CHAPTER FIVE
It was a Thursday night, the bookstore was closed, and Staci was sitting in the living room with her laptop plugged into the phone line, reading the Facebook pages of the people who used to be her friends. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the back door open, and someone come inside.
She was looking for something to use for a weapon when her mom peered into the living room. “Oh, hey,” she said, vaguely waving in Staci’s direction. “I guess you’re settling in all right.”
Staci bit back a million angry things that surged into her mind, and just said, “I guess. You’re home early.”
“Bar’s pretty much empty so the boss sent me home,” her mom replied, and made a face. “Big baseball game, so the usual crowd all went out to a sports bar to watch it. Then they’ll come back tomorrow night and bitch all night about having to pay six bucks for a beer so they could watch the game. I’ll let you interweb in peace. Night, honey.”
Meaning, “I’m going to my room to drink myself to sleep,” Staci thought, acidly. What the hell is wrong with this town?
She could kind of see the kids giving up on trying to get anything to come here, but the adults, who should have been able to change things, seemed stuck in a case of permanent apathy. Even Tim didn’t bother to care much about anything outside of his store. No, that wasn’t quite right; he wasn’t the same as the rest of the adults in town. There was a different reason for him being the way he was; Staci just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Well, look at tonight. You would think that the owner of a local bar would be upset about losing his customers to a sports bar in the next town! And you would think he’d do something to get satellite in, even if you couldn’t manage to get cable to work. It’s not as if they were unaware that these things existed, after all—people went out of town to shop, or they caught games at bars and restaurants. But…no. The answer, the few times she’d asked an adult—like the lone guy who ran a computer-repair place—why no one tried to figure out why Silence couldn’t support net or cell or cable, the answer was always “it can’t be done” or “it’s not worth the effort” and a shrug.
It was almost as if, once you left school, you got infected with some kind of zombie-apathy virus.
In disgust at seeing one more shopping post, she finally gave up on Facebook. She’d managed to send her dad a selfie today, when she’d gone up to Makeout Hill. She’d posed it very carefully, wearing the oldest and most faded of her thrift store finds. So there she was, no makeup, blond hair looking washed out in the overcast, a little thinner than she had been before (which she frankly thought was an improvement, and probably due to having to walk or bike everywhere), and looking more like an advertisement for helping street kids than the selfie on her Facebook page. She’d posed that one carefully too, wearing her best Juicy Couture outfit, makeup and jewelry that showed off her green eyes and good cheekbones, hair she had spent hours on. She’d told him she’d had to buy stuff to wear because she didn’t fit in and anyway, everything she had for summer was too light to wear given how cold it was here.
Okay, it was manipulative, but Brenda was manipulating him too, and anyway, it looked like the selfie had paid off. The latest email from Dad said he was sending her an L.L. Bean card. So at least she could get stuff that wouldn’t make her look like she was homeless.
If things weren’t exactly looking up, at least they weren’t quite sucking as much.
The sound of bottles clinking in the fridge made her decide she might as well take her lappie upstairs and watch a movie. Not feeling like being Mom’s drinking buddy, she reflected cynically. Although, at least last year, when Mom had taken her as a drunken confidant, she hadn’t also offered her beer.…
* * *
Friday found her early at the coffee bar, waiting for the others—who surprised her by coming in at five, rather than the seven she had expected. “Did you eat yet?” Wanda asked, as they all came in. She shook her head, expecting the answer to result in them all going over in a bunch to the Burger Shack.
“Good, then you might as well come along with us,” replied Seth. “Second Friday of the month.”
“Yeah, it is, what’s that got to do with anything?” she asked, standing up, and slinging her purse over her shoulder.
“First Methodist does a BBQ for teeeeeeeenz,” Wanda answered, drawing the word out sarcastically. “That means our folks don’t bother feeding us. Fourth Friday is a movie night with hot dogs. Which means our folks don’t bother feeding us.”
After a moment of thought, Staci identified “First Methodist” as the “okay church that sometimes puts stuff on for kids,” that Beth had told her about. “Okay,” she replied, following them out the door. Free food was free food. It couldn’t be worse than the Burger Shack.
As usual, the others were on foot, so she walked her bike along with them. The church in question was higher up on the slope that Silence was built on, and she was actually glad she wasn’t going to have to peddle her bike up it. The road they were taking was almost as steep a grade as the one up Makeout Hill.
