Twisted Palace

  20

  Ella

  Say what you will about Jordan, but the girl has a serious work ethic. For the rest of the week, I’m forced to endure twice-a-day dance practices—one in the morning and one after school. And although we’re practicing on the same field and in the same gym as the football team, I don’t have time to even look at Reed, let alone talk to him.

  To make matters worse, I only have three days to learn the routines that these girls have been performing for months. Jordan pushes me so hard that my limbs feel like jelly by the time I get home every night. Reed makes fun of me because every time we talk on the phone, I’m icing a different part of my body. Steve thinks it’s great, though. He keeps telling me how proud he is to see me throwing myself into this extracurricular stuff.

  If he knew the real reason I was working so hard, he’d probably have a heart attack.

  On Friday morning, we have our last official practice before tonight’s game. One of the girls—Hailey—pulls me aside when we’re done and whispers, “You’re such an amazing dancer. I hope you stay on the team after Layla gets better.”

  The compliment makes me blush with pride—on the inside. On the surface, I answer with a careless shrug. “I doubt it. I don’t think Jordan can stand to be around me any more than absolutely necessary.”

  “Well, Jordan’s an idiot,” Hailey murmurs with a grin.

  I try to stifle a snort, but it ends up popping out anyway. The sound draws frowns from Rachel Cohen and Shea Montgomery, Savannah’s older sister.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Shea asks suspiciously.

  Hailey just smiles and says, “Nothing.”

  Okay, I like this girl. She’s not Val, but she’s cooler than I thought. So are most of the other girls. These past three days I’ve learned that Jordan’s mean-girl control only really applies to Shea, Rachel, and Abby, Reed’s ex-girlfriend. Abby’s not on the team, thankfully, but she comes by to watch the practices sometimes, which is super uncomfortable.

  I don’t like Abby, and not just because she’s Reed’s ex. The girl is too passive. She walks around like the eternal victim, wearing this sad doe-eyed look and talking in a soft whisper. Sometimes I think it’s all an act and that deep down she’s got claws to rival Jordan’s.

  In the center of the blue mats strewn on the floor, Jordan claps her hands, the loud sound bouncing off the gym walls. “The bus leaves at five,” she announces. “If you’re late, we leave without you.” She gives me a pointed look.

  Ha. Like I’m going to be late. I plan on being there early just to make sure the bus doesn’t zoom away without me on it. I’m kind of worried that this sudden show of niceness on Jordan’s part isn’t real, that she doesn’t want a favor from me at all and is planning some horrible humiliation for tonight.

  I’m going to take my chances, though. With the way Steve is constantly keeping tabs on me, this is my only opportunity to be alone with Reed.

  “I’ll see you later,” Hailey tells me as we walk out of the girls’ locker room ten minutes later.

  I wave goodbye and head outside to the parking lot, where Reed is waiting beside my car. His SUV is parked in the next space. I wish I was still living with the Royals and we were driving home together, but I’ll take whatever stolen moments with him that I can get.

  He pulls me into his arms the moment I approach. “You looked so hot out there,” he rasps in my ear. “I love those little dance shorts.”

  A shiver shimmies up my spine. “You looked hot, too.”

  “Liar. You didn’t even look my way once. Jordan was standing over you like a drill sergeant.”

  “I was looking at you in spirit,” I answer solemnly.

  He snickers, then bends down to kiss me. “I still can’t believe Steve is letting you stay overnight.”

  “Me neither,” I admit. A pang of worry hits me. “What did you tell Callum about where you’re staying tonight? He doesn’t suspect you’ll be at the hotel, right?”

  “If he does, he hasn’t said anything.” Reed shrugs. “I told him East and I are crashing at Wade’s. That we don’t want to drive home drunk because we’ll probably be pounding booze at the after party.”

  I frown. “He’s actually cool with you going out drinking? After that whole speech about keeping your nose clean?”

  Another shrug. “As long as I'm not fighting, I don’t think he cares what I do. Look, about the sex thing—”

  I give him an irritated look. “You said you were waiting until I was ready. Well, I’m ready. The only way we’re not having sex is if you don’t want it.”

