Long Live Dead Reckless Read online

  I did a dramatic fake yawn.

  “New subject. Your jealousy is starting to get boring now.”

  Giving one last concerned look, he downshifted as we turned on the long, tree-lined driveway to the Beaty mansion. There were flickering lanterns lining the drive and dozens of red taillights haunting the fading dusk. Fireflies led the way as I rolled down the window to get some non-crazy, non-jealous air in my lungs. I listened to the gravel groan beneath the slow-rolling tires as the familiar coaxing of old world charm almost made me forget about the idiot sitting next to me.

  “Ugh, how come this driveway isn’t paved?” Spencer complained.

  My lips straightened into a thin line as I considered just getting out of the car and walking the distance to the mansion, but he said something that kept my hand off the door handle.

  “Oh hey, Talor, next time you’re having one of your honest conversations, ask Sage about Adair.”

  I scoffed.

  “Adair? Strange name. Kind of rhymes with thin air. Probably where you pulled it from.”

  “Ask him. I bet he won’t tell you.”

  I pointed to the mustache.

  “Sorry. I can’t take you seriously. Especially looking like that.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  Sighing, he rested an elbow against the door as we rolled down the driveway. When we got to the mansion, he opened my door before handing the valet his keys. I couldn’t get his words out of my mind. They kept looping until I was wrapped up in the mystery of a woman named Adair. He hooked my arm in his as we filed in line.

  To compensate for the silence, my mind shifted to the grand garden in front of me. The Beaty Mansion was as elegant a place as ever; the crystal-laden centuries-old chandeliers scattered throughout the lawn beckoned us closer. Azalea’s parents stood at the door greeting guests with Vaseline smiles.

  Mr. Beaty was a good man. His humor was dry and his glasses were thick. His eyes always had playfulness in them, like they belonged to someone a third his age. Azalea was the spitting image of him, and they were alike in many other ways, too. There was little about them not to like.

  Mayor Beaty was a quirky middle-aged woman with money to burn, and she showed no fear of the gray in her hair and the crow’s nest on her brow. She was silly and genuine, and that made her the perfect hostess. She greeted us with a thick southern accent to complement her layers of lacey petticoat and eccentric make-up. It sounded like Scarlett O’Hara mixed with Eliza Doolittle. Didn’t exactly hit the mark.

  “I declare, Miss Gardin! We were so worried you would not find an escort for this evening. Mr. Beaty wondered what men there must be in this town that a handsome belle such as you should be without a dancing partner. What fine gentleman is this, pray tell?”

  The blood drained from my face as I remembered we were supposed to play a historical role for the evening. We were meant to both dress and act the part of antebellum southerners. As if it wasn’t odd enough to be a southerner without an accent, I almost couldn’t remember what one sounded like.

  “Why, good evening Mr. and Mrs. Beaty! Might I introduce this…fine gentleman – my dear friend, Mr. Spencer Kaden?”

  I looked at Spencer, who was an entire continent away from being a southerner and ever further from a gentleman. As soon as he opened his lips, southern charm poured from them like he was born in the bygone era itself. Mrs. Beaty fanned herself as the professional charmer took her hand and lightly kissed it. He seemed at ease with antebellum manners. Even I was lost in the moment.

  “What a lovely home you have, Mrs. Beaty. Mr. Beaty, I see you are a marksman?”

  He pointed to the dozens of Civil War rifles and pistols crossed on the wall above the foyer. It was a regular museum in the Beaty house. Mr. Beaty beamed.

  “Indeed, Mr. Kaden. There’s nothing quite like being on the hunt.”

  “I am inclined to agree. It gives me great pleasure.”

  “You must join us next week, young man. We go Thursday. How are you with horses?”

  “I am quite accomplished, Mr. Beaty. I have broken a few headstrong beasts in my time, and I do enjoy a good ride.”

  When he winked at me, I was ready to get away from him. Mayor Beaty checked Mr. Beaty’s pocket watch and gasped.

  “Goodness, my dear, we must begin!”

