The Long Game (8 page)

Both girls got to their feet. According to
the map, Fowley Library was on the east side of campus, which meant
I stood between them and their destination. I saw my opening.

My eyes still on the map, I took a few steps
to my right just as she passed by.

“Oof!” she grunted. Her backpack swung
forward, and I reached out to steady both her and it. Her body
pressed against mine as she stumbled into me, and I had to admit it
wasn’t an entirely unwelcome feeling.

“Shit. Sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?” I
gently pushed her back and dropped my hand from her shoulder. The
other fell from her backpack a second later, and I folded the map I
was still holding, then slipped it into my back pocket.

She hoisted the bag back onto her shoulder
and looked up at me. Her eyes were a warm, earthy brown like the
clay soil that lined the banks of the creek back home and rimmed
with thick lashes a lighter shade of auburn than her hair. They
flashed with an undeniable spark of intelligence, and I worried for
a second she might see through me.

“I’m fine,” she said, blinking at me.

“Sorry,” I said again.

“It’s cool,” the blonde said. She flashed a
bleached white grin. “She doesn’t mind, do you, Spence?”

Spencer still blinked up at me, her lips
parted slightly. “It’s fine,” she managed.

“Hopefully, next time we run
into each other, we won’t
actually
run into each other.” I didn’t miss the color that
bloomed in her cheeks when I smiled at her.

“Yep.” She nodded and linked her arm through
her friend’s. “Come on, Kay, we’re going to be late.”

Spencer tugged on the girl’s arm, but the
blonde locked her knees like a stubborn mare. “I’m Kay, and this is
Spencer. Who are you?”

Straight to the point. I liked that in a
woman. “Shane Casey.” I gave the name from the fake ID Pop had
supplied me with before I’d left the Village.

“Nice to meet you, Shane,” Kay said. Her eyes
glinted, and she elbowed Spencer in the ribs.

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer mumbled.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

“That’s some accent you’ve got,” Kay said.
“It’s like Brooklyn-by-way-of-Georgia. Are you new here?”

I laughed. “I transferred from Loyola.”

“In Chicago?” Kay asked.

“No, Loyola New Orleans.” I’d worked on
different accents on the bus ride up and finally settled on a
Lakeside drawl. Most of my high school classmates had been from the
affluent area across Lake Pontchartrain, so it was one I could pull
off without much trouble.

“Yeah.” Kay wagged a finger at me. “You sound
like that singer guy. Harry What’s-His-Name.”

“Harry Connick, Jr.” Spencer rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, Kay. I need to go. Moira isn’t going to wait
forever.”

“I’ve been dying to go to Mardi Gras. Is it
awesome? I bet it’s awesome,” Kay said, clearly unconcerned with
wasting Moira’s time.

“It’s a blast,” I said. “You should
definitely go if you get the chance.”

“Okay, well, this is super-interesting, but
unfortunately, we have somewhere to be.” Spencer tugged her
friend’s arm again.

“Yeah, of course,” I said, not wanting to
burn the one bridge I needed to cross. “I won’t keep you any
longer. It was nice to meet you, though.” I tipped my head to Kay.
“Both of you,” I added, smiling at Spencer in a way I hoped made
clear that she’d been my favorite part of the introduction.

She swallowed hard and tugged on Kay’s arm
one last time. Finally, the girl obliged, and I stepped aside to
let them pass. Kay leaned in to whisper something, and Spencer
shook her head.

I waited, counting under my
breath.
One…two…three…
Spencer turned her head and looked back at me over her
shoulder. When I waved, she quickly turned back and picked up her
pace, dragging Kay along with her.

I walked in the opposite direction. When I
was sure there was enough distance between the girls and me, I
reached into my pocket again to pull out the map. I carefully
unfolded it and couldn’t help but grin at the red plastic rectangle
in my hand. I turned it over and pressed the button on its top
edge. Spencer and a small group of her sorority sisters smiled back
at me from the cell phone’s screen.

CHAPTER TEN

CHEERFUL CELTIC MUSIC greeted me at the open
door of the OIA house. I’d assumed OIA stood for Omicron Iota
Alpha, but after a little digging, I’d learned this sorority wasn’t
Greek or even affiliated with a national charter. The Order of
Irish Augustinians was unique to Balanova and explained why all the
sisters had last names like Murray, Ryan, and Donnelly. I made a
mental note to tell Maggie about the group and their apparent
devotion to all things Gaelic.

