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"YouareDylan's Sky?" he asks.
"I'm Sky."
"Where's Dylan?"
"I don't know."
"Oh? Are you his Sky or not?" He drains the contents of the glass he's holding and dangles his arm over the side of the chair. The glass hovers between his long, fingers; fingernails painted black.
A soft click of the door from the opposite end of the room alerts me. A tall girl wearing a short, tight silver top covering very little of her ample chest, and a skirt I'm sure is actually a belt, crosses the room. She only has eyes for the man, and positions herself on his lap.
"I'm Jem. This is Jacinta. All the Js."
Jacinta turns her head as if only noticing I'm in the room. Her eyes are vacant; she's somewhere else. Drugs? I shiver, and my thoughts must be apparent because Jem gives a sardonic grin.
"You can have some of what she's having?" he asks.
"No thanks."
"I meant champagne. Do you like champagne?"
I shake my head, not wanting to stay in this room. Jacinta slides her hand up and down Jem's thigh, and he pulls her sleek black hair to one side and kisses her neck.
"Get Sky a drink, babe," he says and shifts so Jacinta has to move.
She stands and he slaps her backside as she walks away. If I thought Dylan was an arrogant wanker when I met him, he had nothing on this guy.
"I'm okay." I hold up the sandwich. "I'm going to eat this and—“
"Sit down, then." He stands and strides over.
His request is more a demand. I'm pissed off with my inability to retort to this guy. He scares me and now he's close, the smell of whisky surrounds him, and his edginess disturbs me further. I'm convinced that if I try to leave the room, he'll follow. Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ears, and I jerk at his touch.
"Dylan's summer Sky..."
Run. Get out. Leave the house. This guy's intentions aren't good. Something's wrong—something I don't understand. To evade him, I bump my backside onto the white leather sofa behind. He keeps close, and sits on the glass coffee table opposite.
"Tell me, Sky, was Dylan always your favourite Blue Phoenix guy?"
"I didn't know who you were before a couple of weeks ago."
Jem's glazed eyes widen, and then he frowns. "Oh, really? You too?"
"What?"
The plate is balanced on my knee, and I stare down at the sandwich. I don't know what he's doing or why, but I hope to hell Jacinta comes back soon.
"And Dylan believed you?"
"Why wouldn't he?"
Jem shifts closer, knee touching mine, and he places a hand on my thigh. In ordinary circumstances, I'd give him a mouthful and stomp out of the room but my brain has locked my body into fear. Why?
"Do you know we used to share girls?"
"Okay!" I say loudly, and stand. The plate drops to the floor.
"Sometimes, we'd swap," he continues. "Like, if he met a girl first but I wanted her, we'd trade. We keep tally and he owes me big time." Jem’s laugh sounds unnatural—he's definitely high.
