Fury (9 page)

Ty nodded and shrugged. At least she didn’t seem that into this guy, whoever he was.

“That was so romantic,” Ali and Meg said, practically in unison. Ty nodded again, but didn’t add anything else to the conversation. Chase made a mental note:
Ty loves poetry.

“So, where are we going, ladies?” Chase silently thanked his mom for having filled up the gas tank.

“Benson’s Bar,” Ty said as her cousins in the backseat giggled and hooted.

“That place out on Route Twenty-Three?” Chase couldn’t believe that a shitty biker bar was where they wanted to spend their evening, but they seemed set on it. Maybe it was the only bar that would be open on Christmas.

“Benson’s is our little secret,” Ty said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. Chase felt chills up and down his spine.

When they arrived the parking lot was full of Harleys and Suzukis. Chase braced himself to be harassed by the tough bikers. He was practically begging for a fight, a preppy boy walking around with three hot girls. But weirdly, instead of going in the front door, Ty, Ali, and Meg marched around to the
back of the bar, where dim lights barely illuminated the snowy back-lot gravel. Chase looked around, but saw no one. The girls, meanwhile, sauntered up to a chalky black door, one that looked rusted shut but that sailed open at the slightest touch of Ty’s fingers. A reddish glow fell onto them.

“We’re going . . . in there?” Chase hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“You’re going to love it,” Ty said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward a pale-faced bouncer. This place had a bouncer? Chase could swear this club had never existed before. But the guy waved them by, and then Chase and Ty, with Ali and Meg behind them, were descending down velvet-covered stairs. The carpet felt mossy and spongy under Chase’s feet, like he was about to be sucked into it. The last two steps turned around a corner, revealing a dark underground club full of bumping music, flashing lights, and jaw-droppingly beautiful people.

The air smelled sweet and thick, full of a red haze; Chase had the distinct impression of having entered another world. It was hot. Chase didn’t know where to look—at that couple who seemed to be performing a circus act in the middle of the dance floor, or at the bare-chested bartender, covered in dark tattoos of snakes and ravens and feathered things. Where had these people come from? And on Christmas! They were definitely
not
from Ascension. He felt completely out of his element, in a good way. Chase wondered briefly if he had
wandered into some kind of cult situation. He didn’t even care. It was like being around Ty, but multiplied by ten. It was the coolest experience he’d ever had.

“You want a drink?” Ty leaned in close to his ear so that he could hear her above the music. Chase nodded, and she was off, instantly gobbled up by the crowd. Chase stepped forward to follow her into the red haze.
I
would follow her anywhere,
he thought as the club’s smoke enveloped him.

Knock-knock-knock.

“Chase, are you in there?”

He raised his head groggily from his pillow.

His mom’s voice came from the other side of his locked door. “Chase? Good morning, sleepyhead. Come out and open presents. I made pancakes.”

Chase looked left, right, down, and up. He was in his own bedroom. His head was pounding. He felt like he was emerging from the deepest dream of all time.

“Chase?” She knocked again.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m up. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Hurry if you don’t want a cold breakfast.”

Chase rolled over and stared at the ceiling. What had happened last night? He remembered entering the bar through the hidden door; slowly, more memories came floating back to him. He remembered looking around while Ty got his drink.
He’d seen golden snakes inscribed on the vaulted ceilings; in the bathrooms, the faucets had been snake heads. He remembered dancing so close to Ty that her sweet-rain smell seemed implanted in his nostrils; he remembered getting totally turned on as he watched Ty and her cousins twisting and undulating together on the dance floor, shimmying in their little dresses. Or was that the snakes on the wall, which had been slithering and intertwining? The images got confused in his head.

He didn’t remember driving home. He must have been wasted. Chase felt a shot of panic—how would he find Ty again? He swung his feet to the floor and walked to his dresser, hoping to find a scrap of paper with a phone number on it.

Then he saw himself the mirror: a ten-digit number was scrawled in red lipstick on his face. He felt heat creeping up his neck. He was thrilled he had Ty’s number, but really, did she have to make him look like such a freak?

And then another memory went tumbling through his mind. How he had tried to kiss her in the smoky light. How Ty had touched his face and smiled, sending a chill down his spine as she whispered, “You’ll just have to wait. I have plans for you, you know.”

