by Janna King
Presley turned, serious. “Wait, Sean, I want to talk to you. It’s about Mia.” Sean stopped ushering. “I know you’re a good brother,” continued Presley. “You know how I know? Because my brother is an asshole.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Sean.
“I believe you,” said Presley softly. “I care about Mia. You probably know that she was friends with Ruby Taylor.”
Sean didn’t respond.
“She’s the girl who was involved with Grant the night he was killed,” said Presley. “She was released.”
“Then she’s innocent.” Sean moved to the mini fridge and pulled out a bottled water.
“She may not have committed that crime, but she’s trouble.” Presley stepped away from the door. “I tried to warn Mia.”
“Mia is going to do what she wants to do.” Sean opened the bottle and drank.
Presley tugged on the cuff on her hoodie. “I’m worried.”
Sean motioned with the bottle. “About her or you, because she does what she wants?”
Presley started to cry. She slumped down on the bed. “I’ve completely lost my mind with everything that’s happened.” She wept as if the floodgates had opened. “Thank God for waterproof mascara.”
Sean squeezed his eyes closed and exhaled, then sat next to her. “I get it.” He offered her the water, but she put her hand up. He placed the bottle on the nightstand.
“I’ve been brought up to put on my game face, so that’s what I’ve been doing,” said Presley between sobs. “But it’s exhausting.” She flopped back on the bed.
“I’m sure,” said Sean.
“Mia is lucky to have you and your mama.” Presley looked up into Sean’s face, her mouth trembling. “She wanted to go home, and I would want to go home, too, if my family gave a shit about me.” She turned and curled up, her shoulders shaking with more sobs.
Sean watched her, his eyes a conflicted mix of exasperation and empathy. He lowered himself down and spooned her. Her weeping subsided and she closed her eyes. As her breathing steadied against him, it lulled Sean to sleep.
When he woke in the morning, Presley was gone.
FORTY-SIX
Grace and I are so sorry you’ve decided to cut your trip short,” said Lyndon. She and Grace filled Mia’s FaceTime screen. Mia held her smartphone for Kathryn, who sipped coffee next to Sean on the deck at Topper’s. Her breakfast of brioche French toast and eggs Florentine sat half-eaten.
“My doctors feel it’s best I go home,” said Kathryn into the phone.
“What a shame.” Grace shook her head. “You didn’t get a chance to enjoy sunset on the yacht.”
“We have our private boat ride back,” replied Kathryn. “That’s plenty.”
“Mia, I’m sure you want to go back with your mom,” said Lyndon.
“I—” Mia started.
Kathryn put her hand on Mia’s arm. “She needs to stay here.”
Mia looked at her mom.
“I can see what this job means to her.” Kathryn smiled softly at Mia.
“I hope you can see what Mia means to us,” said Lyndon.
“I do,” replied Kathryn.
Sean put down a piece of honeydew melon, his fork clinking on the china plate. Mia glanced at him.
“Well, Mia, Grace and I completely understand whatever decision you make,” said Lyndon.
“Sean—” said Grace.
Mia turned the phone’s screen to Sean.
“Hm?” said Sean with a stoic expression.
“Though you and your sister don’t seem to do well with phones, we’re going to send you a new one,” said Grace.
“Thanks.”
“On one condition,” added Grace.
“What’s that?” Sean smirked.
“You jump on social and represent.”
“I’ll think about it.” Sean side-eyed Mia, who gave him a pleading look.
“We hope to see you both soon,” said Lyndon.
“Safe travels.” Grace waved. The sisters clicked off.
Mia placed her phone facedown on the table and put her hand on Kathryn’s. “I’m going back with you.”
“No.” Kathryn shook her head. “You’re not. You’re finishing what you started. I didn’t raise either of you to be quitters.”
“Are you sure?” Mia searched her mom’s face.
“Yes,” said Kathryn. “I’m changing the subject now.” She pointed to the lawn. “Look.” Mia and Sean turned in the direction of her finger. A white-tailed bunny munched on the manicured grass.
“Lawnmower,” said Mia with a chuckle.
