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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Mystery Date"  "That's lame," you sneer. "Come on, I wanna see what we can find." But Keith just hangs back, even as you tackle the cabinets that hold the supplies. The first holds three masks. To your relief, the first one you pick up is Lisa's, which means Lynch must've finished whatever job he had to use it for. The second is Geoff's. The third-- Anthony Kirk? Must have been Jason's job. You tug your lip. If Lynch went to Kirk as Lisa, the conversation must have wound up being about the crisis between her and Mansfield. Your face tightens at the thought of what Lynch probably told Kirk before getting the mask of him. More messes for you to clean up, probably, when you have time. "Where's the rest of the masks," you ask aloud. "Jessica's and Eva's and Kendra's?" "I've got Jessica's," Keith says. "I'm supposed to use it to get a copy of Yumi. Caleb's probably got Eva's. Or maybe he's got Kendra's." You grunt; the cheerleaders sure are being useful, you reflect as you close the cabinet. The next door has a new lock on it, you note, and you don't have a key. The third door is the one with the combination lock. You pull idly at it, but it's latched. You run your hands over the shoddy woodwork, but it's all solid enough. There are bigger doors to bigger cabinets under the three you've been exploring, and they're open, so you squat down to look inside them. They are all empty, and you press and push at their upper boards, to see if you can get into the cabinets from underneath, but they're solidly attached. You swear and slam the doors shut. "Done?" Keith asks in a hopeful tone. "Not if you'd help," you growl, but he remains motionless. You turn to some nearby crates, but they reveal nothing but grimy equipment. After a few minutes of fruitless searching you have to concede defeat. "We could still switch," Keith says. "Nah, get that mask back on. Or, I dunno, get changed back into your own clothes and leave her mask here. I still wanna be able to tell Patterson I did Cindy." "I didn't bring any of my things," Keith says as he picks the mask back up. "But don't get the idea you're going to do me," he adds hotly. "And if you woke up with me inside you, what would you do?" you grin. Keith frowns deeply, and you wave him off. "Just get changed. I'll wait for you downstairs." * * * * * Back at your house--and changed back to yourself--you call Patterson. "How was she?" he chortles. "Nice prank you tried," you snap. "But Keith and me figured out what was going on before things got too far." He laughs. "Well, you can't blame me for trying. You still have Javits' mask with you? Tilley still has Cindy's?" You grunt. "Well, you guys will need them. I did a little listening around, and there's an afternoon party scheduled for tomorrow where you can get an Eastman player. I wangled an invite for myself and Javits and Cindy, but I'll be skipping. You and Cindy should show up. I don't need to tell you who will be playing her." "That'll make Keith happy." "Yeah, be affectionate." He gives you the time and address. "Girl's name is Kristy Carlson. I don't know her, but I heard about it through Kelsey Blankenship, and she's the connection." "Will someone be playing Kelsey?" "No, you and Tilley will be the only ones there. I'm not babysitting you guys." "Where's Jason these days?" "Being his dipshit self, as far as I can tell. He's supposed to be getting Laurent Delacroix." "I just noticed that a bunch of masks were out," you say. "If I see Eva or Jessica or Kendra at the party--" "You shouldn't," he says. "If you do, it's the real people, so be careful." "What are you going to be doing?" "Spending quality time in the fuck room," he says. "Not that it's any of your business." Only after you hang up do you realize what that means: Unless Patterson means to do something really gay with the Mansfield and Kirk masks, it'll be time with Lisa's double. You have to pound the bed hard nearly a dozen times, and even that does nothing to still your anger. * * * * * "It's too cold for a pool party," you grumble. "No one said you had to take off your shirt," Cindy says primly. "Why don't you take yours off," you retort. "I want these fuckers to see what kinda sugar cones I get to suck on and they don't." Cindy's grip on your hand tightens, and her nails dig into the back of your hand. Keith was being a bitch on the ride out, and he's being a bitch now, and he seems to be enjoying it. The two of you are laying close together on a very expensive pool chair, but the frosty chill against your skin has nothing to do with the