Silence - eARC Page 8

  It was much bigger than she had expected. Not that she’d ever actually seen a mansion herself, except a couple in New York City that had been turned into museums or something. But this was enormous. Three stories tall, and it sprawled away on either side from a massive portico supported by six stone columns. All she could think of was that the electric bill to light the place must be the equivalent of most peoples’ mortgages.

  There was a circular drive (of course there was) that led under the portico. Sean stopped the car there; the kids in the back all piled out, as a servant opened the doors, first for them, then for her. Sean got out on his side and held out his hand to her to help her out. She flushed, wishing desperately that she was wearing something other than what she was. Like that cute little beaded dress that Brenda stole…

  Rather than going into the mansion, however, Sean led the way around the side, giving her plenty of time to admire the gardener’s handiwork and try not to gawp at the size of the place. Once they got to the back, it was pretty obvious that this was where the partying was happening.

  There was a massive pool, of course, with not just one, but four huge Jacuzzis, and a sort of artificial stream, like Staci had seen in the brochures for fancy resorts that Brenda was always getting. The stream was big enough to have a bridge over it, and there were several people—some fully clothed—floating down it in brightly colored inner-tubes. There were four tent pavilions set up, one by the pool, one on an immense lawn between the pool and the mansion, one on an immense patio attached to the mansion, and one in the garden. They were all lit up with colored lights, and she could see big tables with stuff on them and servants standing behind them, and little tables and chairs inside the nearest. The pool had its own lighting, underwater, cycling through colors. The patio had its own lighting, designed to be bright enough you could see, but neither harsh nor glaring. The gardens had lights buried in the shrubbery, and the fountain in the garden was all lit up.

  There was a second house beside the pool, easily bigger than the one she shared with her mom. “I live there,” Sean said, with a nod at it. “It makes cleaning up after parties easier, and keeps the rest of my family from getting hassled. Just tell one of the servants if you want anything.” He patted her hand and gently detached it from his elbow. “I have to make the rounds for a little bit, being as I’m the host and all, but I’ll be back.” He paused, and waved a hand at a lounge chair placed by itself a little away from the pool. “That’s a comfortable seat. One of the servants will be around in a minute to see what you need.”

  Feeling utterly overwhelmed by so much luxury, she couldn’t think of what to do except take his advice. The lounge was covered, not in the canvas she expected from outdoor furniture, but something soft and velvety. She tucked her legs up, and was just starting to look around when a man in a formal uniform approached her.

  “And what may I get miss?” he asked, sounding like a butler in a series about rich English lords, only without the accent.

  “I’m…not sure…” she stammered.

  “Would miss prefer soda or a strong beverage?” he asked, his face absolutely blank, as she looked up at him. “Our bartenders can mix anything you like.”

  She cast a glance around. Everyone else seemed to be drinking beer or mixed drinks. And…most of them looked, at least to her, underage. Still…yeah, I really need to get hammered when most of these people probably know my mom as one of the local lushes…“Coke?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” the servant said, actually sounding sorry. “The Blackthornes have a serious allergic reaction to caffeine. We have any other soda, however.”

  Caffeine allergy? She’d never heard of that before. That must suck. Then she almost giggled as she thought of something. “I’ll have a Shirley Temple,” she said. “Thank you.” She’d look like she was drinking, without actually drinking. And if she got tired of sweet stuff, there were always Virgin Marys.

  “Certainly, miss, and I will bring miss an assortment of snacks, as well.” The servant didn’t wait for her reply to this, he just whisked himself off to the pavilion and before she’d had a chance to do more than try and find the kids from the BBQ among the other partiers, he was back with her drink and a plate of hot and cold snacks. He set both on a little table next to her, and whisked himself off again before she even had a chance to offer her thanks. She had never been waited on like this before; restaurant waiters in NYC weren’t exactly rude, but they weren’t waiting at your every beck and call, either, not when there were three dozen tables during lunchtime that all needed attention.

  She was getting some veiled looks as she sat there by herself, nibbling and drinking. Eventually, Sean returned; one moment she was sipping her drink, looking at a wonderful fountain sculpture, and the next moment he was beside her.

  “Finding everything to your liking?” He smiled down at her.

  She decided that honesty was the best at this point. I bet he’s surrounded by phonies. So I’ll be different. “I don’t fit in,” she said. “But hey, I don’t fit in Silence anyway. I’m a New York girl. I wouldn’t even be here if my stepmother hadn’t kicked me out so her little angel boy could have my room.”

  “I was asking about the party and the refreshments, actually.” He chuckled. He wasn’t laughing at her, thank goodness. She was stumbling over herself for a moment to compliment him on everything; the food, the drinks, the service, how beautiful everything was.

  “It’s okay, Staci. But about what you were saying before…that…sucks,” he said, shaking his head. “Seriously. I can’t even imagine having…everything, right at your door, practically, then end up here, where there’s nothing.” Sean paused, thinking for a moment.

  God, does he have to look gorgeous while he does that, too?

  “How about this; let me introduce you around, help you to get to know a few people here. Would that be all right with you?”

  “Sure—” she said, because, really, what else could she say and not end up looking like some kind of antisocial freak?

