Something Wicked (7 page)

CHAPTER NINE

"Sorry, Iz," Amanda pushed her glasses up her
nose, tucking the pages she was reading back into the folder. "Grams
signed a binding contract, and since you inherited the house, you get the debt
too."

Since I anticipated as much, I was on my second beer.

"Do you think a tequila shot will take the sting
out?" I yelled over the jukebox playing Creedence Clearwater Revival. One
thing for sure about college kids—no matter what era, they all love their CCR.

"You better slow down. You can't afford a big bar bill
right now," she warned.

"Fuck it, if I'm going out broke, let it be in a blaze
of glory!"

She laughed and we toasted our plastic cups.

"What do you think Finn wants?" Amanda, passing
the manila folder back to me, changed the subject.

I shrugged and shoved it into my book bag. "No clue. He
barely acknowledged me. Just waved me in without even checking my ID. Maybe he
finally unstuck the stick up his ass about carding everyone."

"No dice," Amanda said with an eye roll. "He
had me out side for 10 minutes while I searched for my ID. It was in the damn
glove box of the car. Good thing I found it, too. He wasn't going to let me
in."

"I swear bouncing is the perfect job for him," I
bitched to her over the music. "They are all douche bags."

"Bouncers and loan sharks."

We smashed our plastic cups together again, beer slopped
over the sides.

Amanda met me at Huskies after I finished cleaning up after
the filthy frat boys. Danny smartly avoided being home. It was still early, but
the bar was filling up nicely. Huskies was nothing much, a barely mediocre
restaurant during the day turned bar/dance club at night. It was pretty much on
campus, and catered to college kids. Very few "townies" came in, even
if the Natty Light beers were priced at $2 a plastic cup. Given my financial
straits, that was my beverage of choice tonight.

I licked up the booze dripping down my hand—waste not, want
not, after all—and caught the eye of a familiar looking dude entering the bar.

"Shit," I groaned, ducking low in the booth.

"What?" Amanda asked, doing the total opposite.
She stood up and craned her neck around, searching the bar.

"The Stevenson guy. He's here."

Her eyes widened. "That's the frat-hole that came to
the house?"

I nodded and took a huge swallow of liquid courage.

"What are the chances?" That was a rhetorical
question. "You think he's following you?" That one wasn't.

"I freaking hope not!" I said.

Amanda sat back down but turned to peer over the back of the
booth. He waited for the bartender to take his order. "He's kind of
cute."

"How would you know?" I retorted.

"Oh please, Iz! I know aesthetics, boy or girl. Now be
honest. If he didn't tell you that you owed him 25 large, wouldn't you think
he's cute?"

I pretended to stretch my back to give him a look. Amanda
had a point. Looking casual in jeans and a snug t-shirt, he wasn't terribly
muscular, but lean, like someone who played hoops with his pals on the weekend.
One of those stupid hipster trucker hats covered his short light brown hair.
That automatically made him a creep.

"Okay, cute in a Pike sort of way, I guess" I
said, referencing the fraternity house.

"That's more of a backhanded complement," Amanda
snorted before draining the beer from her cup. "Your turn to buy!"

I dug out my wallet from my bag and checked the cash
situation. Enough for a few more rounds, as long as we stuck to the $2 beers.

My bare legs made a sticky sound as I slid out of the booth,
and I cringed at the sting of vinyl burn on my thighs. Keeping my head low, I
tried to go unnoticed by Danny "Trucker Hat" Stevenson. I held up two
fingers and pushed a five-dollar bill at the bartender. Waiting for him to pour
the beer, I turned and surveyed the crowd.

The semester hadn't really started yet, but the bar was
surprisingly crowded. Every booth was taken—Amanda and I lucked out with the
last one—but there weren't people crowded into the nooks and crannies of the
place just yet. Without the elbow-to-elbow people, Huskies looked kind of sad
and run down. I scraped the edge of my Converse high top along the floor, the
grime embedded into the worn wood.

While I was admiring the filth-crusted floor, Danny must
have noticed me. When I looked up, I nearly hit my head on the brim of his
stupid hat.

"Imagine running into you here, of all places," he
said with a grin that kind of crinkled up the skin around his light blue eyes.

I blinked stupidly for a second. Maybe it was the booze, but
his teeth were blindingly white.

I guess he thought my silence meant that I didn't recognize
him. He yanked off the ridiculous hat. "Don't recognize me? Or are you
still mad about earlier?"

"Yeah, because I am always chummy with frat-holes that
say I own them money." I said flatly, turning my attention to the
bartender who finally returned with two more plastic cups of cheap beer.

"Right now, I'm not a—what did you call me—a frat-hole.
Or a lender of last resort. How about I be just Danny?" he asked, a good
natured grin spreading across his face as he stuck out his hand to shake mine.
I held up the cups to show both my hands were occupied.

"Well, Just Danny, does this mean that I no longer owe
the 25 large?"

The beer was going straight to my head. Did I eat tonight?

"I wish I could get you off the hook," he said.
"But it's a fair, binding contract. Did you have a chance to get a lawyer
to take a look yet?"

He almost sounded genuinely concerned. Almost.

"It just really took me by surprise," I explained,
swaying a little bit. "I mean, one minute I have my nose in a book, and
the next, hello! You owe twenty. Five. Thousand. Dollars. You are like the
opposite of Publishers Clearing House."

"You're very funny."

There he goes, flashing those white teeth again. The
interest from my loan must go straight to his dentist.

"And very cute," he added.

I smiled in spite of myself. He was definitely disarming.

"I should go back to my friend." I nodded my head
towards the booth, where Amanda was shooing away a group of three co-eds and
their token male friend.

"How about me and my buddy Rick join you two?"

Did he just invite himself over to our table?

