Tear You Apart (4 page)

Ted straightened, and glanced across the room at his wife, who was chatting with a woman who’d married a Frog Prince. “Not that Helen isn’t lovely. She’s a beauty, aging much better than most. But nothing compares to the flower that hasn’t been plucked.”

Viv’s dad laughed politely, the two men exchanged a few more words, and Ted went on his way.

“Ugh,” Viv’s dad said when he was gone. “Does he not know we’re related? What a way to talk in front of me.”

“He can go pluck himself,” Viv said.

“Viv. Watch your mouth.”

She sighed, and her dad gave her a shove and told her to go be social.

She didn’t want to be cornered by another sketchy elder statesman, so she beelined for the first group of young people she saw. She didn’t realize until she was among them that the foursome was composed of happy couples.

They were all about five years older than she was. There was a Cinderella/Prince Charming pairing she knew a little about. They were sort of infamous for their nebulous happily ever after. They’d ended up living together, and it seemed like they were involved, but no one was really sure what to make of them. And there was a prince and princess (easy to identify because the princess was wearing a tiara), but Viv didn’t know who they were.

The princess had long, copper-colored hair in tight, fine
curls. The prince was pale and freckled with a pretty, sculpted face. They had their arms around each other and kept tilting their heads to kiss. Viv was both disgusted and envious. They were just so … happy.

“Do you remember,” the princess said to her prince, “when you needed a bee to land on my lips to figure out who I was?”

“Your sisters had eaten candy, and you’d had a bit of honey, and that was how the bee knew it was you. Now I know your lips so well I wouldn’t need any help finding you. And you always taste like honey to me.”

The couple took a moment to gaze into each other’s eyes, and then the princess turned to explain. “It was a test to break an enchantment. Connor had to identify the youngest princess out of three—that was me. A bee helped him.”

“We know the fairy tale,” Max said, swigging his beer. Max was the nebulously happy Prince Charming. He was your standard tall, dark, and handsome type, with the added eccentricity of being an exhibitionist—although he’d settled down since he’d gotten together with Dusty (aka Cinderella). The drunken-frat-boy streaking was before Viv’s time.

“A bee landed on your face?” Dusty asked in horror. She was barefoot. Supposedly she had a thing against shoes.

“I was in an enchanted sleep at the time,” the princess said, “so I didn’t even notice. Besides, that bee brought us together.”

“And we lived happily ever after,” the prince said, hugging his princess close. They looked like a Valentine’s Day card. All they needed was a big heart behind them.

Viv kept turning toward the door, hoping to see Regina
make her entrance—alone. Her worries about what her stepmother was doing, and what kind of seeds she might be planting, made a hot-cold feeling run through her limbs.

The feeling got worse when she saw Henley walk in with Regina. Everyone knew Henley was a Huntsman, and there he was with the wicked stepmother who wanted her dead. She tried to stay focused on Regina and Henley so she wouldn’t see the scandalized faces that were no doubt turned toward her, waiting to catch her reaction.

Viv’s mother had wanted her to have a dramatic life—that was why she’d wished for the curse. But Viv didn’t want it—she’d never wanted it. Sure, she’d liked being a princess, liked having that elite status and being special. But the older she got, as the trap started to close, she just felt scared. None of it was in her control.

“Do you want me to get you a drink?” Dusty asked her. “You look nervous.”

“
Don’t
get anyone anything,” Max said. “No serving.” He turned to Viv. “It’s not personal. We’re trying to break her of the habit. I’ll get you a drink, if you want.”

“No, I’m fine,” Viv said, straining to see past him.

Regina was touching Henley’s arm, leaning in to murmur something. It looked like she was dying to wrap her fingers around his biceps and squeeze.

“Stepmothers,” Dusty said. “They’re the worst, aren’t they?”

There wasn’t any judgment on Dusty’s face, just a strained kind of sympathy. “Yeah,” Viv said. “In this town, anyway.”

Dusty was by herself now. Max had skated off through the crowd to get another beer. Viv noticed that Dusty’s eyes went
to him periodically. Not searching or worried. Just like she enjoyed looking at him.

“So, you guys are happy?” Viv asked.

