by L.J. Shen
Bane snatched his radio from the sand, “Pacific Coast Highway” by Kavinsky blasting from the speakers. He grabbed my board and tucked it under his arm, carrying both our surfboards up to the boardwalk. I followed him on failing legs, the bile still fresh and sour in my throat. When we got to the walkway, he greeted homeless people living in makeshift cardboard homes on the grassy hills by the shops. He knew everyone on this beach. Every failing artist who shoved their CD into people’s hands, and every new salesman in the weed, surfing, and bike shops. Bane was still shirtless and barefoot when he walked me over to my car. A not-so-secret donor had paid my pending invoice at the shop and they’d finally released my Audi, new cylinder and all. Bane turned around and leaned against my passenger door when we got to my car, folding his arms over the angry dragon on his chest. His lethargic jade eyes scanned me with amused disinterest, and he tilted his head, like I was a weird mystical creature he couldn’t figure out.
“Come over to meet my mom,” he said out of nowhere.
The laughter bubbled from my sore throat. It wasn’t happiness, but embarrassment diluted with anxiety. I rubbed my hands together to warm up from the water, slapping my palms over my face to keep him oblivious to my blushing cheeks. “Aw, I didn’t know we were getting serious. And this, after you refused to take me to prom when we were actually dating.”
He rolled his eyes before shooting me a serious look. “Prom is lame, and we were never really together. We were fucking exclusively until your daddy issues came out in full force. Anyway, I think my mom could help you.”
“Help me with what?” I nearly snorted. I was beyond help. I was about to fuck over two people to save one I loved.
“With your family situation.” Bane didn’t know everything, but he knew enough. Getting assistance from an outsider was tempting, but I’d never met Bane’s mother before, and even though I knew she was a hotshot with all kinds of connections, I didn’t trust adults. Real adults. The ones who ran the world I lived in. “I appreciate the offer, but I got it covered.” I walked over to the driver’s side of my car and swung the door open, sliding into the Audi. I could still smell Vicious’—the previous owner—scent in my car, and he reminded me of Trent. Of his sharp posture and formidable frown. Bane appeared by my window and tapped the roof of my car, smirking.
“Is that why you forgot to tie your board to your roof? Look, you should at least think about it, Gidget. For what it’s worth, I think you don’t have it covered, and if you need a helping hand, you know mine is good for more than fingering.”
“Disgusting, but thank you.”
I tied my surfboard and drove away, not even bothering to make a stop at home to take a shower and change. I needed to think about what I was going to do with my mother. I needed to come up with a plan for that flash drive. But most of all—I needed to stop thinking about Trent like he wasn’t the enemy.
ATLANTA FUCKING GEORGIA.
“Are you sure?” I tap-tap-tapped my fingers on my desk, one hand cupping my cheekbone. I stared at Amanda like she was delivering me a stillborn, and not the fucking news I’d been waiting for, for years. In a way, she was. This information was useless, futile, dead weight. She sat across from me, looking every inch the professional private investigator—dressed smart, but not too sophisticated, in a white blouse and a pair of black cigar pants—and nodded, sliding a manila file across my desk.
“Positive. She lives in a nice apartment building in Buckhead, an upscale area in Atlanta. She has a Chihuahua. No husband. No children. As far as I am aware, she doesn’t work. Not sure where the money comes from. I can look deeper into it, of course, but that would entail flying out to Atlanta. You will need to cover the ticket, hotel, plus the hourly rate. Or I could connect you with a colleague who works there. He could find out all the data that you need.”
If there was a fucking guideline as to what to feel, about the Val thing and in general, I’d buy the shit out of it and order extra copies. For the first time in years, it looked like things were picking up. My parents and I took Luna to her weekly sign language classes. We all made an effort, and she actually started communicating with us. Luna had Camila, whom she liked, and Sonya, whom she absolutely adored. And, somewhere in-between, Edie Van Der Zee had managed to make my daughter smile, laugh, shop for clothes, and go to Disneyland. It seemed like I was on the brink of a breakthrough, and rocking the boat felt like a wild Vegas bet. When I’d started my hunt after Val, the situation had been different. I was sitting alone in Chicago with a one-year-old baby in my arms. I still remembered the moment I decided to pick up my phone and call my best friend Dean, asking if his lawyer dad knew of a good PI I could trust. I was staring at the city from my penthouse, Luna chewing my arm with her new pointy teeth between pleading cries for her mother.
I was angry.
I was frantic.
I was desperate.
I was vengeful.
…And I realized that now, I was no longer any of those things.
Or perhaps I was, but not enough to screw up everything I’d achieved in the last few months. Luna came first, and it didn’t look like her mother was interested in claiming her. If anything, it seemed like Val had found a new fat wallet to leech off of.
“Leave it,” I said, waving my hand. I stood up and stepped to my floor-to-ceiling window, frowning at Los Angeles. The city was like lust. Ugly and raw and filthy, yet somehow utterly irresistible. She lacked all the things people love. Structure, sophistication, beauty. Yet she attracted everyone and everything. Sucking in and spitting out people with pockets full of dreams and money. That’s why I’d decided to stay in Todos Santos, even though a single biracial man was not the best candidate to live in ultra-white, obnoxiously high-class Todos Santos. I didn’t want Luna to know ugliness. She deserved more than life had given her so far.
