Divine Vices (27 page)

Golden
hues burned through the family room as the flames smoldered inside the
fireplace. Jack kicked back on the loveseat of the three-piece sectional sofa
we had wrapped across the room.

“You
want anything?” I asked, pointing back to the kitchen as I came over with
another candle in hand. “Something to eat or drink?”

“Nah,
I just want you to take a load off,” he said, patting the sofa beside him.
“Join me.”

I
set the candle down on the coffee table with a glass coaster underneath it to
catch the melting wax that began puddling at the tip of the wick and parked a
seat at the wedge in the corner of the sectional.

“Thank
you.”

“No
problem.”

“You
know, you don’t have to stay. If you want to get back to the party, or your own
house, I get it,” I said, pulling off my heels.

The
truth was I didn’t know what to expect being alone with him.

He
smiled. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“No.”

“Well,
even if that was the case, I’m afraid you’d still be stuck with me for at least
a little while. The storm seems to be moving through fairly fast, but it’s not
exactly driving conditions out there yet,” he said. “And the truth is, it’s
nice to have some company this time of night. I’ve gotten so used to going home
to an empty house.”

“It’s
rather hard to believe that you really spend
every
night alone,” I
remarked lightly.

“You
know, I thought you of all people would be a bit more hesitant to buy into gossip.”

“I’ve
seen enough for myself, thank you.”

“You
mean my display on the football field?”

“Sans
shirt? Yeah.”

“What
makes you think that little presentation wasn’t meant just for you?”

I
smirked. “Please, guys like you feed off affections like it’s your own life
source.”

“There’s
a big difference between a serial seducer and a mere Charlatan.”

“Aaahhh,
so you’re just a tease,” I laughed.

“Well,
it takes one to know one.”

My
phone began vibrating, and I immediately snatched it out of my clutch to check the
number. I deflated upon seeing Gwen’s number with a text message that read:
“WHERE
R U?”

“JACK
GAVE ME A RIDE HOME,”
I answered.

“WHAT?!”

I
put the down phone away without further reply.

“Meyer?”
asked Jack.

I
nodded.

“She
doesn’t like me much, does she?” he chuckled.

“You
blame her after everything you’ve said?”

“I’m
surprised there wasn’t more backlash, actually.”

“For
the things you said in the locker room?”

“For
starters. You can’t really say I was wrong though. I’ve seen her with Jeff. And
Joe. And Ethan. And whoever else. She has a rather unhealthy infatuation with
the opposite sex,” he chuckled. “Like a hummingbird that just can’t make up its
mind with what flower it wants.”

I
tossed a throw pillow at him laughingly. “You know, she wasn’t always like
this. When I met her, she was dating a senior. Kevin Sanders. I guess they had
been together for about a year or so, and she was... in all honesty, normal.
You could tell she loved him, but she wasn’t nearly as-”

“Neurotic?”

“Well…
yeah, actually,” I admitted. “That’s back when she and Stacy were best
friends.”

Jack
burst out laughing. “What?!”

“Yep,
you heard me right.”

“Oh,
I can only imagine where this is going,” said Jack, still chuckling at the
revelation.

“Yeah,
well, jealousy clearly got the better of Stacy, but the thing that Gwen can’t
seem to understand about what happened is that it wasn’t anything to do with
Kevin. It was just because Stacy saw how happy Gwen was, without needing her.
So when the time for Prom came around the corner, Stacy started doing
everything she could to sink her claws into Kevin. Things got really ugly, and
eventually they just got stupid. The night before the dance, Gwen drove past
Stacy’s house on her way home, only to see Kevin’s car in her driveway. She
parked down the street and headed over to Stacy’s place on foot, finding Stacy
and Kevin kissing in his car.”

“Ouch...
and how did that go down?”

“Gwen
was Gwen. She surprised the two of them by literally pulling Stacy out of the
passenger seat, by her hair,” I said as Jack cringed at the thought. “Then when
Kevin tried to explain that she came onto him, yada yada yada, Gwen gave him a
solid shiner. Decked him right in the eye. Needless to say, she’s been trying
to find someone more worthwhile since, but what starts as a promising beginning
of flirtatious banter soon turns to suspicion or pure letdown. Then she moves
onto someone new without remorse or time wasted.”

“And
she criticizes me?” he laughed.

“She
sees you as a threat.”

“To
you?”

“To
women.”

“What
do you see me as?”

“Trouble,”
I replied, “but on what level to perceive you as depends solely on the
individual and how close she wants to get to you.”

“Meaning?”

“Well,
it’s not the shark’s fault if you get bitten, because you were foolish enough
to try and pet it. People in general think that they can play with danger and
not reap the consequences of their actions, but I know better that distance is
key with any Casanova, pretend or otherwise.”

“So
I’m nothing but trouble, eh?”

“Perhaps
a bit misunderstood as well.”

“What
makes you say that?”

“By
the things that Rachel and so many others have said about you...”

He
winced before I even finished.

“...
They were wrong. I know a thing or two about masquerading as something you’re
not and not having the people around you see you for what you really are deep
down.”

He
looked at me pleasantly. “How so?”

“I
didn’t always dress like this.”

“Like
Little Red Riding Hood?” he joked.

“Like
I just left a rock concert,” I corrected smilingly. “I always liked dressing a
little edgier, but my mom was constantly pushing me to look more like my
sister, cardigan sweaters and all. Time though ran its course, and with my
dad’s approval, I started wearing what I wished. Bought a sewing machine. Did
some vintage redesigning of my clothes. My closet eventually filled up with
ripped jeans, concert tees, and spiked leather... everything.”

