Ch 17: The Ball

A simple drive was exhausting. There was an air of something hanging over the night as the people and landscapes whizzed by and a growing apprehension with each mile towards the East Side. A growing nausea. An anxious tug at my tie. A refolding of cuffs.

"You look fine," Elise sighed. Startled, I glanced over at her. There was an edge to her voice, a tightness in her eyes that she kept firmly on the road. The twinge I felt was not so reassuring. The suit was a thrifty rental with a hole above the pocket. The pants were a different shade of black. Why did I care so much? I couldn't say.

"Just...nerves,"  I  mumbled, not really sure what else to say. The day had been a hollow one filled with great moments of self-loathing and trying to ascertain how exactly I had ended up with a nearly disabled left arm and under the torment of three men I had hoped to never see again. I could feel the anxiety beneath the surface ready to burst at a moment's notice. But I held. I could save the crying till I was good and alone.

Elise let out another sigh. I raised a brow. With James, the words came easy and gentle. Elise and I, on the other hand, didn't do emotion. So it was quite stressing to see that she had something to say that wasn't a bad dick joke. After another tense moment, I glanced her and muttered a peeved, "What's up?"

"The martyr schtick is getting old, man."

My head snapped from the window to her. Already, the wrinkles around her eyes and the cautious frown told me she had regretted the words. I was still in the process of registering them.

"Huh?"

After yet another cautious moment that Elise took to make a right turn, she spoke, voice hard and doubling down. "Why the hell are you putting yourself in this situation? You act like someone's holding a gun to your head. No one's forcing you to be with your exes and we have to deal with all this emotional....baggage, because you're suddenly a masochist."

I was silent for a while. My brain may have short-circuited. There was a lot to unpack. Elise, James, and Declan were not aware of the threat made against the pub. I was explicitly told not to tell. There wasn't much else to do besides agree that, yes, in fact, it was very strange that I was putting myself in situations that left me an emotionally irritable mess and that I had, on more than one occasion, taken it out on friends. Still. The implications hurt.

"Emotional baggage?" I whispered, trying my best to catch her eye. Elise flinched. "I guess I should apologize for venting to the only people I thought cared, huh?"

"Oh, for fucks Conrad sake. Y'know what I meant."

"No, I don't," I said tightly. Now she was looking at me, and I took the turn to avoid her gaze.

"Conrad, c'mon. Look, I don't know what it's like to be a delta-"

"No, you don't," I said surprisingly calmly.

"Ok! Ok, this all came out wrong-"

"Sure fucking did." We both jumped as a car horn blared. She'd made a nearly disastrous turn on red.

"Would you listen to me?! You haven't been sleeping well. You cover every single shift you probably can at the pub. For fuck's sake you looked like you were on the edge of tears trying to get ready for this damn thing!" As the car steadied onto the road and the high rises became more frequent, I tried to cool my shaky nerves. Deep breathes. She didn't know. No one knew. There was another wave of nausea threatening the lunch I'd had.

"I'm trying to get protection from Seraz's men." It came out a bit weaker than I intended. Elise shot me a stare that wasn't quite angry.

"Then call the police!" Another turn. The Melane Hotel was only a short distance away.

"James already told you about the cops!" I sure as hell hadn't meant for that to come out as a snap. Elise jumped and stared at me like I had was a ghost which was fair enough because I could feel my composure quickly deteriorating as the hotel drew ever closer.

Another, sullen, oppressive, needling silence descending upon us. Not another word escaped as she tentatively pulled up to the curb. I glanced up. Already, there was something about the building that seemed to me like it knew I would be an intruder of sorts. A vagrant. Already, the judging eyes of a thousand socialites passed through my head. What a day to feel ashamed, I thought.

As I took shaky steps out and went to close the door, Elise spoke up again, her frame hunched over the steering wheel.

"You know I only care, right? I didn't mean for it to come out...that way."

"It's whatever. Just as a hint, don't bother going into therapy. You'll save more lives that way." I slammed the door. I walked away at a steady stride, my hands clenching and unclenching in the pockets of my slacks. All the while, walking down the sidewalk, up to the "grand  gates" and through to the front desk of marble and granite I could hear myself screaming in my head; asshole, asshole, asshole. I didn't have to say that. Why did I say that?! She apologized. But she should have worded it better. She apologized. But apparently I'm just emotional baggage. But-

"And who might you be?" I jumped out of my jumbled thoughts to look down at small and skinny man with a thin mustache and a fitting sneer. Already, a cold and callous stare, and I had been barely here for a minute.

I tried to smooth over my ill-fitting suit with shaky hands. "I'm fo-for, urhem, here for the, here for Ross's, I mean, Mr. Edwards charity dri-"

"Likely," the man spat out. He was a little shrew of a gamma with a stern sneer looking ready to bite me. A red hot feeling climbed up my neck.

