Hourglass (Hourglass #1)

Hourglass (Hourglass #1) Page 3

Lily’d been my best friend since the day we met in third grade. She’s always accepted me for who I am, whatever that involves. I do the same for her. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Thomas she was the only reason going back to school in Ivy Springs would be okay.

Lily and her grandmother lived in the apartment above their restaurant. Using the back entrance, I let myself in. I found her in the middle of her living room, stretching her long legs into a Pilates pose. It looked painful. I preferred to run—put in the earbuds and go, keeping my eyes focused on the ground and trying not to run through anybody—or to spar. I needed to find the nearest karate studio. Earning my brown belt before I left Arizona made me hungry to train for my black. And as a side benefit, ass kicking can be very relaxing.

“Hey, did you decide what you were wearing tonight?” I asked when she twisted her body in my direction.

“Don’t be mad.”

“If you aren’t going, it’s too late. I’m already mad.”

“Please?” She dropped to her knees and held her hands together like an orphan begging for more porridge. “I got called in to a night shoot. Some cavern wants stills for their Web site.”

Lily works a camera as easily as some people work a toaster. Her talent had snagged her a summer job as an assistant to one of the Appalachians’ most successful nature photographers. “Tell me you know I wouldn’t bail if I thought I could get out of it and keep my job.”

I rolled my eyes. “I know you wouldn’t bail if you thought you could get out of it and keep your job.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Lily scooted across the room on her knees to wrap her arms around me in a hug. “Oh, look at that, I’m practically your height now.”

Laughing, I gave her a shove in the direction of her exercise mat and went to her room to put my stuff down, laying the dress my sister-in-law had coerced me into wearing on Lily’s bed along with shoes, purse, and jewelry. Dru had given me very specific instructions about how to put it all together. Sometimes she made me feel like I wasn’t capable of dressing myself. I am; it’s just that I’ve always been a minimalist. And accessories confuse me.

While Lily finished her contortions, I took a shower, then used her computer to do a quick Internet search on the Hourglass. I liked to be prepared when it came to my brother and his parade of physicians, therapists, and witch doctors, but aside from an assortment of shopping results and one particularly embarrassing link to a strip club, I got nothing. I didn’t have time to look extensively because I knew Thomas would kill me if I wasn’t on time.

Dru really did have exquisite taste. The black velvet dress had a ruched waist, three-quarter length fitted sleeves, and a short skirt that swung like a bell when I walked. Assuming I would be able to walk once I put on my shoes. They were killer. I don’t mean they looked good, even though they did. I mean, they were really high and pointy, and although I’m not clumsy, they were potentially lethal both to me and anyone in my general vicinity.

Lily came into the room fresh from her workout—or not so fresh if you were standing downwind—just as I blotted my dark red lipstick.

“You look dramatic and mysterious,” she said, sucking in her cheeks and fluttering her lashes, much like Scarlett had earlier this afternoon. “I like to see you live up to your potential.”

“Wow, that’s high praise coming from you.”

She crossed her eyes and started messing with my hair.

A classic beauty with skin the color of caramel, Lily’s the kind of girl who causes men to run into street signs and trip over chairs because they’re too busy looking at her to walk. If she didn’t have a wicked sense of humor and more loyalty than a Saint Bernard, I would probably hate her on principle alone. I felt for the necklace Dru had sent with the dress, sure I’d put it on, while Lily pulled and twisted pieces of hair around my face.

“The necklace is still on the dresser,” Lily said, not taking her eyes away from me. “Your earrings are in the bag on the bed.”

I smacked her hands away. “How do you always know where to find things? And are you sure you can’t go? You could meet the boy of your dreams.”

“There’s not a boy alive like the one in my dreams,” she muttered, glancing toward the dresser before reaching out to fiddle with another wayward strand of hair. “All the rest are too much trouble.”

“Well, if he were alive, he wouldn’t be able to get past the smell. Hit the showers.” I smacked her playfully on the backside. “I don’t want to absorb your stink.”

She laughed and left the room in an exaggerated runway walk, but stuck her head back around the doorframe to flash her killer smile. “You really do look gorgeous. Try not to hurt yourself in those shoes.”

I turned to assess the finished product in the mirror. After spraying myself with my favorite perfume, a light lilac scent with a hint of vanilla, I scooped up my wrap and purse. I was almost out the door when I remembered my umbrella. It didn’t color coordinate. Maybe they wouldn’t let me in.

Chapter 3

No such luck.

When I entered the Phone Company, I got two thumbs up from Dru and an obnoxious catcall from my brother. After explaining that I was flying solo, I politely said hello to all the “important people” as Thomas introduced me, the images of their faces erased by the glare from more sequins, beading, and diamonds than should ever be allowed on a human who isn’t walking the red carpet. As soon as I could get away, I hid behind the jazz trio, practically under the spiral staircase near the bar, sipping on some kind of sparkling fruit juice and trying to blend into the wall. Watching the show.

And I had slipped out of the killer shoes.

I’d always leaned toward the shy side but was never unsocial until I started seeing visions of people from the past. It’s a really strange existence, not knowing if the person you’re talking to is physically there or not. Not knowing if you’re one hallucination away from a psychotic break. Once I began having visions on a regular basis, I would watch to see if someone wasn’t getting any attention, which was a big clue that that person might not actually be there. Of course, I usually ended up feeling sorry for those people and talked to them anyway. Although I made sure no one was watching.

Just in case.

A long time ago I’d decided against popping the people I saw like balloons. Sticking my hand out into what looked like a person, only to meet thin air … it had to freak them out as much as it did me. I tried to leave the visions alone, unless I had to walk through them.

At least things had been normal so far tonight. I was beginning to relax when I saw a young guy standing by the back patio doors at the other end of the room. His broad shoulders showed off a very well-cut black tux, which looked amazing on him but was unfortunate for me. Sizing him up, I ran through the usual checklist of details that helped me determine if someone was alive or not. First was clothing style. Black tie was way harder for me than street clothes. It was called classic for a reason, and he was as classic as they came.

His black hair was on the longish side—no help there either. Casually sexy, but no definitive style. I focused on his face. Clean shaven, but I’d bet his five o’clock shadow was heavy. Wickedly arched eyebrows accented long-lidded dark eyes. Olive skin suggested Mediterranean ancestors, and his defined cheekbones were congruous with the angles of his face. The exception was his very full mouth. His lips disturbed me.