A shiver runs through me. Every muscle in my body freezes because I think I know the answer to my next question. “Why are they our only hope?”
“That car that just drove off like a bat out of hell? It was Wes.”
Cooper
The next day drizzles by as uneventful as the weather. Flynn insists he’s getting closer to the Tobias family as he continues his underground “Spectator” sport of personally tracking them down.
“So what exactly are you doing to gain their trust?” I ask as we trek through the murky backwoods just north of campus.
“I’m offering their lives back in exchange for information.” He grunts as he trips over a root as thick as my leg.
“Okay, so you’ve got their attention.” I scan the forest for movement. “What do you think is going to happen when it comes time to cough up a resurrection or two? Pearl is dead in case you forgot. She rotted right back to the core in less than ten minutes of her second untimely demise. Speaking of which, I need to get her out of the morgue.”
“What the hell for?” The whites of his eyes expand as if I suggested we eat her for dinner.
“There’s no one to claim the body, genius.”
“And stealing a corpse is going to help the situation, how?”
A faint buzzing emits to our left—probably birds—a hornet’s nest. Who the hell knows.
Flynn nods. “Every time I hear a noise out here, it spooks me, too.”
The fog swirls around our feet. It fills itself between the tree trunks and branches, washing out the landscape in an oily haze.
A girl’s voice pitches through the dull hum every now and again, then a distinctly male voice drones on with a sense of urgency. It’s not Laken. I’d know her a mile away.
“I know who that is,” Flynn whispers as we make our way as stealth as possible in their direction.
“Which one?”
“The female.”
Of course, it’s the female. Flynn’s got sonar for every chick in the western hemisphere.
A rustle of leaves—the sound of footsteps heading in this direction magnifies with the steady crush of pine needles over the forest floor.
“Remember what I told you.” The male says it stern, yet with the false air of tenderness. “This is a simple assignment. If you keep up the good work, you might just get what you’re after.”
“And if I don’t?” Her voice quivers. She sounds frightened, haunted.
“You’re a smart girl,” he says it low, just this side of a growl. “You know what happens if you don’t.”
The footsteps increase in sound and volume right behind the overgrown hedge in front of us.
Shit.
A dark shadow emerges, as Flynn and I exchange glances.
“What have we got here?” Mr. Edinger pulls his lips in a smug line. He’s cloaked in a long wool coat that hangs like a dress, and his feet stand at ease. “Are you two looking for something? These woods are off limits to students as I was just explaining to Ms. Tobias.”
Hattie appears from behind him, looking embarrassed, not at all like her morbidly-dry self. Her posture straightens as if leaping into character. She clears her throat.
“Flynn, why don’t you escort Ms. Tobias back to her dormitory,” he says, squeezing himself into a pair of black leather gloves. “You’re lucky I happened to see you entering these woods, young lady. It’s a maze out here. One could easily get themselves killed.” He glances up at me when he says that last part.
Flynn and Hattie make a beeline out of here as if the forest were about to combust—not that it hasn’t happened before.
I turn to follow them out.
“Mr. Flanders.” Edinger takes a step forward with that perennial sarcastic smile hedging on his lips. “What was it that you and Mr. Masterson were looking for?”
Daylight defuses behind him and gives the illusion the evergreens are about to spear him with their daggers. Edinger stands against the woods like a shadow as tall and wide as a door.
“Who said we were looking for anything? Just taking a late afternoon hike. Must have gone off the trail. Didn’t even notice the trees sprouting up around us.” I say it slow and measured as I gauge him.
“Temperatures will be dipping into the thirties. Make sure you dress warm.” He expands his lips even further until it looks as if he’s strained out a smile.
I doubt he kept me behind to talk about the weather.
I turn to head back.
“Keep out of the woods, Mr. Flanders,” he calls after me. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
There it is, the not so veiled threat I felt coming on like a cold. I glance back. He hasn’t moved an inch. His body looks as if he’s dissolving into the haze. Edinger steps backward until the fog envelops him completely, nothing but his wicked grin visible for me to see—and then that too vanishes like smoke.
