Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (33 page)

The last call had
been about a week ago. It started off about
Dark
Flag
and his magazine interview. Then Owen had asked me about classes. We
had talked for over two hours about me leaving UCLA.

"Come to
Vegas and we'll chat more," he had said.

Well,
I thought,
I’m back in Vegas
. This
conversation was just going to be far different than anything I had dreamed.

CHAPTER
TWO

Owen

I
had to park two streets over. Once the car was off, I could not force myself to
open the door. Hundreds of people were going to Sienna's funeral. They walked
past my car in their expensive black dresses and hand-tailored suits. It took
all I had not to start the car and drive away.

Sienna hated my
car. It was the same old, black Porsche I had bought from my father's mechanic
when I turned sixteen. The seats were cracked, the exterior paint so worn it
had lost its shine, and the dozens of dings marred the body. Still, the engine
purred when it started. And, it pissed off both Sienna and my father. I loved
that car.

Sienna wanted
everything to be perfect. If it worked but did not look good, then it would
never be good enough for her. On the flip side, she was willing to put up with
broken things that were beautiful. That was the reason I could not get out of
the car.

Her family made me
uncomfortable. Sienna's mother was always way up or way down. One day, I saw
her with her face streaked with tears and smeared make-up. A few hours after
that, she was beaming as she belted out "Sweet Caroline" at the local
bakery.
 

Mr. Thomas was
worse. He was a high-powered lawyer who never turned off his killer instinct
for arguments. I once told him I was looking forward to the nice weather over
the weekend. He looked up three forecasts and the farmer's almanac to prove me
wrong. Sienna had just rolled her eyes at me and canceled my idea for a picnic.

Still, they were a
beautiful family with a beautiful house in beautiful Summerlin and Sienna loved
them. I could not imagine facing them without her.

What if they knew
what had happened?

I stopped again at
the foot of the driveway. It was a safe bet Sienna's family would not care if I
did not make an appearance. Her father would probably prefer it. I was about to
turn around when I saw Quinn.

She was carrying a
huge spray of flowers towards the back entrance. Despite her removal from the
front door crowd, a couple still stopped her to express their condolences. As
she sank under the weight of the flowers, they unloaded their guilt at being
more fortunate than her and her family. I could have punched the man for
dabbing at his appropriately wet eyes instead of taking the heavy vase from
her.

As much as I
wanted to turn around and never see these people again, I could not leave. If
Quinn was handling it, so could I.

I strode up and
took the flowers from her without a word.

"That's the
boyfriend," the man's wife whispered as I headed for the back entrance.

I pulled open the
door and held it for Quinn. When I looked back to see if she was coming, I felt
as if everyone from the driveway was staring at me. Somehow, they all knew what
I had done. They knew it was my fault. Sienna was dead, they needed someone to
blame, and I was the guy.

"Thank
you," Quinn said. She led the way in the back door and to the formal
dining room. The long table was covered in tasteful flower arrangements.

The scent of
lilies made me sick, but we were the only ones in the room. I would have stayed
amongst that sickly sweet stench all night if it was just the two of us.
"Quinn, I'm so sorry."

She waved a
delicate hand. "We said all of that on the phone. I'm just glad you're
here." She gave me a quick hug and retreated into the full front parlor.

I took a deep breath
and followed her into the crowd. Quinn slipped like a stranger through the
people gathered there. She was right there in the family portrait on the wall,
but all anyone could ever see was Sienna. Even when she was gone, she stole the
limelight.

"Is there
anything else I can help with?" I asked.

Quinn blinked up
at me with her chocolate brown eyes. She glanced around to make sure I was
speaking to her. "Not really. Not now."

"Have you
gone in to view the body?" I asked. It was a shit question, but I could
not take it back.

Quinn shook her
head, so I held out my arm. Her cheeks blushed as she looked nervously from
side to side. Sienna's little sister was clearly not used to being noticed.
"Don't worry. They're staring at me. If I'm not falling apart just right
or keeping it together well enough, they'll dock my score," I said.

She pulled her
lips in to stop a smile. "Or they're thinking how nasty I am putting the
moves on my sister's boyfriend." Her cheeks burned brighter.

"They don't
know how long we've known each other. They don't know I've seen
Pretty Pony
sheets on your bed," I
said.

"They don't
know that you made me pick out Sienna's Valentine’s gifts every year since you
two started dating."

"I gave you
boxes of chocolates every year," I reminded her.

"M&Ms
wrapped in Post-It Notes."

"With pass
codes and Easter Eggs."

"My
favorite," she admitted.

We stopped in the
viewing line. I knew I should let go of her, but I kept her arm tucked tightly
against me. She leaned on my arm in the crush of people and did not try to pull
it free.

"Speaking of
Easter Eggs," I said, "remember that time Sienna got mad at me for
dying eggs wrong?"

"You mixed
the colors until it was dark brown and told her you were making rabbit
turds," Quinn said. She chewed her lip to hide another smile.

"She kicked
us both out of the kitchen for laughing. We ended up eating jelly beans and
playing
Vice City
until one in the
morning."

Quinn gave a
ragged sigh. "Sienna dyed the most perfect Easter Eggs. She blew the yokes
out and everything. I always tried to save the prettiest until the next year.
Until she pointed out I could just take pictures. I think I still have some
stashed away."

"What?
Pictures of eggs?"

Quinn shook her
head and said nothing. Only Quinn would carefully preserve something as
delicate as a hollow egg. To her, they were treasures to be saved. I loved how
she treasured things. Sienna always treated everything like a prototype to be
tossed away in the hopes the next one would be better.

