Almost Dead (Dead, #1) (3 page)

Horrifyi
ng screams rip through the air, then fade away.

My stomach
climbs into my throat as my car and I plummet over the edge of Death’s Cliff. The ravine opens, preparing to swallow me whole. Wide, wide,
wider
. And the millisecond before impact, my body relaxes, accepting its fate.

I
stride forward, making sure my butt sticks out, my back is arched, and my nose is just far enough in the air that I don’t look absolutely ridiculous.

“Show that
tush more, darling. Use what little curves you’ve gained wisely,” Oliver sasses, clapping his hands together a couple of times.

I suspect he’s talking about the three pounds I’ve
packed on in the past two weeks. All the pageant nonsense has gotten to my head. I’ve tried eating salads and cottage cheese for basic meals, but a lot of good that’s done me. I want pizza, or a burger. Something so greasy, it’ll be all over my face.

“I’m trying,” I
retort.

“
Trying
will not win you that crown, sweetheart. From the beginning,” he says, motioning for me to return to the end of the hallway. He’s already ordered me do
the walk
a thousand times this morning.

I attempt my best pageant pose
, then begin. Oliver surveys me from head to toe, his eyes assessing every tiny detail. If I get it wrong this time, I’ll have a do-over for sure. I stop when I’m, like, three feet away from him, slightly lean into my left hip, and smile so big my cheeks feel like they’re cramping.

Oliver
makes a sound in the back of his throat and rocks his head from side to side. “Better, but not fabulous. We need more
oomph
,” he says, using his hands to talk.

My shoulders drop. Not again
…

He sighs, like I’m wasting
his precious time, and waves me off. “Take a break.”

I should be, I don’t know,
happy
about being in Oliver’s presence. After all, he’s a master at looking fabulous and building self-confidence. So, why do I feel crappy? I mean, the atmosphere of this place should make any girl believe she’s worth a thousand crowns, and then some.

Oliver’s boutique is at the edge of Briarhaven
and is too upscale for this area of town. As he says, his office is a diamond in the rough. Funky art from New York hangs on his multi-colored walls, there’s a flamingo fountain in the courtyard out front, and the chairs in the waiting area remind me of oversized eggshells. One might think this place would be painted neutral colors, but Oliver’s too flamboyant for that. He loves experimenting with every color on the color spectrum, and every six months he re-paints the entire building, inside and out.

Basically, he’s the Liberace of pageants.

Which is why I can’t understand how the temperature of this place is always sweltering, no matter what time of year; I figure if Oliver has the money to re-paint this place, he has the money for central heat and air. I mean, I know it’s, like, twenty degrees out, but it doesn’t mean I should practice in hell.

I pull my
blonde curls into a ponytail. The back of my neck is sprinkled with sweat beads from the taxing past hour, and I can only hope Oliver doesn’t force me to wear my pageant dress, which will only make things worse. Seriously, I’m about to streak naked through the pswehrough arking lot, and I don’t care who sees me.

Paige, Oliver’s assistant, offers me a fresh cup of cappuccino.

“It’s a little hot in here to be drinking capp, don’t you think?” I ask, fanning myself. But the sweet smell is flirting with my nostrils.

Before I can lift the cup to my mouth, Oliver warns, “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t you dare. Not until we’re finished,
darling.”

“But why?” I whine, even stomp my foot a little. Maybe it’ll work.

Oliver gives me
the look
, the one that says it’s a bad idea to question him. I set the mug on the counter, and Paige gives me a sympathetic smile.

“Listen, hon
ey, your parents pay for this, and you’re on my time.” His chic, black glasses slide to the tip of his nose, and he pushes them back up to his bridge. “So, skooch.”

I start all over again, hoping this will be the last
time I prance down the hallway. My brain is exhausted, more than it should be. Critical thinking is what school and work are for. Except I’m not in school right now, and this shouldn’t be work. It should be a piece of cake.

“Again,” Oliver says through clenched teeth when I finish my walk. He doesn’t look at me, just rubs his forehead and closes his eyes, like he’s in
the middle of a deep thought. What’s there to think about? I’ve done this for years, and I’ve always either placed or won, so the odds are totally in my favor. He shouldn’t be so worried.

But after the
next strut, and the next, Oliver is obviously unhappy with me in general. Does he have another client coming in after my appointment? Maybe he’s thinking about her instead. I don’t know…this is strange. He’s never this distant. It’s like the sight of me is nauseating.

Taking deep breaths, I
become zen enough to ask, “Have I done something to offend you?”

Oliver waves me off
. “I just expected more from you by now.”

Oh, my God.
Whatever.

