Candlemoth: A Holy City Romance (4 page)

The mansion, his easy command.  The way he knew exactly where everything was inside that huge house...

The mansion was his.  Duh.

The Calhouns practically owned the entire town.  They were old money, rice and indigo money.

And the way Ryland had flirted with me, when he had a girlfriend all along- and they seemed practically
engaged
?  So not only was he one of
them
, he was a shitty person, too. 

What was wrong with me that I’d fallen for him, and so quickly?

I pretended not to care.  But Beren, who I was beginning to think was a mind-reader, sidled over.  “You okay, boo?” he said, sweetly.

“Hey, I thought you were going to sneak off with Mr. Gymnast,” I said.

Beren tipped his head back and forth with a smug grin.  “Oh, we
did
…slam, bam, tip your waiter on the way out.”

I tried to laugh.

“You didn’t know who he was, did you?” he said, gently.  “You didn’t know he was a Calhoun?”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re kidding me.  You’re totally not fine.  Come here.”

“I feel like an idiot,” I said.  “Did I look stupid?”

“No, honey, you never look stupid.  You looked
awesome
, which is why he has shown positively
zero
interest in little Miss Gold Digger all night.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, their families have been friends for ever, practically betrothed those two at birth, but while Madison is
head over heels
with him… and coincidentally his scads of money, too- ‘cause rumor has it her family’s hurting since the recession-”

I interrupted him.  “How do you know all this stuff?”

“It’s the jungle drums of Charleston, boo.  The way gossip flies in this time, the truth travels practically by osmosis.  Charleston is a small town, really.  And the richer you are, the smaller it is.”  Beren made a pinching motion with his fingers, indicating how small.  “So don’t worry your pretty head about the Calhouns.  Whatever they think, whatever they do, it doesn’t matter.  It’s got nothing to do with us.  Separate stratospheres.”

“No, you’re right.  Thanks, boo,” I said, and Beren beamed to see me using his word.

“All right, so you good?  Let’s finish this,” he said.

For a few hours more the party raged.  One of the guests ordered pizzas, which we thought might piss off Chef, but it turned out that he’d already left.  So we just went around pouring drinks and taking away glasses.  It was cake, which unfortunately left my mind free to brood on Ry.  It was shameful the way he’d been able to take control of me so quickly.  And I’d let him, that was the worst part, I’d always thought I was so much stronger than the boy-crazy girls you saw at parties, throwing themselves after the guys.

But I was no different after all.  

The warmth of the day was finally starting to wear on me.  My skin felt prickly and hot. I wanted to let my hair down and put my feet up.  I couldn’t wait to go home, take an ice-cold shower, and… 

But I could still feel Ry staring at me wherever I went.

The look in his eyes was hungry, inescapable.  It transformed his whole face.  When Ry stared at me like that, there was nothing about him that looked like a gilded prepster anymore. 

He looked like a hunter.  Like a warrior.

All I could think of was how much I wanted him to pounce on me, trap me with his hard body.  Right here in front of everyone.

I wanted him to punish me for wanting him so much.  I wanted his hips hungry against mine, I wanted the stain of his kisses...

This was crazy.

I stayed out of the light as much as I could so that he couldn’t see the flames racing into my face.  I was embarrassed to have him know what an effect he had on me...

Beren kept close by. 

“You know, at first I thought you knew who he was,” Beren said. “And then, when I realized you had no idea… and he was being so sweet with you… I don’t know, usually when you see him around town it’s with like, he’s doing the playboy thing.  Bimbos and limos, you know.”

“What?”
I said.

“He really seemed different with you, though!”

“Beren!” I said.

“And I thought I’d throw my girl a fuck, you know?”  Beren said.

“I don’t want anyone throwing fucks at me! I like- things- the way that they are.  And I definitely don’t want anything to do with…” I trailed off. 

Ry hung out with strippers?  The idea stung more than Beren could imagine.  I wondered what it said about me, if I was drawn to bad men.  Because my mom obviously was.  Maybe it was a genetic thing...

All my life, I’d been all too aware of where I came from.  Sometimes I had a feeling like my past itself was a thing.  Watching me, waiting for me to screw up so it could pull me down.  It was like a curse with hands.

I shook my hair out of my face, smiling for Beren. 
Come on, pull yourself together. 

“So what are you doing later, you want to hang out, watch a movie?” I said, a little too brightly.

“Mos def,” Beren said, squeezing my hand.  He understood.  “Let’s order pizza and eat way too much.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

The band played their last number.  The well-dressed crowd on the lawn was smaller now, just the most dedicated partiers.  You could see limousines idling out on the curb, waiting to take everybody home.  After the song was over, suddenly everybody seemed to be talking at once.  Finally, the last of the party began to filter away. 

I saw Ry at the edge of my vision.  He was flushed, a little sweaty, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his dark, sexy forearms.  He’d taken off his jacket, and the vest he wore showed off the attractive taper of his muscular waist.  I pretended to fuss with a folding chair, but when I turned there was no avoiding looking at him. 

He drew me like a magnet.  

But I let my eyes drift coldly over his face.  I watched Ry’s expression change like a mood ring.  His eyes looked perplexed, and then heated.  Finally they filled with something that looked a lot like sadness.

Then he was swallowed by a crowd.  “Come on man, let’s go to Starz!” 

As the group disappeared through the gates towards the waiting limos, I thought I recognized Madison’s icy blonde hair closing in towards Ry, slipping her arm into his. 

I looked away. 

