Silver (7 page)

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I change clothes three times before I settle on some vintage Calvins and a powder blue button-down shirt that matches my eyes. I am not above taking a pointer from the Parker Winslow makeover guide.

Haley calls and asks if I can give her a ride before I meet Blake at Magic Beans. Truthfully, I could use the distraction. I pull into her driveway and send a text, hoping Haley has her phone back. I wait a few minutes, fidgeting with the car stereo. Haley doesn't respond. I double check my phone, cringing at the thought of actually going to the door.

The Blue Box sputters and coughs as the engine shuts down. I wait another minute before I finally get the courage to go to the front door. I shuffle my feet on the doormat that says
Solicitors will be shot
. In case the message isn't clear enough, there's a giant picture of the barrel of a shotgun next to the words. I check my phone again for a reply. At this rate, I won't have time to drop Haley off at Kimmy's before I have to meet Blake. I ring the bell before I can stop myself.

A high-pitched screech comes from inside the house before footsteps approach and several locks turn. I put my hands at my side and try to project the fact that I am in no way soliciting
.
The door opens about two inches. Mrs. Marvell peers through the crack. “What do you want?”

“I'm here to pick up Haley.” I hesitate, not sure whether she expects me to come in or wait outside. Outside is good.

The door opens just enough for me to get through. Mrs. Marvell stands to the side, a floral house coat hanging on her shoulders like a shapeless sack, the American fundamentalists' version of a burka. Her short blond hair is crimped into tight curls, a perfect complement to her pinched facial features. She never wears makeup, which somehow accentuates her hard lines. “Well, hurry up about it. You're letting all of the warm air out.”

It's seventy-five degrees outside, so I can't imagine that her heater is running, but I don't argue. I take the two steps into the hall as fast I can, allowing her to close the door behind me. The blinds are closed, casting the house in artificial darkness. I feel Mrs. Marvell's stare as I pull off my shoes and turn down the hall. Even without shoes, my steps echo on the hard plastic that covers the floor. It's a miracle Haley ever manages to sneak in past curfew.

Haley opens her bedroom door as soon as I knock, closing it again behind me with a speed that comes from years of practice. I flop on the edge of Haley's twin bed, one of the only pieces of furniture in the house that isn't covered in clear plastic. Makeup is strewn around her dresser and her hair is still wrapped up in a towel. At least she's dressed, opting for low-rise white pants that hug her hips perfectly and a black scoop-neck top.

“I tried to text.”

“I still don't have my phone.” Haley reaches for a tube of mascara and applies it in the big mirror to her left.

“I'm meeting Blake in fifteen minutes.”

Haley grins into the mirror, ignoring my not-so-subtle reminder that she's running late. “Are you excited?”

Before I can respond, Mrs. Marvell's shrill voice carries from the hallway. “Haley! Get out here!” Thank God she doesn't bother to make the short trip to Haley's room.

Haley rolls her eyes and then clicks down the hall. I glance again at my cell, trying to ignore Mrs. Marvell's screaming rant about folding towels into thirds. I don't know how Haley can stand living here. My own mother is a paragon of maternal love in comparison, nettle soup and all.

When Haley returns a few minutes later, a dark look crosses her face. “You should just go.”

There's nothing I want more than to be out of this house. I'm just not sure I want to risk the trip back down the hall alone. “I'll just text Blake and let him know I'm running late.”

“Thanks.” Haley pulls off her towel and deliberately throws it on the floor. She twists her damp hair into a high ponytail that should make her look like a middle-school cheerleader but instead is fashion-model chic. She double checks her appearance in the mirror, adding some lip gloss. “Let's get out of here.”

We hurry down the hall, our steps echoing in the dark. Haley stops in front of the kitchen where her mom stands over a pot at the stove. Mrs. Marvell eyes her. “I hope you're not planning on going out dressed like that.”

“Of course not. I'm actually planning on stripping before I leave the house. Naked is the new black.”

Mrs. Marvell's eyes squeeze closed, the only indication that she's heard Haley's reply. “Those pants make you look like a slut.”

“Excellent! I was hoping to get laid tonight.” Haley walks out of the room before her mom can respond.

I stand frozen in place, not sure what to do.

“What are you looking at?”

I mumble something incoherent and trace Haley's steps outside.

When I reach the car, Haley's smile is wider than normal. “Did you see her face? Priceless!”

I try to smile, but I'm sure it comes off as more of a grimace. I just can't see the humor in Haley's family life. But it's not something I can talk about with her. Haley doesn't mention my universal failure with guys, and I know better than to remind her that her mother is a mean witch.

Blake waits in front of Magic Beans, leaning against a large potted plant with his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. His light hair contrasts nicely with a dark green polo shirt that does nothing to hide the lean muscle that lies beneath.

