Page 13 of Shadow Dance

His perfect face hardens. “Callum sent me up to check on you.”

“Why? He seems just fine down there.”

“You've been gone for hours.”

Have I? I glance at the window again and then at the clock beside the bed. Six o’clock. Guess I lost track of time. Shrugging, I step away, resisting the urge to wipe my tingling nose.

“Let's go down,” Jaime says, touching my arm.

I pull away, not liking the way it feels when he touches me. I’m attracted to him, and I’m pretty sure he’s attracted to me, but it doesn’t matter. These men are all the same. They speak only the languages ofviolence and commodity, leaving little room for things like love and affection.

Jaime’s beauty is irrelevant because the finest faces can hide the rottenest souls.

Thanks to delaysdue to weather not even Callum can control, we get into OAK around midnight. The airport is eerily quiet, and we make our way to baggage claim in silence, the goon squad trailing behind us.

After a small eternity, our luggage drifts lazily by on the carousel. Irrationally irritated by the perceived indignity of waiting, Callum gestures impatiently to Griffin, who easily piles our bags onto a rented cart.

“Hungry?” Callum asks. It's the first thing he’s said directly to me since we left Grand Cayman early this morning.

“No,” I murmur.

“We’ll stop somewhere,” he says, as if I haven’t spoken at all.

When Callum and I are together, we’re driven around by his cousin, bestie, and unofficial driver Griffin. I’d prefer Jaime, but he disappeared somewhere between the terminal and the parking garage. He isn't far, though. I glance at the side mirror, confirming that his car is the one right behind us.

We pull into the drive-through of a grimy twenty-four-hour fast-food place and order a ton of garbage I won’t touch. Callum will; he has the appetite and metabolism of a teenager, especially when he’s coming down. It’s not that I don’t eat. I do. I’m just more of a diner girl if we’re going to do burgers.

The smell of old grease turns my stomach, and I wish more than anything that I was riding with Jaime in his immaculate car.

“You should eat, Mae,” Callum says, thrusting a milkshake my way. I accept it, not wanting to bicker. A milkshake, I can do.

At our house high in the Hills, Griffin pulls up to the gate and jabs at the keypad. The gates sweep open, and we glide up the drive, stopping outside the front door. The housekeeper knew we were returning today, so the lights are on. When we step inside, everything will be spotless, the temperature just right, the fridge filled with food. The pool willprobably be warm, too, and I’m tempted to go for a swim, regardless of the hour. Anything to wash the grime of travel away, the grime of … everything.

Taking advantage of Callum’s disappearance into the bathroom, I change into a swimsuit and slink away to the patio. As expected, the water is like a bathtub. Groaning quietly, I ease in, grateful for small pleasures.

I alternate between swimming laps and floating, desperate to relax. I did more coke this week than I normally do, and my nose and nerves are paying the price. I know I need to stop before it becomes a real habit, because already the urge to do more tears at me from inside.

I never thought I’d be this person. My body was always my temple, and I took the utmost care of it. But a part of me died when I stopped dancing full time. Between that and the disintegration of my relationship, my life has become empty and hollow. I miss my family. I miss my city. I find myself yearning for happiness, any way I can get it. Even if it’s chemical.

But that stops now—I’d rather be miserable than miserable and coked up. I can do this. I just need a little help with the comedown.

After a hot shower and a cup of tea, I return to the bedroom I share with Callum. He’s in bed, on his laptop. Now that we’re back in the Bay Area, he’ll resume his frantically busy lifestyle, which is fine with me.

“Do you have any weed?” I ask, sitting.

He snorts indelicately, shaking his head. “You’re trying to smoke now? Go to sleep, Maeve.”

Rich, seeing as he’s indulged in way worse than weed since the moment we got home. “Yeah. So, do you have any?”

“Nope. I'll get you some tomorrow.”

That doesn’t help me now. I stand up, tightening my ponytail. “I can’t sleep if I don’t smoke. I’m going to see if Jaime has any.”

He dismisses me with a shrug, and I know, someday soon, I’ll succeed in leaving.

Even if I have to die to do it.

Jaime opens his door a sliver,his eyes glinting in the dark. He’s in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, and it occurs to me that he was sleeping.Of course he was sleeping; it's nearly four a.m.He inventories me from the sweater slipping off my shoulder to my bare feet, not noticing that I’m doing the same thing to him. He’s got a beautiful body. Beautiful skin.

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