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Authors: Emily Franklin

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BOOK: Slippery Slopes
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As if reading her mind, Professor Hartman says, “We’re all products, at least in some way, of where we’re brought up. Or maybe we’re not and one could argue that in a paper. One might argue that trying to actively escape the chains of upbringing could only plunge us deeper into denial.”

Dove reaches for a mug of rum and drinks some, despite knowing it’s against the rules. “So you’re saying …”

“I’m saying that you can fight it all you like, but it’s my opinion—and Max’s, I might add—that you think about rejoining the academic ranks and go to university.”

Dove swallows. The liquor burns her throat, and the idea put forth by the axman-turned-professor seems just as sharp. A painful departure from the self-driven life she’s leading now to papers, lectures, and home turf. “I don’t know.” First she lets her thoughts run away, with her mouth following closely behind. “There are plans I’ve made, you know? Beaches, boys—it probably sounds stupid to you. But it’s my life, and I’m living it even if it isn’t …” She stops. What isn’t it? Easy? Fun? Exciting? Good for the long run?
What, exactly, was my plan after this season, anyway?
Blushing at her lack of forethought, Dove’s manners come back to her and she does what her mother always taught her to in situations that could be awkward. She glosses over and doesn’t deal. “You’re very kind to suggest I’ve somehow retained the intellectual capacity to go … or that they’d even have me after I never enrolled. I do appreciate your point of view.”

Professor Hartman watches her with a mix of amusement and frustration. “I understand.” He wipes his mouth on the napkin and drains his drink. “Please do get in touch should you ever feel like responding in a real way to what I’ve said.”

He shakes her hand and leaves her to ladle eggnog and contemplate what she would have said if she’d been telling the truth.

“So what’s her big surprise, anyway?” Just out of the shower, Melissa rummages in her bureau for anything that could pass as a costume. “You realize we have to leave in five minutes and I have nothing to wear, haven’t eaten all day practically, and have the ball to contend with tomorrow starting at the crack of dawn.”

“And you realize that most of your nerves aren’t due to any of those issues but have merely to do with seeing a certain James again….” Dove slides into an entirely silver bodysuit. “What do you think?”

Melissa raises her eyebrows, checking out the full view. “Um, I think it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“I’m meant to be a snowflake.” Dove plays with her white blond hair, spiking it with hair wax. She rims her mouth with iridescent lipstick, completing her look.

“Great. You look like a stunning, if a tad slutty, snowflake, and I’m a big wad of nothing.” Melissa holds up a scarf and large hoop earrings. “Whenever I didn’t know what to wear for Halloween, I always went as a pirate.”

“All the scarves, layers, and jewelry you could want … not to mention eyeliner.” Dove laughs. “Come on, just hurry and find something so we can get there.”

A knocking at the back door surprises both of them. “You think it’s Charlie?”

“What does she want? To rub her mysterious secret in our faces again?” Melissa tromps over to the door, ready to inform Charlie that neither she nor Dove cares to hear about her big announcement. But at the back door is Matron, with a worried look on her face.

“Are you okay?” Melissa asks. She tries to ascertain what the issue at hand is so that Matron won’t come in and see Dove in costume. Off-resort parties would not be tolerated. Melissa taps her foot, not wanting to be late.

“I’ve just had a thought.” Matron furrows her brow. “You’ve solved the issue with the flooring for the ball, but what about the ice?”

“Sorry?” Melissa thinks about ice—for drinks? For sculptures? For … “Oh, you want the ice cleaned?”

Matron looks apologetic—or as apologetic as she gets late at night. “I know it’s a bit last-minute to spring on you, but I’ve had a look at the pond in the moonlight and it’s just too much. Too much muddled colors and graffiti. The rather rowdy skiers took over after we left and, well, you can imagine the state they’ve left it in.”

Melissa nods, the sinking feeling of missing the party to end all parties creeping into her thoughts. “And you want me to do this now?”

“There’s a hose and sprayer all hooked up for you. Shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”

Two hours later, Melissa stands with her teeth chattering, spraying the last quarter of the pond.
A few minutes, my ass. This is taking forever. By now Dove’s probably in lip lock with Max, and Charlie’s gathering a crowd for her major
attention-grabbing statement. And James? Will he wait for me? Understand why I’m not there? Or be dancing with someone else?