"If-I, if I could talk to him-"

"Ha!" A smile formed grotesquely on his face as he considered  me with some amusement. "Like I haven't heard that kind of thing from people like you all the time." I knew what he meant with the "like you" comment. It wasn't polite to say it out loud. A delta. Yes, I knew what I god-damned was you condescending little troll, I wanted to say. I didn't. Instead, I stood there looking clueless and embarrassed.

When he'd had a good laugh, he finally turned back to me and sneered. "Get out or security will kindly see you out."

Never had I meant anyone so blunt in their bigotry or so punchable. Besides Joe. My response, of course, was to continue standing there and looking like a dim-witted moron. I quickly shot a look towards the elevators. Little shrew must have noticed because I instantly felt an iron grip clamp over my shoulder. A security guard with a not so friendly looking disposition.

"Hey!" I tried to move out of his grasp but found myself being shoved forward and having to catch myself a second before face-planting. I could feel the eyes of patrons walking in, curious gazes from the nearby cafe. Home. I wanted to go home. Fuck this. Fuck them. I was going ho-

"Is there a problem here?" I glanced up at the sound of the gruff and authoritative voice. Joe, in a tailored gray suit with a blue tie and a wicked smirk, staring down at the gamma who seemed two feet smaller if that was even possible.

"No-no, Mr. Darling! We were just throwing out this vagrant-"

"This vagrant," Joe seemed ready to bear teeth. "Is our guest. Now, will you be giving us anymore trouble or...?"

Joe straightened up as the man went into a long and thorough apology. He seemed to hardly paying attention as his gaze ventured over to him. A quick glance had the security  guard  running. I tried my best not to look into his baby blues as he held out an  arm for me to hold. With a tentative grasp, I let him lead the way. It was only that I noticed how bady my hands were shaking. And the tears. I hurriedly wiped the tears away, hoping to god Joe didn't notice them.

"Try to look less mangy next time. It's hard enough you're a delta," Joe chuckled like he'd told some light-hearted joke. I stopped myself short of asking what his idea of dark humor was. Instead, I gave him a light  "fuck off" but my heart wasn't really into it. The encounter was more than I could handle, and I still had a whole night ahead of me.

I'd calmed down enough by the time we entered the ballroom. It wasn't quite as elaborate as the one from before but that was the last item on my attention list. There were men and women all around, all  alphas, betas, and omegas. "

"Don't let anyone tell you segregation is dead," I muttered. I jumped as Joe laughed. Eyes trailed us. Mostly sneers and disdain.

"Well, I guess you're a revolutionary then," Joe smirked. I didn't respond. He continued. "I clearly haven't told you much about the upper strata of society."

"No. I recall we hardly talked about much of anything unless it was for you to complain about your high-class life." I tried to slip my hand off of his arm, thinking, of course, that it would be easy but then an arm wound its way around my waist in a deadly grip. I was pulled distribly close to his side. Joe looked straight ahead as I whispered some complaints trying not to draw anymore attention to myself.

"It's old pack law," he said suddenly. I groaned. He promptly ignored me."Back when alphas used to be on the top, the leaders, the providers. The betas were their second-in-commands, their loyal followers. Omegas were...treasures. They had to be protected and hidden away. Gammas the farmers and merchants-"

"And deltas were slaves, right?" I spit out, still struggling in his iron-grip of a hold. "Yeah, I fucking get why you broke up with me, Joe. You needed a pretty omega. It's been years." I pinched his hand in one last, desperate attempt to be free but his grip was like the gordian knot; the more I tried to untangle myself, the tighter it grew.

Joe sighed as he slipped a sample from a passing servant. It was a crêpe that he offered and one I vehemently denied. The bastard had to let me go first.

"Look, there's no denying that pack is what's right. It's been that way for centuries. It's...science," Joe began.

"More like pseudo-science," I scoffed. "Has it ever occured to you that you rich assholes are miles behind the rest of society? You won't even let omegas vote in your shitty little semi-pack structures. This shit is the reason Hans had to run away! It's the reason I-" I stopped myself. No, no I was not going to have a pity party for myself. I ignored Joe's curious stare. I'm sure he would have asked me to go on if not for the sudden materialization of four omega ladies. His arm quickly unwound from my waist and just as suddenly, he was in the middle another universe, smiling and joking with the women as others slowly started making their way to the little group.  Just like old times, I thought as I was very quickly pushed to a forgotten corner. It was, however, the perfect disengagement opportunity.

With a new found haste, I speedwalked to a long table far far away from any curious gaze. Joe seemed to be popular. All the attention was on him now. I was more than grateful. I scanned the table for a suitable drink, hopefully something strong enough to get me through the night. I was dismayed to find light wine and champagne. It would have to do.

