Page 49

Tonight, Tonight

“S o how’s life been treating you, Pamela?” I ask, leaning against the counter and giving her a five star smile. I know it will work; Pam was a cougar looking to prey on college boys when I was here, and that was almost ten years ago. She hasn’t aged well, and I’ll bet she’s still pulling her same tricks with any good looking rich male who has to make an appointment in the admissions office.

“Why, Edgar Boone! You haven’t aged a whit. You’ll have to tell me what’s in the water down there in Whistler’s Hollow.” Her false lashes flutter and I have to work hard to keep the cringe from showing as she leans in to give me a good view down her blouse.

“Just good, clean living, sugar. My Pop always says the secret to eternal youth is loving your job, and I love the hell out of mine.”

Yeah, I’m laying it on thick.

Mentioning the Senator is dirty pool, but I’m not above it by any means. Living at the foot of a scheming local politician who fought his way to Senator taught more before I was out of grade school than most people learn in a lifetime. Power is power and even more so when money backs it up. The key is to always keep the mask in place when dealing with those who respond to it.

As if she heard my thoughts, Pamela flutters her hand over her tanning bed chic décolletage and damn near simpers. Yes, simpers. It’s a trick Southern women have down to a science and I’ve never seen a woman anywhere else even accomplish mimicking with a modicum of authenticity. “You always were a charmer. Give your daddy my best, won’t you?”

It takes a lot not to laugh in her face. Pop couldn't care less about her ‘best’ if it’s not an election year, and that’s being kind. He doesn’t even care about MY best, for fuck’s sake. “Of course I will. The Senator adores his constituents.”

Her giggle grates on my nerves, and she leans over more, placing a hand on my arm. “Well, I suppose it’s about time you tell me how I can serve you today, you silver-tongued devil.”

I wasn’t an angel when I attended State U—in fact; I spent a lot of my time here trying to blitzkrieg my way through sorority row. Minor scandals to rebel against my parents’ expectations that I find a suitable wife and start setting the stage for my career in politics were the goal. Mother wanted to Manchurian Candidate me into Pop’s seat to ‘continue the legacy’ of Boone men in service to our country. Codewords for controlling my life so they could continue to control the state while my father golfed and slept his way through the waitstaff at the club, if you ask me.

So I made enough trouble to prevent a campaign, but not get thrown in jail.

Of course, given today’s standards, I could probably still make a run for the Supreme Court, even with the keggers and trail of bimbos.

“I’m glad you asked, Pam. I’m doing a project for the PR department in town. We have an understanding, so to speak, so he recruited me to help research at my alma mater.” The brilliant grin I give only encourages her creepy focus on me, and I feel my balls shrivel up.

It’s official—Edgar Olivier Boone III is completely off the market, and it’s all because of one annoying brat and her little dog. Younger me would stab me with a switchblade in shame.

“Ooooh! Very secretive and SO civic minded. Your daddy will be so proud. Of course I can help you, sweetie,” Pamela coos.

Must. Not. Let. Her. Keep. Saying. Daddy.

Before she can ruin my sex life for a week, I shake my head. “No, he’s not involved. Very busy going back and forth between here and D.C. This is strictly on a local level. I’d be much obliged if you could tiptoe your fingers through some files and make me copies of alumnae from the Hollow. A list of names of students and maybe some staff files?”

Her expression changes, and she looks unsure. “Those files would be confidential, Eddie. I’m not sure?—”

“I’m sure I could swing back after I’ve talked to my colleague and maybe find time for a drink? When do they let you off the chain?” I smirk, feeling like an ass internally, but knowing my reputation precedes me.

Pamela’s demeanor flips right back at my words, and she tilts her head. “Well, in that case, how could a girl say no?”

I don’t have the slightest notion of coming back here after I find the guys and Tilly, but this twit doesn’t know that. I simply turn the charm up, crossing over to the chairs across from her desk and sit down. “That would be right neighborly of you, Pam. I’ll wait here while you put that together and think about where we should go.”

She giggles again, but finally sits back down at her desk, tapping away at the keyboard with her long acrylics. I pull my phone out, hoping the others are also having success.

Bully Asshole: I feel dirty AF, but I’ve got my part handled. Check in.

Doctor Asshole: The med school didn’t turn up much, but I picked up some more info on the drug sample. The new guy here has seen it before. He transferred from Hopkins and he’s kind of a trip.

Sugarplum: Wolfie, you’ve been on everyone's phone again!

Cute Asshole: I plead the Fifth. Also, the dorms are pretty dead. The few RAs and students have little to offer except the occasional bad pickup line.

Bully Asshole: *snarl*

Irish Asshole: If that wasn’t the most adorable thing I’ve seen—I could sodding puke.

Sugarplum: Play nice, boys. I’m working my way through the tenured staff in my parents’ department. No joy yet.

Doctor Asshole: Magpie, you’re turning him into a brat. The icons on this chat alone…

Bully Asshole: Well, it’s downright flattering now that you mention it, Doc. Maybe this Sex and the City wannabe here would like to see.

Sugarplum: That’s not funny. Stop wasting time texting and get this shit done.

Uh-oh.

Tilly might fight me for control and make herself an alpha brat, but that tone is not good. She’s not playing. What the hell did I do? I switch over to the guys’ chat, frowning at the screen as I tap a new message.

BigDog: Anyone know what just happened?

Pup: You stepped in shit, that’s what.

