Divine Vices (25 page)

The
front of the Jacoby’s saltwater farm was already flooded with several dozen
cars parked across the lawn. Grayson Jacoby was the youngest of his three
siblings and the only one still living at home. Good fortune kept his folks
away until tomorrow evening while they visited his sister upstate, leaving him
with twenty-five acres, no neighbors, and a massive, currently unoccupied barn
to entertain all of New Haven’s adolescents with for the whole night.

Bass
vibrations from the blasting sound system could be heard even before we came up
the hill to the property, and once Gwen and I climbed out of the car, the pulse
of the music could even be felt through the ground. Despite my aversion to
parties, especially ones of a rowdy sort, I was happy to return to the natural
order of things. No life threatening incidents, creeping suspicions, or ghostly
encounters. Just my friends and some fun.

I
stood beside the Saturn, waiting for Gwen to wrap up her conversation with some
of Jeff’s friends that she strategically parked by in hopes of running into him.

“Well,
aren’t you just a vision?” said a voice from behind.

I
turned to see a handsome Zorro impersonator, donned in the iconic black mask,
hat, and sweeping cape, along with black knee-high leather boots, and a long,
deep v-cut linen shirt cinched in at the waist with a gold filigree belt.

“Wow!”
I exclaimed. “Might I say the same? You look great!”

“You
two know each other?” asked Gwen as she returned to the car.

Pulling
the stiff black hat off his head, the front strands of his chestnut locks fell into
his eyes.

“Callaghan?!
Oh my god, I didn’t even recognize you. You look-”

“Like
I blend in for once?” Ian countered lightly. “And where’s your costume, Meyer?”

“Very
funny,” she cracked.

“Alright,
before you two end up in a bizarre sword-meets-sickle duel, let’s remember why
we’re here,” I said.

“To
dance, and hope for a reckless, drunken corporeal encounter with a certain star
basketball player,” answered Gwen happily.

“Seems
you already started on the drinking part,” said Ian, taking notice to her overly
jovial attitude.

“It’s
called being high from pure and utter ardor,” she replied, yanking my arm and
motioning us toward the farmhouse.

Her
initial tug put enough space between Ian and us for Gwen to whisper softly, “Is
it just me, or does Houdini look CUTE tonight?”

“Are
you rethinking your position on, um, wanting to become a horse?” I asked,
struggling to not snicker.

I
was met with a shove and a quick retraction back into her grasp. “No! I meant
for you.”

“Gwen-”

“Food
for thought,” she replied.

“Am
I interfering with your gossip hour?” asked Ian, consciously keeping a few
paces back for our discretion. “If so, I can leave to go get us something to
drink.”

“Terrific!”
said Gwen. “Grab me a beer.”

“I’ll
just take a can of soda,” I replied gratefully.

“Oh,
come on, Foster. Live a little,” said Ian. “I’m grabbing you a beer.”

“No,”
I protested. “You know I’m a complete lightweight.”

“All
the better,” he chuckled as he walked away. “You need to loosen up. Have some
fun.”

Gwen
waited until he was out of hearing distance before striking up the conversation
once again.

“All
the better... for him, perhaps?” said Gwen, teasingly.

“We’re
just frien-”

“Don’t
even start with that! He’s been crushing on you since you two first met. And
you’re like two peas in a pod. Sarcastic, eccentric-”

“Just
friends,” I countered.

“Both
irrefutably stubborn
.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Hate
to break up this insightful discussion you’re having here,” said Jeff,
surprising us from behind, “but I was hoping that maybe I could borrow this Devilish
Delight here for a dance.”

“Perhaps
I can reserve one for you,” replied Gwen sportively.

“Alright,
you can find me in the barn when you're ready,” said Jeff, equally flirtatious
as he slinked away.

“You’re
gonna leave him in a barn full of drunken party girls?” I asked.

“Gotta
let him work for it a little bit, and Stacy’s not here yet,” Gwen replied. “But
let’s not change the subject. Ian, like, what the hell?”

“Meyer-”

“Foster,”
she quickly countered. “Don’t deny what my little blue eyes can see for
themselves. You’re back on the market indefinitely, and I’m thinking he just
might make a move.”

“Honestly,
we’re just friends,” I said.

“Are
you blind?! Seriously?!” she piped. “You’d have to be to not notice that he is
completely in love with you.”

“If
he was, which he isn’t, then wouldn’t he have already made a move by now? He’s
had over seven months. And since when was I ever
off
the market?”

“You’re
kidding me, right? No man in his right mind would put himself up against that
gorgeously creepy jackass, who will remain unnamed for the duration of the
night. Best to keep our minds clear of that egotistical-”

“Take
it easy,” I said.

“Don’t
defend him,” Gwen warned.

“I
wasn’t going to,” I lied.

In
all truth, I wasn’t sure why I felt that I needed to justify his actions.
Perhaps it was to advocate my own, but it seemed unlikely.

“As
you said, tonight’s our night. Let’s just enjoy ourselves,” I restated upon
Ian’s return.

“I’ll
drink to that!” said Gwen, tossing back her beer.

“Come
on, it won’t bite,” urged Ian, handing me my bottle.

I
cautiously took it from him as the crowds from the house and barn erupted as a
hot dance number began to thump through the sound system.

“Don’t
worry,” Ian said, bending his elbow and extending his arm out to escort me to
the festivities. “I’ll protect you.”

“Much
appreciated,” I said, gladly taking hold of his arm.

Gwen
directed us to the barn, where we were immediately spotted by Jeff.

“I’ll
see you two in a bit,” said Gwen as he took her deeper into the crowd. “And don’t
hold up the wall.”

“Care
to dance?” offered Ian.

“Why
not?” I said, happily ditching my untouched beer.