“You
certainly are your father’s daughter.”

“That’s
precisely what my mother thought, but not in a good way.”

“Well,
I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“You’d
have me any way,” I joked, rising from my seat. I went over to the fireplace
and used the iron poker to adjust the wood inside, feeling Jack’s presence
coming up behind me.

“So
you still find me insufferable?” he asked as I placed the poker back into the holder.

“You’re
not so bad. Rough around the edges a tad, but not utterly unbearable,” I
replied, turning to him.

His
mouth tipped as he came in a little closer. “Would it be totally cliché right
now if I kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

“All
right.” He suddenly pulled away with a whimsical grin before I grabbed his arm
and brought him back in. The spacing between his wet locks revealed enough skin
on his forehead for me to see a long, dark, misshapen scarred line sloping down
the whole right side to his temple. To my surprise, he didn’t retract when he
saw me taking notice to it. I brushed all the hair from his face, seeing the
scar in its entirety with the warm glow of the fire behind me.

“It’s
from glass,” he said. “When my head smashed against the passenger side window
in the accident, a large shard got lodged in my forehead.”

There
was something about him in that moment. Something so tangible, broken, and
long-standing.

“So,
what am I, if not unbearable?” Jack asked, leaning closer into me.

“A
beautiful disaster.”

Ever
so gently, he brought his lips to mine, and I returned the action. No
fireworks. No supernatural electrical pulses binding us together for eternity.
Just the warmth and comfort of a tenderness I never thought he was capable of
possessing. I hadn’t kissed someone else in nearly four years, and that was the
only other time that I ever had, but nothing about Jack left me feeling
inexperienced. It felt as natural as breathing.

I
combed my fingers through the ends of his hair, and he slowly stepped forward
until my back was resting against the brick siding of the fireplace. As his
embrace around my hips tightened, the harder his kiss became. And that’s when
every nerve in my body ignited. Jack’s hands trailed down my sides to my
thighs, and I instinctively lifted my legs to wrap them around his waist as he
picked me up so that our heights were matched.

His
lips descended to my chin, then to my neck, and I had to fight off the impulse
to moan. Just as my nails began to dig into his back, the electricity sparked
back on, and with that, a light bulb from a nearby lamp burst.

Despite
my sudden re-frazzled state, Jack didn’t look too concerned by the occurrence.
He simply returned his attention to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,
my nerves are still shot is all,” I finally said with a weak chuckle.

“You
want me to go?”

“No.”

He
kissed my lips again, and comfort washed over me once more.

Then
a floorboard in an upstairs bedroom creaked, which wasn’t uncommon given the
houses age, but then the one beside it creaked as well. And another. And
another.

Jack
and I remained stock-still in place with the exception of him moving his mouth
closer to my ear.

“I
thought you said your dad wasn’t home,” he whispered.

“He’s
not.”

Footsteps
became audible as the sounds of the creaking floorboards moved their way into
the upstairs hall.

“Listen
to me carefully,” whispered Jack, reaching into his pocket to hand me the keys
to the Impala. “Get to my car, and call the police.”

“What
are you gonna do?” I asked softly as he released his hold on me to grab the
fireplace poker.

“Just
stay behind me,” he said, slowing creeping toward the mouth of the family room
and into the kitchen.

I
huddled as closely to him as I could as we inched our way past the landing to
the staircase.

Suddenly,
we both froze at the sight of a baleful figure looming over us from the top of
the steps with a large blade in hand.

“Go!”
Jack commanded, pushing me over to the side door.

I
bolted over to it and unlatched the lock, twisting the knob with no luck. For
the life of me, the door itself wouldn’t budge.

“Go!”
Jack yelled again, still standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“It
won’t open!”

“Front!”

Just
as I raced past him again to head to the foyer, I heard a thunderous crash
develop behind me. I whirled back around to see Jack pinned to the floor by the
hooded assailant. Jack struggled to prevent the knife the stranger wielded over
him from sinking into his chest as he wrestled to regain possession of the
poker beside him with his other hand.

“Cassie,
get out of here!”

I
couldn’t. I grabbed my grandmother’s old Tiffany lamp from off the table in the
entrance hall and brandished its heavy iron stand firmly in my hands. Racing
back into the kitchen, I clocked the intruder in the side of the head as hard
as I could, the glass of the lampshade shattering into a thousand pieces upon
impact.

The
attacker slumped sideways, giving Jack the chance to push his weight off to
free himself.

“Go!”
he said, rising to his feet.

I
ran back to the foyer, but heard something smash. I turned to see Jack crumpled
on his knees as fragments of a Scotch glass exploded across the kitchen floor.
He clutched the side of his head as the assailant somehow rose up from behind
him, standing over Jack as if ready to deliver his execution. Watching the attacker
drive his hunting knife downward, I nearly yelped before Jack suddenly hammered
his elbow back with sharp accuracy right into the stranger’s kneecap. Just as
the figure staggered and dropped the knife, Jack reached under the bar stand
and sprang up, pelting him in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn’t wait to
see the reaction. I whirled back around and raced to the front, unlocking the
deadbolts and unchaining the door. I ripped the main door open, but as hard as
I tried to get through the storm door, it was stuck.

Looking
through the window, I came to realize again that the door was jammed.