Cyndra stumbled, caught her balance. Her eyes darted around. She lifted her chin.
“See you there later,” Michael said. He nodded at me like it was important I see him. To see that he was dismissing me. That he was still in control, had finished with me after getting what he’d wanted. What had he wanted more—the fight or the gun?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On the way out, I stood by the door, waiting for Cyndra to finish her good-byes. Partiers eddied around me, yelling boasts and knocking plastic cups together in toasts.
Someone stumbled into me.
“Oh. Sorry,” Nico slurred, then smiled when he saw who it was he’d fallen against. “Jason! The man we’re looking for!”
He turned and waved Spud over. We clasped hands briefly. I wanted to ask my stoner friends if they were in the habit of attending King-of-the-Mountain parties.
They seemed comfortable enough.
Nico tipped his head. We eased back toward the door. He leaned in close, dropping his voice.
“We want some. For later. You holding?”
Anger match-struck in my chest. It flared out fast, though. They were wasted, and it wasn’t like we were really close to begin with.
I thought they knew me better than that, though.
At least they knew me well enough not to mention, or perhaps even notice, my jaw.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Nico.”
Nico leaned back. Squinted up at me. Shifted the knitted beanie he wore with a quizzical scratch.
Spud gave him an assist. “Dude, it’s cool. We’ve got money.” He fumbled in a pocket.
“Listen to me.” My eyes speared their attention. Spud quit digging for the money. “I don’t have any of that crap.”
“Dude,” Spud breathed. He could give the word a hundred different meanings. This time it was filled with not-cool betrayal.
Nico shook his head, still scratching at his beanie. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
It fell in my mind like a missing puzzle piece. And then I really did feel stupid.
Of course it would look to all the world that I was dealing drugs to the rich kids. The new clothes. The mysterious and sudden elevation to their social strata.
And Michael had to know it. Had to want that puzzle taking shape.
So if I wasn’t dealing to them . . . who was?
“It’s not me.” I looked between them.
Nico nodded.
“Dude.” Spud held out a fist. I bumped it.
“I need a favor,” I told them. Spud crossed his arms and took a wide stance, like a badass bouncer, ready for anything the crowd could throw at him. Nico nodded and fiddled with his beanie again.
“When you find out who it is, tell me.”
Nico nodded.
“Ready to go?” Cyndra asked. She curled a hand around my bicep.
Spud’s eyes slid over her spangled dress. Pinballed between her legs and chest. I slapped hands with Nico and Spud. Cyndra and I left.
In the car, I leaned my throbbing head against the seat. Let my thoughts slow. It didn’t matter what anyone thought. Including Michael. It didn’t matter who was dealing drugs or that Michael wanted everyone to think it was me.
I’d worry about it later. I’d figure it out.
Back at Michael’s house, Cyndra led me to the downstairs bar, where Michael had first hired me.
Hard to believe it was only three days ago.
“Guess Michael’s parents are at a party, too, right?” I asked. It was obvious no one was home. “Wonder if they’ll play One Hit?”
Cyndra laughed. “Who knows. Travel and work, that’s them. They’re never home. I swear, I think they only have a house because it’s what people do.”
I looked around the empty room, trying to imagine what kind of problems come from being alone in so much space.
I couldn’t think of any.
“Have a drink?” Cyndra was already fixing herself one.
My head throbbed. I still felt a little fuzzy—like everything was happening apart from me.
“No thanks.” I sat down.
“Not here. Follow me.” Cyndra turned and carried her drink into another room. She disappeared, and a light switched on. She came back and stood in the doorway. The dim light glinted off her short dress.
“In here.” Her fingers toyed with the edge of the dress.
I walked to her. “I feel like hell. Do you know where an aspirin or something is?”
Cyndra stuck out her lip. “Poor Jason.” Her fingers brushed the hair off my face. My hand twitched—wanting to knock her hand away, or catch it and pull her closer.
“Seriously,” I said. “Do you have something?”
Cyndra took a step closer. So close I could feel her breath. She turned around, brushing against me.
The dress lifted.
“‘No fun tonight, dear,’” she singsonged, “‘I have a headache.’”
My pulse anviled in my temples. My jaw felt swollen and wet.
Anger burst like a flare. I caught her arm and twisted it behind her back. She gasped as I propelled her into the room and pushed her down onto the giant bed.
She arched back into me.
My head splintered. Part of me wanted to give her what she wanted.
The other part hated her.
I let go and stood. “It was a mistake coming here.” I made it to the door before she caught up.
“Jason, stop.”
My arm whipped out of her grasp. “I. Feel. Like. Hell.” Each word gritted in my teeth.
“I’m sorry!” Her hands opened. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I mean—I thought you’d like—” She held up a hand. “Wait. Okay? Wait. I know where some medicine is.” She turned and went to a bathroom attached to the bedroom. The sounds of opening drawers and cabinets crashed in my ears.
“Don’t go, okay? I didn’t mean to make you mad.” She came back—holding out a red-capped bottle. “See? Extra strength.” Her eyes were wide, glistening in the dim light. A wisp of hair dangled near her mouth and puffed with her breath.
I grabbed the bottle.
“I’ll get you some water,” she said.