KIRA
“Whoa,” Iris said.
There was already a steady morning hum of conversation at Bradley’s. The smell of fresh coffee and bagels was doing wonderful things in my nostrils. I should have been feeling relieved to have my first day as a teacher behind me. I’d survived, even if it was with a few bumps and bruises.
Instead, I was watching Iris and Miranda run their hands over the invitation as if it were a letter from Hogwarts that had just propelled itself from the fireplace in a puff of pink smoke.
“The lettering is even engraved,” Miranda noted. “Not cheap, at least as far as invitations go.”
“This part seems handwritten,” Iris said, tapping where my name was added to the typed invitation in flowing cursive letters.
“Is that coming from your extensive knowledge of crime scene investigation?” I asked.
Iris chuckled. “It’s coming from the fact that it seems handwritten. Just look at it. Fonts don’t work like that. See? The letters don’t even line up perfectly at the bottom. And this little jagged part here is where they slipped.”
“Still way fancier than my handwriting,” I said.
“If you put a pen between a monkey’s teeth and asked it to sign its name while violently masturbating, that would be fancier than your handwriting too,” Iris said.
“Jesus.” I laughed. “That’s part of your problem. Masturbating monkeys shouldn’t even be in your vocabulary bank when you’re trying to make analogies. It’s not normal.”
“Violently masturbating monkeys, at that,” Miranda said.
“Don’t look at me like that. I was at the zoo a few days ago. I watched the bonobos for like two minutes, and in that time I saw sex, betrayal, bribery, a monkey eating its own puke, and yes, even violent masturbation.”
“Bribery?” Miranda asked. “I’m pretty sure monkeys don’t understand the concept.”
“Well, actually . . .” I started, and I cringed when I saw the looks they were both giving me. “Oh, come on. I have a good one this time. Let me use some of the useless knowledge I gained while getting my degree in sociology. Please?”
Miranda and Iris looked at one another, collectively sighed, and then Iris motioned for me to go on.
“I was just going to say they did an experiment where they gave monkeys a vending machine that accepted these coins. Monkeys could get things like bananas from the vending machine if they had the coins. And guess what happened once the monkeys grasped the concept?”
“Bribery?” Iris asked in a bored voice.
“Even better. Prostitution. Assault. All kinds of crimes we normally thought were uniquely human. Turned out, it’s not being human that makes us suck. It’s money.”
Miranda laughed. “I get it now. You’re just trying to convince yourself to stay away from the King brothers by any means necessary. I’m impressed. You even brought a relevant monkey story into it. That was subtle, but I’m not fooled.”
“Ugh,” I said. “Trust me. Richard King showed up yesterday for my first day and—”
Iris slapped her palms on the table, eyes wide. “What do you think this is, some fucking radio show where you bury the lede to sucker people into listening all day?” She pegged me with a rolled-up napkin. “I saw you yesterday. I pulled you over for old times’ sake, and you didn’t think that would be something I’d find interesting? We’re here puzzling over why he’d invite you to this party, and you didn’t think of mentioning that until now?”
I wrapped my hands around my cup, wishing I could sink into the liquid for a few minutes. “Okay, first of all? Pulling me over for old times’ sake got old the first time. You are taking years off my life with that crap. Second of all—” I pursed my lips and swung my hand around in the air, searching for something that didn’t sound like the lame excuse it would be. “I thought we should all be here. To hear it,” I added quickly.
Miranda was watching me through narrowed eyes. “Hiding information about the Kings,” she said slowly. “You’re bordering on treason of the pact, Kira. You know what we do with traitors, right?”
Iris pulled out her nightstick and prodded me.
Miranda gave her a disgusted look. “Really, Iris? You have a Batman belt full of cool stuff, and you poke her with your oversize cop dildo?”
“What was I supposed to do? Set my pistol on the table? Also, cop dildo? Seriously? I’ve barely even considered using this thing for sexual pleasure before.”
Miranda visibly shuddered. “Barely even considered? In other words, you’ve thought about it.”
“What? You’ve never taken a long, lonely look at a cucumber or a banana before? Guys end up in the hospital with their dicks stuck in vacuum cleaners all the time. I’m not allowed to stick a nightstick up my—”
“I’m not a traitor,” I said loudly enough to cut them off. “I told him I never wanted to see him again. I even said have a nice life. So you two can just back off. I handled it. I handled him.”
“Handled him, did you?” Iris asked. She made a lewd hand gesture to show me I’d chosen my words poorly.
I laughed. “God, you can be such a perv.”
“You call it perverted. I call it perceptive.”
