CHAPTER TWO
Owen
had to park two streets over. Once the car was off, I could not force myself to open the door. Hundreds of people were going to Sienna's funeral. They walked past my car in their expensive black dresses and hand-tailored suits. It took all I had not to start the car and drive away.
Sienna hated my car. It was the same old, black Porsche I had bought from my father's mechanic when I turned sixteen. The seats were cracked, the exterior paint so worn it had lost its shine, and the dozens of dings marred the body. Still, the engine purred when it started. And, it pissed off both Sienna and my father. I loved that car.
Sienna wanted everything to be perfect. If it worked but did not look good, then it would never be good enough for her. On the flip side, she was willing to put up with broken things that were beautiful. That was the reason I could not get out of the car.
Her family made me uncomfortable. Sienna's mother was always way up or way down. One day, I saw her with her face streaked with tears and smeared make-up. A few hours after that, she was beaming as she belted out "Sweet Caroline" at the local bakery.
Mr. Thomas was worse. He was a high-powered lawyer who never turned off his killer instinct for arguments. I once told him I was looking forward to the nice weather over the weekend. He looked up three forecasts and the farmer's almanac to prove me wrong. Sienna had just rolled her eyes at me and canceled my idea for a picnic.
Still, they were a beautiful family with a beautiful house in beautiful Summerlin and Sienna loved them. I could not imagine facing them without her.
What if they knew what had happened?
I stopped again at the foot of the driveway. It was a safe bet Sienna's family would not care if I did not make an appearance. Her father would probably prefer it. I was about to turn around when I saw Quinn.
She was carrying a huge spray of flowers towards the back entrance. Despite her removal from the front door crowd, a couple still stopped her to express their condolences. As she sank under the weight of the flowers, they unloaded their guilt at being more fortunate than her and her family. I could have punched the man for dabbing at his appropriately wet eyes instead of taking the heavy vase from her.
As much as I wanted to turn around and never see these people again, I could not leave. If Quinn was handling it, so could I.
I strode up and took the flowers from her without a word.
"That's the boyfriend," the man's wife whispered as I headed for the back entrance.
I pulled open the door and held it for Quinn. When I looked back to see if she was coming, I felt as if everyone from the driveway was staring at me. Somehow, they all knew what I had done. They knew it was my fault. Sienna was dead, they needed someone to blame, and I was the guy.
"Thank you," Quinn said. She led the way in the back door and to the formal dining room. The long table was covered in tasteful flower arrangements.
The scent of lilies made me sick, but we were the only ones in the room. I would have stayed amongst that sickly sweet stench all night if it was just the two of us. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."
She waved a delicate hand. "We said all of that on the phone. I'm just glad you're here." She gave me a quick hug and retreated into the full front parlor.
I took a deep breath and followed her into the crowd. Quinn slipped like a stranger through the people gathered there. She was right there in the family portrait on the wall, but all anyone could ever see was Sienna. Even when she was gone, she stole the limelight.
"Is there anything else I can help with?" I asked.
Quinn blinked up at me with her chocolate brown eyes. She glanced around to make sure I was speaking to her. "Not really. Not now."
"Have you gone in to view the body?" I asked. It was a shit question, but I could not take it back.
Quinn shook her head, so I held out my arm. Her cheeks blushed as she looked nervously from side to side. Sienna's little sister was clearly not used to being noticed. "Don't worry. They're staring at me. If I'm not falling apart just right or keeping it together well enough, they'll dock my score," I said.
She pulled her lips in to stop a smile. "Or they're thinking how nasty I am putting the moves on my sister's boyfriend." Her cheeks burned brighter.
"They don't know how long we've known each other. They don't know I've seen Pretty Pony sheets on your bed," I said.
"They don't know that you made me pick out Sienna's Valentine’s gifts every year since you two started dating."
"I gave you boxes of chocolates every year," I reminded her.
"M&Ms wrapped in Post-It Notes."
"With pass codes and Easter Eggs."
"My favorite," she admitted.
We stopped in the viewing line. I knew I should let go of her, but I kept her arm tucked tightly against me. She leaned on my arm in the crush of people and did not try to pull it free.
"Speaking of Easter Eggs," I said, "remember that time Sienna got mad at me for dying eggs wrong?"
"You mixed the colors until it was dark brown and told her you were making rabbit turds," Quinn said. She chewed her lip to hide another smile.
"She kicked us both out of the kitchen for laughing. We ended up eating jelly beans and playing Vice City until one in the morning."
Quinn gave a ragged sigh. "Sienna dyed the most perfect Easter Eggs. She blew the yokes out and everything. I always tried to save the prettiest until the next year. Until she pointed out I could just take pictures. I think I still have some stashed away."