I'm painfully aware that the blue shirt and jeans ensemble I so carefully picked out seems completely lame next to Haley's crisp black and white outfit. Sure enough, Blake's eyes follow Haley's perfect form as we walk toward him.

“You mind if we drop Haley at Kimmy's?” I ask.

He doesn't look at me. “Do we have to?”

Haley smiles.

I do not smile. I don't even try to fake it. It's all I can do to keep from stalking back to my car and leaving them both to enjoy an evening of watery coffee and stuffed cows. No wonder Mrs. Marvell is such a cruel, bitter woman. It can't be easy to live twenty-four seven with Haley and her slutty white pants.

Blake finally makes eye contact with me. “Are you going to stop hiding from me?” he asks under his breath.

So we're going to play the what's-wrong-with-Brianna game again. I look away, not in the mood to defend myself at the moment.

“Your chariot awaits.” He gestures to the giant SUV a few feet away. Haley has the decency to take the back seat, this being my date and all. Not that it matters. Mr. Schizo and I are hardly destined to fall in love. Not when he can't look at me.

Haley chats on about nothing as we drive, showing off her mastery of the art of small talk. Blake smiles and laughs at the appropriate places, but I've seen this episode of the Haley Marvell show before.

At Kimmy's townhouse, Blake lets the car idle while Haley goes to the door. We sit in silence for a while before Blake leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I'm trying to figure you out.”

Maybe I don't want to be figured out. I have a feeling that we're both better off not knowing. “What am I even doing here?” I say the thought aloud, not caring for once that I have.

He looks genuinely surprised that I'm not falling all over myself and swooning now that he's finally talking to me. “You think I'm crazy, right?” he asks.

“I'm obviously the crazy one for even thinking that this might be a good idea.”

“Don't let that stop you.” He flashes his perfect white teeth in a way that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

Haley opens the door and settles into the back seat. “She already left.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Kimmy. I guess I missed her.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“Not exactly.” Haley leans back against the seat, at last looking like she might be troubled by the fact that her evening is not going as planned. “I can't go home. You saw how my mom was tonight. I have to wait until she falls asleep.”

“Should we wait for a while? Maybe Kimmy just stepped out for a minute?” Even though this date may have been a terrible idea, it's still technically mine. I don't want a chaperone. More to the point, I don't want to end up becoming
the chaperone.

“Is it okay if I just hang out with you guys for a little while?”

There's no way to answer that question truthfully without coming across as a complete bitch. It's not like I can send Haley back into that plastic-covered hell she calls home.

I look at Blake. He can.

“No problem,” he says. “It'll be fun.”

Best. First. Date.
Ever
.

ELE
V
EN

I lean back against the seat and stare out the window. I'm still not sure how Haley managed to invite herself along. She laments the lack of catchy tunes on the latest Rabid Monkey CD while we drive to some place that Blake says has the best steaks in the greater San Diego area. Haley doesn't complain, even though she went vegan six months ago. So much for meat as murder.

Blake doesn't look at me while Haley talks. Not once.

I interrupt Haley's music review. “So, where were you and Kimmy supposed to go tonight? Maybe we can drop you off there?” Or somewhere else. Anywhere, really. I hear Africa's nice. Haley will fit right in with the man-eating lions.

Blake looks straight ahead, pretending to concentrate on the road, but his cheek twitches in an almost-smile. He's probably hoping for a catfight.

“We were supposed to go to a movie or something. I never got all the details.”

Blake finally looks in my direction, his eyes thoughtful, before he turns back to Haley. “You mind if I invite someone to join us?”

“Do whatever you want.” She can't exactly complain under the circumstances. She runs her fingers through her ponytail.

I notice Blake doesn't ask me if I mind. Why should I? I never should have agreed to this. It's so much easier to be ignored when no one's noticed you to begin with.

Blake turns on his phone from a button on the steering wheel, hitting the speed-dial that flashes from the screen in the middle of his dashboard. The ringing that fills the car through the speakers is soon replaced by Austin's soft accent. “Blake, what's the word?”

Of all the people in the world he could invite on our date, it's Austin? I want to strangle Blake and Haley both. I try to gauge Haley's reaction. She stares out the window, her face a mask of indifference. She winds her ponytail tight in her right hand, the only indication that she's even aware of Austin on the other end of the phone.

“You up for a steak dinner?” Blake asks. “I'm buying.”

“It's about time you spent your money on something besides cars and women.”

“Oh, there's women.” Blake glances back to Haley.

“Of course there are.” Teasing laughter fills the car.

“Meet us at Hunter's in ten.” Blake hangs up the phone and looks back at Haley. “I hope that was okay.”

“It's cool.” Haley winds her ponytail tighter and keeps staring out the window.

