Bane (Sinners of Saint Book 5)

by L.J. Shen

  I shook my head. “She was when she changed the will. And her medical staff knows it.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Ryan screamed, still tucked snug in his chair. Kacey wiggled a threatening finger in my face, leaning close. “I heard all about you, Jesse Carter. I know you came from the slums. If you think you can cheat your way into my family fortune…”

  “I don’t want the money,” I said wryly, because I didn’t. I didn’t care about anyone’s money. The correlation between having money and being happy seemed to have the opposite effect. As far as I was aware, the most miserable people I knew were filthy rich. And maybe it was because of my complete lack of interest in money that everyone around me was so eager to throw it at me. Darren and Juliette seemed to have that in common. “I want you to take responsibility for the person who gave all of herself to raise you.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Ryan huffed.

  “I want her to move in with Kacey, because I know her apartment is big enough.” I turned from the woman in front of me and continued. “And you, Ryan, should take two weekends a month to drive down to New York and spend time with your mom. Let her see her grandchildren. And I want Imane and her nurse to move to New York with her. They already said yes.”

  They stared at me like I was the devil. To them, maybe I was. I was tired of people not owning up to what they needed to do, and that included myself. It was time for a change. It was time to stop sitting on the sidelines of my life, watching it pass. “I’m also happy to give up every single penny Mrs. Belfort wants to give me—I have only known her for about two years, since…” It doesn’t matter, I tried to tell myself, only it did. I needed to start looking reality in the eye if I wanted to truly face it. “Since I went through something that changed my entire perspective about people and how you should treat them. I will give up all the money, reserving a very small budget for myself.”

  Ryan snorted, shaking his head. “Of course.”

  I continued, raising my voice. “A small budget that will go toward visiting her every other month, to make sure that she is happy with you guys.”

  Stunned silence fell over the room. They looked at each other with such exasperation, I thought they were going to say no. And then what? The thought of moving in with Mrs. B occurred to me. But I wanted to put some space between Pam and me. Besides, Mrs. B didn’t need me. She needed her family.

  “I never realized things were that bad.” Kacey’s gaze dropped to her folded hands on the table. She sat back down, seemingly humbled by arguing with a twenty-year-old over her mother’s fortune. “I mean, I would talk to her on the phone a few times every month and usually she’d talk like my dad was still alive. I didn’t know she had any idea what was going on.”

  “She does.” I sniffed, scrapping an invisible stain from the table.

  “Does she still go to the maze?” Ryan interrupted, his voice no longer hostile, although still edgy.

  I shook my head. “I go there now.”

  “That’s where they fell in love,” Kacey commented, and my heart skipped a beat at her words. It was where I’d fallen in love, too. “My dad and her. This mansion belonged to his family. She was the gardener’s daughter. He used to go there all the time. That’s where they met. That’s where they fell in love.” Kacey took a shaky breath, a tear rolling down her cheek. “That’s where I was conceived, and that’s why we are all here.”

  I have no regrets. I loved fully, I remembered Mrs. Belfort saying.

  I smiled to myself. “She is the best company I’ve had in years.”

  Ryan stood up and looked at his sister, who did the same. Something passed between them I couldn’t interpret. They asked for an hour, which I was happy to give them. I spent the time sitting at the dining table, alone, thinking about everything and nothing.

  After an hour, Kacey sauntered back into the room. Alone. She looked like she’d been crying. I wished I had a brother to hold me when I did.

  “Yes. We will take her,” she nodded curtly. “I’ll make the arrangements ASAP.”

  I sucked in a greedy breath, realizing I’d been holding it for who knows how long.

  One pin down.

  Just a few more to go.

  I hurried to my Range Rover like my butt was on fire. Mainly, I wanted to get to Roman as soon as I could and have this conversation that hung over my head. I light-jogged to my vehicle when I heard the familiar sound of Darren’s Mercedes locking. I tried to slip into the driver’s side, but then I heard his voice booming from behind the palm trees dividing the two mansions. “Jethy!”

