During the New Year’s party, Brainzilla is everywhere—hostessing, busing, smoothing linens, soothing egos. She never has enough money and always has a million jobs, and the amazing thing is that she’s good at everything. Who’s that Indian goddess? The one with all the arms? Shakti—that’s Brainzilla.
After three straight days of parties, all the country club members start to look alike to me. I have this fantasy that everyone at the club has the same mother. They must at least be cousins, right? What’s the probability of there being that many people with great skin in the same room? It has to be genetics.
“May I have this dance?” Marty Bloom catches my elbow gently and stops me at the edge of the dance floor. It takes me a moment to recognize him. He’s wearing a tuxedo with the bow tie dangling loose, and he looks very James Bond-y and dangerously handsome.
I nod at the tray in my hands. “I’m working.”
“Just one dance.”
“No, really, I can’t—” But he has taken my tray and placed it on the bar. “Okay, I need that back—” Ignoring my words, he takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor. It feels strange to be touching Bloom. His hand is warm and large, and I spend a lot of time worrying that mine is small and sweaty, and wishing that someone made hand antiperspirant.
The band is playing some sort of slow swing thing. Marty wraps his arms around my waist, which means that I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck, which makes me feel a little dizzy and awkward. I’m so close to Bloom that I can smell the cinnamon scent of his breath. Mints? Gum? He smells delicious.
I catch Eggy scowling at me from the edge of the dance floor. What are you doing? she mouths.
I shrug, and a little shiver runs through me. Bloom is tall, and I’m enjoying standing next to him. He rests his chin on my head, and I feel strangely safe.
And just as I’m enjoying that feeling, someone taps me on the shoulder.
Chapter 25
GET BACK TO WORK
Excuse me, Ms. Clarke.” The hard brown eyes of my manager—Mr. Wong—are boring into my skull. “You’re supposed to be working, not dancing.”
“Oh, sorry—I just…” I pull away from Bloom, but he takes my hand again.
“Excuse me,” Bloom says, flashing a brilliant smile. “I’ve asked Ms. Clarke to dance with me. You don’t mind—do you?”
“Actually, I do.” Mr. Wong folds his arms across his chest. “People are waiting for their orders.”
Bloom scans the room, as if he’s only just noticed the tables. “Oh, I’m sure these people can wait. I know my father—right over there—can.” He waves at his father, who grins and waves back.
Mr. Wong’s face goes pale. “Oh, you’re Albert Bloom’s son?”
“That’s right,” Bloom says.
Mr. Wong’s eyes dart from Bloom to me to Mr. Bloom. “Oh, well—” Mr. Wong straightens his tie. “Well, Ms. Clarke, I don’t think a little dance will hurt anyone. Go ahead, go ahead. Ha, ha! You kids have fun!” He claps Bloom on the back, and I watch him scurry away.
“Wow,” I say. “Cool.”
Bloom’s shoulder rises, then dips. “Everyone’s afraid of my dad.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“It’s not that awesome,” Marty says, and a strange look flashes across his face, which disappears as quickly as it came. “But it is useful sometimes. So, Maggie—let me ask you something.” Marty lifts my arm, and I twirl.
“Why do you spend so much time with Tebow and those other guys?” Marty asks.
I feel suddenly wary, as if Marty is trying to catch me in a trap. “Well—they’re kind to me,” I say carefully. “They get me. And I know I can count on them when I need it.”
Marty looks thoughtful. “But they’re so weird.”
“Everyone is,” I reply, “once you get to know them.”
“Interesting,” he says, and—bam!—I feel like I’ve totally scored one for Operation Happiness.
I dance with Marty until the band strikes up a new song, at which point my manager looks like he’s about to bust a vein in his forehead, so I excuse myself and dash off to fill more drink orders.
“What was that?” Eggy demands while I’m waiting at the bar.
Out of nowhere, Brainzilla appears at my shoulder. “Why were you dancing with a Hater?”
“He’s not as bad as you guys think,” I say.
“He’s worse,” Eggy snaps.
“I thought we weren’t going to be so judgmental,” I remind her.
“That doesn’t mean that we’re tossing all our judgment out the window,” Brainzilla shoots back.
I wonder. Can people change?
Chapter 26
SHOCK TREATMENT
Don’t go,” Brainzilla says.
Marty just offered me a ride home. Eggy’s shift ended two hours ago and mine just ticked “done,” and I’m ready to drop. As a shift lead, Brainzilla still has to finish counting receipts, which could take another hour.
“I’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Brainzilla promises. “You know I’m fast. And Mom is already on the way.”
“If I wait here, I’ll probably fall asleep at the bar,” I say. “I’m telling you, Marty is an Operation Happiness waiting to happen.”
I wipe down the counter and then yank off my apron. My feet feel like concrete blocks at the ends of my legs.
I wish someone would go ahead and invent that beaming-up technology they have on Star Trek. Forget the Internet—I want to get beamed straight to bed.
“All right, all right,” Brainzilla says. “See you tomorrow.”
I lean over the counter to give my bestie a peck on the cheek, then head toward the coatroom, where Marty is already waiting for me. He’s actually holding my coat when I arrive, and I’m just about ready to promote the guy to Bona Fide Human Being.
Marty holds the door for me as we step outside, and he escorts me to his beautiful car, waiting as I slip into the comfortable seat. He closes the door, shutting me inside the dark cocoon. Wow. Plush leather. And it’s so clean on the inside. My mom’s car was always approximately 80 percent candy bar wrappers.
Marty settles into his seat and looks over at me. I smile at him. “Thanks for the ride” is about to spill from my lips—when he grabs my wrist and lays his mouth on mine. I try to speak, but his lips stop my voice, his boozy breath stinking up my nostrils. He must have spent the past three hours with a bottle of gin, because his cinnamon scent has disappeared.
I push against him, but his grip tightens. He’s smothering me, crushing me. Adrenaline courses through me, but the more I fight to get away, the stronger he seems, and fear starts to choke me.
I try to scream, and Marty shoves his hand over my mouth as his other hand reaches up my skirt. The fear really starts to get me, and I think, I’ll never get him off. I’m not strong enough—I can’t fight him, and just at that moment, I remember something that Flatso told me: “The jaw is the strongest muscle in the body.”
So I bite down on his hand.
Hard.
Bloom bleeds all over the place, and I spill out of the car and onto the freezing asphalt.
“Kooks?” Brainzilla is there—she hauls me to my feet, takes one look at Marty, screaming and bleeding in his car and slams the door, silencing him.