Gluttony

Chapter 2

Adam grabbed a towel and tried to cover himself, but it was too late. Harper had seen everything. Every tan, muscled, gleaming inch of him. She felt faint, and it was all she could do not to lunge across the bathroom and sweep him into her arms, perfect body and all. But she forced herself to stop, and remember: She and Adam were no longer best friends, as they’d been for half their lives. They were no longer in love-lovers, she told herself, her mind lingering on the word-as they’d been for too short a time. They were… nothing. And she intended to treat him as such.

“What the hell are you doing in our room?” she snapped, trying to regain her equilibrium. Don’t look at his chest, she told herself. Don’t look at his shoulders. Don’t look at his arms. Don’t look… This was maybe not the most effective strategy.

“Your room?” Adam tugged the towel tighter around himself and took a step forward, as if to escape the bathroom-which would mean his half-naked body brushing right past Harper’s, a fact he seemed to realize just in time. He stopped. “This is our room. We checked in hours ago!”

“And ’we’ would be…?”

“Me. Kane. We. Our room.”

And then it all made sense. “Very funny, Geary,” she muttered to herself. “Very cute.” When Kane had offered to pay for her and Miranda’s room for the weekend, Harper had figured it was just an uncharacteristically gallant gesture, an extravagant birthday present for Miranda. (And not that extravagant: According to the website, rooms at the Camelot went for sixty bucks a night.) She should have known better.

“Harper, look,” Adam began, “since you’re here, maybe we can-”

“I’m out of here,” Harper snapped. Why couldn’t Adam just give it up? He couldn’t get that if he didn’t want a relationship with her, she wasn’t about to accept his friendship as a consolation prize. Not when she knew what he really thought of her. But he just wouldn’t take no for an answer, and kept forcing her into these painful state of the union talks. As if she didn’t want him in her life, desperately. As if it didn’t kill her to remember all the things he’d said when he’d broken her heart, how he hated her, how he could never trust her again, all because she’d made a few not-so-tiny mistakes. And then his belated and halfhearted offer of forgiveness, just because of the accident, just because she’d gotten hurt and Kaia had-

No. She’d resolved not to think about any of that this weekend. She was taking a vacation from her pain and her guilt and everything else that had been weighing her down. Kane knew that, and was still pulling this crap? Unacceptable.

But she should have known better than to expect even a brief escape from Adam. Only one thing would make him give up the fight. If he ever found out what she had done to Kaia, Harper knew that would be the end of it. Of everything. And she wasn’t ready for that; all the more reason to get away.

She backed out of the bathroom and, without a word of explanation to Miranda, rushed out of the hotel room in search of her target.

“Harper, wait!” Adam called down the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder and, sure enough, he was standing in the hall in only a towel, flagging her down. She didn’t stop-but grinned to herself when she realized that he’d let the door slam and lock behind him.

Just before reaching the elevator, she heard a loud thud and a shouted curse.

Apparently he’d realized it too.

Kane sighed and, reluctantly, tore himself away from the stunning blonde to answer his ringing phone. He allowed Harper about thirty seconds of ranting before cutting her off. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in five,” he promised, snapping the phone shut before she had a chance to respond. He had been expecting her call and, though the face-off could easily be avoided for hours, he preferred to get all potential interruptions out of the way now. The blonde could wait.

This weekend was too important, and his plans too delicate, to risk interference from a wild card like Harper. And from the sound of it, she was about to get pretty wild.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she raged, as soon as he came into sight.

“Nice to see you, too, Grace,” Kane said dryly, spreading out on one of the Camelot’s threadbare couches. The pattern had likely once been intended to resemble a medieval tapestry, but now it just looked like Technicolor puke. “Have a good drive?”

“Lovely, thanks for asking.” As if the sarcasm had sapped all her energy, she sank into a chair beside him. “Seriously, Kane, what’s the deal?”

“The deal with…?”

“Adam? In my room? Taking a shower? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Kane smiled innocently. “Adam’s up in our room-yours, mine, his. Ours. Think of it as one big happy family.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to mention that this was the plan?”

