Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5) Page 6

  “I’m sure, it’s just…I really should go back and do some work.” Could I sound any lamer?

  Jasper hesitates. Realization dawns behind his eyes, and he frowns. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

  Wait—he thinks I don’t remember him? “Of course I do. We found you that night in the forest.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Is everything okay here?” Suddenly Anna is standing next to me, and her suspicious voice cuts Jasper off. “I think Black Orchid’s about to go on.”

  Annoyance flickers in Jasper’s eyes, but only for an instant. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Ah, here he is!” booms a fourth voice, this time from behind Jasper. “Getting distracted by these lovely ladies.”

  Dr. Mars claps Jasper on the back. Then, he holds out his hand to me. “Miss Siobhan Elliot, from my World Myths class.” His hand swallows mine when we shake.

  “Hi, Dr. Mars.”

  “Eric, please.” He offers his hand to Anna and looks at her expectantly.

  “Anna Wallace.” I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as I watch Anna dissolve under Dr. Mars’s arresting gaze. She might be able to resist Jasper’s charms, but no one can ignore this giant of a man.

  “This is Pat,” Jasper says, nodding at a girl I didn’t even notice lurking behind Dr. Mars. She must be another of Eric’s teaching assistants because Jasper adds, “Every once in a while, Eric lets us see the light of day.”

  “Or at least the inside of a dingy bar,” Patricia teases. Just as striking as her male companions (seriously, where are all of these absurdly attractive people coming from?), she leans against one of the bar stools, stretching out like a panther sunning itself. Obsidian hair snakes down her creamy white shoulders and back. A strange, amused smile tugs at the corners of her wine red lips as her yellow-green eyes dart from me to Anna and back again. The thigh high slit in her black velvet dress makes her look longer and leggier than she really is; when she pops off the stool and slinks over to me, our faces are level. She brings hers so close to mine our noses almost touch. My stomach churns as I’m hit with a blast of clashing scents that might be iron and roses.

  “Your eyes are an interesting color,” she tells me without smiling. She’s one to talk.

  “Thanks,” I say. She tilts her head to the side, her probing eyes following me as I shrink back from her. My foot twitches, but I resist the impulse to take a step back.

  “They remind of turnips—”

  “We’re gonna go sit down.” Anna cuts her off with a polite grimace and places a hand at my elbow. “It was…nice meeting all of you.”

  “So, are we on for coffee later?” Jasper asks me. Anna gives my arm a tug. I turn back to her and hold up my pointer finger. Her eyes gape at me, but she lets go of my arm, her eyes sweeping over Eric one last time before she starts picking her way back to our table. I look back to Pat, but she’s vanished, the invisible tendrils of her nauseating perfume the only evidence that she was ever really there at all.

  I shake my head. “Maybe some other time. See you in class.” I follow Anna, not waiting for his reply.

  “He smelled really good,” Anna tells me when I sit down.

  “Who?”

  “That Eric Mars guy.” We both look over at the bar, but Dr. Mars and his teaching assistants are gone.

  “What does he smell like?”

  “The woods,” she sighs. “Whiskey.” And sex, I think she adds, but her voice is drowned out as the lead singer of Black Orchid brings his lips to the microphone. A shock of black-blue hair falls dramatically in front of half his face, and the eye we can see is enhanced with eyeliner. His tight jeans are a strange contrast to his formal white collared shirt and black tie.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Emo Kid’s voice crackles through the microphone, “gents. Welcome to Music-alypse. We're Black Orchid.”

  Black Orchid's opening song has a lively but impatient tune. I really can't get into their grating sound or Emo Kid’s strained vocals, so I try to mentally block them out and study the room instead. I finally see Jasper and his posse lounging around a table against the far wall. There’s another girl with them who looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Alert, dark eyes watch the performance underneath shiny black bangs. Her white shorts and floral-printed top stand out in this otherwise unconventional crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tanya’s head perk up from her phone. She follows my gaze and groans.

  “Who is that?”

