Gluttony Page 12

  “Yeah.” He reached over and twisted his finger through her hair. “What time is it?”

  She checked her cell. “Almost nine.” Strange, it seemed later.

  “Okay. You think. I’ll think. And we’ll meet later—”

  “At midnight,” Harper suggested. “But before you go, there’s something … you need to know….” She wanted to tell him her secret—to tell him the truth about Kaia, and the accident. He deserved to know who she really was, and he deserved the chance to push her away.

  And maybe … he deserved the chance to forgive.

  “What?” he asked, after a long pause.

  But she couldn’t do it. She would, she promised herself, but only when she knew what was at stake. If he decided that he needed her as much as she needed him, then she would know she could trust him to keep her secret. Maybe she could even trust him not to leave her. But it was too soon—he was still unsure of what he wanted. So she couldn’t take the risk. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Save it for midnight.”

  “Where?”

  Harper scanned the skyline, and her gaze stumbled over the towering replica of the Empire State Building. It reminded her of some movie—some lame romantic comedy, probably, but certainly one with a happy ending. And she could use that kind of luck. She pointed. “Up there, on the roof. Whatever you decide.”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised. “And Harper …” He gripped her shoulders. “Whatever happens next, we need to make it work. Because this friendship—you …”

  “I know,” she assured him. “You don’t have to say it.”

  “Yes, I do.” He hugged her again, his strong arms locking her into the embrace. “This friendship is everything, Gracie. I’m not losing you again.”

  Miranda finished the meal still hungry, so she allowed Jackson to talk her into dessert: a massive ice-cream sundae with three scoops of chocolate chip ice cream, a hearty helping of chocolate hazelnut sauce topped by two cherries, all piled atop a freshly baked double fudge brownie. Miranda had promised herself she would only have a couple bites—but it was already half gone.

  “This is amazing,” she moaned as another gulp of icy sweetness slid down her throat. And she wasn’t just talking about the food. Kane’s bizarre interruptions aside, the night had gone remarkably well. It was the kind of date other people had: normal, pleasant, engrossing and, hopefully, all leading up to a good night kiss. Or more.

  This wasn’t the way Miranda’s life usually went, but it was, after all, almost her birthday. Maybe the universe was giving her a present.

  “You’re amazing.” Jackson told her, and scooped his spoon into the heaping sundae, then brought it to her lips. She sucked down another mouthful and, smiling at him, licked her lips. When Harper did that kind of thing, she always made it look incredibly sexy. Miranda suspected she just looked like a messy eater—but then, that’s what she was, so it couldn’t be helped. “Uh, you’ve still got a little on your face….”

  “Where?” Miranda asked, turning red. She slid her napkin across her lips and looked up at him. “Better?”

  Jackson laughed. “Not really. There’s still a little, just above your lips—no, not there—no, to the left … here.” He leaned across the table and gave her such a soft, brief kiss that she could almost believe she’d imagined it. “Mmmm,” he said, licking his own lips with a satisfied grin. “Sweet.”

  Miranda didn’t know what to do. She brushed her fingers against her lips, as if to check that the smear of ice cream was really gone—or to find some trace evidence of his kiss. Her fingertips tingled.

  They stared at each other, Miranda blushing and Jackson playing with the peace sign that hung on a chain around his neck. “You wanna get out of here?” Jackson finally said. “We could … go somewhere.”

  From the burning sensation in her cheeks, Miranda guessed that they had just turned from pale pink to fire engine red. But Jackson didn’t seem to care. “I guess,” she told him. “I’d like that.”

  Jackson gestured to the waitress that she should bring over the bill, but when she returned, she wasn’t alone. “This gentleman would like to speak with you,” she said, stepping aside to make way for a short, squat guy in a security guard uniform. He pointed at Jackson’s backpack.

  “Open the bag for me, sir.”

  Jackson stood up, but made no motion toward his backpack. “What’s this about?”

  “I said, open the bag, sir. Or I’ll open it for you.”

  “You can’t just come here and—”

  The security guy lunged for the bag and ripped it open before Jackson could stop him. He plunged his hand inside and pulled out a stack of candy bars and several plastic bags filled with green flakes. It looked like oregano. But Miranda knew it wasn’t.

  Jackson did a 180, dropping the offended bravado and starting to whine. “Look, man, give me a break, it’s just my private stash, and I’m just trying to have a good time here—”

  The security guard shook his head and waved the baggie in his face. “I don’t think so, kid. You got a lot of shit in here. This looks like intent to distribute, to me. And you know what that means.”

  Miranda sat dumbstruck as the long arm of the law—or, in this case, the short, hairy arm—reached out, grabbed her date, and dragged him out of the restaurant, backpack and all. “Babe, I’m sorry!” Jackson cried as they hustled him away. “I’ll call you….”

  In a moment he was gone, and she was left alone at an empty table, waiting for the check—which she would now have to cover herself. The whole restaurant was staring at her like she’d just turned green and sprouted antennae.

  “Happy birthday to me,” she muttered.

  “It’s not midnight yet,” a voice pointed out. “There’s still time for things to pick up.”