  I froze for a second. No matter how mad I was at Pam, Darren didn’t deserve my wrath. I owed him at least an acknowledgment. I turned around from my door, plastering a patient smile on my face.

  “Hey, Darren. I was actually just about to leave.”

  Darren rushed over to where I was standing, and I inwardly groaned. I really wanted to get to Roman as soon as possible.

  “I need to talk to you, thweetie.”

  “Now’s not a good time.” I turned around, swinging my door open again.

  “It’s about your boyfriend.”

  I paused, my back still to him. He had my attention, though, and he knew it.

  “I was hoping we could do it thomewhere elth. Maybe Mayra’th offith?”

  Driving all the way downtown to have a talk with me? Why couldn’t he do it at the house? Because whatever it is, Pam doesn’t know. A terrible feeling came over me.

  Why would Darren have a key to Mayra’s office, anyway? Just how close were they?

  I’m missing a chunk from my memory.

  No, you’re not.

  “Darren, I want to leave.”

  I want to leave.

  He gripped my arm and turned me around. It wasn’t violent and it wasn’t hurtful. What it was, was familiar. And it shouldn’t have been.

  “Jethy,” this time it was a growl.

  “What do you want?” I barked. A miserable feeling of a lack of self-control came over me. This felt dangerous. I wanted to take my imaginary sword and use it. I wanted to become the hero of my own story.

  “You have to break up with Roman.”

  “Why?”

  “Becauth he is lying to you.”

  “Why?” I persisted.

  “Because the only reason he slept with you was because I paid him to!” His words came out in an angry haste. The air in my lungs squeezed against my chest, and my mouth dropped open. I stared at him, wide-eyed, before the next splutter of words attacked me. He was so close to me, our faces so near, I could see things on his face I’d never seen before. Fury. Frustration. Madness.

  “I knew he was the town’s whore and that he was for hire. Knew that he had a café for you to work in. I paid him six million dollars to build his stupid SurfCity in exchange for spending six months with you. I didn’t want him to touch you or seduce you, just bring you back to life. I meant well, Jesse, but he took the money and the girl, too. A girl who wasn’t mine to give. He tried to blackmail me yesterday.”

  My back slammed against my vehicle. I cupped a hand over my mouth. “No.”

  “Yes. I bet he didn’t tell you why I wanted to break the contract, right? I didn’t even mind about you going out together. I only want what’s best for you, sweetie.” He was under the impression Bane had already told me.

  I have something to tell you.

  Is it bad?

  Just come home.

  He was about to.

  Darren took a step toward me, even though we were already too close. “I ran a check on him to make sure he wasn’t as dangerous as they said.” He talked fast, in a hurry to get his point across. “And I found out that…sweetie, Roman is your stepbrother. Artem had an affair with Roman’s mother.”

  An arrow of hot angry bile shot straight to my throat.

  “You’re lying.” My voice broke.

  Darren thrust his phone into my hand. “Call him and ask. He won’t deny this. His mother was Art
em’s mistress. He is not the solution to your problems, Jesse. He is the cause of all of them.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. I’d never seen him like this. Sweaty. Red. Angry. It’s like he’d lost control over himself. His suit was wrinkly, his hair sticking out in every direction, and there were black circles under his eyes. Now that I thought about it—really thought about it—Darren never quite looked like he had his shit together. But lately…lately he looked even worse. The crumpled clothes. The fidgeting. The long hours in his office. He was falling apart.

  Was he ever put together?

  “Because I care about you, Jesse. All the things I did, I did because I care about you. I never knew he’d touch you.”

  “No.” I pushed his chest, and he stumbled back, his mouth falling in shock. “Why did you marry my mother? You don’t even love her. Hell, you hardly ever speak to her. Why do we live with you? I don’t even acknowledge your existence most of the time. Why do you interfere with my life? Why would you hire Bane? And a private investigator? Why, Darren? Why, why, why?”