"What? Pictures of eggs?"
Quinn shook her head and said nothing. Only Quinn would carefully preserve something as delicate as a hollow egg. To her, they were treasures to be saved. I loved how she treasured things. Sienna always treated everything like a prototype to be tossed away in the hopes the next one would be better.
"Owen, we're so glad you came. Have you signed the guestbook yet?" Mr. Thomas asked. He took my elbow and guided me out of line.
Quinn slipped her arm out and opened her mouth to stop her father.
He shook his head at her. "It would mean so much to us if you'd put down a few words about Sienna. You knew her so well."
Once we were out of Quinn's hearing, he hissed in my ear. "Nice of you to come, but you're upsetting my wife. Sign the guestbook and go."
Mr. Thomas dropped my arm and went to greet better guests. I rubbed my elbow and realized he had shoved me towards the door. There was no guestbook that I could see.
Instead, there were large collages of Sienna. Her photogenic life had been carefully curated and mounted to best highlight her successes. Other guests gushed over the beauty and the achievements, but I could not see it.
A proud picture of her with a glistening show horse and a trophy looked perfect. I cringed as I remembered Sienna telling me how she hated her first horse. She lied and told the trainer it had bitten her so she could ride a better one. The trainer had taken her at her word and sold the horse to a trail ride farm up north.
Her prize science fair display looked like the perfection of a curious and intelligent mind. To me, it signified being stood up two times in one week. Then, Sienna had accused me of trying to sabotage her work by guilting her.
Then, there was the bake sale photograph and accompanying newspaper article. I knew Quinn had baked those cookies. Hours after the fundraiser was over, Sienna refused to get out of her bed. She was so depressed at being outdone by someone else that she did not speak to Quinn for days.
Not only had Quinn let her older sister take the credit, she had spent days trying to lift Sienna out of her selfish funk. I had one foot out of the door but stopped. The least I could do was stay and make sure Quinn was alright.
She was standing off to the side in her own living room. Her mother and father had given her seat away to a prominent neighbor. I was partially disgusted by her parents' heartlessness. The other part was delighted that she was within reach.
"This seat taken?" I asked.
Quinn shifted along the wall and almost smiled. It faded as the hired priest moved to stand in front of the fireplace. The packed room grew quiet.
"A great light amongst us has gone out. And we may feel as empty and cold as this unlit fireplace," the priest gestured behind him awkwardly, "but together we will stay warm."
It’s 86 degrees out, I thought.
"Sienna Thomas was a caring, thoughtful, and ambitious woman. She had her sights set on becoming a surgeon so she could help those among us that needed to be healed," the priest said.
Quinn shifted from one foot to the other. She refused to look at me, but I knew the greeting card version of Sienna's life bothered her. Within days, her sister had sky-rocketed into sugar-coated memories and ideal assumptions. Her real sister was fading away.
"When her life was tragically struck down by a drunk driver on her college campus, we all felt a deep and abiding loss," the priest droned on.
Quinn stood up, her pale face covered in shock. I took her hand and squeezed. If she said something now, it would only ruin her. Sienna's memory was perfect, unmarred by the truth. There was no way Quinn could change that without destroying herself.
"It’s not right," she whispered to me.
"It’s easier for your parents, for everyone," I told her.
"I was there. I saw. Nothing's going to make that easier for me, especially not some lie that blames someone else for her death," Quinn hissed.
I held her hand harder. She had not given me many details on the phone. I certainly did not know Quinn had seen Sienna's body before the coroner covered her. My mind reeled the rest of the service.
I had no idea what bothered me the most about Quinn seeing Sienna like that. The crowd of mourners finally moved on through the dining room and into the backyard for refreshments. I found myself alone with a few stranglers ringed around the edge of the living room. I walked up to Sienna's open casket.
She looked perfect – her make-up a little too thick and her lips a little too red, but perfect.
"Hey, beautiful. Remember how a long time ago you asked me to tell you when you were behaving rotten? I gotta call you out one last time. You knew someone was going to find you. Either your roommate or your sister. What an awful thing to put on someone else. You didn't think of that, did you? You probably had this whole damned funeral planned down to the photographs and flowers. But you didn't think for one second what you'd be doing to other people. She saw you, Sienna. Like that. Makes me glad you're gone. You can't hurt me or Quinn anymore."
I stepped back and swiped away the angry tears. Across the room, closer than she should have been, Quinn stared at me wide-eyed. I swallowed hard and hoped she did not hear what I had said.
#
was time to go. I turned to make a break for the front door only to bump into a wall of former classmates.