Em wandered through the aisles at Victoria’s Secret, touching the lacy underwear and satin bras that hung around her in lilac, turquoise, and hot pink.

It was two days after Christmas, and her car was in the shop with a broken fender, so JD had driven her to the old mall. She was supposed to meet him for a movie in about an hour, but for now they had parted ways to redeem gift cards and shop on their own. She’d been sort of avoiding her other friends, like Fiona and Lauren. It was just too complicated after kissing Zach, and she didn’t know how to act normal anymore.

She stopped and stared at a deep purple balconette bra covered in a fine layer of shimmery lace, with a matching thong. She’d never really owned anything like this—cheap cotton stuff from Target had done the job the few times that it had
mattered. When she dated Alex Parson freshman year, he’d taken off her shirt, and the turquoise T-shirt bra she’d been wearing underneath hadn’t really seemed to faze him one way or the other. Although last year, in a relatively steamy hookup session with Steve Sawyer, she’d stopped him from taking off her pants, less out of chastity than because she was embarrassed by her plain white bikini briefs.

And it’s not like she was planning to do anything more with Zach. . . . It was just that she was ready to finally own some real lingerie.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” a female voice said.

Em whirled around to face a saleswoman who was looking at her intently—as though she knew Em’s secret.

“Um, I don’t know,” Em said, knitting her brows nervously.

“It just looks a bit big for you, dearie,” the woman said, pointing to the purple bra. “Let’s get you measured.”

Em let out a nervous laugh. Apparently she was even more paranoid than she’d thought. That realization, though, didn’t stop her from purchasing the purple bra, matching underwear, and a pair of low-rise black lace boy shorts, then stuffing the whole Victoria’s Secret bag into a deeper bag that held a J.Crew sweater and jeans.

JD was waiting patiently with two tickets for the latest apocalyptic natural-disaster film when she came trotting up a few
minutes late. His bright yellow and black buffalo-plaid shirt made him look like a lumberjack bumblebee from afar.

“You didn’t get anything else?” he asked, surveying her bags.

“Nope,” Em said, happy that her hair was covering her ears. “Just window-shopped.”

They walked up to the concession stand, where Em was not surprised to see Drea Feiffer looking as morose as usual. The only thing different about her getup today was that it was half covered by the dark-red employee vest she obviously hated. It didn’t complement her skinny jeans, which she’d dyed an outrageous shade of purple, or high-top Converse, which were “laced” with enormous safety pins. Not one to bow to the system, however, Drea had adorned her vest with an enormous brooch that she apparently slept in—she was never seen without the silver pin, which was shaped like a giant snake wrapped around an open eye. It wasn’t very flattering. Still, Em gave her a small smile. She felt bad for Drea. Rumor was that Drea had been visiting Sasha in the hospital every day. Drea had other friends besides Sasha—other goth types who hung out in the school parking lot—but Sasha had been her closest friend, as far as anyone knew. It must be terrible to see your best friend like that. She couldn’t imagine if Gabby . . .

The guilt came, a pulsing shock. She couldn’t even
think
about Gabby.

“Hey, Drea,” JD said, as friendly with Drea as he was with anyone else. “How was your Christmas?”

Drea’s eyes fluttered to Em and back to JD. “Hey. It was pretty rough. I didn’t . . .” Drea’s voice went up, like she was about to say something important. Em tried not to stare at the circles under her eyes. Drea’s best friend had just tried to kill herself, and the poor girl had to sell Junior Mints all day. Em felt a momentary impulse to reach around the counter and hug her. But she’d probably think Em was crazy. Drea cleared her throat, and her dry tone came back. “Didn’t have to wear this damn vest for a few days, at least.”

“It’s not that bad. It brings out the red in that snake eye there,” he said, grinning, trying to lighten the mood. “Have you seen this movie?” He fanned the tickets out on the counter.

“Yeah. It’s okay. Although, if I see one more disaster movie where the girl still looks hot at the end, I’m going to boycott modern cinema.”

“One of those?” JD motioned to Em and said, “She hates that too.”

“Yeah? Well, I guess we’ve got one thing in common, then.” Drea reached for the popcorn bags. “What’ll it be? Medium popcorn, Sno-Caps, Twizzlers, and two Sprites?”

