Ch. 2
"Max!"
Maximilian Gray paused in the act of opening his door and turned at the sound of Eric's voice. The blond boy maneuvered his way around two freshman boys lugging a large flat-screen television into their dorm room. Max twisted the key in the lock and turned the knob at the subsequent click. He entered the room, leaving it open for Eric to enter after him. The cacophony of move-in day abruptly cut off as Eric shut the door.
"Where's Logan?" Eric asked as he stripped off his sweatshirt and draped it over the sleek leather chair in his third of the room.
"Shower, we played ball with Will and some of the guys earlier," Max replied as he pulled his towel down from around his neck and hung it over his closet door. He grabbed a grey t-shirt from a hanger and slid it over his head. "Where'd you go this morning?" He asked.
Eric clambered back into bed, and wrapped himself up in the black comforter. "Ginna's car's broke down," he said exasperatedly.
Max choked back a disbelieving laugh as he crossed the room. "Again?" He pulled out the leather chair at his desk and plopped down into it, running his hand quickly through his damp hair.
"Yeah, like an hour out from school. I should've swung home and brought Martin along, she said she only had a few things in her car, but her trunk was stuffed to the brim. My arms feel like fucking noodles," Eric groused.
"You could've woken me," Max replied nonchalantly, as he grabbed his phone and flipped it open. Eric lifted the arm he'd flung over his eyes to smirk knowingly.
"Next time you want to play hero, don't drink yourself stupid the night before. I yelled at you for two whole minutes and you didn't even move," he retorted, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it halfheartedly at his roommate.
Max raised an eyebrow as the pillow slid pathetically to a stop a good five feet away from him. "You provided the vodka, you ass. Take some responsibility."
"You chugged that all by yourself, man, I didn't hold your hand for that. I'll take credit where it's due. Although," and here Eric glowered at him, "I'm a little pissed you don't even seem to have a hangover. Logan and I drank half as much as you did, and I woke up feeling like Pogue fucking Parry was playing drums on my head."
"Karma for giving alcohol to minors, you'll burn in hell for that," Max retorted drolly, completely unsympathetic. He cleared his throat before continuing, "So Ginny's okay?"
"Yeah, she's good. I swear that girl should just hire a chauffeur or something, though, she's hell on cars," Eric's muffled voice replied from underneath his pillow.
"Are she and Mickey all moved in?" Max asked, grabbing a small bag from his desk and shoving it into his pocket.
"Yeah," came the drowsy answer. Max grinned at his roommate, and pocketing his keys, left the room. Outside, chaos reigned as a pimple-faced boy raced up and down the hall, chasing a streak of white. All around him, boys were laughing and jumping out of the way. One such leap sent a glass lamp crashing to the carpeted floor, spilling glass everywhere. Max pinched his nose in annoyance, and then reached out and grabbed the pimply boy's arm as he tried to race past.
"Hey, what the-" the boy shut his mouth comically as he stared up at the senior. All around, "oooo's" and "busted" were heard, but a quelling glare from Max silenced the hall.
"Is that a rat, Miller?" Max asked quietly.
Noah Miller flushed guiltily. "Yeah, um, it was a present from my mom." Badly-concealed snickers ricocheted across the hallway.
Max used his considerable height to his advantage as he stared down at the boy. "Get rid of it. If I see that thing running around here again, I'll deliver it to your room in a rat trap." Noah nodded jerkily, like a mannequin on a string. Max shoved him away, and then turned to the boys near the shattered lamp. "Clean that up," he ordered. As he made his way down the hall, he heard the whispers of awe and anger pick up behind him. Max couldn't care less – at least now they would stay out of his way. He yanked open the door to the girls' wing and slipped in.
The girls, as usual, were operating in much more controlled chaos. Excited chatter and shrill laughter were the dominant sounds, and the strong odor of floral perfume hung in the hallway. As Max entered, girls left and right moved out of his way with sometimes shy, sometimes overt glances, but Max ignored them as he made his way to Room 367.
The door was decorated with two obnoxiously pink nameplates shaped like seashells, reading Ginna and Mickey. Michaela's work, he thought, shaking his head at the bright silver sparkles dotting the I's in both their names. Their full names were naturally not listed, as both girls threatened physical violence at the use of their given names, though Logan seemed to be an exception in Michaela's case, for reasons obvious to even a blind man. Max rapped a quick knock on the door.
Virginia answered the door, and the sight of her sent a warm thrill down his spine. His dark-haired friend was dressed in an extra soccer jersey she'd stolen from him in sophomore year. She had a lollipop in her mouth, but at the sight of him, she gave a wordless squeak and hurled herself into his waiting arms. Max easily lifted her into the air and carried her back into the room, shutting the door with his foot. "Hi to you too, Ginna," he chuckled, releasing her, only to be tackled by a blonde blur. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a forced exhale, but he still managed to wrap his arms around her as she clung to him. "Fuck, Mickey, you should've tried out for football," he joked, ruffling her hair. She jerked out of his hold and socked him in the arm. Max winced, rubbing his arm – despite Michaela's short stature, she packed quite the punch, thanks to Logan's training.