I speed over to where he was standing with my heart trying to jam its way out of my throat.
He’s gone.
“So why is it that big of a deal that Edinger popped out of existence?” Laken bites down on her lip, and it springs back, luscious and full, ripe as a cherry.
The scent of fried tortilla chips fills the air and suddenly a smell I thought I had grown immune to has the power to intoxicate me. Maria’s Mexican Restaurant looks different with Laken standing in it—more regal, less of the roach trap it really is.
I glance over her shoulder at Grayson, who’s growing increasingly impatient sitting by herself at the table.
I drove both Grayson and Laken down to Maria’s for the so-called double date I let Wes rope me into. Wes had a last minute emergency and said he’d meet up with us.
Laken sighs. “We knew he was Fem, remember? That whole episode with him hacking off his head and chasing me?”
“He played it off. He used your supposed ‘brain injury’ to make it look like you were going insane. But this is different. I don’t have a brain injury, Laken—real or imagined.” I rock on my feet a moment trying to figure it all out. “I don’t know. I felt like it was some tip-off of things to come.”
“He must know you work for Wes—that you dispose of Spectators. I don’t know why it’s a secret to begin with.”
“Fems only come out if they have to.” I shake my head. “He wanted me to know. There’s a reason—there always is.”
Laken takes a breath before bolting back to the table without a word.
I take it as a cue that Wes has arrived, so I head into the kitchen a moment. Just because I’m off doesn’t mean they wouldn’t appreciate the help. I snap up some chips and salsa for us, and my phone buzzes in my jeans.
It’s a text from Flynn.
H me
H me? Knew it. All the crap he’s pumped into his system has finally dissolved his last living brain cell. If his GPA continues to plummet, he’ll be off the team by midterms.
I grab the food and head back to the table.
Wes sits tall and proud next to Laken with his jet-black wool coat that makes his shoulders look wide as a refrigerator. His dark hair gleams in this low light like its primed for some freaking shampoo commercial. Wes is a dick just like Edinger. Only, unlike Edinger, I doubt Wesley is going to disappear voluntarily. Nope I’m not that lucky. This is one asshole that’s here to stay.
“Here we go,” I say, landing the food on the table. Grayson sits square in the middle, so I have to cozy up beside her, so I won’t fall off. Laken makes a face at my close encounter with her nemesis. “So where were you at?” I knuckle bump Wes from across the table.
“Water polo. Coach made us stay late. A couple of the guys were goofing off, and everyone had to pay.”
“I know how that goes.” I grab a chip and dig in while the three of them examine the menus.
“What do you recommend, Coop?” Grayson dips the low cut V of her blouse onto the table, and her boobs expand to the sides as if they just found a resting place. I can’t help but think it looks as if she just
offered herself up as a meal.
“Number sixteen is always good. You get three different things and a side of rice and beans.”
“You really know your way around this place.” Wes cuts me a sarcastic smile. “One day you might even work your way up to head chef.” He pushes out a closed-mouth laugh.
I nod, trying to absorb the fact Wes just openly mocked the shit out of me. One day Wes is going to be running a major corporation, and I’ll probably be selling a number sixteen to Grayson and her fiancé slash manager. I’d like to think I’ll be the one with Laken, though.
“Wes,” Laken says it controlled yet thoroughly pissed. “Coop won’t always be working here. He’ll have to divide his time with all of the other restaurants he’ll own.” She cuts him a look that says cross this line, and I’ll slit your throat.
I try not to glance up at Laken, but our eyes snap toward one another like a magnet, and I smile. I don’t give a shit what Wes thinks about that.
I love you, I want to tell her, but keep my mouth shut for fear of having my teeth rearranged. Besides, we need Wes. I glance at him as he silently fumes at Laken’s rebuttal to his elitist sense of non-humor. Jackass. I like the idea of Laken using him. I very much plan on rubbing it in his face one day. Hopefully soon—like tomorrow.