  “Genie Cho,” Tanya says in my ear. “Alpha Rho’s president. She’s in my economics class. Such a know-it-all. And I hate it when people wear tights with shorts.” Tanya returns to Facebook, and I laugh, now noticing the silver-blue semi-circles covering Genie’s legs like glossy fish scales. I start to turn away, but another metallic flash catches my eye.

  Genie runs her fingers through her short silky hair, briefly revealing a patch of neck covered with the same oily scales. Several folds of silver skin flare out, raw and pink underneath. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.

  This time when I open them, I see only smooth pale skin. The gills and scales on her neck and legs are gone. Maybe I imagined them. Except Tanya saw them, too, and thought they were tights.

  I reluctantly turn back to Black Orchid. Their set seems to drag on forever, but I think it's actually only been a half an hour. Finally, Emo Kid is yelling “thank you!” into the microphone as his band disassembles and the bar erupts in fevered applause. Carly hops to her feet, giving a high-pitched whoop and patting her hands together eagerly. She glances expectantly down at me, Tanya and Anna still seated, our claps slow and mechanical. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans, Carly hides her face in her curls and sits back down.

  Black Orchid walks off, and four members of Search and Destroy take its place. None of them are Jimmy. The one with greasy brown hair spilling into his eyes bends down to adjust something, and his flannel shirt rides up to expose low-sitting jeans and his…ew. I quickly look away and watch a head of blonde-tipped, spiky black hair settle behind the drum set. The other two are setting up a key board next to the drummer. When they’re done, the solemn one with the mop of blonde hair stations himself behind it, his hands poised over the keys. He’s the tallest and lankiest of his bandmates, and also the most well-dressed in black dress pants and a turtleneck. They even look like they’ve been washed and ironed recently. His helper, who I’m guessing must be the bass guitarist, wears a pair of shorts and nothing else.

  The bar has gone rather quiet except for the clink of glasses and the occasional murmur of conversation drifting up from a table. Suddenly, a voice booms out from a microphone somewhere at the other end of the room.

  “I'm tired,” the unseen speaker announces. “I'm so, fucking, tired.”

  “Of what?” one of the bartenders calls out, and a few people chuckle.

  “Of everything,” the male voice bellows. A figure strides up between the tables as he continues, “Of my parents telling me to get a real job, a nine-to-five job I'll probably hate.”

  He joins his band and faces the audience. “I'm tired of these sociopathic kids,” he adds, practically grinding his teeth into the microphone, “with their iPads and their smart phones thinking they're the best fucking thing to ever happen to the world, and for treating each other like shit.”

  Anna whispers in my ear, “Jim has an iPhone. Our parents pay for his plan.” She huffs and crosses her arms, her mouth a thin, resentful line as she glares at her brother.

  “And I'm tired of these stupid old dudes in Washington thinking they know what's best for the good ol' U.S. of A,” Jimmy concludes. Like his bass guitarist, he's not wearing a shirt, but he's clearly been taking care of himself. His chest and abdomen are rock hard and slick with something. Sweat? Oil? His dark brown hair is shorter now, but his strong jaw line and pouting lips are unmistakable. “You know, nothing ever really changes. You think you leave high school—the arrogance, the bac
kstabbing, the drama—behind, but you never really do. In the real world, it's called Washington.”

  After those last three words, they launch into a raucous song with jarring guitar chords and half-sung, half-spoken lyrics about how “shitty” everything is. Jimmy doesn't have a large space to work with, but he writhes and thrashes right up to the first few tables of patrons who keep time with bobbing heads. Search and Destroy flies through their first few songs, the sound frenzied and disturbing, but Jimmy's soulful voice and incredible stage presence pulls it all together, gives it order.

  Abruptly, Greasy slows down the pace with a rolling, simmering guitar melody. Jimmy wipes sweat from his brow and addresses the audience again.