Kane shrugged. “Did you think I was going to pay for two hotel rooms? I’m not a bank, Grace.”

“I-” Her mouth snapped shut, and he knew why. Given that he was footing the bill for the trip, it would be pretty tacky of her to complain about the lodgings. And Harper Grace was never tacky. “I just would have liked some advance notice, that’s all,” she said sullenly. “You didn’t have to ambush me.”

“If I’d told you ahead of time, you wouldn’t have come,” Kane pointed out. Adam and Harper had been feuding for a month now, and Kane was getting sick of it. Not because he felt some goody-two-shoes need to play peacemaker, he told himself. Just because there weren’t too many people whose presence he could tolerate; it was troublesome when they refused to share breathing room.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, a hint of a whine entering her voice. “Make nice and pretend like nothing ever happened between us? Not gonna happen.”

“Not my problem, Grace,” Kane told her. “Talk to him, don’t talk to him, I don’t care.” Not much, at least. “But this is the only room you’ve got, so unless you don’t plan on sleeping or bathing this weekend-and, no offense, but I think you’re already overdue on the latter-you should probably get used to it.”

“But-”

“Gotta go,” he said quickly, bouncing off the couch. “The most beautiful blonde in all the land is waiting for her knight in shining armor to arrive. I’m hoping to show up first.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and, miracle of miracles, she cracked a smile. “Now, your mission, and you have no choice but to accept it: Chill out, shower, then grab Miranda and meet me down here in one hour. We’re going out.”

Harper checked her watch and rolled her eyes. “Geary, it’s the middle of the night, and some of us have been on the road for an eternity.”

Kane shook his head. “Grace, this is Vegas.” Why was he the only person capable of understanding the concept? “Night doesn’t exist here. It’s a nonstop party, and we’re already late.”

“I don’t know…”

“Since when does Harper Grace turn down a party?”

He knew perfectly well since when. That was why he’d insisted she come this weekend and why he’d dragged Adam along for the ride. Harper had been on the sidelines long enough-it was time for her to get back into the game. Whether she wanted to or not.

It was good pot-strong, smooth, decently pure-but not good enough to help Beth sleep through Fish and Hale’s impromptu jam session. (Featuring Hale’s off-key humming and Fish banging Beth’s hairbrush against the wall for a drumbeat.) After an hour of tossing and turning, she finally gave up on trying to sleep-only to discover that Reed was wide awake, lying on his side and staring at her.

“What?” she asked, giggling at the goofy expression on his face.

“Nothing.” He gave her a secretive smile, then a kiss. “Let’s get out of here.”

Still clad in her T-shirt and purple pajama shorts, she crawled out of bed and followed him out the door. They headed downstairs in search of the pool, running into half the Haven High senior class on their way.

Beth didn’t care who saw her or how she looked. Only one person’s opinion mattered to her these days, and only one person’s presence made any difference.

Make that two.

Beth saw her first, and tried to dart down a hallway before they were spotted, but it was too late.

“Well, this is just great,” Harper said, lightly smacking her forehead. “As if my weekend weren’t perfect enough.”

Just ignore her, Beth told herself. She didn’t want to get into any more fights with Harper-and not just because she always lost. Yes, Harper had done her best to ruin Beth’s life-but Beth’s attempt at revenge had nearly succeeded in ruining Harper, permanently. Just as she would always bear the guilt for Kaia’s death-Don’t think about that, she reminded herself-she would always know that Harper could just as easily have been the one who’d died. Harper was the one who’d landed in the hospital, gone through painful rehabilitation, emerged pale, withdrawn, and the object of too much curiosity and not a little scorn. They were more than even, although Harper would never-could never-know it.

But forgiveness was easier said than done. And even the sight of Harper still made Beth’s stomach twist.

“Hey, Harper,” she said softly. Reed pressed a hand against her lower back, as if sensing her need for support.

