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“No name,” I respond automatically. “I didn’t go to school with you.”
“It’s Jenna, right? No,” he drawls. “That’s wrong. Gemma? You’re Gemma Smith.”
“Nope.”
He grins like I’ve made his fucking night. “Ezra.”
“I didn’t ask,” I say, taking a sip of my whiskey.
“I can see you wondering,” he informs me.
“I wasn’t,” I lie, rolling my eyes at myself.
“Sure.” He snorts. “So, babysitting?”
I stare at him, keeping my face carefully blank as I play into the bullshit from school to run him off. “I’m here to kill someone.”
Ezra nods. “Perfect place to get away with it.”
For a split second, shock rolls through me, and I struggle to remain an unreadable slate at his serious tone. I turn to face him, curiosity getting the better of me. He pulls a joint from his t-shirt pocket as he watches me, waiting for my response.
“I suppose it is,” I mention, glancing away from his intense stare. “An overdose wouldn’t seem all that suspicious at a party like this. I’ll have to keep my knife tucked safely away, though. Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”
“I don’t know,” he muses. “They’d probably jump to the jealous lover excuse, too fucked up to realize what they were doing was wrong.”
“Boring shit,” I remark. “What about a bad trip? Blame it on the manufacturer and the fact that the jungle room has a lifesize paper mache lion in it. The murderer thought they were being hunted, and then it was down to survival of the fittest. They sacrificed their friend, giving the poor guy a quick death, so he didn’t feel the teeth slicing through his skin.”
“I like that idea.” He puffs on his joint before offering it to me.
I wrinkle my nose as I shake my head. “I don’t smoke.”
“Just here for the public fuck and the beans, then?” Ezra teases.
“I don’t do drugs,” I comment.
Not that it matters.
I have no intentions of seeing this man again. Our worlds don’t collide, and I’m perfectly happy with that. He might enjoy superficially planning a murder, but pulling the actual trigger isn’t in his cards.
“So only the public fuck?” he continues. “You think that swig of whiskey is going to make it more fun than Kyle the Minute Man can provide?”
“I’m not looking for Kyle.”
He squints at me as he purses his lips. “Brandon?”
“Clarence.”
“Ah,” he sings. “So, you want to join a cult? Got it.”
“I’m already in a cult,” I correct, shrugging. “Silly thing, but we do love our rules.”
Ezra grins, and I remember why all the girls at school used to drool after him. He’s stupid attractive. The kind that makes you forget your name and sell your firstborn child to the devil for a night in bed with the Copeland twins. I mean, as far as I can recall, he was the more intelligent of the two. Quin was the musician, following in their father’s footsteps.
“Looking for sacrifices before the aliens come to pick you up?”
“Actually, you’re really close,” I confess. “Lizard people, not aliens... But yes, to the sacrifice. Can I offer eternal life in outer space and all the insects you can eat?”
My question causes him to inhale too deeply, coughing as he leans away to really examine me. He tosses his joint on the floor, stepping on the ember with the toe of his boot.