  He returns my irritated stare with a frustrated one. “You know I’m dying for it.”

  “Great. We’re on the same page.” I push up on my tiptoes and give him a cheery kiss.

  Reed’s arm tightens around me and then I feel the tension leave him in a rush. He’s on board. Oh, thank God. I was expecting him to put up more of a fight, try to be all honorable again.

  My fake cheeriness morphs into real delight. “I’ve gotta go. Steve wants us to have an early dinner before the bus leaves.”

  Reed smacks my butt as I walk around the side of the car. “I’ll see you later,” he calls out.

  I turn to smile at him. “You know it.”

  * * *

  The football game is in a town called Gibson, a two-hour drive from Bayview. I was really hoping I’d get to drive up with Val, but as Jordan not-so-nicely told me, “The dance team travels together—no exceptions.” So Val’s driving my car while I bus it with the team.

  But even though I was dreading being stuck on a bus for two hours with Jordan and her cronies, the ride ends up being surprisingly fun.

  “I still can’t believe you were actually a stripper,” Hailey says from the window seat. She insisted that we sit together, and I didn’t put up much of a fight. “I can’t imagine taking off all my clothes in front of strangers. I’m too shy.”

  My cheeks grow hot. “I didn’t take it all off. The club where I worked wasn’t a full-nudity place. Just a G-string and pasties.”

  “Still. I’d be way too self-conscious. Was it fun?”

  Not at all. “It wasn’t terrible. The money was decent and the tips were great.”

  Jordan makes a derisive sound from across the aisle. “Yeah, I’m sure all those dollar bills stuffed down your panties added up to, what, twenty whole dollars?”

  I bristle. “Twenty bucks is a lot of money when you’re working to support yourself,” I shoot back.

  She bats her eyelashes. “Well, at least these days you’re rolling in the dough. I bet Reed pays as high as a hundred for your services.”

  I flip up my middle finger but don’t bother with a retort. I’m not going to let this catty girl ruin my good mood. I’m finally out from under Steve’s watchful eye and about to spend the night with my boyfriend. Jordan can suck it.

  To my disbelief, some other girl sticks up for me. “Ha! Reed doesn’t pay her a dime,” the brunette—I think her name is Madeline—says from the seat behind me. “That boy is freaking in love with a capital L-O-V-E. You should see the way he stares at Ella during lunch.”

  I blush again. I thought I was the only one who noticed that Reed’s intense gaze is always on me.

  “How sweet,” Jordan says dryly. “The killer and the stripper love each other. It’s like a Lifetime movie.”

  “Reed didn’t kill anyone,” another girl pipes up, her tone as dry as Jordan’s. “We all know that.”

  My head swivels toward her in shock. Does she seriously believe that, or is she being sarcastic?

  “Yeah,” someone else agrees. “He probably didn’t.”

  “And even if he did,” the first one says, waggling her eyebrows, “who the fuck cares? Bad boys are hot.”

  “Killers are killers,” Jordan sneers, but I notice that some of the venom has left her voice. Her expression is almost…thoughtful.

  Fortunately, the conversation ends because we arrive at our
destination. The bus pulls into the parking lot behind Gibson High School, and we all climb off with our gym bags. I’m the only one who’s also carrying an overnight bag.

  I squeal when I notice a familiar car parked across the lot. “You beat us!” I yell to Val, who hops off the hood and meets me halfway.

  She throws her arms around me in a hug. “Your car is built for speed, babe. I had so much fun letting it loose on the highway. Do you have time to pop over to the hotel before warm-ups? I want to give you something.”

  “Hold on. Let me ask Satan.”

  Val snickers as I hurry over to the crowd of girls and tap Jordan on the shoulder. Technically Coach Kelly is the one in charge of the team, but I learned pretty quickly that it’s on paper only. Jordan calls all the shots here.

  She turns around with an annoyed look. “What?” she snaps.