“Yeah,” I said dryly. “It’s so perceptive of you to realize that I totally gave Rich King a surprise hand job in the hallway outside my classroom.”
Miranda held up the invitation and bonked me on the forehead with it. “Hand job or not, you ‘handled’ him so well that he decided to invite you to his fancy party tonight.”
“Yeah. Traitor,” Iris whispered.
“It’s not like I’m going to say yes,” I said. “Here. Give it to me. I’ll tear the thing up. I just wanted you two to see how ridiculous it was.”
“No,” Miranda said. She was looking up and tapping her chin. “I think you should go.”
“Why would I do that?” I hated that I could feel myself trying to act more indignant than I felt. The way my eyebrows were pulling together felt manufactured. Even the touch of outrage in my voice was forced. The only real irritation I felt was at how my friends seemed to push me toward what they thought was best for the situation and not what was necessarily best for me.
“Because it would be fun, and what better fuck you than to show up at his party and ignore him all night? He thinks you’re going to show up and be on his heels, but you could just go to eat the free food and drink the booze. Dance with some other guy and then call it a night. Think about it. He’d be furious.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, mulling the idea over. “Do you remember when we were making that video in Iris’s room? Freshman year of college?”
Iris put her palms over her eyes and started laughing quietly, but Miranda looked queasy at the memory.
“Why would you remind me of that?” she asked.
I grinned. We had just finished a night of partying and decided it would be a great idea to make an impromptu dance music video in Iris’s room. Apparently, a few beers made me think I was suddenly Miss Booty Dropper, and when I went down for the showstopper, I ended up impaling the inside of my butt cheek on a protruding piece of furniture.
Iris had fallen over laughing, and Miranda had thrown up at the sight of the blood.
“Well,” I continued, “once the stitches were gone and the wound was mostly healed, I kind of forgot about it. Then one day, it was a little itchy, and—”
“You spent all day scratching your ass?” Iris asked with an obnoxious grin.
“No. I mean, I might have scratched it in a very dignified, ladylike way once or twice. And then I guess I irritated it, because after that, I was miserable. I couldn’t stop thinking about scratching it more, but every time I did, it made it worse. The only way to get it back to normal was to ignore it.”
“As nice as it was to remember the time when you decided one butthole wasn’t enough, I’m not seeing the point here. We were talking about Rich.”
“Rich is like that scar. That’s the point I was trying to make. If I go to the party, it’ll end up making me think about him more, and then that’ll lead to more, and so on. The only smart choice is to stay home.”
Iris was grinning like an idiot.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m just making sure I understand the analogy, Miss Kira. So Rich is like your second butthole that closed up and scarred over, and you think scratching it would be a bad idea?”
I sighed. “It wasn’t a butthole. I told you guys that a million times. The wound was only three inches deep, okay? And it was on my butt cheek. It wasn’t even in the crack,” I added quietly.
“Here’s an analogy for you,” Miranda said. She leaned forward with an evil glint in her eye. “When I get an ant bite, if I scratch it a little bit, it gets itchier. But I don’t scratch it a little bit. I scratch that bitch until it bleeds. A few seconds of pain in exchange for no more itching. Simple as that.”
“Oh, perfect,” I said. “So you’re saying murder is the answer.”
Iris plugged her ears but nodded slowly to me and winked.
I laughed. “You two are idiots, and I’m not going. I’m also not murdering him.” Probably not, at least.
As it turned out, Iris had learned some torture techniques in her brief time with the police force. Chief of which had been the way she promised to help me cover up the murder of Rich and the disposal of his body. According to her, feeding the body to livestock was the way to go, but I wasn’t sure about her idea of turning his bones into furniture. I thought a bone chair would be a dead giveaway if I was ever investigated.
So there I was. I was unfortunately incapable of murder, but I could at least piss the man off by showing up and ignoring him. That was the admittedly weak conclusion of the internal debate on whether I should come to the party.
This wasn’t my first fancy party. Not by a long shot. There was my graduation party, which my father had treated almost like a wedding. He strung lights up around our backyard and had the whole thing catered. It was very mayorly. On the surface, it was generous and sweet. Unfortunately, I knew my father well enough to know it was a stunt for appearances, like everything else he did.
I’d also been dragged along to political parties he’d get invited to. Having my mom and me along reinforced the idea that he was a family man. It made him look relatable, or so he said. At the time, they seemed like parties thrown for royalty. Everyone wore expensive clothes, and the food was free. It was the height of privilege and class, or so I thought.
The party Rich invited me to made all of those look like high school parties in cramped living rooms with stained carpets and moldy couches.
