Eden

37

Because he said it was the “normal” thing to do, Saint got us a huge limo to go to the prom in, so we roll up to his house in style. I’m a little nervous when we first walk in, but I’ve got Loni on one side of me and Saint on the other, so I know nobody will mess with me.

By the time we arrive at the house, the party is in full swing. I don’t know if it can really be considered a prom, or just a house party where everyone dressed up super fancy, but there are balloons and other decorations, so that’s got to count for something.

“Holy shit, this place is already packed,” Loni says as we walk through the front door. It looks like the entire school is here, jammed into Saint living room, but nobody seems to mind. The music’s blasting and everyone’s dancing.

“Looks like fun.”

She smiles back. We hook arms to walk into the crowd, but Saint grabs my hand just as Gabe, Loni’s date—a boy from Thornhaven’s lacrosse team—grabs hers.

“No, no, no,” Saint says with a shake of his head, drawing me back to him. “She gets you all the time. You’re mine tonight, Ellis.”

Damn, I don’t mind his possessiveness in this moment. I shoot a glance over my shoulder to Loni, but her date is already leading her away, leaving me and Saint alone.

“All right,” I say. “You’ve got me all to yourself. Now, what are you going to do with me?”

He smirks. “I’ve got a few things in mind, but I think first, I’ll dance with you.”

“You dance, Angelle? For some reason, that … petrifies me.”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

Taking my hand, he leads me further into the living room, which has been cleared of furniture and made into the dance floor. It’s crowded, but just like always, people make room for Saint. As we move to the middle of the floor, I spot Laurel and her friends dancing together. They glare as we pass them by, and I can hear them talking about me even over the music.

“How many times do you think she had to blow him to get that dress?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s trashy anyway. I can see her ass dimples.”

“I can’t believe Saint would come to prom with someone like her.”

“He’s lowered his standards pretty far.” This time, the insult comes from the head bitch in charge. “He used to want girls with class, now he’s just looking for a warm hole. Oh well, at least the stupid bitch’ll be able to afford her abortion this time around.”

As cruel as her words are, they don’t sting. Not tonight. Tonight, I don’t anything can touch me.

Saint pulls me close and we sway to the music. He keeps it PG-13, and doesn’t even grab my ass, though I can practically feel his hands itching to. The thought almost makes me giggle. For the first time since James’ death, I feel … normal.

I smile up at Saint.

“What is it?” he asks with a cocky half-grin. “Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m grateful,” I admit. “Because you did what you promised and made me feel like a regular senior tonight. You’ve no idea how much that means to me.”

His hand slides up to cup my cheek and he lowers his mouth toward mine. I tilt my chin as I rise to meet him and begin to slide my eyes closed when I see the front door open and someone walk inside.

My eyes go wide and I gasp. Saint freezes, his lip hovering just above mine.

“What is it?” he growls.

“Your dad,” I whisper.

“What the fuck?” He looks back over his shoulder just in time to see his dad make his way up the stairs to the second floor. “What in the hell is he doing here?”

Panics shoots through me. What could he possibly want here? I gave him Nora’s phone number. What more could he demand of me?

“Stay here,” Saint orders. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”

Some strange instinct wants me to tell him not to go, but I shake it away. It’s his dad, for Christ’s sake. Jameson Angelle is a lot of things, but even I don’t think he’d go so far as to gravelly hurt his only child.

At least on that front, he’s not as bad as Nora.

I watch him climb the stairs and disappear into the hallway on the second floor. I can’t shake a sudden feeling of dread weaving its way through my bloodstream. Maybe I should’ve told him not to go after all? Maybe this is something horrible? I force those thoughts from my head, though. Angelle probably just needed something from the house that he forgot when he and his wife moved out.

Ripping my focus from the stairs, I make my way off the dance floor and to a table filled with refreshments. Nothing seems overly appetizing, however. I can’t think about food when I have this sinking feeling about Saint.

Ten minutes pass, then fifteen. When we come up to twenty minutes, my anxiety is off the charts and I decide enough is enough. I push my way through the crowd then hurry up the stairs. It’s instantly so much quieter up here, it’s eerie. Turning down the hall Saint disappeared into, I slowly wander past one door after another, listening carefully for voices.

As I near what had been Mr. Angelle’s office, Saint’s voice floats toward me. I can’t make out his words, but he sounds furious. Hurrying forward, I reach the door and open it without hesitation.

The scene I stumble upon takes my breath away, but not in the good way.

Saint is standing near his father’s desk, glaring at Jameson, who’s not even looking at him. Jameson is holding a gun, which is startling enough, but when I see who he’s pointing it towards, I almost piss myself in shock.

Nora’s here.

What the fuck is going on?

Saint notices me enter the room and his eyes widen in alarm. “Go.”

“I don’t think so,” Angelle snaps, sparring me the briefest of glimpses. “Get in here and shut the door, or I’ll blow your mother’s fucking brains out.”

I hurry to obey, not keen on having yet another death on my conscience, even if Nora does when the Razzie for Mother of the Year.

“What’s going on in here?” I demand, my voice sounding much braver than what I’m actually feeling.

“We’re just having a little talk,” Nora calmly explains as though she doesn’t have a gun pointed at her head. There’s a lit cigarette dangling from her lips, a gleaming silver Zippo in the other, and she appears so casual, it makes me think she’s got some sort of plan.

One that I know I want nothing to do with.

“This isn’t a fucking chat, Nora,” Mr. Angelle snarls. “You wanted to ruin me, and I’m just beating you to the punch. You think you can come into my house and threaten me?”

I press my back against the wall next to the door, hoping to God to stay out of the way of a speeding bullet if that gun goes off. Something strange tickles my nose. Something painfully familiar, but my mind is too preoccupied to try and figure out what it is.

“I just want what’s rightfully mine, Jameson,” Nora snaps, giving her lighter another flick. “And for you to go fuck yourself. Preferably in the grave, but prison works, too. I’m not all that picky.”

“You want to send me to prison?” He smirks. “Stupid bitch, with all the shit I’ve got on you, you’d be right there with me.”

“You can’t prove anything you’d claim,” she taunts. “There’s no evidence.”

“I bet that drug-addict sister of yours would sing for the right price.”

Nora goes completely still, but then she inclines her head, giving Mr. Angelle a bold, challenging stare. “Sorry, fucker, she OD’d this morning. You’re not getting shit out of her.”