Brutal Precious (Lovely Vicious #3) (16 page)

There’s an awkward silence in the car. Ulfric groans.

“You like pranking people who you think deserve it,” Kieran says. “And you’re thinking of pranking Summers.”

“What kind of outlaw do you peg me for, sir? Look at me! There’s no way I could ever think up something brilliant like rolling dung bombs under office doors or coating toupees with Crisco or putting spiders in desk drawers.”

There’s another silence.

“Or eyedrops. Replaced with pepper spray.”

Livy makes a thoughtful, approving noise. Kieran sighs and pulls into the parking lot of a flashy club with a neon sign that reads
The Back Door
, and we all pile out. Livy grabs Tessa’s arm and skips ahead. Ulfric looks at me like I’m a hungry tiger.

“You are very scary woman,” he says.

“Coming from you, Leif Candecapitateyouwithmyforearmson, that means a lot,” I pat his arm.

He looks appropriately offended. “I have never decapitate any people!”

“You should try it. It’s very relaxing.”

“When you’re done planning rampant murder,” Kieran drawls. “Let’s get some drinks.”

“How could we forget our Viking priorities?” I slap Ulfric on the back. “Booze first, blood second, boobs third.”

“Boobs first, booze second, blood never,” Ulfric corrects.

“Ahhh, don’t be such a stickler, Ulfie. The gods demand revelry! Onward to Valhalla!”

Like all people who’ve had the extreme luck to meet me in this lifetime he looks bewildered, but he follows me anyway into the booming club. We flash the bouncer our IDs, and he looks at Tessa’s a little longer than he needs to, and then he squints at one of my (many) fake IDs.

“Vanessa Gergich?” He asks. “And you’re thirty-three?”

I start to sweat. This is the one downside of twelve fake IDs.

“I’m very healthy?” I offer. “I eat my vegetables. I moisturize. I moisturize
constantly
.”
 
  
 
 

“She’s with me,” Kieran leans in. The bouncer glances between us, then sighs.

“Alright, Kir, but if she fucks up I’m telling the cops it was you.”

Kieran flashes him a smile, and pulls me past the bouncer and towards the bar.

“One rum and coke for the lady,” He yells over the music, then turns to me. “That’s what you like, right? I’ve seen you drink it a bunch.”

“Yessir,” I nod. “But you don’t have to buy me anything, I’m a strong, independent –”

He shoves the chilled glass in my hand and slides a five across the counter to the bartender. I swirl it a bit, checking for dense foam that would indicate a dissolved pill. I mean, I trust the bartender, and Kieran. Sort of. But you can never be too careful. I sip slowly, and we stand like that, watching the writhing masses in short skirts and button-down t-shirts grind on each other. Tessa is dancing with Ulfric, still a little shy but smiling more now. Livy is grinding on some Italian-looking guy four years too old for her. The smell of sweat and cologne practically chokes the air. Strobe lights pierce our eyes and poke holes in our patience for Top 40 music.

“Is this just…” I pause and listen to the speakers. “Is this just someone saying ‘ass’ on repeat?”

Kieran stops, looks up, and starts laughing. “Holy shit, you’re right. What’s happened to music?”

“Money,” I say. “Money happened. But personally, I blame spandex and autotune and Yoko Ono.”

He laughs. Livy detaches her ass from Italian-guy’s crotch long enough to walk over to us, breathless and smiling.

“Hey, you guys. Come over here.”

We follow, curious, as she leads us to the bathroom hallway, covered in graffiti and bits of toilet paper. Livy pulls something out from her bra. She presses one into Kieran’s hand, then mine. It’s a small white pill shaped like a playboy bunny.

Kieran quirks an eyebrow. “Where’d you get these?”

“Heather, duh.” Livy huffs. “She was practically handing them out like candy at the house.”

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask.

“Molly?” Livy asks.

“
Illegal
?” I stress.