  Mr. Beaty gave a reverent nod.

  “Of course. Please excuse us, Miss Gardin. Mr. Kaden. Do enjoy yourselves.”

  A silent butler took my shawl and Spencer’s top hat. We took our place at the entrance of the great ballroom. When we were announced, couples turned and looked our way as the butler’s voice echoed through the hall. Music still played by a classical band in the corner, but too many eyes were turned to us. I felt oddly out of place in my best friend’s house. Spencer noticed my nerves and offered his hand.

  “Don’t give yourself so much credit. They’re looking at me.”

  For once, Spencer’s smug arrogance was aimed in the right direction. I placed my hand on his and he led me into the grand ballroom. Once inside, Spencer took two champagne glasses with silver bows tied to the bottom and offered me one. I refused.

  “Um, I don’t drink. Don’t you know that?”

  He clucked his tongue.

  “A silver bow means non-alcoholic. Don’t you know that? I thought you ran in these high society circles.”

  I took the glass from him.

  “No, I didn’t know that. Probably because I don’t have a trust fund.”

  He raised his glass to me with a tilt of the head.

  “To possibilities, Cotton Candy.”

  Sighing, I took a few sips while he downed his in two swallows. There was a bubbly burn that I wasn’t used to, but I drank all of it anyway. When I was done, he took it and placed it on a nearby table along with his empty one. Without a word, he whisked me onto the floor. Couples all around us were waltzing in tight circles.

  I couldn’t understand how he was so fast to get us into the center of the room where I couldn’t get away from him easily. He had me firmly by the waist, leading me around the dance floor with my skirt in picturesque full swing. It was easy to imagine the antebellum south as I listened to the swishing of ladies’ bustles and the eloquent sliding of violin strings. He really was so good at dancing.

  “Remember the last time we were here?”

  “Spencer, please stop talking about that,” I begged, suddenly feeling hot.

  “You’re a horrible dancer, Miss Gardin, but somehow I still want to kiss you.”

  He dipped me low as the song ended, leaning in. I turned my face away just in case. He was just crazy enough to try and kiss me there. Luckily, I saw Azalea out of the corner of my eye. She was standing at the top of the grand staircase leading up to her painting room waving dramatically to me. Spencer followed my gaze, letting go of my waist.

  “Can you behave yourself? Don’t set anything on fire or molest anyone?” I asked, fanning myself.

  “Might I do everything else, Miss Gardin?”

  He kissed my hand before I ripped it away.

  “You can do whatever you think will get you thrown in jail, actually.”

  A devilish smile spread across his face as he touched a finger to his nose and watched me slip through the meandering crowd, making my way to the staircase. Azalea grabbed my hand, leading the race up the spiral staircase to her painting loft. There was a wrought iron Juliet balcony through a set of French doors where we often sat at night and counted stars. With only a couch, art supplies and two walls full of old books and photos, it was a small enough space to feel cozy, yet large enough for us all to move freely without doing battle for space. Gentle acoustic music played through the speakers.

  There was a canvas oil painting of Azalea in one corner. It looked fresh, and I could still smell the familiar stench of paint and egos. The painting was haunting; the eyes watched me cross from the doorway to the couch. Hobbling from a sprint in heels
, we both collapsed on the rug in our grand dresses. I looked over at the painting that stared at me. Jesse was on the balcony eyeing the arriving party crowd.

  “Jesse, since when do you paint haunted paintings? The eyes are following me.”

  Jesse ignored me as he moved across the room to the narrow, floor-length window of the grand ballroom below. He was scanning the audience. His behavior was a little odd since he was the easiest guy ever to talk to. The best part about him is that he actually used his ears to listen, instead of like most people who just used theirs for decoration.

  Being artistic twins, Jesse and Azalea would paint one another whenever the mood struck. The one down side to being their friend was that I was always left sitting by the side adjusting hair and clothes for perfect translation on the easel. I had no artistic talent. I could never work out in my mind exactly how a smart guy like Jesse could be a friend of Spencer’s. They had nothing at all in common except penises. He finally glanced back our way once his gaze broke from the window.

