Heeey, people! ;) I hope you're liking this story. It's really fun to write. Thanks to MaxWaylandGrey for beta'ing and, again, congrats on finishing RS! ;) Thanks to SportyNo1 for being awesome and my friend. ;D
Review? :)
"Tonight's the night."
Jocelyn's words repeated themselves in Clary's mind like a broken record. Tonight's the night. She didn't want it to come, but she wanted it to be over with. She wanted to meet the Lightwoods, tell them it was a fucking pleasure to meet them, and get out of the damn house, back to the loneliness of her room.
She sighed. Sadly, that wasn't quite how it worked. She'd have to wear high heels and a pretty (but very uncomfortable) dress, act nice, meet old people, eventually a cute boy—and that was only a maybe. She didn't want that. She wanted to listen to her iPod all day, lie in bed, and forget everyone else existed.
Someone knocked on her door.
"The dress is here!" Dorothea, one of her servants, announced happily.
"Thank you," she said. Just because her mother didn't thank them or felt like they were worth anything meant Clary had to do the same.
"No problem." Dorothea was one of the servants Clary didn't like, but she was still polite to her, because she wasn't about to break her rule.
Clary shut the door behind her and unzipped the black bag. Sighing, she walked over to the bathroom and slipped it on. Then, she walked back to her bed. Instead of falling onto it, like she wanted to, Clary stared at her reflection on the mirror in front of her bed. Her dress was olive green, the kind of green that made her hair look alive. It had small, purple beads on the bottom. They swirled around the dress, reminding her of the wind in some ways. She smiled. The dress was pretty. It wasn't too uncomfortable, but she had to wear these really tall purple heels.
She hated those heels.
"Clary!" Jocelyn said, standing by her door. Clary forgot to lock it when she brought in the dress. She cursed at herself mentally. "You look wonderful! Where are the heels?"
"Give me a damn second, will you?" She walked over to her closet and pulled out a pair of purple high heels with beads similar to the ones her dress had. She slipped them on.
They were going to hurt like hell.
Her mother inspected her, eyeing her up and down until she found something wrong. "Take the ring off."
"No." One word, a word Clary was going to pay hell for, but she wasn't taking it off.
"I said: take it off."
"It stays on, or I don't go." Clary shrugged.
"TAKE. IT. OFF."
"NO."
"What's going on?" said Luke, standing in the doorway.
"She insists on keeping the damn nose ring on." Jocelyn threw her hands up in frustration.
"Let her keep it, then." His voice was soothing.
"She does NOT look proper with it on."
"At least she's here. She's trying," Luke said, pleading her to let it go. "Please, let's just try to have a good time." He looked at Clary, then at Jocelyn. "Please?"
Jocelyn looked into his eyes. Slowly, she nodded. When she looked at Clary, the look in her mother's eyes told her she was paying for it later.
When her mother exited the room—with a huff—Clary walked up to Luke. "Thanks. Really."
"Just try to behave tonight," he said, running a hand through his hair. It didn't have gel in it yet, but Clary suspected it'd have way too much of it later.
"I will. Thanks," she called after him, but he was already halfway down the stairs. Clary furrowed her brows, shut her door, and did her makeup and hair. It was pretty simple: curled hair, up in a bun with a few loose strands. Her makeup consisted of purple eye shadow, mascara, a bit of foundation, some reddish blush, and lip gloss. She looked good—but what did she know?
She took the small, purple purse her mother gave her the day before. Inside, she placed her iPhone, twenty bucks, the lip gloss tube, and tissues, for some reason. She snapped her purse shut, then reopened it so she could take her phone out and listen to music.
She's got all my dreams,
I've got these broken things,
And they always disagree.
But if there's one real thing,
you would choose to believe,
just don't lose your faith in me.
She's got broken things,
where her heart should be,
and I keep rolling them over in my head.
Made my voice brand new,
I give it all to you,
and I'll never speak again.
She didn't know why, but this song always made her feel like it described her life. Nobody knew her like the man in this song knew the girl he sang about, but she wished, deep down, that someone did. There was always Simon, who was getting to LA in a week. But not like this. Never like this. She closed her eyes and listened to the singer's soft voice talk about the girl.
Lord, I've been trading places,
With the ghost in me,
And it's starting to make me sick.
But if there's one real thing,
I could choose to believe,
Just a little hope would do the trick.
She's got broken things,
where her heart should be,
but I can tell there are moments,
when I'm really getting through.
Made my voice brand new,
I give it all to you,
And I'll never speak again.
She'll be in magazines,
with all her fancy things,
And all the boys will dream,
If you think this was easy,
You're wrong.
