Gluttony (9 page)

“Ladies
love
cool Kane.” Harper shook with laughter, and soon Adam joined in. “Seriously? LL-Cool K? I mean,
seriously
?”

Adam shrugged and gave a gee-whiz smile. “What can I say? The ladies love me.”

Something about the line stopped her cold, and her smile faded away. “We should get going,” she said, already feeling the distance beginning to grow between them. “We don’t have all day.”

“Wait.” He reached for her arm, but pulled back just as his fingers grazed her skin. “Wait,” he said again. “Let’s at least stay for the show.”

As he spoke, a loud rumbling began, deep inside the volcano, which looked even faker now that Harper had seen the switches, dials, and the guy who made it run. But it couldn’t hurt to stay for just a few minutes and see what the big deal was.

They inched closer to the front of the crowd, stealing a spot on the guardrail at the edge of the fountain pool, and waited. Soon the volcano began bubbling and burbling, and then a huge plume of flame burst out of the top, followed by a geyser of red water, arcing out of the crater mouth and out toward the crowd.

Harper leaped back. Adam, too slow on the uptake, merely stared slack-jawed at the sky as a wall of bloodred water crashed down on him.

Another burst of flame, a puff of smoke, and the eruption had ended. Adam rubbed the water out of his eyes and began wringing out his sopping T-shirt. “That was …” He looked down at himself, soaked to the skin. “… unexpected.”

Harper felt another surge of giggles rippling through her. It felt good to laugh again. “I don’t know why you didn’t see it coming,” she sputtered. “You said it yourself, LL-Cool Kane. Lava Loves Cool Kane!”

“Very funny,” Adam growled. “You know what’s even funnier?” He lunged toward her and gave himself a mighty shake. Water flew everywhere.

“Watch it!” she cried, twisting away.

“I think you mean, watch
out
.” He chuckled, and lunged toward her again, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her against his soaking body. She struggled playfully for a moment, but these were arms that regularly shot fifty free throws a day. They didn’t give. “Thanks for helping me dry off,” he teased, rubbing his wet arms up and down her back.

“Thanks for ruining my outfit,” she complained, but she stopped struggling. He didn’t understand how hard it was for her, having him so near, touching her,
holding
her, and knowing that he didn’t mean it, didn’t want her.

Knowing that he didn’t think she was worthy of him—and that he was right.

The moment she let down her guard and let him in, just a little, waves of pain came along for the ride.

Let go of me,
she thought, but couldn’t force herself to say, even though it would be for her own good.

Adam held on tight.

Reed slammed his hand down on the guitar strings in disgust. “Fish, you’re still coming in a beat too late after the bridge!”

Fish snorted and pointed at Hale. “If this dude would actually follow my cues, I wouldn’t have to—”

“If you picked up the tempo and—”

“At least I’m not playing in the wrong key,” Fish shot back.

“At least I’m
playing
—a monkey could bang sticks together. What I do takes talent,” Hale argued.

“You’re right,” Fish agreed, slamming his stick against the cymbal. “Too bad you don’t have any.”

Bah-dum-bum
. Beth shifted in the folding chair, searching for some position that wouldn’t leave the metal bar digging into her lower back. Star
la had squeezed them into a rehearsal room in the basement of the Fantasia for some last-minute fine-tuning—but so far, the band had barely managed to make it through a single song.

“Maybe you guys should take a break?” Beth suggested.

Fish and Hale exchanged a glance. “Dude, can you tell your girlfriend to chill?” Fish said quietly to Reed—but not quietly enough.

“She’s kind of freaking me out, just staring at us like that,” Hale added.

“She’s right here, guys,” Beth said loudly. “She can hear everything you say.”

“Dude, it’s just that—”

“Forget it.” Beth stood up, realizing that her left foot had fallen asleep. She stamped it against the ground, trying to get rid of the pins and needles. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Reed hurried over to her and tipped his head against hers so that their foreheads met. “You don’t have to go,” he said softly. “They’re just … we kinda suck right now, and—”

She ran her hand lightly up the back of his neck, playing with some loose strands of curly hair. “You guys are great,” she assured him. “You just need practice. And you don’t need me throwing things off.”

Reed kissed her on the cheek. “I need you.”

She laughed and, for a moment, was tempted to stay—but she knew better. “Yes—but you don’t need me right now. You need to practice.”

Reed crinkled his nose, the way he always did when he was surprised. “You know what?”

“What?”

His answer was a kiss.

Beth left—reluctantly—and wandered through the cavernous lobby, barely noticing the people she passed by. She still saw Reed’s face in front of her, looking at her like she could do no wrong. He was the first person she’d ever been with who didn’t judge, didn’t impose, didn’t expect. It wasn’t even that he wanted her to be happy—which was something she couldn’t do, not even for him—it was enough that she did what she wanted, and that she wanted to be with him.

