Her Titans by Genevieve Jasper
Quincy
5
They haven’t noticed she’s at the bar, or they’d have questioned me further. I only just recognise her from the photo Atlas forced us all to memorise. You could tell she was gorgeous in that, but in real life, she practically glows. I slide in next to her as she looks to see who’s coming to chat her up next. Her full lips are already parted, probably to brush me off, but she stops when she sees me and they tilt into a reluctant smile instead. She’s only a few inches shorter than me in her heels and I don’t see any recognition in her eyes, but maybe she’s a brilliant actress. The Vipers probably train them young. I smile at her in return, ready to dance with the devil.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure, thank you,” she replies easily, not at all surprised by my abruptness. It’s not a shock to me that she probably gets that offer a lot.
“You’re welcome.” I am nothing if not polite, whether or not this woman is a temptress spy. “What are you drinking?”
“Surprise me?” she asks, handing me the menu. “The new cocktails all look amazing.”
Challenge accepted. I take the menu in one hand and stick the other out for her to shake.
“My name’s Quincy, what’s yours?” Time to get the information.
She looks quizzically at my outstretched hand before smiling and taking it in hers with a shake. “Madelaine.” Now Lai makes more sense.
“Nice to meet you, Madelaine.”
“Likewise, Quincy.” I like the feel of her name in my mouth almost as much as I like hearing mine from hers. No one ever calls me Quincy. I’m not even sure why I introduced myself with it; I’m normally Quinn or Quince.
The bartender comes over and I find I don’t want to let go of her hand. I reluctantly let go and point to a cocktail. “And a mocktail version, please,” I add.
“No alcohol for you?”
“I’m designated driver tonight,” I say with a grimace. “I’m sure I’ll get another chance.”
“Yeah? Do you come here often?”
“Not really, but it looks great now it’s reopened.” I keep to myself that the only other time I’ve stepped foot in this place, it was completely gutted and had a bomb sitting in the middle of it.
She gives me a weirdly proud look, which I can’t quite decipher. Atlas said she was here all the time before, maybe she’s pleased it’s officially cool now that it’s not such a shit-hole.
“What is it that you do?” she asks conversationally when I continue staring at her. I’d planned to charm her into spilling something useful on my way up here, but now it’s like my brain is blank. A fully grown man, tongue-tied by a pretty girl. Okay, stunning girl, but still fairly pathetic on my part.
“Finance,” I answer succinctly. “And you?”
Before she can respond, a woman taps her on the arm from behind, and she turns slightly.
“We’re ready to go, Lai. What about you?”
“Okay. Atlas is here, so I’ll grab a lift home with him. Do you want me to walk you out to Coze?”
“No, I’m good. Security is insane tonight, I’ll be fine,” her friend replies while rifling through her bag. It’s about the size of an envelope, how she’s lost anything in there, I’m not sure. She finally locates a key and hands it to Madelaine.
“Nice to meet you, Quincy,” Madelaine says, getting ready to leave the bar and happy to end the night now that her friend’s not staying. At that moment, the bartender puts our drinks down in front of us. She gives me an awkward look, then turns to the stranger on her other side.
“Here, I just got this, but I’m leaving. It’s come straight from the bartender, it’s good,” she reassures her and the girl thanks her profusely.
“It’s the thought that counts, right?” she asks, before pushing onto her toes and pecking me on the cheek, rendering me speechless. “Thank you.” She flashes me a coy smile and follows her friend into the crowd. I watch them hug goodbye, then Madelaine heads over to where Max and Atlas are sitting. I head to the exit to wait for them out by the car, knowing Atlas will leave straight away now that she’s ready. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later they all head out together, and she slows when she sees me standing next to the Hummer.
“Quincy,” she says with a glare, her eyes colder than they were at the bar. “Another minder for me, Atlas?”
“Something like that, Madelaine.” I nod my head to her, not in a massive hurry to warm her up to him.
“Madelaine?” he asks, looking between us. “How did he get your name?”
“He asked,” she says simply. She jumps into the passenger seat before anyone can object or get her door for her. She gives me an address and then spends most of the ride quiet. Her attention remains engrossed in her phone until we’re not that far from her destination.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” she asks without taking her eyes off her phone.
I’m surprised at how restrained Atlas has been so far, but he’s clearly over that now that she’s invited the conversation. “Do you live alone?” he demands, like a creep. Madelaine must think the same because her fingers pause over the screen.
“Why, are you planning on breaking in?”
“Answer the question.” She remains quiet, and it’s clear she’s going to do the opposite of that. Brave woman, taunting one of us.
Atlas sighs, clearly knowing what she’s waiting for. “Answer the question please, Madelaine,” he says with an edge to his tone.
“Yes,” she says with a slight smirk that he thankfully can’t see from his seat behind her. Her determination to provoke him amuses me and I have to stop myself from smiling at her.