Harper’s eyes skimmed over Beth without stopping and zeroed in on Reed. “Having fun with the new girlfriend?” she asked, disdain dripping from her voice. “Guess it’s easy for some people to forget.”

Harper tried to push past them, but Reed’s arm darted out and grabbed her. Just let it go, Beth pleaded silently, wanting only for the moment to end quickly, without bloodshed. But she could tell from the look on his face and the tension in his body that he’d already been wounded.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he told Harper, in a low, dangerous voice. “Kaia would have-”

“Don’t say her name,” Harper ordered him, her voice tight and her face strained. “Don’t say anything. Just enjoy yourself. I’m so sure”-though it wouldn’t have seemed possible, her tone grew even more sarcastic-“that’s what she would have wanted.”

A moment later, Harper was gone, and Reed was the one who needed support. But when Beth tried to touch him, he stepped away.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, knowing he wouldn’t understand what she was apologizing for.

“It’s not you.” He wouldn’t look at her. “It’s nothing.”

When they first met, he had talked about Kaia nonstop. But something had changed-Beth never knew what, never wanted to ask. Reed had kissed her and, after that, never spoken of Kaia again. There were moments when his voice drifted off and his eyes stared at something very far away, and she knew, then, that he was wishing for something he couldn’t have. But he never said it out loud.

And, though she knew she shouldn’t be, Beth was glad. Because the only way she could be with Reed was to force herself to forget. Kaia had died because of her-no, phrasing it that way avoided the truth. She had killed Kaia. Accidentally, maybe, but killed nonetheless. And now, reluctantly, guiltily, but undeniably, Beth had taken her place.

She wrapped her fingers around Reed’s, half fearing he would pull away. He didn’t-but he still wouldn’t meet her eves. “Let’s go find the pool,” she murmured. He nodded, and she squeezed his hand. He felt so solid, and so safe. He wouldn’t disappear, she reassured herself. He would never leave her alone.

Unless he found out the truth.

Then he would be gone forever.

“Down to business,” Kane said, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. “How should we kick things off? Blackjack? Poker?”

As Harper and Adam began bickering about where to start-Adam voted blackjack, so Harper, obviously, voted roulette-Miranda lagged behind. She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know how to play any of the standard casino games-though she had a vague idea, courtesy of Ocean’s Eleven, that roulette wouldn’t actually require anything other than choosing a color. She’d rented the DVD in anticipation of the big trip, but had been too distracted by George Clooney to glean much more information than that.

She would have been happy enough to spend the whole weekend without coming face-to-face with a dealer, since surely they’d take one look at her height (or lack thereof) and sallow babyface and show her the door. Or whatever it was they did in Vegas when they busted you for a fake ID.

But she didn’t want to seem timid or clueless, not in front of Kane-and especially not when he was giving her that anything-goes smile-so she shut up. She was trying to be on her best behavior this weekend. Or rather, her most mature, most carefree, most badass, most Kane-appropriate behavior-especially now that she knew they’d be sharing a room. Okay, so there were two beds and two other people. And Vegas was filled with girls who were much more his type. Maybe it was a statistical impossibility that anything would happen. But Miranda couldn’t help letting her imagination have a little fun.

This was, after all, Vegas, where anything could happen… which meant that, despite the odds, something might.

In the end, they compromised, deciding to start slow, with the slots.

All the action was over at the tables-the slot machines seemed solely the territory of the blue-haired ladies and a few caved-in old men with bad toupees, waiting for the big payoff. Miranda dug into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of quarters, plugging them into a rain-forest-themed machine that touted itself as the Green Monster. She put her hand on the long, silver lever, then sucked in her breath as a warm, strong grip closed over hers.

“Feeling lucky, beautiful?” Kane murmured from behind her.

Miranda bit down on the corners of her mouth in a pointless attempt to suppress a smile. Was he too thinking about the last time they’d been in a casino together, the last time-the only time-they’d kissed?

Doubtful. For Miranda, it had been the culmination of five years of hoping, dreaming, waiting; for Kane, she knew, it had just been a fast way to liven up a slow afternoon.

