Ruthless (10 page)

They pulled away, staring into each other’s eyes. The guy looked as shocked as Hanna felt. He cleared his throat. “Do you want to—”

“I think we should—” Hanna said at the same time.

They both stopped and chuckled. He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd until they turned into a dark alley between one of the classroom buildings and an internet café called Networks. They ran down it crookedly, hand in hand, tripping over empty cardboard boxes and abandoned Coke and beer cans. The guy stopped, pulled Hanna to the wall, and started kissing her fervently. Hanna kissed him back, tasting his slightly salty skin, touching the sinewy muscles in his arms, burrowing her hands under his T-shirt. Never before had she felt so swept away.

Finally, they pulled away, panting hard. “Wow,” the guy whispered, out of breath. “This is . . . crazy.”

“I know,” Hanna said.

He gripped Hanna’s hands. “What’s your name?”

“Hanna.”

“I’m Liam,” he said.

“That’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard,” Hanna murmured dreamily, barely aware of what she was saying. She didn’t know what her body was doing. Her father was up on the stage now, giving a speech about voting and change for the better and all kinds of other optimistic political promises. Hanna knew she should be out there, being the good little campaign strategist, but she couldn’t tear herself away from Liam’s embrace. She wanted to stay here in this dingy alley for the rest of her life, with Liam.

Chapter 9

EMILY’S GOT A TYPE

“Smile!” Kay pulled Emily close and aimed her camera phone at both of them as they stood under the marquee at the Electric Factory, a music club in downtown Philly—the Chambermaids, Kay’s favorite band, was going on in an hour. Emily smiled as the flash went off, and then Kay inspected the screen. “You look super-cute! Your sister will love it.”

Kay pressed a few buttons, sending the image off to Beth, who was out with a friend tonight. She’d insisted Emily go alone, though. “You’re the one Kay wants,” she’d urged. “I guarantee you guys are going to hook up by the end of the night.”

Truthfully, Emily had been ecstatic when Kay had called her this morning asking if she wanted to hang out. All she could think of was the quick but electrically charged kiss at the party, of Kay dancing, unfettered, and of what Kay said at the end of the night:
I’ll die if we don’t become friends
. There was something dangerous and unpredictable about Kay. Hanging out with her gave Emily the same deliciously illicit feeling she used to get when watching an R-rated movie at Ali’s when she was younger: R movies were banned at the Fields house, which made Emily even more curious to see what they were all about.

When she’d met Kay in the lobby earlier, she’d been pleasantly surprised: Out of her mermaid dress and wig, Kay was even hotter than Emily imagined. She had long reddish hair that fell almost to the small of her back. Her gray vintage T-shirt pulled across her torso, hinting at perky boobs and a flat stomach. Kay’s eyes had lit up when she saw Emily emerge through the throng, as if she liked what she was seeing, too.

Now, a doorman ripped their tickets, and the girls pushed through the front door. “Drinks,” Kay said with purpose, weaving around a bunch of kids milling by the stage. They got into the line behind two girls in matching T-shirts with photos of the Chambermaids. It was funny to see that the band members were all guys—and hot ones, too. Emily had envisioned girls in cleaning lady uniforms.

“How do you know this band?” Emily asked.

“I heard them on Pandora last summer.” Kay twisted a piece of hair around her finger. “They got me through a rough patch.”

Emily touched the feather earrings that hung from her ears. “What kind of rough patch?”

Kay stared off at the stack of amps that lined the wall. “I spent some time away from home. It’s a boring story, though.”

“I know all about rough patches,” Emily admitted, looking down at her toes. “My parents sent me away, too. I went to Iowa to live with my cousins. It was a disaster, and I ran away.”

Kay widened her eyes. “Are you okay?”

Emily shrugged. “Yeah. But I’ve been through other things, too. If my parents ever found out they’d do a lot more than send me away.” She shut her eyes for a moment and tried to imagine what her mother’s reaction would be if she learned Emily had been pregnant, but she simply couldn’t come up with anything extreme enough, save for her mother’s head literally exploding. She didn’t even dare consider what her mother would do if she found out about Tabitha.

“I’ve kept tons of things from my parents, too,” Kay said, almost with relief. “I used to be so much wilder than I am now. These days, my parents don’t trust me at all. Most of the time, if I want to go anywhere, I have to sneak out.” She smiled slyly and bumped Emily’s hip. “I doubt they would’ve let me out with you tonight, Miss Bad-Girl Bucket List.”