Clary listened to the boy talk about his girl; the girl whom Clary assumed stole his heart. She wondered if she'd ever steal a guy's heart, take his breath away. But she doubted it.
"Clary! We're gonna be late!" Jocelyn yelled from downstairs. Clary took her headphones out of her ears, wrapped the cord around her iPhone, and shoved it in her small purse. She heard it click shut and didn't waste any time running down the stairs.
After all, they couldn't afford being late, could they?
Clary fisted her skirt in her hands and walked down the stairs. She knew her mother and Luke would be waiting there, eyeing her over, inspecting how she looked.
"I hate the nose ring," Jocelyn muttered.
Clary shrugged at her mom, acting like she didn't give a flying fuck about her words, mostly because she didn't. Her mother went into the limousine first, then Luke, then Clary, who sat by the window, headphones on. She watched the rain fall, little droplets that connected and separated on the window. She made a story, a story that told life and death with them.
She was pathetic, and she knew it.
"We're here." Jocelyn's voice woke her up. She didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she realized her head rested against the window. She probably ruined her hair.
"Come on," Jocelyn said. "Let me see." Her mother double-checked her hair, patted it saying, "You're fine," before exiting the car, leaving Clary no choice but to follow.
The house they went to was similar to their own; chandeliers hung from the roof, all twinkling and sparkling like they owned the place. Clary smirked at the similarity.
A woman and a man she didn't recognize walked over to them. They both had black hair, both tall, beautiful.
"Welcome to the house," the woman said, kissing Jocelyn's and Luke's cheeks. Then she turned to Clary and gasped. "This must be Clary?" When Jocelyn nodded, Maryse said to Clary, "You're beautiful, darling. My name is Maryse, by the way, and this is my husband Robert." She placed an arm on his shoulder to bring him back to earth, since he seemed to be staring off into nothingness.
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you," Clary replied, a blush creeping to her cheeks.
"Nice to meet you," said the man.
"Very pleased to meet you," Maryse said, giving me a quick hug before turning around. "I'll introduce the kids later. Right now, I have to go see if everything's in order. I'm glad you could make it, Jocelyn—you and your family. Have fun!" With that, she disappeared through the crowd.
The house was full of people—hundreds of people, all chattering. The music was low enough so that they could listen to each other, but high enough to make the place classy. Clary shook her head and grabbed her mother's arm.
"I'm going to get some air," Clary announced. Without waiting for her mother's response, she set off, desperately walking through the groups of people, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.
She went to the bathroom, the first half-empty space she could find. They actually had a bathroom with more than one stall. Clary shook her head and stood in front of a mirror. The tight bun her hair was in was giving her a headache. Knowing her mother was going to kill her for it later—but still not caring enough to stop herself—she unpinned her hair carefully and let it fall naturally. The curls—more like ringlets, at least that night—looked amazing, even better, now that they were against the dress. She placed the bobby pins inside her purse, snapped it shut, and walked outside.
She decided to go find a balcony, someplace she could get some air. The exit was the only one. That wouldn't look very nice, and she knew it, but she didn't have much of a choice. She burst through the guarded exit doors and let the cool, yet humid air of the night take her away. It smelled of rain, her favorite scent.
There were marble steps laid out in front of her, and she sank into the first one, ignoring the stares of the guards. The way they stood made her realize that no one—or no one important enough—would be coming now.
But she was wrong.
"Kaelie," an angry male voice said from the distance. Clary scanned the area, looking for a person, but all she saw was two shadows. "I told you not to wear as much perfume. And you're wearing hooker heels."
"I am not," she said, huffing.
"You are," the male voice said. He spotted Clary, and that was when she saw him. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and when his golden eyes met hers, she wanted to melt into them. His hair was blonde, shaggily cut, and he had something scruffy about him, something that made him sexier. Clary bit her lip.
"That girl," he said, pointing at me, "will help."
"Me?" Clary said, barking out a laugh. "And why should I?"
"Because this is my house," the guy said simply.
"Doubtful."
"But true," he added, a smirk clearly visible on his face.
"Fine," she said, hoisting herself up. Standing up was not easy, especially when she was wearing a long dress and too-high heels. She walked down the stairs with as much grace as she could muster. "What do you want?"
"Do these shoes," Kaelie said, "look like hooker heels?" She lifted her dress slightly, revealing black pumps that did NOT, in any way, match her outfit.
Clary sighed and said, "Yeah. They do. Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."
"What's your name?" the boy's voice said from the front of the steps.
Clary smiled wickedly at him. "You'll have to find out."
