All You Desire

  “Calum!” Alex exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were coming. Did you invite yourself as usual?”

  “Hello to you too, sweetie!” the first boy greeted the actress. As they hugged, he shot Haven a wink over Alex’s shoulder. “Who is this remarkable creature you have with you today?”

  “Haven Moore, this is Calum Daniels. And the strong silent type is Owen Bell.”

  “Hello,” Haven said.

  “My God! Look at this hair! I’ve never seen anything like it,” Calum raved. Haven had assumed Calum Daniels was gay, but now, with his fingers in her hair and his eyes roaming all over her body, she figured omnisexual was much closer to the mark. “Where did you find this little goddess, Alex?”

  “Let Haven sit down,” Owen said. “You’re embarrassing her.”

  “‘You’re embarrassing her.’” Calum’s impersonation of Owen’s baritone was pitch-perfect.

  “Come on, Calum,” Alex agreed. “She hasn’t had a chance to build up immunity to your bullshit yet.”

  “Oh, please. With hair like that she must be accustomed to having people ogle her,” Calum argued, but he still pulled out a chair for Haven and allowed her to sit unmolested. “So, how do you two know each other?”

  “Haven just designed an Oscars dress for me. It’s so amazing I can’t even begin to describe it.”

  “An Oscars dress?” Calum asked. “I thought you’d decided to go with Chanel this year. I wasted three hours of this life watching you try on dresses the other day!”

  “I changed my mind. You’d know why if you saw Haven’s gown.”

  “Well, I hope you charge a truckload of points, Haven,” Calum said. “Don’t let Alex cheap out on you just because you’re a newbie.”

  “Actually, I’ll be paying in cash,” Alex said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Cash?” Calum looked confused. “But why?” It was as if Haven had asked to be paid in manure.

  “Apparently Haven’s not a member of the Society,” Owen explained.

  “Oh really?” Calum’s nose wrinkled as he prissily refolded the napkin on his lap. “That’s too bad.”

  “She’s not in the OS, but she is one of us,” Alex hurried to add. “How else could a girl our age do the things she does?”

  Calum shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “And she’s friends with Adam too.”

  “Good friends?” Calum asked, his interest piqued once more. “You’re not the new lady in his life, are you? Where does a girl go to meet someone like Adam, anyway?”

  “It’s a long story,” Haven said.

  “Perfect. I’ve got plenty of time,” Calum said.

  “Leave her alone,” Owen insisted.

  “Fine. But if you’re one of us and you’re friends with Adam, why aren’t you a member of our club?”

  “I couldn’t say.” Haven hoped Calum would move on to another subject, yet it was still flattering to have someone famous making a fuss over her. She could tell he wasn’t the sort to waste his time on just anyone.

  “Don’t bother,” Alex told Calum. “I’ve already tried to tempt her. I said I’d be happy to introduce her to some of our esteemed colleagues. But the only person she wanted to meet was Mia Michalski.”

  Haven grimaced with embarrassment.

  “Who?” Calum asked.

  “Exactly,” Alex said.

  “Oh, come on, Haven,” Calum groaned. “You have to join! All the cool kids are members. And I can prove it too.” He appealed to his companions. “How about a game of ‘Spot the Snake’?”

  “I’m hungry,” Alex moaned. “Can’t we just order some food?”

  “I’m trying to make an important point, darling! Okay, I see one. Haven, in a moment I want you to turn around and take a good look at the very serious gentleman sitting two tables behind you. And I want you to pay close attention to his cuff links.”

  Haven slowly turned and peeked over her shoulder. A distinguished-looking man was signing his bill. She caught a quick look at one of his cuff links before it vanished beneath his suit sleeve. It was a platinum snake swallowing its own tail.

  “Did you see it?” Calum asked, and Haven nodded mutely. “That man runs the biggest bank in New York. And you know what’s funny? They say he hasn’t touched cash in forty years. He only deals in Society points. The woman with him is a member too. She’s responsible for all those hideous celebrity portraits you see in the magazines. I have it on good authority that she hides her snake tattoo somewhere the sun should refuse to shine. Ooh,” he interrupted himself. “There’s another. To your right, against the wall. Take a look at his tie clip.”