  He held his hand out to her to help her up from her seat. She took his hand, and immediately noticed how strong it was; she wasn’t expecting it, especially when he easily helped her up, hardly needing to bend over. His fingers were strong, but somehow had a delicate quality to them. No bitten off nails or torn up cuticles; not quite manicured, either, but close. “Let’s get you properly introduced, now.”

  After that it was a whirlwind of faces and names, and Staci quickly lost track of who was who. She met the mayor’s kids, a brother and sister, the chief of police’s son—who was probably the most drunk person at the entire party—and a flood of others. While before they had looked at her with mild disdain, now that she was hanging off the elbow of Sean…they couldn’t wait to get to know her. How she got to Silence, what it was like in New York City, if she went to Broadway plays or went clubbing all the time. Many of them expressed their sympathy for her living situation, and the way she had been dumped by her father and new stepmother. Some of it actually felt genuine. Of course, they also were all inviting her to their own get-togethers and along for their own plans; trips to the mall in the next town over, house parties, all of it, and how it would just be wonderful if she could join them.

  There were others Sean introduced her to only briefly. People who were almost too drunk to stand. “It’s what they like,” he said apologetically, after one tried to kiss her, fell over his own feet, and miraculously landed in a lounge chair where he immediately passed out. “There’s plenty of room to sleep it off here, anyway, so it’s not as if I’m putting drunks on the road.” He chuckled. “The servants are all trained in picking pockets. Anyone too drunk to drive won’t find his keys until he’s sober.”

  “Wow!” she said, impressed. “That’s—”

  “It’s smart,” he interrupted. “If I didn’t take care of my guests, these parties would stop. Money doesn’t shield you from everything, you know. And it’s not as if there’s much to do in
Silence for some of them besides drink.” He shrugged.

  She looked at the food, at the pool, at the house…then again, if this was what you were used to, maybe you could get bored with it.

  Well, she wasn’t used to it. And aside from not knowing anyone, and so, often not knowing what people were talking about, this was probably the best party she had been to, ever. But after a while something made her look at her watch, and she realized with a sense of shock that it was after midnight. And once again, Sean seemed to somehow intuit what she was thinking.

  “I bet it’s getting late for you,” he said. “And it’s a long way back to town. Let me get you home.”

  He led her back around to the front of the mansion again, and that portico. She thought about being all alone with him in that car…wondered if he was going to try something… She had never had trouble putting off unwanted advances before, but everything about tonight seemed like it was from a completely different world.

  But to her mingled relief and disappointment, he left her with the—was it a butler? a footman?—waiting at the front of the house. “Get Padrick to take Miss Staci home, would you, Harris?” he said, once again gently detaching her hand from his arm. “I’m the host, and at this stage in the party, it would not only be rude to leave, it might be stupid,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’d find a television or all of the lounges in the pool, or something equally awkward. The chauffeur will take care of you. Just tell him where you need to go.”

  “Sean, thank you for everything. Tonight was…well, it was just great. I haven’t seen or been to anything like this since I’ve come to Silence. But…well, I had one question.”

  “I just might have one answer. Shoot, Staci.” He grinned, flashing those dazzling white teeth at her. Damn if he isn’t smooth.

  “Why me? I mean…” She let her voice fade, unable to articulate what she wanted to say. That she wasn’t all that special. That she wasn’t gorgeous—she’d seen gorgeous, there were models going to her old high school. She wasn’t able to make conversation of the kind that had guys hanging off her words. She wasn’t special, not in any way. She’d always considered herself good, but not special, because in New York, you could go see special walking around in Soho, or Dumbo, or the Village, any time you wanted to.

  “It’s not every day that we get anyone new coming to Silence. Especially cute girls.” He paused for a moment, still smiling before shrugging. “I like to know everyone that I can. You never can tell when it’ll be helpful, down the road. So, I figured I’d get to know you a little better tonight. Satisfied with my answer?”

  She nodded, unsure whether she wanted to feel flattered or obscurely disappointed. And she never got a chance to sort things out further, because that was when a huge, blood-red limousine, complete with a uniformed chauffeur, pulled up.

  “Here’s your ride,” he said brightly, and reached into a pocket, pulling out a little rectangular gold case. “And here’s my number,” he said, taking a card from it, and pressing it into her hand. Then he pulled out a tiny pencil from the case. “What’s yours?”

  She stammered, giving him her cell number first, by accident. “Oh wait, that’s my cell—” she corrected, flushing.

  “Which doesn’t work here,” he finished, with a nod of sympathy. She gave him her mom’s number, and he duly wrote it down inside the case. “If for some reason I don’t call you in a few days, I want you to call me. All right? I’m serious.”

  “Okay…”

  “Cool. We’ll hang out again soon, maybe get some coffee.” There was a peal of laughter and shouts from the rest of the party. “That’s my cue; better get back before anyone tries to climb on something. Good night, Staci.” With a final wave, he started to walk back to the party.

  Well, what else could she do but get in the limo, what with the driver standing there patiently holding the door open for her?