“I think restaurants sound exciting.” Grayson shrugs like she really doesn’t. “But I think you should own clothing stores—designer labels only of course. You know, Louboutin, Vera Wang, La Perla.”
Wesley gives a dull grin. “So you’re thinking wedding bells, huh?” he teases. “The shoes, the gown, the lingerie. You’ve got all the bases covered.”
“We should have a double wedding.” Grayson drips with dark humor as she taunts Laken. “You know,” she glances up at Wes. “You and Kresley, me and Coop. It’ll be like the old days.”
Wes frowns, but doesn’t say a word.
“Oh!” Grayson claps her pink nails over her mouth. “Was I not supposed to say anything? I mean Kres was telling me all about how the two of you reconnected. It was after homecoming, right? You were running around, looking for Laken and couldn’t find her—then Kres stepped in.”
“Enough.” Wes grits it through his teeth.
Laken and I exchange a quick glance. You can see the hurt on her face, plain as day.
“What?” Grayson feigns surprise. “I could have sworn Kres said you found her in your bed—or was it that Kres ended up in your bed?” She fills her mouth with a chip and bites down over it as if it were Wesley’s balls.
“Nobody ended up in my bed.” Wes gruffs it out as if the topic isn’t up for debate. “Drop it.”
We put in our orders and hobble through light conversation, avoiding the minefield that is Kresley and homecoming. Laken has lost her shine. Her easy smiles traded in for long eyes, the shadow of a frown hovers around her mouth.
Grayson excuses herself to use the restroom, and, to my surprise, Laken follows.
“You hear anything else about that girl? Pearl?” Wes crumples his napkin with marked aggression.
“Nothing.” I take a swig of my soda. “They ever find her parents?”
Wes cuts me a dirty look as if it has the power to set my balls on fire. “They’re not finding her parents, Coop,” he hisses, leaning in. “She morphed into a fucking Spectator in the event your blond ass hadn’t noticed.”
The muscles in my jaw distend because Paxton or Parker or whoever the hell he is tonight, is really starting to piss me off.
“Find a way to dump that body,” he snaps. “The last thing we need is the coroner, turning this over to the government.”
“Just what I was thinking. I’m on it.”
His dimples go off without a smile. “You and I seem to be thinking about the same things lately—the same people.”
“Are we back at this again?” I say, plucking the straw from my cup and pouring the rest of my drink straight down my throat. “I’m with Grayson,” I say, clamping the red tumbler over the table. “Things are great. Sorry if she rocked the boat with you and Laken, tonight. I’ll talk to her—make sure it doesn’t happen again. If you want to bang both Kres and Laken”—I hold out my hands—“that’s your business, dude.”
Wes lunges across the table and pulls me in by the shirt with a snarl locked on his face. “You fucking pussy,” he huffs it out low as if trying to avoid a scene. “I wasn’t with Laken last night. You were.” He knocks me back as he lets go. “I drove to your house, or didn’t your daddy tell you?”
“My dad?”
“That’s right.” Gone is the sarcastic ass he’s been all night. Wes is pissed, plain as day, not one undercurrent of defeat—never a good combination in a power-hungry brat who’s used to getting every damn thing he wants.
“I couldn’t find Laken,” he continues. “She wasn’t answering her phone, and neither were you.”
Shit. I saw his stupid missed call this morning and blew it off.
“I drove to your house,” he insists as if he wants me to admit to something. “Your dad was out front smoking a cigarette.”
My gut bursts in a vat of hot bile. I knew it was his truck.
“I asked where you were, and he said you had a girl upstairs.” His brows rise, amused at the concept. “I drove back to campus, and the only girl missing was Laken.” His chest expands, and I can feel a fight coming on. “Kres helped me track down Grayson, who, by the way, was off entertaining herself with a dick not attached to your body—just like old times, huh?”