“Cheap labor,” retorted Sean.
Mia threw her hands up. Kathryn put down her coffee cup.
“I’m kidding!” Sean chuckled. “It’s all good. Come on.” He ate the melon on his plate. “You both like seafood, right?”
Mia and Kathryn nodded. Sean opened his mouth to expose the light green chewed mass inside. Kathryn broke up laughing, covering her face with a napkin.
“You’re so gross,” laughed Mia.
After they finished brunch, Mia walked them to the private boat at end of the hotel’s dock. She and Kathryn held each other for a long time. “I’ll be home before you know it.”
“I’m am proud of you,” Kathryn whispered in Mia’s ear. “And—”
“’Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’’” finished Mia, her voice catching.
Kathryn kissed Mia all over her face. Sean flipped Mia off, but she saw the love in his eyes. She returned the gesture with the same affection, then turned to walk down the dock.
Vincent waited for her, snapping a photo. “Your mother is a warrior-goddess,” he said.
“She is.” Mia watched the boat glide away from the dock. She wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision, but she felt relief when her mom gave her the blessing to stay because she knew she would have stayed regardless. As Vincent drove them back to the estate, Mia’s mind wound like the road’s curves. She exhaled when the text from Cole buzzed in:
Day drinking at The Hole. Meet us.
Mia looked at Vincent. “Can we stop for a drink? I could use one.”
“Absolument,” replied Vincent.
Mia texted back:
See u there.
Vincent steered the car into town and parked in front of the bar. They entered. It was still early, just past noon, so the place was almost empty. Cole and Presley sat at the usual table. A couple of local guys were playing pool.
“We gotta get our drink on before the rest of the chudnuts show up,” Mia overheard the guy in a South Wharf Plumbing shirt say as he knocked two balls in the right corner pocket.
Behind the bar, Mac and Frank prepped for the impending rush. Mac cut up limes, glancing periodically at Presley, who scrolled on her smartphone as if he were invisible.
Music played from the jukebox, Pearl Jam’s “Alive.”
Cole rose as Mia approached with Vincent. “How’s your mom?”
“She’ll be fine.”
Presley put her phone on the table. “Did the fam get off okay?” She straightened, chest up. Mia saw that she was wearing Sean’s Boston College Eagles T-shirt knotted at the waist.
Mia glared at her. “I’m ready for some darts.”
“I’ll meet you there with a beer,” said Cole, exchanging a glance with Vincent.
“I’ll come with you,” replied Vincent. They left Mia and Presley alone.
Mia’s jaw tensed. “I asked you not to, but you couldn’t help yourself.”
“You asked me not to what?” Presley fixed the star charm necklace that touched the neck of the tee.
“I asked you not to hook up with my brother.”
“I didn’t hook up with him.”
“You’re wearing his shirt,” snapped Mia. “You eye-fucked him the entire time he was here, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
“You’re the last person who should be slut-shaming.” Presley pulled up Mia’s Instagram
on her phone, displaying a post of Mia standing with her mom in front of the Mia dress poster at the store. “Check out the comments.”
Mia took Presley’s phone and scrolled down to three comments in a row:
trevorsouthie99 Devil-slut
trevorsouthie99 Cheater & liar
trevorsouthie99 Bitch
She shoved the phone back at Presley, her body burning with anger. “That’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“I’ll bet you still have a T-shirt of his,” remarked Presley.
Mia found the post on her own phone and deleted the comments, then blocked Trevor.
“I need something stronger than a beer.” Mia walked away from Presley, heading toward Mac at the bar.
“Tequila, please.”
Mac nodded toward Presley, who stepped up to the jukebox across the room. “If she hates me so much, why does she even come here?”
“That’s why she comes in here,” replied Mia.
Mac poured her shot. She tossed it back and headed for the dart boards, where Cole had just landed a bull’s-eye. Elvis Presley’s “Hound Dog” started to play.
Before Mia could reach Cole and Vincent, two cops, one male, one female, entered and marched toward her. Her heart started pounding, but they moved past her to the bar. Cole and Vincent stopped playing.