  “Hey, I thought you were bringing this guy Sage tonight? What happened?”

  Before I could answer, Azalea took my face in her hands.

  “She was too scared to ask.”

  Azalea and Jesse looked at one another. I shrugged it off.

  “You guys don’t know him. He’s hard to talk to.”

  Jesse raised a brow, bringing the drink he’d been nursing up to his lips.

  “Spencer said to watch out for that guy. He wouldn’t tell me why.”

  “Jesse, I know he’s your friend, but everything out of Spencer’s mouth is filler.”

  Azalea went over to where Jesse stood and peeked downstairs at Spencer.

  “Can I just say that he’s not a bad back-up? He does wear a tux well. Rwworr.”

  I crawled over and joined them at the window. Spencer seemed at ease in the chaos. He stood alone, his back against a wall with a calm smile held fast on his lips. His attention was focused on a group of men, not a collection of young women on the other side of him. When he looked up, I dove behind a wall.

  “Great. You can have him,” I told Azalea, frowning.

  “Oh, I brought some guy in my Physics class. He’s an exchange student – Italian,” Azalea cooed.

  Jesse crunched on a piece of ice and cleared his throat.

  “Uh, didn’t you bring two guys?”

  Azalea turned away and smiled at herself in the mirror with a satisfied sigh.

  “I honestly don’t remember. Isn’t that terrible?”

  Jesse and I shared a look.

  “Yes,” we said in unison.

  Azalea covered her mouth like she was ashamed, but there was a wicked smile behind it. Jesse shrugged and downed what was left of his scotch.

  “Anyway, I better go. I’m neglecting Kyoko, and with that guy down there, well, Talor, you get it.”

  As he started to leave, I fell forward and grabbed his ankle. It was a desperate gesture, but I was desperate.

  “Jesse, you’re his friend. You’re my friend. Please make him go away.”

  “I thought you came with him?” he asked, puzzled.

  “I did, but…please go do something. Friends don’t let friends deal with Spencer,” I cried, letting him go.

  He adjusted his tux and started to leave. Azalea swung around from the mirror.

  “I don’t know why you’re fighting this thing with him. You won him fair and square. Go and take your prize. Sage seems happy waiting in the wings.”

  I shook my head violently, making it clear that I didn’t want any more of her bad advice.

  “You know, I’m through listening to you. Spencer has been pouring it on since the pool party when I took your advice. He’s trying to make Sage jealous.”

  Curious, Jesse stopped and leaned back into the room from the staircase. He stretched a palm towards me and wiggled his fingers.

  “Wait. I’m confused. You’re saying that you would rather deal with Spencer, who you don’t even like, than attempt asking that other guy out? Does that make sense to women? Because to a guy, it looks like you’re into Spencer.”

  “Please don’t say that. Everyone quit making me feel like an idiot about all this. You haven’t met him. He’s really hard to read and God, just, freaking intimidating.”

  Azalea twirled her hair as she gazed into the vanity.

  “Maybe he’s just shy, Talor. Or, maybe you intimidate him. Happens to me all the time.”

  Azalea was accustomed to scores of men fawning all over her. She looked as extravagant as ever dressed in an emerald green ball gown with diamonds in her hair – probably real diamonds, actually. A cat in human form with large, opal eyes and wavy dark hair couldn’t comprehend my common problems.

  “Why would anyone be intimidated by me?”

  She grabbed a fallen tube of mascara on the floor and started to touch up her eyelashes. It was only then that I realized the painting studio was a complete mess, but Azalea liked it that way. It “fed her muse,” so she said.

  “Beautiful women intimidate men. They pretend to be confident, but they’re really terrified. Right, Jesse?”

  Jesse, who was still leaning on the railing, reluctantly chimed in.

  “Um, yeah…sure.”

  “Sage and I have worked together for almost two months now. Uh, when does it wear off? And another thing, Azalea! Why did you invite Spencer in the first place?” I asked, crossing my arms and tapping my foot.

