Burning Moth

Chapter Nine, Part Three - Your Turn

The next day, in between classes, instead of having lunch in the campus cafeteria, I took a cab to the country club. I hadn't been back since the night I crashed the Dixon's gala, but my return wasn't nearly as overdue as the phone call from my mother–but I wasn't there to make good. It was close to two in the afternoon, right around the time the woman who gave me life and nothing more gulped golden martinis as she baked herself in the sauna.

And no, I was never invited.

After giving my name to the cute guy at the desk, he offered a massage on the house and six free hours of tee time. I told him to throw in a yacht and we'd have a deal. I popped by the steam rooms afterwards but didn't find my mother–just a few other boozy women who sneered at me the same.

It wasn't like I wanted to ask my mother for help, but that was what it had come to. If there was anyone with the information to help me get Jacob out of my life for good, it was her. After all, she was still married to Jake's dad–that charming guy who put his own son in jail right before kicking his step-daughter's ass to the curb. And my mother literally stood behind him, doing what she did best... absolutely nothing. But for once, my mother's selfishness might come in handy. If I could ever track her down.

Just as I was making my way to the exit, Cute Guy from the Desk stopped me, with a smile and an alcoholic beverage.

"Uh, thanks, tiger--but I didn't order this," I replied, accepting the glass of white wine just the same.

"You didn't have to." His smile stretched even wider, accenting the cutest little dimples I'd ever seen. "You're one of our Gold Members, Miss Holloway. If I can offer you any other... services, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Troy," I muttered, smirking as I watched my new admirer take his leave. I turned back around, studying all the pretty bubbles in my wine glass. The royal treatment was nice, it made me feel like royalty, the evil Queen of Hearts...

I took a delicate sip, looking up to see that someone else was considering me.

"His little Farfallina..." Forget the goosebumps on my arms, that voice could raise the dead. Graham Dixon dragged out each syllable of every word, the same way he would have had me dragged from the country club if he'd had the power. There was no mistaking the contempt in his voice.

The feeling was mutual.

I turned on my heel, greeting him with a cold smile. "Excuse me?" I replied, blinking like I'd never seen him.

"That's what my brother calls you, right--Farfallina. Do you know what that means?"

"No, I don't. And as stimulating as I find this conversation, I have to be back in class. It was really nice seeing you though... Keep practicing that swing."

I strolled past Graham, dropping the wooden smile as soon as I had my back to him.

"It means 'little butterfly' in Italian," he said. My steps slowed, until my own sick curiosity forced me to stop and face him. Graham was looking down at the tennis racket in his hands, sliding his fingers along its curved edges. "It was what our Grandmother used to call our mother," he said, looking up. "Of course, that was before she stopped speaking. The doctors say it was the stroke, but... I think the old bird just hates us."

"Hmm--I couldn't imagine why."

When Graham laughed, he sounded exactly like his brother. "I would introduce myself, but I'm sure the memory of our first meeting has stayed with you. I know it stayed with me... Scarlet."

I squeezed my fingers around the empty wineglass, keeping the mask steady so the fear didn't show through. A stranger passing by would've heard him and assumed he was flirting. I knew better. Those pretty blue eyes of his were the billboard for danger.