Games of Fire (38 page)

“I told you already that I don’t see Joe in that light. I never will! And if I had wanted to be with him, I would have already said rather than stand here listening to you ramble on like I’m an idiot who doesn’t know her own mind. Well, let me tell you something, mister. I’ve already decided who I want to go to the party with. If you’ve changed your mind and you’re trying to find a gentle way to tell me, honesty would be nice. You don’t have to—”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” he interrupted. “Oh never mind! Just ignore everything I just said.”

“Good!” She flipped a hair off her shoulder. “I will. In fact, I’m going to pretend like you haven’t been grumpy and moody since lunch.”

He frowned. “I haven’t.”

“Have!”

He flicked her nose gently. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, yes I do. Now, I have homework and you have a mystery visitor.”

He chuckled, touching her cheek lovingly. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Well, you could kiss me now and then call me later,” she suggested helpfully.

He was grinning from ear to ear when he bent his head and kissed her soft
ly on the lips. His arms found their way around her, drawing her into his chest, fitting her against him the way a puzzle piece slipped seamlessly into its proper place. The perfect alignment of their bodies pulled heat through her, filling every inch of her until letting go quickly became an impossibility. Her fingers slipped through the silky strands at the back of his head and she shivered. His moan vibrated against her mouth.

With a last nip of his teeth against her bottom lip, he drew back, breaking the dreamy mist swirling around her. “Homework. Mystery visitor,” he said as if it was supposed to mean something to her at that moment.

“What?” she said.

He chuckled at her annoyed expression, kissing the end of her nose. “You have homework and I have a mystery visitor. I’ll call you later.”

But later was such a long time away. She didn’t like having to wait, but saw no other choice. She relinquished her grip on him and stepped back.

“Later,” she muttered, starting towards her house.

He didn’t call her back, not even when she reached her front door and glanced back. He gave her a slight wave before starting home.

Her mom was keeping the sofa warm. She sat with her novel in hand, draped in a checkered afghan, with a precisely placed bowl of popcorn propped in her lap. She waved absently when Sophie walked in.

“I’m going to do my homework,” Sophie said, just to be annoying, because she knew how her mother hated to be interrupted in the middle of an important scene.

As expected, a deep groove appeared between her mother’s eyebrows. “
All right!”

“In my room,” Sophie added, snatching up her backpack and meandering on slowly towards the stairs. “I have an English paper to write and something about Winston Churchill
for History.”

“Mmhmm,” her mother said with just a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Churchill paper. Nice.”

“I got a tattoo today.” Sophie reached the bottom of the stairway. “It’s a skull and crossbones with a naked man doing the hula.”

“Naked,” her mother mumbled appreciatively.

Sophie snickered, hurrying upstairs. She dumped her bag on her bed and went to work emptying the contents.

It was nearly an hour before something in the air shifted
… literally. The coiling stench of burned pasta poured through the cracks in the door. Sophie had just finished the last of her Geometry homework when it slammed into her nostrils like a punch. She tossed her books down and hurried downstairs, covering her mouth and nose against the foul odor.

“Mom?” she called, sprinting into the kitchen.

Her mother stood at the stove, scowling down at the charred casserole dish expelling columns of thick smoke. The entire ceiling was a solid wall of black that was steadily pouring through the rest of the house like a flood cascading over a dam. Sophie lunged towards the backdoor and threw it open, giving the smoke a new direction, out of the house. She did the same with the window over the sink, simultaneously grabbing a rag to sweep it out before the … too late. The alarm went off with such ferocity, Sophie felt her eyes cross. Her brain rattled violently and she nearly bolted out of the house to escape it.

She ran for the device mounted on the ceiling and smacked the air around it with the towel, urging the smoke away so it would
return to its dormant state. After what felt like hours, it squeaked off, but its little demon children continued to rage havoc between Sophie’s ears, buzzing and shrilling for all they were worth.

“Mom!” she snapped, turning to the other figure in the room.

Her mother continued to glower down at the ruined dish with absolute exasperation, like it had deliberately gone out of its way to burn, just to infuriate her.

She sighed when Sophie snapped at her. “It couldn’t wait one more chapter.” With an accepting huff, she hoisted the dish and dumped the lot into the sink and dosed it with cold water. “Well, there goes supper.”

“What happened?” Sophie hurried over to see chunks of singed chicken floating on the surface of the dish.

“I only had the one chapter left!” her mother muttered. “I thought I had enough time.” She forked her fingers back through her hair and stole a glance towards the freezer. “Too late to defrost another casserole.” She turned to Sophie, a sheepish half smile on her face. “How does pizza sound for tonight?”

Warm, cheesy, gooey pizza or defrosted chicken and pasta casserole?

“I’ll pick it up!”

Her mother didn’t hesitate tossing Sophie the car keys and a wad of bills. Sophie grabbed her jacket and hurried from the house. In the driveway, with one hand on the driver’s side handle, she glanced at the house next door and blinked with surprise at the second car parked there. A sleek, red Camaro glinted in the dimming light. It looked out of place behind the minivan. Not just in looks, but in presence.

Automatically, Sophie’s gaze darted to the front door. A soft, yellow glow originated from the kitchen window and a faint, blue flicker moved behind the
curtains upstairs, Spencer’s room, but otherwise, the house sat in perfect darkness. Even the porch lights were off. Sophie wondered if Spencer was in his room, watching a movie while his mom and Jamie talked down in the kitchen. Was Aimee there, too? She wondered who the minivan belonged to. But those were things she could ask Spencer in the morning.

