Succubs on Top gk-2 Page 10

  "I'm not throwing this away! Besides, you don't think she'll notice that your whole fucking house smells like this? Jesus. Your pupils are the size of her granny panties. Virtuous or not, she isn't stupid."

  "Just go! Hurry! Don't come down."

  Grumbling, I went upstairs while Bastien scurried to the door. Turning invisible, I sat cross-legged at the top of the stairs and kept smoking. Below, I heard him greet Dana.

  "Well, hello," he bellowed. "Sorry if I kept you waiting…I was…" He trailed off stupidly, and I shook my head. Sloppy, sloppy. He would have never been at a loss for words sober, but then, his sober self would have immediately noticed the foolishness afoot. "I was…um, busy. Upstairs."

  "I see," replied Dana. Her tone was once again set to cool and formal. I decided Bastien had imagined the warm and friendly rapport he kept claiming they had when alone. "Well, I apologize for disturbing you, but when I dropped off the cookies earlier, I think I may have lost an earring."

  I straightened up. Cookies? He hadn't mentioned that. Maybe he was making progress after all. Cookies. I wondered what kind she'd brought. Peanut butter? Chocolate chip? Oh. Maybe even white chocolate macadamia.

  He and Dana commenced a search for the earring, coming up empty. The whole time, Bastien tried to act like he wasn't stoned, but Dana couldn't have been fooled. Not with those cyborg eyes of hers. Hell, I didn't even need to see it. The audio track alone was entertaining enough.

  Meanwhile, I couldn't stop thinking about those goddamned cookies. They sounded good. Really good. Suddenly, I wanted them more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

  "Well," I heard Dana say, "I must have lost it somewhere else. Thanks for looking."

  "Sorry I couldn't help you."

  "It's all right." She allowed an elegantly crafted pause. "Isn't that Tabitha's purse over there? Is she here?"

  Oh, shit. I had a feeling Bastien was thinking the same thing.

  "Uh, well, yeah…but…um, she's upstairs lying down," he faltered. "Has a headache."

  "Oh, that's too bad. Did she take anything for it?"

  "Um, yeah, she did."

  I looked at the joint. Had I ever.

  Bastien and Dana started talking about something else, and I decided then that I had to get those cookies. I was starving. The lovebirds sounded like they had moved to the living room, so I could sneak invisibly down the stairs and raid the kitchen without them knowing. Standing up, I put the joint out in the upstairs bathroom and moved on to my covert descent. Pot doesn't usually mess with motor control the way alcohol can, but it can certainly distract you from ordinary things. Like watching where you're going.

  About three steps down, my foot slipped out from under me.

  I uttered a sailor-worthy expletive and slid painfully down the rest of the way, landing hard on my butt at the bottom, my legs twisting into unnatural positions underneath me. I had barely enough sense to snap back to a visible Tabitha, lest Bastien and Dana think a clumsy ghost had just fallen down. A moment later, they came running.

  "What happened?" exclaimed Bastien. He sounded more upset about the interruption than my immediate health.

  "I…I tripped…"

  Looking down, I tried moving my left ankle to a more comfortable position. I winced. It hurt like hell, but at least it moved.

  "Well," he said crisply, "so long as you're okay. I'm sure you'll want to go and—"

  "Okay?" Dana gave him an incredulous look. "We need to get her to the couch so she can straighten that out."

  "Oh no," I protested, seeing Bastien's murderous expression. "I…I'm fine…really…"

  But there was no arguing with Dana. She supported me under one arm, and he took the other. I hobbled over to the couch, putting my weight only on the right foot. Once I was stretched out, she pushed my jeans up over my calf and felt the ankle with cautious, expert precision, carefully examining each inch. I appreciated her solicitous concern and apparent first-aid know-how, but the thought of this wretched woman touching my leg repulsed me. Besides, what I really wanted were those cookies. Fuck my ankle.

  "It doesn't feel broken," she finally decided. "Probably just a sprain, lucky for you. We should ice it."

  When Bastien neither did nor offered anything useful, she went into the kitchen. I could hear her opening drawers and the freezer.

  "Do you hate me or something?" he hissed once we were alone.

