Call Out (16 page)

Ashe smiled at me. “Now we’re to the
explaining part,” he said. “The short version is, you can sense it
when the emotions being thrown at you disagree with your own
emotions. For example, calm versus worried. It might not always be
clear that there’s an outside influence. Sometimes you just sense
it as a kind of cognitive dissonance. Are you with me so far?”

I nodded, casting back in my mind trying to
remember everything I’d felt, good and bad, when I’d been alone
with London the night before. There’d been a lot of that dissonance
Ashe talked about, but not a bit of it had anything to do with the
desire I’d felt for London.

“What happens if the emotions being thrown at
you mirror what you’re feeling?” I wondered aloud.

“It tends to intensify your feelings. You
don’t want to get into an argument with London while he’s this out
of control. The anger will ricochet between the two of you, getting
stronger and stronger until one of you does something you’ll
regret.”

“Like set fire to someone?”

“Could be. Though I don’t think that’s what
happened with the ex.”

“Okay,” I said. “Is there a point you’re
trying to get to with all this?” Ashe looked at me like he couldn’t
believe I’d just asked that question. “I’m serious. You said you’d
explain what you meant about me and London seeing my meltdown in
different lights, or something like that, right? Can you just stop
leading me around in circles and tell me what the hell you’re
talking about?”

Ashe set his cup and mine aside and took my
hands in his. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he had to
say.

“London thinks your meltdown, as you call it,
was because you had a really big bout of that cognitive dissonance,
and he’s partly right, I’m sure. But he also thinks it’s all about
the sex.”

I frowned, letting his words roll around in
my brain. It took a while for them to sink in, but when they did, I
felt tears stinging the back of my eyes. “Are you saying...does he
think....”

“He thinks you two ended up in bed together
because his feelings overrode yours.”

It was an effort to speak around the lump in
my throat. “He thinks...he thinks he....” I couldn’t do it. I
couldn’t say the word.

“He thinks he accidentally used his powers
like a date-rape drug,” Ashe finished for me.

The tears that had been threatening spilled
down my cheeks. No wonder London had been a train-wreck. Between
setting fire to his ex-girlfriend and thinking – mistakenly – that
he’d raped the girl he’d been flirting with....

“You told him he’s wrong, right?”

“I didn’t know for sure, until I talked to
you. It could have been true.” He let go of my hands and got up,
coming back a moment later with a box of tissues for me. “I’ll talk
to him when he wakes up.” He looked toward the bed as London rolled
over in his sleep. “Looks like that’ll be soon. You best make
yourself scarce. Keep everyone else away, too. He doesn’t need any
distractions if we’re going to make any headway by tonight.”

“Headway with what?”

“Shielding. The nitwit is insisting on
playing their concert tonight, so I’ve got less than half a day to
get him trained well enough to even half-ass protect himself.”

I stared, stunned. “You have got to be
kidding me.”

“Afraid not. His buddy Adrian tried to talk
him out of it, but he’s got a bug up his butt about it. Speaking of
which, Brian’s got a bug up his ass to put you girls on the first
plane anywhere but here. I tried to talk him down, but I’m not sure
how far I got. Don’t let him push you girls into leaving. You’ll be
safer here.”

I started to ask why we’d be safer in
Orlando, near Julia-the-clinically-insane, but Ashe cut me off.
“You need to go, little bit. We’ll talk more tonight.”

He didn’t give me much chance to argue,
herding me toward the door. I managed to snag my cell phone and
backpack, and then I was on the other side of the closed hotel room
door wondering what to do next.

I stood in the hallway for a few minutes
before knocking on the door to Dylan and Brian’s room, hoping I
wasn’t interrupting anything. The door flew open, and Dylan stood
in front of me, jaw set and eyes flashing.

“What?” she snapped. Her expression softened
when she realized it was me, and she said, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Everything okay?” I asked, peeking past her
to see a stormy expression on Brian’s face. Apparently I had
interrupted something, after all, but a fight was not what I had
been expecting to break up.

“Yeah,” Dylan said, stepping back and waving
me inside. “But it’ll be better if you tell me you have some money
I can borrow. Or maybe a credit card? I’d like to have actual
clothes to wear.”

