Bloodlust (8 page)

Jason followed them, confused. Brad hadn’t seemed eager to hang with Adam at all, but now he was acting like they were old friends. What was the deal?

“S
orry, Danielle. I’m with your mom on this one,” Jason’s father said at dinner the next night. “A yacht, alcohol, and no way to get someone to come pick you up if there’s trouble…”

“It’s a bad idea,” Mrs. Freeman finished for him. “I’m surprised this girl’s parents are even allowing her to have a party on their boat.”

“Yacht,” Jason corrected automatically. Nobody in Malibu said “boat” unless they were talking about a really old, huge car. And Belle’s party was definitely taking place on a yacht. He’d heard enough about it at school today to be absolutely sure of that, along with the exact length of the yacht and how many separate cabins it had.

“But Jason will be there,” Dani pleaded, eyes darting hopefully from one parent to the other. “And Belle is completely responsible.”

Jason couldn’t agree with his sister on that one. Belle was sweet and very cute. But, responsible? Hell, no. Inviting a guy to body-shot her in front of her insanely jealous boyfriend—that was pretty much the anti of responsible.

“When we’ve gotten to know some of these kids personally—,” Jason’s mom began.

“Fine. Pick a night. I’ll invite them all over for charades and square dancing and Hi-C fruit punch. Or is that still too racy for you?” Dani demanded sarcastically. She stood up, grabbed her plate, dropped the silverware on top with a clatter, and headed into the kitchen.

Jason glanced at his watch. The Dani–Mom-with-

By the time Saturday rolled around, Danielle still hadn’t made another play to get herself on the yacht. She didn’t even shoot their mom a my-life-is-hell-

Not that he regretted finding himself on the aft deck of the
Moulin Rouge
with no little sister to watch over. He leaned on the rail and took in the sight of Surfrider Beach turning golden in the sunset, the sand and the high bluffs behind it practically glowing in the evening light. Surfers riding the waves seemed to skim over swells of molten gold, and when Jason looked up at the sky, his breath caught in his throat; the sun looked huge, a pulsing orange orb that appeared to be sinking directly into the ocean a few miles away. Jason almost expected steam to rise when the fiery circle hit the water.

Orangey-pink light glinted off the dark wood decks of the yacht, a sixty-foot-long vintage Chris-Craft Commander in pristine condition. Between the sunset, the cool ocean breeze, and the gleaming chrome and wood of the yacht, he felt as if he’d stepped into some kind of fantasy world.

“Kissabull?” a laughing voice demanded behind him. Jason turned and saw Belle balancing a tray of drinks in one hand. She was barefoot and wore a bikini top with one of those skirts that is basically a piece of cloth and a knot. Plus, the little diamond glittered next to her belly button, and silver rings shone on a couple of her toes.

“Aren’t I, though?” Jason asked, not sure what she meant.

“Wait. No. For you, a Malibull. Cause you’re new to Malibu. Ever had one?” Belle asked as she selected a pale green drink from the tray and handed it to him.

“This will be my first,” Jason admitted, suspecting he hadn’t been missing much.

“It’s MIDORI, pineapple juice, and Red Bull,” Belle told him. “If you don’t like it, the Kissabull has Grape Pucker and the Bullionaire has gin, o.j. and cranberry juice.”

“Practically a sports drink, then!” Jason said with a grin. He took a sip of the drink, a weak, sweet concoction, with only the tiniest bit of a kick. It tasted exactly like something he’d expect Belle to serve. He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“I live to serve. But only the first round. Then the crew takes over.” Belle moved on with her tray.

A moment later, Harberts took her place in front of Jason. He shook his head when he saw the drink in Jason’s hand. “If you’re trying to get a buzz, I should inform you that that thing is only a few steps above nonalcoholic beer.” He shook his glass. “Vodka tonic. Now
this
is a drink.”

Jason grabbed Harberts’ beverage and took a pull.

“Hey!” Harberts protested.

Jason grinned. “I’m doing you a favor.” He handed Harberts the Malibull. “You’ll thank me at practice on Monday. Don’t want a repeat of last week.”

“Aaron, I’ve been looking for you.” A tall girl in a shortie wet suit sauntered over to them. “You said you’d snorkel with me.”

