Chapter 21 #2
Dez swallows, feeling exposed and emotional without knowing why. Did Dez tell her about her brother the first night she was here? Otherwise, how could Eri possibly have heard about Mo?
Dez notices the mirror behind Eri. It’s large, probably twelve feet by twelve feet, in an ornate crystal frame. But it’s the glass itself that gets her attention. It looks old, unusually dark, and in its reflection, Dez can see herself, the other students drinking around her …
But not the bartender with the electric blue hair.
She simply isn’t there.
Eri smiles like she knows what Dez is thinking. “You want to know about the mirror?”
“It seems,” Dez says, and swallows, searching for the word, “quite rare.”
“My pride and joy.” Eri takes out a tall martini glass, pouring ice-white liquid from the shaker. “Go on, you can ask.”
“Are you …” Dez starts to say. She feels ridiculous for the words rising to her lips, but here they come. She whispers: “Are you a ghost?”
Eri gives Dez a sad smile and shakes her head. “Just haunted, honey.” She slides the drink forward on the bar. “This one’s on the house. Well, they’re all on the house, but this one’s especially for you.”
“Thank you.” Dez takes a sip. It’s wonderful, strong and hot, with a hit of vanilla and tangerine. A taste she loves instantly, deeply. She’d have no idea how to order it again. “What is this?”
“It’s your drink,” Eri says. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Yael slides in next to Dez at the bar. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too,” Dez says. “I came with Simon. Jet invited him.”
“Fucking hell, of course he did. Where’s Simon?”
“He went to find Esther.” Dez looks around the bar until she spots him, hunching adorably over his crush, shouting something in her ear. It’s noticeably nonsexual in a room filled with people more or less going for full public penetration, but at least Esther’s smiling.
“Well, it’s time for the three of us to bounce,” Yael says, steering Dez away from the bar.
“Why? I just got a drink—”
“Don’t ask. Thank me later. Grab Simon,” Yael instructs Dez. “Tell him to play drunk. Meet me outside in sixty seconds.”
She’s gone before Dez can argue, so Dez makes her way over to Simon. He’s still talking to Esther, but by now Jet’s also joined their conversation. His arm is slung over Simon’s shoulders, and they’re looking like very old friends. Or maybe something more.
“Hey, Esther,” Dez says. “Simon, Jet.”
Jet cups a hand around Simon’s ear, whispering something that makes Simon go very still. The two of them don’t even seem to notice Dez, but Esther gives Dez a smile.
“Simon?” Dez tugs on his sleeve. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Everything okay?” Jet says. He’s smiling but there’s something strange in his tone. Something almost possessive. His hand massages Simon’s shoulder.
“Sure,” Dez says to Jet, then leaning into Simon, “Yael thinks maybe we should move on for the night.”
“But I …” Simon looks at Esther, then at Jet.
“I’m leaving in a minute, too,” Esther says, rising on her toes to give Simon a soft kiss. “Good to see you, Simon.”
Jet barely waits for Esther to turn around before he high-fives Simon. “Dude, you’d better hit that. And I need to hear all about it.”
“Gross,” Dez says.
But Simon’s laughing. Until he looks at Dez and stops. “Sorry.”
“Let’s go,” Dez says, so only Simon can hear. “Yael says you need to play drunk.”
“Right-o!” Simon cackles, and Dez gathers that he won’t have to act much.
“I thought you were going to hang out,” Jet says to Simon, almost pouting.
“She’s making me leave, man. See you tomorrow.” Simon gives Jet a sloppy, one-armed hug.
Jet keeps his eyes on Dez as he holds Simon in the embrace for longer than expected. And Dez gets the feeling maybe Rafe isn’t the only one sending his protégé mixed messages. Suddenly, she’s glad they’re leaving.
She leads Simon outside, into the cold, clean snow, where Yael taps her stiletto by the ski lift.
“Hurry up, bitches.”
“We’re coming,” Dez says, just as Jet swings out the door behind them.
“Hey, Yael,” he calls. “Where’s the after-party?”
“These clowns can’t handle Eri’s potions, Jet,” Yael says. “Time I put them to bed.”
“But the fun’s about to start,” Jet says, looking at Simon. “When we get really loose, we start speaking in Sumerian.”
“I love that.” Simon glances at Dez. “Should we stay?”
Dez smacks him. She doesn’t know what spooked Yael, but the look on her face, and the thinly veiled predatory vibes Jet’s giving off are enough to make Dez French exit, no questions asked.
“Ow.” Simon flinches. “What? It’s the oldest attested language and an isolate. No linguistic relatives!”
“Come on, Yael,” Jet says, ambling down the porch stairs. “Let them stay. Let them play—”
“Another time,” Yael says.
Jet leans forward and whispers something to Yael, his blue and black eyes running over Simon, then Dez.
“Not yet,” Yael hisses at Jet, shoving him away.
And then Rafe is there, putting a hand on Jet’s shoulder, drawing him back. Rafe says nothing as he and Jet return to the bar, but he glances back over his shoulder with a look so smoldering it’s all Dez can do not to follow.