"Jerk. Give me my present," she said waspishly, holding out her hand expectantly. Virginia passed her to open the window.
"I'm fine, and I had a great summer, thanks for asking," he drawled.
Virginia sauntered over to him, lollipop sadly missing, and clasped her hands before her. "Hi Max, I missed you a lot this summer, can I have my present please?" Her saccharine voice and ridiculously fluttering eyelashes teased a chuckle from him, and he pulled her into a side-hug.
"See, Mickey, that's how you ask for your present," he said.
Michaela huffed. "Fine. Sugar daddy, can I pretty please have my present too?" She pretended to yank down her tank top and shimmied her chest shamelessly.
"Nice show - but unfortunately, girls, your gifts aren't done yet," Max answered. "My cousin's bogged down with an order from some oil tycoon in Russia, but he promised they'd be here in a month."
Silence reigned in the room for a few moments as Virginia and Michaela mulled over his words. "He doesn't come bearing gifts," Michaela said thoughtfully.
"No, he doesn't. Should we kick him out?" Virginia answered, ducking under Max's arm and sidling up to her roommate.
"Absolutely." The two girls stalked resolutely towards him.
Max took a laughing step back and held up his hands. "Hold up, ladies, I did bring a little something to make up for it, if you want to dim the kill lights long enough to find out," he said, retrieving the bag from his pocket. It was a small fabric bag, stamped with a logo in Italian. He reached inside and fished out two silver-wrapped objects, holding them out to the girls.
"Is that chocolate?" Virginia asked skeptically, stepping closer. "Oh my god, it is. You're seriously trying to substitute chocolate for priceless jewels?" She crossed her arms peevishly.
Michaela picked one of the chocolates up and sneered at it. "Do we look like hormonal freshmen girls to you? And they're not even big chocolates – you could've made up for it by bringing really big ones. Size matters, no matter what you boys try to say to make yourselves feel better about your lack of-"
"Michaela. Shut up and try it first. Then you can try to attack my manliness, okay?" Max grabbed Virginia's hand and walked backwards with her till he came to the leather chair on her side of the room. He plopped down into it, and then tugged her into his lap, tossing the chocolate at her as she settled on his legs. Michaela shot a dubious glare his way as she unwrapped the silver foil and shoved the chocolate into her mouth. The way the expression on her face slowly melted from scorn to awe was almost Oscar-worthy.
"Wow, Max," she whispered breathlessly, "I think I love you."
"Yeah," he said smugly, "that's what I thought."
The movie had barely begun, and already Kate had conked out, unabashedly using his increasingly numb arm as a pillow. Pogue tried to shift as best he could on the bed without waking her, though with the way his girlfriend slept, he could've blown a foghorn into her ear and she still would doze peacefully on. Then again, he thought, she probably had the right idea by taking a nap – though Jurassic Park would always be on his top ten movies list, there were only so many times that he could watch it nowadays.
The same could not be said of Reid and Tyler. The two of them were avidly watching the movie, Reid sprawled in a lounge chair and Tyler half buried in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. Pogue stared at them incredulously for a moment, unsure whether to be awed or worried about their devotion to the film.
That train of thought, however, was pleasantly interrupted by the sudden soft heat of Kate's breath on his neck as she snuggled closer to him. Forgetting about the movie and his weird friends, Pogue focused instead on the pretty brunette in his arms. Kate was the exact opposite of his usual type – his last two girlfriends had been twins who were in the same girl rock-band, brash, outspoken and blatantly aware of their own sensuality.
Kate, while confident and self-assured in almost every aspect of her life, was remarkably shy about intimacy with him. It wasn't until their third date that they had their first kiss, though Pogue didn't like to count that half-second, dry peck on the lips. Those chaste kisses had continued for nearly two weeks before she'd finally had the nerve to be more daring. A significant part of Pogue, namely his southern half, initially balked at this – no girl before had waited more than three weeks to bring up sex, whereas he and Kate had barely progressed to hands under clothes a week ago. He didn't know if it was just him, or if she'd approached all her relationships this way, but three months into their relationship, he still got that sweet fizz of excitement whenever he saw her, and he was strangely beginning to like the torturously slow pace of his relationship.
The quiet strums of a rock ballad played out during a quiet moment in the movie. Pogue glanced up and saw Reid digging into his pocket. Reid pulled out his ringing phone and immediately scoffed at the name of the caller. He silenced the ringer with a frustrated motion and threw the phone aside, rubbing his hands over his face with a groan. Less than a second later, the blond boy surged out of his chair, scooped up the phone and stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind him.
The loud noise had Kate jerking awake, and her startled gaze flew around the room. "It's nothing," he rumbled, pulling her closer. But as she settled into his arms again, Pogue glanced over her head to meet Tyler's eyes, and knew the worry reflected there was the same that prickled over his skin.