  He stared at me, an ocean of emotions swimming in his eyes. There was something he wanted to say. Something he knew better than to utter aloud.

  “Tell me!” I stomped my foot, allowing the tears to fall down now.

  “Because I love you.”

  I sniffed, smiling bitterly. “Don’t take it personally, Darren, but I hate you. I hate you and I hate your mansion and I hate El Dorado and Todos Santos. I hate the entitled assholes who rule this town, and the fakers, and the too-trimmed lawns, and the too-shiny mall. I hate that you’re trying to fix me. I hate that your wife is a bitch. I hate that your wife is my mom.” But most of all, I hated Roman Protsenko for giving me hope and then taking it away. For giving me a false future, but also for taking the one thing that mattered. My dad. I pushed Darren again so I could climb into my Rover and leave.

  The slap came out of nowhere, landing square on my cheek. It was so hard it echoed in my ear for seconds later. I had to blink to make things blur back into focus.

  “Oh. Oh, Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I never meant to…”

  He held his palms up, trying to peel my hands off my face so he could take a look at what he’d done, but it was too late. I was going to run over the bastard if I had to. I hopped into my vehicle, locked the door quickly, and started the engine. I bolted out of there like a bat out of hell, getting out of the neighborhood first, and rolling onto the main road leading into downtown Todos Santos.

  It was only at the traffic light, when I stared at the bright red circle on my face, that the penny dropped.

  Darren hadn’t had a lisp.

  And he smelled of vodka.

  FIFTEEN MISSED CALLS FROM DARREN.

  Eight missed calls from Bane.

  Five missed calls from Pam.

  Darren

  Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I snapped. I apologize. Please come back.

  Bane

  ?

  Darren

  We can work this out. Worse things have happened. My own father used to belt me when I was a kid. It’s no excuse for what I did, but it happens.

  Bane

  Snowflake, where you at?

  Darren

  Jesse, please call back.

  Pam

  You’re not ruining this for me, you little bitch, so you better drag your skinny ass back to El Dorado, because Darren is going crazy and we need to sort this out.

  I couldn’t face any of them, but I also had nowhere to go.

  Mrs. B was in El Dorado, the last place I wanted to be, so that was out of the question.

  Instead, I crashed at Gail’s. She lived in one of the pink-yellow villas on the promenade. Gail was understanding. She didn’t call me a freak when I asked for her sneakers and yoga pants and announced that I was going for a run on the beach before I’d even dumped my backpack in her living room.

  “I wish I had the urge to run every time I was anxious, as opposed to polishing off an entire tub of Chunky Monkey.” She sighed dramatically, smiling to herself.

  Of course, I didn’t tell her what it was about. I just turned off my phone and asked that if Bane called, to tell him I was not there. She thought my problems were boy-stuff, so she wasn’t too anxious.

  “He’s my boss, Jesse.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “And he’s crazy about you. He would kill me. Do you want me dead?”

  I looked at her flatly.

  She rolled her eyes. “You better give me a hell of a eulogy, bitch.”

  Taking the stairs three at the time, I poured out to the salty fresh air of the promenade and started running. I plugged my headphones in, needing to drown the demons in my head. “Can You Feel My Heart” by Bring Me the Horizon poured through the earbuds. I put all the pieces together. Everything Darren had said and all the things Roman had probably wanted to explain before Darren beat him to it.

  SurfCity.

  Six-month contract.

  Six million dollars.

  To coax me out of my shell.

  Like I was a fucking crab.

  For him to throw into the boiling water while still alive.

  Put on a plate.

  Crack. Break. Devour.

  Nausea crawled from the pit of my stomach up to my throat, but I didn’t slow down. No. I ran faster, feeling my hot tears flying in the air beside me. They felt so hot on my cold face.