"Weird high school reunion, huh?" Ben said. He had been the captain of the football team. The same irritated estimation from our teenage years was in his eyes as he looked me over. He still could not understand why Sienna chose me over him.
Ben was my height with buzzed brown hair. His square jaw and cleft chin could have put him in those mail order sweater catalogs. He'd gone on to college with a football scholarship and had not changed one bit.
"What are you up to these days?" he asked. "Is there a market for being too cool for school?"
His cronies, a trio of Ben knock-offs at various heights, laughed.
"I heard you're still hanging out at arcades or something, right?" the first crony asked.
"Something like that," I said. I tried to step past them.
"You were still with Sienna, weren't you?" Ben asked. "That is rough, man, just rough. You doing okay?"
The actual sincerity of his statement set me back a step. "I think I'm still in shock."
"No kidding. I could have imagined a dozen other people from our graduating class offing themselves, but not her." Ben scrubbed his cleft chin. "I keep thinking maybe it’s a joke. Like that time you swapped out the science dummies’ insides with lunch meat. Remember? You used food coloring to make the white rats have bloody mouths so it looked like they'd turned zombie or something?"
"Yeah," I said. "Sienna would never go for a fake-your-death-then-zombie-attack-your-own-funeral kind of joke."
"See, that's what I'm saying. I could never figure you two out," Ben said. He clapped an arm around my shoulder and forced me to join him on the back porch.
The yard was full of cliques I remembered from high school. I looked around and could not find one knot of people with a gravitational pull. It was the same when I was actually in high school. I drifted, had plenty of friends, but no one close, and people either thought that was really cool or really weird.
I played it off then like I was a rebel, but looking at the funeral reception, I did not have the energy. The truth was I did not care. Small talk, schmoozing, and keeping up appearances – that was all Sienna. She made me hit my limit and I could not go back.
"Shit, this looks miserable. Count me out," I said.
"So, what? That's it. Sienna dies and you head back to whatever basement you make your money from?" Ben asked. "Yeah, I know all about the gaming thing. Nice gig."
"Yeah, guess I have a talent for it."
"You're for real? No wonder Sienna was getting sick of you. She was heading off to be a surgeon and you're playing video games," he said. He unwrapped his arm and gave my shoulder a punch. "This your wake-up call or what?"
"Wake up to what?" I asked. "Learning to tie a tie and take Daddy's place behind a useless desk at the shipping company?"
"That's legit, man. A real job. Something my honey is proud of," Ben said. He nodded across the yard to a stick-thin bottle blonde. She waved like a terrier wags its tail. "I don't mean to hit you when you're down, man, but think about it. Maybe now's the time to do something with your life."
"Funerals bring out the philosophers," I said. "Good luck with all that." I waved to his girlfriend. She gave me a once over and a bright smile. I could hear Ben's teeth grinding.
"I don't get you, man. I just know you're going nowhere," he said. "Good luck with that." He clapped me on the shoulder one more time and led his trio off the patio into the grass.
Their next stop was Sienna's father. I snorted, remembering the last conversation I had with him before today. It had been remarkably similar to Ben's topic of choice: my lack of career. They just did not understand that my world was not theirs. That was what made people uncomfortable. Succeeding on the screens and high scores of the gaming world was not obvious to the rest of the world, especially to non-gamers, so they assumed I was floundering.
It drove Sienna insane that my source of income sounded so childish. At parties, she avoided talking about what I did as long as possible. I was not a tested, accepted, and career-tracked college student. In her circles of high achievers, that was impossible to understand. Throw in the whole making money playing video games bit and they looked at Sienna as if she was joking.
Still, she wanted to be the perfect pre-med package and that included the high school sweetheart. I kept her from having to deal with flirtations and distractions. But after the third campus mixer, she realized I was more a blight on her image than a help. While she made up stories about me traveling or finding consulting work, or whatever other vague label she could slap over me, I became a success.
I glanced around the funeral reception and shook my head. Even if Sienna and I had stayed together, she would not have cheered my success. The gamer world was prone to mockery, outsiders did not understand it, and Sienna wanted something that was obvious. I always thought she'd end up with a luxury car salesman. Or maybe a real estate agent. Someone subservient to her career but dependable, upstanding, and normal.
Disgusting.
I could not help but see an overlay of Dark Flag. Ben would try to gather a clan and it would work, but they would die within days, routed by underlings, cleaned out by thieves, or razed by a ruthless leader that did not care about appearances. It was the kind of world where small talk had burned away in the apocalypse. All that mattered was finding your inborn talents and using them to survive.
I could not take on any desk job or career track that forced me to mimic rote skills. I could not pretend to be content with a day job. I wanted to use my talents, not store them in bins in the garage for the occasional hobby.
