“I’ve got a phone call to make,” he told the girls. “If this slacker wakes up”-he gestured at Adam, still conked out in his sleeping bag-“tell him not to touch my aftershave.”
“Yeah, we’ll make sure he knows your makeup and hair gel is off-limits too,Tyra,” Harper mocked. He tossed a pillow at her, hitting Miranda, instead. She grabbed it with a giggle and threw it back at him, the worn gray tank top she’d slept in rising up to reveal a taut band of skin above her low-riding boxers.
“Back in a flash, ladies. Try not to miss me too much.” He tipped an imaginary hat to them and slipped out to the hallway. Let his friends sleep in and waste the day away watching TV. Kane had been up for an hour or two and was already showered, impeccably dressed, and ready to go. He just had a few details to finalize.
He dialed the number. “I’m here,” he said into the phone, before his contact had a chance to speak. “When can we meet?”
“Do you have the cash?”
“Do you have the stuff?”
There was a pause. “I have what I said I would. You shouldn’t have to ask.”
Kane always had to ask. “Just tell me where.” A few girls he vaguely recognized from Haven High wandered down the hall in their pajamas, giggling and blushing when they spotted him. He waved, flashed the famous smirk, then, as soon as they passed, turned toward the wall and hunched over the phone. Normally he loved nothing more than to see and, more importantly, be seen; but this was nobody’s business but his own. “Where and when?”
“Two thirty. At the Fantasia, by the fountain in the rear lobby. You know the place?”
“I’ll find it,” Kane said, and snapped the phone shut. He checked his watch: He had almost two hours to kill. Two hours in paradise-not usually the kind of thing he minded. But he was impatient to get the meeting over with, the deal done. He headed back into the room to swig some mouthwash and grab his wallet, his mind already running through all his options for pleasure in the pleasure center of the world.
He never needed a reason to go to Vegas, his haven away from Haven. It had everything he could ever want: booze, blues, girls, gambling, endless possibilities. But a little added incentive never hurt anyone, and as far as he was concerned, there was no better incentive than cold, hard cash.
As much of it as possible.
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Harper pressed herself against the bathroom door, blocking his exit. It was far too early in the morning for her plans to be falling so completely apart.
Kane hoisted himself up onto the bathroom sink and swung his feet off the edge. “I mean, I’m walking out the door, closing it behind me, walking down the hall, getting on the elevator-”
“Shut up,” Harper snapped. “It’s too early for sarcasm.”
“It’s past noon,” Kane pointed out.
“Whatever. Are you forgetting what we talked about last night?”
Kane tipped his head to the side, tapped his chin, and pretended to think. “World peace?”
He could be such a bastard sometimes-and yet so useful. At least when he decided to play nice. “We talked about the concert tomorrow. The Crash Burners, remember?” His face remained an impenetrable blank. “You promised to help me track down some tickets today. For Miranda?”
Kane shook his head. “Any promises made under the influence are null and void. Look it up in the rulebook.”
“Geary, you’re always under the influence of something or other,” Harper pointed out.
He rewarded her with a smile. “And now you understand why I never keep a promise.”
“You’re pathetic.” So much for Miranda’s fabulous birthday weekend. So much for her promise, drunken or not. What was she supposed to do all day instead: lie around the room feeling sorry for herself?
“And you love it.” Kane hopped off the sink and scooped Harper out of the doorway. “Look, I can give you the name of a guy I know, he works the controls at the Oasis Volcano, he’ll probably be able to help. Go see him-and bring Adam.”
Harper wrinkled her nose. “Why would I do that?” The less time spent with Adam this weekend, the better. It was hard enough shutting him out of her life when he wasn’t around. But when he was right in front of her, staring at her with those “love me” puppy-dog eyes, how was she supposed to keep her emotional distance? She was already this close to letting him back in-it was only running into Beth last night that had snapped her back to reality, reminding her that she’d never be able to match up to the pretty princess in Adam’s eyes. And she was sick of spending all her energy to claw her way into second place.
“This guy… he’s got some issues. He won’t talk to strangers-he’ll only help you if he thinks he’s dealing with me. And unless you want to dress in drag…”
Harper rolled her eyes. “I suppose Adam’s got a Kane mask stashed away in his suitcase somewhere?”
“I’ve never met the guy face-to-face,” Kane explained. “He does me favors sometimes, when he’s in the mood. Just get Adam to say he’s me. It’ll be almost as good as having the real thing.”
“You know what would be even better?” Harper drawled. “Having the real thing. You’re really going to ditch me and leave me with… him?”
Kane gave her a condescending pat on the head. “It’s for your own good, Grace. So take it or leave it.”
She hated to lose. And only Kane knew quite how much-which was why, she was sure, he took such a special pleasure in beating her. “I’ll take it.” She sighed, then decided to press her luck. “And I’ll take something else, too.” She opened her palm and held it out in front of him.
“You want me to give you five?” he asked, willfully obtuse. He slapped her palm lightly. “If you insist.”
“More than five, Geary. If you’re going to send me off on some wild-goose chase looking for your skeezy errand boy, I’m going to need to find a way to keep Miranda occupied. And that’s going to cost.”
Kane grabbed her hand and, firmly, pushed it back down to her side. “Just take her with you.”
“It’s got to be a surprise,” Harper insisted. “I don’t want her to suspect anything.”
“And you don’t think dragging me into the bathroom and locking the two of us in isn’t going to make her just a little suspicious?” Kane asked, raising an eyebrow.
She hated that he could do that. In junior high, she’d spent hours in front of the mirror trying to train her eyebrow muscles to work independently of each other, but she’d failed miserably. Maybe the skill was genetic-if so, Harper guessed, it was probably linked to the genes for selfishness, smugness, asshole-ishness, and all the other qualities Kane Geary carried so proudly.
She couldn’t help but admire him.
But that didn’t mean she was going to back down.
“Let me worry about that,” she told him. “Just help me out with this. If you don’t care about helping me, think of Miranda.” From the look on his face, Harper knew it was the right card to play. She knew that, no matter how much Miranda might wish for it, there was no way in hell Kane would ever fulfill her sad little romantic fantasy and declare his love. But Kane knew it too, and Harper suspected that somewhere beneath his preening, posing shell, he felt a little sorry.
Apparently not sorry enough. “Nice try. No sale.”
Harper shrugged. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He peered at her suspiciously.
“Sure.” She gave him a perky grin. “No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
“What’s the catch?”