11. HOMEWORK
PANDORA
My headache disappeared with Dominic’s kisses.
Freaking A!
The man’s a wizard. I’ve been in Deepsilver for nine days, and already I’m a bumbling idiot, just craving someone’s touch.
Stranger sex. Shannon’s expression from Nonstop Fitness hits me with its grim truth. One-night stand after one-night stand. If it’s with the same person, is it still called that?
I stare down at the calculus book in front of me. This should be easy; I’ve got a knack for this. Instead of studying, though, I think of Dominic. He was so mad on the phone last night. Then, he blew me off…
My nipples pucker as I recall the way he trapped me at the gym. His lips, always his lips. I can’t seem to get them out of my head. But if I am to remain a straight-A student like I was in high school and keep my parents at arm’s length, I’ve got to get a grip.
“Are you done yet?” Mica plops down on the other barstool in the kitchen. She’s jittery with unspent energy. “Let’s do something after you finish, ’kay?”
The blank page in my notebook glares at me, and Mica’s gaze floats down too. “Nothing after two hours? Um.”
“Hey, you guys have watched TV, danced, had a popcorn fight—”
“—while you decided to not use the desk in your room for homework,” Destiny finishes over Mica’s shoulder.
This morning, no sign of their sleep-embrace remained in the den, and I almost doubted my own eyes. Until now. “You’re ganging up on me. What’s going on?” I ask.
“Oh, nuh-huh—never, Wifey!” Mica exclaims, her eyes widening with fake surprise. She leans in and gives me one of the giant bear hugs that conflict with her fragile-looking stature.
As soon as we returned from the gym, Shannon bee-lined out with Christian. She’s been gone all day, but now she bursts in the door with our favorite bartender right behind her. I swear her eyes glitter. Someone’s had a good date!
“Kids!” Mica claps her hands and rushes in for a group hug. Christian clearly isn’t aware they’re mandated as far as Mica’s concerned. “Welcome home. I’m glad you brought her back before she turned into a pumpkin.”
“That’s the carriage, not the princess,” Destiny says.
“Right. Mice! She could have poofed into a bunch of mice, Christian. Can you imagine?” Mica looks horrified at the prospect, and Shannon giggles like a little girl.
Once Mica is done with them, Christian smiles politely and accepts a Coke at the breakfast counter. “Homework?” he asks, nodding in the direction of my empty pages.
“Yeah. I’m off my game today.”
Always.
“So, Pan,” Shannon starts. “Christian wants to talk with you about something—someone. I told him you’re with Dominic, but—”
I gasp. “Am not!”
Three BFFs stare at me simultaneously.
“Sure,” Shannon amends. “You’re not ‘going steady’ or anything yet—” She makes air quotes to distance herself from the Stone Age expression.
“Yet? Shannon, no!”
“No worries, Pandora.” Christian shrugs at me, slipping into the personable yet businesslike mode of his profession, but Shannon cuts in.
“Please talk with her, Christian?”
“Can we go outside?” he asks me.
I lead him out onto the small, wrought-iron balcony overlooking the street. Shannon stays inside with the others, and I don’t know what to think about this.
I pop a finger in my mouth and start nibbling while Christian leans over the railing. For a moment, he stares out over the dimly lit shopping street. Then, he cuts to the chase with no introduction.
“You need to keep off Leon’s radar.”
“Leon?” I feel my eyebrows shoot up. “All we did was flirt a little bit. I swear, literally for five minutes.”
Christian turns, his greyish green eyes meeting mine. “He’s curious about you, Pandora. You don’t want that in the first place, but now that it’s happened, you better lie low. I suggest you take a break from Smother.”
“Yeah, NGH.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not gonna happen,” I spell out. “Christian, I appreciate your concern, but Smother kicks ass. It’s my new, favorite second home.”
Christian studies me. “Right. What Shannon told me you’d say. Pandora, just stay away from Leon, okay?”
“Why? He’s interesting.”
He glides a hand over the banister. “Leon likes his girls…” Long, strong fingers grip around it as he searches for the right word. “Broken.”
My mouth drops open with surprise. “You’re insinuating that I’m broken? That’s pretty rude, don’t you think?”
“No, that came out wrong. I’m saying Leon’s girls end up broken. Most are already broken when he selects them. Others, because of whatever potential he sees in them, he personally breaks.”
No way. Leon is a mystery to me, but he wouldn’t be hiding that kind of secret. Would he? Goose bumps prickle my neck.
I can’t not ask: “How does he, um, break them?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure, but I’ve worked for Leon for years so I’ve been around quite a few of his women. They adore him, depend on him, and when he tires of them, shit hits the fan.”
“What do you mean?”
Christian shakes his head. “Let’s just say no one goes peacefully.”
His gaze floats to mine. “I’ll be candid, Pandora: I don’t think you’d fit the bill as ‘broken,’ but you do come off as… untamed. To Leon, that might be a challenge.
“He spent too much time on you last night,” he continues. “Leon always keeps his girl close, but yesterday he sent his latest squeeze home. Tread carefully around him, okay?”
Christian seems like a nice guy, and I’m happy for Shannon, but the stuff he says sounds like something straight from a movie. The urge to giggle is overwhelming.