“Mac Doyle?” demanded the male cop.
“That’s me,” said Mac.
“You’re under arrest for the possession and distribution of a controlled substance.”
As Mac was cuffed by the cop, he chuckled bitterly and exhaled in defeat.
Frank rushed over. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Frank, unless you want us to shut you down for serving alcohol to minors, you’ll step away,” said the cop.
Watching, panicked, Mia backed into the pillar where she and Cole had kissed on July Fourth. Eve exited the kitchen, putting on her server’s apron. She looked up to see the female cop ambush her.
“Eve Wier?”
“Fuck me,” muttered Eve as she was cuffed.
Mac and Eve were read their Miranda rights as the cops led them to the front door. Mac caught eyes with Mia, who turned away and saw Cole staring into his beer mug. She turned back. Presley was leaning on the jukebox, tapping on the glass to the beat, entertained by the show.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Eve shot at her, as she was pushed through the door by the cop.
After the chaos ended, Presley turned her gaze to Mia, then opened her arms to everyone. “Drinks all around on Lyndon Wyld.”
Mia watched Frank set shot glasses on the bar. “Let’s go.” Business as usual, Mia thought.
FORTY-SEVEN
As Vincent drove Presley, Mia and Cole back to the estate, Mia couldn’t stop thinking about Mac’s face as he was led out of The Rabbit Hole. The betrayal in his eyes—it seemed directed at her.
“I told you they were cracking down here,” said Presley.
Mia touched Cole’s sleeve. “Were you at the police station yesterday? My brother thought he saw you.”
Cole shook his head. “Why would I go to the police station?”
Mia stared out the window. Maybe Sean had been messing with her because he was pissed. She glanced at Presley in Sean’s T-shirt.
As they drove up the estate’s driveway, Mia could see a small figure curled up to the side of the porch steps.
Cole squinted. “Who is that?”
At closer look, Mia recognized Ruby, knees bent to her chest, arms around her shins. Vincent stopped the car and they all got out. Mia strode to the steps. Ruby looked like she had been dragged down the pebble driveway. Her wounds were barely healed. Her face was less swollen, leaving eyes as big as those in the Keane prints that hung on Mia’s grandma’s walls.
“Ruby!” cried Mia. “Are you okay?”
Ruby rose, weak and wasted. She wore a Rabbit Hole sweatshirt and Levi’s that were too big on her, cinched with a man’s belt.
“Otto came to pick me up when I was released,” she said. “I went back with him to the estate, but I left. I couldn’t stay there.”
“Is Otto still there?” asked Cole.
Ruby nodded. “I moved to a friend’s, but now that’s not a good place for me either.”
Presley eyed Ruby’s outfit. “I’ll bet,” she muttered.
“Come inside.” Mia started to lead Ruby into the house.
Presley stood in front of the door. “This is my house, too, and I don’t want her here.”
Vincent stood, watching.
“I’ll bring you some water,” Cole said to Ruby. Glaring at Presley, he disappeared inside.
Mia gently touched Ruby’s arm. “What happened that night?”
“I don’t remember.” Ruby put her hand to her head. “I’ve tried and tried . . .”
“That’s ’cause you were more wasted than my cousins after robbing a Rite Aid,” Presley sneered.
“If you’re not going to let her inside, then you go!” snapped Mia.
“Fine, I will.” Presley started, but first got in Ruby’s face. “I’m onto you, girl.” Ruby cowered, her eyes filled with fear.
Mia pushed Presley away. “Go!”
“Grant’s still dead, Mia,” said Presley. “Remember that.”
As Presley headed inside, an engine roared. She stopped. They all turned to see a red vintage Corvette convertible pull into the driveway.
“I’m out,” said Vincent, walking back to the guest house.
Otto was behind the wheel. He stopped in front of the porch. “Ruby, sweetie, let’s go.”
Mia held Ruby’s hand. Ruby didn’t move.
“Ru-by,” Otto repeated in creepy singsong. He shoved the car into Park and got out. He strode up to her. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t want—” said Ruby in the smallest voice.
