Alphas (8 page)

The sun set abruptly and darkness filled the banquet hall as though a dimmer switch had been lowered. The constellations brightened,
casting a silver glow over the girls while celestial music swirled around them with spellbinding proficiency. Sadie instantly
darted back to the Tyra table.

Shira appeared in the center of the stage in a black column dress and sunglasses, auburn hair blowing, dress completely still.
Beneath her feet was a floating golden hoverdisc, levitating her a full foot off the ground.

A collective gasp echoed off the glass walls.

“G’day.” Shira’s down-under accent lilted through the expansive room. “Welcome to the first day of the
best
of your lives.”

The alphas applauded, ignoring frantic
quiet down
gestures from their muses.

“You are here because you are special,” Shira continued, her disc floating from one side of the round stage to the other.
Her black dress swirled around her ankles. “Each of you has the ability to be the top in your field and to advance the female
genome for future generations. To do anything less with your gift would be a slap in the face to the Almighty She who created
you. And a slap to her is a slap to me. Because I am here to finish her work and make you everything She wanted you to be.”

Applause erupted. It sounded like a rainstorm.

“The Greeks gathered the best architects of their time and created something that had never existed before: a high society
with a new standard of excellence. Their islands were modeled to honor the original alpha, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war,”
Shira declared. “
This
island is modeled to honor you, the modern-day alphas, goddesses of wisdom and
more
.”

Skye’s attention drifted toward a corkscrew-shaped glass staircase behind the stage. It led to a balcony with a single table
overlooking the entire hall. It was a table for six, just like the others. But something set it apart. Maybe because its occupants
weren’t dressed in metallics. Maybe because they were talking amongst themselves instead of listening to Shira. Maybe because
they were…

“Ohmuhgud,
guy spy
!” Skye whisper-shout-nudged Allie J.

Allie J gasped. Triple and Renee turned their heads subtly. Charlie’s gaze remained fixed on Shira like a compass pointing
straight to “loser.”

Skye squinted and counted not one, not two, not three, but
five
gorgeous Brazille boys. Skye’s heart grand jetéd
,
and she shared a knowing glance with her fellow alphas. Her days of feeling male
-
nourished were over. Guy spy with my little eye something that is hot! she typed in her aPod and sent the message to her housemates.

The Billionaire Brazille Boys, as they had been dubbed by
Us Weekly
, were international heartthrobs. Darwin was the cute, artsy one. Taz was a serial kisser, jumping from one girl’s lips to
the next. His twin Dingo was a notorious prankster. Melbourne was the chiseled, model-worthy hawttie. And high-IQ Sydney hid
his beauty behind a pair of geek-chic glasses.

Most of the brothers wore their navy blazers with crisp white button-downs, dark jeans, and gray Converse sneakers. Taz had
cut his jacket into a vest and slipped it over a wrinkled black T-shirt and ripped jeans. It was hard to tell from across
the hall, but it looked like he was wearing black flip-flops. Skye rubbed a loving hand over her dance sleeves. He seemed
like the kind of guy who would appreciate them.

Shira was still talking about her expectations when Skye’s aPod hummed.

Renee:
They’re checking us out!

Triple Threat:
Who cares? They look young. I like older boys.

Allie J:
In bed!

Skye:
Watch this.

Putting her telepathic
look at me
vibe out into the universe, Skye made extreme eye contact with Taz. A smile instantly played at the corners of his oh-so-kissable
lips. She credited dance for teaching her the art of speaking without saying a word. Like preparing for a lift with a partner,
Skye wanted him to know she was ready whenever he was.

Allie J:
He’s looking right at you!

She tossed her hair as if trying to steal the attention. But Taz’s gaze remained fixed on Skye.

Skye:
I have eye contact.

Renee:
Well, I have a-contact.

Renee flashed her aPod. Gold conversation bubbles filled her screen. She and Taz had already exchanged hellos.

Allie J:
How’dja do that?

She inched her chair closer to Renee’s.