She climbed into her mother’s silver Grand Am and backed out of the driveway, already tasting the cheesy goodness awaiting her. The streets were deserted as she wove through them to the closest pizza joint.

It was a bar and grill that catered to families and teens during the day and hardcore partiers during the night. It was the only place in town that never closed. The kitchen was always open and people were always inside. Sophie was a huge fan of the hot wings and pizza. The way they made the crust … it was doughy heaven.

The parking lot was packed. Gravel crunched beneath her wheels as she turned into the only available spot. She cut the engine, pock
eted the key and headed inside.

Country music blared from the speakers, just shy of completely drowning the low buzz of conversation from the crowd inside. Oil lamps hung on wooden posts, illuminating round tables while still casting shadows everywhere else. People danced
on a scrap of bare hardwood, their laughter carrying straight to the bar at the front of the place. The owner, a short, plump man with a fat mustache and no hair to speak of on his gleaming head, looked up from the rag he was moving methodically over the scarred counter and stared at her a moment, silently sizing her up. Deeming her nonthreatening and even less of a danger, he straightened.

“Can I get you something, kid?”

Sophie ignored the
kid
comment and glanced at the giant board over his head, even though she knew exactly what she wanted. She ordered three extra-large pizzas with everything. She added three dozen hot wings and a six pack of Coke to the bill and fished out her cash. The man took the crumpled bills and stuffed them into the register. He told her to take a seat and wait fifteen minutes while the kitchen got her order together.

There wasn’t a place to sit. She stayed by the register, leaning back into the counter and looking over the room at the dancers. She slipped her hands into her pockets just as her phone buzzed. The vibration tickled her hand. She dug it out and peeked at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Spencer’s soft voice filled her ear.

“Hey!” she said, feeling a smile split her face.

“Where are you? The rodeo?”

Sophie laughed, turning to the little man behind her. She caught his eye. She pointed to her phone and then the door, mouthing
be right back
to him as she hurried out of the restaurant.

“Sorry!” she said as quiet settled around her. “Just picking up supper. What are you doing?”

There was a screech of tires and then an explosion. It abruptly cut off to a woman screaming. Cut off again to fake, sitcom laughter. She guessed he was flipping through channels.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just hanging out in my room.” He hesitated, before adding, “Jamie came over.”

Sophie looked down, not sure why. “I saw. Everything okay?”

Wood groaned, fabric rustled as he shifted on the bed. “Yeah. He’s downstairs with
Mom.”

She hesitated. “Alone?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her question. “Aimee’s not here. Mom doesn’t want her in the house so he left her somewhere.”

“Hopefully suspended over a boiling volcano,” she muttered and heard him chuckle.

“Are there volcanos in British Columbia?”

She shrugged. “A pit of alligators then.”

He laughed again. “Where are you?”

She knew where she was, but still glanced up at the giant plank hanging over the door with the grill name soldered into the wood. “The Out of The Way Pit,” she read.

“Sounds interesting.”

“Mm,” she said. “Best BBQ in town.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” She could hear the smile in his voice and wished she could see it.

She leaned into the wall next to the door. “So, did you find out who your mystery visitor was?”

“No visitor.” She heard him grunt and pictured him reclining on his bed, possibly topless, bathed in nothing but the pale blue light of the TV … she quickly shook that thought away. “It’s a loaner. The insurance company is letting mom borrow it until they can decide if her car can be fixed.”

Against her ear, her phone chirped, the signal for a text message.

“Spencer, one second.” She pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen.

The message was from Jessie.
“Where r u?”

Frowning in confusion, Sophie quickly punched in her response and went back to her call with Spencer. “Sorry. Jessie texted me.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, she just wanted to know where I was.”

“Oh okay.” He paused a second. “So what are you doing tonight?”

Sophie shrugged, biting her bottom lip. “Nothing as far as I know.”

“Want to come over?”

The door opened with a loud squeak. Music and laughter poured through the air, disrupting her response.

The owner poked his head out, scowling. “Your food is ready!” he barked.

Sophie checked her watch. Had it been fifteen minutes already? “Oh okay! I’ll be right there. Thanks!” She turned back to the phone. “My order is ready, but yeah, I’ll come by later.”

They said goodbye and hung up.

The owner stood behind the counter, waiting with a very displeased frown on his face. He nudged her order towards her. She gave him what she hoped was an apologetic smile as she scooped her things up and started towards the door.

“You!”

Sophie teetered as the shadow leapt in front of her, a slender wall of supermodel gorgeousness that bordered on the ridiculous. Aimee, in all her rage and willowy gracefulness, glowered at Sophie while fluidly pushing back a patch of corn silk curls off her shoulder.

“I remember you.”

It took a little too much effort not to wince, not just because Aimee remembered her, but because out of every hole in the wall in River Port, Jamie had left Aimee in the one place Sophie would be without ever knowing it.

“Annie, right?” Sophie tried to step around the blonde.

Aimee moved with her, blocking her. “Aimee!”

“Right!” She tried again, but it was hard to be agile or quick when her view was blocked by a paper bag. “Can I get by, please?”

To her surprise, Aimee moved. She left a wide berth from Sophie to the door. Sophie wondered if she should be wary, but the items in her arms were heavy and the steam rising from them was making her sweaty. She moved through the doors, into the cool air. Her sneakers crunched on the gravel as she hurried to her car. She was oblivious of her shadow until the second set of footsteps echoed from behind her.