  It was like being driven around in a luxury hotel room. There was even a bar. Since it had bottled water, she helped herself to a bottle. The bottles were glass, not plastic, and unlabeled; she had seen “artesian water” like this served in super-high-end restaurants. It was even chilled.

  Just after they came out of the woods and were still at the top of the bluff, she remembered with dismay that she had left her bike at the church, and bit off an exclamation of annoyance.

  The little speaker next to the bar activated with a faint hiss. “Yes, miss?” the chauffeur said.

  She flushed. “Nothing. I’m just going to have to get my bike from the church tomorrow and it’s a l—”

  “Not at all, miss. Master Sean would be extremely put out if he found out we hadn’t picked it up for you. First Methodist, I believe?”

  “Uh—ye—”

  “Very good, miss.”

  The limo rolled to an almost silent stop at the church, which was, of course, dark. The gang had warned her that everything would close up by eleven at the latest, and it was almost one, now. The chauffeur came around to her door and let her out. “I’ll get the boot open, miss. If you’ll tell me where—”

  “No, no, it’s all right,” she said hastily. “I need to unlock it anyway.”

  “Very good, miss.” He went to the back of the car. She hurried off towards the bike rack at the front of the church. It was sitting under a single yellow streetlamp, which was flickering intermittently. She bent down to unlock the chain; the lock was being stubborn, refusing to come open even after she put the right combination in. The light above her flickered a few more times…and then she noticed one of the creepy gnomes with the red, pointed caps, sitting right next to the light pole, facing directly at her.

  Staci almost jumped out of her skin, falling onto her backside with a yelp of surprise and pain, her bike knocked over.

  “Miss, are you all right?” The driver was calling from the car; he must have heard her or saw her fall over in one of his mirrors.

  “Yeah, I’m fine…just got, um, startled.” She stood up, rubbing her now sore backside with one hand. “Stupid, weird little troll,” she muttered, kicking the gnome and sending it rolling off into some nearby bushes. Finally, she managed to unlock her bike, and trudged back to the limo with it in tow. I really hate whoever is putting those freaky lawn decorations everywhere. Really, really hate.

  The driver had exited the limo by that point, and took her bike from her and loaded it into the trunk, which was big enough to hold three bikes. She got into the back as he held the door open for her, and picked up her bottle of water. As she did so, she cast a sour glance at the bushes she’d kicked the freaky little gnome into.

  The light flickered again, and she thought she saw it—not lying flat, but standing up again. And…looking down the hill at the car, and her.

  But the limo rolled away and the light flickered out again, too quickly for her to be sure of what she had seen.

  Must be some shadows, or my mind playing tricks on me. It’s been a doozy of a night.

  Chapter Six

  As Staci unlocked the door to the house, she felt…eyes on the back of her neck. But when she turned a full circle, peering into the shadows, all she saw was another of those creepy lawn gnomes across the street. Shivering, she hastily got herself and her bike inside.

  Mom was predictably nowhere in sight, though there was an empty bottle of vodka and another of orange juice in the trash, along with the zombie-pizza box. She kind of wished now she actually had gotten a doggie bag from Sean’s party, crass as that was. The food had been really nice.

  She left the bike in the living room. Given everything that had been happening, she didn’t want to take a chance on losing her ride, and it was pretty obvious Mom wasn’t going to care if she kept her bike in the house. She could probably have kept a horse in the house and Mom wouldn’t care as long as it didn’t break into the fridge and drink her booze.

  When she got into bed, she had trouble falling asleep. She kept thinking about Sean… Is he just being nice? Is it just that I’m the firs
t new girl in town for a while? Is this a whole trophy thing or something? Back at her old school, if a girl was good enough to rank on the “hot” scale there was always this jockeying to see who could nail her first. Depending on how she played that, well, there were a lot of possible outcomes. Back home, she knew she was pretty, but nothing like as gorgeous as some of the other girls. But here…

  I guess I could be hot on a Silence scale.

  Then there was Sean himself. He was…well, perfect. Charming, cuter than hell, and rich; he didn’t seem to lord it over people, either. He looked equally comfortable talking to any of the cliques, and always had a smile ready. She could’ve gotten lost in his eyes forever, and she wouldn’t have cared. And for some reason, he was interested in her.

  With this and other thoughts running around in her head, she tossed restlessly, and only fell asleep after what seemed like hours.

  * * *

  By the next day all of that speculation seemed utterly ridiculous. As she fixed herself some cold cereal and milk, and looked around the shabby kitchen with its ancient appliances, cracked and peeling paint, and stained wallpaper, she swallowed down a lump of disappointment along with some orange juice. Because, really, what could someone like Sean Blackthorne have possibly seen in someone like her? She wasn’t a “lawyer’s daughter” anymore, or at least, not in ways that would count to the Blackthornes. She was the daughter of a cheap waitress that worked at a dive bar down near the docks. She hadn’t even been wearing her cute New York clothing; it had been what she’d gotten from the thrift store. Even if he had been marginally interested in her, once he checked on her background (and she knew from the way things worked back home that people like the Blackthornes always checked; pedigrees mattered to the upper crust) he’d know everything about her, and know she was never going to be “the right people.”