Maybe if I had explained it better to Sienna, maybe if I'd given her a rundown of my success, she could have come around. Did it matter that we'd end up in the same place, only together? We'd still be at some backyard party with me on my own and nothing to say. Except she might still be alive.
The thought burned down my throat and into my stomach like a shot of whiskey. I turned to see if there was anything to drink, anything to kill the feeling of guilt. A hired bartender in a crisp white shirt stood behind the counter of the outdoor kitchen.
He looked bored, mostly pouring iced tea, and I startled him. "Please say you have whiskey."
"Irish wakes are my specialty," he said. He poured the shot and left the bottle on the counter for me.
"Can I have a, um, another?" Quinn said. She glanced away from me.
I watched as the bartender poured her a diet soda, swept the whiskey bottle out of sight to add a splash, then gave her a lime twist. He handed me back the bottle and Quinn watched as I poured myself another shot. I toasted her before I tipped it back neat.
"Lots of people from high school," I said.
"At least they remember you," Quinn said. "Sienna always hated that I could not make a better impression at social gatherings." She stood up straight and took a step before her shoulders slumped and she turned back to the bar for support. "She always gave me the best advice and I never took it."
"And now you think if you had, things might have been different?" I asked. "You can't do that. It doesn't work that way."
"What doesn't?"
"Life."
"So, it's not worth thinking about?" Quinn asked. Her chocolate brown eyes took on a hard edge.
"No, it’s just there are too many answers to 'what if' and none of them can change what happened," I said.
"Why are people always so wise and philosophical at funerals?" She gulped her drink and held out the glass for another. "This is why I'm done talking with people. I'm not searching for answers or trying to see the silver lining. I'm just trying to survive."
Quinn thanked the bartender, took her refill, and disappeared into the house. I took two steps to follow her before Mrs. Thomas appeared and blocked my way.
"Owen Redd, we weren't sure you were coming," she said.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Thomas. I should have stopped by sooner." I looked longingly at the whiskey bottle but knew it was not a good idea to drink in front of Sienna's mother.
Mrs. Thomas had a tendency to overdo everything. She threw herself wholeheartedly into any activity, from chronicling Sienna's successes to redecorating the house to having a few drinks to celebrate her daughter's accomplishments. A few always turned into too many. Or sometimes, it took no drinking at all for her to shift from high speed to sinking ship. Her mood could swing to dire melancholy, and I worried the gentle smile on her lips was a thin facade.
"You probably knew our daughter best of all and yet no one understands why you two were together." She stared over my shoulder at the bartender until he brought her a glass of white wine. "I used to think of you like the moon, just drifting around her and catching her light. She was the sun, Owen, the bright golden sun." Her breath hitched. "No. A shooting star, I guess."
"She was golden," I said.
"I get it, you know," Mrs. Thomas said. "I get how Sienna could go from way up there to way down here." She looked at the ground and swayed. "I feel it too. Everything lifts you up, up, up and then the air is too thin, you can't breathe, and you crash down. She just wasn't supposed to fall. Someone was supposed to be there to catch her."
She looked up and the flash of hatred was sharp. I pulled back the hand I held out to steady her. Mrs. Thomas blamed me. No wonder Sienna's father had asked me to leave. The longer I stayed, the more people would feel the same way.
I was supposed to be with Sienna. I was supposed to know how she was doing. I should have seen it coming and stopped her. I should have loved her enough to keep her from it.
No one knew I wasn't even with Sienna. But it did not matter anymore.
I dodged past Mrs. Thomas without another word. Anything would set her off. She was hoping I would and followed me inside. I knew Sienna's mother needed a reason for a scene; she was just keeping it together. I slipped down the side hallway and flipped the light on in the guest bathroom as I went. I shut the door and leapt around the corner just as she came after me. Luckily, the door to the basement was cracked open and I was able to slip downstairs without a sound.
The lights were off except for a bluish glow at the bottom of the stairs. I stepped lightly down and discovered Quinn sitting on the edge of the old leather sofa. She leaned forward as she furiously tapped the video controller. On the large screen television, the world of Dark Flag came into focus.
I stepped around the corner so I could not be seen from the top of the stairs, but I did not say a word. For just a moment, I wanted to watch Quinn in my world. It was like seeing a stranger on the moon and realizing she had always been there.
#
leaned on the doorframe. It would not be long before Mrs. Thomas decided to look in the basement. I should have gone out the front door. I should have left, but something made me stay. With Sienna gone, I knew once I left that house, I would have no reason to come back. And I wanted a reason.
It was Quinn. In the darkened basement, I could think about it. Just for a moment. In the bluish light from the video game screen, I allowed myself to look at her.
