Personal Demons 2 - Original Sin (12 page)

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” My sister reaches up and touches the purplish bruise rising on Luc's cheek.

“I'm fine.”

Lili trembles as she stares at Luc with wide, frightened eyes. “Who was that?”

“Someone I used to do business with,” Luc says, knowing how it will sound, I'm sure.

Understanding dawns on Lili's face. “Dealers.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Luc answers. Then he turns to me. “Thanks.”

I look away, hating the guilty pang. “Yeah, whatever.”

Frannie wraps herself around Luc, pulling his face down to hers and kissing the welt. “How did they get in?”

“They knocked. I answered.” He smiles a cynical smile down at her.

“Oh, God,” she says. “I'll get you some ice.” She looks at him a moment longer, raising her hand to touch his face again, then goes to the kitchen.

Lili moves to the door. “I should probably go….” She reaches for the door handle, but hesitates.

I walk over and brush her hand away. “Let me check it out.” I crack open the door and peer out into the hall. It's empty. I turn back to Lili. “They're gone.”

She glances to Frannie and Luc. “So, if you guys are okay, I'll see you later, I guess.”

“Let me walk you to your apartment,” I say, and realize I sound a little too eager, so I add, “I think they're gone, but…just to be sure.”

“Okay,” she says.

We step through the door into the hall, and a second later, deadbolts are clicking into place behind us.

She turns and walks the few steps to her door, fumbling for her key. “Okay, well…I guess I'll see you around…”

“Matt,” I say, finishing the sentence she started, even though she didn't imply she wanted me to.

She looks up at me. “What?”

“I wasn't sure if you remembered my name. Matt. My name is Matt.” Ugh, I'm an idiot.

She turns the locks and pushes through the door. “Okay. So I'll see you later…Matt.” Her eyes flick to mine, sending a zing down my spine, and an almost-smile curls her lips. “Be careful,” she says, glancing down the hall toward the stairs.

She slips through the door. And I'm alone.

Again.

Frannie

Luc is moving books at the library tonight, so he made me promise to stay home. The Red Sox are losing so totally to the Yankees that the game's becoming painful to watch, and Dad's expletives are getting more colorful than usual. He pushes down the leg rest of his recliner and leans forward, elbows on knees. He focuses on the TV as if he thinks he can make his team win through sheer force of will. I pull myself off the floor and start heading for the stairs.

“You giving up on the boys?” he says.

“Me? Never!” I reply in mock outrage.

He smiles, but then his face becomes serious. “It's nice to have you home in the evening for a change.”

Mom looks up from her crossword. “You should spend more time at home, honey. This is it. In another few months, we won't have you anymore.”

I lean against the wall at the base of the stairs, my arms folded over my chest. “So, does this mean you're ready to stop treating Luc like some—”

Mom drops the newspaper in her lap. “We've never treated him with anything but respect.”

“Be serious, Mom. You don't treat him like Chase. He can never come up to my room.”

“Well…he…I'm…”

“What she's trying to say,” Dad interjects, looking at Mom with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, “is that, so far, he has demonstrated he's a responsible young man, and we're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

I mentally pick myself up off the floor. “Really. So he can, like, hang out in my room?”

Mom glares at Dad. “With the door open.”

I feel the ridiculous grin pull at my lips, and it's useless to try to stop it. “Yeah, okay.” I start to turn from the family room when something occurs to me. I wait for the pang in my heart to pass before I turn back. “How come I never had to keep the door open when Gabe was here?”

They look at each other and then at me. “Well…Gabe's just an angel,” Mom says.

I jump a little. I've got no comeback for that. He
is
an angel.
My angel.
And Luc quite definitely isn't. As I turn for the stairs, I feel the empty ache in my heart—the one I've been able to stave off only by keeping my mind on things other than Gabe and how much I miss him. I force myself to think of something else—anything else. I start to tick off my work schedule in my head as I climb the stairs, but I'm only up to Saturday when I reach the top and bump into Grace coming out of the bathroom.

She pulls the towel off her head, letting her wet hair fall around her shoulders and drip down her back. “You're home.”

I glare at her. “Not by choice. Luc's at the library.”

She just looks at me in her creepy, Grace-like way, like those pale blue eyes can see through me somehow. But as I start to brush past her, she says, “He's different.”

I spin back to her, irritated. “Who?”

“Luc. He's changed.”

I stare at her for a minute, not sure what to say, and suddenly I wonder just how much Grace really
does
see.

I nod. “He has.”

I turn and head up the hall, but just before I reach my room, she says, “How? Did you—? She trails off, her voice tentative.