Melissa’s hand grips the nozzle, spraying a steady stream of water that freezes almost immediately after hitting the ice. The layer of new ice covers over the colors, muting them into submission.

When she gets to the Mona Lisa portrait, Melissa can’t bring herself to cover it.
Fine. Let Matron have a fit. It’s a job mostly well done. But the Mona Melissa is too nice to cover up. And it’s the first time someone ever did anything like that for me.
She checks her watch.
If I leave from here, I can just about make the party.

Melissa follows the directions given to her, in French, by a farmer out with his dogs, and wonders if she misheard him.
The cold place? Maybe even he knows it’s a cool party. But not cold.
She drives the van slowly, hoping not to miss the turn that will lead her to where the lights are. Even from where she is, she can make out a source of light—spotlights in blue. She rolls down the window, thinking she can hear music, and sure enough, the steady thump of bass swooshes over the fields and hills, beckoning her closer.

The van pauses on a bridge and Melissa has to use the windshield wipers to clear the steam from the front window.
What the

Oh. Cold. Not cool. But cool, too.
Towering in front of her, past the parked cars, the wide lights flanking the bridge, are the guests decked out in costumes that make Melissa bemoan her own red snow-pants and jacket. But farther on is a building made entirely of ice.

So much for dressing in slips and lingerie
, Melissa thinks as she parks and heads toward the entrance. Women in slim-fitting angel outfits shiver, while others in princess gear and Catwoman suits rub their hands on their arms for warmth.

“Welcome to the ice palace!” A bouncer stands checking invites at the cavernous doorway. Melissa flashes hers and pauses, agape at the sheer beauty of the building.

A ski team member stands spewing information for anyone to hear. “Four stories, thirty-five rooms, two bars, and all made of fresh water from the Le Monde River. Pretty amazing, huh?”

Melissa nods, entranced. Only the feeling of being costumeless and clunky in her red snowsuit makes her frown.
Why am I not one of those girls?
She eyes the nearest angel-slash-lingerie model and feels even bulkier. Just as she’s having the momentary lack of confidence, Charlie appears.

“Hey, nice costume, Melissa.” Charlie’s sarcasm drips from her faux smile. Dressed as an elf, if elves were inherently gorgeous, Charlie’s red tights, knee-high black boots, and felt minidress only make Melissa more self-conscious.
So she’s not an angel

how fitting,
Melissa thinks. Before Melissa can react with a comeback, Charlie waves to someone up on the ice balcony above them.

Melissa looks up.
James. Of course.
James looks down, waves at them both and makes a move toward the curved ice stairs.

“Looks like we have company,” Melissa says.

“Correction:
I
have company. You just have a big red suit.

The only saving grace is the fact that she’s cold.
Melissa watches Charlie rub her hands together, bouncing slightly in her boots. Along the wall are massive black coats for the taking. Charlie looks longingly at the puffy jackets but doesn’t reach for one. In a bin near the coats are castoff accessories—glittery headbands, swords, an umbrella, and a few angel wings.

“It’s just a coat—it won’t bite you,” Melissa says, wishing the image of Charlie and James weren’t quite so vivid in her mind. Big news, she has big news. It could be anything, right? Not necessarily about her and—

“Hey! Glad you could make it!” James leans in to greet Melissa.

He’s going to kiss me

right here, in front of everyone, in front of his tabloid love.
She waits, tilting her head just a little. But James only kisses her cheek, then checks out her outfit. “And what is this, exactly?”

Charlie butts in. “She’s not anything. She’s just in snow gear.”

I’m not anything. That can’t be true, though.
Melissa feels a surge of anger and frustration somehow morph into calm. “Oh, I’m something all right. First of all, I’m warm.” Melissa points to Charlie’s blue lips, her shivers. “You’d think all the females in this place had something to prove….”

James laughs, turning conspiratorially toward Melissa. “Remember? What’d I tell you about dressing up and dressing in not enough clothing?”

Melissa dashes to the bin of extra accessories and flings through a few before grabbing a red headband with devil horns. She puts it on her own head of dark ringlets.

“Oh, now what are you supposed to be?” Charlie rolls her eyes, sidling up to James. “I’m Santa’s helper…. But I can help you, too.” She slings her arm around him just like in the paparazzi pictures. Melissa waits for James to mind, but he doesn’t.

