The Arrangement Anthology (106 page)

_____

When we enter the quad at my college, Trystan and I split up, but not too far. He stays out in the open and sits under a tree with a guitar on his lap. I walk by a group of girls and press Trystan's phone to my ear. It's not on, but it looks like I'm talking to someone. "I swear to God, it's Trystan Scott. He's under a tree in the quad. Get over here!" They hear me and start squealing. I walk in a circle and repeat the same thing a few times in front of different groups of people. Instantly, students and teachers start to come out of the surrounding buildings and flock to him.

I wait outside my building. Asia will come out. I know she will. It seems like she's the last person to find out, but when she does, the girl comes racing down the stairs and flies out the door. Halfway across the quad, I fall into step with her. We're in a mass of people. "Hey, Asia!"

"Avery!" She stops, hugs me, and sounds giddy. "Is it really him?" She looks across the quad, standing on her tippie toes, trying to see past all the people.

"Yeah, it is. He's singing. It's the coolest thing ever." We walk together and talk about Trystan. She's really excited, so I get straight to it. "Was there a guy in Amber's room last night, before Naked Guy?"

Her lip curls. "Yeah, the old British dude. He was such a prick. He slammed the door on me when he was leaving. Where is the whore, anyway? She skipped finals today and even though she's a total Skankerella, it was unlike her."

They don't know? How is that possible? Lying, I say, "I'm not sure. Have fun listening to Trystan play. I'll be right back."

"You're not staying?"

"I need to grab something from my room." Well, I actually need to see if my dead roommate is still there. How could the entire night pass and nobody noticed?

Even though I promised Trystan and Sean that I wouldn't go into the dorm again, I do. I run up the stairs and down the empty halls until I get to my room. The silence is a little eerie. My skin prickles as those horrible memories of Amber with blood dripping down her face reappear vividly in my mind. It's my fault she's dead. I even feel bad for Naked Guy. He was a jackass, but Mel pounding him was enough for me. I didn't need him killed, not like that. As I think about it my stomach twists. He was shot several times, in places that don't kill, tortured until the final shot went through his head.

Stop!
By the time I reach my room, I'm scolding myself to stop. I'm so nervous that I'm shaking and my body is ready to wretch. The silence just makes it worse. Everyone must have run out to see Trystan.

As I reach for my knob, key in hand, I tremble. I don't want to see that bloody scene again. It was so horrific, but I unlock the door and push it open. After I scan the room, my jaw drops.

She's gone.

He's gone.

There's no blood, no trace of anything. I stagger back and shiver, wrapping my arms tightly around my middle. Where are the bodies? How'd the blood come out of the white bedspread? There isn't a drop. There's no trace that anything happened here last night at all.

I glance at my dresser and grab my Mom's cross and stuff it into my pocket. I'm so scared, so terrified. Only someone with money and power could clean this up without anyone noticing, and only two people come to mind—Black and Mrs. Ferro. For a second, I'm afraid it was Sean. Even whore-y Amber deserves a funeral. Her family will never know what happened to her. It'll look like she ran off with Naked Guy right before graduation. No one will know they were murdered right here in this room.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as I feel eyes on my back. I round swiftly and scream, ready to throw a punch.

"Hey, calm down little miss ninja." Marty has his hands up, palms facing me. "What's wrong, skittish chick? I've been looking for you, and from the looks of it, you're in serious need of an ice cream binge." He leans on the doorframe, and folds his arms across his chest. His sandy hair is slicked back, and today he's wearing a suit that makes him look like one of the dudes on Mad Men.

When I realize it's him, I slap his arm and squeak, "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Marty laughs. "I wasn't exactly quiet."

"You know what I mean." My voice quivers when I speak, even though I try to hide it. Marty straightens and looks down at me with concern, but I don't offer any hints as to what's bothering me. It's bad enough that I pulled Trystan into this. I'm not risking Marty, too. I have to get out of here. I race around my room and grab the few relics that matter most to me, besides the cross. There are only a handful of objects. I stuff them in my book bag after dumping out the educational contents on the floor and kicking them into my closet.