Her chestnut brown hair was thick and soft. It fell in waves to the middle of her back, loose and free. It was the kind of hair I wanted to scoop into my hands. It would run through my fingers like silk. Against her black dress, it was warm with streaks of gold.
The dress was sleeveless, showing the graceful reach of her arms. Quinn was slender and athletic, despite the soft curves of her body. Her arms showed taut muscles as she shifted the controller and tapped in sequences. Long delicate fingers that could have played the piano or performed surgery flew over the controller.
She leaned forward again, concentrating on the game. In the light from the television screen, I could see her full lips parted. As she focused on a difficult move, her tongue swept across her lower lip. She made me think of ripe strawberries.
I met her a month after Sienna and I started dating. Her hair was loose, her arms looked too long, and her chocolate brown eyes were so wide. For all her teenage awkwardness, Quinn was confident.
"You're dating my sister?" she had asked. "Do you play football?"
"No."
"Basketball?"
"No," I had said.
She had tipped her head, those chestnut waves sweeping over her arm. "What do you do?"
"I don't know, video games?"
Quinn had laughed – a free, unpracticed sound. "With Sienna? She hates video games. You must be a good kisser."
Quinn had always been easy to talk to, despite the gap in our ages. She was a freshman when Sienna and I were seniors in high school. I remembered hearing the other guys talk about Sienna's hot younger sister. It had made my blood boil. They did not know her like I did. Quinn was more than just attractive. She was quick-witted, interesting, and guileless.
Where Sienna always had an agenda, an angle, or a desired outcome, Quinn was different. She was genuinely interested in people, not for what they could do for her but because she liked them. She was friends with everyone. Sienna had an exclusive list of people she would be seen with, but Quinn was more like me. Not loners, just not defined by the tight clans of high school territory.
"She's driving me crazy," Sienna had said many times. "I mean, she went to the movies with this nerdy guy. She could have gone out with the first baseman of the baseball team."
"Not into the whole dating thing?" I had asked Quinn when she was a freshman in high school. We sat on the worn leather sofa in her parents' basement playing video games while Sienna did her make-up for a pep rally.
Quinn had shrugged. "Sienna makes it sound like a competition. I'd rather just sit here and beat you at Mario Kart."
I did not tell her then, but I preferred the same thing. There had been too many nights when all I wanted to do was hang out with Quinn. I leaned on the doorframe and called myself a coward.
She must have heard my heavy sigh. "Owen? How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be impressed with your use of the frost sword," I said.
Quinn paused the game. "Yeah, right. An expert like you. I probably did one hundred things wrong back in that glen."
"Well, there is a secret passage in one of the trees, but you were a little busy with that ogre." I slipped onto the couch next to her.
"Is it wrong that all I wanted to do all day was escape down here?" Quinn asked.
I resisted the urge to brush her chestnut curls off her bare shoulder. "I don't think anyone would judge you for that. It’s surreal up there."
"All the almost crying but not actually, because women don't want their mascara to run. All the cheery stories about Sienna, even from people who called her the b-word to her face," Quinn said. "Perfect pictures, perfect flowers, perfect conversations – I'm not sure I'd call that reality."
"Sienna would have loved it."
Quinn gave a short laugh that ended on a jagged sigh. "She would be so mad about me hiding out here. I should be trolling the guests for a good date."
"'I don't need a date; we're good,'" I quoted her.
"Every time Sienna caught us down here playing video games." Quinn gave a ghost of a smile.
"You know, I was being honest. You're getting pretty good," I said. I picked up the second controller and tossed it between my hands.
"You don't need to lie to me," she said.
"And you look beautiful in that dress and your hair looks great long," I said. I nudged her with my shoulder. "Now can I compliment your playing or should I keep going about you?"
Quinn never believed me when I told her she was beautiful. It had almost turned into a game. I wondered if she heard compliments so rarely that she never knew what to do. Sienna got the compliments, the praise, and the bragging stories from their parents.
I told myself it was good for Quinn. Really, it was just a way to say what was on my mind. I would have gone crazy if I could not have told her somehow.
"Compared to you, I'm just stumbling around Dark Flag," Quinn said.
"On great legs," I said. It took a moment before I could tear my eyes off them.
"Oh, shut up, Owen. Tell me where that secret passage is. I'm heading back to the glen."
I slumped back on the couch and started the second controller. Within seconds, my avatar was with her in the glen. "I'll fend off the ogre, you look for the secret passage. I'm not just giving away secrets for free."
"Oh my God, where are all these people coming from?" Quinn asked. Multiple players appeared on the screen.
"My clan. I rallied some of the best players I ran across and we've made a good team," I said.
"Yeah, I read about you. Nice cover shot," Quinn said. "No pimples, extra weight, or worm-like pallor. You're changing the face of gaming."