Colorful bundles of maize decorated tabletops
and hung from light fixtures. The room was a sea of orange-,
brown-, and green-clad sorority sisters and their guests. I’d
settled on a blue button-down and tan cargo shorts, but then, I
hadn’t realized what this party was supposed to be celebrating
before I’d decided to crash it. I scanned the room for a familiar
face and found Kay by the picture window that occupied a large
portion of the front wall of the living room. Orange wildflowers
were woven into her hair, and she stood next to a guy with hawkish
features and carefully arranged bedhead. When she saw me, she
flashed her Colgate smile and waved me over.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said.

“Yeah.” I ducked my head in feigned
sheepishness. “I’m sorry to show up without an invitation.”

“No worries.” She turned to Bedhead. “This is
Shane. He’s from New Orleans. Cool, right?”

Bedhead jutted his chin in the barest of
acknowledgments, moving in closer to Kay in an obvious attempt to
stake his claim.

“Hey.” I gave him my own bare
acknowledgement. “So listen,” I said to Kay. “I think your friend…”
I paused, as if searching my memory. “Spencer? I think this belongs
to her.” I held up the phone in its red case.

“Oh my god! She’s been looking for that
everywhere.” Kay grabbed my arm. “Let’s go give it back to
her.”

We left a dejected Bedhead standing by the
window, and I allowed Kay to lead me through the crowd of
partygoers.

“There she is,” Kay said, moving toward a
small group gathered in one corner. I’d already seen Spencer before
Kay pointed her out. She was pretty hard to miss in the strapless
green dress that Kay had so accurately predicted she’d look hot in.
As we got closer, though, my opinion changed. Hot wasn’t really the
word. It was more like stunning. An uncomfortable warmth spread
through my veins, and I was suddenly second-guessing my plan.

“Nah, you’re totally off, man,” said a lanky
kid with long, straight hair tucked behind his protruding ears. He
waved his hands wildly as he spoke. “Brian Jones created the
Stones. They wouldn’t have been anything if it hadn’t been for him.
Jaggar and Richards are so overrated. They were total fools to
replace him with Ronnie Wood.”

Another kid, this one in an
ugly orange hoodie, hissed in disgust. “Seriously? Please tell me
you’re kidding. Jones could barely play the harmonica, let alone
the guitar. By ‘66, he wasn’t even recording with them anymore. He
was banned from touring because of his
multiple
drug convictions. They had to
replace him. They had no choice.”

The lanky one sneered and opened his mouth,
but Spencer beat him to it. “Actually, you’re both wrong,” she
said. Everyone turned to look at her, and the girl who’d partially
obscured her until now shifted so that Spencer was in full view of
the group.

“How’s that?” Lanky asked.

“Well, first—” Spencer directed this at the
kid in the orange hoodie. “—Jones made several pretty big
contributions to the group, even after Richards and Jaggar took
over as songwriters.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips
doubtfully, but gestured with a bob of his head that she should
continue. “The sitar line in ‘Paint It, Black’ is probably the most
well-known, but he also played both dulcimer and harpsichord on
‘Lady Jane.’ Oh, and oboe and sax on ‘Dandelion.’ And he was only
banned from touring in the U.S., which didn’t happen until after
‘69.”

“See, man, I told you!” Lanky gave his
opponent’s shoulder a backhanded smack and grinned at his new
ally.

She gave him an apologetic smile in return.
“But he’s right that it was a good decision to get rid of him.
Jones’ drug issues were dragging them down, and really, he didn’t
want to be part of the group any more than they wanted him. Also,
Mick Taylor replaced Jones. Ronnie Wood replaced Taylor.” Both men
glowered at her, and she shrugged. “I’m kind of a fan.”

The two music fans slunk away to continue
their argument in peace, and the small crowd dispersed.

Kay, still attached to my arm, pushed her way
through. “Hey, Spence. Look who I found.”

Spencer tried—and failed—to hide her
surprise. “Oh, hey. Shane, right?”