  Haven snuck a peek at the patron in question and swiveled back around in an instant. “That’s the mayor,” she whispered.

  “It is indeed,” said Calum, acknowledging the man with a nod.

  “Why does everyone have a snake somewhere? I thought Society membership was supposed to be secret?”

  “It is secret. Nobody knows to look for the snakes but us. And you. Besides, the mayor needs to advertise a little right now. Word has it that he used up most of his points during the last election. Anyone here need a favor? There’s a bar two doors down from my apartment. The customers have been getting rowdy while I’m trying to get my beauty sleep. And all their nasty cigarette smoke must be terrible for my skin. Maybe I’ll have him shut it down for me.”

  “You’re just upset because their bouncer carded you last week,” Owen said. “Let the other young people have their fun. You’ll be twenty-one soon enough.”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t wait two whole years. I depend on that bar for all my fresh meat. I’ll just have that bouncer fired. The owner needs me to keep the place classy. But do you see my point, Haven? Haven?”

  “Sorry. Hold on a sec,” Haven said. Her phone was ringing. She’d just fished it out of her bag when Calum snatched it out of her hands.

  “No, no, no,” he admonished her, switching the phone off and dropping it back into her bag. “Not at the dinner table, darling. Anyway , as I was saying, the members in this room alone could make sure you have everything your little heart desires. And for a pretty girl like you? Who knows? You might even get a few freebies.”

  “I don’t need their help,” Haven sniffed, annoyed by Calum’s etiquette lesson. She hadn’t recognized the number on the caller ID. But it must have been Iain, and she was dying to speak to him. “I prefer to get by on my own hard work and talent.”

  “That’s sweet,” said Calum. “But you’re awfully naive for an Eternal One. Nobody gets by in New York without a little help. It doesn’t matter if you sew the most beautiful dresses the world has ever seen if there’s no one to spread the word about you. Or give you a loan to open your first shop. Or convince the department stores to carry your line. Or get you in the pages of Vogue. You can’t do it alone, my dear. Either you accept your friends’ help or you get used to obscurity. It’s really as simple as that.”

  “Calum.” Owen tried to stop him. “That’s enough. We both know there are plenty of people who’ve managed to succeed without the Society’s help.”

  “Maybe,” Calum said. “But if they’re lucky enough to come back, they’ll certainly join us the next time around. Who would be stupid enough to turn down an invitation?”

  “I might,” Haven ventured. “I’ve heard some things about the OS that aren’t very flattering.”

  “Like what?” It was Owen this time. He seemed so genuinely concerned that Haven half expected him to whip out a pen and start taking notes.

  “I’ve heard about what some of the less fortunate members are forced to do to keep their accounts in good standing.”

  “Oh God. You heard about all that nasty stuff? That was back when Padma Singh ran the show,” Alex said. “She was a terrible president.”

  “Such a troll,” Calum agreed. “But you gotta admit—”

  “Admit what?” Alex asked.

  “That it was a lot m
ore interesting back then. It was like the Roaring Twenties or the Weimar Republic. You knew something terrible was going to happen, but it was a whole lotta fun waiting for the ship to go down.”

  “Your memory is crap,” Alex said. “You’re just pining for the days when you were Adam’s number-one boy.” For once, Calum didn’t have a quip ready. But only Haven seemed to notice the stunned look on his face. How had he fallen from Adam’s good graces?

  “Did you know Padma too?” Haven asked Owen, hoping to shift the conversation.

  “No, I never had the pleasure. I just joined last year,” Owen said.

  “Owen’s part of the new regime,” Calum explained. He’d recovered quickly. “He’s one of the people who are cleaning our little dump up.”

  “I do what I can,” Owen said, embarrassed by the sudden attention.

  “Yes, and you do it so well,” Calum said, licking his lips.

  “Okay, Calum,” Alex said with a roll of her eyes. “Owen may let you kiss his ass, but that’s the most you can hope for. Let’s talk about something else. I haven’t seen you for ages. I assume there’s a young stud somewhere who’s a little worse for wear?”

