Blood Candy (22 page)

“Jolly good. I was just telling your brother
here about the time these two chaps dueled over a young plantation
girl down in Georgia. A bloody good show it was. They opened up
with pistols and shot each other in the heart, but it didn’t end
there.”

Chester sunk three billiards in quick
succession and was lining up his last shot on the nine-ball. He
made the shot and pocketed the money. Nigel didn’t look pleased at
all.

“Cheeky bastard,” he said, forgetting about
his story. “You led me to believe you weren’t any good at this
game.”

“I did no such thing, Sir Nigel,” Chester
said. “Rematch?”

“Another time.” Nigel placed his pool stick on
the table and faced Blake. “As much as I’d like to remain
impartial, I do hope you whoop the trousers off those scallywags.
Disgusts me the way they run around as if they own the
place.”

“What’s their deal anyway?” Candy said. “No
disrespect to you Nigel, but why are British families here in the
first place?”

“Those buggers are still bitter about The
War,” Nigel said.

“The war?” said Candy. “You mean the Iraq
War?”

Nigel gave her a quizzical look. “What?
No.”

“The Vietnam War?”

“No,” Nigel said with a stupefied shake of his
head. “I’m talking about
The
War—The War for American
Independence. Or, as the English called it, The Rebellion of the
Greedy, Tax Evading Yanks.”

“Wait. They are bitter about a war that took
place like a hundred years ago?” Candy said.

“It was well over two hundred years ago,”
Nigel said. “And yes, they are still bitter.”

Chester stepped in to derail the current
conversation. “The sun will be down in about fifteen,” he said.
“The jerseys are in the garage and I’m looking forward to
practicing with them. Let’s round everyone up so we can get
started.”

Nigel wandered off while Candy went with
Chester and Blake to the garage, which easily fit two town cars,
the red Ferrari, as well as a few other expensive vehicles. Chester
laid out five blue jerseys on the hood of his Ferrari, expecting
everyone to marvel over them, which Blake did like a kid on
Christmas morning. Each jersey had “BALLS DEEP” on the front in red
lettering, and on the back the name of a Mullin. They even had blue
trunks with a red stripe down each side to match. After a few
minutes, Cooper and Chip came in. They grabbed their jerseys and
trunks then went back into the house to change.

Candy watched Blake practice basketball with
his three brothers on the outdoor court behind the mansion. Tall
stadium lights illuminated nearly the whole back yard and there
were even aluminum bleachers on each side of the court. Blake had
brought out a boom box and one of his mixed CD’s. The first song
started up.

It’s a cruel summer.

The Mullin boys began their practice routine.
Their abnormally white arms and legs made them look a little
ridiculous as they passed the ball around, and Blake’s music didn’t
help. A few eighties hits later, Candy was incredibly bored. She
had forgotten how much she hated basketball. In the eleventh grade,
she dated a guy on the varsity team. She ended up dumping him three
weeks later because she couldn’t take sitting through the games
anymore. She changed her mind once she saw the things the Mullins
could do, terribly outdated soundtrack or not.

Chester’s accuracy was amazing as he easily
sunk baskets from half-court. Candy had never seen anything like it
before. Blake practiced alley-oops. She didn’t believe her eyes
when he easily jumped above the ten foot rim, since he was only
about five foot ten, and usually only really tall white guys could
dunk. Blake had no problem jumping from the top of the key to catch
a pass and slam it in the basket.

Watching the Mullins at work, Candy felt good
about their chances. With the way they were playing, she didn’t
know why they had ever doubted themselves. After some time, Wendi
showed up in sweat pants and a white sports shirt. The boys gave
her grief for being late and for not having her jersey. She went
immediately over to the boom box and took out Blake’s
CD.

“I don’t need to wear the jersey for
practice,” she said snidely. “And Balls Deep? Are you serious? You
four are seriously retarded.”

Chester waved her off. “Everyone else likes
it. What’s the big deal?”

“Never mind,” Wendi said with a wave of her
hand and a roll of her eyes. “I’m only doing this because I hate
those British assholes. I can’t wait to kick their worthless
fucking teeth in.”

“Do we have to hear about this again?” Coop
said. “Hayden ripped out your heart and stomped on it. We get it,
he’s an asshole. Move the fuck on.”

Wendi flipped him off. Cooper grabbed his
crotch and flicked his tongue in front of his fangs. Of all the
brothers, Candy would have thought the skinny, redheaded Coop would
be the modest one. Looks can be deceiving, she supposed.

Wendi replaced the CD in the boom box with one
of her own and heavy rock music blared out into the night. Candy
didn’t care for that kind of music and she couldn’t remember the
name of the song or the angry band who sang it way back in the
nineties, but it was better than her brother’s eighties
mix.

The next hour would have been an extension
into the dreary land of boredom had Candy not enjoyed Wendi
bouncing around so much. A lot of grunge and metal from the
nineties played on her CD; that, combined with the hardcore
expression on her face as she played with her brothers, made her
look like a complete badass. And undeniably sexy. Never mind she
was a vampire as well. Candy was glad when she sat next to her on
the bleachers. She noticed then that none of them sweated; another
vampire oddity she’d have to get used to.

“I hate this game.” Wendi watched her bothers
practicing for a moment, shaking her head. “You realize we’re going
to lose, right?”

The statement surprised Candy. “No you won’t,”
she said. “Look at them. I’ve never seen anything like it. Look at
how quick they are and how high they can jump.”

At times they went into a drill where they
passed and shot the ball, moving faster than Candy thought anyone
could sprint, and they did it from a standstill—one push off, one
stride, and they were hauling ass down the court.

“The Brits are faster,” Wendi said with a
snorting laugh. “They are older and stronger. Aside from Chester,
the rest of us haven’t been vampires nearly as long.”