When they got to the church—which at first glance looked like something on a New England postcard, all white and complete with steeple, and only at second glance did you notice that the new paint had been slapped over the old without anyone scraping or priming the bad parts—the BBQ was already as close to “going strong” as anything she’d yet seen in Silence. There were six adults presiding over six old kettle grills, three giant aluminum tubs full of ice and sodas, and a table with a red and white checkered tablecloth holding paper plates, condiments and bags of chips. Someone’s radio with blown-out speakers was tuned to Silence’s only station, and there were twenty or thirty kids ranging in age from nine to late teens milling around with food.
Looks like the gang’s ’rents aren’t the only ones that don’t bother feeding their kids.
This was the biggest number of people she had seen in one place, ever, in Silence. Even with the conversations and the music from the radio, the gathering seemed a little too quiet for that many people. Her group wove its way through the crowd until they had reached the tables with the food on them.
“Kind of dead, isn’t it?” Staci noticed that most people were keeping to themselves; the only conversations that were happening were in small clusters of people. Everyone that she made eye contact with looked away shortly after, as if they were purposefully ignoring her.
“Are you kidding? This is a regular jumping time in good ol’ Silence.” Jake had piled three hot dogs on his plate, and was reaching for a fourth. “Almost better than watching grass grow.”
It didn’t take long for her group to make their way through the food line and pick a corner in some shade from the setting sun. They were probably the loudest group there, and constantly got looks from the adults and some of the other kids. And it wasn’t as if they were being seriously loud. They were just talking normally.
As the sun went down, somebody turned on the exterior lights. There were a couple floods on the back of the church, and strings of old Christmas lights and the sort of bare-bulb things you used to see at used car lots before people realized having four big floodlights cost less to run than strings of bare bulbs. I didn’t know you could still get plain light bulbs…Then again, this was Silence. All 1950s, all the time. Except for the music which seemed to be stuck on “All Eagles, all the time.”
Staci ate mostly in silence, piping up for certain parts of the conversation that the others were having. By and large, she just listened.
“I don’t care; Boba Fett is seriously underwhelming.”
“Now that’s a bunch of crap! He’s an interstellar bounty hunter. He’s got weapons on every inch of his person, and a badass ship. He’s able to get the drop on Han Solo, for crying out loud!”
“Actually, that was Vader—”
“Whatever. Point is, I hope we see more of him.”
“He got knocked into the gut of a giant monster. By a blind guy. With a stick. The most you’ll be seeing of him is a pile of throwup with a dinged helmet in the middle of it.”
“Hey, read the Expanded Universe, Jake! You know I got the books. Rule of Cool, man.”
Staci was having a hard time keeping up with the flow of the conversation, but she was getting better than she had been when she first joined the group. At least she actually knew what Star Wars was. Wanda waited until the other three were fully involved in science fiction minutiae before she scooted over to where Staci was sitting.
“So, want the dope on the rest of the peeps here?” Wanda asked, in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Sure,” Staci whispered back, looking at her burger. It was better than the Burger Shack, even if it was a little burned.
“Okay, the adults don’t really count, but they’re the minister, Reverend Franklin, his wife Eloise, Fred and Thelma Krause, and Joe and Evelyn White. They’re all okay. Now, the six kids closest to us are the skaters. Ken and Stan Jennis, Larry Green, Jerry Krause and Tom Pendergras. You never see one of them alone, it’s like they are joined at the hip or something. The jocks and their gfs, who are the Cheerleading Squad, are just past them, and there’s no point in telling you who they are because you will never be invited into their exalted company.”
Staci giggled a little at that. “So the skaters are okay with us and—”
“And to the Loyal and Exalted Society of Jocks and Jockettes, we do not exist.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “You should remember I told you that our football and basketball teams have never won anything in the history of ever, right?”
“Yeah. Not sure what they have to be stuck-up about,” Staci agreed.
“Me either. The minute they graduate, they’re gonna go straight to work, and you know what the options are around here. Not that too many people from Silence ever go to college, but it’s a cinch the jocks never do. This is the best they’ll ever get. Gotta hang on to what little glory they can, I guess.” Wanda sighed. “Seems pretty pathetic to me, but they’re Neanderthals, so, uggah-wuggah, me strong, me alpha male.”
“So…the guys with the white T-shirts—let me guess, they’re the science nerds?” Staci hazarded.