Hazel and Beren and I rode our bikes back to my place.  While I made popcorn and spiked our seltzers with a little dash of bitters, Beren kicked his feet up and scrolled through Netflix, complaining that he’d already seen everything. 

Hazel grinned down at her phone.  She caught me watching her curiously and gave me a sheepish grin.  “I think I’m gonna go...” she said, still grinning.

“Who the hell are you texting?” Beren said, throwing a pillow at her.  “No! We are having a damn slumber party, you can’t-” 

She danced over to him and put her finger to Beren’s lips, shushing him, and then she skipped out the door.  “See you guys tomorrow!”

By the time Beren and I had agreed to just watch Jackie Brown for the 10th time- “When the
fuck
is Tarantino going to make another movie!”- Beren passed out on the sofa. 

I couldn’t focus on the screen.

Try as I might, I still couldn’t make my body forget about Ry.  It was like I’d finally found my perfect poison.  Now every nerve in my body was singing for more.  I wanted him so much that when I jolted awake, I was afraid I’d been calling out his name, like someone in a fever dream.

              I blinked around sleepily.  It was a moment before I realized it was my phone that had woken me up.  

Hazel’s number.  4:38 in the morning.  But it was an unfamiliar man’s voice that was on the other end of the line.  “Excuse me, is this Lily?” he said.  His voice was jarringly crisp and precise. 

The screen saver on my TV batted back and forth like a trapped moth as I sat forwards, my heart in my throat.  What was wrong? 

“Yes,” I said.

“Your friend’s been hurt.  You need to come get her right away.”

======= 
C
hapter
2:
========================================

              “I’m sorry, Hazel’s hurt?” I said.  “Have you called an ambulance?”

              “You need to come get her.  Now,” the man said, and then quickly rattled off his address.  Everything about this was strange.  Hazel, what had you done?   

              “Okay, fine- just call an ambulance, okay!  We’re on the way right now.”

“-otherwise,” the man continued, as if I hadn’t spoken at all, “we might have a problem.” 

He hung up. 

My blood went cold. 

“Beren, Beren, wake up!  Something’s happened to Hazel-” I said.

“Boo, the world don’t happen to Hazel.  Hazel happen to the world.”  Beren flopped over, pressing his face into the cushion.

“Wake up!  You are coming with, I don’t know what I’m going to find!”

Outside the streets glittered with dew.  Lights were already on in the bakery next door, and the homey scent of baking bread floated to us as we ran hurriedly to my battered old Corolla.  My engine sounded ridiculously loud in the quiet. 

“Oh no, don’t fail me now-”  

I squealed out into the street and we raced towards the address the man had given me. 

Phone lines ran between the palm trees, ruling the sky as if it were a sheet of wild-flower blue notebook paper.  Everything was eerily beautiful.

“Annnd that’s a stop light!” Beren said, bracing himself.  “Oh, okay,” he said, turning to me as I floored it through the silent intersection.   “I see.  For you, red means go?”  Beren covered his face with his hands.  “I’m going to die in dirty briefs.” 

We heard Hazel’s screams even before we arrived at the address. 

Beren laughed drily as we pulled up to the curb.  Hazel, now dressed in just her open work shirt and a pair of panties, was throwing a hysterical fit on the lawn. 

All the lights were off in the innocent looking house that stood behind her, but even in the dark we could see the wreckage she’d already wrought.  The BMW parked in the driveway was scarred with key marks, and the word LIAR had been deeply scored under the driver’s side window.  The two big flowerpots by the front door had been upended, and clods of dirt thrown at the windows and door. 

And Hazel was screaming incoherently.

“Hazel!” I said.

She looked stunned when she saw us.  She ran to my car, almost dove in through the window.  “He’s married!” she cried. 

As if we knew what she was talking about.

Beren rolled his eyes.  “Boo, what’d we decide about married men?”

              “They’re sneaky fucking
liars
,” Hazel said.  Her breath was sour with champagne.

              “Just get in the car, babe.  It’s time to go…”

              I saw the front door of the house crack open, and then a man’s arm flung something small and black out onto the lawn behind her. 

The door was still cracked open when I jumped out and ran to grab Hazel’s phone for her. 

“Thanks a lot, you chicken shit,” I hissed towards the man I knew was listening to us behind his door.  But he only closed the door again, silently, like a turtle drawing its legs stubbornly up into its shell. 

I got back into my car and glanced back at Hazel.  Beren had already checked out.  His eyes were closed, his seat was reclined back as far as it would go. 

“Is this guy Bowtie-and-Glasses from the wedding?  He didn’t look particularly married,” I said to her.  “Why do you think-”

“Because I looked in his wallet!” Hazel said.

              “Ah, dammit.  Girl, I don’t get why you can’t pull back a little, you just knew the guy for like forty seconds, right?  How much can it hurt?” Beren said, still not bothering to open his eyes.

              “It was more than that,” Hazel said mistily.  “We’ve been talking…” She tilted her head to one side, resting it against the window.  Then, mercifully, the tension began to melt out of her face.  She fell asleep like a kid after a throwing a tantrum on a too-long road trip.

              “Thank god,” Beren said, wryly.  “But she can’t sleep at my place.  I have a date tomorrow.”

              “But this is today.  And your place is closer.”

              “Uh, honey, you haven’t experienced this before,” Beren said.   

“This has happened before?!” I said.

              “When Hazel Forsythe passes out at your house, she stays there alllll weekend.  Uh-uh.  Not this time.  No can do, sorry.  Now make sure you turn her onto her side, okay?  Kiss kiss..”

              “Fuck, Beren!” I groaned.