  “When do we warm up?” I ask. “Val and I are staying in town overnight and we just wanted to drop off our stuff at the hotel.”

  Jordan makes a big show of checking the time on her phone, but then she heaves a sigh. “Fine. But be back by seven-thirty. The game starts at eight.”

  “Yes, sir.” I give her a mock salute and dart back to Val.

  It only takes three minutes to drive from the high school to the hotel. It’s a sprawling, three-story building with tiny patios on the ground-floor rooms and balconies on the upper floors. It looks clean, and Val and I researched it online and determined that the area is completely safe.

  We check in at the front desk and then climb the stairs to our third-floor room and deposit our bags on the beige carpet. I take out my phone and find a text from Reed saying the football team arrived an hour ago and is warming up soon.

  “I should head back,” I say regretfully, watching as Val plops down on one of the double beds.

  “Not yet. First you have to open this!”

  She unzips her backpack and removes a striped pink bag with the words Victoria’s Secret emblazoned on the front.

  A groan slips out. “What did you do?” I accuse.

  She smiles broadly. “What any good wingman does. I’m making sure my friend gets laid tonight.”

  Curiosity has me reaching for the gift bag. I sift through the pink tissue paper and find a matching bra and panty set in my size, though I have no clue how Val knows my exact cup size. The demi bra is ivory-colored, with thin straps, pretty scalloped lace, and hardly any padding. The underwear matches it, a teeny scrap of ivory lace that makes me blush.

  “Oh my God. When did you get this?”

  “After school today. I got my aunt to drop me off at the mall.”

  The thought of Mrs. Carrington accompanying Val to purchase lingerie for me makes my face go pale.

  Val is quick to assure me. “Don’t worry, she dropped me off and left. I took an Uber home.” She beams at me. “Do you like?”

  “I love,” I confess, running my fingers over the lacy edge of the bra. My throat tightens suddenly. I’ve never had a real friend before and now it seems like I won the friend lottery. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me later,” she says with a grin. “Reed is going to lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

  My cheeks heat up again.

  “By the way, I expect details. It’s in the best friend code.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I roll my eyes and tuck the naughty items back in the bag. “But it works both ways, you know. I expect details, too.”

  “Details about what?”

  “You and Wade.”

  Her smile fades. “There is no me and Wade.”

  “Yeah?” I raise one eyebrow. “Then why did you drive three hours to watch him play football?”

  She huffs in outrage. “I didn’t come here for him. I came for you!”

  “Uh-huh, even though I’m not even going to see you tonight because I’ll be with Reed?”

  Val scowls. “Someone needs to have your back at the game. What if Jordan tries something?”

  My lips twitch. “We both know I can handle Jordan. So why don’t you just admit it? You came for Wade.”

  “It’s the first matchup of the playoffs, and it’s an away game,” she grumbles. “Astor Park needs all the support it can get.”

  I burst out laughing. “Oh, now you have school spirit? God, Val, you’re such a terrible liar.”

  She flips me the bird. “You know what? I don’t like you right now.” But she’s laughing as she says it.

  “That’s okay,” I answer sweetly. “You can fill your liking quota with Wade, because, um, we both know you do.”

  That gets me a pillow to the head. I catch it easily, then toss it back to Val. “I’m just teasing you,” I assure her. “If you like Wade, great. If you don’t, also great. I support you in everything you do.”

  Her tone softens, and there’s a crack in her voice as she says, “Thank you.”

  21

  Ella

  Even as I warm up with the other girls, I’m still expecting some sort of ambush. My wary gaze darts toward Jordan after each stretch and exercise I complete, but she seems focused on her own stretches. Maybe this is legit? I mean, I practiced with these girls all week, and I didn’t get so much as a hint that they might be up to something. I’m praying that nobody is going to throw a bucket of pig’s blood on me when I’m in the middle of a tumbling routine.

  As Hailey and I head for the bench to rehydrate, she leans in closer and whispers, “There are, like, a hundred girls staring at you right now.”