"Hey, I'm not taking a compliment if you can't," I said.
"It sounded like the journalist was smitten," Quinn nudged me with her elbow. "She described you as having the shoulders and muscle tone of Captain America and the skills of an extreme gamer."
"At least someone noticed."
"Looks like a lot of people have noticed. I've never played with a clan before. So, are you a professional gamer now?" Quinn asked.
"I entered a few tournaments last year and did really well, got a couple of sponsors. Now that the article came out, I got bigger sponsors. It’s enough to live on," I said.
"That's amazing, Owen. Congratulations," she said. She paused her player and kissed my cheek.
I let the warmth melt some of the tension in my stomach. It was the first time I had actually said it out loud. My parents knew I was doing just fine. My roommate knew I paid all the bills. Still, I had not admitted to anyone but Quinn that I was now a professional gamer.
"Did Sienna know?" Quinn asked.
"Watch this. When three or more players join together, you can actually take over the ogre and control its actions," I said.
We disappeared into the game for a while. All the sadness and confusion from upstairs could not penetrate the world of Dark Flag. For a moment, Quinn and I felt light, free, and happy.
Her eyes sparkled as she soaked up the new moves. In her excitement, Quinn bumped her knee against my leg. Her little black dress was drifting up her thigh. It was a good thing the controller needed two hands.
"Quinn? Are you down there again?" Mrs. Thomas called.
"Yes. Sorry, Mother."
"Is that Owen bum with you?"
Quinn looked at me. Empathy made her eyes darker. Then her lips quirked up, my conspirator from our high school days. "No. I haven't seen him. Maybe he's up in Sienna's room."
We heard Mrs. Thomas' footsteps on the stairs. "Well, if he hasn't left and comes skulking down here, tell him I'm looking for him. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Everyone knows he was never right for our Sienna."
"Sienna loves, I mean, loved him," Quinn said. Her voice faded.
Mrs. Thomas ignored her daughter and stomped back upstairs. "Sienna loved a challenge. What a waste. Speaking of waste, stop messing around with that stupid game. You have a chance to visit with Sienna's friends."
It was as if Mrs. Thomas sucked all the air out of the room. Quinn was deflated, and I could tell her mind was on her sister. I felt the weight settling back on my shoulders. It took too much strength to lift my arms and restart the game. The other players disappeared as we stayed offline.
"I'm so sorry, Quinn," I said.
She did not say a word, just leaned against my shoulder. I slipped my arm around her and pulled her close. I tried to sweep her hair back to see her face, but she buried it against my suit. I pressed my cheek against the top of her head and held her.
Quinn's breath was ragged, but she did not cry. "She couldn't have meant it. It had to be an accident."
"Your mom was right. Sienna was a shooting star."
"Sometimes, I hated her for it," Quinn said. "She was always trying to change me, make me better, make me more like her. I tried. I just wasn't good enough."
"She was wrong to try to change you," I said. I hugged Quinn tighter. "You didn't do anything wrong. You loved your sister and underneath it all, she loved you, too."
"We should have known. Everyone thinks it. My mother told me last night I should have done something," Quinn said.
"What could we have done? How could we have known? Sienna never shared her plans for herself. She only told people how to play their parts."
I was angry again. Sienna threw us into this horrible drama without a second thought. She had never thought about anyone but herself.
"I was going to be the nurse to her surgeon," Quinn said. She sat up and swept back her hair. It smelled of rose water.
"And I was supposed to be the trophy husband to her successful career woman," I said.
"Except you were supposed to go off and coach little league or join the Rotary Club. Not go and get professional sponsors to play video games," Quinn said.
"Yeah, I went off script."
"Me too," Quinn said. "I almost failed gross anatomy. You should have seen Sienna's face when I bombed the practice final."
"What are we going to do without Sienna here to organize us?" I asked. My arm was still around Quinn's shoulders. I didn't let go.
"Sit on the couch and play video games," she said with a weak smile.
We settled back, Quinn tucked into the crook of my arm, and restarted the game. Upstairs, the funeral reception continued. People shared stories of Sienna the perfect, Sienna the ambitious, Sienna the bright ray of golden sunshine. In the basement, we tried to forgot how she hurt us, her death most of all.
#
was easy to ignore everything else. Quinn was tucked under my arm. She fit perfectly. Dark Flag was open on the wide screen television. It had to be alright for us to disappear for a while. The upstairs world could go on without us.
"Have you seen the Black Fields?" I asked.
I felt Quinn's head shake then nestle in closer. "No. Could you show me?"
"Wanna get away for a while?"
"Exactly."