"Owen, we're
so glad you came. Have you signed the guestbook yet?" Mr. Thomas asked. He
took my elbow and guided me out of line.

Quinn slipped her
arm out and opened her mouth to stop her father.

He shook his head
at her. "It would mean so much to us if you'd put down a few words about Sienna.
You knew her so well."

Once we were out
of Quinn's hearing, he hissed in my ear. "Nice of you to come, but you're
upsetting my wife. Sign the guestbook and go."

Mr. Thomas dropped
my arm and went to greet better guests. I rubbed my elbow and realized he had
shoved me towards the door. There was no guestbook that I could see.

Instead, there
were large collages of Sienna. Her photogenic life had been carefully curated
and mounted to best highlight her successes. Other guests gushed over the
beauty and the achievements, but I could not see it.

A proud picture of
her with a glistening show horse and a trophy looked perfect. I cringed as I
remembered Sienna telling me how she hated her first horse. She lied and told
the trainer it had bitten her so she could ride a better one. The trainer had
taken her at her word and sold the horse to a trail ride farm up north.

Her prize science
fair display looked like the perfection of a curious and intelligent mind. To
me, it signified being stood up two times in one week. Then, Sienna had accused
me of trying to sabotage her work by guilting her.

Then, there was
the bake sale photograph and accompanying newspaper article. I knew Quinn had
baked those cookies. Hours after the fundraiser was over, Sienna refused to get
out of her bed. She was so depressed at being outdone by someone else that she
did not speak to Quinn for days.

Not only had Quinn
let her older sister take the credit, she had spent days trying to lift Sienna
out of her selfish funk. I had one foot out of the door but stopped. The least
I could do was stay and make sure Quinn was alright.

She was standing
off to the side in her own living room. Her mother and father had given her
seat away to a prominent neighbor. I was partially disgusted by her parents'
heartlessness. The other part was delighted that she was within reach.

"This seat
taken?" I asked.

Quinn shifted
along the wall and almost smiled. It faded as the hired priest moved to stand
in front of the fireplace. The packed room grew quiet.

"A great
light amongst us has gone out. And we may feel as empty and cold as this unlit
fireplace," the priest gestured behind him awkwardly, "but together
we will stay warm."

It’s
86 degrees out
, I thought.

"Sienna
Thomas was a caring, thoughtful, and ambitious woman. She had her sights set on
becoming a surgeon so she could help those among us that needed to be
healed," the priest said.

Quinn shifted from
one foot to the other. She refused to look at me, but I knew the greeting card
version of Sienna's life bothered her. Within days, her sister had sky-rocketed
into sugar-coated memories and ideal assumptions. Her real sister was fading
away.

"When her
life was tragically struck down by a drunk driver on her college campus, we all
felt a deep and abiding loss," the priest droned on.

Quinn stood up,
her pale face covered in shock. I took her hand and squeezed. If she said
something now, it would only ruin her. Sienna's memory was perfect, unmarred by
the truth. There was no way Quinn could change that without destroying herself.

"It’s not
right," she whispered to me.

"It’s easier
for your parents, for everyone," I told her.

"I was there.
I saw. Nothing's going to make that easier for me, especially not some lie that
blames someone else for her death," Quinn hissed.

I held her hand
harder. She had not given me many details on the phone. I certainly did not
know Quinn had seen Sienna's body before the coroner covered her. My mind
reeled the rest of the service.

I had no idea what
bothered me the most about Quinn seeing Sienna like that. The crowd of mourners
finally moved on through the dining room and into the backyard for
refreshments. I found myself alone with a few stranglers ringed around the edge
of the living room. I walked up to Sienna's open casket.

She looked perfect
– her make-up a little too thick and her lips a little too red, but perfect.

"Hey,
beautiful. Remember how a long time ago you asked me to tell you when you were
behaving rotten? I gotta call you out one last time. You knew someone was going
to find you. Either your roommate or your sister. What an awful thing to put on
someone else. You didn't think of that, did you? You probably had this whole
damned funeral planned down to the photographs and flowers. But you didn't
think for one second what you'd be doing to other people. She saw you, Sienna.
Like that. Makes me glad you're gone. You can't hurt me or Quinn anymore."

I stepped back and
swiped away the angry tears. Across the room, closer than she should have been,
Quinn stared at me wide-eyed. I swallowed hard and hoped she did not hear what
I had said.

#

It
was time to go. I turned
to make a break for the front door only to bump into a wall of former
classmates.

"Weird high
school reunion, huh?" Ben said. He had been the captain of the football
team. The same irritated estimation from our teenage years was in his eyes as
he looked me over. He still could not understand why Sienna chose me over him.

Ben was my height
with buzzed brown hair. His square jaw and cleft chin could have put him in
those mail order sweater catalogs. He'd gone on to college with a football
scholarship and had not changed one bit.

"What are you
up to these days?" he asked. "Is there a market for being too cool
for school?"

His cronies, a
trio of Ben knock-offs at various heights, laughed.

"I heard
you're still hanging out at arcades or something, right?" the first crony
asked.

"Something
like that," I said. I tried to step past them.

"You were
still with Sienna, weren't you?" Ben asked. "That is rough, man, just
rough. You doing okay?"

The actual
sincerity of his statement set me back a step. "I think I'm still in
shock."

"No kidding.
I could have imagined a dozen other people from our graduating class offing
themselves, but not her." Ben scrubbed his cleft chin. "I keep
thinking maybe it’s a joke. Like that time you swapped out the science dummies’
insides with lunch meat. Remember? You used food coloring to make the white
rats have bloody mouths so it looked like they'd turned zombie or
something?"