Wicked Lovely (Wicked Lovely 1)

Instead of rehashing that argument, she went and grabbed the bill out of the trash. “Thanks for taking care of it.”

She handed it to him. Right now, it didn’t matter if he did it or not: she couldn’t pay the cable bill and get ink, and really, she didn’t watch cable enough to justify paying for it. Mostly, she paid it because she was embarrassed by the idea of anyone finding out that her family couldn’t pay a bill, as if by keeping it normal as long as possible maybe it’d get n

ormal. It kept her from facing the inevitable pity and whispers if everyone found out how lame her father had become since Mom left, if they found out just how low her brother had gotten.

By fall she’d be in college, escaped from here, away from them. Just like Mom did—escape. Sometimes she wondered if her mother had been escaping something she didn’t want Leslie to know about. If so, her mother’s leaving made more sense—but her leaving Leslie behind made less sense. It doesn’t matter. Leslie had already sent out her first-choice applications and applied for a bunch of scholarships. That’s what matters—getting a plan and getting out. Next year she’d be safe, in a new city, in a new life.

But that didn’t stop the wave of terror she felt as Ren lifted his bourbon in a silent salute.

Without another word, she grabbed her bag.

“Catch you later, sis,” Ren called, before he turned his attention to packing another bowl.

No. You won’t.

By the time Leslie walked up the steps to Bishop O’Connell High School, her fears were safely tucked back in their box. She’d gotten better at watching for the warning signs—the tense calls that meant Ren was in trouble again, the strangers in the house. She worked extra if there were too many warning signs. She’d put locks on her bedroom door. She didn’t drink out of open bottles. Her safeguards didn’t undo what was, but they helped avoid what could be.

“Leslie! Hold up,” Aislinn called out from behind her.

Leslie stopped and waited, schooling her face to be bland and calm, not that it mattered: Aislinn had been lost in her own world lately. A few months ago, she’d hooked up with the all-too-yummy Seth. They’d been practically dating anyhow, so that wasn’t so weird. What was weird was that Aislinn had simultaneously developed a very intense relationship with another guy, Keenan. Somehow neither guy seemed to object to the other.

The guys who’d walked Aislinn to school stood watching her from across the street while she caught up to Leslie. Keenan and Niall, his uncle, didn’t move from their post, seeming far too serious—and apparently oblivious to the number of people watching them like they were members of the Living Zombies. Leslie wondered if Niall played an instrument. He was sexier than any of the Zombies. If he played or sang too…he’d be halfway to success just by looking so delicious. He had a mysterious aura, plus he was a couple years older than Leslie and Aislinn—a college sophomore maybe. Add that oddly sexy responsibility thing—he was one of Keenan’s guardians, an uncle, but still young—and he seemed like a perfect package, one she was staring at again.

When he smiled and waved, Leslie had to force herself not to go toward him. She always felt like that when he looked at her. There was an illogical urge to run toward him, like something was coiled too tightly inside her and the only way to ease the tension was to go to him. She didn’t. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself over a guy who hadn’t shown any genuine interest. Maybe he would, though. So far, their only contact had been under the watchful eye of Keenan or Aislinn, and that was usually interrupted by Aislinn’s flimsy excuses to go somewhere away from Niall.

Aislinn put her hand on Leslie’s arm. “Come on.”

And, like they had so often, they walked away from Niall.

Leslie turned her attention to Aislinn. “Wow. Rianne said you were crazy tan, but I didn’t believe it.”

Aislinn’s perpetually pale skin was perfectly tan, as if she’d been living on a beach, as tan as Keenan always was. It hadn’t been that way on Friday. Aislinn bit down on her lip—a nervous habit that usually meant she was feeling cornered. “It’s some winter thing—SAD, they called it—so I needed to get some sunlight.”

“Right.” Leslie tried to keep the doubt out of her voice and failed. Aislinn didn’t seem depressed at all—or to have reason to be depressed lately. In fact, she seemed like she’d become rather flush with money and attention. A few times when Leslie had seen her out with Keenan, both of them had been wearing matching twisted golden necklaces that fit snugly around their throats. The clothes that Aislinn wore, the new winter coats, the chauffeurs, and—let’s not forget—Seth’s being cool with all of it. Depressed? Yeah, right.

“Did you go over the reading for Lit?” Aislinn pulled open the door and they joined the throng of people in the halls.

“We had a dinner thing out of town, so I didn’t finish.” Leslie gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Ren even dressed with all the required pieces of clothing.”

They both continued to steer the conversation away from topics they didn’t want to address. Leslie lied easily, but Aislinn seemed determined to direct the conversation toward neutral subjects. Eventually, she glanced behind her—as if there were someone there—and made another random topic switch: “Are you still working over at Verlaine’s?”

Leslie looked: there wasn’t anyone there. “Sure. It drives Dad mad that I wait tables, and you know, gives me a good excuse if I need to explain my weird hours.”

Leslie didn’t admit that she had to work or that her father didn’t have a clue what she did for money. She wasn’t sure her father knew she had a job or that she paid the bills. He might have thought Ren was doing it, although he probably didn’t realize Ren was dealing—or selling me—to get his money. Talking about money, home, and Ren was so not the sort of conversation she wanted to have, so she took a turn shifting the topic. With a conspiratorial grin, she looped her arm around Aislinn’s waist and assumed the facade she adopted with her friends. “So, let’s talk about Keenan’s sexy uncle. What’s the scoop on him? Is he seeing anyone?”

“Niall? He’s just…he’s not, but…” Aislinn frowned. “You don’t want to mess with him. There’s prettier…I mean, better…”

“I doubt that, sweetie. Your vision’s clouded by staring at Seth too long.” Leslie patted Aislinn’s arm. “Niall’s top shelf.”

His face was as beautiful as Keenan’s but in a different way: Niall’s had character. One long scar ran from his temple to the corner of his mouth, and he wasn’t shy about it. His hair was cut so short that there was no chance of anything detracting from the beauty of that jagged line. And his body…wow. He was all sinew and length, moving like he had been training in some long-lost martial art since birth. Leslie couldn’t figure why anyone would notice Keenan when Niall was around. Keenan was attractive enough, with his unnatural green eyes, perfect body, and sandy-blond hair. He was gorgeous, but he moved in a way that always made Leslie think he wasn’t quite meant for civilization. He frightened her. Niall, on the other hand, was luscious and seemed sweet—kind in a way that Keenan wasn’t.

Leslie prompted, “So relationships…”

“He doesn’t, umm, do relationships.” Aislinn spoke softly. “Anyhow, he’s too old.”

Leslie let it drop for the moment. Although Aislinn was spending much of her time “not-dating” Keenan, she kept her school friends separate from Keenan’s crowd as much as possible. When they did intersect, Aislinn clung to Leslie like an extra limb, giving no opportunities for Leslie to have conversations with anyone who hung around Keenan—most especially Niall. For a moment, Leslie wondered if she’d be so intrigued by Niall if it weren’t for Aislinn’s playing keep-away. The more Aislinn acted as an obstacle, the more Leslie wanted nearer Niall. An older guy with a drool-worthy body and seemingly no bad habits to speak of and somehow forbidden: how could that not be appealing?

But Aislinn’s plate was overfilled with Seth and Keenan, so maybe she just wasn’t getting it. Or maybe she knows something. Leslie forced that thought away: if Aislinn had a legitimate reason to think Niall was bad news, she’d say something. They might be in the middle of this weird dance of secrecy, but they were still friends.