“You sure about that?” he presses.
“Yes,” she says, clearly done with this topic and going back to text.
“Who’s Connor?” Atlas asks, not letting it drop.
“How would I know?”
“He owns the property you live in.”
With this revelation, she forgets the phone and whips around in her seat. “What the fuck? What’s this about?”
“It’s about you living with a man in his house when you claim to be single,” Atlas says, temper flaring, as I park opposite said house.
“First, I don’t claim to be anything. I don’t remember you stopping to ask me questions before you impaled me on that monster cock of yours. Second, my living arrangements are none of your business.” She spins back around but freezes with her hand on the door handle as we all notice the flames in the background of her house. She stays rigid in her seat for a long moment, staring transfixed at the flickering light and shadows. Suddenly, she comes to and jumps out of the car with a gasp, rushing across the road and up the front steps of her home. She fumbles with the lock then speeds inside without shutting the front door behind her.
We’re all out after her, curious about her haste, and follow into the house moments after her. It’s weirdly bland and impersonal for such a vivacious person, but I don’t have much time to look around as she rushes through the house and straight back out the patio doors.
“Fucking hell, Madelaine. Weren’t you born with survival instincts?” Atlas calls after her. She ignores him, crossing the huge back garden and letting herself through a gate in the fence that separates her property from the one currently on fire. As she rushes through, a police officer spins and catches her as she tries to pass him. He clutches her around the waist as she flails wildly, struggling to get free.
“Hey, lady. Calm down,” he shouts to her, but she’s not listening. The guy is not that big and is clearly struggling to contain the wild woman. With a pointed look at his hands around her waist from Atlas, he hurriedly lets him take hold of her. His eyes widen as he recognises Atlas and looks behind him, taking in all three of us, but wisely chooses not to say anything.
“Get the fuck off me,” Madelaine screams. “That’s my house!”
“What?!” Now is clearly not the time to be asking her questions, but I have so many. I knew she was hiding shit! Why not give a guy you’ve fucked multiple times your name? Now it’s obvious she didn’t want to be found. It can’t be a coincidence that her secret boyfriend lives behind her, but why have your fuck-buddy drop you at his house? We need so many answers. Atlas sees Madelaine is in no state to be explaining herself and tries to get some sense of the situation instead.
“What happened?” he asks the police officer. There are more people milling around, some pointedly not looking in our direction, but no firefighters yet so the fire rages out of control with black smoke billowing into the sky.
“Neighbours say it came out of nowhere,” he shouts back, his voice loud enough to be heard over the crackling of wood and the roar of the flames. “The first thing they knew was an explosion which we think was the car, and by the time they looked the entire house had gone up. Seems to have caught everything within minutes.” He directs all of this at Atlas, which enrages Madelaine even further.
“Why are you talking to him? This is my house!” The police officer looks to Atlas, who nods, which makes Madelaine huff. The police officer explains that they’re assuming an accelerant had been used because of the speed of the fire, so deliberate arson is likely. Madelaine stops fighting in Atlas’s arms and visibly deflates, looking suddenly very vulnerable and young.
“Can you come to the station and give a statement?” the police officer asks.
“Not now,” Atlas barks, but she doesn’t even appear to be listening and surprisingly doesn’t object to him answering for her. Now that she’s subdued, he lets her go to swap cards with the officer. The sound of sirens is growing closer when Madelaine turns and walks back through the gate, her arms wrapped around herself in comfort and her face hidden by a cascade of hair. We follow her and Atlas takes the keys, staying behind to lock up the doors as Max and I follow her to the Hummer. She leans against the door, watching the dancing orange flames for a moment until she lets her head fall back and closes her eyes. I take the opportunity while she’s oblivious to take in her face. She is stunning, that can’t be denied. Long, fluttery eyelashes, full pillowed lips, glowing caramel skin. She’s doing a pretty good job of playing the part of the dejected homeless girl, but I’ve been with too many women putting on the act of a loving girlfriend to believe everything they show us. Footsteps approach as Atlas walks towards us, stopping right in front of her. His eyes search her face.
“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, just shrugs and he grabs her hand, tugging her into his arms. They stay like that for a while, a shockingly intimate moment between them, until he leans into the passenger door to pull it open and guide her into the car. She gets in silently and he clicks her seatbelt, bending to pick up her phone that must have been dropped into the stairwell in her rush to get to her house.
We all jump in after her, the stench of smoke following us and filling the car, and I pull out just as her phone vibrates in her hand. She stares at it as it rings out. When it immediately starts up again and the screen flashes Lia, Atlas reaches forward to take it from her. I turn up the music as Atlas explains the recent events to who I’m assuming is her friend from the bar, and since I haven’t received any different instructions, we head home.