“Are you sure?” Amanda asked, her Jamaican accent slightly thicker than before. It happened to her when she was thrown off-balance. My answer was definitely surprising. I nodded, turning around, my hands clasped behind my back.
“Luna’s in a good place right now. I don’t wanna throw her off-kilter. I’d rather focus on making her better.” Making her speak. “Then if all goes according to plan, I can contact Val discreetly and have her sign her rights over.”
Amanda bobbed her head, already clasping her purse. It was the end of an era. I’d worked with Amanda for too long, fucked her for months, and now it was all over. She stood up, and I walked over, feeling the need to do something civilized. I wasn’t a shithead. Not most of the time, anyway. And definitely not to people who weren’t shitheads to me.
“Thank you.” I squeezed her upper arm. “For everything. For helping me with the Val situation, for everything on that flash drive…”
“If you ever need anything else”—she returned my embrace, getting closer now—“you know where to find me.” Her lips brushed my ear, and I moved away, capturing her chin, dragging my thumb over her lower lip as I shook my head.
“Not anymore,” I spoke softly.
“Lucky girl.” She raised one eyebrow.
“Not at all. Trust me.”
She moved away from me, all business now, one hand on her hip. “Should I proceed with the Jordan Van Der Zee case, or close everything and send it to you?”
I didn’t need time to think. “Continue relentlessly, and don’t stop until I have the bastard’s head speared.”
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday seemed unbearably long and boring. The only things notable were my father was blissfully out of the office, probably taking a long vacation with one of his mistresses or planning the next step of his world domination, and I couldn’t stomach eating or looking at my mother. The latter was still oblivious to her husband planning to leave her. She was spending her days staring at her bathroom mirror, waiting for her locks to miraculously grow ten inches longer. I made food for her. She ate it without complaining. There was no Trent, and no Trent meant no hope. I was walking the hallway
s of the fifteenth floor with my heart in my stomach, veins, chest, legs, everywhere. It was swollen, diseased, infected. Tuesday, I spent the day helping Luna find pictures of seahorses online and painting them with water colors. I gave her the necklace I’d made for her, of a seashell, one that looked exactly like mine, but also different.
Hers was chipped, broken, imperfect.
I used the second black lace in the pack to make it, so I guess it was like one of those friendship bracelets. I’d never made one for anyone else. When I told her this, puzzled delight shone from her eyes. She didn’t understand me.
Neither could I.
I hovered and loitered everywhere on the floor, desperate to catch a glimpse of Trent. I needed that flash drive.
And on Friday, my wishes finally came true.
I was at my desk outside my father’s office. It was a smaller, sadder version of Max’s oak L-shaped desk. My head was between the pages of a surfing magazine I’d brought from home with me, and I was just about to flip a page when someone threw something at it. Two somethings. A Snickers bar and a Nature Valley. My head snapped up. I arched an eyebrow. Trent stood in front of me. Tall, dapper, and irresistible. He was silent, as I expected him to be, so I picked one of the bars without even examining the label, tearing the wrapper open and taking a bite. The hunger of the week slammed to me all at once, like I’d been waiting to see his face to know that it was okay to consume food.
“We haven’t played this game in a while,” I commented.
He shrugged. “I found better games to play with you.” Only he could say it so quietly no one would hear. My soul was a balloon losing air, and fast. I’d yearned for him, but for him it was just another spontaneous encounter. Maybe screwing him over was a blessing in disguise. There’d be nothing left to hold us together once I blew us apart. My mind drifted from my original goal when he was around. He obviously didn’t share the sentiment.
“In my office.” He cocked his head in the direction of the hallway. “In twenty minutes, so it doesn’t look suspicious.”
The fact we hadn’t been caught so far just went to show that people were really, mostly, self-centered pricks. Because I didn’t hide my interest very well. Sure, we hadn’t spoken, hung out, or made out with each other in the hallways. But my eyes didn’t leave any room for doubt. When I saw him—they were hungry.
He disappeared down the corridor, giving me some much needed time to collect my thoughts and hair into a messy bun, and then I walked over and knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
I closed the door behind me, leaning against it with my hands tucked behind my back. I gravitated toward him like he was the sun. A beautiful pleasure conceived by nature that could very well kill you if you got too close. He looked at me like I was the moon. Pale and lonely and so far away.
“Why do they call you The Mute?” I asked. Finally. I’d been meaning to do it ages ago, but it never felt right. Trent looked to be in a good mood today. I was going to capitalize on that while we were still on speaking terms.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He leaned back in his chair, looking powerful and stern. “I hardly fucking talk, Edie.”
He had no problem talking to me. “Yes, but have you always been like this, or is that something that…?”
“Happened after Luna’s mother ran away? Nope, I was always quiet.”
“Any reason for that?”
“I don’t enjoy small talk, or gossip, or anything in-between. I talk for a purpose. Tell me, Edie, is there a point to this conversation, or are you done wasting my time?”