  I frown and follow her gaze. Sure enough, there are a lot of female eyes on me. Male ones, too, because of the booty shorts and crop top I’m wearing. But the girls aren’t checking me out—they’re all looking at me in…envy?

  It doesn’t make sense to me at first, but when I pass a group of jersey-wearing girls in the front row, the pieces suddenly slide together.

  “That’s his girlfriend!” one hisses loud enough for me to overhear.

  “She’s so pretty,” her friend whispers back, sounding sincere rather than catty.

  “She’s lucky, more like it,” the first one responds. “I’d die to go out with Reed Royal.”

  This is about Reed? Wow. I guess that girl on the bus was right—bad boys do have major appeal. I glance at the away bench, where Reed is sitting with Easton, then at the stands, and realize that a ton of girls are looking covetously at Reed.

  Jordan sidles up to me. “Quit eye-fucking your boyfriend,” she mutters. “We’re going on soon.”

  I glance over at her. “I’m pretty sure every chick in this stadium is doing the same thing. I guess it’s every girl’s fantasy to hook up with a murder suspect?”

  My nemesis snorts in amusement, then slaps a hand over her mouth as if she realizes what she’d done. I’m kind of surprised, too, since Jordan and I aren’t exactly joking-around friends. Or friends, period.

  The non-toxic exchange must have freaked Jordan out, because she suddenly snarls at me. “Your shorts are riding up. I can see half your ass. Fix yourself up, will you?”

  I fight a grin as she stalks off, because we both know the industrial double-stick tape on my ass means my shorts haven’t moved an inch. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way—instead of shooting insults and antagonizing Jordan, maybe I should be extra sweet and friendly. That would drive her insane.

  I turn toward the bleachers again in search of Val. When I spot her a few rows behind the away bench, I give her a happy wave. She waves back and then shouts, “Break a leg!”

  Grinning, I rejoin the team and bounce up and down on my heels a little, mentally preparing myself for the routine. I think I have it down pat, but hopefully I don’t forget all the moves once the spotlight is on me.

  Since it’s the first playoffs game, the pre-show is ridiculously extravagant. There’s a drum line routine punctuated by fire shooting out of big pillars on either side of the field and a short display of fireworks. The Gibson High cheerleaders put on a routine that involves a lot of but
t-shaking and hip-swaying, causing all the guys in the stands to jump to their feet and whistle and catcall. Then it’s our turn. The girls and I run onto the field. I catch Reed’s eye as I get in position next to Hailey.

  He gives me a thumbs up, which I return with a huge grin.

  The music starts, and we’re off.

  All my nerves disappear the moment the beat injects into my bloodstream. I nail every spin and turn. I kill it on the short tumbling routine that I do side by side with Hailey. Adrenaline sizzles inside me, my heart racing in excitement as the fast-paced dance routine draws deafening cheers from the crowd. The team moves in perfect precision, and when we finally wrap up, we get a standing ovation.

  Now I get why Astor Park has won all those national championships. These girls are talented. And although this started off as just a way for me to attend this game, I can’t lie—I’m kind of proud to have been a part of this performance.

  Even Jordan is in an ecstatic mood. Her cheeks glow as she hugs and high-fives her teammates—including me. Yep, she actually gives me a high-five, and it’s genuine. I guess hell must have frozen over.

  Any thoughts of murder and verdicts and prison are relegated to the very back of my head. No one else seems to be bothered by it, either.

  After we clear the field, there’s some discussion with the refs and the coaches, a coin toss, and then the game gets underway. The Riders’ offense is up first, and my eyes follow Wade as he jogs onto the field. He’s a tall guy, but for some reason he looks even bigger in his uniform and with his helmet on.

  On the first play, Wade throws a short pass to a receiver with the name Blackwood on his jersey. Blackwood catches the ball, but then there’s a long, boring halt as the refs try to decide if he gained enough yards for a new set of downs—Hailey helped me with some of the lingo on the bus ride up here when she found out how little I knew about the game. A little man darts out and measures the distance from the ball to the line, then holds up his hands and makes a signal I don’t understand. Hailey and I didn’t cover hand signals.