Chapter 10
Iwoke to the alarm screaming at me. I slapped at it, silencing the thing, and nearly went back to sleep but paused. The last thing I remembered was Death pressing me back into the bed. I'd been kissing him, letting my hands run all over his body, and then... Nothing.
"Damn you," I snarled, realizing what he'd done.
The bastard had magicked me back to sleep! He'd kissed me to distract me, then forced me back to my side of the veil and into a deep enough sleep that I couldn't come back. The problem was that I kinda had to give him credit for that. I mean, I'd basically told him I wouldn't give up, so he'd proven that I couldn't stop him. Was there something wrong with me to think that was a little bit sexy?
Probably.
There was something even more wrong with the fact that I wasn't freaked out at the idea of his abilities being magic. They probably weren't. Somewhere, there had to be a rational explanation for all of this, but it didn't really matter. There was this famous quote about how sufficiently advanced technology would be indistinguishable from magic, and I had a funny feeling it applied. Humans had been seeing ghosts for long enough that we'd stopped believing in them, but what if the reality was a lot more mundane? I'd have to get Death to break it down a little more the next time we met.
Wait. What if I was wrong? What if that hadn't been anything but a dream? The first time I'd seen Death was after getting smacked in the head with a gun and put on a pretty impressive dose of pain killers. Yesterday, I'd been diagnosed with a concussion and given some serious medication for the pain. Surely that was just a coincidence, right?
I couldn't shake the feeling. No one else ever saw him. I had absolutely no evidence that he was anything but one very amazing hallucination. The first time it happened, the doctors told me I may have seen things I thought were real, but it didn't mean they were. Magic? A sexy man in a hood that saved my life not just once, but twice? If that wasn't the kind of thing my demented mind would make up on its own, then I couldn't think of what would be.
I sat there in bed for a moment, trying to decide if I should call my old shrink. The problem was I couldn't afford her rates. Well, that's what I told myself. I also didn't want her to tell me I was losing my mind. Believing I was part of some bigger, super-special world? I liked that a whole lot more than thinking I was completely and totally nutso. So long as I kept it to myself, what difference did it make? I clearly hadn't gone all the way around the bend if I recognized this was insane. That meant I wasn't totally loopy, right?
Right.
Having mostly convinced myself, I tossed back the blankets and began my day. The strange thing was that I no longer ached all over. It seemed as if taking an extended nap was just what the doctor ordered, or should have. Unfortunately, that didn't get back my stuff from my car. On the upside, I had Creative Writing this morning and then Calculus. Everything I needed for those was in my backpack. Hopefully, Nick would be able to give me a ride over to the police station when we got out of class so I could pick up the rest.
I hated the idea of asking him. Even worse, I didn't know what I'd do if he had another of those meetings he kept running off for. Ask Sam? Probably not the best idea. After he'd been so sweet to me yesterday, I almost felt like I'd done something wrong, like I should tell Nick about it. We weren't officially dating or anything, but I sure didn't want to make him think he couldn't trust me.
Granted, what I'd done last night with Death? Yeah... I was going to write that off as a wild fantasy. I mean, it wasn't cheating if it wasn't real, right? Since no one else would believe me, and I wasn't actually dating Nick, it didn't count. Besides, admitting it would be so bad. The only way that would end would be with me in a white, self-hugging jacket.
Trying not to worry about it, I gathered my things and headed into the kitchen to fill my massive mug of go-juice. I was halfway there when I remembered that I'd never made it to the store. Not only was I missing my new art supplies, I still didn't have the one thing I couldn't live without. Just one problem; I could smell a nice fresh brew.
Peering around the corner into the kitchen, I saw the coffee pot pulled to the edge of the counter, the carafe half full of amazing brown fluid, and a bright red plastic tub sitting beside it. The light for the automatic brew was on, which meant it had been set up sometime yesterday. I hadn't done it, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out someone had. But who?
Did Death make coffee? Sam? Had Nick stopped over while I was in the hospital? None of that made any sense! Death didn't live on my plane of existence. Sam hadn't left my sight the whole time he was here. No one else had keys to get in, and the door had been locked. Did I do it and just forgot?
Seriously, what the fuck?
