Chapter #29Bands, Plans, and Parties by: Seuzz   But it still seems like a risk worth taking, so when you meet Caleb and Keith at Blackwell's on Saturday afternoon, you lead them through your reasoning. Caleb, naturally, grasps the implications right away, but Keith takes a little longer to understand. At the end, though, he also nods approvingly. "These things could be really useful," he says enthusiastically. "I've been thinking I kinda got the short straw on this deal."
"How do you mean?"
"You're only letting us have five masks, right?" he says. "Two of mine are already stuck on golems. Myself and Will, I mean. That leaves me only three to use on people who count."
"Way to have a high opinion of me," you grumble. "And of yourself."
"You know what I mean. Seth makes three. That leaves me with only two masks to use, on Gordon and Chelsea."
"There is nothing wrong with those two," Caleb says. "Why are you complaining?"
"I'm just sayin' that with these anime whatchamacallits, I can have more. Like, I'm supposed to hit this party tonight over at Kendra's. She's been making eyes at me," he adds, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. "She knows a good thing when she sees it. Anyway, with these things, bam!, I can add her to the group."
"You wouldn't be able to switch into her."
"No loss," he shrugs. "Why would I wanna give myself a blow job?"
"That's the point," you say, grinding your teeth a little. "She wouldn't be a slave. She'd be just like you would be, if you were inside her. Would you give Seth a blow job?"
"Of course not! I--" He stops and frowns. "Oh, shit!"
"Exactly," Caleb says. "Will is right. These things should only be used temporarily, to secure control of person of interest, and only briefly."
"And I don't want any copies of myself, even temporarily," you say. "So I suggest we make up six of these things, three of each of you." You point to your compatriots. "Keith gets two of his, Caleb gets two of his, and I get one of each of you."
Caleb mulls this a while, then gives his approval; Keith looks unhappy, but acquiesces. Following that, Caleb fetches supplies from upstairs, and you make up five more of them, and use one to unlock the next spell.
* * * * *
You don't tackle that spell right away, for the afternoon has worn on in the meantime, and you have to get ready for tonight. Back at home, you dress in dark jeans and socks and loafers; a white t-shirt and a red denim shirt that you tuck back above your wrists. You shave and clip your nails and carefully brush your short hair down, and end by tucking the two anima bands into your pocket after snapping your watch onto your wrist.
* * * * *
The party is being held at the house of Alyssa Randal, one of the Eastman cheerleaders. It's a large house on an expansive lot in one of the tonier parts of town, and there are already a lot of cars parked out front when you arrive. The door is answered by Alyssa herself, a dark-skinned African-American with a shapely body squeezed tightly inside jeans and a brightly colored, floral-patterned top. "The man of hour," she exclaims, and slips an arm around your torso as she leads you in. "Hey guys," she calls over the gently murmuring beat of light pop music. "Patterson's here!"
"Patterson!" "Steve!" "Yoo!" Ian Carpenter, Eastman's team captain, strides up with upraised palm. You slap it and turn it into a hearty handclasp. "Nice to see you someplace decent for a change," he says. You smile back lazily, and he turns to gesture at a few others. "You know Shawn and Brett, right?" They're two more of the Eastman squad. "The others will dribble in eventually."
"Is Straussler showing up with that tan of his?"
Ian laughs. "He'll be along at some point. If you're nice to him he might invite you up to his ski lodge over Christmas."
"I'll kick his ass if he doesn't," you chuckle. Jonathan Straussler's parents are loaded--as in hundreds of millions of dollars--and Patterson's native envy flares up within you. Oh, yeah, he'll invite you up there. Or, more accurately, you'll invite Patterson after you've made Straussler into one of your mobile homes. "What are you drinking?"
"Wine coolers," Alyssa says. "We also have pop."
"A cooler would taste real sweet," you smile, hiding your disappointment that there won't be beer. You catch a subtle change on Ian's face, and his eyes twinkle as he winks at you. So maybe there will be beer ...