  “You’re an evil little strumpet with a diseased mind,” Calum said. “For your information, I’ve been honing my art. There’s a juicy role I’m hoping to land any day now.”

  “And you haven’t told your very best friend?” Alex asked, batting her eyelashes.

  “Why? So you can leak it to Us magazine? No thank you, Miss Harbridge. You can find out along with the rest of the world. Now.” He grabbed Haven’s hand and leaned in close. “Tell me every single thing there is to know about the fabulous Haven Moore.”

  IT WAS THREE o’clock by the time all the dishes were cleared away, the bill paid, and the handsome waiter generously tipped. Haven could barely believe she’d stayed for so long. And though she didn’t want to admit it, she’d almost enjoyed herself. Listening to Alex and Calum bicker like foul-mouthed siblings had taken her mind off her troubles. But it was Owen Bell who’d impressed her most. He hadn’t uttered more than two dozen sentences, but his each and every word had left a mark. She knew now that Iain had been right. Not everyone in the Society had started life as a terrible person. She didn’t hold out much hope for Alex—and none for Calum—but Haven prayed there was still a way to save Owen’s soul.

  “There she is!” a man shouted as the group left the restaurant. Haven blinked, blinded by the flash of cameras.

  “Alex!” yelled a man with a five o’clock shadow and a beer belly. “Give me a smile, beautiful!”

  “You’re looking good, Alex,” another man shouted. “D’you lose a couple of pounds or sumthin’?”

  “Someone tipped off the paparazzi,” Alex muttered, managing to sound annoyed even as she blew a kiss at the camera. “It wasn’t you again, was it?” she asked Calum.

  “Oh, please,” he responded. “It’s been ages since I had to resort to such tactics.”

  Together the foursome pushed their way toward the street. As Calum hailed a cab, one of the men grabbed Haven’s arm.

  “Hey! Who are you?” he demanded. “She look familiar?” he asked the colleague standing beside him.

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, she does a bit,” the other man concurred.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart? You famous?”

  “Let her go,” someone growled. Haven saw Owen barreling toward the paparazzo. He was half a head taller and twenty years younger than the out-of-shape man with the camera.

  “Okay, buddy!” Haven’s arm was released, and the paparazzo backed up with his hands held in the air. “No harm done, right?”

  “You get a picture of that girl?” Haven heard as she ducked into the taxi.

  “Yep. I know I’ve seen that hair somewhere before.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The walls, carpet, and ceiling of the corridor that led to Haven’s room at the Gramercy Gardens Hotel were all the same shade of burgundy. There was never any noise and barely any light. Traveling the fifty-five paces to her door was like coursing through the veins of an enormous beast. Whenever Haven had passed other guests in the hall, they always seemed to be moving as quickly as she. It wasn’t a place one wanted to linger. Yet Haven stopped halfway to her room the moment she remembered the call. Cursing her absentmindedness, she dug through her handbag. Her fingers brushed against a ring at the bottom before they located the phone. She switched on the device, and a message light began to blink.

  “Haven. It’s me.” Beau. Haven couldn’t breathe. She dropped to her knees as the walls seemed to pulsate. “I hope that text didn’t scare you too bad. Listen, I know I’m not supposed to call, but I just wanted you to know I’m here. Be brave and I’ll see you real soon. Okay? Love ya.”

  She instantly dialed the number from which the call had come. She lost count of the number of rings.

  “Yeah?” The voice was gruff.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to reach Beau Decker.”

  “Don’t know him. You got the right station?”

  “Station? I don’t understand. Where am I calling?”

  “It’s a gas station. This is a pay phone.”

  “A gas station? Where?”

  “Eighth Avenue and Central Park North,” the man huffed. “Look, lady, I gotta get back to work. I only answered ’cause the ringing was driving me nuts. There’s nobody named Beau here. Don’t call back.”

  He hung up.

