Part 37 (2/2)

I had begun to worry when it started to get late and Daphne hadn't come back to the room. Garrick was pa.s.sed out on the couch in the suite and Tobin was raiding the minibar and giving me sidelong death glances, so I decided to go looking for her. Somehow, I knew she'd be in the club. And from the looks of her, I'd been right to be worried.

”I think two shots will get me buzzed,” she says. ”I think a third shot will get me properly drunk. It may take four or five before I black out. I don't know. I've never had alcohol before.”

”How did you even get those?” I'd used the ID that said I was twenty-one at the entrance of the club, but because of the talent compet.i.tion, the place is overrun by underage kids and their families.

Daphne has a bright fluorescent green stamp on her hand to indicate she isn't legal.

”Stole 'em off a tray.”

”That takes some guts.”

”Don't worry, I'll leave some money on the table.”

”That's not what I'm worried about.”

”I haven't decided if I'm going to keep trying to drink this one yet,” she says, running her finger around the rim of the gla.s.s. ”I don't drink. I swore I never would because of Joe. My mom is always giving me lectures about how kids of alcoholics have to be real careful-how underage drinking increases their risks of losing control. I don't like not being in control. It doesn't fit into my plan.

Everything I've done my whole life has been part of my master plan. Teaching myself music, rehearsing day and night, practicing self-discipline. It was all leading toward the same goal. I knew exactly where I was going and how I wanted to get there. And then you had to come along. . . .”

”Can I sit?”

She shrugs. ”It's not like I could stop you.”

”You could if you wanted to.”

She looks up at me. ”Could I?”

I purse my lips.

The guy with the ba.s.s guitar finishes his solo and the crowd goes wild with applause. A table of who I a.s.sume are judges hold up white cards with numbers on them. The audience gets even more excited.

She slides over in the booth. ”Knock yourself out.” She pats the seat next to her and I figure she's inviting me to sit next to her, not punch myself in the head. So I sit.

She scoots the shot gla.s.s closer to her. ”I've been in denial since last night,” she says. ”Thinking I have some sort of say in all of this. It's just . . . telling Tobin about his sister made all of this suddenly feel very real. Too real.” The tip of her finger curls over the lip of the gla.s.s into the amber liquid.

”And I haven't got the slightest idea what to do.”

I want to tell her to give in. I want to tell her to stop fighting her destiny. I want to tell her to agree to come with me. Instead, I say, ”I don't think you're going to find the answers in the bottom of that gla.s.s.”

”Yeah, but maybe I'll find some distraction. I want to forget for a while,” she says, holding the gla.s.s.

She sighs and looks up at the girl on the stage. ”That was supposed to be me, you know?”

”How so?”

”It's funny,” she says, ”that I'm here. This weekend. In Las Vegas. Trying to save myself. Because that was part of my original plan.”

A girl onstage goes to the microphone and starts singing. She's good, but not half as good as Daphne.

”My plan was to be here for this very compet.i.tion.” She points up at the sign over the stage. ”All-American Teen Talent Compet.i.tion. I was headed to the preliminary auditions for this compet.i.tion the day Joe showed up in Ellis and told me I was coming to live with him. Before I met you. This was the plan. I was going to kill it at the auditions and make it past the preliminary round and end up here.” She laughs a little to herself. ”I told Jonathan that I'd settle for second place, but that wasn't true. I knew I'd end up here. Some big talent scout or college recruiter was going to see me sing and give me my big break. My big ticket out of Ellis Fields. Away from that small-town, n.o.body life.” She gives a short little laugh. ”I didn't know that the final compet.i.tion was going to be at the Crossroads, though.

That's just kind of . . . weird.”

I nod.

”I guess it wouldn't have mattered. They would have just sent you to Ellis Fields instead of Olympus Hills. I'd still be in this mess, and the plan would still have gone to h.e.l.l.” She smirks like she finds it all pretty funny. From the way she's talking so openly, I'd think she's already had more to drink than a couple of sips.

”You know?” she says, seeming to speak to the shot gla.s.s instead of me. ”Why the h.e.l.l not? Let's get good and drunk. My life is probably over anyway.” She picks up the gla.s.s, like she's going to down it in one gulp ”Bottoms up!” she says, pinching her nose.

”No,” I say, putting my hand over the top of the gla.s.s, stopping her. ”I've got a better idea for a distraction.” I set the gla.s.s on the tray of a pa.s.sing server. ”Come on.” I pull her from the booth.

”What are we doing?” she asks, but she doesn't protest being propelled from the club out into the casino.

”You'll see. First, we need some leverage.”

I tell her to wait outside the club entrance and I make my way nonchalantly to an unoccupied slot machine. I watch how a woman in a giant, tentlike dress uses the machine next to mine. Then I pull a quarter from my pocket and put it into the slot machine. I pull the lever and then place my hand on top of the machine and send an electrical pulse into it from my fingertips. The woman next to me goes nuts as the entire row of slot machines comes to life, blinking and beeping and announcing a winner.

”Jackpot!” she shouts. ”Jackpot!” All eyes are on her as I pull a slip of paper from my own blinking machine.

Five thousand dollars. Not bad for my first attempt at the slots.

”What was that?” Daphne asks as I lead her back inside the club.

”I told you. Leverage.”

I walk right up to the table where the MC for the compet.i.tion waits while the contestants perform on the stage. She's a middleaged woman who is sporting more cleavage than s.h.i.+rt.

”What are you doing, Haden?” Daphne whispers after me.

I lean in close to the MC, and she looks up at me, a bit more than startled. I set the slip of paper on the table in front of her. ”How about a late entry?”

”I'm sorry, sonny. I can't do that.”

”You've got to. You see my friend over there?” I gesture to Daphne, who stands very tentatively a few feet behind me. She probably thinks I've gone insane. ”It was her dream to be part of this compet.i.tion, but something came up that threw off her plan, something that was kind of my fault, and now I'm trying to make it up to her. And I need you to help me.” I smile at her in a way that hopefully doesn't make her think of me as a ”sonny” and slide the paper closer to her so she can see the amount of money she can redeem it for. ”Just let her sing, please?”

”All right, honey,” she whispers. ”Can't say no to a boy with a smile like that. And this ain't too bad, too.” She picks up the slip of paper and tucks it into the front of her s.h.i.+rt. ”I'd think about telling you my room number, sugar, but it's obvious you've got a thing for your friend over there.” I whisper a few more things to her, and then when the latest contestant finishes and the crowd applauds, the MC heads up to the stage.

<script>