“Yes, and two of them are girls. Mary Krause, Bill Schoeder, Bob Flint, Kyle Peterson, Maureen Silk. They’re cool. The only reason they aren’t over here with us is because they’d have to cross alpha-male territory to get here.” Wanda finished off by pointing out a few of the kids who were eating alone, one with her nose stuck in a book, a harried kid who was trying to keep his hyperactive brother from jumping off the steeple or imploding, and about twenty kids who were “from the bad part of town, if you can imagine that we have one” who were keeping to themselves, and a half a dozen kids too young for high school. “There’s a lot of kids that don’t come here, or only come here once in a while, because they’re on night shift at a job, or they’re too tired after being on the fishing boats all day,” Wanda concluded. “Probably about two thirds of the kids going to high school have summer jobs. We’re desperate to get car and gas money, as you can imagine.”
“Yeah,” Staci agreed.
“Then there’s the Goths. Over there. In the shadows. Being mysterious. Sue ‘Valentina’ Griffin, Eric ‘Vlad’ White, Brittany ‘Bella’ Hailey, Rob ‘Blade’ Ketcham, and Kelsey ‘I’m-a-mega-bitch-and-play-with-dead-things-because-it’s-creepy’ Johnson. I used to hang out with them, but then they started to get way too dark and mopey. Even for me, which is saying something. Jake, Riley, and Seth are a better fit, anyways.”
“I was never into wearing uniforms,” Staci replied, eyeing their all-black outfits, dyed black hair, identical black nail polish and black eyeliner.
Wanda nearly choked on her bite of hot dog.
That got the attention of the Star Wars geeks. “What?” asked Seth.
“Uniforms—” Wanda managed to get out, nodding at the Goth clique. Seth looked at her puzzled for a moment; Riley got it first, and smothered a fit of giggles behind both hands.
“Really,” Jake said, when the light dawned for him. “And there is, seriously, only so much Morrissey and Nine Inch Nails you can listen to, am I right?”
And that was when the atmosphere changed, completely.
There was a…sound. Once you’ve heard the engine noise of a really expensive, really high-powered sports car, you never mistake that sound for anything else. The steel canyons of New York were good for that; Staci had heard, and consequently seen, a lot of high dollar cars. That was what Staci heard now, pulling up in the front of the church and stopping, and so did everyone else. All the conversations stopped dead. All heads turned; it was…weird. Even for Silence. Staci had never been in a situation where literally everyone stopped doing everything and waited for the appearance of—
He came around the corner of the church, and somehow, every bit of light seemed to be pulled towards him, as if he was creating his own spotlight. He paused for a moment, and cast his eyes over the crowd, giving the crowd more than enough time to take him in.
He looked to be in his late teens, he was blond and if you could be ruggedly handsome and angelic at the same time, he certainly fit both descriptions. Staci, as a New Yorker, knew how to pick out the subtle details that told you that someone’s clothing was expensive, and his certainly was. It might just be a light gray leather jacket, a black T-shirt, and a pair of jeans and boots, but the way it fit him, it all had to be tailored.
“That,” Wanda said, quietly enough that she didn’t break the silence, “is Sean Blackthorne, youngest of the Blackthornes, gracing us with his Presence.”
Sean’s eyes—a striking emerald green—passed over the crowd. He nodded to the jocks, waved a little to one of the adults, and then, locked gazes with Staci.
“None of them ever come to these things; I can’t ever remember one of them coming here, at least,” said Seth, his plate of food forgotten next to him.
The conversations started up again, now a little less muted than before, once Sean Blackthorne started to make his rounds. He flowed between all of the groups effortlessly, from the adults to the jocks to the math nerds to the Goths to the skaters. Staci couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. Once or twice, it looked as if Wanda was going to say something about that—but then she shut her mouth.
Then, for the second time, Sean Blackthorne locked gazes with Staci. From across the entire gathering, he was staring directly at her. Not just a passing glance…but staring at her. All of the conversations fell to a quiet hush again, as more and more of the attendees turned to see what Sean was looking at. Staci felt her face flush, and did her best to focus on what remained of the food on her plate. Oh god, oh god, oh god. Why is he looking at me?
She felt a block of ice drop into her stomach when she noticed that an expensive pair of boots had just walked up to her. Slowly, she let her eyes drift upwards. Sean must’ve been six and a half feet tall, easily. A chin that looked like it was hewn from marble, a strong Roman nose, and eyes that had a peculiar—and almost entrancing—glint in them. His golden hair wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short either. It had that look to it that said someone who was paid an awful lot of money had cut it to look precisely halfway between tousled and tamed.