“I thought you meant the kind of snorkeling we did at Brad’s party,” Harberts joked.

The girl gave him a playful slap on the arm. “I’m Maggie, by the way,” she told Jason as she twisted her long, golden-brown hair into a bun at the back of her head. “Since Aaron’s too rude to introduce us.”

Harberts rolled his eyes. “Maggie’s on the girls’ relay team. A medley swimmer like us,” he said. He ran his hand down the form-fitting neoprene that fit Maggie like a snake’s skin.

“I should have known you’re a swimmer,” Maggie said. Her hazel eyes meandered over Jason’s body. “You’ve got the build for it. You want to be my snorkeling buddy if Aaron isn’t—”

“Aaron is,” Harberts interrupted. “And Jason has plans of his own.”

Jason took the hint and wandered to the other side of the deck. This yacht left plenty of room for wandering. He spotted Luke Archer standing by himself, as usual, and staring into the foamy white wake. “Hey,” Jason greeted him. “I didn’t expect to see the mysterious school loner at a party. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you away from our lunch table.”

Luke’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Sometimes I like to do the lonely-in-a-crowd variation. Just to mix things up.”

“First time I’ve seen you without a book in your hands, too,” Jason commented, leaning on the rail next to him.

Luke pulled a novel out of his back pocket. Jason took that as another hint.

“All right, then. I’ll let you get to it,” he said, and headed down the stairs and into a lounge with a wide-screen TV and a killer sound system. Guster bongoed away out of multiple speakers, and he noticed Adam standing in the entrance to the hallway across the room, filming as always.

Jason finished off his vodka and tonic as he wove through the crowd and over to his friend. He followed the angle of Adam’s camera and found himself looking into one of the cabins. More specifically, at the bed. Even more specifically, at Carrie Smith sprawled on top of some guy, on the bed. Her hands were wrapped in said guy’s longish blond hair, and her mouth was suctioned onto his.

Uh-oh,
Jason thought.

“This is not the movie you want to make,” he told Adam, grabbing him by the back of the shirt and pulling him out of the hall. “What would Wes Anderson think? Or were there some pornos on his credit list that you forgot to tell me about?”

Adam lowered the camera. “Scott Challon.
Happy Gilmore
is probably his favorite movie, and she’s in there….” His voice trailed off and he just stood there, looking crushed.

Jason decided a change of subject—and locale—was necessary. “I heard there’s a hot tub on the fore-deck. Let’s go check it out.” He nudged Adam back into the lounge. “And by
it,
I mean the girls in it. Carrie’s hot and film-literate, granted, but don’t tell me she’s the only one for you. There’s no such thing,” he said, immediately thinking of Sienna.

“Scott Challon,” Adam said again, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

Jason gently pulled the camera out of Adam’s hand and stowed it behind a chair. He snagged a couple of drinks from a passing waiter in some faux naval uniform, handed one to Adam, and held his own up in a toast. “To moving on and meeting new girls,” he said firmly. “Drink up.”

Adam reluctantly clinked glasses with him, then drained his drink in one long swallow. “That’s disgusting,” he commented, wiping his mouth.

“I’ll say,” Jason agreed, finishing his own drink. “But hopefully effective. Let’s go.” He led the way back to the stairs.

Two girls were coming down as they started up. Two girls who looked very much like his sister and Kristy.

“Hi!” Danielle said brightly.

Jason groaned. He’d been hoping he was wrong about Dani’s secret plans for the night. “I knew you were going to pull something like this,” Jason said, and sighed. “How dumb are Mom and Dad not to guess where you are tonight?”

Dani’s eyes sparkled. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

“They think she’s sleeping over at my place,” Kristy explained.

“Shhh,”
Dani told Jason, putting a finger to her lips.

“You’d better watch yourself if you expect me to
‘shhh,’ ”
Jason said, nodding toward the two drinks in her hands.

“Don’t worry. The rum is for my new friend Caleb. Mine’s just plain o.j.” Dani crossed her heart, without sloshing either drink, as she and Kristy slipped past Jason and Adam.

Jason shook his head. “You know this Caleb?” he asked Adam, sliding into big brother mode.

“Senior. Basketball player. Hangs with Zach Lafrenière, when Zach deigns to attend school. Hasn’t spent time with my father, the chief of police, if that’s what you’re asking,” Adam replied with a grin.