Renee:
Season 9, when Rayne Storm was after Cora’s killer (b4 she realized she killed Cora herself during a drinking binge) she
got a job developing software so she could keep an eye on Gavin, suspect #1. Long story short, I took a six-week training
course at DeVry to prepare.

Triple Threat:
I did nine weeks at a Texas slaughterhouse for my walk-on in
The Butcher Block
.

Skye grabbed a napkin, dipped her fork in tomato puree, and wrote:

HAD No. 3: Crush Renee and Triple like a chestnuts in a nutcracker.
She hid the napkin down the back of her skirt. If her mother’s ballet shoe was worth its salt, their careers would peak on
Celebrity Apprentice
.

Renee:
Not sure how that helps us get the boys but thanks for sharing.

Allie J:
R, write something else.

Renee wiggled her fingers, as if preparing them for the scene.

Renee:
Jackie O says yo!

Allie J:
In bed!

They snickered into their palms.

On the balcony the boys were huddled over Taz’s aPod like it was the latest
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit issue.

Onstage, Shira cleared her throat. “And now, a word about my sons.”

The boys straightened instantly. The alphas cheered and whistled like rowdy inmates. An icy breeze blew through the hall,
distracting them into silence.

“Allow me to draw upon the myth of Icarus.” Shira paused, allowing time for her words to circulate. “Daedalus fashioned wings
out of wax and feathers to help his son Icarus escape prison. Before taking off, Daedalus warned his boy not to fly too close
to the sun. Overcome by the rush of flying, Icarus soared through the sky curiously, but in the process he ignored his father’s
instructions and came too close to the sun, which melted the wax and loosened the feathers. Icarus kept flapping his wings
but soon realized that he was only flapping his bare arms. And soon, he plunged into the sea and drowned.” Shira cast her
sunglassed eyes over the crowd.

“Zzzzzzzz,” Skye fake-snored. “Why is she telling us about wax and feathers?”

“She’s telling us the Greek myth about temptation,” theater-geeked Renee.

“She’s telling us not to get too confident,” quipped Triple.

“She’s telling us not to eat birds,” Allie J tried.

“She’s telling us not to date her sons,” Charlie snapped.

Skye’s skin prickled with doom. Or were her crush cells scrambling to find a new home?

Shira looked sternly out over the crowd. “Males are distractions and can change the course of a girl’s life in an instant.
So from this moment on, my boys are one hundred percent off-limits.”

All the air was sucked out of the room as Skye joined ninety-eight alphas—for some reason Charlie remained mute—in a group
gasp. No Brazille boys? It was like visiting Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and not being able to taste anything.

“My sons will take classes with you. But all other interaction is forbidden. No texting, no flirting, no studying. Those who
disobey will find themselves falling much farther than Icarus.”

A few girls giggled nervously, unsure whether Shira was joking about that last part.

“Told ya,” Charlie whisper-smirked.

Renee’s picked up her aPod and shook it.

Renee:
It’s not working. Firewalled.

Triple Threat:
Crush blocked.

“But follow my rules and you will soar. Literally.” Shira grinned at the muses, who were still onstage. “Every girl who displays
exceptional alpha’tude will get flying lessons, and eventually, the keys to her own Personal Alpha Plane.”

Everyone whooped and hollered. Skye typed.

Skye:
Charlie, you’re good with tech, right? Break through my firewall thingy.

She sent the text and then handed Charlie her aPod.

Charlie shook her head no.

“I want to tell them to stop contacting us,” Skye insisted.

“Oh.” Charlie smiled peacefully. Her face was pretty the way water was tasty. It got the job done but lacked pizzazz. All
of her features were exactly where they should be. Her medium brown hair Pantened to her waist, and her body was slim and
well proportioned. But something was missing. Probably nothing Visine and a smile couldn’t fix.

After some impressive thumbnastics, Charlie returned the aPod. Skye winked her appreciation, then began texting Taz.

Skye:
Icarus should have flown at night. No sun!!! C U soon.

Taz didn’t text back. He didn’t need to. His smile said it all.

The girls’ aPod flashlights ricocheted through the dark like an unintentional laser show. Allie had no clue where they were
going but was certain her bare feet would be torn to ribbons once they arrived. Still, running felt good. At least some part
of her was moving forward.