Emily struck a pose, channeling devilish New Emily. “Don’t think I’m done with the bad-girl bucket list. There might be a few things to cross off on the list tonight.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Kay said, her green eyes on Emily’s. A tingle sizzled up Emily’s backbone.

It was Kay’s turn to order, and she asked the bartender for two Captain Morgan and Cokes. When he slid the glasses across the bar, she raised hers in the air. “To a checkered past, and a brighter future.”

Emily snorted. “That sounds like a valedictorian speech.”

An uncomfortable expression slid across Kay’s face, and she gazed up at the overhead lights. After a moment, she turned back to Emily, the look gone. “Do you kiss strange girls at parties often? You looked like you had some experience with it.”

Emily blushed. “No, kissing a stranger—well,
two
strangers—was a first for me.” But then she paused, feeling a surge of honesty. “I did have a girlfriend last year, though.”

Kay looked intrigued. “What was that like?”

Emily felt her cheeks burn even brighter. She ducked her head. “Actually, it’s pretty awesome.”

Kay stirred her drink with the little red straw. “Guys suck. And girls are so much cuter.”

“They are,” Emily said in a half whisper. She stared at Kay, entranced by the smooth, freckly skin on her bare shoulders and neck. Kay stared back.

Then Kay lifted her glass again. “Another toast. This time to girl-on-girl action.”

“Cheers,” Emily said, clinking her glass to Kay’s once more.

Kay took a long, almost grateful sip. “So. I think sneaking backstage and meeting the band should be on your bad-girl bucket list.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Okay. But how are we going to do that?”

Kay pointed to a bouncer who was manning a door near the stage. “Tell that guy you’re Rob Martin’s girlfriend and you want to see him for a sec before he performs. And slip him this.” She pressed something in Emily’s hand. Emily opened her palm and saw it was a twenty.

“He’ll know I’m lying!” Emily whispered.

Kay sank into her hip. “I’ll back you up. C’mon. This is an easy one.”

The crowd shifted, creating a clear path to the bouncer. The few sips of rum Emily had taken burned in her chest. Adrenaline pumped through her body, making her feel tingly and
alive
.

Rolling her shoulders back, Emily snaked through the crowd and stopped at the dingy black door next to a stack of Marshall amps. The bored-looking bouncer, who could have been a body double for Vin Diesel, leafed through a motorcycle magazine. Emily glanced over her shoulder, and Kay gave her an encouraging nod.

“Excuse me,” Emily said sweetly, touching the guy’s elbow. “Do you mind if we go in for a sec? I’m Rob Martin’s girlfriend, and I want to see him before he goes on.”

The guy lowered the magazine and squinted at her. His eyes scanned Emily’s reddish-blondish hair, her toned swimmer’s shoulders, and her thin waist. Emily was glad she’d snagged a pair of skinny jeans from Beth’s suitcase and paired them with one of the few snug-fitting T-shirts her parents hadn’t banned. Her fingers curled around the bill Kay had handed her. After a moment, she pushed it into the bouncer’s palm. Then she slid her fingers up his wrist and squeezed his bicep. “Strong,” she said in a voice that she couldn’t believe belonged to her. “I bet you can bench a ton.”

Miraculously, the bouncer smirked, stepped aside, and unlocked the door for them. Emily slipped through the door, and Kay followed her. The door slammed shut again, muffling the sound from the crowd. The dark hallway smelled like stale beer and sweat.

“Oh my God.” Emily clapped her hands over her mouth. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“You rock.” Kay grabbed her shoulders and shook them excitedly. “I couldn’t have done that better myself. And the bicep-squeeze?
Priceless!
” Then she clutched Emily’s wrist. “Come on. Let’s go crash their party.”

Their footsteps rang out on the concrete floor. They reached a heavy, sticker-plastered door next to a glowing red
EXIT
sign. “I bet this is it,” Kay whispered. She pushed on it gently. “Hello?”

“Yeah?” called a guy’s voice from the other side.