  “This next song is a cover of The Stooges’ ‘Gimme Danger,’” he announces, and without further explanation purrs the first few words in a low, loud whisper into the microphone, his entire body pouring itself into the song. His wide, wild gaze sweeps the audience and stops at our table. I have to remind myself that he probably can't actually see me—or if he could, he might not recognize me. Still, I sink lower into my chair as his eyes linger on our table. The insistent melody, his deep, trembling voice and intent stare unhinge me. I'm suddenly hot and alert. Anticipation builds in my lower abdomen, between my legs. A fleeting image of Jim pressing himself against me, running his hands up and down my body and singing against my neck passes through my mind.

  It vanishes when Tanya taps me on the shoulder—just in time, too, because my wings itch to unfurl. She hands me her phone so that I can read the brief but urgent email Victoria has just sent to the executive board: I need you guys to come back to the house, now. Carly looks up from her own phone and meets our confused gazes.

  I lean into the table. “It sounds like an emergency. I guess we should go back to the house.”

  “Did someone break a nail?” Anna jokes.

  Tanya glances over at Anna, her upper lip twitching, but she just says, “I’m sure the other board members will go. Victoria knows we’re out.”

  “We won’t be that much longer,” Carly agrees. “Let’s just stay.”

  I give a reluctant nod and turn back to the performance, but the moment has passed. The speed of the song has picked up, and Jimmy's eyes are closed as he belts out the rest of it. Their set continues for another twenty minutes, and the end of it is met with loud applause and cheers from the audience. A few patrons even stand up. I want to stand up, too, but I don’t want to draw his attention my way.

  “Ready to go?” Anna asks.

  “I have to pee first,” Carly says.

  “Me too,” I tell her.

  “It's downstairs.” Anna points to a staircase I hadn't noticed before. It leads to the basement, which smells like cigarettes and mildew, so Carly and I are quick. A few minutes later we burst out of the lady's room back into the hall—

  —and I almost slam into Jimmy.

  “Jimmy!” I shriek. He jumps back in surprise, too. “Oh, h-h-hey.”

  For a moment, Jimmy’s hazel eyes just look at me. Then, he gives me a lopsided grin.

  “Siobhan!” He opens up his arms, and I think he’s going to hug me, but then they drop back at his sides. “It's great to see you! Thanks for coming. You're here with Anna?” I nod, and then we both have to step back because some guy is trying to bypass us on his way to the restroom. I see Carly look at Jimmy, then at me. She points quietly at the stairs and runs up them.

  Jimmy closes the gap between us. “So, how are you?” he asks me eagerly. I can't help but smile. He's adorable even when he's exhausted and sweaty.

  “I'm doing well,” I reply, my head bobbing up and down as though I'm trying to convince myself of this along with him. “School's going pretty well.” I should have more to tell him. We’ve talked so little since high school, but it’s like everything has evaporated from my brain. “By the way, you guys were amazing out there.” It’s true, but I’m also trying to change the subject.

  “Thanks! I thought we had a good night.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shuffles a little closer to me still. “Anyway, Anna was telling me you’re studying science or something?”

  And we’re back to me. “Yes. Biology, actually.”

  “That’s cool. I’m not surprised. You were always really smart.” He looks away from me and down at the ground for a moment, absent-mindedly ruffling his hair with his hand. “And I hear you’re in a…sorority?” He grimaces, but it quickly turns into a smile so I know he’s just teasing me.

  I nod. “That’s pretty much my life right now: school and Gamma Lambda Phi,” I admit. “What about you? Besides the band?”

  “Search and Destroy is pretty much my life right now. I’m also a bartender here.”

  “Oh! That’s great!” My innate cheeriness is taking over, and I hope I don’t sound fake. “It’s nice they let you play here, too.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “It took them long enough to warm up to the idea, though.” He glances over his shoulder like his boss might have appeared in the doorway while we were talking.

  For a few beats, we’re both silent, looking everywhere but at each other. “Well, I’d better get back upstairs. It’s good to see you, Jim.” I hope he knows I really mean it.

  “You, too.”

  “Hey, Siobhan,” he calls after me as I’m about to go back up. I turn around. “We’re doing another show this Friday. I’ll let Anna know the details. I hope you can make it.”

  I smile. “I should be able to. See you.”