"Well, uh," I stammered, suddenly feeling neither
terribly funny nor cute. "It's just, maybe, not such a good idea."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, not one those!" I laughed.

He winked at me. "That's a relief."

"We," I pointed between us. "We're
enemies."

He choked on his beer. "Enemies? Or frenemies?"

"Well, I think enemies. I owe you money," I
paused. "I owe you
a lot
of money. And...you're an ass when I clean
the frat house. Maybe we're mortal enemies."

"But I know your name. Isadora," he said, rolling
out the word syllable by syllable. It sounded vaguely pornographic.

"My friends don't call me that," I said.

A look of disappointment flashed over his face.

"How about I buy all the drinks tonight?" he
charmed. "So in a way, your money is actually going towards getting a nice
buzz."

"Okay," I relented. Free drinks were too tempting
when broke. "But we continue being mortal enemies tomorrow."

"Deal," he said, motioning for his friend to
follow us.

I turned and kind of staggered to the booth. I was just in
time. Amanda was cracking her knuckles, like she was about to deck one of the
group trying to usurp our four top.

"About time," Amanda groused when I dropped her
beer on the table. "I almost had to throw down with those idiots."

"Amanda, I'd like you to meet Danny Stevenson, the guy
who wants to take away our house. And this is his friend..."

I plopped into the booth, my blood alcohol level just high
enough to dull the pain of the vinyl burn on the back of my bare thighs as I
moved down to make room.

"Rick," Danny added helpfully before sliding in
next to me. "And I thought we were taking a break from being mortal enemies
tonight."

Amanda pursed her lips. "Clearly I am not as drunk as
you."

"Did you eat dinner?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Did you?"

"I don't think I did," I responded, taking another
swallow of beer.

She snatched a menu. "We'd better get something in you
before the kitchen closes."

I took it out of her hands and shook my head. "Not
enough cash. Maybe we should go?"

"I told you, it's on me," Danny said.

"The beers! There was nothing in our deal that said you
had to feed me."

"It would be an honor to share a table with two
beautiful women, so we are happy to feed you both," he said gallantly.

Amanda snorted and side-eyed Rick, who was sitting next to
her, beaming.

"I'm gay, you know," she said flatly.

Rick only looked more interested. Amanda bit down on the lip
of cup and chewed the plastic, shooting me daggers with her eyes.

"So what do you want to eat? Wings? Nachos?
Fries?" Danny asked, eyeing his own menu.

"Fries, definitely," Amanda chimed in.

"Burgers are good," I added. If Richie Rich was
paying, I wanted something substantial. Too bad steak wasn't on the menu.

"Cool," he looked around for a waitress.

"Better to just put in the order with the
bartender," Amanda offered. "They seem short staffed tonight."

He nodded at Rick and they both got up and headed to place
our order at the bar.

"What is going on?" Amanda hissed. "You think
this is going to get you out of owing that money?"

"No, of course not," I said. "But he's being
nice."

"For a loan shark!"

"Well, what can I say, he's buying me dinner," I
tried to keep my voice low.

"Is that all it takes?"

"He just...well, he actually seems nice. I think he
feels bad about what happened."

"This is like one step away from prostitution, you
know."

"Oh my god, Amanda! I'm not doing this because I think
he'll drop the loan if I sleep with him!" I lowered my voice more.
"Do you think he would?"

She crossed her arms and sat back in the booth. "Is
your pussy worth 25 grand?"

I felt the heat creep up to my face. "Amanda!"

She grinned. "Well, is it?"

I snorted. "Probably not."

"You like him?"

"Not really. I mean, he's a giant tool when I see him
at the frat house. But away from there, he seems nice, funny. Kind of charming.
Even this afternoon, I think he almost felt bad telling me about the
loan."

"Well, we've established that he's easy on the eyes,"
she gave in. "Just tread carefully, okay?"

I nodded. "Of course."

The lights dimmed and the music volume pumped up. It was
late enough that Huskie's transitioned from bar/restaurant to dance club.

Amanda grinned. "The DJ doesn't suck!"

"You know what that means?" I asked. She shook her
head. "We may have to dance!"

Amanda recoiled. "Oh hell no, Izzy!"

"Izzy?" Danny asked, returning from ordering. He
and Rick brought more beers with them. "Is that what your friends call you?

I nodded. "Yes, my friends call me Izzy. Or Iz."

"Can I call you Izzy?"

"I guess," I replied.

"So, then we're friends?" He asked, his grin
sliding back into place.

"Tonight we're friends," I said, my red light
caution flags were waving a little. I mean, Amanda was right. I owe this guy's
family—and by extension, this guy—a hell of a lot of money.

"I'll take that. For now."

The four of us made small talk while we waited for our
burgers to come out. We found out Danny and Rick were going to start the
professional MBA program this semester, which explained why Danny was still
bunking at the frat house. When the burgers and fries finally arrived, we
stuffed ourselves. The guys bought a few more rounds.

While Huskie's transitioned from restaurant to nightclub,
the place filled up. Just as I polished off the last of my fries, Tara walked
in with her entourage of sorority sisters. Her eyes opened wide when she saw
me, and she sauntered over to our table.

"What's up, Danny? Rick? You boys slumming
tonight?" she asked. "At Huskies, I mean."

I guess the faux smile she pasted on was supposed to take
the sting off the insult.

"Hey, Tara. Looking good tonight!" Danny
complemented her. I noted he ignored her slumming comment.

She beamed. "I always look my best when I am out with
my girls. I guess you didn't have time to change after cleaning toilets, huh
Iz?"

I focused on my beer, while Tara, Danny and Greg made small
talk. Amanda's attention was on Melinda, who was leaning over Greg to whisper
in her ear.