Ephemeral (The Countenance) (52 page)

My cell goes off. It’s a text from Cooper.
See you tonight?

I text back. Can’t wait.
Are you really OK?

I’ve already texted him twice this morning to make sure he’s not dying in pain from his burns, but he assured me he has the power to heal, that he’s already as good as new.

I’m OK. Promise.

I let out a breath.

I wish I could have been there for him last night. We left him bleeding in a parking lot, and if the Fem attack and falling in a fire weren’t enough, he was forced to play taxi to an oversexed Carter and Jackson.

He sends another text.
There’s something I want to talk to you about. Maybe after the movie if you can spare a minute.

If I could spare a minute?

My stomach cycles at the thought of Cooper considering himself a second-class citizen in my life. I’d spare every minute, every second for Coop. Cooper answers me when I have questions, unlike Wes who was slow to accommodate last night when I asked what those creatures might have wanted. He said he’d look into it, but there was anger layered beneath the surface like he was pissed off at the right person but didn’t want to share just who that might be.

I text back.
I would spare every second for you. Whatever you need, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you.

It feels odd expressing such a serious sentiment over the phone, in a text no less. It’s true, though. Every word.

My phone buzzes softly.
Can’t wait to see you.

I half expected him to fire off some sarcastic remark about needing a friend with benefits or asking for a picture of me naked to use as a screensaver, but the fact he can’t wait to see me is far better.

My phone bleats again.
Also, I’m in the mood for a deep tissue massage—giving and getting. Hot candle wax and clothing are optional. Biting however is required.
   

I give a tiny smile. I can practically see the dirty grin on his face. Typical.

I pluck an orange sweater off the counter in my size and hand it to the woman who gets paid to be my shadow. Oddly, the color alone reminds me of Kresley, a bad omen in and of itself, so I take it back and give a curt smile.

“
Laken
.” Mom’s eyes bulge with mortification as though I had just shoved unpaid merchandise into my purse.

“Sorry, I’m just frustrated. I can’t find anything.”

“Junior’s department.” Mom speaks to the woman at my side and hands her a list of my various sizes. “Enough for two weeks,” she instructs. She turns back and presses out a smile with those familiar lips. I’ve seen them a thousand times before when looking in the mirror. She has the same small M that crests over her top lip. “You should have clothes by morning.” She spins on her heels toward Jen. “So…” Her voice vibrates through me. “How are you planning to dismantle this relationship you’ve been hanging onto for the last several years?”

Perhaps some sound advice from a self-described poverty porn addict will bring wisdom and resolution to the situation, although I’d settle for a restraining order.  

Jen gives a quick look of irritation before plucking underwear out of a stock bin and throwing them into the air like confetti. A small army of personal shoppers gather behind her and snap them up like popcorn.

“I’m not breaking up with Blaine.” Jen pulls her lips in a line. “We’re working through this.”

“She’s delusional,” I say it mostly to myself.

My new unimproved mother sharpens her steel cut eyes over me. “Sometimes, Laken, it’s best to go along with the delusions that life has to offer. In the end it could be a lot less catastrophic.” Her words hold the promise of a thin-veiled threat.

I give a passive nod and fondle the phone in my hand as though it were Cooper himself. There’s only Cooper I can trust.

Accepting the delusions that this world has to offer would be like drinking down vinegar—vomit inducing, vile, altogether impossible in nature.

I’d bathe in gasoline and walk through a fire to pull myself out of this alternate universe.

Something tells me I just might have to.

52

Power Position

Wharton Hall is decorated with large silver stars outside its normally ivy-covered exterior. A red carpet has been rolled out in front, complete with brass posts that sport thick velvet ropes that usher the way inside.

“They totally don’t show R-rated movies here, like ever.” Carter is quick to defend Ephemeral’s questionable judgment.

One thing is clear, a lot of exceptions are being made in honor of Grayson’s spectacular movie debut—like the fact I’ve just been informed by an overzealous Flynn there will be full frontal nudity provided by Ephemeral’s most-prized daughter. I’m betting it lasts longer than any of her speaking parts combined. Although, I’m not surprised by this, I’m horrified that both Wes and Coop will be subject to her goliath mammary glands pressed against the big screen. This explains the slight bout of nausea I’ve experienced since learning of the birthday-suit extravaganza.

There’s a palpable buzz in the air, new clothes mingle with the scent of expensive perfume, and it overpowers the senses. I spot Kresley and Grayson near the front. They look every bit the glamour queens they profess to be. Beauty is their religion. They worship at the altar of me, myself, and I.

Kresley sports a short red dress, her well-tanned skin glows underneath. It begs you to take in her remarkable legs that stretch for miles. Grayson is wearing a flesh-toned sweater that pays homage to the qualities the movie studio liked best about her and a pair of skinny jeans that show off the rest of her curves.

Before I left the department store I managed to come to my senses and pick up something decent to wear to the premiere, an off the shoulder metallic grey sweater paired with the priciest jeans in the northern hemisphere. I’m not up on my jean couture, but I figured if I paid enough, I’d stumble into the right ones.

“Is Cooper around?” I ask, pecking my neck in five hundred directions at once.