Still, he was here, so close that she could feel his chest just grazing her back, and she knew that all she’d have to do was step backward and she would be in his arms.

She stayed where she was, and pulled the lever.

Too late, Miranda thought to wonder: What if she hit the jackpot? If the movies were any guide-and, really, if the movies weren’t an accurate guide to life, she was totally screwed, since they were pretty much her sole source of information-sirens would blare. Coins would pour out. People would cheer and stare. And the security guards would sweep her away before she could touch a dime.

There was no siren, no jackpot, no cash-and the man who lurched toward her, his breath reeking of gin and his meaty hands grabbing at her chest, was no security guard.

“You’re a liar!” he slurred, his hand tightening around Miranda’s shoulder as he staggered against her.

“Get the hell off,” Kane snapped, shoving himself against the drunk, who squeezed even tighter, nearly pulling Miranda down with him as he stumbled to the floor. For a moment that lasted too long, she was falling, stubby fingers biting into her skin, a leering smile spreading across the man’s scarred face. She tugged, she pulled, but his grasp only tightened, and though she tried to scream, her breath caught in her throat, and he was still pulling her down, still grinning, would never let go, and she was powerless, weak-alone.

And then, just in time, Kane ripped her arm free. Miranda shook him off too, and crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing tight and trying to catch her breath. She told herself that nothing had actually happened. No reason to panic, she was fine.

Too out of it to pull himself up, the guy writhed on his back like a crab, pointing at Miranda and howling, “Liar!” She couldn’t look away. “You’re all liars!”

“Can we get a little help here?” Kane called, waving down a swarm of security guards.

Miranda was dimly aware that Harper and Adam had joined her on either side, that Adam’s hand was pressing down firmly, protectively on her shoulder-that she was shaking. But none of it really registered.

“It’s all going to come out,” the drunk moaned, as the guards hauled him off the floor. “No more secrets,” he hissed. “Not here.” The guards grabbed his arms and began to drag him away, slicing through the crowd of gamblers and disappearing behind the glittering slot machines. A moment later, his howls faded away. There was only giddy laughter, clanging machines, canned jazz, and the occasional hoot of victory. The sounds of Vegas. Like nothing had ever happened.

“You okay?” they all asked Miranda, who nodded like she was.

She forced a smile. “What an asshole, right?”

Crisis averted, Kane’s smirk reappeared. “He’s right, you know. About Vegas. Everyone here’s a liar, but…” He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in an exaggerated scowl. “It takes a damn good liar to beat Vegas. This is the city of truth.”

Adam dropped his hand from Miranda’s shoulder and stepped quickly away, and she wondered whether he was thinking the same thing she was. Their secret-one drunken night together, a hookup she barely remembered, a memory they’d both agreed to forget, to bury forever-could ruin everything. And there was no reason for anyone to ever find out-no reason for Harper to find out.

Unless Kane was right. Unless there was something here, something in the air, in the oversize drinks or the adrenaline rush, something that forced secrets into the light… Miranda stole a glance at Harper, whose face was ghostly pale, her eyes darting back and forth between Miranda and Adam, her lip trembling.

And Miranda had a horrible thought. She’d worried for weeks that Harper would find out what had happened, would misinterpret an innocent, unimportant, drunken mistake as something more than it was. Something unforgivable.

But what if all that worrying had been a waste-what if Harper already knew?

All she had wanted was an escape. A return to normalcy.

What an idiot.

Of course Kane was right, Harper thought bleakly. Of course this was where the secrets came out to play-everyone drunk all the time, never sleeping, pushing themselves to the limit, letting their guard down. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

It was her disaster. What if they found out somehow? The image forced itself back into her head, the one she’d been trying to forget-the one she’d driven hundreds of miles to escape. Her hands on the wheel, her foot on the gas pedal, the world spinning. The flames.

They all pitied her now, which was bad enough. If they found out she’d been the one behind the wheel, if Adam found out…

She told herself she didn’t care what he thought, not anymore. But she knew he could never forgive her for being a murderer. Why should he? It’s not like she had found a way to forgive herself.

