Carlson Melody - Stealing Bradford

“That depends on whether she can sing or not,” said Taylor in a slightly snooty tone. She peered at Eliza. “Can you?” Eliza gave her a coy look then shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“Bradford can sing,” said Harry. “Maybe he can play the Lieutenant.” Bradford grinned and slipped his arm around Taylor now. “Yeah, I’ll be Joe Cable, and you can be my Polynesian baby.”

“And by the end of the show, you’ll be dead,” she said as she stood up.

He made a sad face. “But you’ll be crying for me.”

“When are auditions anyway?” asked Harry.

“Next week.”

“Sorry to end the party,” announced DJ when she noticed the clock. “But we’re supposed to vacate this room by ten on school nights.”

“Not that Mrs. Carter would notice,” said Taylor with a yawn. “But I’m sleepy anyway.” That seemed to break it up. Eliza and DJ saw the guys to the door, but DJ could tell that Bradford was disappointed when Taylor didn’t do the same.

“Thanks for everything,” said Conner as they went down into the yard for what she suspected would be a more private good night.

“Thanks for coming,” said DJ.

Then he leaned down and kissed her. “See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya.” She stepped away from him and went back on the porch and waved. Eliza and Harry were still standing by the Jeep. Maybe Eliza planned to stay out there all night, but DJ did not. She went into the house and closed the door. She wished she’d thought to ask Conner who’d invited them here tonight, but she felt pretty certain it was Taylor’s doing. Just one more subtle way to ensure that she was stealing Bradford from Rhiannon. Well, at least Rhiannon didn’t have to sit down there and witness the whole thing herself. That’s probably what Taylor had intended.

Then, as DJ went up the stairs, she remembered that starting tonight she was Taylor’s new roommate. Oh, what had she been thinking? Of course, she’d felt sorry for Rhiannon, but surely there could be a better way. Perhaps DJ could sleep in the library. She could sneak a sleeping bag down there, tuck it behind the couch during the day and—

“DJ,” Taylor was leaning over the railing on of the landing, “I hear that you’re my new roomie.”

DJ rolled her eyes. “Yeah, so?”

“Oh, don’t get so excited,” said Taylor. “I’m only doing this for Rhiannon.”

“Whatever you say.” Taylor didn’t seem convinced.

“I am. It seemed totally unfair for her to be stuck with you after all you’ve done to her.”

“All I’ve done to her?” Taylor shook her head. “Like I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. Whatever.”

Out of habit, DJ started to go into her own room.

“Oops,” said Taylor. “Wrong room.”

“I need to get some things.”

“You sure?” asked Taylor. “Looked to me like Rhiannon got you pretty much moved.”

“Maybe I just want to check and make sure,” said DJ. This time she knocked first and then went in.

Rhiannon was sitting on what had been DJ’s bed. And Casey was sitting across from her. It looked as if they’d been in the midst of a serious conversation. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said uncomfortably. “I just wanted to see if there was anything else to move.” She glanced around at what had been her old room. First hers alone…then hers and Casey’s. Already it felt different.

“I think I got it all, but feel free to look around,” said Rhiannon. “Casey showed me what was yours in the bathroom. We just took the last of it over.”

DJ walked around and looked, but it did seem that every trace of her had been removed from the room. “You okay with this, Casey?” she asked. “We didn’t have a chance to warn you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You snore anyway, DJ.”

“I do not.”

“You do too. Sometimes anyway.” Casey actually smiled now. “I think it was nice of you to do the switcheroo. Hopefully Taylor won’t put a hex on you in your sleep.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You going to be okay?” asked Rhiannon with concern.

DJ forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” promised Rhiannon.

“Thanks. Maybe you have a crucifix you can loan me…”

“Huh?” Rhiannon looked confused.

DJ made a cross out of her two forefingers, as if warding off a vampire or evil spirit. “You know, to keep the devil girl at bay.”

“Just scream if you need help,” said Casey. “We’ll rescue you.”

“Thanks.” Then DJ told them good night and—feeling like she was going to meet her executioner—walked into what still felt like Taylor’s room.

“Ever heard of knocking?” asked Taylor, who was sitting in the window seat and just lighting up a cigarette.

“Do you knock before you come into your own room?” demanded DJ.

Taylor shrugged then blew out a long puff of blue smoke.

“Open a window, would you?” said DJ irately.

“Afraid of a little second-hand smoke, are we?” But at least she cranked open the window behind her.

“If you had any sense you would be too. And don’t forget the rules, Taylor.”

“Glad you could make it home tonight, roomie.” Taylor was using a phony-sounding cheerful tone. “Although it’s past curfew—not that you’d forget the rules.”

DJ looked around the room and sighed. Her new home. Whoopee. She checked her side of the closet and some drawers.

“Everything in its place?”

DJ ignored Taylor as she took out her faded pajama bottoms and a tank top, her usual sleeping gear. At least Rhiannon had done a nice job of putting her things away for her. But then these rooms were outfitted fairly much the same, so she’d probably just emptied one drawer into another. Still, it was thoughtful. But then again that was Rhiannon—thoughtful.

“You’re not much fun tonight,” said Taylor. “Here I was all excited about my new roomie, and you’re acting like your grumpy old self again.”

“Look,” said DJ. She was fed up with Taylor’s endless teasing and game-playing. “It’s not like I’m thrilled to be your roommate, Taylor. But we might as well try to make the best of it.”

“Hey, that’s what I’ve been trying to do. You’re the one who keeps acting all snotty and mean to me, like you’re so much better than I am. Miss Superiority Complex.”

“Like you should talk.”

“What exactly is your problem anyway?” demanded Taylor. She snuffed out her cigarette and then stood up, putting both hands on her hips and just staring. “It’s like you’re always in a snit about something or other. Don’t you know how to let things go?”

“Not when I’m still ticked at you for stealing Bradford from Rhiannon.”

“Here we go with that stupid stealing Bradford theory again. First of all, just how does one steal a boyfriend anyway? Is that even possible? You make it sound like Bradford is some helpless victim. Don’t you think he has a choice in this? All I’ve done is be myself. I can’t help it if Bradford likes me. Can’t you get over it, DJ?”

“No, I can’t.” She shook her finger at Taylor. “Speaking of victims, tell me, Taylor, why is it okay for you to act like you’re this helpless femme fatale, and you can’t help that anything in pants falls head over heels in love with you.”

Taylor laughed, but it was a cold, harsh laugh. “Is that what you think I do?”

“You’ve said as much.”

“Yeah, right!”

“Okay then, what was up with you inviting Bradford to the movie? Then you don’t even tell anyone. And Rhiannon is so crushed when she sees him that she can’t even watch the movie. Tell me that wasn’t some really tasteless, cruel joke.”

“Me?” Taylor looked honestly indignant now. “You’re accusing me of inviting Bradford tonight?” She really was an excellent actress, and she probably would end up getting the lead part in the musical.