“We think so,” Dusty said. “I wouldn’t say we’re a storybook romance, like those two”—she nodded at the Queen Bee prince and princess—“but it
is
different than a normal relationship. Because your curse, the way it plays out … it bonds you. Whatever happens, you have this magical time that you shared, that no one else will ever have.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you won’t have that, but you have to hang in there. And”—Dusty’s gaze traveled to where Henley stood with Regina—“be careful. Because that guy’s enormous. And it looks like—”

“I know what it looks like,” Viv said.

Regina was introducing Henley to some cursed society ladies; not women she was friends with, just women who’d be appalled at seeing her with a Huntsman, and who’d be sure to talk about it later.

Regina had never been so public about their curse. Usually she was nasty in the privacy of their own home, and played the role of happy trophy wife at parties. But tonight it was like she was making a statement, letting everyone know that change was coming.

Viv left the happy couples and cut through the party to get farther away from Regina’s little show.

People were looking at her in a manner they probably thought was discreet. A few of the guests greeted her, and she smiled and said hello because this was her dad’s club and that was what she was expected to do. But she didn’t linger. She only stopped when she reached the floor-to-ceiling windows
that overlooked the grounds. Standing before her reflection, ghostly against the backdrop of night, she pressed her forehead to the glass, yearning to be anywhere else. On the green, a few hundred feet away, cell phone screens flickered in the darkness. Probably teenagers. There was always a group who cut out of the party to drink or fool around on the grounds.

Maybe she’d join them. They hadn’t seen Henley with Regina. She could go and listen to their inane conversations and drink until they seemed entertaining. It would be better than this.

Next to the window, French doors led to a terrace that was used for outdoor dining. Viv’s hand closed around the door handle.

But first she turned back, unable to resist looking again, and saw that Henley was alone. Regina was with Stephen, chatting with Ted and Helen Grant, and Henley was weaving through the crowd, trying not to act like he was looking for someone. An aura of awkwardness surrounded him. She knew he hated places like this. He was an outsider here and no one would pretend that he wasn’t.

Viv didn’t like the club, either, but she never felt like she didn’t belong. She felt like an outsider around Henley’s friends. They were a completely different crowd of Cursed. There was Jack Tran—the self-proclaimed king of the Giant Killers (all Giant Killers took the name
Jack
; you had to know their last names to know who anyone was)—and Elliot Nicks, with his stolen tinderbox and the creepy dogs that did his bidding whenever he lit up. There was always a group of Red Riding Hoods; plus hangers-on, kids without curses who wanted to be part of the crowd; a few Bandit Girls; and that jerk with the
mirror shard stuck in his eye who could see everyone’s flaws and was always calling people on their shit.

Henley finally noticed her, started to come over, and Viv slipped out the door. The way she was feeling, a simple conversation would blow up into an argument, and she didn’t want to be a spectacle for the past-their-prime Cursed at the party. Those vultures had enough to talk about already.

As she stepped onto the dark golf course, Viv was hit by a memory from tenth grade: fall formal, a few months before Henley was cursed. They’d gone to the dance because she wanted the snobs at her prep school to see her hot boyfriend all dressed up. Walking in with him while everyone stared—that was the best part. But the music sucked and she didn’t like her classmates, so they left early and came to Seven Oaks. Snuck onto the green with a couple of clubs and whacked balls into the darkness—laughing too loudly, shouting at the night. Henley shed his dress shirt and tie to play in his undershirt, and when security showed up, they ran. Viv abandoned her shoes but saved Henley’s shirt. She wore it home where she hung it in her closet and periodically pressed her nose to the fabric, smelling cut grass and Henley’s woodsy cologne. Like she had a piece of him even when he wasn’t there. The scent had long since faded, but she still had the shirt in her closet.

Viv pushed the memory down. They’d had lots of good nights, but that was in the past. Now, when people stared, they looked at her not like she was lucky, but like she had a death wish.

She heard the door open behind her, a sudden rush of party noise until it closed.

Henley called her name. Part of her wanted to turn back—there
was no one here she’d rather be with. But she kept going. She knew it would annoy him—it would’ve annoyed her, if he’d done it.

“How long are you going to pretend I’m not here?”