early November weather and everything to do with his icy fury at being dragged to this thing in this guise. You look over at your "girlfriend." Her features are puffy with suppressed anger, and the breeze has disordered her hair. From this angle you can see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but she stares straight ahead rather than returning your glance. On the other side of her, in the next chair, is Kelsey Blankenship. She turns toward you, and a small, amused smile floats onto her lips. "Kelsey's listening to us," you murmur to Cindy. "So what'll she hear?" Cindy says in a voice that Kelsey can't help catching. "I don't want to cause any scenes in front of her," you hiss. "We've already got Lisa and Mansfield in trouble. We don't need to make life complicated for Seth and Cindy." Exactly the wrong argument to make. "Fuck you, Seth," Cindy screams. "I've had ... so much of your ... shit!" She jumps out of the chair, and you lurch after her in surprise. "Don't touch me! Don't ever! Touch me! Again!" She stomps off toward the main house. You can't miss the half dozen eyes that discreetly turn in your direction as you gape after her. And you can't miss it when they turn away, and several conversations resume as though they hadn't been interrupted. But that's the atmosphere at Kristy Carlson's: you and Cindy are definitely the odd members. Oh, Kristy herself has been pleasant enough, though you can tell she is rather discomfited at having to entertain people she doesn't know. The welcome didn't improve when you appeared on the extensive back porch, which was heavily populated with Eastman athletes. Ian Carpenter was polite, but he's always polite, with that pussy "good sportsmanship" attitude of his. But the others just nodded at you and made no attempt to include you. Some of the girls eyed you curiously, but when one of them, a buxom African-American girl, approached, Keith perversely (and intentionally, you're sure) smothered the side of your neck with a kiss--to let the girl know you were off-limits. That left Kelsey as the only friendly person there, and she seemed none too pleased at being the lever that pried the door open for you. "When's Steve coming?" she'd bluntly asked, and her nostrils had flared when you told her that Patterson had decided not to. And here she is, still, and even though her eyes are shaded, you can tell she's very amused. Your hands flex, and you start to get up. "Don't be an idiot," she says. "Go find her later." You throw yourself back onto the chair. "Have any good gossip, Kelsey?" you ask sarcastically. "Yes, and I'm trying to get away from it." "Glad to hear you're off duty." You glance back at the house. "We had a fight on the way out here. Just one of those things. We'll get it straightened out. Probably on the ride home." "Mm-hmm," she says. "What about you? You know any couples in trouble?" It occurs to you that she could be a prime source of information on Lisa. But again you've miscalculated. "For someone who doesn't want people to hear about his trouble, you seem pretty eager to hear about others," she says. You wince, and the cold breeze feels even chillier. You look around and rub your arm. "Yeah, well." You sigh deeply. "Maybe I should go find Cindy. Usually she does like it when I chase after her." You pick up her bag--which has the blank mask in it--and trot into the house. There are a couple of people in the kitchen, and a few more in the living room--one of the living rooms; the Carlsons seem to be very rich--and it's not until you return to the main foyer that you catch up to your companion. She's coming down the staircase, carrying herself very stiffly. "Okay, you had your fun," you say. "But we're here on a job. I helped you on yours, so why don't--" "Upstairs bathroom," she snaps. "That blonde guy is in there. Get him, and let's get out of here." "Blonde guy? You mean Straussler?" "The one you pointed out to me? Yeah." Major score. Jonathan Straussler isn't just a ball player, his family is filthy rich. "Give me ten minutes," you say, and dash past her up the stairs. You find a closed door in the hallway, and decide it must be the bathroom. You position yourself on the opposite side of the door frame; when Straussler comes out, he should turn with his back to you, and then you can grab him from behind. But then you hear voices, and from the other end of the hallway four figures emerge. One of them nods at you in greeting, and then they all disappear around a corner, to descend the staircase. Shit, that was Straussler. So who's in the bathroom? Next: "The Door Prize" |
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