Heavy breathing and the occasional nervous giggle were the only sounds they made until they cleared the alpha houses. Charlie
had refused to join them, claiming she didn’t want to break the rules on the first night. Now Allie, Skye, Renee, and Triple
were sprinting through the dark night. Sleep seemed to have claimed everyone else on the island—even the light of the moon.

“Let’s stop,” Renee panted, finding cover under the canopy of an acacia tree.

“Not here,” Allie J whisper-insisted. “We’re still too close.”

Skye scanned the perimeter, her turquoise eyes darting back and forth. “Why do you think Charlie didn’t want to come?” Skye
pulled her fingers, cracking the knuckles.

“She probably already knows that the BBBs have zero interest in her,” Renee said, as she dashed from the cover of one Joshua
tree to another. “Besides, she was sound asleep when we left.”

“Maybe she was faking? You’re not the only one who can act, you know,” Triple snapped.

“Actually”—Renee rolled up the sleeves of her glistening silver nightshirt—“I am.”

“Let’s just keep going before someone hears us.” Allie shifted from one foot to the other to keep the ground germs from sticking.

“According to this, the boys live south of here, where the circle thingy connects to the bottom of the
a
.” Renee announced, studying the @-shaped map on her aPod.

“How do you know fur-sure?” Skye cracked another knuckle.

“Because it flashes ‘off-limits’ every time I try to get directions.”

“Shhhhhhhh,” Allie hissed, fearing the worst—an office-scolding from Shira. At that kind of proximity, she’d definitely realize
Allie’s mole was kohl. Her cover would be blown and she’d be sent to jail for identity fraud. Fletcher and Trina would become
famous as the people who’d driven her to this life of deception. And they’d sell their love story to Lifetime for millions
of—

“If you’re so worried about getting caught, you should have stayed behind,” Renee barked.

“In bed!” Triple added, mocking Allie’s favorite joke.

“I need some inspiration. And danger gives me that, okay? It’s part of my process,” Allie managed, leaving out the part about
replacing her old crush with a new one so she could have a shot at happiness. “Besides, taking a chance on romance is a dance
in tight pants. It’s risky but frisky. But make the right move and you’re in the groove.” She smiled, relieved that she remembered
the lyrics to Allie J’s song “Skintight” under such extreme pressure.

“I say we follow the bubble train route.” Renee held her aPod to the ground, using the screen’s blue glow to guide them.

A tropical breeze launched the sweet smell of gardenias, reminding Allie of the time Fletcher had sample-sprayed Hawaiian
Blossom in Sephora. He’d said that one day, when they were older, they’d travel to the South Pacific and smell that scent
in person. Sadly, that dream had evaporated faster than the tiny perfume drops.

“Change of plans,” Skye announced. “We’re going to the beach.”

“Shira just got home,” Renee announced even louder.

“How do you know?” Triple asked.

“You think you’re the only one Taz texts?” Renee jiggled her aPod in front of Skye’s full lips. “I got the message too.”

Skye shot Allie a
can you believe how annoying she is?
glare. Allie replied with a
whaddaya gonna do?
shrug.

“They told Shira they’re going to look for their brother Darwin.” Renee thumbed the aPod screen. “Apparently he’s depressed.”

“Who isn’t?” Allie mumbled into the darkness.

“They lit a bonfire. We have to look for the—”

“Smoke!” Triple pointed toward the northern tip of the island.

“Let’s go.” Renee took off, leaving the others no choice but to follow.

Shoeless, running along a dirt path in nothing but a silver nightgown and several coats of Burt’s Bees balm, Allie felt more
like an escaped mental patient than a seductress. She nibbled anxiously on her bottom lip. It tasted like wax, honey, and
insanity.

They finally arrived at the beach. The pink sand felt cold, almost mentholated, offering much-needed relief to Allie’s scraped,
potentially diseased feet.

“There they are!” Skye air-applauded the distant smoldering fire.

“Let’s go!” Renee slid off her silver ballet flats and charged forward.