I did a slow turn to take it all in while silently thanking Miranda for convincing me to come. The house was absolutely massive, and the decorations had a very Victorian feel to them. There was no piece of furniture or decor that wasn’t absolutely loaded with fine detail and finishes. The end table in the foyer had claw legs with what I suspected was real gold gilding all along the edges. If not for the modern formal wear of the guests, I could’ve easily imagined I had been transported to some king or queen’s palace two hundred years in the past. I almost expected a team of princesses in huge dresses to come parading down the staircase at any moment.
A woman in a uniform offered me some kind of food that looked like what you’d get if a doughnut had a baby with a chocolate bar, but a cupcake might’ve also joined in the love affair at some point and contributed a little DNA.
“Are these free?” I asked.
“Of course. The chocolate is from a remote region in South America. It’s uniquely—”
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “You had me at free.” I took one from the tray and popped the whole thing in my mouth. I chewed through the waves of flavors, eyebrows climbing as it went from chocolaty and rich to pure sweetness and then finally finished with a hint of a flavor I couldn’t have named if I tried. “Wow. Talk about a mouth-induced orgasm.” I winced a little at the stunned look on her face. I had a very bad habit of talking too much when I was nervous.
From the look on the woman’s face, she hadn’t expected me to speak to her at all, unless it was to issue orders. Where had Rich and his family even found the staff for this? They must have paid to relocate employees all the way from California, and the cost had to have been staggering.
A man was passing by in front of me when he paused and did a double take. I only noticed him when he turned and started toward me. It was Nick King, the youngest of the trio.
“Kira?” he asked.
He pulled me into a hug before I could stop him, but it felt genuine, and I found myself hugging him back.
“It’s me,” I said when he pulled back.
Nick looked like his brothers, but with some noticeable differences. He had wavy dark hair that he wore a little longer. It fit his clean-shaven look and especially the glasses he always wore. The best way to describe the three brothers was what kind of movie they’d be cast for. Richard King would fit anything in need of a brooding but reluctantly charming leading man. As long as the movie later revealed he was a soul-sucking asshole who would stab in the back anyone who trusted him. Cade was a tougher pick. I couldn’t quite decide if he’d fit the badass daredevil-type role, or maybe a more comedic, accident-prone but adorably sexy kind of thing. Then there was Nick. He was the kind of guy they always cast for those movies where you’re supposed to root for the main character who is played by someone jaw-droppingly gorgeous, but because of the glasses audiences are supposed to believe no one realizes he’s attractive. There would be the obligatory scene where he’d strip off his shirt and—surprise—he reveals he’s absolutely ripped. Or better, the scene where he’d get some kind of makeover that was nothing more than taking off his glasses.
“Did Miranda come too?” His eyes moved past me, scanning the people behind me. “Or Iris?” he asked with less enthusiasm.
“You would’ve needed to send them invitations.”
“Actually, Rich was in charge of all that. I just thought—”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He smiled, and it was a warm, inviting smile, just like I remembered from when we were kids. “Want me to let Rich know you’re here?”
“No,” I said. “I’d actually prefer that you didn’t.”
“Oh.” He frowned down at me, eyes searching my face for answers. “I take it his grand apology tour didn’t go so well?”
“You could say that.”
Nick nodded but didn’t look surprised. “I won’t keep you. It was good catching up. And, uh, tell Miranda I said hi. Iris too.”
“You got it.” I hoped I sounded light and cheerful, but it felt strange talking to any of the King brothers after so long. It was almost stranger with Nick because I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. At least with Rich, I knew I was supposed to hate him.
Nick headed toward a group of men who were laughing about something and was welcomed with backslaps and manly shoulder squeezes. Something about sports and money made it okay for men to grope each other. I wondered distantly if there was some deeper truth buried in that but decided tonight wasn’t a night for my mind to wander. I had to stay sharp, especially if I was going to avoid Rich.
I was playing a dangerous game. Be seen, but don’t be seen. Be heard, but be silent. I would need to be like smoke between finger—
“Kira?” asked a man from behind me.
I turned and saw Cade, Rich’s twin brother. Back in high school, I’d always been able to tell them apart at a glance because Rich never had a hair out of place, but Cade’s hair was always a wild mess. Beyond that, the men were almost impossible to distinguish from one another. A woman was at his side. She was tall and stately, almost the spitting image of one of those imaginary princesses I’d expected to see.
She was watching me with a look I couldn’t place, and I felt immediately inferior, like she only had to stand there and be to make me feel girlish and awkward by comparison. Well, good for you, Cade.
I squeezed out a smile instead of the grimace that was trying to rise up. “Oh, hey. I’m kind of in the middle of something, so . . .”