“No record. I guess that’s something,” Jason said, and laughed. He stepped out onto the deck and followed the sounds of laughing and splashing to the hot tub.

He stopped in surprise when he reached it: a huge hot tub filled with people drinking, laughing, making out. Well, really only one couple was making out, but that was the only one that mattered. Brad Moreau was facing Jason. And he had in his arms a girl with long black hair and honey-tanned skin, kissing Brad like she was drowning and he was oxygen.

Jason’s face flushed and his muscles tensed. He couldn’t get in the tub. He couldn’t sit two feet away from Brad and Sienna making out. He’d done his best to forget Sienna’s kiss after he’d driven her home from the last party, and to remember that she and Brad were together. But that didn’t mean he wanted a front-row seat for their groping.

Brad moved his lips from Sienna’s mouth to her shoulder, turning her head a little in the bubbling water, and revealing not Sienna’s face, but the face of Lauren Gissinger, a girl in Jason’s physics class.

Not Sienna. Relief spun through Jason’s body. It wasn’t Sienna making out with Brad.

Then he realized exactly what he was seeing.
Not Sienna.
Jason’s relief quickly turned to shock, then bewilderment. Brad was cheating on Sienna.

J
ason’s mind was a jumble of emotions. Confusion—Brad didn’t seem like the kind of guy to cheat so openly. Anger—on Sienna’s behalf. And frustration on his own—here he was trying so hard to keep away from Sienna because she was Brad’s girlfriend, and Brad didn’t even care enough to be faithful. What kind of an idiot cheated on a girl like Sienna?

Then Jason told himself that maybe Brad had had a bit too much to drink, and maybe, since he was supposed to be a friend, he should go and attempt to save Brad from himself—before Sienna happened upon the spectacle in the hot tub.

Reluctantly he strode over to the hot tub and tapped Brad on the shoulder. “Hey, Brad. Are you sure you know what you’re doing, man? Sienna’s definitely at this party somewhere,” he warned.

Brad looked up, startled. “Er, yeah, it’s okay. I know what I’m doing,” he said in a slightly bemused kind of way.

Jason shrugged. “Well, it’s your funeral,” he said. He figured there wasn’t anything more he could do.

Lauren stood up, droplets of water sliding down her body. “Maybe I should, um, go somewhere else,” she offered. But she looked kind of spaced out, as if she wasn’t really sure what was going on.

Brad gently pulled her down onto his lap. “You’re fine, right where you are,” he told her. His eyes met Jason’s. “But
you
might want to go someplace else,” he said pointedly.

Jason abruptly got up to go.

“And, hey—don’t worry, dude!” Brad called after him. A grin broke across his face. “Sienna’s just as bad. It’s all cool.” He twisted Lauren’s long, dark hair around his hand and used it to pull her face closer to his. Then he turned away from Jason and kissed her.

“Let’s go,” Adam said as Jason came back to join him.

Jason nodded briefly, and they turned and walked away. “Bet you wish you’d had your camera on for that special moment,” he muttered to Adam as they circled round to the aft deck.

“No. Not dramatic enough,” Adam joked as they approached the bar. “Wait!” he exclaimed suddenly. “They’ve got better stuff downstairs. Let’s go there instead!” He veered in front of Jason, but it was too late: Jason had already seen.

Sienna and Kyle, the diver from the swim team, were sitting on one of the leather couches near the bar, performing a little show of their own. And it was definitely Sienna, this time—Jason had a great view of her as she lifted her body to move onto Kyle’s lap, pulling him closer. Jason couldn’t look away as Kyle slid his hands down over her ass while she traced the shape of his top lip with her finger.

“Jason!” The sound of Adam’s voice broke the spell. Jason blinked, then headed directly to the bar. The confusion and frustration he’d felt with Brad had turned to ice in his veins. He didn’t know whether to be mad at himself for trying to defend Sienna, or mad at
her
for totally not deserving it.

“I think there’s a poker game going on in the master stateroom. We should check it out,” Adam said, talking at warp speed. “These rich boys need to be relieved of some cash.” He mock winced. “Oops, sorry, I keep forgetting you’re a rich boy too. You haven’t acquired the vibe. You should work on that. You can start by observing the others of your kind during the game.”