Wes leans back and folds his arms. I know what he’s waiting for—the big denial.
“So tell me, Coop.” Wes doesn’t take his eyes off mine, neither one of us blinks. “Who was this mystery girl you were shacking up with under daddy’s supervision? Are you going to try to tell me it was Pearl? You expect me to believe you’ve got dead Spectators giving you blowjobs now? Who was it?”
“It was Laken.”
Wesley
A trail of smoke fills the air as an order of fajitas hisses its way past us.
I just sit and stare at Cooper almost-dead Flanders as he glares over at me an inordinate amount of time.
It was Laken.
I just asked the fucker who the girl was in his bed, and he copped to it being my girlfriend without missing a beat. Either something’s not right, or Flanders has a death wish I’ll be more than happy to make come true.
I shake my head. “Rattle out your excuses because we both know damn well you’ve got ‘em.”
Grayson and Laken come back just in the nick of time.
Great. I bet Coop will be sweating out one excuse after the next until we get a chance to continue our conversation. I’m sure he’ll think he’s bulletproof. Doesn’t matter. I think it’s time I arrange a happy accident for Flanders—send a couple girls his way he won’t be able to resist, then have them bite his balls off. Serves him right for thinking about Laken, and God forbid touching her. The thought makes me insane.
“Everything okay?” Laken picks up on the tension and scoots in next to me—probably to read my mind.
The food arrives and I give a depleted sigh as we start in on our meals.
I lied. I didn’t go to Coop’s looking for Laken. I went to Coop’s looking to accuse him of letting Laken suck off his neck. Little did I know this was a nightly occurrence. Hattie Tobias said Laken hasn’t slept in her bed in weeks. What the fuck?
After I left Coop’s, I panicked and tried to call her—to find her, and that’s when Kres reared her wicked head. She offered to comfort me in ways that were far from emotional, but I turned her down cold. Grayson was just covering her own corrupt tracks when she tried to rat me out for something I didn’t do. Not that I didn’t rat her out in the end, but that’s what a night like tonight is for, spilling greasy secrets, watching each other slip in the mess.
Coop pays the bill before I can whip out my wallet, and we rise from the booth, thankful this nightmare is over.
“Good stuff.” Coop stretches
like a bear. “I’ll take you home, Grayson.” He ushers her out with his hand over her shoulder and gives Laken a high-five as they pass one another.
Her face smooths out in horror as they let off.
He told her.
She knows.
It’s cold as hell, but Laken agrees to drive to Charity with me. We exchanged small talk on the way over, mostly about how the evening went, and I’m shocked she didn’t try to force-feed me a mountain of bullshit.
The stars are cleverly hidden beneath a wash of pink fog. The lake shines like a silver platter under the harsh glare of the moon. I lay a blanket over the ground, and we sit on the shore with my jacket wrapped around the two of us. I hold her hand off and on, terrified I won’t be able to control my thoughts, that I’ll spill everything I know about her and Coop, and she won’t have a chance to tell me a single lie. Deep down inside, I wish Laken would lie to me. I want to soak in all the dishonesty she’s willing to sling my way just to keep this relationship going. The desperate hours have arrived. Our relationship was on life support all along, and I was the last to know.
“I want you to tell me something,” I say, pulling her in by the waist.
We’re going to have to go there. If she and Cooper are as close as I’m afraid they are, then we’re going to have to dig up the casket of our love and look inside no matter how hideous the results might be. I’m sure he’ll call her in a few hours, and they’ll have a teleconference over what an idiot I am. Or worse, they’ll gloss over it in bed before they detonate over one another.
“Tell you what?” She rocks into me.
The pale wash of moonlight strips all the color from her face, from her hair. It leaves those pale eyes of hers glowing like that of a cat, and I want to lie her back in the sand and show her exactly how much I love her right here without another word soiling what I thought was so pure.