Love Fortunes and Other Disasters (19 page)

“Are you fated to end up here?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together.

“Come on. I need to know if you're going to be convincing.”

He seemed to choose his answer carefully. “It could be safer for me to live here after graduation, but no, I'm not doomed to be single. Romance is in my future.”

Fallon bit her tongue as more questions bubbled up. “Asking for Hal probably won't work. If he's here, the others must be protecting him. Otherwise, someone would have found him by now. The tour would allow us a better chance at finding him.”

Sebastian swung one leg over the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a better idea.” He looked over his shoulder. “The walls are paper-thin. We could hear him without having to talk to anybody.”

Her stomach clenched at the thought of getting caught, but then she remembered Robbie's request. He'd asked her to do something a little risky and dangerous before graduating. As a freshman, she was starting early. In jeans, she had no trouble climbing over the wall. The villas weren't as quiet as she first thought. The shadow between buildings came from the courtyard, where men could be heard talking. Someone cooked meat on a grill; smoke trailed over the rooftops.

Sebastian found a gap between the buildings for a modest garden; avoiding the unwound hose, he came as close as he could to the front of the building and listened for a few minutes. He shook his head. None of the men in the courtyard were Hard-boiled Hal.

As her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness, Fallon picked out shapes. Bags of garbage languished behind the houses. The bachelors left television sets and yesterday's dinners out on the grass. The wall was too close to the backs of the villas for proper backyards, but the bachelors used the space anyway.

They wandered the perimeter of the villas, careful to listen for anyone who might sound like the radio show host. Fallon wondered if they were going to get caught. Surely someone was looking out his back window. “What if someone sees us?” she asked.

Or tried to ask. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.

Fallon stopped walking, puzzled. Even though it was chilly out, she felt fine. No pressure or scratchiness in her throat. No oncoming runny nose and croaky coughs. So where had her voice gone? She stepped on an empty soda can—and heard nothing.

Panicking, Fallon grabbed Sebastian by the wrist. “What's going on?” she mouthed.

He said something back, but she couldn't hear him. Sebastian craned his neck, examining the second- and third-floor windows of the villa they stood behind. He then searched the bushes and even checked the side of the house. When he returned, he wore a smile. He crooked his finger, asking her to follow him. They headed back to the wall.

“Sebastian, I don't get it,” she said. Her voice, suddenly there, startled her.

“It has a limited range,” he explained, leaning against the wall. “As long as we're this close to the wall, we can talk.”

“What does?”

“A silencing charm,” he said.

“I've used silencing charms before,” she said, “and all they do is lower sound to a dull buzz. Not wipe it out completely.” She always bought a few during midterms and finals week so that no one could interrupt her study sessions.

“Remember our visit to Femke and Mirthe's house? They said that if we had the money, we could buy more concentrated charms.”

“That would explain it,” she said. The man living in this villa had to have a good job to afford such a charm. “But why hang such an expensive charm outside, in the bushes, no less?”

“I know the answer to that one.” Sebastian flashed a delicious grin. “This man doesn't want to be overheard. Not by his neighbors. Not by the townspeople on the other side of the walls. Sounds a lot like paranoia, right? But what if he has a secret worth protecting?”

Fallon matched his grin with hers. “Hard-boiled Hal?”

“This could be him.”

They plunged back into the silence. This time, it wasn't as frightening. Fallon ignored the heavy weight of the charm's manufactured quiet, focusing on Sebastian's back as he led her around the corner of the villa. He parted the nondescript bush against the building, revealing a copper charm shaped like lips. The lips had been sewn shut and tied at the right-hand corner of the mouth. Next to the bush was a basement window, glowing bright.

Fallon knelt down on her knees beside Sebastian and peered inside. Despite the man's precautions with the silencing charm, he didn't cover the window. The basement had leather furnishings and a wooden table in the center. A man sat at the table, pressing the keys on a black typewriter.