BigBird: That was sincere, Boone. She’s pissed.

Jackass: Methinks someone hit a nerve. Didn’t you notice she’s been off since we left the house?

BigDog: She was awfully quiet on the road.

Pup: There’s something about this place bothering her and whatever it is, you triggered it.

BigBird: We should just ask her.

Jackass: Clearly, she wants to tell us. After all, hiding it is the best way to accomplish that.

BigBird: See if your cougar knows anything about her time here. If something terrible happened, it will have gotten around campus on a report.

Pup: I don’t know…

BigDog: If I don’t find out, I’ll call Thorn. He knows her from her time here—he made that very clear on his visit. Don’t forget to do the scans wherever you are.

Jackass: Aye, aye, Captain Dumbass!

Rolling my eyes, I close the chat and open the app Thorn’s bottom made. Snitch comes up and I push the green icon, holding my phone still as the bar creeps across the screen. When it comes up negative, I frown. There are a lot of computers here, and quite a few have easy access if you’re good at distracting the staff like me. Pamela left while I was texting to make copies in the file room, and I could do anything I wanted at seven different PCs if I had a reason and the skill.

There will be a lot in the dorms, and definitely in the Science building. We’ll have to split up after we finish these places to hit the business complex and the library as well. Where else would they have a lot of computers? It feels like just about anywhere these days—even the art department will have them for digital shit. It will not be easy to narrow the search parameters if we can’t find a building to point Thorn toward.

At least they figured out the fucking trail didn’t point to a phone operating system, or we’d be truly fucked.

I consider entering the group chat again and dismiss the idea. Whatever has my drugar in a snit isn’t going to get resolved over text. Like most shifters, she prefers touch and scent to help her calm, and I don’t want to trigger a random shift on campus. It would require a lot of cleanup on the Society’s part, and since most extranormals attending State U have long since emerged, they don’t have the resources here to deal with a newbie.

I’m going to wait and I hate waiting.

“Eddie, don’t you fret! I'm about halfway done. You won’t be tied up too long.”

Vomit. Pamela’s insinuation makes me gag, and calling me ‘Eddie’ only makes it worse.

The only person to ever call me that was Amy Matilda Behle herself during the five painful weeks we dated our junior year. Our parents damn near insisted on throwing us together until we gave in, and it was some of the most miserable weeks of my life. She fretted and fawned like I was a trophy, and even the douche I was in high school couldn’t deal with her. I told my mother a few choice lies about her character and not long after, I could break up with her.

Margaret Emily Boone is not the woman you want to trifle with, and Amy’s parents knew it. They backed her off faster than green grass through a goose. That was the last time they tried to wrangle me into a relationship until college, and I think my mother realized there was a severe shortage of girls in town she’d approve of.

Christ, I haven’t seen her since that phone call.

She’ll have heard about the trial. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten a phone call about my behavior or consorting with Satan's mistress or some other colorful colloquialism. She’ll never understand our living situation, and I’m going to book an appointment with her before I move in.

I’d rather stick my dick in a blender, but if I don’t clear this up, I’m concerned about what she’ll do. The girls who attacked Jolene through the newspaper have nothing on my mother. She could piss off the pope and then convince him to serve tea.

Pamela interrupts my thoughts as her high heels click across the tile. She has an enormous stack of printouts and folders, and when she slams it on the desk, my eyes widen. What happened in that file room?

“I just cannot believe that girl is here!”

This doesn’t sound good. “Uh, Pam? What’s eating you? I don’t enjoy seeing a pretty lady so upset.”

“Well, I shouldn’t tell you… it’s office gossip.”

I arch a brow. That’s Southern woman for ‘ask me again,’ and even I know it. “Pam, I am a vault of secrets. You can trust me—I am a judge, after all.”

“Just between you and me and the fence post, there’s a former student on campus and well, I’m surprised she had the guts to show her face after pitching such a hissy while she was here,” Pamela says, shaking her head. “Bless her heart. That girl wasn’t right in the head.”

Eyeing her, I work to calm the sudden attention my sides are paying to her words. Something smells wrong, and I’m sure I’m not going to like this conversation. “What happened?”

“I’m surprised you don’t remember, Eddie. It was while you were here. Jolene Whitley had a bad turn with that fiancé of hers, and we damn near had to send her to the looney bin. You know he ended up marrying that girl he dumped her for, so I’d say good riddance to bad rubbish, but she was hysterical for almost an entire semester.”

I blink. Fiancé? Looney bin? What in the actual fuck went on that I missed partying myself into oblivion?

“How did you… work it out?” I ask quietly.

“Jackson Thorn was her RA, and you know his history, so he dug her out and they got thick as thieves.” Her nose wrinkles and she sniffs as she hands me the stack of papers she compiled while she ran her mouth. “It doesn’t surprise me. His kind is always good with the crazies.”

Fury sparks in my veins and I yank my prize to my chest to keep from doing something I’d regret. My voice is low and dark as I glare at the nasty woman in front of me. “Pamela, you’re giving a sermon from the confessional. I’d think long and hard about how being ugly on the inside might inform the outside. Thanks for the files.”

Her mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ as I turn to walk away and I ignore her frantic shouts about coming back to set our date. If brains were leather, she wouldn’t have enough to saddle a June bug.

Pamela just spilled the beans on why Tilly was having an episode, and we need to figure out how to get her to tell us the story. I need to find the guys and put together a plan to help her find peace before it drives a wedge into our little family.