When I open the door, I half expect to see ashen Amber sitting there with her ghostly pale lips parted in an eternal cry for help, but she's gone. The clothes and contents are exactly as I left them.

Marty follows me around the room like a puppy, yipping questions, "Where've you been? I thought you went to work with Black and didn't bother to say good-bye. Avery," he grabs my left hand and looks down at my bare fingers. "Oh my God, you broke it off with him?" He holds my hand and stares at the bare finger that once held a beautiful engagement ring.

I yank my palm back. "Yeah, and I don't feel like talking about it."

"So you're taking the job with Black?"

"I don't know! Stop asking me questions I can't answer! Stop acting like you're my goddamn brother, because you're not! I don't need you looking out for me. I don't need your sympathy or your ice cream. Just give me some space, okay? Is that too much to ask? The past few weeks have been Hell and I need some room to breathe." It's over the top, but I need him mad at me. Leave already. I can't drag him into this.

He laughs. "You think I'm smothering you? That's hysterical. If you think this is closeness, no wonder why you don't have a ring on your finger anymore."

My gaze narrows to a slit as I step toward him and push the massive man in the chest with my fingertips. This time the anger is real. "Don't you dare judge me! You're the one who said to do whatever it takes. You're the one who said sell pot to freshmen, that hooking was only for a little while, to take the next job with Black, or did you forget, you fucking asshole?" Marty's brow raises and he still has an amused smile on his face. I shove him again. "Stop laughing at me! Do you think this is funny? Do you think I'm enjoying this? Well, I'm not! I don't want to be here anymore and I don't want to see you, so leave me alone." I shove past him and head toward the door.

"Avery, come on. I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did. You enjoy judging people. Meanwhile, you lie as good as the rest of them, or did you forget gay boy?" His lips part like I punched him in the stomach. "Yeah, I thought so. There's nothing more to say here."

I'm down the hall and in the stairwell by the time I hear his voice again. "So who are you banging tonight? Maybe I should just put in another order with your boss!" I give him the finger and don't look back.

As I cross the quad toward Trystan, he nods, acknowledging that he sees me before I veer left. The car is waiting. I slip inside and start to cry. By the time Trystan jumps in—the man has to literally launch himself through the door to escape the grabby hands of his fans—I've wiped most of the sorrow away, but the stains still linger, glistening on my cheeks.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, Trystan sits next to me and holds out his arms. I let him hold me the way I wish that Sean would. I lean against his soft flannel and inhale his scent, comparing it to Sean's. They're nothing alike. Trystan keeps his arm around me until we arrive at Madison Square Garden.

When the car stops, he says, "I have to go and get ready for the show later. I want you to come with me, and stay by me."

"How am I supposed to do that?" If I stand in the darkness of the stage wings while he sings, he can't see me. There's no way I'm going to get closer to him than that.

Trystan grins. "Wait and see."

CHAPTER 13

I'm on stage during the rehearsal and sound check, sitting on a stool. When Trystan disappears backstage to change, he takes me with him. After he strips his shirt, he teases, "No looking."

It makes me smile. I turn around and wander through the dressing room. "So where am I supposed to stand while you rock out and make women orgasm as they watch you sing?"

"Wow, I never thought of that." He sounds intrigued.

"Trystan," I scold.

"I usually think they have a crush, but you made it sound dirty." He presses a button and tells someone they can come in. A crew of make-up and hair people surround him. It must suck to have so many people touching him like that all at once. It's like he's not human. They tug, touch, and brush as if he were a doll. Trystan just sits there silently until they leave. When he turns back to me, I can't help it.

I laugh. "Nice eyeliner. It's darker than mine."

"Bite me."

"It's okay, I know it's part of the show."

"I feel like my whole life is a show. I'm a fucking fraud." I don't know what he means, but the somber look snaps and he's back to his smiley self. "So, now we need your costume."

My brows furrow. "Rock star say what?"