  "This wasn't my fault," I countered. "I think you've got a defective stair."

  "Defective my ass. The only thing that's defective is your sense of timing. Do you know how close I was to scoring?"

  "Close? Close? Not to use a cliche, but hell was closer to freezing over than you were to scoring. I don't think she really goes for the babbling, high kind of guy."

  "I wasn't babbling. And there's no way she knows I'm high."

  "Oh, come on. If you were any higher, you'd—"

  I shut my mouth as Dana returned with the ice pack. She knelt by my feet and carefully set the pack on the injured ankle. I grimaced at the sudden change of temperature, but the shocking cold did numb the throbbing.

  Still concerned, she surveyed the rest of my lower leg with those sharp eyes. Again, she felt around the ankle area, her hands gently touching here and there. She frowned. "I could be wrong about how serious it is. You should keep icing it and take ibuprofen. If it doesn't get better in a couple days, go see your doctor."

  "Thanks," I said, looking away. Honestly, what I found most disconcerting now was how sincerely concerned she seemed. Maybe we'd misjudged her all along. Nah.

  "Well," breezed Bastien, "if Tabby Cat's okay, maybe we should go to the kitchen and have some coffee—"

  "Do you know how it happened?" Dana asked me, ignoring him.

  "Oh…just a misstep I think…or maybe the stair is defective."

  "I doubt there's anything wrong with the stairs," said Bastien. "Tabitha's always been clumsy, that's all. It's legendary in our family."

  Dana, oblivious to me glaring at the incubus over the slam to my gracefulness, glanced over at my shoes sitting near the door. They were strappy and black, with three-inch heels.

  "Are those what you've been wearing?" She fixed me with a stern, motherly look. "I know how strong societal pressure can be in making you think you need to fit a certain mold. But walking around in shoes like that all day will do serious damage to your feet. Not only that, they send a message that you have no shame when it comes to—"

  The doorbell rang then. None of us moved at first, and then Bastien rose, looking amazed that this night could get any worse.

  Dana dropped her wardrobe lecture and switched to a medical one. "You really need to be careful with this. Too much stress will agitate it. "

  Bastien returned a moment later with an utterly puzzled Seth, whom I suspected had no idea who had just let him in. Indeed, his bewilderment grew as he scanned Dana and me, no doubt wondering if he had the right house.

  "Hi Seth," I said pointedly, in too loud of a voice, "thanks for coming to pick me up."

  He continued to stare, and then the faintest gleam of understanding showed in his eyes. He'd seen me shape-shift clothes often, but this was the first time he'd ever seen me in another body.

  Dana looked around expectantly.

  "Oh," I said, my mind still running a little slow from the pot. "This is, um, Seth. Seth, Dana."

  "Hello," she said, rising smoothly and shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

  "Um, yeah. You too." I had a feeling he would bolt if given half a chance.

  "Seth is Tabitha's boyfriend," explained Bastien. "I imagine they'll want to be on their way now."

  "I'd heard you were single. How long have you two been dating?" she asked, steering us toward casual conversation.

  Neither of us answered. "A couple months," I said at last, wondering if my virtue was once again being assessed.

  She smiled. "How nice."

  I started feeling those creepy vibes again, and suddenly I did
want to leave. I tried to sit up, and she rushed to my side. "Someone grab her other arm."

  When Bastien didn't move, Seth was finally spurred into action. He supported my other side and helped me stand. It was clear, however, that touching me in this body unnerved him, and he tried to manage it while staying as far away from me as possible. Consequently, all of his movements seemed awkward and unnatural, and no doubt Dana thought we were even weirder than before.

  She and Seth helped me to the car, Bastien following with a pout. When I was situated in the passenger seat, Dana offered a few parting words of instruction to both Seth and me on how to care for the ankle.

  "Thanks for the help," I told her.

  "Happy to. Just try to be more careful from now on." She glanced at her watch. "Well. I should probably go home myself."

  "Do you have to?" asked Bastien stupidly. "Er, I mean, no need to feel rushed…"

  "Thank you, but no. Bill will wonder what happened to me."