“Chill,” Livy rolls her eyes. “It’s just one tab. It’s not gonna kill you. And Heather always buys from a reliable guy, so nothing weird’s in it.”

Kieran pushes it back at her. “I-I can’t. I’m DD tonight.”

“It’s in and out of your system really fast,” She insists. “Like, way less time than booze.”

“Seeing giant red elephant monsters isn’t my idea of a good time.” I glare at it, but Livy smiles and pats me on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s not a hallucinogen. It’s really safe, I promise. I’ve done it a hundred times.”

I stare at the white pill. Nameless’ ugly words rear their head in my head.

‘Someone like that would never want someone like you.’

‘…he put you back in your place.’

“And maybe he just doesn’t want to fuck a ruined girl.’

‘No one else is going to want you.’

‘No one else is going to want you
.’

I put the pill on my tongue and chug the last sip of my coke, drowning the words in their tracks. Kieran swallows his, too. I head to the dancefloor and wait to die. Or have a good time. Whichever comes first. Kieran shadows behind me, dancing with me, and even if he’s a little stiff in the legs and too white-guyish in the sense all he does is rock a little on his feet, I still catch myself smiling. Life’s been shitty, but dancing has always been good to me, for me. I can just drift, and think about nothing and everything with the music keeping the darkness at bay.
   

I didn’t know Heather bought drugs. I didn’t know she supplied them to frat parties, either. On the ladder of Bad Things To Do, that’s nearly drug-dealer level status. Or is it? I don’t know shit about drugs, and even less about the people who deal them. I just know a lot of people take them, and more power to those people, but they’re dangerous. Then again, I’ve been drinking nearly every day since that night at the centaur fountain, so who am I to judge? Who am I to get angry? I’m drinking away the pain, and that hasn’t been working. So I have to try something else. No danger is as bad as the things waiting for me in my own memories.

The bright strobe lights get brighter, more colorful, greens turning into red-blue, two colors at once. I blink, but the colors keep fracturing. They flash off girl’s makeup and jewelry, spots of gemstone color burning pleasantly onto my eyelids. Everyone looks so happy, so nice, so kind. No one will hurt me, here. I’m surrounded by good people. The darkness can’t get me, here.

Kieran smiles when I smile at him, and that’s a good sign, and he’s much more handsome than I thought before – sort of swarthy, pirate swarthy,
Jack
Sparrow swarthy (
we don’t speak that name
), dark and big-shouldered and he could protect me from the darkness, couldn’t he?
 
Someone as strong as him could fight off anything, protect me from anything. I tried to protect myself for all this time but it was so hard. I’m so tired of doing it all alone. It would be nice to have some help. Kieran could help. Jack didn’t want to help anymore, which is okay, because I’m hard, and not really worth all that effort, even if he was the only one who touched me in the good way where my heart peeked out of its shell, but it was stupid, I was so stupid for thinking -
 
  
 

‘No one else is going to want you.’

I wince, and lurch for Kieran, hugging him around the waist. He stops dancing.

“Isis?” He shouts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m…I’m not okay,” I laugh. “I’m not. I’m just not.”

“Hey, whoa, okay. Let’s get you some air.”

I hang on to Kieran’s arm as he guides me through the crowd and out to the front of the club. I shoot a look at the bouncer as we pass.

“I’m not thirty-three,” I blurt.

“I know,” he rolls his eyes.
 

Kieran eases me onto the steps. I shiver when my eyes catch on the lit-tip cigarette ends of a smoking circle of people. Kieran sees it and moves us away from the circle, further down the curb. I gasp for air, choking on nothing and everything at the same time. Kieran waits patiently, staring at the star-studded sky. When the pressure is a little less and the world isn’t so bright, I form words.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You should go…back in and have fun. This is not fun. This is me dying.”

“You’re not dying,” He laughs.

“Yeah I am. A little faster than most people.”

Kieran’s face is blank, but Sophia’s words ring in my head, a welcome relief from Nameless. Where his sound is the bark of a mad dog tearing my throat out, she’s all crystal bells and raindrops.