“Oh,” Candy said. “Don’t you think your
knowledge of the game will help?”

“A little, but the only way we’ll win is if we
play dirty. Unfortunately, my idiot brothers play by the rules.
That’s where I come in. I’m going to make Hayden wish he had never.
. . .”

Wendi jumped up and kicked a ball that had
rolled next to the bleachers. It disappeared into the night. Candy
gulped, but she wasn’t anything if not curious.

“I shouldn’t pry, but what did he
do?”

Wendi glared at her. “Take your own advice and
don’t pry.”

Wendi wandered back out onto the basketball
court, found a ball, and beamed Cooper on the back of the head with
it. While they shouted at each other, Candy decided to retire to
her room for the night. She sorted the shoes and hung the clothes
Renaldo had brought the night before and then she took a shower in
the awesome bathroom. As she lay in bed trying to fall asleep, she
started to enjoy the idea of living in a mansion.

Chapter Seventeen

Candy crawled out of the impossibly comfortable
bed at around noon the next day. The first thing that came to her
mind was the lack of dreams involving vampires. What she did dream
about had been pleasantly normal, if an anxiety dream about being
on the brink of failing a class could be counted as such. As far as
Candy was concerned, it counted.

As she rolled out of bed she saw the cell
phone Melvin had given her on the nightstand. Her next thought was
that she hadn’t checked in with the Misfits. They hadn’t called
her, either. She was worried about them, and she hated herself for
not thinking to call. She also hadn’t called her mother or her best
friend. She thought about calling Amanda for a moment, and then
decided now wasn’t the best time. The address book in her cell
phone showed each Misfit’s number. She selected Jimmy’s entry. He
sounded overly concerned when he answered.

“Candy? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Silence. “Are you
there?”

“Yes.” Silence again. “You should have called
yesterday.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t like you being there. I—” He didn’t
finish his thought.

“I’m fine. I know you don’t like me being
here, and I don’t like it either.” She paused, hoping he couldn’t
hear the lie for what it was. “Are you all okay? You haven’t run
into any trouble, have you?”

“None,” Jimmy said. “Chester called Dave and
told him where the game will be. I can’t. . . .” He paused again.
“I don’t like being away from you like this. I know we’re not
dating, but I care about you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone
before.”

“Jimmy—”

“You think I’m a total dork now, don’t
you?”

“No.”

“You like it there, don’t you?”

Candy had to answer right away or he might
become suspicious, so she said what first came to mind. “It’s not
as great as you think it is.” She scrunched her eyes and silently
cursed. Anyone with an ounce of common sense could easily read
between the lines. “I’ll see you tonight, Jimmy.”

He didn’t say anything and Candy thought she
had blown it. Though she really did like the Misfits, she was so
confused she didn’t know what to say. She had dealt with plenty of
love struck boys, but this confounded her. Finally, Jimmy said,
“Okay. See you there.”

He hung up. Candy knew that wasn’t
good.

She fell back on the bed and sighed, feeling
bad for him and wondering why she had led him on, why she had
kissed him. She knew why. He was kind and handsome. He had saved
her and gone through all kinds of trouble with her, trying to help
her. She stared at the ceiling for a long time until Renaldo
knocked on the door.

“Are you well, Miss Candy?”

Candy sighed again. She wasn’t sure she felt
like having Renaldo waiting on her all day. She strolled over to
the door in the shirt and shorts she had fallen asleep
in.

“Can I get you anything?” he said.

“I’m fine, thank you. I need to
shower.”

“Very well. Shall I have lunch or breakfast
prepared for you?”

“Whatever you want.”

Candy didn’t think she would ever get out of
the shower. She had to though, it gave her way too much time to
think, and she didn’t want to think anymore. She dried off and got
dressed, opting for a blue blouse and jeans as she checked through
the bags. She put sneakers on with it, refusing to wear anything
that wasn’t conducive to running.

Renaldo waited on her like he had before. A
light brunch of salad with chicken waited for her in the kitchen.
While she ate, Renaldo asked when she would like to go to the city.
Though he was a pleasant man, she didn’t want to go anywhere with
him. She didn’t want to do anything except maybe zone out in front
of a television so she wouldn’t have to think about everything.
Unless she went to her room, Renaldo wouldn’t leave her side. She
ended up going to the den with the manservant on her heels to watch
some television. A daytime talk show featuring formerly semi-famous
women was perfect for shutting down higher brain
functions.

Renaldo sat down on the other side of the
room, crossing one leg over the other and propping open a book.
Candy turned her head to him.

“Why don’t you watch TV with me?”

He gazed up from the book. “I shouldn’t. I’m
working.”

“You’re reading a book.”

Renaldo frowned. He closed his book and sat
beside her on the comfortable leather couch.

“Are you going to follow me all day?” Candy
said.

Renaldo’s frown deepened. “It’s my job. You’re
my responsibility.”

“They don’t want me running around their house
unattended?”

“It’s nothing personal, I’m sure. No one wants
people running around their house.”

“But I’m a guest,” Candy countered. “Guests
can generally do such things. You people are seriously
uptight.”

“You would be too if you were completely
helpless while you slept during the day.”

Renaldo immediately slapped both hands over
his mouth as if he had revealed some great secret. Candy laughed,
feeling a little bad for the poor manservant. And then she wondered
what Anastasia might do to one of her servants who revealed a
family secret. She didn’t put anything past the creepy little
girl.

“Don’t worry, Renaldo. I won’t tell
anyone.”

He was visibly relieved, which made her wonder
even more. She imagined dainty, little Anastasia (those attributes
didn’t make her any less frightening) scolding him, or
worse.