Outside the dorm, Reid leaned against the wall and took a deep, steadying breath. He flicked a glance down at the phone in his hand just as the blinking light ceased. The flashing name disappeared, but he knew all too well that the calls wouldn't stop until he picked up. Better to find some privacy before the next call. Reid straightened and headed for one of the small balconies that branched off from the dorm hallways. As he reached for the doorknob, his phone vibrated again. Reid waited till he'd shut the door firmly behind him before picking up.
"Dad." He did his best to keep his tone utterly neutral.
"Reid." As ever, Isaiah Garwin's voice was brusque and direct.
"You're back," Reid said. He sat down on the lone wooden bench on the small balcony.
"Obviously. And you're at school."
Reid bit back his instinctive desire to reply with a sarcastic 'Obviously,' and instead remained silent. His palms were becoming sweaty, and he wiped them irritably on his jeans.
There was a small squeak over the line. "Did your mother pay the tuition?"
Reid felt his blood chill. He'd known, ever since he'd first decided to flout his father's orders, that Isaiah would quickly realize who was helping him. Knowing did little to prepare him for the sudden reality of facing the consequences of that disobedience.
Tracking down his mother would've been a nightmare if she hadn't given him a phone number the last time they'd been able to meet three years ago. His mother moved every few months in order to protect herself from Isaiah Garwin's grasp. With the help of his friends to cover his tracks from the watchful eyes his father had left behind, Reid was able to get up to her beachside home in Maine two days after Isaiah left on a business trip. Alice Thompson – she'd long since dropped her married name - had wholeheartedly supported him in trying to get back to school as a means to escape Isaiah, and had arranged everything within a few days. Ecstatic with his success and anticipating that Isaiah would be gone for a few weeks more, Reid had relished the chance to be himself, if only for a few stolen weeks. He hadn't expected his father to return home two weeks earlier than planned, and though part of his brain scrambled to find a cover story, he knew that trying to pass anything else but the truth was futile.
"Answer me," Isaiah said softly.
"There's no point, since you already obviously know the answer," Reid bit out.
"Interfering bitch," Isaiah cursed.
"I went to her! She only did what I asked her to do, so leave her out of this!" Panicked and enraged, his hands ached with the need to punch something.
Isaiah laughed bitterly. "How many times do I have to tell you, Reid? It's your mother's fault you're in this damn mess. If only she'd gotten pregnant before the Danvers woman, we wouldn't be stuck here. And still you run like a fucking baby to her."
"God, listen to yourself, dad. You're crazy," Reid said, disgust and desperation warring in his voice.
"Crazy?" A huff of air rattled through the phone as Isaiah chuckled. "For trying to elevate our family to its rightful place? We've been under the thumb of this damn Covenant since it started, boy, and now we're finally on the cusp of our success. I want you to get back home now, so I can train you to beat the Danvers boy to Ascension."
The extent of his father's madness made Reid want to rip his hair out. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and hissed out a breath, answering bitterly, "And why the fuck should I care about what you want?"
There was a long, ominous pause on the other side. "Fine. I was planning to visit your mother soon anyways, but now you've given me a much more compelling reason."
"You won't find her." Reid wished he could actually believe those words. His palms grew damp, and he rubbed them hard against his jeans to distract from the fine panic welling inside.
"Oh, I know she's probably moved from that cozy little house on that beach in Maine. Shame, it had a great view of the lighthouse from the living room window."
"That doesn't mean anything." His mother had mentioned she would probably be going west in her next move – would Isaiah have already found out?
"I hear New Mexico is wonderful this time of year."
Reid clenched his teeth and bit back the urge to give voice to the tidal wave of angry emotions seething under his skin. He forced himself instead to remember his mother's smiling face as she had waved goodbye to him from her front door that summer. For his mother, Reid had to try and gain some control in this mad power play between the Garwin men. He needed a plan. But more than that, he needed time to come up with a plan. And to get that time, Isaiah had to believe he had Reid in the palm of his hand.
"Fine. A truce, dad."
"A truce?" There was a note of skepticism in Isaiah's voice, but Reid knew he'd intrigued his father.
"Let me have this last semester. Let me stay until December, and then I'll come home and do whatever you want. You'll still have a year before Caleb Ascends." Even though he knew the words were a lie, they still tasted like acid spilling over his lips.
"Are you trying to buy time to stop me, boy?"
Of course Isaiah would see through the paper-thin ploy, but Reid still pressed his case. "Like you'd give me a chance. It's better for you if I don't fuck around at home trying to kill you to screw up your megalomaniac scheme."
"On that note, I suppose I should let you know that I have a sniper on your mother at all times. Every day he receives a call from me that informs him to not shoot. If he ever fails to receive that call, he'll kill her."
Ice swam through Reid's veins as he was once again reminded of the endless depths of his father's cruelty. "Fuck you."
Isaiah scoffed. "You're my blood, boy. I don't trust you not to try something stupid. Have your semester, then. After that, we'll be doing things my way." The phone beeped, and then went dead.