  Chapter 7

  Carly swipes her card key in the front door of the sorority house, and she, Tanya and I burst inside. Except for the text books, back packs, hoodies and dozing laptops strewn about the floor and couches, the living room is empty. There isn’t any sign of the impending doom implied in Victoria’s email.

  “Oh, Victoria,” Tanya sighs in exasperation as she heads for the stairs. “She’s such a drama queen.”

  “Yes. Victoria’s a drama queen.” I can hear the eye roll in Carly’s voice, but then their voices become murmurs as they disappear upstairs. I start to follow them but pause when I notice the light pouring from the open door of the usually unused guest room on the first floor.

  “Hello?” I call tentatively, knocking lightly before peeking inside. There’s a woman crouching down to shove the bottom drawer of the bureau closed, but she shoots up at the sound of my voice.

  “Oh, hello there.” When she faces me I feel…

  Star-struck.

  Like how I would feel in the presence of Charlize Theron or Heidi Klum. Not good enough. Insignificant. Even wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and an old tank top, this stranger is seriously stunning. She’s tall and slender with sun-kissed skin—not a creepy orange like a spray-tan-gone-awry, but the natural, golden glow my body lotion upstairs claims but fails to give me. Ash blonde curls cascade over her shoulders to her waist and frame high cheekbones and a small nose. I’m not great at the age game—she looks like she’s in her thirties—but an ancient wisdom thrives in her jade green gaze.

  “You must be Siobhan.” She crosses the room in two long strides and extends her hand. We shake.

  “Actually, it’s Shiv-awn.” That came out a bit more annoyed than I meant it to. People mispronounce my name all the time. It’s just there’s something about her tone making me feel like she’s messing it up on purpose.

  “Oh, so sorry! Siobhan. What a pretty name.” There it is again—a sneer lurking behind the sweet lilt of her voice.

  “Thanks. And you are…?”

  “Ah, you missed Victoria’s email,” she realizes. “I’m Farrah—your new house mother.”

  As if that were her cue, Victoria charges in carrying an armful of pale pink sheets and fluffy white towels. Dark sweat stains slash her silver and white workout clothes. As usual, her auburn hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, the stray strands slicked back with a canary yellow sweatband.

  “I finally found the spare sheets,” she sighs. “Oh, you�
��re back.” I catch her rolling her eyes. “How was the concert?”

  “Great.” I have to jump out of her way so she can set her load on the bed. Now I know the reason Victoria needed us, but there are other members of the executive board that I’m sure must have responded to her request for back up. She didn’t really need all of us here, did she? Since when did we need a house mother, anyway? Still, guilt twists my insides as I watch my big sister making the guest bed, trying to smooth out all of the creases in the sheets and fluffing the pillows.

  “A concert? Who was playing?” Farrah wants to know. I tear my eyes away from Victoria’s obsessive inspection of the bed.

  “Just a few local bands,” I tell her.

  “Sounds like fun.” She takes out a slinky black dress from her suitcase and drapes it over a hanger. “So what year are you, Siobhan? What are you studying?”

  “I’m a junior biology major.”

  “Excellent.” Her glossy peach lips curve into a dazzling smile. “And where’s home?”

  “Laurel. It’s about an hour away from here.”

  Farrah nods. “I know where Laurel is.”

  “Oh, are you from around here?” I wonder, assuming this must be the case since Laurel is one of those small towns no one has ever heard of unless they’re from the area.

  Farrah shakes her head. “No, my home is a long, long way from here.” Her eyes lock on mine. Is it just me, or is she giving me a meaningful look?

  “I’ve been moving around so much for the last few years, though, that I haven’t really felt settled anywhere,” she explains. The strange moment has passed. I must have imagined it.

  “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Let you unpack.” I back away slowly but deliberately until I’m almost out the door. “It was nice meeting you. I’m glad you’re here. I think your presence will really be an asset to the chapter,” I add to impress her. Farrah raises her eyebrows and frowns.

  “No one likes a brownnoser, Siobhan.”

  My shock over her blunt reply must show on my face because a second later tinkling laughter fills the room.