“Hi. I’m Sean Blackthorne. I don’t recognize you, and I know just about everyone in this little town of ours. What’s your name?”
“S-Staci,” she stammered, looking up into his green, green eyes. “Staci Kerry.”
Please, please, please don’t let him say “Oh, you must be Paula Kerry’s girl.…” She did not want him to know she was the daughter of the drunk waitress at the Rusty Bucket.
“A pleasure, Staci.” He smiled. It was a smile warm enough to make her knees feel a little weak. “I don’t know if this is too forward, but I was wondering if you would accompany me back to my family’s estate; a few of us are having a sort of impromptu get-together there, and my other date bailed on me.”
She blinked, not sure what to say. On the one hand—Oh my god, the hottest guy I have ever seen just asked me to his estate for a party! On the other hand, wasn’t this how every single rape-fantasy story ever started out? Or something like this? Not to mention about half the horror movies she had ever seen…
“Think about it,” he urged, as if he was reading her mind. “The invitation is open-ended and I’ll be here a while longer.” Then he strolled over to the Jocks’n’Cheers, with an understanding smile cast over one shoulder.
“Holeee shit,” Seth breathed. “That was Sean Blackthorne…”
“Inviting Staci to the Elite Meet and Eat, yeah,” Riley replied, envy in her voice thick enough to spread. “Oh man. I am so jealous. I am so jealous.” Then she looked down at herself with chagrin. “Not that I’m likely to pass as anything other than one of the maids.”
Staci felt someone jiggling her elbow; it was Wanda. Her eyes were wide, but not with excitement; it was alarm. She didn’t say anything, just kept her eyes locked with Staci’s, shaking her head very slightly. I didn’t think she’d be the jealous type. How can I say no to him? This could be my chance to actually get noticed in this nowhere town, and have something to do.
“You’ve got to go, Staci,” said Seth, even if his voice dripped envy. “Seriously. I’m dying to find out what goes on at those parties. Actually, I am dying to find out if they somehow got broadband, and if the rest of us can figure out how.”
“Get a gander at how the other half lives. And score some free chow! Don’t forget us little people; bring back as many doggie bags as you can.” Jake looked as if he was already daydreaming of lobster and steak.
Riley sighed. “Promise you’ll take notes, or something. The only thing anyone has ever said about the Blackthorne mansion to me is that it’s big and everything is expensive. Big duh there.”
Wanda rolled her eyes. It was clear she had been outvoted. “Be careful. That’s all I’m going to say.” She stood up, dusted the grass off of her clothing, and beelined for the soda coolers.
With the encouragement of three of the four Musketeers, Staci wound up her courage and left the group. She hesitated for a moment, halfway between them and the gaggle of jocks and cheerleaders that Sean was currently talking to, when Sean turned his head a little and caught her eye again. Once more, she found herself mesmerized by his gaze as he made some comment, left the group and came towards her.
“Please tell me you decided to accept the invitation, not that you have a date with a good movie and some ice cream,” he said with a smile. “I don’t think my ego could stand it.”
“I’d love to come,” Staci said simply.
“Excellent. We were just about to head out.” He offered the crook of his arm for her. “Shall we?” He allowed his gaze to drift over the various groups and made a tiny circling motion with his free hand. Roughly five other people detached themselves from their cliques and followed them down to the car.
Staci had expected a sports car from the sound of that engine. It wasn’t. It was—well, she wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. It was certainly as sleek as an expensive sports car, but it had the capacity of a limousine. It was easy enough to fit everyone else, though Staci got pride-of-place in the front passenger seat. She wished she knew more about cars; all she could tell for sure was that the inside was mostly glove-soft blood-red leather, with dark wood and black-chrome details.
Sean started the car. The engine roared to life, the sound of it suggesting that Staci had been right about this vehicle having the heart of a high-dollar sports car. Then he touched a control, and music started in the middle of a song. Pop, but played through some really amazing speakers, the music took on a lush quality she’d never heard before. The couple of jocks and their cheerleader girlfriends that were in the back talked amongst themselves; they all seemed excited to actually be going to The Party, and hardly even noticed that Staci was there. She didn’t mind that, actually; it was a lot better to be overlooked than purposefully ignored.
Sean drove the car fast and hard, but not so hard that she felt even the least bit alarmed at the speed. Now and again he would glance over at her and smile slightly, as if to reassure her. She always smiled back.