As I poured myself a tentative cup, I felt another presence next to me. Turning, I found an omega woman reaching for an appetizer. I recognized her; the same one Ross had been talking to at the first ball. She smiled up at me.

"Lilian Gallahan," she stated with a genuinely kind smile. Not that I could really tell. "And you...?"

"Conrad, er, Fitzroy," I whispered, stuffing a tense hand into my pocket. I was waiting for her to insult me but was surprised at the words that came next.

"Yes! I remember you! Ross has talked a rather fair amount about you. You took a bullet for them didn't you?"

At the reminder, I could feel a flair of imaginary pain in my shoulder. I decided against showing her the bandages and only gave a quick nod. She smiled.

"Yes, and I heard Joe and Misha are quite smitten about you, aren't they?"

I rubbed the back of my neck and shrugged. "I wouldn't say smitten. Not anymore." No. One had been faking it and the other was a chronic narcissist. Lilian frowned while I was reeling from the fact that I had so easily engaged in conversation with an omega woman who looked a hundred miles out of my league. She was all long silver dress, crystal earrings and platinum blond hair. I self-consciously covered the tiny hole above my pocket with the wine glass.

"That is unfortunate to hear. Ross hasn't told me much but..." she suddenly leaned in close. "I know how these alphas and betas can be. They think they can walk all over you and that nothing else matters. I know how it is."

I blinked, slightly taken aback. "Do you know?" I hadn't meant for it to come out as rude as it did. Lilian didn't seem to mind. She smiled a smile that  was less sympathy and pity and more camaraderie.

"I can't imagine what you deltas must go through. But us omegas..." She waved a hand around. "Arranged marriages, perfect, pretty faces, forever submissive and practically slaves to these egomaniacs. My father hasn't talked to me since I started working towards my doctorate. All paid for by me. It's the reality when you grow up in a world that still follows old pack rules."

I took a shaky sip of my drink and considered it. It was a dimension I had never thought about, what, with being a  blue-collar  kind of guy.  And it wasn't one that I cared  much for since I knew people who  could still barely pay their hospital and medication bills. Still, there was something there, a sense of understanding, maybe even a bit empathy between us. There were some who walked around like they owned the world, and they did. Then there were the rest of us, puppets on strings in their little theaters, forced to play parts we didn't want.

For the first time since meeting Lilian, I smiled. We clinked glasses and talked a bit more. The vitriol with which she spoke of when talking about politics made me think that Elise would love to meet her.

Elise. I flinched. Best not to think too much about it.

As the conversation winded down, I glanced around the room. This wasn't as bad as I was convinced it was going to be. Then, of course, I spotted them.

They were at the center of attention, the nebulas of the ballroom. Ross, Joe, Misha, and Hans. They were grouped together and their attentions split on all sides as everyone came to talk to them. I felt a little lighter noticing the smile on Hans face. It didn't help, however, watching them together. Talking and laughing. How long had they known each other? When did Joe get involved with Ross and Misha? Was Hans now with them?

I shook my head. Something nudged at the back of my mind. A memory floated up.

I could feel his eyes on me. He was definitely smirking. I ignored it this once because all I could see before me was the miles and miles of forest touched by blankets of fog sprawling every which way. There wasn't the cliche romantic sunset that happened while the alpha kissed the omega but there was something better; a gray sky and some stray clouds indicating that a light rain would soon be apparent. It was the way I liked it, sitting by the small fireplace at the bookstore and drinking black coffee in the early mornings. Better than any sunset.

"So...do I get a kiss?"

My heart flipped as our lips brushed, his, perfectly soft and mines a little chapped.

".....Conrad? Erm, Conrad?" Lilian's voice broke through the haze.  I jumped. She was looking at me with a peculiar look but I was already drawn back to them, hastily letting her know that I was completely fine. She followed my gaze. We watched as Misha whispered something to Hans. They were both drawn to the center where many couples were swaying to a slow song. When had people started dancing? More importantly, when had Hans and Misha gotten so close?

Lilian was no longer speaking but I hardly noticed. Something twisted and turned inside of me. I drew my eyes back to Ross and Joe only to find steel gray eyes staring right at me. Ross. Ross tilted his head as if to beckon me over. I turned to Lilian.

"I'm really sorry. Erm, where are the bathrooms?"

Lilian gave me a sympathetic look but I was grateful when she only pointed the way. With a bit of a hurry in my step, I was off.

It only took a little shoving before I burst through the doors into a spacious area of marble and gold.  A little excessive for a bathroom, but who was I to complain? As I did my business and began to obsessively wash my hands, thoughts zipped through my head at light speeds. Elise. Misha and Hans. Joe. The climb up Helens all those years ago. It took me a bit to realize that my heart was beating a million miles a minute. I had to get out of hear. Yes. I was leaving. They'd seen me at this insipid little gathering. They probably wouldn't even notice that I was gone.