He retrieves a piece of cloth that was laid out on a chair, along with stockings. "Put this on. There are heels in the closet and wigs. Choose one and someone will come and finish your make-up. You'll have more eyeliner than I do, by the way."

I stare at the mesh outfit in my hand. It's a body suit that's almost sheer. "Are you kidding me?"

"It's what all the dancers wear. One of them usually dances with me, well, more like licks my chest and slides against me during the show. Tonight, you're taking her spot. Just wear that and stand by me. No one will think it's you." I hesitate. Trystan comes toward me, still bare foot. He has no shirt on and they've made his abs look more ripped than they already are with stage make-up and an airbrushing machine. "I won't let him get to you. If you're next to me, he can't take a shot at you, even if the guy knows who you are. It's a public place. Getting a gun in here is nearly impossible and I'll know you're safe. And if you don't want to lick me, you don't have to." He's trying not to smile when he says the last part.

I laugh and shove him aside. "Fine, where do I change?"

"Are you kidding?" I stare at him and shake my head. "You can't leave my sight. You're changing in here, and it's not just because I like seeing you naked." He winks, which makes me roll my eyes.

I reply, "I could have liked you if you didn't say that last part."

"Yeah," he laughs, "And, I could have liked you if you didn't drive me crazy." He stares at me for a moment and I swear he's seeing someone else. I break the stare and throw my arms around his neck and peck his cheek.

"Thank you."

"For what?" He looks confused.

"For what? For looking out for me. For following me around. For making sure I'm safe. You act like it's nothing, like you'd do it for anyone."

"No, you're not just anyone." His gaze drops to the floor. "Go change over there. I'll keep my eyes to myself."

CHAPTER 14

After I have on the costume, which consists of stocking like material with blacked out fishnet over tiny areas of my boobs and crotch, I grab a blonde wig and a pair of heels. I feel ridiculous wearing this thing. When I step toward Trystan, he turns around. The man's jaw drops and I swear it's ten minutes before he remembers to blink. "Wow."

"You've seen me naked and now you say wow."

"Yes, look at yourself." He steps aside from the mirror and when I don't walk toward it, he takes my shoulders and shoves me. Gripping my arms, he whispers in my ear, "You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

His question makes me squirm. I laugh nervously. "I'm not a cover model."

"No," my stomach dips when he confesses it, but he continues, "You're more beautiful, by far."

"Trystan." I try to twist out of his grip, but he holds onto me.

"Look at yourself Avery. Why can't you see what the rest of us already know? You're stunning."

"I'm too heavy."

He laughs. "You're real. Every curve is perfect, from your lips to your ass. Seriously. Accept it. If you don't, some asshole will take advantage of you." There's a knock at the door. "Speak of the devil."

When the door opens, my heart stops. "Sean."

His eyes go wide and darken as his gaze moves slowly over my costume. He speaks to Trystan without looking at him. "Scott."

"Asshole."

"I should break your pretty face for letting her approach Thomas today."

I reach out and take Sean's hand. "I did that."

"Yes," Sean smiles at me. "I know. But I told your friend here to keep you safe, and walking into that lunatic's home alone was foolish. The fact that he let you tells me how big of an idiot he truly is."

"Sean, Henry didn't do it. And the bodies, they're gone." This confession leaves both men shocked into silence.

They say in unison, "How do you know?"

I shrink back a little bit, waiting for the onslaught of screaming. "I went into my room after I talked to Asia. She said that she saw Henry leave and seemed to have no clue that Amber and Naked Guy were dead. She was happy, and there was no yellow tape or cops. So I opened the door. Everything was spotless, exactly the way it'd been before they were shot."

"Holy shit." Trystan stares at me and then locks his jaw to keep from saying more.

Sean has a blank expression on his face. I wish he'd react so I can tell he still cares about me. "Scott, get me an all areas pass. I'm staying near her tonight. We're missing something."

Trystan nods and then walks over to a couch and sits down, leaving me standing in front of Sean. My ex-fiancée's face is devoid of any readable expression. He's made of stone once more and I doubt I'll ever see the softer side of him again.