I filled my mug anyway, adding a nice dose of creamer and sugar for that extra added boost, then turned the pot off and slid it back into the corner where it belonged. When I reached for the container of coffee, something blue caught my eye. Not royal blue, but moonlit – the exact color of Death's skin. Laying there beside the sink was a posy of wildflowers. The stem of one had been wound around the others, holding them together, but I couldn't take my eyes off those dainty little petals. The color was perfect. I had no idea what they were, but if I had to guess, I'd say forget-me-nots. They looked right, but it would take a Google search to be sure.
On a whim, I pulled down a glass, put a little water in it, and used it as a vase for my bouquet. They had to be from Death. I didn't see Nick as the flower kind of guy, and Sam? He would've gone for roses. Death was the type of man to handpick flowers and leave them where I'd stumble across them. The bigger question, though, was how?
I figured that out the moment I walked into the living room. Stacked by my door were both of my backpacks. Mixed among them was every single thing that had been in my car. My portfolio and art case were carefully leaned against the wall. A handful of books had been set beside it with two hoodies, both folded nicely and set on top of them. For a moment I just gaped in astonishment. First, because I no longer needed to beg a ride to the police station. Second? Well, it seemed the line between my world and Death's was a very fluid one. No one else could have done this but him.
Third, I wasn't crazy.
Death was real. He wasn't a figment of my imagination, I wasn't going insane, and those things he'd said hadn't been just wish fulfillment. I really was special, and for the first time in my life, I didn't have to doubt it. Shrugging my backpack over my shoulder, I left the house with a smile on my face. Everything was going to be ok. My dream guy was real. Things were finally looking up.
The smile stayed until I stepped inside the Language building. That's when Luke met me at the stairs, coming in from another hall. The groan that came out of my mouth was not intentional, but it was loud enough that he heard. Unfortunately, it wasn't loud enough to stop him from falling in at my side.
"Feeling better?" The way he asked that made it sound like I'd faked the accident or something.
I couldn't help the annoyed look on my face. I tried, but this guy just kept rubbing me the wrong way. "Remind me why you care again?"
"Hey," he gasped, lifting both hands in mock innocence. "Just making sure. You looked a little beat up when I gave Nick a ride to the hospital."
"I'm fine, thanks." And a bitch, but this guy just weirded me out. Besides, I'd rather be a bitch than a statistic.
He huffed in frustration but said nothing else until we reached the top of the stairs. I intended to keep walking past him, but his hand shot out, catching my elbow carefully. When I tried to pull free, he tugged, guiding me out of the flow of traffic. I went. I didn't like it, but I had no real reason to cause a scene. Not yet, at least.
"Is this because I didn't tip enough the other night?" The gloating look on his face proved he knew better.
I rolled my eyes, annoyed that he was making me sound like some cheap gold-digger. "No, ok?"
"Then what's it going to take to make you like me a little more?"
Right at that moment, his brass-colored impersonator walked past. I didn't know the guy's name, but his eyes crawled all over my body before he disappeared into our classroom. The look on his face was menacing, making me feel like I was under attack for no reason. When I looked back, Luke's eyes were locked on the asshole like the two of them shared some nefarious secret.
"Friend of yours?" I asked snidely. "Because the way y'all stare at me is getting old already."
Luke sighed deeply and lifted a hand to rub his brow. "Sienna, look –"
"I don't need to look. It's starting to get a little annoying that you and your buddy keep eye-fucking me in class. In case y'all missed it, that's not a real good way to make a good impression. You've already screwed up being friends – let alone anything else – so you can quit already. The only thing I want from you is to be left alone. You can tell that to the goon squad." I waved my hand at the door the brass Adonis had just disappeared through.
Luke's head whipped around, confusion on his face. "Gabe? I thought all chicks loved big, blonde, and beautiful."
"Yeah? Well, don't get your hopes up." The look I raked over his body made it clear he fit into that category, then I turned to head toward the room – but Luke grabbed my arm. His fingers were almost as gentle as Death's. That was the only reason I didn't scream.
"I wasn't," he assured me. "I don't typically have a thing for the same girls as my best friend." He barely lifted his eyebrow, daring me to beg him to explain.
I didn't need to. Sam had said something similar. "Figured Nick would have better taste in friends. Let me go."