We
pushed our way through the unventilated throng of swaying and gyrating
classmates. As a space opened, Ian took me by the hand and twirled me around in
a tango-esque fashion and pulled me securely into his grasp.

“Well,
look at Fred Astaire here,” I said. “Where’d you learn to dance like that?”

“Oh,
there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Ian replied, whispering the words right
into my ear. “The question is can you keep up?”

“Game
on.”

Backing
away slowly, I drew him in closer by pulling on the strings to his cape. As I
let the rhythm take over and the percussive beat control my hips, Ian took hold
of my waste. Harmoniously moving to the sounds, I shimmied my shoulders before
throwing my head back as he released me into a dip. Pulling me back upright, we
both instantly broke out into beaming smiles. Wrapping my arms around his
shoulders, we continued to sway to the song, that is until an unmistakable voice
erupted over the music.

“Uh-oh,”
said Ian. “Here comes trouble.”

Stacy
came sauntering through the crowd, which freakishly seemed to part upon her
presence. Dressed in the iconic Playboy Bunny outfit, tail and rabbit ears
included, she came up to Jeff and Gwen with wicked intentions clearly on
display.

“Think
we need to step in?” I asked.

“I’d
say Gwen’s a big girl who can take care of herself, but that’s actually what
frightens me. She won’t hesitate to rip Stacy apart, literally,” said Ian.

We
made our way towards the three just as things started to unfold.

“Now,
here’s a Three Musketeer I wouldn’t mind unwrapping,” said Stacy, stroking
Jeff’s arm as she observed his costume.

“Are
you gonna treat him like everything else you eat?” remarked Gwen. “Bathroom’s
that way, so you can hurl.”

“Okay,
the air is getting a bit thick in here. How about we go look for something
fresher?” I said as Ian motioned for Gwen and Jeff to follow him outside.

“Of
all the gin joints in the world...” called out another voice through the crowd.

“You’ve
got to be kidding me?” groaned Ian.

Donned
in a sleek black tux with a tucked in white dress shirt and slim black tie,
Jack approached us with a degree of hesitance. The tension was damn near
unmistakable.

“What
are you doing here?” I asked, my tone clearly stating his intrusion. “I thought
you were going to your friend-of-a-friend’s party tonight.”

“You’re
looking at it,” he said. “A buddy of mine from Arlington used to date Grayson’s
sister and he passed the word on to me, figuring I didn’t have plans.”

“How
unfortunate. And who are you supposed to be?”

He
tossed on a pair of dark shades.

“An
F.B.I. agent desperate for a clue?” I guessed derisively. “I’ll be more than
happy to give you one.”

“Actually,
I was going for more of a
Blues Brothers
-meets-
Reservoir Dogs
vibe. Unfortunately, I didn’t take the sunglasses into account. Can’t see much
in a dimly lit room as it is, so they’re now only being put to use when someone
takes a photograph.”

“Well,
enjoy yourself,” I said, backing away.

Jack
took hold of my hand just as I turned. “Can we talk?”

“I
have nothing to say to you.”

“Look,
I screwed up. I just wanted to apologize.”

“You’re
forgiven,” I replied coolly, taking another step away from him and grabbing
hold of Ian’s arm.

Jack
didn’t release his grip on me though.

“Can
I have my hand back?”

He
gently loosened his grasp, allowing my hand to slowly slip out of his. My
insides churned as my skin tingled with the warmth absorbed from his fingertips
running over my flesh.

“Don’t
be like that. We both did things we’re not proud of, mine more notable. Just
give me a chance to explain myself,” he said. “One minute of your time,
please.”

Jack’s
glacial stare penetrated into my thoughts, and before I even realized it, my
other hand slid off Ian’s bicep. Something best identified as satisfaction
sparkled in Jack’s eyes, making me already regretful for what I was about to
say.

“Fine.”

He
kicked back his right foot and playfully curtsied with his hand extended out to
me. I cautiously placed mine into his possession once again.

“Hey,
you gonna be okay?” asked Ian, protectively.

“Don’t
worry yourself, Dad,” replied Jack. “I’ll have her home before curfew.”

“I’ll
be back in a minute,” I corrected sternly.

Ian
hesitantly motioned Jeff and Gwen outside, watching me head to the back of the
barn where there were scarcer people.

“Your
time starts now,” I said, resting against the wood walls.

“What
you accused me of, um, let’s just say, it hit a nerve,” Jack began.

“And
I apologized for that-”

“No,
I’m not blaming you. You’re self-protective. You saw a threat and acted
accordingly. Granted, a little more research and a bit more prudence on your
part could have helped the situation immensely, but the key evidence was there
nonetheless. Was I angry by the accusation? Yes. Was I right to have reacted?
Absolutely. Should I have attacked you like that? No. It proved exactly what
you were afraid of in the first place, that I’d hurt you at the first test of
trust.”

“I’m
pretty sure I was the first to pull the trigger on that one,” I replied
sheepishly.

“It’s
just that everything surrounding that particular timeframe in my life was hell
in itself, and I came here looking for a fresh start, only then to have that
slapped back in my face upon arrival,” said Jack softly, leaning inward. “I
never intended to hurt you. My emotions got the better of me and I
overreacted.”

“That’s
what I was afraid of,” I replied. “See, in my experience, when someone’s placed
under pressure, that’s when their true colors are shown. So even though you
disagree with the fact that I was doing what I thought was right in order to
protect not only myself, but also the people I care about most, I still did it
out of defensiveness. What you did was strictly about settling the score. I
hurt you, so you instinctively thought to hurt me right back.”

“Well,
remember that you didn’t exactly accuse me of stealing Girl Scout cookies,”
said Jack. “You accused me of murder.”