  In the time after The Incident, I’d always wondered what it was in my judgment that had caused this disaster to happen. She asked for it was thrown in the air too many times. I’d guessed if I’d had my dad around, he’d have said that there was no such thing. He’d been a social worker, a poet, and a dejected drunk. But he was also smart. It wasn’t anything I’d worn or said. It wasn’t my quest to fit into a place that had decided that I was different—much like Roman—before I’d even opened my mouth. It wasn’t because I’d been raped, and yes, I told myself, I had been raped before.

  It was simply my messing with the wrong crowd. The wrong crowd who looked like the right one. Pristine white smiles, ironed clothes, good manners, and straight As. Sometimes you just couldn’t know, and I needed to let go.

  Let go of the past. It’s no longer yours, Mayra had said to me once, when I’d poked at my missing memory again.

  But, of course, my past was mine—the only thing that was mine were the moments that made me who I was. When Bane had come into my life, so had the flashbacks. I liked to think of it as a way for Artem—Pam called him Art, she was embarrassed enough to admit she’d fallen pregnant by a Russian immigrant—to give me some of my sanity back.

  I wanted to remember.

  My legs hit the sand quietly, and I stared down at my own shadow, trying to regulate my breaths. I miss you, Old Sport.

  Everything was falling apart around me, but I felt oddly tranquil. Free.

  I looked up at the open sky, and it stared back at me. It was forming into a deeper and deeper shade of dark blue, like water spreading over a cloth, and I was trying to chase an invisible sun at the end of my track.

  Why did you have to have an affair, Dad?

  But it was obvious, and even I knew it. My mother had never been a good partner. They were never married. The way Pam had explained it to me one drunken night, when she’d stumbled back from her friend’s wedding and come to my room to check that I was still alive, was that they’d met at a dive bar. She’d studied classical literature in college, and Artem knew all about Pushkin and Dostoyevsky. They’d hit it off and ended up in bed the same night. They were both the wrong kind of wasted, and when morning came, so did their senses. He left her dorms, but then when she found out that she was pregnant with me, they’d tried to make it work.

  I sometimes thought that my mom had her heart in the right place when all of this had happened, and maybe that’s the worst part.

  She’d tried to be a mother, and a wife, but never consistently. She used to kick my dad out of the house
for the smallest things. Because he hadn’t taken the trash out or had accidentally cut my bangs wrong or was late from work because he’d gotten caught up on a demanding case. Then the small stuff became big stuff, because he was just too frustrated. He’d drunk too much. He went MIA on us too much. He’d shown her that he loved her less and less. As with all loveless partnerships with children, they’d remained together hoping that someway, somehow, this would disappear.

  It had rained the day he died. No, not rained, poured. I remembered thinking God was crying with me. I remembered thinking God was unfair, because I was already unhappy, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong.

  At his funeral, there’d been a redheaded woman standing a few graves across, hiding behind big glasses. She was staring at us. I didn’t know why.

  I now knew.

  Then I remembered Darren stepping into the picture, conveniently close to the time Dad had died. The whole timeline of that year was a blur. Twelve is a bad age to lose a parent. You’re on the verge of a hormonal revolution, your body is blooming, your innocence is wilting, and everything feels personal.

  At first, I thrust myself into Darren’s open arms willingly.

  I’d been so thirsty for love, so unbearably lonely, I gulped up his attention like it was water in the desert.

  And Pam had loved it. Us. For the first time since I was born, she’d looked at me with a smile on her face. Granted, it was because I’d played right into her second-family plan, but she’d enjoyed it nonetheless.

  Then it happened.

  It happened.

  The flashback came, and with it, the terrible realization of how I’d gotten here, to this beach, at this hour, betrayed and stripped out of every meaningful relationship I’d ever had.

  That night.

  His back.

  As he closed the door.

  Locked it.

  Put the key above the tall cabinet I couldn’t reach.

  Turned around and said, lisplessly, “Hello, Jesse.”

  I collapsed, my knees hitting the sand, my hands trying to grasp at it like it was ropes I could climb. Ropes leading to the entire flashback that was now so clear, so vivid, so real.