His hand jerked back quickly, his jaw clenching in annoyance. "Definitely will tip better next time."
"It wasn't the fucking tip!" I snapped. "Has it ever crossed your mind that I might care about more than how much money you have, whether or not your buddy likes my hair, or how many times the weirdo over there eyes me up? I'm not into big, blonde, and psychotic, got it? I just prefer men who have a little respect for the women they talk to, so all three of y'all can fuck off already."
From the expression on his face, he didn't have a clue what I was talking about. "I thought you and Nick were a thing?"
"We are! Your little carbon copy here, and this Mike guy y'all grew up with? Yeah, I don't know what family tree y'all fell from, but it needs to start branching a little, got it? Just stay the fuck away from me. I don't care if that's in class, when I come to see Nick, or any other time you think you could be around me. Don't. And stop grabbing me while you're at it."
Clutching my bag tightly, I stormed through the doorway. Yep, I was going to get to class early, but better that than having to be around this guy one second longer. When he followed me in a few seconds later and sat across the room, I decided he must have gotten the hint.
∞∞∞
Thankfully, Nick didn't ask about my problem with Luke. When I got to Calculus, he was shocked enough to see me that it never came up. Then again, Luke may not have gotten the chance to tell him, but at least I'd be able to figure out why I disliked the guy so much. The truth was I didn't know. He just made my skin crawl when he was around – just like Gabe and Mike. Getting to know them was something I had zero interest in, even if it meant I ended up acting like a shallow bitch.
Unfortunately, I didn't really get the chance to talk to Nick. After class, I had to rush home and get ready for work. A little makeup covered the bags under my eyes. A little more made me look ready to serve drinks on a Wednesday night. Not that the bar would be busy, but I needed every tip I could get. When I reached for a necklace, my fingers closed on a gothic piece made by a friend in high school. A tiny pewter figure looked into a mirror and the reflection showed a skeleton. It seemed all too fitting.
Clasping the choker around my neck, I caught something from the corner of my eye. I spun – seeing nothing. I probably should've turned on some music to keep my mind from playing tricks on me, but it was too late now. I shimmied into the too-tight shirt that served as a uniform and grabbed my keys, heading for the door. I couldn't risk leaving late since I no longer had a car to get me anywhere. I sure as hell wasn't about to call for a ride.
Sam probably wouldn't mind. Nick would say he was glad to help, but I couldn't be sure if he was just polite or would actually mean it. I also didn't know their schedules. They had to have jobs. Renting a house like they had couldn't be cheap. As I put one foot in front of the other, heading back toward the campus, I thought about it. Just for a bit. Ok, for the entire two blocks. I made it with enough time to grab a burger and fries, shove it into my face, and still step behind the counter with two minutes to spare.
What I hadn't been able to do was convince myself that it was ok to put anyone else out over my stupid crap. For my entire life, I'd been the only person I could rely on. Just because a couple of good-looking guys had come to see me in the hospital didn't mean they'd be ok with acting like my babysitters. Besides, I had Death. He'd handle the big things, like making sure I didn't become some horrible statistic.
Today, the bar was hopping. Days like this, I wouldn't have to worry about my amazing interpersonal skills for at least a few more hours. Putting on my best impression of a flirtatious smile, I walked up to the next guy in line and got to work.
"What can I get you?"
The blonde turned – and I recognized his face immediately. I should've known. It seemed Murphy's Law was out to fuck with me a little. Mike, the guy Nick had gone out of his way to warn me about, the cheesy idiot with thoughtless nicknames, smiled at me over the counter. It was the kind of smile you'd expect a cat to have just before it broke the poor mouse's back. His eyes slipped to the necklace at my throat then to my cleavage, making no attempt to be subtle.
"Sex on the beach?" He looked up at me with vivid green eyes. I hadn't noticed the color before, but his eyes were the exact same eerie shade as the two creeps in my Writing class.
"Coming up." I couldn't even force myself to sound happy about it.
I turned, grabbed a bottle from the shelf and whipped it together. Sliding the finished drink across the bar, I quoted him a price and moved on to the next customer as quickly as I could. Naturally, Mike didn't take the hint. Oh no, he found a chair at the edge of the bar, right next to where the glasses were kept, and planted himself there. That meant I had to pass right in front of him over and over.