The man was in his twenties, with rather large eyes framed with thick black lashes. He had the body of an ex-athlete, with thick muscled arms and the beginnings of a beer belly. As he typed, he scratched his scruffy beard and grumbled. His T-shirt said something about burping the alphabet.

Sebastian tapped as loudly as he could on the window.

Even though the tapping was silent on their side, the man heard it perfectly. He stood up from the table, his face drained of color.

Sebastian pointed to himself and Fallon, then to his right, indicating that they'd be waiting for him at the front of the villa.

Fallon's heart thudded as they walked to the front. This man could be Hard-boiled Hal. They'd actually found him. She was glad that she'd never been a big fan like Anais—her excitement came from aiding the rebellion, not from meeting a local celebrity.

The man opened the door; he was wearing pajama bottoms patterned with pralines. “Trespassing is a crime—” he started.

“We know you're Hard-boiled Hal,” Sebastian said, raising his voice.

The man leaped forward, slapping his hand over Sebastian's mouth. “Quiet down,” he said.

“Not unless you let us in,” Fallon said.

The man groaned. “Fine, but not one word!”

The inside of the villa was pitiful. The smell of heavy cologne and garbage saturated the living room and kitchen. Crumbs caught between couch cushions. A laundry pile spilled out of the bedroom. They followed the man down to the basement.

“Have a seat,” he said reluctantly, gesturing to the two chairs opposite his across the table.

As Fallon sat, she noticed a door she hadn't seen from her angle at the window. It was a white door peppered with juvenile stickers proclaiming
KEEP OUT
and
CAUTION: GENIUS AT WORK.

“That's my studio,” the man explained, catching her eye. “No matter how much you offer, you won't see the inside of it. I can't believe the newspaper sent two kids to find me. They have no morals.”

“We're not from the paper,” Fallon said. “Our intention isn't to reveal your secret identity.”

“But if we didn't threaten you, you wouldn't have let us in,” Sebastian said.

The man agreed with that. “How did you know it was me?”

“Well, you do kind of look like someone named Hard-boiled Hal,” Fallon said, trying to be kind. The cheeky T-shirt certainly fit the radio show host's personality, but she had expected someone more comely.

“Your voice,” Sebastian said, crossing his arms. “It's distinctive. You can't completely hide it.”

“So what do you want from me?” he said.

“Your name, for starters,” Sebastian said.

“Bram De Groote, accountant,” he said, “at your service.”

“I hope so. We're in need of allies. The way you speak about love on your radio show makes us believe that you could be receptive to our plans,” Fallon said.

Sebastian added, “Basically, we're part of a group that's going to stop Zita.”

“What do you mean?”

“No more love fortunes,” she said. “And if Zita does have power over us, we're going to end it.”

Bram slumped back in his chair, stroking his beard. “You're playing me.”

“This is a serious situation. Our lives are at stake,” Fallon said, angered by Bram's skepticism.

“I understand. You've been dealt a rotten hand,” Bram said. “All the men here have, but we deal with it in different ways. That's what adults do.”

“By having a radio show that promotes grossness and bad manners?” Fallon replied. “We may not be the adults here, but I think we have a better understanding of what's going on in this town.”

“Other towns don't operate the way Grimbaud does. They don't let one person dictate how they choose to love,” Sebastian said.

“We do it because Zita's always right.” Bram slammed his fist down on the table. “My distaste for her and everything she represents is obvious. I created this show to spite her, but it's a useless hobby. I'm not making a difference, nor do I expect to. Destined couples marry each year and new spinsters and bachelors move into the villas. The cycle continues.”

His bitterness was overwhelming. As cool and unaffected as Hard-boiled Hal was, his real-life counterpart, Bram, suffered from the same rotten feelings that many people felt in Grimbaud. Like them, he wouldn't do anything to change the situation. “What happened to you?” she asked.