“Yeah?” he asked with an arched eyebrow. “Me too, actually.”
The playful note in his voice tugged a reluctant smirk from me. “And what are you in the middle of, exactly?”
“Trying to get you to talk to me,” he said.
“Last time I checked, we were talking.”
“You’re right. I guess my work here is done.”
To my surprise, he and the woman turned and started walking away. I bit my lip as I watched them. I didn’t know what was making me feel so impulsive, but I felt compelled to say something.
“Hey!” I called out.
Cade paused and turned to look over his shoulder. The woman was watching me too with those icy eyes of hers.
“You never asked what I was in the middle of.”
He slowly walked back to me with his eyebrows raised expectantly. “Was it something exciting?”
“That depends,” I said. “Everybody else looks like they want to dance, but I was thinking about seeing how many sweets at that dessert table would fit into my stomach.”
“You had my attention, but now you have my interest.”
I laughed. Cade had always been mischievous. Maybe it was the glint in his eye, or maybe it was just the stuffy, boring party, but I felt impulsive. “I wonder how much we could take before someone tried to stop us.”
“Stella,” he said. “Do you mind giving us—”
“Privacy?” she asked. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”
“I’m sure I don’t need your permission,” he said a little tightly.
Stella gave me one last look from head to toe and bit her lip. “Be careful with her.”
A minute later, I was surprised to find myself giggling diabolically as Cade and I sneaked out the back door, across the patio, and down a small hill with our arms full of desserts. Even though the food was free, a waiter had tried to stop us when he saw we intended to stuff half the buffet table on our plates. We ended up ditching the plates and taking anything we could carry in our arms when our plan of a smooth exit turned into a mad, messy dash.
I sank down into the grass and looked at the pile of desserts in my arms, as well as the multiple places I’d smeared cream, frosting, chocolate, and fruit fillings on my clothing. From the looks of it, Cade hadn’t fared much better.
“Looks like your dress is ruined,” he said.
I followed his eyes down to my dress, not failing to notice how close his gaze was to my chest. I looked back up at him, hating how the sight of his eyes and cocky mouth in the moonlight were enough to rob me of my breath. He looked so much like Rich, which I knew was stupidly obvious, but even his expression reminded me of Rich. “It’s fine. I have worn this thing like three times in five years. My dad doesn’t really drag us along to his functions as often these days. I guess there’s no legitimate threats to his seat as mayor, so he’s getting lazy about it.”
“That’s right,” Cade said. “You’re the mayor’s daughter. Somehow I’d forgotten that.” He grinned a little wolfishly. “Some guys are into that sort of thing, you know. I bet the locals are crazy about you.”
I laughed. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I decided to pop a chocolate tart in my mouth. Whoever catered this party was a wizard with sweets. I closed my eyes and groaned in satisfaction. “If this is what being rich tastes like, sign me up.”
“Somehow you don’t strike me as the kind of girl who chases after money.”
I licked my fingers clean and shrugged. “I’m happy if I have enough money to get pizza once a week, go to the movies every once in a while, and buy materials for my . . .” I coughed and cleared my throat suddenly, realizing how pathetic what I was about to say was going to sound. “Wow, it’s a little chilly out tonight.”
Cade saw straight through my feeble deception. “Oh no. One, you’re a terrible liar. Two, I will never stop until I know what you were about to say. I can see it in your eyes. It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Yes, I probably will. I like laughing, so tell me.”
“No. I mean you’ll laugh at me.”
“I promise, if I laugh, it’ll be with you. But I also promise I will never drop this so long as I’m breathing. I need to know.”
“I was just going to say as long as I have thread, I’m happy. I have a side hobby. That’s it. So can we talk about something else now?”
“Not so fast. A side hobby? Do you make clothes or something?”
“Yep. Exactly.”
He waited, eyes narrowing. “That’s not the whole story. Spit it out, Kira. There’s more. I know there is.”
“I make rodent sweaters, okay? I sell them online. It’s seriously not as weird as—”
That was as long as he lasted before throwing his head back and laughing.
I grinned as I watched him. His laughter was contagious, and pretty soon I was laughing right along with him.
“So, wait,” he said, still smiling wide. “People buy them?”
“Some people do, yes. Hairless rats really like them, but some people just want something nice to put on their rodents for pictures or even just for wearing around the house.”
His lips were quivering, and I could tell he was making an effort not to burst out laughing again. “Right. Because a mouse has to have something slick for those lazy days around the house.”
“Don’t make fun of it,” I warned. “And people dress up their dogs, so it’s really not as out there as you’re making it out to be. Not everyone has a big enough place for a pet dog. Some people can only have a small pet.”