When I turn back to her, her eyes are intense. There's no way she could know exactly how much Luc has changed, and there's no way she could know that I did it. But there's something in her gaze that makes me wonder. “Guess he's not as evil as you thought.”

As I push through my door, I hear her say, “But he was,” more to herself than to me.

I pick up my old copy of Stephen King's
The Stand
off my desk and lie on my bed, trying to get excited about it. But I can't stop wondering about Grace. How much does she know? I shake the conversation out of my head, pick up my phone, and text Taylor:
COME W/ME
2
THE COVE
2
NITE
.

A minute later, my phone buzzes.
NOT UP
4
THE COVE
, her message reads.

Whaaa?
Taylor's always up for the Cove. It gets kinda touristy, but the arcade is the nighttime hangout for the guys from school when there's no party at the Gallaghers'. She ogles the boys while I break my own record on the racetrack simulator. y not? I text back.

I wait.

And wait.

Just when I'm about to hit my speed dial to call her, my phone buzzes.
GOING OUT W/ LILI
, reads the text on my screen.

The jealous burn surprises me. This is what I wanted—Lili to make friends. I hit the Call button on my phone, and Taylor picks up on the first ring.

“Okay, I'll do that instead. Where are we going?”

“Sorry,” she says, and I feel myself getting really irritated. “We're going to a party Marc invited me to. Don't think it's your thing, Fee.”

I love parties. “Since when isn't a party my thing?”

“Listen, Fee…it's just that, for some unknown reason, you've become this stud magnet. I didn't miss Marc checking you out at Gallaghers' the other night, and I really don't want the competition tonight.”

“You're joking, right?”

“Um…no.”

“You can't be serious. You think I'm gonna steal guys from you?”

“Not on purpose, I guess, but…yeah.”

“Fine,” I say, and slam down the phone before disconnecting. “Well, that was mature,” I say to myself. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

But I know what's wrong with me. I don't really have any close friends, by design. Taylor's the safest person I could find to be friends with. She never asks me to give too much, and in return, I never take too much. So where all this needy clinging is coming from, I don't know. But it hurts a little that Lili is taking away what we've had for nine years. And it also scares me a little that I didn't realize till just now how much I was fooling myself that I didn't “need” anyone.

Matt

I hear her on the stairs as I wait in the hall, and my head starts to spin. I look down at my human form as I lean against the wall and try to look all casual. I should be doing something, not just standing here, looking like a stalker. She reaches the top of the stairs and I panic for a second, trying to figure out what that something should be. I slide down the wall and sit with my back against it. An old copy of Tolstoy's
War and Peace
materializes in my hand, and black-rimmed glasses materialize on my face. Going for the intellectual look. Can't hurt for her to think I'm smart.

I know Gabriel would be all over me for not staying with Frannie, but she's at the house behind Dad's field. She's safe there. No demon can get past that field.

So I'm here. I can't help it. I need to know her.

Lili rounds the corner from the stairwell, thumbing through her junk mail, and doesn't see me until she trips over my legs. She swears and looks down to see what she's tripped over. When she sees me, she backs away a few steps, eyes wide.

I pull myself to my feet. “Oh, I'm really sorry,” I say, shrugging and holding up my book.

Her eyes narrow as she sidles past me, keeping to the far wall. She backs a few steps toward her door. “What are you doing sitting in the hall?”

“Just waiting for Luc.” I gesture toward his door. “I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to scare you…or try to kill you,” I add with a smile.

That smile seems to do it, because she lowers her shoulders, and her defensive stance softens. “So you're waiting for Luc?”

“Yeah. I knocked, but no one answered.”

Her brows press together. “He said something about working late, I think.”

“Oh. Thanks. I guess I'll wait awhile.”

She turns back to her door without responding, but I swear I see the smallest of smiles curl her lips before she slides the key into the lock. My mood sinks when she pushes the door open and disappears through it. I hear a series of latches and deadbolts click into place as I stare after her.

I wait, hoping she'll reemerge, and I'm just about to phase back to the house when I hear the deadbolts and latches being undone again. The door cracks open and her head pokes through.

“So…you can wait in here if you want.”

“Thanks.”

I walk over and she just stares at me for a long, awkward minute. I'm not sure what I should say. But then she pulls the door wider. “You want a beer or something?”

My feet start through her door, and for just a second, the thought,
What are you doing?
shoots through my head. But I block it out as a giddy tingle courses through me. “Sure.”

She closes the door and I look around. The place is a mess. It looks just like Luc's, except there are dirty dishes and…junk, I guess, stacked everywhere. I spy the mail that was in her hand a minute ago strewn over a bigger pile of mail on the counter.

