
pulling her arm from him to take a long sip of her cooler.
"This
is a little weird," he said suddenly with a half grin.
"Oh?"
"If you told me last week that I'd get a strange phone call and
would end up at a club dancing with the Seer of all people, I would have
thought you were a unconvincing liar."
"Bit of a celebrity, am I?"
"In certain circles."
"Well, if
this part of our evening was so
unbelievable, I guess I shouldn't tell you about what we'll be doing when
we leave here…"
He raised a brow in question, and she sensed he
didn't quite believe what she might be suggesting. "Is that so?"
"Yeah…so I'll probably just spring it on you as a surprise
later." With that, she rose on her toes suddenly and kissed him
deeply. His lips parted effortlessly against hers, and, whether he
was surprised or not, he adapted to the situation with equal ease.
As her arms tightened around his neck, Thad pulled her into a close
embrace. Neither was dancing anymore when he pulled back to gaze
down at her with a faint smile.
"So…" she began innocently.
"Wanna get some air?"
Merri sighed heavily.
Though exhausted and spent, her body still too euphoric to realize it
yet. She climbed back into the passenger seat of Thad's Nissan Versa
and her head slumped back on the headrest.
"These cars really are
roomy." She glanced over at Thad, but found his eyes closed.
"Don't tell me your asleep now…"
He cracked open an eye to look at
her and grin. "Haven't figured that out yet.
Might be dreaming."
"That seems like a horrible
waste of three perfectly nice minutes."
He looked at her fully
then, eyes shooting wide open and jaw dropping. "Hey, that wasn't—"
She laughed. Enough songs on the radio had played along to
their activities—far more than three minutes worth.
With mocking
displeasure, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes again.
"Going to sit there and sulk?"
"Nope—already
forgotten. Currently, I'm wondering what wonderful things I possibly
did a past life to elicit such a reward in this one."
"Well, you
do that while I try to figure out what happened to my underwear."
"Sitting on the backseat."
She glanced back, and sure
enough her pair of black cotton bikini briefs were strewn on the
backseat. "Funny, I thought I was supposed to be the Seer?"
"I'm very observant when it comes to women's panties, and now that
I hear myself say that, it sounds kinda creepy, and I apologize. I
actually just saw them when I glanced in the rearview mirror."
"Cheater." She angled herself between the two front seats to
reach the back to snatch up her underwear, then slid them on once more
while he disposed of the condom.
"Mind if I smoke?" she asked as
she reached for the pack of cigarettes in her jacket pocket.
"Um…actually yeah. Sorry. Mind if I kiss you?"
She shoved the pack of smokes back in her coat and pretended to
think it over. "I suppose not."
He leaned over to press his
lips to hers. One hand went to the back of her neck to pull her
closer, the other sweep strands of sweat-soaked hair back from her
forehead. He pulled back a moment to gaze at her, then gave her
mouth another peck before returning to his seat.
"I realize I
haven't even asked how old you are, and now I probably seem like such a
perv," he said, with what appeared to be genuine concern. "I have a
horrible feeling the answer lies somewhere around 'jailbait.'"
"Pretty much. Eleventh grade."
He winced. "Okay,
that's bad. So what is it? Sixteen? Please don't say any
younger than that."
"Seventeen, actually. Failed second
grade so I was held back a year. And how old are you?"
"Nineteen-ish."
He was definitely lying on that count, and
after staring in her eyes for a moment, he seemed to realize he wasn't
going to get away with it.
"All right, all right…twenty…and a
half…four months ago."
"So almost twenty-one?"
"Sure, you
could put it that way if you want to make me sound like a perv."
"Twenty-one and seventeen isn’t perv-ish," she assured him.
"I don't think you know many twenty-one-year-olds—they're all
pretty perv-ish. Hey, can I ask you something?"
"I don't
imagine I could stop you."
"How did you get my number?"
"Swiped it from Michael's phone," she said. A slight lie,
but Thad didn't need to know that Michael had willingly parted with it.
"And why did you call me tonight?"
He was serious
suddenly, intensely staring at her, and she paused before replying.
Thad clearly had something in mind, and she couldn't say for certain she
would like where this conversation was heading.