  “Did you do this?” she asked as Kane slid into the seat across from her, an even smugger than usual grin painted across his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you do this?”

  She’d never been so angry with him—she’d never been angry at him at all, in fact, since usually his careless smirk and halfhearted apologies charmed the emotion out of her before it had a chance to take root. But charm could only go so far.

  “It was for your own good, Stevens.”

  “Oh, really?” The sarcasm felt good, like she was in control again. And when he flinched at the cool anger in her voice, that was even better. “And how exactly do you figure that?”

  “He was a dealer, Stevens.”

  “So you got him arrested?” It’s not that Miranda wanted to date a drug dealer—and, she had to admit, there was a ring of truth in Kane’s words, especially given what she’d just seen of his supply—but still, he hadn’t seemed like a bad guy. And he’d kissed her.

  “The security guard’s a friend of mine,” Kane explained. “He’ll take him outside, give him a good scare, confiscate his stash, then let him go. Don’t worry about him—he’s not worth your time.”

  “What do you know?” she retorted.

  “I know he has a girlfriend.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No.”

  It was like getting punched in the stomach. “Oh.” She sank back in her seat, stared up at the ceiling, and wondered how she could have been so stupid.

  “I didn’t know,” Kane said. “Not at first, and then—it was too late.”

  “Uh-huh.” She’d been so excited, imagining that a cute college guy might actually be interested. And what did he turn out to be? A drug dealer with a girlfriend. Killing time. “So, what? He was just using me or something?” Why even bother, Miranda wondered. It’s not like she was hot—it’s not like this city wasn’t filled with beautiful women. Why pick on Miranda, unless he just got some sadistic joy out of stringing her along and watching her get her pathetic little hopes up? “So this was all some kind of game?” she guessed bitterly, trying to make her lower lip stop trembling. She didn’t want Kane to know how close she was to tears. “Get the pathetic loser t
o fall for him, go back to his room, and then—?”

  “No, that’s not it,” Kane said quickly. He slid across to the other side of the booth and put an arm around her. “He really liked you. He did.” But she could hear the lie in his words. “He wasn’t good enough for you, Stevens.”

  “I guess no one is,” Miranda spit out. “Maybe that’s my problem. That’s why I’m always ending up alone. I’m just too fabulous, right?” She closed her eyes and pressed a hand across her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice her sniffling. “I’m not going to thank you, you know,” she informed him, trying to sound strong.

  “Wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “You don’t need to pull asinine stunts like that just to rescue me from my own idiocy. I’m a big girl.”

  “The biggest. Elephantine.”

  A giggle sputtered out through her tears. “Shut up.”

  “I often say to myself, “That Miranda, she is truly an Amazonian giant among men. Doesn’t need any help from anyone, and too big to fit inside normal-size buildings. It’s—’”

  “Shut up,” she repeated, laughing and elbowing him in the side.

  “That’s better.” He gave her a soft shove back. “So what now?”

  Miranda tried to gather herself together. She took a deep breath. “I guess I should call Harper and tell her the date … ended early. She’ll probably want to hang out.” She reached for her cell phone, but he caught her wrist.

  “What’s your hurry?”

  “You have a better idea?” she asked. He hadn’t yet let go of her wrist.

  “Always. We get out of here, and I make things up to you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll be able to forgive me?”

  “Maybe,” she allowed. “If you behave.”

  The charming smile returned with a vengeance. “Not a chance.”

  She didn’t know what she was doing or where she was going, she just knew that she had to get away. He couldn’t be in love with her. He couldn’t.

  Beth burst through the doors of the hotel and huddled under the front awning, shaking, barely aware of the tears streaming down her face. She curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, as if the pain would make things clearer. It didn’t.

  He was in love with her.

  She had killed his girlfriend.

  He was in love with her.

  She was a murderer.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Beth had known that her time was up. She had to confess everything. But it was too hard.

  She hated herself for her weakness, and for her terror. Was she in love with him too?

  She didn’t allow herself to wonder.

  A tall, too-skinny guy wandered up to her and, though she couldn’t face anyone, she didn’t have the will to turn away. “No one that pretty should be that sad,” he told her.

  Beth took a closer look at his familiar face. It was the guy she’d seen earlier, with Kane. As if the night wasn’t bad enough. “Are you staying here?” Or just following me?

  “Looking for someone,” the guy muttered. “But she’s not here. Lucky I found you.”

  “Can you just leave me alone?” Beth wasn’t even sure she meant it. At least talking to him was helping to drive Reed’s words out of her mind. I love you. How could she believe that when she hated herself so much? Who could ever love her, once they knew what she really was?

  “Whatever. But first.” He reached into his pocked and pulled out a lumpy, misshapen joint. “Pigs got everything else, but this one’s special. Guaranteed to brighten your night. My treat.”

  Common sense would tell her not to accept drugs from strangers—especially strangers who associated with Kane. But common sense had gone to sleep for the night, and Beth needed something to get her through the next minute, and the one after that. She reached for the joint. The guy handed it to her, then, as she turned to go, he grabbed her other hand, squeezing tight. “Not so fast. I’m not done with you.”