It made her feel like a fraud. She could hear the clock ticking in the back of her mind, and time was running out. Eventually, she would be exposed. When his arms were around her, she could relax. But every time she left his side, the fear descended like a black curtain. Would he be there when she came back?

She knew it was crazy to wonder.

But maybe it was even crazier not to prepare herself for the inevitable. Because one day, he wouldn’t.

She needed some fresh air. But the hotel was like a maze, hallways leading to stairways leading to more hallways, all of which seemed to lead directly back to the gaping mouth of the casino.

“Didn’t think you were the gambling type,” someone said from behind her.

She didn’t have to turn around to put a face to the voice—and didn’t
want
to turn around, since it was a face she never wanted to see again.

“Of course, I didn’t think you were the druggie type either, not after that whole Just Say No lecture on New Year’s Eve,” Kane sneered. “So I guess nothing should surprise me now.”

Beth braced herself for attack. Since their breakup several months before, she and Kane had been at war—and things had only gotten worse since Kaia’s accident. He always looked at her suspiciously, as if he could see her guilt. So, just in case, she tried not to look at him at all. “Leave me alone, Kane,” she said wearily. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” Until he spoke, she hadn’t even noticed the guy standing next to Kane. Maybe because he looked about as un-Kane-like as you could get, from his baggy patchwork jeans to the henna tattoo crawling across his neck. “Guaranteed mood enhancement,” the guy said, handing her a chocolate bar. “Instant happiness, or your money back.”

It would take more than chocolate to guarantee her happiness, especially with Kane on the prowl. Beth waved the candy away. “Thanks, but—”

“Don’t waste your time,” Kane sneered. “She’s morally opposed to … well, pretty much all of life’s pleasure’s, wouldn’t you say?”

The guy pressed the candy bar into her hand and wrapped her fingers around it, holding on for several moments too long. “I’m sure that’s not true,” he said, and something about his tone made Beth uneasy. She pulled her hand away.

“No, it’s true,” she assured him. “Kane’s right. You’re always right, aren’t you?” she asked, aiming for sarcasm but achieving only fear.

“I was wrong about
you,
” he pointed out.

Not wrong enough. He’d been right to think that she was naive enough, stupid enough to fall for his sympathetic act, straight into his arms. And he’d been right to think that he could string her along for weeks, charming her with smiles and kisses and extravagant gifts and suckering her into trusting him.

He’d just been wrong to think that when the truth came out, she’d slink away peacefully, never to be heard from again.

“Turns out this little holier-than-thou act is just a pose,” Kane said. “Turns out she’s just as selfish, weak, and indulgent as the rest of us—she’s just not as good at it.”

Beth thought about her single-minded pursuit of revenge against the people who’d ruined her life: Harper. Kane. Adam. Kaia. She’d indulged her rage, overruled the weak protests of her conscience, selfishly ignored the consequences. She’d done it all incompetently—and someone had died.

Kane didn’t know it, but he was right yet again.

Reed wished he hadn’t let her leave. The music still sucked, Fish and Hale still bugged—nothing was different without her there.

Except him, and not for the better.

He let Fish and Hale take off, and then he wandered off, half hoping he would find her, knowing it was unlikely. There were too many people, a crowd of strangers crushing past him. And she wasn’t answering her cell.

Eventually Reed headed back to the practice room, knowing she would show up eventually. And for a second, when he opened the door and saw a figure inside cleaning things up, he thought he wouldn’t have to wait.

Then he took in the dark dreads, the tattoo, the wicked smile. “Hey, Star
la,” he said, leaning in the doorway. “Thanks again for the space.”

“You remembered.” She turned to face him, and caught him staring at the pale purple snake tattoo that twisted around her waist and climbed upward, disappearing beneath the tight black shirt.

“Tough to forget a name like that,” Reed told her, his face growing a little warm. Did she realize that they didn’t make girls like her back home? That if someone had asked him, last year, to describe his ideal woman, she would have looked like the front-woman of some rock funk punk band, moved like someone born onstage, spoke like music was pounding in her brain, and smiled like she knew a secret that was too good not to spill and too dangerous not to keep?

He’d thought girls like that only existed in magazines and wannabe rock star fantasies. But here she was, in the tattoo-covered, multipierced flesh.

It didn’t matter what he’d wanted a year ago, he reminded himself. He’d been a kid, and now … a lot had changed.

But it didn’t stop him from staring at her as if she were some mythical creature he’d brought to life with the power of his mind. Maybe anything was possible. Dragons. Giants. Centaurs.

And Star
las.