No wonder Jack loved her.

No wonder Jack broke when he lost her.

No wonder he doesn’t want anyone else ever again. No one else can compare.
 

I laugh, but the laugh turns into something weird and I start biting my arm to make it stop. Kieran pulls my arm away from my mouth, and I see the ring of darker red on my shirt sleeve but only faintly.

“You’re really freaking me out, Isis.” He says softly.

“I freak a lot of people out. I’m freaky. Halloweentown loves me. But nobody else does. Except my Mom. My mom’s great and I left her behind and I’m selfish.”

Kieran is silent. I feel the darkness start ebbing away, the streetlights bright and swollen like giant amber fireflies.

“There’s a guy,” I say, and laugh. “But that’s the story with every girl, isn’t it? There’s always a guy. Some guy. Some guy who hasn’t done something. And I like him.”
 

“If you like him, just go up and kiss him,” Kieran says.

“You do not know how things work very well, do you.”

Kieran laughs, and I clutch my head and lean on his shoulder. The night is too dark and he is too warm and I need someone, something solid beneath me. Someone to keep me from disappearing into the shadow-half of my life. Or maybe it’s too late. Maybe I’ve already disappeared, and the darkness will be here always with only brief flashes of light, instead of the other way around.

“Do you like me?” I ask Kieran. It’s forward but I’m nothing if not forward and stupid.

Kieran coughs. “Well…uh…”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” He says. “I do.”

‘No one else is going to want you.’

“Do you want me?” I press my chest into his shoulder like I saw Hemorrhoid do to Jack. Kieran clears his throat.

“Yeah. I mean, ever since we made out, I –”

I lean up and kiss him, and he kisses back with a soft, fierce edge to it. It’s not Jack. It’s never Jack, but it will never be Jack again, and I don’t want to cry so I kiss harder, and longer, and Kieran’s hand slithers up my shirt and I let it –

“You!”

I look up to see Charlie Moriyama pointing accusingly at me. And behind him is the one person I really didn’t need to see tonight, or ever again.

***

“How do you listen to this crap?” Charlie snarls, turning my opera music off.

“I take it you aren’t a fan of fat Italian men singing their hearts out over a woman?”

Charlie runs a hand through his spiked hair, re-arranging it. “If I wanted to listen to assholes complain about bitches, I’d listen to Biggie Smalls. Or Nas.”

“Ah, yes, because referring to women as ‘bitches’ will get you very far with them in life,” I say, and take a left turn at the stoplight.

“I don’t care about bitches, okay? They’re all whiny, and they want your money and they want you to dress nice and pick them up ice cream and fat rings and I’m done with it. Just gonna focus on hustling for my mansion, and then I’ll buy me some bitches.”

“You won’t buy bitches, or a mansion. You’ll buy a house for your grandmother.”

Charlie shoots me a sharp look, going red on the edges. “What kind of stupid shit is coming out of your mouth now? I swear you get dumber every day.”

I park in front of a seedy club called
The Back Door
. I can hardly bring myself to lash out at him with my usual ice. He’s so pathetic, so soft on the inside and trying so hard on the outside.

He reminds me of someone.

“Well,” I muster. “Hopefully you’re getting smarter, because one of us has to be coherent enough to interrogate the club’s owner.”

Charlie just grumbles, pulling a pair of brass knuckles on under his sleeve. I set my phone to record at the push of a button, in order to get hard evidence on tape.

“The owner will be reluctant to talk,” I say. “His name is Terrance.”

“I don’t give a shit what his name is, let’s just beat the hell out of him.”

“No one beats anything,” I make my words steel, permafrost. “Terrance is a businessman. He’s easily persuaded in a number of logical ways I’d be more than happy to enlighten you with.”

Charlie groans. “I don’t
care
. Let’s just do this. You can chat his ass up all you want, but if we ain’t getting anywhere with that, I’m moving to plan B - Beatdown.”