/
"Are we going in or not?" Jace snapped at Kaelie once again. He knew she was going to cry, and he honestly didn't care, not really. He was being an idiot, and he knew it, but he told her what to wear—specifically told her. Wasn't picking the dress enough? He sighed loudly, took her hand, and burst inside his mansion.
Hundreds of eyes turned their way.
"This is my son, Jace," announced Maryse from beside him. How had she gotten there? "And this is his girlfriend, Kaelie."
The crowd applauded. Jace found himself looking for the redhead without a name, yet he didn't find anything. As he turned around, he caught a glimpse of red. He whirled around, dragging a very wide-eyed Kaelie with him, and there she was, the nameless girl. She wore a permanent smirk on her face every time she looked at him.
"Jace," Maryse said. "I would like to introduce you to Jocelyn Fairchild and her daughter, Clary. This is her soon-to-be husband, Luke." Jace shook hands with Luke and gave both Jocelyn and Clary a hug. When he hugged Clary, it was the weirdest thing.
"Nice meeting you," he said, and then he turned away and dragged Kaelie with him.
"What the hell is your problem?" she hissed.
"Nothing," he said through gritted teeth. He didn't know. It was something about the redhead.
"It's her," Kaelie said, and for the first time, Jace could see her brain working to find the answers, to fill in the blanks. "She's got you all worked up." Kaelie looked as betrayed as she felt. Jace tried to hide a smirk—or a grin, he didn't know which, because the whole thing was funny but he had to stay serious, for the sake of both of their sanities.
"I don't know her," Jace told her as he tried to convince himself of the same thing. He didn't know her. He had no reason to be mad or pissed or whatever the hell he was feeling. He raked a hand through his hair, waving at random people as he passed them.
"Are you sure?" Kaelie asked, but she still let herself be dragged by him. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere quiet. Somewhere lonely." Somewhere we can have sex in.
"Hurry up," she said, voice urgent, like this was all she'd been waiting for the whole time. And, for all Jace knew, it probably was.
He found a secret passageway, one that led to the basement, and locked themselves in it. He backed her up against a wall and fumbled with her dress zipper. She helped him, legs shaking, breathing urgent, and the dress was off. Jace grinned, pleased. She hadn't worn anything underneath it. Jace kneeled in front of her, running his lips up, up, up, everywhere, not missing a single space, sucking where it was required, until his lips met hers.
He took his suit off—the new one, the goddamn expensive one that Charles bought him—and threw it on the floor, still feeling her up, digging his fingers into her skin. She kept moaning and yelling his name, and eventually he had to cover her mouth with his hand while doing his work with the other. She kept undressing him until they were both backed up against a wall, naked, and just when Jace was getting inside her, when Kaelie was getting ready to scream his name, begging him to stop but never meaning it, someone knocked on the door. Kaelie opened her mouth to speak, but Jace tightened his grip on it.
"Hello?" It was her. Jace knew it. Her voice was small, like a child's, but it held a confidence that wasn't cocky, but well-deserved.
Jace's breath quickened, his heart beat faster, and Kaelie noticed. She glared at him under his grip.
"I'm coming in, you know. Whoever you are," she said. "Or maybe I'm talking to myself, finally insane."
"Get out," Jace barked before she could open the door, his voice raspy, needy. He needed to finish what he started with Kaelie.
"Jace?" Clary sounded surprised. "You could at least have sex in a bedroom. A bed is more comfortable than the floor. Or a shower." And then, before he could reply to her flabbergasting comment, she heard the clanking of her heels against the marble floor, and he knew she was gone.
How she knew Jace was having sex was beyond him, and Kaelie was even more dumfounded than he was. He shook his head, and then resumed position, but Kaelie bit his hand before he could get inside her.
"I'm not in the mood," she snapped, gathered her clothing, and went to a corner. The passageway was pretty huge, only a hallway with wide enough space. She got dressed quickly, smoothed over her hair, and opened the passageway door. He didn't hear the clanking of heels like he'd heard Clary's, which meant she was waiting for him.
Clary. He ruined the moment between Kaelie and him, but the moment didn't mean anything, so why was he so mad at her? He shook his head, finished buttoning his suit, and ran a hand through his hair before opening the door. He held out his arm for Kaelie to take. As soon as she took it, all they did was play pretend for the night as he tried to ignore Clary, the red haired girl with the nose ring—the sexy nose ring, one that he didn't notice at first. But he noticed it later, and he was trying so hard to forget it, to forget her. She was just a girl, not different from Kaelie.
He saw her a few times. They nodded at each other.
Both were playing pretend, but they were both so involved in their characters, they didn't know they were faking it.