I frowned. “Why did you call me to come here? You’re obviously in one of your moods.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of something dirty and wrong, but I have a proposition. Sit down.” He motioned with his chin toward the chair across from him. I stared at it before finally walking over and taking a seat. My hands were on my lap and I held them together to keep from biting my nails.
“Let me start by saying that I know and respect that your Saturdays are yours. Trust me, you made that point very clear. But I have a favor to ask. Vicious is throwing his annual summer barbecue—actually, his wife, Emilia, is in charge—and Luna and I have to go. Luna absolutely fucking despises these kinds of gatherings and the kids who try to talk and play with her. I’d take my parents to keep her company when I have to help around the kitchen and grill, but they’ll be out of town. I wouldn’t ask unless I had to. You know that, right?”
I was so used to his stern demeanor, it took me a moment to decipher his request.
Saturday.
Barbecue.
Theo.
No.
I swallowed hard. “Listen…”
“Breaking point. Everyone has one. These kinds of situations are my daughter’s. Edie.” He shot me a look I tried to decode. It wasn’t exactly wrecked—but it sure as hell wasn’t his usual put-together self. “I don’t know your story, but I do know that you’re not a stranger to feeling like Luna. She is going to stand there alone because I won’t be able to be with her every single second. She is going to get approached by kids. She is going to be uncomfortable and scared and stressed. I don’t want it for her, but I can’t fucking decline every single invitation I am given and lock us in my penthouse forever, which is what I’m forced to do half the fucking time.”
It stung. His speech hit me somewhere deep, because he was right. The outcast. I knew it. It lived in me, even if I didn’t look or talk like one. I shook my head, feeling tears prickling my eyes. No matter what I’d choose, I’d walk away from this room with a heavy heart. Ever since Theo had entered his facility, I’d always visited him, every Saturday, not skipping even once. Not even when I was sick. Was I really going to break the tradition for Trent and Luna?
How much longer would I even be in Luna’s life? The thought of saying goodbye to the beautiful, silent little girl who reminded me of myself tugged the words from me. “Just this once,” I heard myself saying. “Please, don’t ask me again and make me say no to Luna. Because I’d hate myself for turning her down and you for asking again. My Saturdays are mine,” I stretched. He gave me a curt nod, trying to conceal his obvious glee.
His tense shoulders released. “First and last time. I don’t know who he is, but he is lucky to have you,” he said. The paranoid in me perked up and made my body to shoot up.
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“Mainly because I’m not an idiot. Is he in jail? Are you planning to be with him when he gets out? Setting up a nest egg, paying off his debts?”
It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so tragic. How right and wrong he was. I walked over to the door, grabbed the bronze handle and stared at it, deflating with an exhale. Behind me, I could feel Trent’s stare on my back as he waited for an answer. Outside, I could hear the sound of a buzzing office. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“You don’t get to walk away before you answer me.”
“Says who?”
“Says your boss.”
I turned around. “You didn’t act like my boss when you gave me weed and dick.”
To this, he said nothing. His eyes slid a needle of pain into my neck, reminding me the power he had over me.
“First and last time I do this for you,” I stressed. “I mean it.”
“Edie,” he scolded. Why? I was just some girl he’d used to get off and get his daughter to communicate with the world. And I was stupid enough to let him use me because I loved Camila and Luna and enjoyed his hands on my body. Even though, frankly, I also had a dog in this fight. His flash drive. My key to freedom.
“Thank you for paying the shop, by the way. For fixing my car. I appreciate it, but I don’t need a sugar daddy.” My back was still to him.
“Good, because if you call me a sugar daddy one more time, I’ll smash it back to the piece-of-crap state it was in before. This is not what we are, Edie. You use me as much as I use you.”
I wanted to believe him, b
ut I knew what I felt.
The flash drive wouldn’t make us even. Not even close.
I opened the door and walked out, not bothering to close it behind me. There was no point in trying to conceal myself from him.
He’d find me. He always did.
LATER THAT DAY, I SLURPED my Ramen noodles in an alleyway sandwiched between the Oracle building and a large concrete parking lot. The place had the uncomfortable scent of stale piss, but it was so deserted, cold, and quiet, I simply couldn’t resist. Which was ironic, because it was exactly how I’d describe Trent. Sans the piss, obviously.
I sucked the last noodle between my lips and threw the plastic bowl into the bin behind me, my stomach full but my heart empty, when I turned around and slammed right into a concrete-strong body too hot to be a wall.
Trent.
“What?” I bit out. I wasn’t in the mood for his games. Though clearly, it wasn’t just about Saturday and Theo and his questions. I simply didn’t want to be around the guy who had so much power over me without holding anything hostage, like Jordan. Trent cornered me until my spine pressed against the cool metal of the back elevator leading to Oracle building. Reaching into his pocket, he plucked out a key card and swiped it behind my head, making the elevator ping in delight. The door slid open and I stumbled in, my knees weak. He pushed me the rest of the way until my back was against the wall. The door slid shut. He turned around to punch a floor, then twisted his head to face me again.
“What’s going on, Trent? I’ve given you what you want. Why are you here?” I pursed my lips. His face was serious as a heart attack.