Wolfgang Hunter's is housed in its own building at the back of a shopping center I've visited a hundred times before without noticing the restaurant. It doesn't have any signs on the outside and the windows are too dark to see the inside. The hostess leads Blake and me toward a small booth in a back corner while Haley disappears to the restroom. Candles on every table cast shadows along the walls. A stuffed hawk glowers at me from a piece of dried wood next to our table. His glass eyes follow me as I slide into the booth.

“That's Pierce.” Blake sits down next to me.

“He has a name?”

“They all do.” He points to a deer head mounted across the room. “Hot Lips. The cougar in front is Klinger.”

“You're making that up.”

“I swear. My godfather owns this place. He names all his kills.”

“Kills? As in he actually killed them?”

“That's generally how it works. It's not like the animals showed up one afternoon and applied for positions as decorative wall hangings.”

“It's just … shouldn't those things be really old or something?” Killing and stuffing wild animals is something people did a hundred years ago. Before Safeway.

“Rush is an avid hunter. He's always adding to the collection.”

I flip the menu open to a section describing multiple cuts of beef. I turn the page as fast as I can. Maybe I'll join Haley with the vegetarian thing tonight.

“So this should be interesting,” Blake says.

I look up from where I've just read the description for Caesar salad three times.

“Austin hasn't talked to Haley since they hooked up,” he adds. “Twenty bucks says he doesn't remember her.”

“You did this on purpose?”

“It was kind of obnoxious of Haley to crash our date.”

Is it bad that for a second I think I might love Blake Williams? I'm a horrible, horrible friend. I compensate by jumping to Haley's defense. “It wasn't her fault.”

Blake shrugs, like it hardly matters either way. He turns his attention to where Austin glides toward us, in a long-sleeved red tee that hugs his chest and arms.

Just as I'm wondering how I ever could have felt comfortable around Austin, he eases into the booth across from me and flashes a friendly smile that makes everything seem okay. “Hey, Juliet.” He looks around the restaurant. “You said women, as in plural?”

“Don't worry. I've got you.” Blake smiles, enjoying his private joke.

Haley struts up to the table, her hair now down and falling in long waves to the middle of her back. Her black shirt is pulled down so that the scoop-neck dips lower across her chest. She turns on her most brilliant smile.

Austin's face lights up. Having Haley show up has to be a bit like hitting the blind date lottery.

“You remember Haley, don't you?” Blake's voice is too innocent. “The girl from your party?”

We all know what Blake is implying. To her credit, Haley's smile doesn't falter, although her cheeks do redden, which makes her face glow attractively.

“How could I forget? You look lovely tonight, by the way.”

Haley smiles. “You look pretty great yourself.” It's exactly the kind of thing I could never say without sounding desperate and pathetic.

“Thanks.” Austin looks right at me. “I was going for the Red Shirt Guy look.”

I feel my cheeks redden. What is Austin doing? He shouldn't be referring to our kiss and looking at me like that. Not when we're both supposed to be here with other people.

I make eye contact with Pierce, the only creature at the table who has it worse than me. A jab on my side forces my attention under the table. Blake pokes me with a rolled-up twenty. I take the money, crumpling it into a tight ball in my fist before pushing it into the front pocket of my jeans. I hadn't realized how much I wanted Blake to be right until he wasn't. The mean, crazy girl inside me is alive and well.

A tall girl with porcelain skin comes by to take our order. I'm definitely going with a small salad, still fairly certain that I won't be able to choke down a meal under the circumstances.

“Blake! Omigod!” the server literally squeals, bouncing up and down like a puppy until Blake stands up and gives her a quick hug. “Does Daddy know you're here?”

“Hey Portia,” Blake says as he sits down, “do me a favor? Don't bother Rush right now, okay?”

Portia pats Blake's shoulder with her palm before pulling out a pad to take our order. She flips her chin so that her smooth chestnut hair falls just in front of her shoulder. She's pretty like a pond full of brown water, beautiful until you look too close. A dark cloud sits just beneath the surface of her gaze as she takes Haley's order.

When her eyes rest on me, the cloud rises all the way to the top, like someone's poked the water with a stick. “What are you?” she asks.

I want to back up. But there's nowhere to go in the booth next to the wall. The words echo in my head. Not who,
what
. “What am I having?”

“Right.” Portia taps her pen on the pad in front of her. “What are you having?”

I fidget under her stare, rattling off my order. She doesn't write it down. It's not until she walks away that I realize what's made me so uncomfortable. Girls tend to treat me in a mostly normal way, but even they don't stare at me. Not like that. I put my hands in my lap and finger my bracelet.

Austin balls up his napkin and tosses it at Blake, hitting him in the chest. “Please tell me you didn't.”

Blake grabs the napkin and throws it back. It just misses Austin's head before making contact with the wall and sliding down to the table. Austin grabs the napkin and stares at Blake, waiting.