I booted up the game to a new entry point. Players from my clan popped up everywhere, but I repeated the same message: "Touring a newbie."
It was actually part of my job. In fact, within five minutes, I spotted the avatar of one of my supervisors. My sponsors had players in the game to see that I logged the required number of hours and mentioned their product enough times.
"Hang on. I have to tell that Cloaked Corpse about Buzz Fuel," I said.
"The energy drink?" Quinn asked.
I was glad she did not sit up and instead stayed nestled against me. "Yeah, it’s one of my sponsors. I get paid to mention it during play. There are even bonuses if I mention it a certain number of times."
"Your clan players don't think it’s weird?"
"A lot of them know it’s part of my gig. Though, it’s also pretty natural because a lot of the players log on after work and pull all-nighters. We talk strategy and staying alert is part of that," I said.
"Do you drink Buzz Fuel?"
I looked down at her scrunched up nose and laughed. "I go for plain black coffee. Keeps you from getting dehydrated. But don't tell the Cloaked Corpse that."
"I'm just following you," she said.
Her avatar stood behind mine. It looked surprisingly like her. Most people chose idealized body types and features for their avatars or decided to be otherworldly creatures. My avatar had a wicked spiked helmet, but if I removed it, the face was a composite created directly from a digital photograph of me. My sponsors wanted me to be recognizable.
Quinn had also chosen to be a human warrior. It meant her avatar depended on weapons, charms, and spells to survive, but her ability to gather such things was unlimited. She was new to the game and had earned very little armor, and I could not help but noticed her avatar's curves matched her own dimensions.
Unlike the avatar that approached me as I left the Cloaked Corpse. It was a female Nocturne with bluish skin and iridescent eyes. Her breasts had been pumped up past voluptuous and the skin-tight silver suit showed off every ounce.
"May I please the clan leader?" the Nocturne asked.
"Whoa, avatars can do that?" Quinn asked.
"You mean throw themselves at other avatars?" I asked. I typed in a sequence that put the Nocturne aside. "They can do a lot more than that. In the waysides and taverns, avatars can kiss, fondle, undress, have sex, all of it. Dark Flag is not just rated M for violence."
The pop-up screen of commands appeared next to Quinn's avatar. I tried not to watch as she tried a few out. Her avatar ran its hands over its breasts, unzipped its jacket, and licked its lips.
"You might want to watch what you're doing. There are other players around that might be interested," I said.
Quinn quickly scrolled through the commands but could not find the reverse. Her avatar's jacket was slipping off one shoulder, revealing the very thin tank top underneath.
"Why is my avatar not wearing a bra?" Quinn asked.
"Virtual gravity is not a factor?" I suggested.
She whacked my arm and finally found the right command. With her avatar fully dressed, she sat up. "Okay, there is way more to Dark Flag than I'm ready to take on right now. Are you hungry?"
"Thirsty," I said. The heat between us had made my mouth go dry.
"Then let's go on a real-life raid. The caterers in the kitchen know me and they'll put together a quick tray and drinks for us," Quinn said.
"So you really plan to hide out down here the rest of the day?" I asked.
Quinn stood up and nodded. "Yes. Definitely. I mean, I get it if you want to leave."
I shook my head and followed her upstairs. We rounded the corner on the way to the kitchen and Quinn ran right into her father.
"Quinn, Owen. I should have known you two were hiding out together," Mr. Thomas said. "The hearse just arrived and we'll be leaving for the cemetery in half an hour." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "I expect you to be in the limousine with the rest of the family, Quinn."
"I will, Father. I'm just getting something to eat. I'm feeling light-headed," Quinn said.
The change was instantaneous. As soon as her father appeared, Quinn became a pale shade of herself. She said as little as possible, nodded while her father spoke, and her sweet mouth turned down at the corners. I had seen it hundreds of times before. Every time it happened, I wanted to punch Mr. Thomas in the face.
"Sienna would have known how to handle herself," Mr. Thomas told his youngest daughter. "Pull yourself together for her sake."
"Yes, Father. Can I get you anything?" Quinn asked.
"No, but maybe Owen here can explain why my wife is so upset," Mr. Thomas turned on me.
It seemed obvious, so I said nothing. The silence infuriated him, and I saw Quinn shrink back. Finally, I relented. "She never approved of me and Sienna. I think maybe I should go."
Behind her father's ramrod straight back, Quinn caught my eye and shook her head. She looked so sad, as if I was abandoning her. I imagined the limousine ride to the cemetery. Her parents could not go five minutes on a regular day without comparing her to Sienna. What would they say to her on the drive?
I held out my hand to shake Mr. Thomas's in farewell. He ignored it and walked away.