Kay nudged the door open with her foot. Four tall, youngish guys blinked at them from ratty folding chairs and lumpy couches. One of them wore a slim-fitted suit, and the others had on vintage T-shirts and jeans. They all held open cans of beer, and they were watching
Flight of the Conchords
on a tiny computer screen propped up on an overturned milk crate. There were posters all over the walls for other bands that had played here—John Mayer, Iron & Wine—and a bizarre collection of Benjamin Franklin memorabilia, bobble heads and figurines and a life-sized Ben Franklin cardboard cut-out.

“Who are you?” Fitted Suit stared at Kay and Emily.

“I’m Kay.” Kay sauntered into the room. “And this is Emily. We thought you boys could use some fun.”

Fitted Suit nudged the other band members. All of them canvassed Kay appreciatively. “I’m Rob,” Fitted Suit said, holding out his hand.

“I know,” Kay said. She pointed to the others. “And you’re Yuri, Steve, and Jamie.”

“So you guys are fans?” the guy named Steve asked.

“
Clearly.
” Kay breezed over to a small table in the corner, which held several bottles of liquor and some mixers. Without asking, she poured herself a drink. “Why doesn’t someone turn up the music? Doesn’t dancing help you loosen up before a show?”

The band members exchanged a glance, then Rob leapt up and put an Adele song on the stereo. Instantly, Kay started swaying back and forth to the music, beckoning the guys to dance, too. For a while, they just grinned at Kay, but then Rob got up and twirled her around. The guy named Jamie sat on the couch next to Emily. “Do you two sneak backstage often?”

Emily felt suddenly shy, like she used to when Her Ali dragged her to Rosewood Day parties and made her talk to guys. “Not really. But I hope you don’t mind.”

Jamie waved his hand dismissively. “Our manager keeps us locked in here. It gets so boring. Your friend’s something, huh? Totally . . .
infectious
.”

Emily turned and watched Kay spinning around the room. If Kay were an infection, Emily hoped she’d catch it. Kay’s body moved so gracefully and fluidly that it was hard for Emily to tear her gaze away. She’d always wanted to be someone like Kay, a girl who could charm absolutely anyone, even if she didn’t know them. She tried to picture Kay at Rosewood Day. She’d probably have everyone in her back pocket, just like Their Ali.

“Em!” Kay called from the makeshift dance floor. “Come dance! This is my favorite song!”

Emily stood, pulling Jamie up with her, too. Both of them moved into the circle and let Kay swing them around. Soon enough, everyone was singing the words to Adele. Kay lifted her cell phone above the group and snapped picture after picture, pausing to type in captions or send a text. Kay caught Emily’s eye across the group and winked, and Emily winked back. And as the song hit its third refrain, Kay shot Emily a covert smile.

“You’re amazing,” Emily whispered to her as they passed mid-spin.

“You are, too,” Kay whispered back.

A faint giggle echoed in Emily’s ears. Emily whipped around, suddenly on high alert. For a second she was certain she’d see someone peering through the window in the door that led to the stage. A blond someone, perhaps.

But to her great relief, no one was there.

Chapter 10

OH, AMOUR . . .

As the fifties-era bubble-shaped clock in her bedroom clicked from 3:59 to 4:00
P
.
M
.
on Saturday afternoon, Aria rolled over on her bed and leafed through yet another copy of French
Vogue
, pretending she was in a hotel suite on the Left Bank of Paris instead of in her father’s house in Rosewood. She had cotton balls wedged between each bare toe from the pedicure she’d given herself, and next she was going to soak in a long, hot bubble bath. She had six other activities planned, too, all to fill the weekend hours without Noel.

Eyeing her laptop on her desk, she sat up and listened for the sounds in the house. Byron and Meredith had taken baby Lola to an infant swim class, and Mike was most likely at one of his friend’s houses. Satisfied that no one was around to randomly burst into her room and see what she was doing, she dragged the laptop to her bed, touched the click wheel to wake up the screen, and typed in the web address for the Tabitha Clark Memorial page.

As usual, Tabitha’s pretty smiling face popped up. A few new pictures had appeared on the site: one of Tabitha when she was in about seventh or eighth grade, sitting on a beach, the burns apparent on her arms and legs. Another was a shot of her a few years later, standing in what looked like a sleek hotel lobby next to a giant potted cactus someone had adorned with two plastic eyes, a nose, and a mouth. There were dark circles under her eyes, but her smile looked happy.

Aria felt a wave of nausea and looked away.
You killed her
, a voice needled her from deep inside her brain.