Either way, I’m not interested in guys at the moment. I can’t even handle my one-nighters with Dominic and concentrate on classes at the same time. I’m freaking daydreaming about him!
My phone buzzes. It’s a tense, stress-filled sound. Even without individualized ringtones for texts, my instincts have never led me wrong with Mom.
“Sorry. Gotta take this one so they don’t have a meltdown.”
“Parents?” Christian retreats on the balcony and twists to smile at me from the door.
I nod slowly. “Yup.”
“Hello.” I sound whiny, and Mom doesn’t like the attitude on display. No need to weather her complaints alone, I figure, so I follow Christian to the kitchen where the others wait. I switch to Disney-happy, but Mom only partially buys it.
As much as I hate school talk from her, I’m relieved to hear her move on to grilling me about classes. Yes, they go well. Sure, teachers are okay.
Mica builds a big ol’ sandwich, and my stomach rumbles at the sight. She smirks when she hears me answer Mom’s question about new friends from my classes. It’s like I’m in first grade.
“Tell her you’ve had a new pal sleeping over already.” Mica bats her lashes.
“Shut. Up,” I mouth back, and she laughs heartily.
“Is that Mica?” Mom asks.
“Mmyeah. She’s being silly again.” Mom’s soft spot for Mica makes no sense, since most of the trouble I got into in high school had Mica’s fingerprints on it.
Destiny comes to my rescue. “Give her a break, Mica.” She says it with a forgiving grin, though, and I forget to concentrate on my parental interrogation when Mica smiles back; they’re literally beaming at each other.
What the hell?
“So, Dad is considering a visit next weekend,” Mom says and I’m back, so back in the conversation.
“Mom—I love you, but I don’t have time. Tons of homework and stuff, and… next weekend we have a—”
I’m grasping for straws, eyes flickering nervously and settling on Shannon.
“A philosophy excursion,” she says. I repeat her suggestion automatically and realize too late how dumb it sounds. Clutching the chattering phone, I throw my arms out at her in a “what-the-frick” gesture, and Mica’s bent over laughing.
Yes, Mother. We’re going to Ancient Greece.
Once my mom hangs up, I’m done. With her and with homework—everything boring.
I want to go out.
Christian has the night off and suggests we head to a small bar a block away called The Blood Bank. “Gross,” Shannon mumbles, eyeing the décor. Every surface, picture frame, and piece of knick-knack is red; even the bartenders wear scarlet uniforms.
Christian knows the employees, so they brush off the fake ID Shannon tries to show them.
I’m the only one drinking tonight. The others stick with Cokes and Shirley Temples—even Mica. I keep it to a few beers, but before we head home at midnight, I put in a fake lap dance for Shannon and break a table.
Sam, the cutish bartender, is cool. He winks and agrees the table should have supported me just fine. I wasn’t even dancing on it; all I did was lead a toast in honor of college life.
On the walk back to the apartment, Destiny and Mica link me between them.
“Geez, do guys here have a thing for rowdy children or what? You got away with murder with that bartender,” Destiny explains, like I need to hear this.
“Not!” I haven’t decided what I disagree with most: the murder or the rowdy-child part.
“Some like them wild.” Christian ambles behind us, an arm around Shannon. I know whom he’s talking about—
“Like Leon, for instance. Be careful, Pandora. At least make sure not to be alone with him. Stick with your friends.”
Great, cue in my besties.
“Oh right, like the other time.” Mica shoots in, her voice lowering with annoyance.
“Yeah, you can’t do that again. What if Dominic weren’t one of the good ones?” Destiny’s stare penetrates me from the side.
“Bah, I’ve said I’m sorry…”
“What did she do?” Christian asks Shannon.
“She told us to wait at the exit while she went to use the restroom at Smother. Only she didn’t. You had introduced her to Dominic five minutes before—”
“Nu-huh, that happened hours earlier.”
“Yeah, whatever! Then, she took off through the window with him. We didn’t know where she was until she texted Mica at four a.m.”
Christian lets out a puff of air behind me. It sounds ominous. “Wow. So, you could have been raped, killed, or kidnapped.”
I really don’t like this conversation.
“You guys are worse than my parents.” I try to free myself from Mica and Destiny, but they both tighten their grips.
“Holy crap,” Mica barks out. “Trying to stop you from dying is being worse than your mom now?”
“Shit! Just—enough, already.” I’m getting claustrophobic. Ever since the first time Dad grounded me in my walk-in closet—
Fuck.
My lip quivers.
“Just shut up,” I mumble.
Destiny sees how I am. She always notices before anyone else. “Okay—okay, Pandora. Calm down. We worry is all. Mica, let go.”
Mica listens but crosses her arms, angry. She stomps ahead and punches in the code for the front door.
With the back of my sleeve, I dry my face. My makeup is running. Oh well. Destiny produces a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at me too.
Tonight, I pull my stash of fresh light bulbs out from under my bed. I prop the box up on my chair and swivel it toward me so I can see it. I let my gaze caress each still-wrapped bulb: 60-watts, 45-watts, and 25-watts. My favorite is the giant 90-watter I’ll never use. It’s so bright, though, I know it is. I exhale my relief.
I leave the lamp on my nightstand lit when I go to sleep. Even though the darkness in this room will never be as thick, as suffocating as in my closet at home.
Free.