She didn’t recognize the road, but it was definitely climbing the slope on which Silence was built. Then, when it reached the crest, the road suddenly plunged into forest. There was nothing on either side of the road but darkness, and glimpses of reflected tree trunks standing so close together they almost made a sort of fence.
Then, when she was beginning to wonder just when they were going to get to the Blackthorne Estate, the car turned into a driveway she hadn’t seen until they reached it, and as a pair of huge, solid gates opened up to let them in, she saw it, lit up in the near distance, like something out of a movie.
It was much bigger than she had expected. Not that she’d ever actually seen a mansion herself, except a couple in New York City that had been turned into museums or something. But this was enormous. Three stories tall, and it sprawled away on either side from a massive portico supported by six stone columns. All she could think of was that the electric bill to light the place must be the equivalent of most peoples’ mortgages.
There was a circular drive (of course there was) that led under the portico. Sean stopped the car there; the kids in the back all piled out, as a servant opened the doors, first for them, then for her. Sean got out on his side and held out his hand to her to help her out. She flushed, wishing desperately that she was wearing something other than what she was. Like that cute little beaded dress that Brenda stole…
Rather than going into the mansion, however, Sean led the way around the side, giving her plenty of time to admire the gardener’s handiwork and try not to gawp at the size of the place. Once they got to the back, it was pretty obvious that this was where the partying was happening.
There was a massive pool, of course, with not just one, but four huge Jacuzzis, and a sort of artificial stream, like Staci had seen in the brochures for fancy resorts that Brenda was always getting. The stream was big enough to have a bridge over it, and there were several people—some fully clothed—floating down it in brightly colored inner-tubes. There were four tent pavilions set up, one by the pool, one on an immense lawn between the pool and the mansion, one on an immense patio attached to the mansion, and one in the garden. They were all lit up with colored lights, and she could see big tables with stuff on them and servants standing behind them, and little tables and chairs inside the nearest. The pool had its own lighting, underwater, cycling through colors. The patio had its own lighting, designed to be bright enough you could see, but neither harsh nor glaring. The gardens had lights buried in the shrubbery, and the fountain in the garden was all lit up.
There was a second house beside the pool, easily bigger than the one she shared with her mom. “I live there,” Sean said, with a nod at it. “It makes cleaning up after parties easier, and keeps the rest of my family from getting hassled. Just tell one of the servants if you want anything.” He patted her hand and gently detached it from his elbow. “I have to make the rounds for a little bit, being as I’m the host and all, but I’ll be back.” He paused, and waved a hand at a lounge chair placed by itself a little away from the pool. “That’s a comfortable seat. One of the servants will be around in a minute to see what you need.”
Feeling utterly overwhelmed by so much luxury, she couldn’t think of what to do except take his advice. The lounge was covered, not in the canvas she expected from outdoor furniture, but something soft and velvety. She tucked her legs up, and was just starting to look around when a man in a formal uniform approached her.
“And what may I get miss?” he asked, sounding like a butler in a series about rich English lords, only without the accent.
“I’m…not sure…” she stammered.
“Would miss prefer soda or a strong beverage?” he asked, his face absolutely blank, as she looked up at him. “Our bartenders can mix anything you like.”
She cast a glance around. Everyone else seemed to be drinking beer or mixed drinks. And…most of them looked, at least to her, underage. Still…yeah, I really need to get hammered when most of these people probably know my mom as one of the local lushes…“Coke?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the servant said, actually sounding sorry. “The Blackthornes have a serious allergic reaction to caffeine. We have any other soda, however.”
Caffeine allergy? She’d never heard of that before. That must suck. Then she almost giggled as she thought of something. “I’ll have a Shirley Temple,” she said. “Thank you.” She’d look like she was drinking, without actually drinking. And if she got tired of sweet stuff, there were always Virgin Marys.
“Certainly, miss, and I will bring miss an assortment of snacks, as well.” The servant didn’t wait for her reply to this, he just whisked himself off to the pavilion and before she’d had a chance to do more than try and find the kids from the BBQ among the other partiers, he was back with her drink and a plate of hot and cold snacks. He set both on a little table next to her, and whisked himself off again before she even had a chance to offer her thanks. She had never been waited on like this before; restaurant waiters in NYC weren’t exactly rude, but they weren’t waiting at your every beck and call, either, not when there were three dozen tables during lunchtime that all needed attention.