I’ve never heard so many huffs, puffs, and snorts leave anyone’s facial
outlets as I have with him today. He really does hate me, and I honestly don’t know what’s so different during this meeting than any other time I’ve been here. Maybe my heart isn’t into pageants anymore and it’s showing. Nearly gasping aloud, I realize I can’t think like that.
I’m going to win this.
My parents, friends, and boyfriend are like my personal cheerleaders. They’re more than supportive.

Okay, I need to stop;
otherwise, an acceptance speech is fast approaching.

We
rehea mye="+0">rse my walk a few more times before he’s finished with me. Immediately, Oliver disappears into his office, closing the door behind him. I turn toward Paige. She gives me a kind smile and makes me a new cappuccino.

“Thanks,” I tell her, gladly taking the cup from her grasp. I sip, savoring the
sweet flavor. White foam sticks to the tip of my nose, and I wipe it off with my finger.

“So, when’s the pageant?”
Paige asks.

I set the mug down on the counter. “Next week. B
ut between you and me, I’m ready to get it over with so I can eat again. I’m tired of starving myself.” As if I need a reminder, my stomach begins communicating in an alien language.

“Oliver’s the best around here, you know. I’m sure you’ll win.” She gives me
an overly-excited grin that tells me she hasn’t been around here long enough to know that I
always
win one way or another.

“Tell Oliver I’ll see him in a couple of days.”
I’m so done with him, and this place. And Paige kissing my ass every chance she gets. I’m concerned that Oliver will tell my parents about my horrible practice session. And if he does, will they cancel my pageant life?

Striding
toward the dressing room, I nab my purse and dress before leaving. I don’t know why I’m so irritated. Oliver has that effect on me. A lot. Plus, I have to sit in a freezing car, which won’t be so bad since my body temperature rivals that of Earth’s core, but it’ll suck once I cool off. Since my vehicle has been parked in the sun most of the morning, the windows won’t be covered in ice, at least.

A pop melody carols in
my purse just as I’m exiting. Paige waves at me, but my hands are occupied, so I pretend like I didn’t see her. I check the screen. It’s Chase, of course.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby,” he says. “You out of practice yet?”

“Yes! Finally. Oliver was being an extreme royal pain today.”

Chase chuckles on the other end. “You always say that.”

“Yeah, but today was
terrible. He made me walk so many times that I never want to do it again. Plus, I’m so hungry. I just want to tear into a cheeseburger and fries.”

“You know I’ll buy you
as many as you want.”

“No! I can’t eat fatty foods until the pageant is over. Jeez, Chase. Don’t tempt me.”

“One more week, babe.”

“Ugh. It feels like a lifetime.” After locating my keys, I get out of the freezing cold
and take off my heels, relaxing for just a minute. “Ahhhh. This feels good.”

“What?”

I almost forget I’m still on the phone. I have
got
to attend yoga this week and clear my mind; there’s too much stuff jiggling around up there. “Sitting down. I’ve been in pumps all afternoon.”

“Oh.
Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to stay over tonight. My dad and Robin are leaving to visit some friends over the weekend, and I’ll be home alone in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Yeah?” I can’t belie
ve he’s even suggesting we spend time together. Two months ago, I griped about how we didn’t need to publicly display our affection in the hallways at school. Chase argued that all of our friends did it, so why couldn’t we? He doesn’t
get
that we’re not them, apparently. It’s caused a rift in our relationship, and we’re trying to fix it.

“Yeah, c’mon,
” he says.

“Okay,
I’ll see ya soon.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too,” I say as I hit the “end” button. I can’t sit here forever—even though it sounds like a good idea—so I start the engine, pull out of the parking lot, and merge onto one of the main roads in town.

Wha
t I really want to do is sleep—and eat and sleep again—but I can’t bail on Chase. He’s really good to me, even if we’ve had our differences. What couple hasn’t, though? He’s the only person keeping me sane through this crazy pageant mess.

I toss my cell phone in my purse and dig around for some lip gloss. Hopefully
, I remembered to bring deodorant. I don’t want Chase catching a whiff of B.O. where I worked up a sweat. Checking the side and rearview mirrors on my car to make sure no one is behind me, I pull down my visor. With one hand on the wheel, and clutching the lip gloss tube, I pull out the wand. Too easy.

But when I redirect my eyes toward the road, I realize I’m in the opposite lane of traffic—and there’s an oncoming car.

“Shit!” I swerve to miss, but I’m going too fast.
Screeeeech
, the tires squeal. I scream as my car collides with the other. The windshield shatters. I fishtail and ohmygodmyparentsaregoingtokillme.

Flipping.
Screaming. My stomach is in my throat.

It’s Death’s Cliff. Oh, no.
I’m going to faint. Oh, please let me faint before I die.

Please, please, please let me
—