He held his hands up. “I’m not judging. It just feels a little like someone opened a window up on a part of the world I never knew existed. Does this mean you have a pet rat with a massive collection of sweaters too?”
“I wish. I live in a condo with a strict no-pet policy.”
“Do I even want to ask how you got started making rodent sweaters in the first place?”
“The first one was just a joke. I had a pet rat back in college, and I wanted to do a funny photo shoot for my profile picture. You know, the kind where someone’s face is huge and kind of transparent in the background and everyone’s staring off into the distance? Anyway, I realized that every time I got stressed about finals or just about life, making the little clothes helped calm me down. I liked it, I guess, and . . . yeah, the rest is history.”
He was grinning. “History might be a slight overstatement.”
I rocked sideways to bump him with my shoulder, but I was smiling too. “Jerk.” My smile faded as a comfortable silence stretched between us. The sounds of the party drifted across the property to where we sat.
On so many levels, I felt guilty sitting here with Cade. It wasn’t because of Rich. That man could go screw himself for all I cared. He’d proven what kind of person he was seven years ago, and I had no space in my life for somebody spiteful and cruel. I felt guilty because I knew what Miranda and Iris would think if they saw me here. I knew in my heart that I’d never let anything physical happen between Cade and me, but it felt like I was dangling my foot in the waters, just to get a taste of what it would feel like. It was the emotional equivalent of cheating, except I wasn’t cheating on a person. I was cheating on the promise.
Cade popped one of the desserts in his mouth and smiled over at me, wiggling his eyebrows as he chewed. “Damn,” he said once he swallowed. “That one was good.”
“They’re all good.”
We sat for a few minutes longer, just eating and watching the sky while distant music and laughter washed over us.
“It’s kind of romantic,” he said finally. “Sitting just outside parties, I mean. I’ve always liked this. Even back in the high school days. Some of my favorite moments were the quiet ones when I’d slip away from a dance or beneath the bleachers after a football game. Just somewhere quiet.” He laughed softly. “Not too quiet, though, I guess. I actually think I had to hear the sound of the party or the crowd not too far away. Like I needed to know it was there waiting for me when I was ready to go back. It sounds kind of pathetic when I put it like that.”
“No,” I said. I was surprised to hear Cade King opening up like this. I was surprised by a lot of what I’d seen from him tonight. The Cade I remembered in school was wild and always causing some kind of trouble. Tonight, he seemed more thoughtful and introspective. I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised that seven years could change a man. “I get what you mean. I think it’s just human nature. Most people would feel weird just saying, Hey, wanna go sit on a hill and stare at the stars while we talk? Wandering off from the party gives us an excuse to do something we wanted to do all along.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s too bad it doesn’t give us an excuse to do everything we’ve wanted to do all along.”
My skin prickled a little at the tone in his voice, and when I met his eyes I felt all the unspoken promise there, dangling between us like candied poison. I looked away, smiling as if he’d said something funny. “What about the girl you were with?” I asked.
“What about her? She’s in the party and you’re here.”
I bristled a little. “I’m not—” I clamped my mouth shut. I was about to say I’m not interested in being his side chick. What I should’ve been saying was that I wasn’t interested in being his chick in any form or fashion. I had the pact to think of, and I knew Iris would probably jab me with something more sinister than her nightstick if I made a move on Cade. She could pretend to hate him all she wanted, but in her mind, he was still her first real love. I had let the party and the night get to my head enough, and it was time to come back to reality. “You know, I probably should be getting back to the party.”
He looked at the haul of desserts still in my lap. He slid his forefinger across my arm, gathering a small glob of whipped cream that he sucked from his fingertip. “Careful in there. With you looking like that, somebody might get the idea that you’re on the menu.”
“The kids’ menu, maybe.” I paused, replayed what I’d just said, and then frowned. “Wait. No.” I laughed at my own stupidity. “Okay, that sounded really wrong. I meant like I wasn’t—” I settled for sighing and pressing my fingers over my eyes.
Cade just chuckled. “I like that about you, Kira.”
“What? That I sometimes say things that make me sound like a closeted pedophile?”
“No. That you don’t always stop to calculate what you’ll say. It’s refreshing.”
“Oh.” Despite the thrumming warning in my brain telling me to step away from the King brother before I betrayed the pact, I blushed. “Well, thank you.”
“Hey,” a voice called from the top of the hill. “Nick said he saw you coming out here with Kira, and I—” He trailed off, and when I looked up, it felt like my eyes were playing tricks on me.
I saw Cade standing at the top of the hill. And I saw Cade sitting beside me.