“Uh...what part of broke-ass college student
have you forgotten?” I asked, setting my backpack on the floor near
the door.

She sighed and just stood there, looking
lost.

Brian stepped up behind Dylan and wrapped his
arms around her. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her,” he said
to me.

I suspected I knew what the two of them had
been fighting about. “Let me guess – Brian offered to buy you
clothes, and you flipped out on him.”

“I did not flip out,” Dylan all but
snarled.

“You’re still flipping out,” I pointed out. I
watched the two of them for a minute, Brian obviously grateful to
have Dylan in his arms even if she was mad at him, and Dylan trying
to hold on to her irritation in spite of being wrapped up in his
embrace. “I know how important your independence is to you, Dylan,
and I know where it comes from...but you’re being a bonehead.”

Dylan laughed, unconsciously resting her hand
on Brian’s forearm. “Bonehead? Really?”

“It was the first synonym for ‘dumbass’ that
popped into my head. And it definitely fits. Dylan, honey, you
don’t have to let him buy you the spring line from Prada or
anything, but let him put some decent clothes on you. The homeless
street urchin look is so 1990s Seattle.” They both laughed, and I
was pretty sure I’d won the argument for Brian, but my mouth seemed
to be stuck in overdrive. “Hey, you can always make it seem more
‘fair’ by buying smoking hot and ridiculously uncomfortable
lingerie.”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” Brian
chimed in.

“Dream on.”

“Damn.” Brian turned his head to press a kiss
against Dylan’s temple.

Dylan sighed and pulled away a little so she
could look at Brian. “Will you at least agree to let me pay you
back?”

“You’re going to insist aren’t you?” Brian
frowned and nodded. “Okay. Fine. You can pay me back.”

“Why do I not believe you?”

“Dylan,” Brian said, tilting her chin up so
he could look her dead in the eye. “I promise you, if it means that
much to you, I will let you pay me back.”

Dylan nodded and stepped forward to hug him,
not letting him see in her face how much his promise meant to her.
But I could see Brian’s face, and I knew that he knew. He held her
for a moment longer, and then fished out his wallet.

Half an hour later, Dylan and I were in a
taxi on the way to a nearby mall. No one wanted Dylan going alone,
and Brian had all the pre-show rigmarole to deal with, so I
volunteered for the shopping expedition. I would have gone along
anyway, not only to advise but also to find a few things for
myself. I was out of clean clothes, I had no idea when I’d be going
home, and I doubted the hotel had self-laundry. So I’d shell out a
few bucks for necessities and hope for the best.

At least that was my plan.

Somehow Dylan, who usually didn’t give two
tenths of a damn about dressing up, got bit by the fashion bug. I
suspected it had something to do with wanting to look nice for
Brian, even though Brian cared more about the woman inside than any
fancy window treatment. We girls are dumb like that. And somehow
Dylan’s desire to ‘look cute’ translated to my needing to dress up
as well. Safety in numbers, I guess.

Dylan insisted on paying for the outfit she
had talked me into buying, and she tried to pay for the rest of my
purchases as well. She’s not the only stubbornly independent woman
around, though. I had chosen only what I felt I could afford, and I
wasn’t about to let her charge my clothes along with hers –
particularly since I had a feeling Brian wouldn’t let her pay him
back for my clothes, as a kind of revenge for letting her win the
money argument to begin with.

We didn’t do as much damage as most girls
would do if they were given access to a boyfriend’s high-limit
credit card. We’d spent a lot of time living paycheck to paycheck,
or worse, and hadn’t broken the habit of cautious spending. Still,
we managed to rack up a fair amount of debt in the hours we spent
shopping. Malls are dangerous for just that reason.

Tired and laden with shopping bags, we
grabbed a late lunch at the food court, and then made our way back
to the hotel. Dylan got us up to the concierge floor and back into
Brian’s room with the key he’d given her. He was nowhere to be
found, and Dylan borrowed my phone to call and check on him.

I stretched out on the bed while she went
onto the balcony to talk to Brian. When she came back, she curled
up beside me and gave me back my phone.

“The boys are revamping the set list on
Ashe’s orders,” she said. “Something about emotion and
rollercoasters...there was a lot of background noise.”