“You got it,” JD said.

As they walked away from Drea, he said in a low voice, “I just feel so bad for her, ya know? She and Sasha were really close.”

Waiting for the movie to start, JD bit off both ends of a Twizzler and demonstrated—as he did every single time they saw a movie together—that Twizzlers could be used as straws. They bickered over whether or not to simply pour the Sno-Caps in with the popcorn (Em voted yes, JD voted no, Em won). Em leaned back and breathed in the stale movie-theater smell of old cushions, sticky soda, and buttered popcorn; this was the most relaxed she’d felt in almost a week. Sometimes she forgot how much she loved spending time with JD, who didn’t expect anything from her, and who was totally himself. Now he was trying to use the Twizzler as some kind of kazoo. Sure, he could be kind of dorky, but he always made her laugh.

After the movie—which, as Drea had warned, featured totally unflustered and beautiful disaster victims—they walked to JD’s car. Em looked toward the coffee shop that JD always referred to as the Crappuccino, a popular hangout, and was surprised to see Zach sauntering out the door. A bolt of electricity rushed through her. She was about to yell his name but stopped herself when she saw him hold the door open for some girl she’d never seen before—an older, pretty girl wearing jeans, heels, and an expensive-looking sweater. They were laughing together as they walked in the opposite direction.

“Were you about to say something?” JD asked.

“No, I . . .” Em trailed off, and JD followed her eyes.

“That guy is such a dirtbag. He’s still with Gabby, right?”

“Of course he’s still with Gabby.” Em was surprised at how forceful she sounded. “That girl could be anyone—friend, cousin,
dentist
. Why do you have to assume it’s something shady?”

JD was obviously taken aback by the strength of Em’s reaction. He raised both hands defensively. “I don’t. I was just guessing, based on how they were walking.”

“Well, you have no idea, so maybe you shouldn’t go around
hypothesizing
,” she said.

“God, Winters. Sorry. Didn’t mean to piss you off. Miss Touchy.”

“Miss Touchy?”

“Okay.” JD grinned. “That sounded less creepy in my head.”

Em laughed, but the image of the pretty girl with Zach stuck in her mind as she and JD drove home in silence.

In her room later that evening, Em was organizing her photos and doing her best
not
to think about that girl at the Crappuccino when her phone buzzed, and she caught her breath—maybe it was Zach.

Nope. It was a text from Gabby.

Hey! Txts are expensive but I wanted to say hi and that I miss you! This bungalow is pimped out and I wish u were here to go in the Jacuzzi w/me!

Em felt a brief pang of guilt—but it turned quickly into annoyance. Her devoted best friend was texting her from across the ocean and Zach couldn’t get in touch from across town? Impulsively, she dialed Zach’s number.

Miracle of miracles, he picked up.

“Hey there,” he said in a sexy low voice.

She vowed not to lose her resolve. With her voice shaking the tiniest bit, her thoughts spilled out: “Hi. Listen, I have to say some things. Ask some things. Like, what if this whole thing blows up in our faces? What are we
doing
?” She took a breath and listened, but Zach was silent. She barreled on. “What if Gabby finds out? And seriously, Zach, I don’t mean to sound weird, but I saw you today outside the Crappu . . . the Cappuchinery—who the hell was that girl?”

For a second, Em thought Zach had hung up. But then he laughed.

“Someone’s a little jealous, huh?” Em didn’t respond. “Em, don’t worry,” Zach said, suddenly serious. “That was just a family friend. Her name’s Amanda and her mom and my mom are friends. They’re visiting, so I offered to take her out for coffee.”

“Oh,” Em said dumbly.

“She actually does charity organizing for her sorority, and she was giving me some advice about the Feast. It was really helpful. I’m a little in over my head, you know?” Every word that came out of Zach’s mouth made Em feel like more of an
idiot. Zach was stressed about the Football Feast—organizing it was a huge responsibility—and here she was, whining about another girl without even knowing the full story. Or really having the right to whine in the first place.

“And about Gabby . . . it’s complicated, I know. But we’ll figure it out. Why don’t I come pick you up,” he offered. “We can talk about all this in person. My parents aren’t home. We can chill in front of the fire. . . .” He trailed off in a singsong voice.