  I saw her walk back to her house as Seth pulled out. I also saw the look on Bastien's face. The morning after was not going to be pretty.

  We were almost in the city when Seth finally spoke. "Can you…uh…you know…change? This is really weird."

  "Huh?" I had been staring bleary-eyed out the window, intrigued by the blur of city lights. "Oh. Yeah."

  A moment later, I was the Georgina Kincaid he knew.

  "Thanks. So, uh…I don't suppose I really want to know what was going on back there…"

  "Nope." I craned my head to look in the backseat. "You really don't."

  "What are you doing?"

  "You don't have any cookies back there do you?"

  "Uh…no. I'm all out."

  I sighed and sank into my seat. "I am starving. I don't think I can hold on much longer. You sure you don't have any other food?"

  The ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Nope. Sorry. You want to stop somewhere?"

  "Yes!"

  He pulled into a Taco Bell drive-thru, looking surprised when I gave him my order. When it came up, he wordlessly handed me my bag of four tacos, two bean burritos, and a tostada. I dove into them before he'd even accelerated away.

  When we got back to my place, he didn't give me the chance to limp in. He scooped me up effortlessly, almost like O'Neill might have in one of his novels. If not for me being stoned and clinging to a taco, it would have been terribly romantic.

  "You think I'm a freak, don't you?" I asked, once I was situated in bed and he sat on its edge. Seth had tended me once before, after a night of heavy drinking. I felt so irresponsible compared to him.

  "Well, the tostada was kind of excessive, but I've seen freakier."

  "No…you know. I mean…" I hesitated. "Well, you may not realize this, but I've sort of been smoking…some stuff."

  "Yeah. I kind of picked up on that."

  "Oh. Well. Sorry." I bit into one of the burritos savagely.

  "Why are you apologizing?"

  "Because…well, you don't do this."

  "Do what?"

  "Smoke pot. Or drink. Geez, you even avoid caffeine. Don't you think I'm like, I don't know…corrupt?"

  "Corrupt?" He laughed. "Hardly. Anyway, you don't think I've ever done any of that?"

  The idea was just shocking enough to give me pause. I put my gluttony on hold. "Well…I don't know. I just figured, well, no. Either that, or you had some tragic history…like you got drunk and hit a mailbox or took off all your clothes in public and now avoid all such vices."

  "That would be tragic. But rest easy, I indulged in plenty of 'vices' in college. That's why it took me six years to graduate. Well, that and changing my major a few times. In the end, I just decided to abstain altogether. Didn't like myself otherwise. Sobriety's better for writing, and I say too many stupid things when I'm drunk or high."

  "Yeah," I said uneasily, trying to remember what I'd said tonight. It was kind of a haze. "So you don't think I'm like…I don't know, a shameless lush?"

  "Nope. So long as you don't do yourself harm." He eyed the ankle suspiciously. "It doesn't matter to me. Honestly, half the reason I like you is because you're so…I don't know. You like life." He looked away from my eyes, amused as his thoughts spun, considering. "You're fearless. Bold. Not afraid to enjoy yourself. You just go out there and do what you want. I like the whirlwind you exist in. I envy it. It's funny, really." He smiled. "I used to think I wanted someone exactly like me, but now I think I'd be bored to death with another version of myself. I'm surprised I don't bore you sometimes."

  I gaped. "Are you kidding? You're the most interesting person I know. Aside from Hugh maybe. But then, he installs breast implants and buys souls. That's a hard combination to beat. But he's not nearly as cute."

  Seth's smile increased, and he squeezed my hand. Silence fell between us again, but this time it was kind of cozy.

  "Thanks for rescuing me," I said slowly, "and for…well…I mean, I'm sorry about last night. Sorry I shut down."

  His face sobered. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

  "No," I said firmly. "Don't blame yourself. It was me too. My fault too. And really, I was the one who started it. I should have just talked to you about it then. Especially after you made me pancakes this morning. You know, those suddenly sound really good again." I looked at him meaningfully.

  "We shouldn't have done what we did…in bed…but, at least we did manage to stop. That's worth something."

  I nodded, crumpling up the Taco Bell bag and tossing it across the room into my wastebasket. Score.