“You sure you’re not seeing Coop?” Carter says it sultry as if there were real reasons for her to believe I was. There are, but that’s beside the point.

“I’m seeing Wes. Wes is the love of my life. I’m going to marry Wes and have an entire tribe of dark-haired boys with eyes the color of a spring meadow, and you’re going to envy me because you accidentally got stuck with my brother.”

Carter lets out a riotous laugh. “Speaking of his hotness.” She hops into me. “I think it’s bordering on official. Fletch said he’d go out with me.” She digs her nails into my sleeve like a vice.

“What about Jackson?” I look past her shoulder. He’s tucked in a corner talking to Jen, and they both look equally dejected.

“I broke it off with him.” She hitches her blond curls behind her ear. “He’s totally okay with it.” She looks past me and waves. I follow her gaze over to Fletch who happens to have scored a conversation with the D-list celebrity whose dishonor Ephemeral is busy exalting. 

Carter zips off toward my brother who’s made the moronic fashion choice of wearing dark sunglasses at night. Carter’s the one who’s blind for abandoning a perfectly good Jackson for Fletcher. But, seriously, if she ever did marry my brother, I wonder if she’d wake up one morning and realize she made a horribly wrong decision? I can’t imagine how devastating it would be to wake up one day and realize you made a terrible mistake of both the conjugal and legal variety.

Cooper and Wes blink through my mind.     

An arm encircles me from behind, and I wobble on my spiked heels.

A soft kiss lands on the side of my face revealing Wes in all his thunderous glory. The moon bleaches his hair with blue highlights and he holds the scent of aftershave and soap. There’s nothing in the world I love more than a fresh-scrubbed Wes.

“Hey you!” A female voice cuts me off before I can properly greet him. Kresley strides over in heels twice as tall as mine with her chest out and breasts at attention. She towers over us proud and erect like a sexed up giraffe. She licks her lips while fixated on Wes. “I want you to meet my new agent, the one I was telling you about.” She tilts her head in a silent plea as if she never tried to slaughter our love with her twisted lies.

Wes presses my back into his chest, using me like a human shield.

“Maybe later.” His breath sizzles down my neck, assuring me that all of the promise of later lies with me.

I bite down a smile as Kresley gives in defeat. You could see the blood boiling— the promise of revenge percolating in those pale eyes.

“Cooper’s here.” She looks right at me, hitches her thumb toward the dark mouth of the building with a gleam of delight. “I heard he was looking for you, Laken. He’s so interested in you. He says you fascinate him.” She sings the words like a song, like she wants me to believe she knows something, and she just might.

“He was hurt last night.” Wes is quick to inform her. He takes me by the hand and speeds us into the facility.
Damn lucky he wasn’t killed—better luck next time
.

I take a quick breath and pull my hand back pretending to dig something out of my purse. The thought of Wes even implying he wishes Cooper was dead is enough to set me off.

I’m suddenly very much regretting my newfound ability to read Wesley’s toxic mind.

Flynn takes a seat to my left and Wes to my right. The theater dims without me having exchanged a single glance with Cooper.

I watched from afar as Grayson all but introduced him to her parents as her boyfriend—as she offered him a seat sandwiched between her and her mother. This should go over well once the one-eyed girls go flying on screen, supersized no less.

Ms. Paxton takes the stage with her hair neatly pulled back in a spectacularly tight bun. She’s just shaved off ten years from the inadvertent facelift her hairstyle affords.

Mr. Edinger inspects the crowd like a bouncer. He wears an understated grin as he pans the vicinity and stops dead when he zeros in on me. He offers a short-lived smile as if he were looking for me all along. There’s something evil about him. Wicked. My bones chill unnaturally each time he smothers me with his special brand of demented attention.

Flynn leans into me as Ms. Paxton drones on about what an honor it is to have such an esteemed actress in our midst. “My parents got the official F.U. from the queen bitch herself.”

“What?”

“They want all Casper’s shit cleared off campus—lockers… crap from her room.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t believe they’d be that heartless. On second thought, I can. “So what’d they say?”

Flynn presses his lips directly into my ear. “They accused her of campus abandonment—grounds for expulsion. But if she were to return, they’d entertain the idea of reinstating her.”

“How very generous.”

Flynn raises a brow. His sad eyes linger over me as the theater darkens.

I lean back toward Wes and take up his hand.

“Everything okay?” he whispers it sweet.

I nod and relax into his shoulder. It feels good like this with Wes, safe in the dark.

“You look beautiful.” He seals the sentiment with a kiss.

Wes and his ebony splendor, those eyes that glow like jade. I can’t bear the thought of not having him, of losing him to whatever it is that’s eroding him from the inside.

He glances over at me as he settles in close.
Wish she didn’t feel like she doesn’t have me.
Wes looks right at me and pushes out a dry smile.
I love you so damn much, Laken, with everything in me, always have.
He brings my hand up and rolls it over his lips.
I’m going to bring you back. Stop the erosion of whatever the hell it is that’s keeping you away from me. 

I sink down in my seat, pull my hand free, and slip it over his knee, safely away from his roving thoughts, his stagnant idea of what’s become of me. His disbelief is beginning to overshadow everything we once stood for. I wish it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe me, that it was enough that he loved me. But it’s not.