She stopped then. “I guess I’m taking my cues from you. Did your date get bored of you?”

“You think I want to be at this party? I’m here because you are.”

“Sorry, I could’ve sworn Regina was parading you around. Was it me? Are we here together?”

“Your stepmom and I,” he said, “walked in at the same time. You would have been there, too, if you hadn’t rushed inside before I could even talk to you.”

“Well, I didn’t know I was supposed to wait. I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah … why is your stepmom the one who invites me, and you jump out of my truck like you’re ditching a cab? I’m not your taxi service.”

“No, you’re her puppet.”

“Really, Viv? I’m her puppet now?”

“That’s what everyone
thinks
. That’s what you let them believe. And why would you, unless it’s true? Do you just like the attention? Or do you just like getting a good view of her boobs?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She wasn’t sure she knew anymore. She was at the point in the argument when she could feel things spiraling out of her control, when she barely knew what was coming out of her mouth. She felt gripped by panic—the need to make him believe her, to understand why she was upset. There was no
backpedaling or apologizing. She moved in one direction and that was away. Farther and farther away from the Viv and Henley who’d played midnight golf on the green—the world on one side, the two of them on the other.

“All right. Whatever. Have fun with these assholes. I’m leaving.”

That wasn’t what she wanted, but she couldn’t stop. “Good. ’Cause I’m looking for a new boyfriend and it’ll be much easier without you around.”

“Yeah? That’s what you’re going to do tonight?”

“Maybe I can find a guy who’ll draw a heart on my hand. That would be a cute, flirty thing to do.”

He sighed. “You’re still going on about that?”

She posed with her hands over her heart. “I just think it’s
so cute
. So charming. I wish I’d thought of that. You know, sometime after fifth grade.”

“You sound like you’re in fifth grade.”

“That’s not what my new boyfriend’s going to say.”

Knowing he was still watching her, she headed toward the group of kids on the green, following the beacon of their cell phones and cigarettes. She didn’t know what she would do exactly. Just that she would do something, as long as Henley was there to witness it.

She edged into the circle—twelve guys and girls from her prep school. There were two princes: Danny Mirza, the youngest brother in a Three Princes and Princess Nouronnihar curse, and Ben Arden, who had a Rapunzel curse. There was a princess-and-servant pair, Acacia Vaughan and Ivy West—best friends who shared a Goose Girl curse. The rest got by on the status of their parents’ curses. The boys wore bright polo
shirts and the girls wore strapless shift dresses patterned with tropical flowers and birds. The Goose Girls were drinking Grey Goose from a lipstick-smeared bottle.

Danny’s eyes were glued to Cara Basil, a girl whose claim to fame was her social-climbing dad’s enchanted cat. She was showing everyone how she could tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue. Danny was making jokes about popping cherries and Cara kept laughing, but not hard enough to choke on the cherry; and when she showed them the knotted stem, Danny said, “Damn. What else can you do with your tongue?” And Viv threw up in her mouth a little but decided he was definitely her target.

Danny had been part of a cursed love quadrangle with his two older brothers and their cousin, and ever since he’d lost the girl to his brother, he’d been drifting closer to playboy territory. Viv didn’t have a lot of patience, and she needed someone who’d flirt with her
now
, not in ten minutes.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said to Danny, stepping up to him and putting her hand on his chest.

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked past her to Henley. Half wary—Huntsmen had bad reputations—and half tempted, because Viv was looking at him in a way that was about as subtle as one of his cherry jokes.

“Yeah.” She curled her hand around his collar, pulled him down to her height. “I have to tell you a secret.” And then she whispered something dirty in his ear. Her lips brushed his earlobe; her hair tickled his neck. It didn’t matter what she said. It didn’t have any meaning to her beyond the reaction it got out of him, which was shocked laughter and fingers that dug into the fabric of her dress.

She was only half focused on what Danny was doing. She was thinking about Henley, how angry he would be—as angry as she’d been? Angrier? Her breath caught.

She waited for a hand to grab her from behind, for Henley’s fingers to close around her throat—and hoped that someone would pull him off her if they did. But the only hand on her was Danny’s, and she was getting tired of that. A few more minutes and he might start to believe she’d meant what she’d said.