  Whatever he was about to do, she deserved worse. So she didn’t pull back, didn’t scream, didn’t show a hint of fear. She wasn’t feeling any. She felt dead inside, flat and hopeless. Her mind flashed a danger sign, but her body and her emotions refused to react. Whatever happened, would happen.

  The guy reached into his pocket again, and Beth saw a glint of metal.

  He pulled out a lighter, stuck the joint between her lips, and lit the tip. “Enjoy the night,” he said, already walking away. “Someone should.”

  She drew in deep, gulping down the bitter smoke. And again. A burning cloud filled her lungs, searing her insides, and it almost made her smile. Because she knew that soon the cloudy haze would descend and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore, not for a long while.

  Her muscles went loose as her senses intensified, and the world seemed to get stronger and brighter with every breath. The joint burned out, but the lights and colors around her continued to brighten, until the world seemed to pulse with a rippling energy that drew the earth and sky together into a living creature poised to consume her.

  This was new. And it felt wrong.

  Beth turned to look for Kane’s friend, but he was gone, disappeared into the crowd, and as she turned in a slow circle searching for him, she found she couldn’t stop, and her spinning grew taster and faster until she was whirling wildly, her hands outstretched and her face tipped up to the sky. She stumbled as the ground tilted toward her, then rolled away, and as she flung her arms out for balance, she saw an impossible trail of blue tracing through the air following her movements. Suddenly the colors were everywhere, bursting out of people’s heads like a Crayola explosion, wiggling and swirling through the air until mixing into a thick, heavy, mud-colored fog that pressed down upon her until she fell to the ground under its weight.

  She pressed herself against the wall, crawling, almost slithering, around the corner, out of sight, hiding from whatever was out there, watching, waiting. And in the darkness of the alley, she curled into a tight ball, pressing her legs against her chest and digging her chin into them, trying to think. But her thoughts kept bobbing to the surface and dipping below again, just before she could pluck them away … they were too fast, she was too slow.

  This isn’t pot.

  He loves me.

  I killed her.

  What if they find me?

  What is this?

  What’s happening to me?

  What will happen to me?

  Help …

  That was the right thought, the important one, the one she should turn into words and scream aloud before she got dragged under, but it was so hard to focus, and before she could speak, the idea drifted away.

  So did she.

  chapter

  9

  It was all clear to him now.

  Standing so close to Harper, breathing in her perfume, it had been too hard to think rationally. But a couple hours of wandering the streets had given Adam everything he needed to be certain.

  It was a frightening choice. Sticking to friendship would be the safe move, that much was obvious. But what if Harper was supposed to be the one?

  Not that Adam believed in that cheesy shit. That was for girls, long-distance commercials, and Valentine’s Day. Still, he couldn’t forget how happy he’d been for those few weeks they were together, and how right it had felt to hold her again.

  But on the other hand—and it seemed there was always another hand—coming together had nearly blown them apart for good. He had meant what he’d told her in the hospital, months before: He loved her, he forgave her, but he wasn’t ready to trust her. He couldn’t force himself to forget the lies she’d told and the pain she’d caused. She’d manipulated him and destroyed his relationship with Beth, all to get what she wanted.

  And, despite how easy it was to believe otherwise when looking into her eyes, he suspected she’d be willing to do it all over again.

  Within minutes of leaving her side, he’d known exactly what to do. An hour la
ter, he’d changed his mind, just as sure that he was right. Eventually, he’d gone back to the hotel room—half hoping to run into Kane or Miranda, someone he could ask for advice, even though he knew that no one could help. Not with this. The room had been empty, and he lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to decide what he wanted.

  Was it more important to be happy? Or to protect himself from being miserable?

  It was almost midnight, and he finally knew the answer. He just didn’t know what Harper would do when she heard it.

  He had intended to walk to their rendezvous point—the New York-New York hotel, with its neon and plaster skyline, was less than a mile away. But now it was too late for that. So instead he was forced to wait in front of the hotel for the taxi, shifting his weight back and forth, nervously wondering how the night would end.

  If he hadn’t been looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of things, he might never have heard the noise, a soft, muffled whimpering, like an injured animal. He almost certainly wouldn’t have gone in search of its source. And so he would never have discovered the girl huddled in the alley, dirty blond hair spilling in a thick curtain around her face, her hands wrapped around her knees. She was rocking back and forth, muttering the same phrase over and over again, until the words blended together into a string of nonsense syllables.

  “I did it. I did it. I didit. I didit. IdiditIdiditIdidit …”

  He should have recognized the voice, or the hair, or the way her fingers trembled as they clasped her lower legs and pulled them tighter to her chest. But it wasn’t until he put a hand on her shoulder, leaned down, and asked if she was all right that the girl tilted her head up, just a bit, but just enough, for him to understand.

  “Oh, my God.” Adam staggered backward with the shock. “Beth? What happened? Are you … okay?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer to the first question. The answer to the second was pointlessly obvious.

  “Reed?” she whispered.

  “It’s Adam.” The kernel of terror within him began to blossom.

  She stared up at him and squinted as if she didn’t recognize him. “What’s going on? What are you what am I you need to go. I did it I did it I did it …”