Page 2 of The Puck Decoy

Daemon isn’t the type of person that lets people in, but after three years playing on the same hockey team, and living in the same house, he didn’t really have a choice when it came to me. It’s why I’m here now, pacing the one bit of clear space at the foot of his bed as I try to gather my thoughts.

“Fucking archaic bullshit that’s what it is,” I spit, not gaining any more of his attention than I already have. Not that it matters, he has been witness to this particular rant more than once over the last month. “I’m twenty-one, who fucking gets married at twenty-one?”

“You apparently,” Daemon grumbles, eyes laser-focused on whatever is on the page in front of him, his pencil still moving.

I ignore him as I continue. “And Christ, the names on this damn list, so many fucking names,” I hiss, smacking the list in my hand with the other. “Serena Lock, Callie White, Jessica Farmhouse, Lana Cockworth, I mean really? Lana fucking Cockworth? Her name backwards spells anal for Christ’s sake.”

A version of a smile graces Daemon’s mouth, as the edge of his lips curl. “I’d definitely lead with that in your proposal,” he muses, using his finger to blend in whatever he is doing.

“Brianna is on here Daemon, and her friend Georgia, the one always trying to fuck you at parties,” I exclaim, but again his eyes don’t move from his art, not that I begrudge him that, I know how much it helps him. Instead I forget the list for a second and focus on my father instead. “Can you believe he expects me to just pick a wife, like it’s that simple, like I’m just picking what I want to eat for dinner tonight?” I continue pacing back and forth at the end of his bed, wishing the dark hole he has created here for himself could swallow me whole.

Unfortunately I am not that lucky, and as if he has direct access to my thoughts, my phone starts ringing and I spy myfather’s name flashing across it. I groan, showing Daemon the screen, who does nothing but frown and sketch even harder, and then I accept the call.

“Father,” I say in a clipped tone, seeing no point in exchanging pleasantries when I am already late.

“Have you picked someone yet?” he asks, no doubt sitting in his office with an after dinner whiskey and making his party guests wait for his big entrance. He doesn’t have to elaborate, he knows I know what he means, he’s probably been rejoicing at the fact he now has control over me after losing it for so many years.

“Yes,” I lie, hoping he doesn’t detect the dishonesty in my words, as my eyes flick back to the list in my hands. “Just narrowing down a few final details,” I add, not bothering to elaborate like I know he wishes I would.

“Well don’t take too long,” he snaps, that temper of his, one of the main things I inherited from him, teetering on the edge of release. “Our position in this society is more fragile than you think, just look at what happened with the Mayor of Black Hallows.”

I frown at the mention of Carter Fitzgerald, the infamous ex Mayor of the town just over from us. “Dad, that Mayor was a psychotic serial killer, I don’t think this is the same kind of thing.”

My father scoffs, “Yes, well, we all have our secrets, Joshua.”

When I flick my gaze to Daemon now he is watching me carefully, no doubt hearing every one of my father’s words in the otherwise silent room. Secrets, that’s what it always boils down to, doesn’t it? Secrets are what keep Daemon in this dark spiral, secrets are what got my father into office, secrets are what ruined my relationship with him, and secrets are how he almost stole my sister's future from her.

“Just stop wasting my time and pick a suitable wife or I will do it for you,” he adds, interrupting my thoughts, and I don’t respond, turning his words over and over in my head.

It doesn’t matter what I do, those words still bring me to only one solution. My eyes flick down to the list yet again, and just like they have since the moment my father gave it to me, they stop on the name on the very last line. Despite everything, Hallie is the only reasonable choice he put on that list. She is the only one on there who truly sees me, knows me, knows my family, knows what I am up against here, and will hopefully be willing to help me end all of this.

“I understand,” I finally reply in a clipped tone, this time not waiting for a response as I end the call and stare at the name of my future wife.

“It has to be Hallie,” I all but whisper, earning another grunt from Daemon. “I just have to convince her, which should be easy enough, right? We’re friends.” Daemon laughs this time. It’s subtle, but it’s definitely a laugh, and I stare him down. “What? You think she won’t agree?”

Daemon shrugs noncommittally, his pencil paused as he sighs, “She seems nice enough.” That’s it, four words, more than most people would get, yet they make me smile.

“You’re right,” I tell him, folding the list in half and shoving it into my pocket. “The choice is simple, sheisthe only choice.” None of the other women on this list could ever compare to her, they don’t share the same history as we do, regardless of how many of them I have already fucked, her excluded of course. “Thanks, Forbes, you always know just what to say.” I don’t wait for his response, leaving his room as quickly as I came with only one destination in mind.

Hallie and I might not be close anymore, but I know like me, she would do anything for Maddie. She cares about my sister just as much as I do, and I’m almost certain she isn’t seeing anyoneright now because I haven’t seen any guys around her. Not that she ever really has guys around, except for that one prick from high school who used to brag about taking her cherry until I broke his arm in two places and he finally disappeared.

Regardless, Hallie is better than any other wannabe trophy wife looking for their step up the societal ladder. She is the right choice, the sensible choice, the only choice.

I just have to get her to agree first.

The clock on my nightstand reads 7:01 pm which means I am officially late. I hate being late, it’s something I have never been good at, but after letting my parents collar me into that extra game of Pictionary, I knew it would be inevitable. If it wasn’t for me already having plans with them I probably would have lay paralyzed until it was time for the party.

It’s Thanksgiving, and as always I enjoyed a lovely home-cooked meal prepared by my father, which my mother meticulously supervised until he eventually threw her out of the kitchen. That was swiftly followed by a game of Charades, with more questionable results, and then finally, Pictionary. It’s tradition. One that was cut short this year as I needed to rush back home to get ready for the annual Peters’ Family Charity Gala. Mayor Peters throws it every year, encouraging people toopen their checkbooks for the needy, when in reality all he is trying to do is make himself look good, and as usual, I am already running late.

It was made worse when I got caught in traffic on the way home, another pet peeve of mine, but I thought I would still be able to make some of the time up if I just stuck to my usual routine of getting ready. Shower, shave, hair wash, dry hair, do makeup, finish hair, and then finally get dressed, it’s the same order I always do it in, and it helps me remain calm, even if I am running behind. Now I have my makeup done, and my hair half out of its rollers, as I step into my dress and realize it’s going to be a struggle to zip it alone.

Damn it, where is my best friend when I need her?

The only reason I attend these damn parties is for her, and she can’t even be here to help her best friend out in a dress crisis. I thought for sure she would be home by now, even though I know she is spending the holiday at the hospital with her boyfriend Nova. They are visiting his mom during her cancer treatments, but visiting hours will have come and gone by now, so I can only presume that he persuaded her into some alone time before she has to leave him. Maddie is being forced to attend her dad’s party too of course, although her father conveniently forgot to invite her new boyfriend. I scoff at the thought, imagining several ways I could make him suffer for everything he has put her through, none of them entirely legal, yet still it brings a smile to my face.

Scanning my room for my shoes, and trying and failing to fasten up my dress, and getting annoyed at how the fabric feels, I hear the doorbell ringing downstairs and curse. Who the hell could that be? Sighing, I stalk from my room, pulling out the last of my rollers as I go, and clutching my dress to keep it upright. When I am almost at the door, the person on the other side rings again, and I am ready to rip them a new one with the mood Iam currently in, but when I swing it open I find the last person I expected to see, well not until the party at least.

Josh Peters.

---