“Sorry, it's kind of a mess,” she says, stating the obvious. She picks a small stack of dishes up off the couch and dumps them onto a bigger stack in the sink. “Sit.”

I do.

She heads to the fridge and ducks into it, coming out with two beers. She comes over and sits on the couch next to me, close but not touching, and hands me one. The beer helps my dry mouth, and for a long time we make idle chitchat. My mind is racing, and I'm barely able to keep track of the conversation, but I'm glad that she doesn't ask anything that I can't answer.

“Another beer?” she asks, shaking her empty bottle and rising from the couch. Without her next to me, even though we weren't touching, it suddenly feels cold.

“I'm good.”

“So, I'm going to a party tonight,” she says, ducking her head into the fridge. She turns back to me. “I could ask my friend if she'd mind if you came.” She looks down and picks at the label on her bottle. “If you want.”

An electric buzz works through me. I know what I want to say, but…

“I already have…I can't. Sorry.” How lame. It's times like this that I wish I could lie.

“No problem,” she says, twisting the cap off her beer, but she still doesn't look at me.

“I really want to.” The gusto with which I say it brings heat to my face and I'm suddenly afraid I'm blushing. I didn't know that was possible with no blood.

She looks up at me then. “But you have a girlfriend.”

“No!”
Just shoot me.

“So why can't you come?”

“I'm supposed to be doing…something.” The same thing I always do.

“Blow it off.”

“Wish I could.”

Her gaze drops to her lap, but she smiles. “Story of my life. The good ones always have something better to do.”

She thinks I'm a “good one.” I feel all achy inside. Can angels have heart attacks? “Okay. I'll go.”

Her wide eyes snap to mine. “Really?”

“Sure.”

What am I doing?

Breaking the rules.

There's some strange feeling building in my core—like I'm imploding and exploding all at the same time. I shudder with the sensation and feel the smile break across my face. “Sure,” I say again.

I feel all jittery inside, wild, out of control. And I like it. This is what it feels like to make my own decisions. To do what I want. It feels amazing—like maybe I can actually have a life.

I wait in the hall while Lili changes, and when she emerges from the apartment, all rational thought leaves me. She's traded her gray sweats for jeans and a loose black top. Her hair is pulled back into a makeshift bun, and she's beautiful. “Wow.”

Sweet Heaven above, why can't I keep my mouth shut?

But when she cracks a smile and blushes, I decide maybe I didn't screw up too bad. I can't take my eyes off her as we head for her truck and drive to pick up Taylor. When we pull into her driveway, it's a little weird pretending I've never been here before, after all the time I've spent on this front porch while Frannie was hanging out here. Taylor comes bopping out and pulls open the passenger door of the truck. When she sees me, her eyes widen for a moment before a lascivious smile spreads across her face.

“Ooh…good girl, Lili.”

“I'm Matt,” I say, holding out my hand.

She takes it and uses it to pull herself into the truck. I slide into the middle of the bench seat and she slides in so our legs are touching. “Taylor,” she says as her eyes eat me alive.

Lili leans forward and looks around me at Taylor. “Hope it's okay.”

“Boys are always okay, Lili. Especially boys this yummy,” she says, pressing her shoulder into mine and grinning.

We drive to the north edge of Boston, into a neighborhood of desolate old brownstones. Every so often, there are groups of people hovering on the sidewalks—some teenagers, some homeless. Everything looks gray: the buildings, the cars, the people. The whole place has the feel of desperation and hopelessness.

“Here,” Taylor says, pointing to a free parking spot between a sea of Harleys and an old black hearse.

Lili pulls into the spot as Taylor turns off her GPS and slides it into her bag. “How'd you hear about this party?” Lili asks, eyeing the hearse and looking a little unsure.

Taylor's eyes gleam. “This totally hot guy. He plays in a band.”

Lili still doesn't look sure, but she opens the door and steps slowly out into the road. I slide out behind her and walk with her around the truck to meet Taylor, where she stands on the sidewalk.

We walk toward a brownstone on the corner, from which a very loud cover of Jimi Hendrix's “Purple Haze” emanates. A group of teenage guys standing on the corner starts the catcalls. No doubt Taylor looks good, and her short black skirt is designed to attract attention.

The door is open and we walk in. Instantly, the sweet smell of pot wafts down the short, dark hallway into our faces. We follow the music and smoke up the hall to a nearly dark room crammed with undulating bodies. In here, the smoke mingles with the rawer scents of sweat and musk, flooding my mind with visions of primal needs being fulfilled. I feel my own desires stir, and pull a deep breath.