She was getting some veiled looks as she sat there by herself, nibbling and drinking. Eventually, Sean returned; one moment she was sipping her drink, looking at a wonderful fountain sculpture, and the next moment he was beside her.
“Finding everything to your liking?” He smiled down at her.
She decided that honesty was the best at this point. I bet he’s surrounded by phonies. So I’ll be different. “I don’t fit in,” she said. “But hey, I don’t fit in Silence anyway. I’m a New York girl. I wouldn’t even be here if my stepmother hadn’t kicked me out so her little angel boy could have my room.”
“I was asking about the party and the refreshments, actually.” He chuckled. He wasn’t laughing at her, thank goodness. She was stumbling over herself for a moment to compliment him on everything; the food, the drinks, the service, how beautiful everything was.
“It’s okay, Staci. But about what you were saying before…that…sucks,” he said, shaking his head. “Seriously. I can’t even imagine having…everything, right at your door, practically, then end up here, where there’s nothing.” Sean paused, thinking for a moment.
God, does he have to look gorgeous while he does that, too?
“How about this; let me introduce you around, help you to get to know a few people here. Would that be all right with you?”
“Sure—” she said, because, really, what else could she say and not end up looking like some kind of antisocial freak?
He held his hand out to her to help her up from her seat. She took his hand, and immediately noticed how strong it was; she wasn’t expecting it, especially when he easily helped her up, hardly needing to bend over. His fingers were strong, but somehow had a delicate quality to them. No bitten off nails or torn up cuticles; not quite manicured, either, but close. “Let’s get you properly introduced, now.”
After that it was a whirlwind of faces and names, and Staci quickly lost track of who was who. She met the mayor’s kids, a brother and sister, the chief of police’s son—who was probably the most drunk person at the entire party—and a flood of others. While before they had looked at her with mild disdain, now that she was hanging off the elbow of Sean…they couldn’t wait to get to know her. How she got to Silence, what it was like in New York City, if she went to Broadway plays or went clubbing all the time. Many of them expressed their sympathy for her living situation, and the way she had been dumped by her father and new stepmother. Some of it actually felt genuine. Of course, they also were all inviting her to their own get-togethers and along for their own plans; trips to the mall in the next town over, house parties, all of it, and how it would just be wonderful if she could join them.
There were others Sean introduced her to only briefly. People who were almost too drunk to stand. “It’s what they like,” he said apologetically, after one tried to kiss her, fell over his own feet, and miraculously landed in a lounge chair where he immediately passed out. “There’s plenty of room to sleep it off here, anyway, so it’s not as if I’m putting drunks on the road.” He chuckled. “The servants are all trained in picking pockets. Anyone too drunk to drive won’t find his keys until he’s sober.”
“Wow!” she said, impressed. “That’s—”
“It’s smart,” he interrupted. “If I didn’t take care of my guests, these parties would stop. Money doesn’t shield you from everything, you know. And it’s not as if there’s much to do in Silence for some of them besides drink.” He shrugged.
She looked at the food, at the pool, at the house…then again, if this was what you were used to, maybe you could get bored with it.
Well, she wasn’t used to it. And aside from not knowing anyone, and so, often not knowing what people were talking about, this was probably the best party she had been to, ever. But after a while something made her look at her watch, and she realized with a sense of shock that it was after midnight. And once again, Sean seemed to somehow intuit what she was thinking.
“I bet it’s getting late for you,” he said. “And it’s a long way back to town. Let me get you home.”
He led her back around to the front of the mansion again, and that portico. She thought about being all alone with him in that car…wondered if he was going to try something… She had never had trouble putting off unwanted advances before, but everything about tonight seemed like it was from a completely different world.
But to her mingled relief and disappointment, he left her with the—was it a butler? a footman?—waiting at the front of the house. “Get Padrick to take Miss Staci home, would you, Harris?” he said, once again gently detaching her hand from his arm. “I’m the host, and at this stage in the party, it would not only be rude to leave, it might be stupid,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’d find a television or all of the lounges in the pool, or something equally awkward. The chauffeur will take care of you. Just tell him where you need to go.”
“Sean, thank you for everything. Tonight was…well, it was just great. I haven’t seen or been to anything like this since I’ve come to Silence. But…well, I had one question.”
“I just might have one answer. Shoot, Staci.” He grinned, flashing those dazzling white teeth at her. Damn if he isn’t smooth.