“The last fortune I got before I found out I was a bachelor was during my sophomore year,” he said sourly. “It said,
‘an embarrassing rejection awaits you.'
My friends constantly teased me about it. My mother warned me against actually following through with my plans to confess to the girl I loved, but I couldn't hold back. I had to share my feelings with Emma.” Bram took a deep, shuddering breath. “The entire school was witness to my confession. They barely held back their laughter as I poured my heart out. Emma was reading a book on one of the benches. When she looked up, it was only to ask me if I would stand a little to the left to block the sun for her. She hadn't heard a word I said.”

Fallon pressed her hands in her lap. “Do you mean Emma Ward?”

“That's the one.” Bram flashed a careless smile. “She's a spinster now.”

“Didn't you try again?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course not,” he said. “The entire school was in hysterics. The administration even held the bell so that everyone could compose themselves for homeroom.”

“You can put your past behind you,” Sebastian said, trying one last time. “If you've ever wanted to change—”

Bram raised his hand. “Stop now. You know that nothing ever changes in this town. I'm sorry you misread me. My alter ego tends to be much more charming than the real man. You'll have to leave now. I must prepare for tonight's show.”

Fallon stood up so fast that the chair almost toppled. Her frustration and anger toward Bram was palpable; she wished that she could shake him until he saw reason. She stopped at the bottom of the basement stairs.

“You know,” she said, pinning Bram with her eyes, “Ms. Ward suffered too. She's been hurt more than you ever have, but least she's gutsier than you.”

She didn't wait to see his reaction.

*   *   *

Fallon hugged her arms during the walk back to the complex, gathering comfort from the large, geometric sweater. Tonight, she lost her temper for the first time in a while. Her skin felt hot, her heart beating loudly as the last of her anger lingered. How could she just sit there and watch their chance at gaining an ally fail? How could she let Bram De Groote imply that Ms. Ward had hurt him on purpose, the one scar he carried while Ms. Ward bore so many?

“Your language must always be quality,” her father had always said, giving her and Robbie extra grammar lessons as children. “No dirty words. Keep your sentences short and clear.” She usually tried her best to follow those rules, but right now she wanted to curse and rant.

Sebastian seemed affected by the night's events too. He watched her carefully as they crossed a cobblestone bridge and jumped over puddles. “The club's going to be disappointed when they find out that Hard-boiled Hal is a dud,” he said.

“I'm glad we tracked him down,” she said. “We found out sooner rather than later that he won't help.”

Sebastian tapped his ears. “I'm glad my keen sense of hearing saved the day.”

“It's pretty amazing.”

“Is that a compliment from the princess?” Sebastian said, grinning. They were only a block away from the complex, but he stopped right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Is that so unusual?” Fallon tried to walk past him, but he stepped in front of her. They stood so close, she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Sometimes I think you really mean it,” he said with some concern.

Fallon shrugged.

Sebastian's cold fingers touched her chin. He bumped his nose against hers, his mouth so close. “This wasn't the most romantic night,” he whispered.

Her heart did a strange dance in her chest. Her hand, holding the shopping bag with her soggy clothes, went numb.

This was a tease. He'd never gone so far as this, tempting a princess with a knave's kiss. But she was no princess—she was the resourceful lady's maid. She knew that he didn't expect her to give in. Sebastian waited for her to push him away or say something prudish that would make him laugh. But Fallon felt that this was a night of changes. She decided to say something of quality.

“You've got a cold kiss,” she whispered back. “I want a real one.”

 

chapter 16

WELCOME LOVE

Observation, not experience, had taught Fallon that it would be dangerous to place her heart in Sebastian's hands. She'd buried any attraction she felt for Sebastian and chose to hate him instead. Hate him for the parade of girls he dated. Hate him for holding their hands, kissing them in the shadows, and sharing nothing of himself.

So what was she doing, saying something like that? Wasn't she just the next girl in line, pressing her heart into his palms for safekeeping? The old Fallon, having been pushed into a smaller and smaller space behind her ribs, snarled. The new Fallon knew this was neither stupidity nor weakness. No matter how illogical, this was how she really felt. Her vulnerable heart awaited judgment.