I tried to ignore it. At first, that wasn't easy, but as I got into the flow, I became too busy to care. Mix, smile, give drink, smile, get tip. That was all I focused on, making sure I did my best to spend more time with the guys who weren't trying to flirt than those who were. Mike just sat there the whole time, slowly sipping his drink.
"Come here often?" he asked as I made about the fortieth trip down the bar.
"Yeah. It's called a job."
"Ouch. I'm striking out fast on this one, aren't I?"
Yes, yes he was, but I couldn't get away with that while on the clock. Being defensive was a bad habit I'd picked up in the foster system. If I wanted to keep this job, then I had to at least be civil, so I decided to make an effort. A very small one.
"Just trying to keep the clients happy, Mike."
"At least you remember my name." He pushed the empty glass toward me. "Maybe a Jack and Coke this time?"
"I can do that." What I couldn't do was convince my face to smile at him.
I mixed a few drinks for another customer then finished Mike's, taking it over to him. He slid across a few bucks. "Keep the change, sexy."
Wow, a buck and a few quarters for a tip. Such a big spender. It wouldn't have bothered me at all if he hadn't tried to make such a big deal about it, but this guy already had me on edge.
Why was it that when Nick called me sexy, my heart beat faster, but when Mike said it, my skin crawled? What had this guy done to make me hate him so much? For all I knew, he could be a decent enough guy, right? Maybe I had this whole thing all wrong. Clearly, I was the one with the attitude problem, but I was kinda ok with that. I mean, I'm sure the guy who'd put a gun to my head had been "decent" to some people, too.
Mike must have seen me pause. "So what would it take to get a date with you?"
"I'm not really looking," I said quickly, turning back to the next customer.
Being professional sure didn't mean I had to go out with the creep. As far as I cared, he should just be glad I didn't hose him down with the bar tap. Hell, the prick probably thought his tip had bought his way into my pants or something stupid, but that was not how I worked.
Unfortunately, he wasn't dissuaded easily. Biding his time, he didn't say a thing until I ended up back by his corner. "Tomorrow night? Let me take you out for dinner?"
I shook my head, already moving on to the next order. "Sorry. Got a date tomorrow." I didn't, but lying was the best I could come up with to not be an ass about refusing.
I glanced back as the words were out of my mouth just in time to see the rage pass over his face. Mike stood, dropping his drink on the counter hard. Clearly, anything short of blind acceptance was not at all what he wanted.
"It's Nick, isn't it?" He leaned closer, pointing at my necklace, making me take a step back at the sudden change in him. "He's not what he seems, Sienna. That bastard is lying to you."
That's when the jock I was trying to get a beer for decided to step in. Turning, he put the full width of his shoulders between me and the asshole who wasn't taking no for an answer. Then he crossed his arms.
"Back off, bud. If the bartender said no, then you need to respect that."
"Fuck off," Mike snapped at him. "This is between her and me."
"Not anymore." He looked over Mike's head and waved. "See, I know the bouncer at this place, and what you're doing? Not cool."
"Oh, I don't give up easy. I know what I want, Sienna," Mike sneered over the guy's shoulder.
The jock stayed there, planted like a protective shield until Tom came and escorted Mike out of the bar. The moment he turned back, I slid an ice cold bottle of beer over to him. "Thanks, man. This one's on me for being my hero."
He lifted the bottle and tilted it toward me. "Anytime, hun. Try not to work too hard."
The truth was I didn't even care about that. My mind was stuck on something Mike had said. He claimed Nick was lying to me, but I had no idea what he meant. I didn't even know Nick that well. Oh, I wanted to, but we'd only gone out once. Twice if you counted ditching class for a coffee.
Clearly, there was no love lost between any of those guys. They'd probably dated the same girl at some time, or tried to, and were still fighting it out like a couple of high school boys. Nick, at least, had a little more class. Mike seemed to think treating me like a piece of meat was the quickest way into my pants, and he was oh so wrong. Nothing turned me off like a self-assured asshole, and that's exactly how Mike was looking right about now.
Maybe I'd been right to go with my gut after all.