"Are you really going?" Quinn asked. "At least grab a sandwich or something first."
I should have left, but I followed her to the kitchen. The quiet caterers moved easily around Quinn. Their manager came right over. "You want a plate, Ms. Thomas?"
"Yes, please. Two. Whatever you've got," she said. She was anxious to retreat again. Her eyes kept scanning the doorways.
"We're so sorry for your loss, Ms. Thomas," the manager said. "It sounds like your sister was an amazing person and you were following in her footsteps. Your parents are lucky to have you."
Quinn gave me a painful look. She had been surviving comparisons to Sienna all her life, but today everything was compounded. "Let's hope I don't go too far," Quinn said.
The nearest server fumbled a handful of silverware.
"How about a little something from the bar, as well?" I said. I took Quinn's arm and steered her back towards the basement.
"Quinn, what on earth are you doing with him?" Mrs. Thomas hissed from the doorway.
"You mean Owen?" Quinn spun to face her mother, the color bright on her cheeks. "Trying to get through this awful day, same as you."
"Well, he can't be helping," her mother said.
"How can you say that? Don't you remember how many times Owen came to Thanksgiving? Nine. He made the stuffing and the gravy at four," Quinn said. "And remember who did all the touch-ups when you fired the painters? These walls would be splotchy if he had not taken a whole day to fix them for you."
"It's okay, Quinn. I should go," I said.
"No. How can they forget that you're my friend?" she asked. "You didn't like him dating Sienna, but you had no problem with him driving me to Los Angeles. It wasn't an issue when you scheduled a cruise during Sienna's cheerleading camp week and Owen had to stay here so I wouldn't be alone."
"Really, Quinn, you are just being silly. I'm sure it’s the stress of all this, but you should stop before you make a fool of yourself," Mrs. Thomas said.
"A fool of myself?" Quinn asked. "I'm not hunting around for someone to blame."
Mrs. Thomas gripped her narrow waist until her knuckles turned white. "He certainly did not help Sienna, did he? You don't think she realized how close you two were? You don't think we all knew about your 'friendship’?"
"Sienna was happy I was spending time with Quinn," I said. "She knew knew we like the same things."
"Childish things, little kid games," Mrs. Thomas spat. "Well, at least you realized Sienna was too good for you. I was glad when you two started drifting apart."
"You wanted him out of Sienna's life, but you expected him to be there and prevent all of this?" Quinn asked. She threw her hands up in disgust. "You don't even know what you're saying."
"No one does today. It's alright, Quinn. I'm going to leave," I said.
"I'll walk you to your car," she said.
Mrs. Thomas opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn brushed past her. I had no choice but to follow her out the front door. She moved fast, her long legs flying down the front steps. Her black high heels clicked quickly along the sidewalk and I had to hurry to catch up.
"Quinn? Are you alright?" I asked.
"No. Yes. I have no idea," she said, finally slowing down.
"They feel the same way," I said. "You can't listen to anything they say."
"Except they're right," Quinn said. "You were Sienna's boyfriend, not my buddy. I shouldn't have pestered you. I should have stuck by my mother and kept her calm."
"You're allowed to grieve, too. You're allowed to need someone in your corner." I caught her arm. "I'm on your side, Quinn. I've always been on your side."
"Sienna didn't mind us being friends, did she?" Quinn asked, tears in her eyes.
"She encouraged it. Sienna was the one that pointed out how much we have in common. She made us friends," I said. I bit my lip to stop from saying more.
Quinn threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. I steadied myself, then wrapped my arms around her. I could not think about how her every curve fit alongside my body. We came together too easily to ignore, but Quinn needed comfort, not complications.
I would not tell her how many times Sienna confronted me about my feelings for her little sister. Quinn did not need to know how often Sienna complained that her little sister had a crush on me. No one needed to know how that always thrilled me. I kept up with Sienna as long as I could. Now that she was gone, my connection to Quinn was even stronger. We needed each other.
"It's going to get better," I said.
"I know, I know," Quinn's voice was muffled against my neck. "Just promise me we won't drift apart." She pulled back and looked into my eyes. "I didn't know you and Sienna were drifting apart."
"For a long time, but that doesn't matter now," I said. I set Quinn carefully back on her high heels. "I'm here if you need me."
She looked at my car and shook her head. "Sienna hated this car."
"Get in if you want. I can drive you to the cemetery or you can hang out at my place if you want," I said.
Quinn brushed her chestnut hair back and smoothed it down. "No. I have to ride with my parents. It wouldn't look right if I wasn't with them."
I wanted to ask her what it mattered how things looked. I wanted to tell her that grief was messy. It was too late. I watched as Quinn straightened her shoulders and marched back to be the dutiful daughter.