“Why me? I mean…” She let her voice fade, unable to articulate what she wanted to say. That she wasn’t all that special. That she wasn’t gorgeous—she’d seen gorgeous, there were models going to her old high school. She wasn’t able to make conversation of the kind that had guys hanging off her words. She wasn’t special, not in any way. She’d always considered herself good, but not special, because in New York, you could go see special walking around in Soho, or Dumbo, or the Village, any time you wanted to.
“It’s not every day that we get anyone new coming to Silence. Especially cute girls.” He paused for a moment, still smiling before shrugging. “I like to know everyone that I can. You never can tell when it’ll be helpful, down the road. So, I figured I’d get to know you a little better tonight. Satisfied with my answer?”
She nodded, unsure whether she wanted to feel flattered or obscurely disappointed. And she never got a chance to sort things out further, because that was when a huge, blood-red limousine, complete with a uniformed chauffeur, pulled up.
“Here’s your ride,” he said brightly, and reached into a pocket, pulling out a little rectangular gold case. “And here’s my number,” he said, taking a card from it, and pressing it into her hand. Then he pulled out a tiny pencil from the case. “What’s yours?”
She stammered, giving him her cell number first, by accident. “Oh wait, that’s my cell—” she corrected, flushing.
“Which doesn’t work here,” he finished, with a nod of sympathy. She gave him her mom’s number, and he duly wrote it down inside the case. “If for some reason I don’t call you in a few days, I want you to call me. All right? I’m serious.”
“Okay…”
“Cool. We’ll hang out again soon, maybe get some coffee.” There was a peal of laughter and shouts from the rest of the party. “That’s my cue; better get back before anyone tries to climb on something. Good night, Staci.” With a final wave, he started to walk back to the party.
Well, what else could she do but get in the limo, what with the driver standing there patiently holding the door open for her?
It was like being driven around in a luxury hotel room. There was even a bar. Since it had bottled water, she helped herself to a bottle. The bottles were glass, not plastic, and unlabeled; she had seen “artesian water” like this served in super-high-end restaurants. It was even chilled.
Just after they came out of the woods and were still at the top of the bluff, she remembered with dismay that she had left her bike at the church, and bit off an exclamation of annoyance.
The little speaker next to the bar activated with a faint hiss. “Yes, miss?” the chauffeur said.
She flushed. “Nothing. I’m just going to have to get my bike from the church tomorrow and it’s a l—”
“Not at all, miss. Master Sean would be extremely put out if he found out we hadn’t picked it up for you. First Methodist, I believe?”
“Uh—ye—”
“Very good, miss.”
The limo rolled to an almost silent stop at the church, which was, of course, dark. The gang had warned her that everything would close up by eleven at the latest, and it was almost one, now. The chauffeur came around to her door and let her out. “I’ll get the boot open, miss. If you’ll tell me where—”
“No, no, it’s all right,” she said hastily. “I need to unlock it anyway.”
“Very good, miss.” He went to the back of the car. She hurried off towards the bike rack at the front of the church. It was sitting under a single yellow streetlamp, which was flickering intermittently. She bent down to unlock the chain; the lock was being stubborn, refusing to come open even after she put the right combination in. The light above her flickered a few more times…and then she noticed one of the creepy gnomes with the red, pointed caps, sitting right next to the light pole, facing directly at her.
Staci almost jumped out of her skin, falling onto her backside with a yelp of surprise and pain, her bike knocked over.
“Miss, are you all right?” The driver was calling from the car; he must have heard her or saw her fall over in one of his mirrors.
“Yeah, I’m fine…just got, um, startled.” She stood up, rubbing her now sore backside with one hand. “Stupid, weird little troll,” she muttered, kicking the gnome and sending it rolling off into some nearby bushes. Finally, she managed to unlock her bike, and trudged back to the limo with it in tow. I really hate whoever is putting those freaky lawn decorations everywhere. Really, really hate.
The driver had exited the limo by that point, and took her bike from her and loaded it into the trunk, which was big enough to hold three bikes. She got into the back as he held the door open for her, and picked up her bottle of water. As she did so, she cast a sour glance at the bushes she’d kicked the freaky little gnome into.
The light flickered again, and she thought she saw it—not lying flat, but standing up again. And…looking down the hill at the car, and her.
But the limo rolled away and the light flickered out again, too quickly for her to be sure of what she had seen.
Must be some shadows, or my mind playing tricks on me. It’s been a doozy of a night.