  “Shit!” Haven shrieked, staring down at the phone. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to call Iain. No answer, no voice mail. Why had he insisted on pursuing his own plan? Why wasn’t he there when she needed him most? “Shit.” This time a whimper. She dialed a third number. There was only one person left to call.

  “Ouroboros Society.”

  “I need to speak with Adam Rosier.”

  “Certainly, Miss Moore. One moment, please.”

  “Haven?”

  The sound of his calm, concerned voice brought tears to her eyes. “Adam. Something’s happened. He called! Beau called! And I missed him!”

  Five minutes later, Haven was still slumped in a stupor on the hallway floor when Adam rushed to her rescue. She had been trawling her memories again, trying to recall a single time that Beau Decker had ever let her down. But he’d always seemed to know if Haven needed help. When two freshmen had tried to curry favor with Haven’s high school enemies by running off with her clothes as she showered after gym, Beau had appeared in the locker room with a lab coat he’d pilfered from their chemistry class. He had cinched the smock’s waist with his very own belt, creating a little white dress that almost looked chic. Then there was the day Bradley Sutton had cornered Haven in an empty classroom and attempted to kiss her. Beau had blackened both of the boy’s eyes and promised much worse if the offense were ever repeated. Those and the other scenes Haven remembered could have filled a dozen films. And yet when Beau had reached out to her for help, Haven had missed the call. She’d been out hobnobbing with silly celebrities when she should have been searching for her best friend.

  Gordon Williams and his men arrived at the hotel just moments after Adam. Haven was still too frazzled to speak. Thankfully, Adam did most of the talking while Haven sat in a corner of her room and replayed Beau’s message fifty times, trying to decipher its meaning. When her head started pounding, Haven closed her eyes and felt the fatigue wash over her. Shortly after eight o’clock, the cops finally left. Haven was already dozing on the couch when Adam bid her good night. The last thing she remembered was his promise to phone the second he heard any news. In her drowsy state, Haven had almost asked him to stay.

  IN HER DREAM, Haven was back in Snope City. She knew the day. She recognized the clothes she was wearing, the lunch on the cafeteria tray in front of her. It was a day that could still send a shiver of shame though Haven’s soul.

  She was alone. Beau had been out of school for two weeks, and for seven hours each day, H
aven was silent. No one spoke to her, and she spoke to no one. If Beau didn’t come back soon, she worried she might lose her voice all together. But she couldn’t complain. She had to wait. Beau couldn’t be rushed. Haven knew what it felt like to lose a parent, but her father had died suddenly. He hadn’t suffered the way Beau’s mother had.

  She heard the trays slam down on the table behind her. She listened to three boys gossip the way she’d imagined only girls could. It was like she wasn’t even there. Maybe, she thought, I’m not.

  “I didn’t see Decker this morning. I guess he’s gonna miss another practice,” Dewey Jones noted.

  “A couple more and Coach’ll have to name a new quarterback,” said Justin Snead.

  “Goddamm. That’d just about kill Decker’s daddy.”

  “Yeah, well, he already killed his mamma,” Bradley Sutton said. “She got sick right after she found out he was a faggot. My uncle says she must’ve died of a broken heart.”

  The rage was unlike any Haven had ever experienced. She wanted to turn around and hurl their table against a wall. Rip out Bradley’s throat with her own teeth. Kick Dewey Jones until he was just a lifeless mound of flesh. She should have defended Beau, whatever the cost. But she didn’t. She picked up her tray and walked away, angry tears blurring her vision. It was a decision she’d regret for the rest of her life.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Oh my God, is this you?” squealed the young woman being measured for a gown. She was an up-and-coming starlet whose face was plastered on movie posters all over town, but Haven couldn’t recall her name. She’d shown up at Haven’s hotel room door at the crack of dawn with a text message from Alex Harbridge on her phone and a checkbook in her hand. Haven had dragged herself out of bed, thrown on a bathrobe, and grabbed her measuring tape. The events of the previous day still cluttered her head. Beau’s bizarre call, Adam’s kindness. Haven couldn’t stop digging through details in search of some truth. A single fact she could rely on. But nothing made sense anymore.