I thought about it for a minute. “Ashe is
trying to give London a crash course in controlling his empathy,
but I guess he’s got the boys working on a backup plan.”

“Ah. That makes a little more sense,” Dylan
replied. “Anyway, he said Ashe will come find us closer to show
time and escort us down to the venue, if we want to go. He actually
said that – if we want to go.”

“Like, A, we’d miss the show and, B, we’d be
okay with not being able to keep an eye on them?”

“Boys are dumb.”

“Amen, sister.”

Chapter Fifteen

“So I guess Brian changed his mind about
sending us away,” I noted as Dylan and I moved about the hotel room
after a cat nap, beginning the process of getting ready for the
concert.

“Its way easier to win an argument with a guy
when he wants to lose,” Dylan replied. “He didn’t really want to
let me out of his sight, and he didn’t think he’d be doing London
any favors by getting rid of you.”

“Yeah, well, he might be wrong about
that.”

Dylan shrugged and ran a brush through her
hair, which was still wet from the shower. “I know I’d worry more
about them if we weren’t here where we can see that they’re okay.
Brian feels the same way, and I’m sure London does, too, even with
the...weirdness between you two.”

I took the brush out of Dylan’s hand and
motioned for her to follow me into the bathroom. “It’s complicated.
More complicated than I realized. But hopefully Ashe can straighten
things out,” I said as I positioned Dylan where I wanted her and
picked up the hair dryer. I switched it on, but Dylan turned around
and took it from me, turning it off again.

“Ashe is trying to fix your love life?”

“He’s trying to clear up a misunderstanding
that has to do with London’s empathy,” I explained, taking back the
hair dryer.

“What misunderstanding?”

I shook my head and started blow-dying
Dylan’s hair. I didn’t really want to talk about it, and we needed
to finish our unnecessary primping.

To Dylan’s credit, she actually waited for me
to finish drying her hair before she repeated her question. Leaning
against the doorjamb, I took a deep breath and then told her about
my conversation with Ashe.

“What an idiot,” Dylan said, with a little
shake of her head. “Not that I wouldn’t be, in his position, but
still. It’s pretty obvious how you feel about him.”

“Just because I like the guy, it doesn’t
necessarily mean I wanted to sleep with him.”

Dylan gave me a hard, flat look that spoke
volumes.

“I’m not saying I didn’t want to. I think I
just established that I did. I’m just saying, he could have been
right. It could have happened. So I understand how he must feel.” I
turned toward the mirror and started on my makeup, what there was
of it. I hadn’t packed for primping, but we’d picked up eyeliner
and lip gloss at the mall.

“I guess I can see that,” Dylan replied as
she lined her lids.

We finished getting dressed, and I looked at
myself in the mirror with a critical eye. My dark hair was down and
loose, flowing in soft waves to just past my shoulders. Even though
my makeup was minimal, it did its job well, putting a little color
in my face and making my eyes stand out. The outfit Dylan had
talked me into was cute, rather than sexy or slutty, and
comfortable. I’d vetoed the cute sandals Dylan had liked, opting to
wear my Converse with the denim skirt and halter top. I couldn’t
decide if I looked like I actually was a young 20-something or like
I was simply trying and failing to recapture my lost youth.

I heard the bathroom door open and turned to
ask Dylan’s opinion, but I kind of forgot what I was supposed to be
asking. I hadn’t seen what she’d picked out to wear tonight, lost
as it had been in the pile of clothes she’d tried on. I couldn’t
have been more shocked if she’d come out of the bathroom wearing a
flour sack. Dylan – who still hadn’t admitted that grunge was dead,
believed a flannel shirt goes with everything, and swore that she’d
wear jeans to her wedding if she ever married – was wearing a
dress. A cute one, too. With the sandals I had decided not to
buy.

“Wow, Dylan. You look like a girl.”

“Yeah. Watch out for falling icicles.”

I laughed. “I don’t think you wearing a dress
qualifies as hell freezing over. I mean, I do seem to recall it
happening at least once before.”

A lovestruck smile spread across Dylan’s
face. “Yeah, I think I remember that, too.”