You slowly make the rounds, carefully listening to and noting each name and the face it goes with, less because you're keen to know them than because you want to remember who is who for when it becomes time to pick a vehicle or two. The girls all gaze up raptly at you; most of them flush with pleasure and embarrassment, and you smile indulgently back at them. But you notice that it's Alyssa who can't keep her hands off you. With a light touch to your shoulder, or elbow, or back--and once to your ass--she guides you from corner to corner before bringing you to a halt behind a buffet table spread with fancy cheeses and crackers and little meats and spiced vegetables and rices. It amuses you to see her spread a number of these items onto a broad leaf of Romaine lettuce and wrap them up into a little bundle, which she holds up to your mouth. You take it in directly, and she lets her fingers rest momentarily between your teeth and lips before withdrawing it with a sharp smile.
* * * * *
"Who's the best guy on the Eastman team?" So asks Kyle Lakewood, who isn't a basketball player, but captains Eastman's first-rate soccer squad.
You're saved from having to make a decision by Jenny Taylor, his girlfriend. "No, who's the best guy who's not currently on the team?"
"Easy," you reply. "Me. Technically, I don't start until next Monday."
"I'm the best," says a blonde kid, jumping into the conversation. "If you're asking about Eastman guys not on the team."
"Ignore Karter," Jenny says. "He's just sore because he didn't make his tryout."
"Karter's right," Kyle says. The kid grins until Kyle adds, "Except he's only the best of a bad lot. All the good players are already on the team." Karter raises a middle finger, which only elicits good-natured laughs.
"Where are the Durras boys," you ask, craning your neck as you gaze over the tops of the heads of the crowd. "I've heard good things about 'em, but haven't seen 'em in action."
"Frank and Joe?" Alyssa asks. "They said they might show up, but they had some kind of business that might keep them away."
"Posers," Karter mutters.
"You've been in a bad mood ever since they showed up," Jenny says, somewhat waspishly. "All the girls stopped hanging on you and started going for Joe."
"Blonde twerp," Karter says, somewhat sourly.
Kyle laughs. "That's what he calls you."
"If I want my ego punctured I'll hang around Yves. Speaking of which, is she showing up?"
"I think she sneered something about a 'testosterone sauna' when I asked her," Alyssa says. "I took that as a no."
"It's pretty civilized in here," you observe. "It needs beer."
The uncomfortable silence that ensues tells you that you've made a mistake. But it rebounds to your benefit when Alyssa tucks her arm again in yours and tugs. "Come on, some more people have showed up. You should mingle."
She leads you past a few newcomers, but firmly guides you into a back bedroom. "Actually, we do have something a little stronger," she murmurs as she leads you up to a cabinet. "Me and Ian were going to save it until most everyone else had left, but I don't want you to be unhappy." She opens the cabinet, revealing a small and very expensive looking bottle. "Just one for right now, if you can't wait." She sounds disappointed.
"Actually, I was hoping for something else." You put an arm around her waist and draw her close. Her eyebrows cock expectantly. But instead of leaning forward for a kiss, you raise your free hand and press a band onto her forehead.
She weakens without sagging completely, and her breath becomes sharp and shallow. Then she stiffens and glances around. Slowly, she puts fingertips softly to her face. A slow grin spreads, and then she looks up at you with a sardonic smile. "Oh, very nice."
"Who am I talking to?"
"Alyssa Randal, of course," she replies. "But when it's just the two of us you can call me Caleb Johansson."
"Then I've still got Keith in my pocket. Do I need to put him in play tonight?"
She ponders your question as she pours a small tumbler of the Scotch and hands it to you. It is very smoky and very smooth as it slides warmly down your gullet. "Depends on how fast you wanna move. You have any masks ready to go?" You shake your head. "Then maybe you better give it to me. I know everyone worth knowing."
That raises the other possibility: Alyssa, it appears, is a perfect vehicle to use yourself.  | Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
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