Two days, she thought. Forty-eight hours. If she could survive, stay sane, stay hidden, keep the real her-the unforgivable her-under wraps for the weekend, it would be a sign. She had hoped for a vacation from the torment of her life, but maybe that wasn’t what she needed. Maybe she needed one final test, proof that she could put the past behind her and focus on normal life, that she could live with keeping quiet, that she could go on, even here. She would survive Vegas, and that would be proof-she could survive anything.

“Forget the drama, guys,” Kane said, drawing the group toward the exit. “We’re wasting valuable party time.”

“I’m, uh, thinking I might get some sleep,” Miranda said, staring at the ground.

“Yeah.” Adam’s gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

“Maybe they’re right, Kane-” Harper began.

“What the hell is this?” He pointed ahead of them to the giant neon sign blinking a few feet away: MIDNIGHT MAGIC BUFFET-24-HOUR FEAST. “It’s two-for-one drinks night. What are we waiting for?”

“No more drinking tonight,” Adam said. “Not for me.”

Kane gaped at the three of them as if they’d sprouted antennae. Then he nodded with sudden understanding. “I get it.” He grinned. “I spooked you. Look. I’m sure none of us have any secrets…”

He turned to Harper, who met his stare without flinching. He knew what she had to lose-and she knew he was daring her to chicken out.

“But let’s just say, hypothetically, we all do,” he continued. “So I suggest a pact. We’ll hit the buffet and drink to it. Anything we find out about each other this weekend… well, it doesn’t count. All secrets forgotten as soon as we leave the city limits. After all, what happens in Vegas-”

“I don’t drink to lines that are so old, they have mold growing on them,” Harper snapped.

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Kane finished, arching an eyebrow. “Agreed?”

They nodded, and they shook on it. Not that it mattered. Harper knew she was the only one with a secret that really meant something-and there was no way in hell she was risking exposure. Pact or no pact.

“Good. Let’s get some cocktails and make it official,” Kane ordered, charging toward the buffet. “Eat, drink, and be merry, folks, for tomorrow-we do it all over again.”

Reed was buzzed.

But it wasn’t the drugs. It was her. It was the blond hair, the blue eyes, the cotton-candy lips-all of it like a doll, a picture in a magazine. Picture perfect, but so real, and so unpredictable, starting with her inescapable, unbelievable choice: him. From honor roll to rolling blunts, from superstar to slacker-he didn’t even remember how she’d woven her way into his life. She’d just appeared. As if he’d been asleep and then, on waking, there she was. Part of him.

After Kaia… Beth had helped him. Not to forget-never, he had promised himself. But Beth had helped him survive the remembering. To live.

He had never asked her why she was hanging around the slums of his life, maybe because he knew it wouldn’t last. But Reed had never before cared about the future. Why start now?

“Guess I should have changed into a bathing suit,” Beth said, stretching out on the edge of the pool and skimming her bare toes across the water. “We could have gone in the hot tub.”

Reed had only ever been in one hot tub in his life, and it was a part of his life that was over now. It’ll be fun, he heard Kaia’s voice say, somewhere in the depths of memory. Promise.

“I don’t do bathing suits,” Reed said, and-except for that one time-it was true. He gestured down to his black AC/DC T-shirt and dark, well-worn jeans, his standard uniform. “This is it.”

Beth stood up, her long legs mostly bare beneath the sheer pajama shorts, and joined him on the lounge chair. He scooted over to give her room, but she barely needed any, stretching out alongside him, wrapping an arm over his chest and twining her legs with his. The pool area was nearly empty.

“You can’t see the stars here,” she mused, resting her cheek against his to look up at the sky. “Too many lights. It’s weird.”

They’d both grown up under the bright, too-clear desert night sky, where civilization-or what passed for it in Grace-faded away just after nightfall. The city haze was disconcerting, like the sky was closing in on them-or like the stars had disappeared altogether. “Get used to it,” he warned her. “Next year…”

“Yeah, next year.” She fell silent, and in that silence, he saw it all: graduation, summer, and then the day she packed up her stuff and moved to L.A., to college, leaving him to his deadbeat, dead-end life. “About that…,” she murmured. “I’m not going.”

