The weather was unseasonably perfect, the food was amazing, and the company was unbeatable. It's been a long time since I had an honest to God BBQ with people my own age. Lenore is currently across Nic's lap on the sofa in the boys' downstairs rumpus room.
The room itself is as impressive as any LA bar, with white upholstered seating starting in one corner and down the sides of both walls with electric blue mood lighting coming out from beneath them. Pub tables dot the area, with a pool table in the middle covered in blue felt obviously chosen to match the lighting. A wet bar at the other end completes the look. Lexington told me that there is a club-worthy sound system in here with the lighting to match, but that will be an adventure for another day.
Brooklyn, Abrams, Lexington, and I are playing nine-ball with teams. Lex and I, versus Abrams and Brooklyn. I'm pretty decent at pool. Over the years I've found this sweet spot of inebriation that has me sinking balls left and right, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm going to need a few more beers. Lex is also a great shot, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Abrams is a shark. He's sandbagging for sure. We're not betting money or anything so I think it's more to keep the game enjoyable than something unethical.
"So," Abrams starts, leaning over the table to take the shot he called, "where's the boy toy Brookie?"
She takes a sip of her wine, leaning against the bar with an unimpressed sigh, "You know I only take my toys out of the box for a good party and put them away when I'm done. I like to keep them in mint condition."
Lexington snorted, watching the six that Abrams hit glide effortlessly into the corner pocket. "You know, sometimes spending some extra time with your… 'toys' can be beneficial for both parties, Brooklyn."
Brooklyn laughs, obviously finding humor in her brother's hesitancy to continue using her analogy. "Not all of us like to break our toys in out in the real world, Lex. It can ruin the fun."
Did this bitch just call me a toy? I keep the look of incredulity from my face, turning to glance sideways at Len. She and Nic are engaged in their own riveting rumpus room game of tonsil hockey, not even paying attention to our conversation. She's of no help. Traitor.
I turn back to see Brooklyn giving me a look of challenge, while her tone is decidedly softer. "I don't mean anything by it, Ellie. We're just joking around."
When Brooklyn got here today we were back to where we were at the casino party. All air kisses and beauty queen manners. When I introduced her to Lenore she was every bit the sorority figurehead. She asked Lenore all the right questions and definitely set off zero alarm bells. I had told Lenore all about the weird exchange during coffee yesterday so she was looking for hints of her true intentions, but Brooklyn played it like a pro.
I smile softly back to Brooklyn like her joke hasn't pissed me off one bit. Leaning down to take my shot I feel Lex slide his hands into the back pocket of my jeans. "Seven, side pocket," I called. As I'm lining up the shot Brooklyn changes the topic.
"Have you guys heard anything new about the murders?"
I scratch.
I look to Lenore to see that she has managed to detach her face from Nic's. There she is. "What about the murders?" She asks sounding clueless, like a fucking pro.
Brooklyn's eyes light up like she just can't wait to unleash some gossip causing me to cringe inwardly and brace for impact. She's going to say something bitchy about Renee, I just know it. She quickly calls, lines up, and scratches a truly horrible shot before passing her pool cue back to Abrams. She leans back against the bar again, setting her wine on the glossed wood top like she needs her hands free for this story.
"Oh my God, Lenore, it's crazy. I can't believe Ellie hasn't told you anything about it!" she gestures emphatically.
I give Lenore an apologetic shrug, which she does her best to begrudgingly accept. At this moment, I remember that Lexington had already talked about this with Lenore so we can't play that she's completely clueless. I have to add something for continuity. "Well, we did talk a little bit about the attacks. Technically only one of them was a murder. The other girl is still in a coma, right?"
"As far as I've heard, she is," she turns back to Len, "the first girl was actually pledging our sorority. It was so sad, the girls just loved her. We are pulling for her to come through. We've saved her a spot."
This is news to me and leaves me smiling. Although I'm not sure of Brooklyn's intentions I know that Renee always wanted to be a sorority girl. That's her kind of thing. I hope that Brooklyn's concern and care is sincere, but ever since last night, I'm finding her a very complicated read.
Abrams sunk two more shots before tapping into the conversation. "The second girl wasn't so lucky. She was a really sweet girl. I had her in a couple of my core classes."
"I'm sorry," Len offered. Abrams only shrugged.
"I didn't know her very well, but I've done some group projects with her. Nice girl. A bit of a loner, though. Not like Renee."
My breath catches. It's the first time I've heard anyone identify my sister by her name. I look at Abrams. "Renee? Was that the first girl?" I ask, trying to urge him into further conversation. He furrows his brow, looking pained. He clears his throat.
"Yeah, Renee was a good girl. I met her at a party the week of move-in. We were at a party together at the frat. Brad's frat. I was trying to get the balls to ask her out before the attack."
Lex tilts his head to his friend, setting his mouth in a hard line and giving a nod in condolences. The mood in the room is thick with sorrow. It is oddly comforting because I don't believe anyone in this room could possibly have anything to do with the attacks. Aside from Brooklyn's glee at having some tea to spill, she also seems genuinely saddened by the events. I don't think these people are my enemy.
I feel the tension leaving my shoulders at the realization and excuse myself to the bathroom, struggling to keep the tears in. The hallway is dark and calm, and I close the door to the bathroom just long enough to splash a little cool water on my face and have a short pep talk with myself in the mirror. My sister is a fighter. She is strong, she is amazing, and she is not going to end up a casualty in this fight. She is not going to be a plaque on the sidewalk.
I open the door to find Lex with concern painted on his face. "You ok? I know that story has a lot to take in."
I smile gently. "I'm fine. It's just sad." I feel my voice beginning to waver and Lexington pulls me into his warm arms. I can sense he has something to say, but he holds it in the same way I'm holding in my tears. Finally, he says, "If you wanna talk about it, or anything, ya know…" He trailed off leaving the sentence open for interpretation.
I know that he's not really the warm fuzzy talk about it type. Normally I'm not either, but I love my sister dearly, and feeling powerless and out of control of her situation is tearing me apart inside. I need to be able to do something. Solve something. I've been here three weeks and barely scratched the surface.
"Thank you," I offered quickly. "I appreciate that."
Lexington leans back from our embrace, slipping his finger under my chin and lifting my face to meet his gaze. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against mine, gently at first then more firmly, slipping his tongue between my lips. This kiss is far sweeter than our others, less desperate, but it still carries the same amount of passion igniting a longing in my chest. He pulls back too soon.
"Let's go wrap up this pool game, finish our beers and then we'll have dessert and kick everyone out."
Still breathless from the kiss I struggle to string my next sentence together. "Sounds good, what's dessert?"
With eyes full of heat and demand, he answers, "you."