Sure enough, James was on a ladder, attaching large swaths of cloth to the ceiling. “This place doesn’t have a lot of walls,” Dee replied. “He’s decided the best they can do is curtain off that far corner, put in a mattress and storage, and Riley can sleep there for now.”
James wobbled atop the ladder and Riley rushed to grab one of its legs.
“Wow,” said Gremma. “It’s like watching the world’s crappiest home improvement show.” She spotted the bottle of champagne sitting on the coffee table. There were four plastic red cups—Dee’s was untouched.
“A toast,” James had said, “to new housemates.”
Gremma took Dee’s cup without having to ask if she would drink it; Gremma knew her. She drained it in a few gulps. “So is this going to be weird?” she asked. “Your boyfriend living with another girl?”
Dee made a face. “I’m not sure which part of that statement I disagree most with. That you think James is my boyfriend, or that you think if he were my boyfriend he would be so easily swayed by another girl, or that Riley would steal my boyfriend. Which he isn’t,” she added hastily.
Gremma gave her a flat look. “You kissed him. I saw you in the car.”
“That was on the cheek.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
“He’s nice.”
“He painted you.” Gremma crossed her arms. “If that’s not interest, I don’t know what is. And you want to jump him.”
“What makes you say that?” said Dee.
Gremma looked away. “Because you trusted him with your secrets long before you trusted me.”
Dee opened her mouth, but only silence emerged. It—it was true. She had trusted James first. And part of her wanted to claim it was only solidarity, that both of them having no heart drew them together. They faced life-or-death situations together; that was sure to forge a bond.
But she hadn’t felt that way about Cal or Cora. She’d liked Cal well enough and she was wary of Cora—but James—James was—
She looked at him. He was still on that ladder, arms lifted above his head, trying to attach the curtain to the ceiling. The gesture lifted his shirt, exposed a sliver of skin along his stomach. She had one of those thoughts that simply comes to a person with no warning—what might it be like to see him without the shirt?
Oh, hell.
She did want to jump him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning her attention back to Gremma. “It’s nothing personal. I nevernottrusted you.”
Some of Gremma’s hurt seemed to slide away. “No, I get it.” She chewed on the edge of the plastic cup. “Some secrets you keep all tangled up in yourself, so tight that to pull them out is physically painful.”
And that was it. Dee had bound so much of herself up in the appearance of normalcy, hoping the mask would someday turn into the real thing.
Or maybe everyone felt this way—caught up in their own demons, trying to put on a good face for everyone else.
Riley came over, sat on the opposite couch. Even sweaty, with rumpled hair and no makeup, she was still beautiful. Between Riley and Gremma, Dee felt the tiniest bit frumpy.
“Have you heard from Cora?” called James. He was descending from the ladder, stepping back to survey his work.
“No,” said Dee. “I figure… well. She’s probably pissed at us.”
“Would the demon really have hurt her?” Riley asked.
“Daemon,” said Dee and James in unison.
“Call him the Daemon,” said Dee.
Riley’s nose crinkled. “Why?”
“Because Agathodaemon is a bit of a mouthful,” said James, unrolling the mattress. “And the one time I tried to call him Aggie, he talked about ripping out my liver.”