As I hastily pushed through the doors, I found myself running into a firm chest covered by black tailored suit and black tie.

"You seem to be in an awful hurry," Ross spoke, his voice taking on a deep and husky cadence. I looked up at him and took a tentative step back.

"Just wanted to meet all the friendly faces here, y'know?" I said. At his raised eyebrow, I continued. "General rule of thumb is that if they don't deck me upon notcing my sub-gender, they're a friend."

A corner of his mouth quirked up. I was surprised to find his hand reaching out, almost in a gesture of offering. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was asking me to dance in that romantically pretentious way without words. At my  utter confusion, however, he sighed.

"Would you care to have this dance with me?"

"Huh?" I'm sure my face looked sufficiently stunned.

This time, he let out a more irritated sigh. "A dance. You know, on the dance floor. With music. And moving around."

I scoffed at his attempted sarcasm but hesitantly took his hand anyways. His palm  was warm and firm. I tried not to think about it too much.

"Isn't everybody going to go into convulsive seizures if they see you dancing with me?"

This time,  a breath out of his nose. He definitely thought I was funny.

"I am entitled to dance with whoever I want."

I didn't respond as he practically dragged my partially  unwilling self to the dance floor. I did roll  my eyes at his arrogance. Poor Hans and Lillian. They had to deal with assholes likes these on the regular. Had one wondering why homicides  weren't as common of an occurrence.

I found it a bit odd when he slipped an arm around my waist and had me put  a hand on his shoulder. My only saving grace was that we stayed at a good distance as Ross helped me to sway along to the music. Focusing on the steps was better than looking back at the millions of pairs of  eyes that were on us. The whispering leached through, however.

"I've been told you enjoy crafting figurines and statues out of wood, correct?"

I  blinked up at him, surprised by the question. "Um, yeah...I do. It's a hobby of sorts. My dad taught me and I-" I stopped. No need to share anything more than he asked. It's not like he cared, right? Instead, I asked, "How'd you know?"

Ross smiled and inclined his head to something behind me. I glanced around. Misha. He was looking directly at us from the long table with a look I couldn't decipher. I quickly turned my head around. As if this couldn't get any more bewildering.

As couples swayed around us, I finally mustered up the will to say something. "I hear you run a bookstore in Portland?"

This seemed to catch Ross by surprise. As surprised as his stoicness would allow him. We kept  a steady pace to the  music as he replied.

"It was Lilian's idea, actually. It's all hers. She didn't even get help from her family. She made me the face of it though, because the business world and marketing don't take too kindly to omega CEOs. I, however,  am taking over Thorephite Inc. I'm sure you've heard of it?"

I nodded, the cogs and wheels turning in my head. It wasn't Ross who had run Vinnie and Sammy out of business. I don't know why that changed anything. It didn't, I decided. It still hurt like a bitch, as much as I hate to admit it, whenever I saw Ross, Joe, Misha, and Hans together. It still hurt to wonder whether Joe and Misha even remembered what they left behind.

The next few minutes were quiet and even a little awkward. Ross asked me a few questions I barely heard and gave only one-word  responses to. Finally, I asked him for a break. It could have been my imagination but he almost looked like he was concerned. I moved away as soon as his arms slipped away, however, and found myself  on another trek to the bathroom.

Taking a glance behind me as I went, I saw Ross merge into the crowd. I saw Misha and Joe talking to each other in another corner. Lilian was fussing over Hans about something. I decided I'd been here long enough.

-8-

Elise didn't pick up. I called again. No answer. I called a third time. Voicemail again. Fourth time's the charm, right? Apparently not. Ok, five is a lucky number in some cultures. Ok, no, no it's not a lucky number. Six times. Nope. Seven.

By now, the chill of the cool night was getting to me. The wind nipped at me cheeks and the stragglers eyeing me didn't help to improve the mood much. My wounded arm started to itch. After the seventh call, I knew it was a lost cause. Elise would never ignore a call no matter how mad she was but apparently I'd gone too far tonight. With a shaky sigh, I called an uber.

The uber was the type of guy who could say a thousand words in a single breath and hold conversation for three people. My one-word responses would take him on a fifteen minute tangent each and don't get me started on when I asked him actual questions to be polite. The constant stream of noise was a bit maddening. All I could think about was Elise. How would I apologize? How could I even begin to apologize to one of the only people in my life who had stuck by my side? I closed my eyes.

I must have been in that strange state between sleep and wakefulness. Flames seeped into the edges of my periphery. A voice shouted something. I realized that someone was shaking my shoulder rather frantically. With a start, I woke up. To flames. Apparently the uber had been distressed enough to ask if this was the right place.

Which was fair. Because as I slowly stepped out of the car, my eyes were transfixed on the harrowing sight  before me.

The mechanic shop was up in angry flames. And there was Elise, being rushed out by paramedics.

-8-

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