  He studied me, eyes warm and affectionate. He sighed and turned pensive again. There apparently was more seriousness to come. "I'd like to try sleeping together again, but I suppose…we should take a break from that. "

  I mirrored his sigh. "Yeah. I suppose." Remembering something, I cocked my head and gave him a sharp look. "Hey, hypothetically—and I'm not offering this, so don't get any ideas—would you, like, give up part of your life to sleep with me? Er, but I mean…not actually sleep… "

  He laughed out loud, the laughter underscored with a wry edge. "Thetis, I'd give up part of my life to do any number of things with you."

  My interest flared. "Like what?"

  "Well…isn't it obvious?"

  I leaned toward him. Maybe I was still high and suffering from weed-induced horniness—and hey, in another reality, shouldn't we have been entitled to make-up sex?—but I suddenly and desperately wanted to hear him articulate what he wanted to do to me. "Tell me."

  He shook his head. "I can't. You know how I am." His eyes narrowed intently. "I could maybe…I could maybe write it for you, though."

  "Really? Not in published story form this time?"

  "Yes, not in published story form."

  "I'd like that."

  I must have looked expectant because he laughed. "Not tonight, Thetis. Not tonight. I think we both need some sleep."

  I was disappointed but could see the wisdom here. Having more time would ensure some good writing, I guessed. Furthermore, it was hard to be too sad when the tension from last night's mishap appeared to be gone. Our rapport and affection had returned, and watching him, I felt my feelings for him practically increase by the second. We chatted a bit more, and then he kissed me lightly on the mouth and rose. I wistfully watched him go, wishing he were staying.

  Drifting off to sleep, I finally contented myself by thinking about all the things I wanted to do to him. It was a long list, and I was out before even getting through a fraction of it.

  CHAPTER 8

  "Georgina?"

  I looked up from a baffling return Tammi had asked me to help her with. A customer without a receipt was attempting a refund on a stack of books with dog-eared pages and broken spines, claiming all of them were duplicates someone had just given him for his birthday.

  "Just a sec," I told her. "I've got to finish this."

  "Okay," Beth said. "I just thought you should check out Casey."

  "Casey?"

 
; "Yeah. She's up in the cafe."

  That snagged my attention. I finished up with the customer, telling him nicely that we couldn't accept books in this condition. Maybe if the alleged other books were in better shape, he could bring those in. He pouted and argued a bit before finally skulking off. I rolled my eyes once he was gone. One thing that never changed among humans: there were always those who wanted to get something for nothing. It was what kept hell in business.

  I found Casey sitting in the cafe, drinking a glass of water. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she didn't display her usual care in makeup and hairstyling. She stared bleakly at the table, eyes dull and glazed over.

  "Hey," I said gently, pulling up a chair across from her. "How's it going?"

  After a moment's delay, she looked up, not really focusing on me. "Okay."

  "You sure? You don't look so okay."

  "Dunno." Her tone was flat, distracted. "I just had a late night, that's all. Sorry. Sorry I came in like this."

  "No problem. I've had my share of crazy nights." The thing was, Casey didn't exactly look hung over. I mean, she definitely looked like she was recovering from something…but I couldn't put my finger on it. It was weird. "What'd you get into? A party?"

  "Yeah. Doug's band had another one."

  "Really." News to me. "Must have been pretty good."

  "Dunno."

  "What do you mean? You were there."

  Her brow furrowed, confusion glinting in her brown eyes. "I don't…really remember. Stupid, huh? I must have really been trashed. I remember…being with Alec. Then we left. We went somewhere. "

  "You don't know?"

  She looked upset and closed her eyes. "There was this big house, and…I don't know. I just…I just can't remember. I'm sorry, Georgina. I shouldn't have come in today, okay? Sorry."

  "It's okay. So you have no idea what you did with him? Nothing at all?"

  She shook her head. I shouldn't have kept pushing for details of an employee's personal life, but something here bothered me. It was more than my bias against Alec too. I remembered him pushing alcohol on women, his invitation to go somewhere "more intense." Casey's inability to remember what had happened with him smacked of date-rape drugs.