Reed didn’t say anything.

“I’m not-it’s not what I want anymore,” she said softly, and he could feel her arm tighten around him. She was still searching for the stars. “Maybe if I’d gotten into Berkeley, things would be… maybe if a lot of things had happened, or hadn’t happened, or-” She stopped, and shivered against him. He began rubbing his hand up and down her arm. “It’s not me anymore,” she finally said. “It’s not what I want.”

“So next year, you’re just going to…?”

“Stay in Grace. Stay with-” She turned away from the sky, toward him, and rested her hand gently against his cheek. “I know we don’t really talk about-I mean, we’ve never, about next year, but I thought you might… be… happy.”

Happy that she’d given up the only dream she’d ever had, to get the hell out of Grace and move on to something better? Happy that, ever since they’d gotten together, she’d never talked about what she wanted or where she was going, had just lain around on the couch with him listening to his music and smoking his pot? Happy that, unlike him, she had a real future, and she was giving it up?

“Yeah,” he said, tipping his head forward and kissing her, still overwhelmed by the taste and feel of her lips, as much as he had been the first time. “I guess I am.”

They stuffed themselves on prime rib, shrimp cocktail, fresh fruit in a honey-lime yogurt sauce, jalepeño poppers, garlic-roasted pork loin, fried chicken wings, meat loaf, mashed potatoes, several hearty helpings of chocolate cheesecake and, since none of the half-asleep Midnight Magic staffers seemed to doubt their flimsy IDs, several pitchers of beer.

Merry was an understatement.

“Thish is awesome,” Miranda slurred as they stumbled up the Strip back to their hotel. All her ridiculous fears about secrets and lies had long since been forgotten. “I love Vegas.”

“Viva Las Vegas!” Harper shouted, flinging her arms in the air. “We love you!”

No one even bothered to stare.

“Shhhh!” Miranda spit out the warning, along with a frothy spray of saliva, and gave Harper a light push-or not so light, as it nearly knocked both of them to the ground.

“Steady,” Kane cautioned, pulling her back up. Miranda wanted to say something filled with sparkling wit and sex appeal, but the world was spinning and all she could think to say was, “Woo-hoo! Vegas!”

And then she saw it. Saw him. Twenty feet tall, looming over their heads. Jared Max, lead singer of the Crash Burners, her absolute, all-time favorite band. Jared Max was a rock god-hotter than Adam Levine. Hotter than Justin T. Hotter, even, than Kane.

Miranda sank to her knees in the middle of the sidewalk. “Harper,” she gasped. “Harper. Look.” She pointed, tipping her head away from the billboard as if it blazed like the face of God.

Crash Burners-LIVE

One Night Only

And a bright yellow band slung across the image, blotting out the drummer’s head. SOLD OUT!

“Harper,” she moaned. “They’re heeeeere. And we’re missing it.”

Harper joined Miranda on the ground as the guys gaped at them, obviously unable to understand the crisis at hand.

“We’re going,” Harper said, throwing her arms around Miranda.

“Sold out,” Miranda keened, her brain too clogged with fatigue and liquor to form complete sentences, much less rational thought.

“We’re going, birthday babe,” Harper cried, letting herself fall backward on the sidewalk and squealing as Adam hauled her to her feet. “I promise.”

My turn, Miranda thought blissfully, watching Adam prop Harper upright and then turning to stare at Kane, trying to send him a silent message. “Come and get me.”

Or had she said that part out loud?

Kane laughed and grabbed her hands, hoisting her up. She didn’t want to let go, so instead she let herself sag against him, the Crash Burners and the amazing, inaccessible Jared Max entirely forgotten.

Kane might not have been quite as hot, and he might have been half drunk and all tone deaf, but he was there, he was real and, if only for the too-brief duration of the walk home, he was all hers.