“Okay, I didn't.” Blake delivers the line straight, but his knowing grin tells another story. The scientist in me takes in the full implications of this exchange with detached interest. The crazy girl in me wants to strangle them both for even having this conversation in front of me. So Blake hooked up with Portia? Logically, I know his past is littered with girls. It's just not something I want thrown in my face.

I'm the last person they should be having this conversation in front of. I try to give Blake a pass. He doesn't know he's literally playing with fire.

“You're an idiot,” Austin says.

I could think of a few more appropriate words. I bite them back.

Blake finally remembers I'm here. He makes an effort to turn his head in my direction. “It was no big deal. We went out a few times.”

I twist the napkin in my hand into a knot. “It's really none of my business.”

Austin raises an eyebrow at me from across the table, gauging my reaction.

A monster of a man with long black hair stands over our table, his large form casting a shadow across my plate. “Blake,” he says, more command than greeting. Everything about the man is predatory.

“Rushmore,” Blake says.

So this is the sportsman. I'm not completely crazy—the guy is definitely scary. He curls his lips back to smile and I flinch before I can stop myself. “It's good you came,” he says. “It's time you took your responsibilities seriously.”

Blake laughs. “It's Jonah you should worry about.”

Rush ignores the comment and finally looks from Blake to me, Austin, and Haley. I brace myself for his eye contact, but it never comes. He passes me over without so much as a glance, and I let out a breath.

“Enjoy your meal,” he says before turning back to Blake. He lifts in his chin in a curt nod. “There's a new game. On Wednesday night. You'll be there.”

Blake doesn't respond except to glare at Rush.

The two stare each other down for what seems like a full minute, neither willing to look away first. Rush finally breaks the stalemate. “You will learn your place.”

“Family issues?” Austin says as soon as Rush is gone, breaking some of the tension that still fills the room.

“You could say that. Rush sets up my poker games. It's no big deal. The last couple of games conflicted with my schedule. Makes him crabby.”

Austin straightens the balled-up napkin and sets it in his lap. “I don't know why you bother. The guy is a complete freak show.”

I nod in agreement with the last part.

“I think he's kind of hot.” Haley watches the hall where Rush disappeared. “What? I mean, for an old guy. If you're into the whole power thing.”

My eyes meet Austin's across the table, and we both laugh at the same time.

Throughout the meal, Blake, Austin, and Haley chat easily while I stare at my plate, pushing cherry tomatoes in circles with my fork. Haley finishes her eggplant something-or-other, not bothered in the least that Austin is eating prime rib, while Blake enjoys a bloody-looking venison steak that may or may not have been one of Rushmore's recent kills. Hot Lips' glass eyes commiserate with me from across the room.

My attention is diverted by a shrill laugh. A couple of teenagers drink shots at a table just below Hot Lips, even though it's obvious they aren't old enough to drink. The girl's platinum-blond hair hangs down to her waist, much of it obscuring her face. The guy licks salt off her hand. I recognize his smarmy smile. “Isn't that Jonah Timken?”

Austin's face hardens to granite. “What's he doing with her?”

“Looks like tequila shots,” Blake says.

“Don't joke about this. You know he's a bloody bastard.” Austin gestures for Haley to slide over so he can get out of the booth. He strides to Jonah's table, his body tense.

The blonde looks up as he approaches. Parker Winslow eases her lips into a smile that's worth every penny spent on orthodontists and teeth-whitening products.

Blake laughs. “Looks like we're going to get a show after all.”

“Who's that?” Haley asks.

“That's Parker, the girl I told you about.”

“She's pretty.”

Parker does look good. I've never seen her with her hair down, and the length in combination with the color is all kinds of fabulous. She giggles at something Jonah says to Austin. Jonah looks back at Parker and winks, sending Parker into fits of laughter.

Austin stalks back to our table. “I have to go before I hurt someone.”

Haley blinks up at him. “Do you mind taking me home? I don't have a car.” Or a license, but that's beside the point. Haley doesn't know how to do anything that requires lessons. Her mother probably wouldn't have let her go to school if she'd cared enough to bother with home schooling.

Austin looks down at Haley like he's surprised to see her there. “Fine. I'll meet you outside.” He storms out of the restaurant without a goodbye, only glancing at the table where Parker and Jonah still giggle.

“I guess I'll see you guys later.” Haley stands up and shakes out her hair. She tucks her shirt further into her white pants, drawing stares from most of the men in the restaurant. She stops and watches the table where Jonah and Parker each suck on a lime. When they feel her gaze and look up, she lowers her eyelashes, flips her hair back, and strides through the restaurant like a runway model.

Parker crinkles her nose like she smells something bad, creating unattractive lines on her forehead. A date with a needle and some botox can't be far behind.

Blake slides out of the booth and takes the seat across from me. “Alone at last.”

“So what's the deal with Parker and Austin?” I ask.