Melissa displays her red pants, red jacket, and red horns.
James doesn’t go for slutty costumes, but does he go for girls in red-padded suits?
“I’m a daredevil.” Melissa thinks about all the things she can do for dares.

From behind her, Gabe gives a hug. “Great costume, Melissa. Plus, you’ll be warm enough.” He gestures to the long ice bar. “Now, who’s up for getting a cold drink?”

Tucked into a corner booth carved out of ice, Dove sips her icy drink and leans further into Max than she planned.
It’s cold, that’s all. And he’s warm. And he’s lovely.

“So, what do you make of this place?” Gabe asks with Melissa nearby.

“Do you have to ask?” Dove smiles; having changed her outfit, she’s decked out in head-to-toe silver. She pats her puffy jacket. “I’m just glad I came as tinsel. Otherwise, I’d be frostbitten by now.”

Gabe nods. “We have a first-aid truck out back for just that reason.” He shakes his head. “Lots of fallen angels.”

Max sighs, staring at Dove, his cheeks ruddy. “Well, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head out.”

Dove looks surprised.
I thought he’d be here with me. Or stay with me until

Maybe that’s the problem. I think he’ll just wait for me but he won’t. He has a life and I

“Well, as the party’s official daredevil, I hereby command you to …” Melissa falters. “To give a kiss to one deserving woman before you go.”

Crowds from the bar swell onto the ice floor, the music pounding, as Max stands there. “Who says I have to accept your dare?”

Melissa laughs, tipsy, and knowing she’ll pay for it tomorrow when she has to organize the entire ball. “I say. I am, after all,
THE DAREDEVIL
.”

Max looks at Dove for a long time, giving her reason to suddenly feel like jumping up and hanging on him like real tinsel.
I like him. That’s the plain and simple truth.
“Are you going to come home?” Max asks her. She looks at him, confused. “To England. Go to Oxford, like you’re supposed to?”

Dove feels kicked. “Oh, that’s what this is about? My attending the fine institution? Or is it really about you deciding what’s best for me?”

Max shakes his head. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” Then he turns to Melissa. “I hate dares, but just this once I’ll humor you.” He grabs the nearest girl from the bar, swings her around so she faces him, and plants a long kiss on her mouth. Dove watches this with her heart racing, her mind doing the same.

The girl stands up from the kiss and smiles. “Well, hello, Max. Long time no see.”

Claire? My evil old friend? This just couldn’t get any worse.
Dove sips her drink, shoots Melissa a mean look, and hunkers down on the ice bench, feeling very cold.

The light on the ice palace competes with the light pushing its way into the morning sky.

“I should go,” Melissa announces to the stragglers.
So much for the perfect night

I pissed off the best friend I have here, never even danced with James, and didn’t manage
to use my daredevil powers for anything good. In the driveway, she can see Charlie getting into one of the hotel vans.
She never made her big announcement

probably it never even existed.

“Well, thanks for coming.” Gabe hugs her. “If anyone can pull off an impromptu costume, it’s you.”

Melissa blushes, holding the red headband in her hand. “How do you know this wasn’t the product of weeks of planning?” She laughs.

Gabe’s eyes sparkle as he takes the headband from her and puts it, crooked, on his own head. “So, does this thing give me special powers, too?”

Melissa shrugs. “Why? What were you hoping? To fly somewhere exotic?”

Gabe negs that idea. “Too much ski practice. Besides, I don’t need wings to fly.”

“Besides sounding like a cheesy lyric, what does that mean?”

Gabe clears his throat, about to explain. “I wouldn’t need wings because I …”

“Hey, I thought I missed you.” James strides over to them. He puts his arm around Melissa’s shoulders. Melissa can’t help but feel tingles, those magnetic vibes.

If only I didn’t have to get back to the chalet and get ready for the big day and night …
“Where were you, anyway? I was in the bar, and even ventured to the ice caves, but I didn’t see you.”

Gabe tugs at his bright blond curls, his emotions hidden as he waits for James to answer. “It was so crowded, you know? I looked for you, but to no avail.” James squeezes her before letting go. “But tonight?”

Gabe steps in. “The big thing, right? All your hard work finally coming to fruition?”

BOOK: Slippery Slopes
4.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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