I nodded, still getting used to the extra
consonant at the end of my name.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jeez, way to be rude,” Kay chastised,
bumping her shoulder into Spencer’s. “He found your phone and
wanted to return it.”

I took my cue and produced the cell phone
once again. I held it out to her, and she scooped it out of my
hand, her fingers brushing against my palm as she did. “I think it
fell out of your bag when we bumped into each other,” I lied. “I
looked for you in the library, but that place is huge and I had an
appointment with my advisor, so I figured I’d just bring it
here.”

Spencer tilted her head, considering what I’d
told her. “How’d you know I live here?”

I’d anticipated the question and had my
answer ready. “The picture on the lock screen.” I pointed to the
phone. “You’re wearing an OIA sweatshirt.”

“Gorgeous and clever. You’re like the total
package, Shane,” Kay said. She wriggled her eyebrows at
Spencer.

“Thanks for returning it,” Spencer said,
purposefully ignoring Kay.

“No problem.”

“All right!” Kay clapped her hands together,
either oblivious to or undeterred by Spencer’s resistance to her
matchmaking efforts. “I guess I should go find Gary before he gets
too drunk to remember what I look like. I’ll see you guys later.”
She turned on her heels and disappeared before anyone had the
chance to protest.

Left alone with Spencer, I shoved my hands
into the pockets of my shorts and looked around. “So, you guys know
Lúnasa is supposed to be celebrated at the beginning of August, not
the end, right?”

Spencer eyed me with curiosity. “You know
about Lúnasa?”

“Sure,” I said, but then feeling like I
needed some sort of explanation, I added, “My family’s Irish.”

“You might be the only person here who’s ever
heard of it, and that’s including most of the OIAs. These parties
always have a theme based on Irish festivals, but mostly it’s just
an excuse to get drunk and dance. We don’t make too much of an
effort to be culturally accurate. Sorry.”

“No, I get it,” I said. “Lúnasa celebrates
the transition from summer to fall. Makes sense for the beginning
of a new school year.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”

I grinned. “So have you been a member of the
sorority since you started here?”

“Since my first semester, yeah,” she said,
though she was looking at something over my shoulder when she
spoke.

“You look really great tonight,” I said. I
wasn’t sure if I’d complimented her to win the battle for her
attention or because I just couldn’t keep myself from saying
it.

Either way, the result was the same.
Spencer’s full attention returned to me. “Thanks,” she said, her
cheeks pink.

“That’s a great dress.”

She glanced down at herself. “It’s okay. I
always wait until the last minute to pick something. Fashion isn’t
really my thing.”

“You’d never know it to look at you.” I swept
an admiring glance from her face to her feet.

Spencer fidgeted with her neckline. “So
listen, thanks for bringing my phone back, but I really should
mingle a little.”

She moved to walk around me, but I caught her
arm before she could go far. Spencer tensed so quickly I worried
one of her tendons might snap. I pulled my hand back. “Think you
might want to dance later?”

She didn’t look at me, but the corner of her
mouth twitched when she gave a faint nod.

I grinned. “Good. Looking forward to it.”

On my own, I scanned the crowd for a second
time, looking for another group to make myself a part of. There was
only one person here I wanted to spend any time with, but my hope
was that if Spencer saw me talking to someone else, it might make
her more interested in spending time with me.

A thin, pale girl with shoulder-length hair
dyed an unnatural shade of red perched on the arm of a sofa about
twenty feet from me. She stared at me openly, and I assumed her
boldness had more than a little to do with whatever was in the
plastic cup in her hand. She’d serve my purposes just fine.

“Hey,” I said as I approached her. “I’m
Shane.”

“Anna,” she said with a flirty smile.

I leaned my hip into the back of the sofa.
“Are you an OIA sister?”

“Not so much.” She snorted. “They throw
decent parties and all, but I’m not really into the whole
‘sisterhood’ thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not much of a joiner either,” I
said, telling her what I figured she’d want to hear.

Apparently, I’d guessed right. Anna slid an
inch or so closer. “So are you a loner, Shane?” she asked, laying a
hand on my arm.

“Not always,” I said with a wink.

She eyed me wantonly, pressing a hand to my
chest as she laughed. “Good to know.”