  Azalea was doing her lips.

  “I didn’t invite him. Hello? You brought him with you.”

  “I only brought him because he said you invited him.”

  Azalea laughed heartily. Jesse brushed back his hair and jerked at his jacket.

  “Well, I feel a lot of male bashing coming on, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be downstairs where it’s safer.”

  With that, he disappeared down the steps. Unfazed, Azalea kissed her reflection in the mirror to blot her lips. It left a fresh red stain of perfect lips among the dozens of faded ones in different shades. Furious that Spencer forced his way into an evening with me, I gathered up my skirts and made several attempts at a sentence. I never got past the first or second syllable. Azalea rubbed lotion on her hands as I started down the spiral staircase.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To punch him in the face.”

  8

  Azalea called after me, but I didn’t care. I was on a mission. For the first time, I felt like she was on his side and maybe even helped orchestrate the whole evening. I just wanted distance from them, and I couldn’t get it fast enough. I pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for Spencer. He made a fool of me.

  He must have felt me zeroing in because he turned and spotted me barreling his way. I thought I still had a few steps to come up with something nasty and smart, but there was too much blind fury in the way for words. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. My thoughts wouldn’t connect to my lips, and he took full advantage of that. He held me fast and close.

  “Whoa, hey, calm down.”

  “No,” I argued, trying to pry his hands off.

  Shaking his head, he kept his fake accent.

  “I haven’t looked at another woman all evening, you know?”

  “You lied to me about Azalea. Liar. Stop using that stupid accent. You sound…s-stupid,” I stammered.

  “God, everything about you is so sexy. Even jealousy.”

  “I’m not jealous. I’m pissed. You tricked me into bringing you here.”

  Couples rustled around us in happy little ballerina-box worlds. Spencer’s hand brushed up to my cheek. He stepped close, dropping his head down and touching his nose to my forehead.

  “You wanted to bring me, Cotton Candy. I just let you.”

  “Nope. I’ve had enough. Done,” I cried, pushing him away.

  Giving him as evil a glare as I could muster, I marched off. I didn’t have to push people out of the wa
y this time. Everyone moved before I got close, creating an easy path to the door. I decided to leave the gala on foot. It wasn’t my brightest notion, but the walk would give me some time to think about what to say to Sage on our future date.

  I only made it outside to the pool area when Spencer came blazing up in front of me. It wasn’t well lit outside, just the glistening of lantern lights hung above in the fruit trees and candles on strategically placed stands, but he looked different. More intense. He held up his hands.

  “Wait, Talor.”

  “You aren’t even going to apologize, are you?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You are?”

  “Sorry it upset you. But be honest with yourself for a minute, Talor. Would you have come with me otherwise? I just wanted a chance with you. I deserve a chance, and you’re so full of yourself you wouldn’t give it to me any other way.”

  “You deserve? Wait. You did all this on purpose to screw with Sage, didn’t you? That’s what this is really about.”

  “I wanted to screw with you.”

  “What’s wrong with you? Seriously, go away. Get yourself some help, Spencer,” I cried, exasperated.

  “What if I said I’ve never really loved anyone and I didn’t know how to do it? So maybe I lied a few times. I don’t know how to be in love. It’s new. I know how to do a lot of things, but this? I don’t have a clue. How could I do it right when I don’t know what I’m doing? Please.”

  If it had been any guy in the world other than Spencer, I would have stopped dead in my tracks. I might have believed him. I would have jumped in his arms and forgiven him. But Spencer was good with women. If he thought a declaration of love would get him what he wanted, he dished it out like Halloween candy.

  “You just want sex and you’re not getting it from me.”

  He forcefully ripped off the fake mustache and jerked at his collar to loosen it.

  “Thing is, I don’t think you’re really mad about me lying at all. I think what’s really pissing you off is you want it to be all about Sage, but I’m in there, too.”

  “You really think you’re God’s gift, don’t you?”