Why had she called
him? He'd seemed interested in her when she saw him on Monday, and
she'd been thinking about him quite a bit ever since. And no one
ever noticed her now—she could walk around invisibly, never getting a
second glance from anyone. But somehow, the other day, Thad saw
her. And that meant something. The group outing that
night—coupled with the fact she ran into Michael, who knew a way to
contact him—inspired her to try getting in touch. And…well…she liked
him. There was an instantaneous attraction there, and by all
accounts he seemed like a
good guy. She'd had far too much experience with
the wrong types, and Thad seemed like a welcome change.
Of course,
she saw no reason to tell him any of that. While she had a big
problem with anyone who lied to her, honesty about her own feelings really
wasn’t her strong point.
"What does it matter?" she said instead,
somewhat coldly. The heat they generated in the car a short while
ago seemed to dissipate in a hurry as tension grew.
"It matters
because I want to know. Did Michael know you found my number?"
"What does Michael have to do with this?"
"He's
manipulative. Shaw knows this—it's one of the reasons why he doesn't
want anything to do with him. But Michael wants to talk to him, and
I think we both know he'll do what he has to if it means getting what he
wants."
"Like send me to screw you in the hopes you'll lead me to
Shaw?" she snapped. Fuming, she unfolded her jacket and violently
thrust her arms into the sleeves. What the hell had she been
thinking?
"I just meant I wouldn't put it past him to be pulling
the strings somehow—"
She reached for the car door, but he caught
her arm and tried to draw her back.
"Merri—"
"He may be a
liar and an asshole, but at least he's never accused me of being a fucking
whore," she interrupted, and wrenched out of his grasp. Without even
bothering a final glare in his direction, she swung open the car door and
stalked back toward the club. Thankfully, he didn't follow.
She found Gen still sitting inside with a yawning Peyton.
Both girls looked up as Merri slumped down onto a chair.
"You
okay?" Gen asked, but Meredith didn't feel like answering her. She
managed a shrug, then occupied her time staring at the drink smudges on
the table. Fuck, she felt like such an idiot. Perhaps he
didn't mean anything by it…but maybe he did. Maybe he really thought
that she only called him because Michael asked her to, and after seeing he
could get a little action, didn't bring up that fact until much later.
"Where's Thad?" Gen said.
"Went home," Merri replied
without looking up.
"He didn't drive you?"
"Not going our
way." Christ, why the hell was she asking so many questions?
"Levi was talking about going soon—I think he wants to drive
Kourtnee home, so it'll be a tight squeeze in the car. You okay?"
Merri realized she had been sitting there sulking for a few
minutes—there was no reason to let people see this. She flashed a
quick smile, putting on her mask and assuring them everything was all
right.
"Fine. Still tired, is all."
"Me too."
Peyton yawned again. "Maybe if we all crowd around Levi and start
snoring, he'll get the point?" While she and Gen conspired to
not-so-subtly let Levi know they were all ready to go, Merri let her mind
drift off again. She'd been itching to get out and have some fun, so
what was there to whine about? She got what she wanted. No
complaints to be had. Maybe he really was a scumbag. Or maybe
was genuinely concerned she was using him, and then she just flipped out
on him for no reason.
Whatever happened, she wouldn't be seeing him
again, so it hardly seemed to matter.
*~*~*
In back of
On the Map, Warren Humber sat alone on
the pavement in the dark. He'd been standing out there for awhile,
but then dizziness struck, and it just seemed like a better idea to be
sitting. Where was that girl? He was pretty sure someone was
supposed to meet him out there…ah, who the fuck cares. He leaned his
head back, resting it on the brick wall of the club, and gazed up at the
stars. The wind chilled him, but he didn't mind—it all felt
wonderful.
A sound broke through the euphoric haze surrounding his
head. What was that, footsteps? He glanced around. The
air seemed heavy, thick…almost wet in the way it clung to him…
Glittering stars and a half moon lit the pavement behind the club,
but for some reason the figure moving toward him was cast in
darkness. He made out no face, no feature, nothing at all…
"Come with me," said the most beautiful voice he'd ever
heard. Lyrical, soft—never had he encountered such a sound in his
life. It compelled him to rise on shaky legs and move forward, ready
to go anywhere—do anything—just to reach the person that had such a
voice. The figure moved toward the field, and Warren chased after
it.