“These fucking poseurs are not your friends,” hissed Otto. He took her skinny arm in his hand. “I’m the one who takes care of you, baby.”
Presley stared from the doorway, as frozen as Ruby, like Otto’s words were kryptonite.
“Let go of her,” said Mia, locking eyes with Otto.
“Mermaid Mia, I remember you.” Otto leered at her. “You are a saucy wench!”
“Get your hand off her,” demanded Mia.
Otto took his hand off Ruby and put it on Mia’s arm. “There. Better?”
They heard a crash on the porch. Cole, who had dropped the water glass, launched off the steps from the front door, shoving Otto away from Mia. He grabbed him by his collar. “If you touch anyone here again, I will fucking kill you where you stand.”
“I would like to see that,” said Vincent, who had stopped midway to the cottage.
Cole pulled Otto closer with an even tighter grip. “I don’t think a single person would care what happens to your body after I dump it in the harbor. Am I right?” He glanced at the others. Their silence said everything. He released Otto, tossing him off. Otto stumbled back to his car and snickered at the group.
“Poseurs.” He roared off in the Corvette.
Mia nodded gratefully to Cole as she walked Ruby inside. Presley held the door open for them. Mia guided Ruby to their bedroom.
“You can have my bed, Ruby,” said Presley, patting one of her pillows. “I’ve never had a bad dream snuggled in it.” She spoke with unusual softness.
“Thank you,” whispered Ruby.
With a small smile at Mia, Presley left. Mia felt guilty for doubting Presley’s story about her uncle because today, she saw the connection with Ruby.
Mia turned to Ruby, who scanned the room. “Do you want to take a bath?”
Ruby nodded. Mia ran the water in the tub, dropping in a vanilla-scented bath bomb that she bought at the farmers market. It fizzed into strands of bubbles.
“That smells good,” said Ruby with a child’s smile. “Like a cookie.”
Mia helped her out of her clothes, putting her Wear National nylon fanny pack on the basin counter. Ruby
’s body was badly bruised. There were fresh cuts on her arms. “Oh, Ruby.”
Ruby started to cry.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Mia brushed a strand of Ruby’s hair off her face.
“It’s not okay,” replied Ruby, weeping. “I can’t remember, and I feel horrible about that . . . for Grant. I can see your face at The Rabbit Hole, Mac singing . . .” Ruby closed her eyes. “And a girl with blond hair.” She opened them. “That’s the last thing I remember.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “But maybe that was just me.”
“You don’t need to think about it right now.” Mia helped Ruby down into the suds. When Ruby put her wet feet on the tub’s ledge, Mia saw the fresh needle marks between her toes. “But you need to get help.”
Ruby nodded.
“Relax for a little bit, okay?” Mia headed out the door.
“Mia?”
Mia stopped.
“Thank you for everything.” Ruby’s beatific smile returned.
Mia left the bathroom door open a crack. She moved to her sewing machine to adorn a Lyndon Wyld dolman-sleeve top with silver star appliques. Watching the needle’s rapid pokes in and out of the fabric was meditative for her. After a few minutes, she stopped the machine.
The water was still running in the bathroom. She opened the door to find Ruby in the tub, unconscious. An empty bottle of OxyContin was tipped sideways on the counter. The label read “Otto Hahn.”
Another ambulance siren blared. Ruby was saved within an inch of her life.
FORTY-NINE
In the darkness, Mia ran down the shore. The sand felt gritty and wet beneath her bare feet. The salt water that splashed up burned the cuts on her legs. She passed the red-and-white-striped umbrellas in front of the Wear National estate. They fluttered in the moonlight, waving at her to remind her of the first time she saw Ruby with Otto, when Presley and Cole tried to pull her away. A plastic toy shovel sticking from the sand jabbed her insole. She kept running.
She reached Brant Point and the lighthouse hugged by rocks. It was late, so no one was around. She climbed through the wood slats of the railing and up the rocks, maneuvering to the edge, where she had stood with Ruby. Her view was a black-blue canvas of melded sea into sky. Now all she wanted was to see the worn brick walls of the old buildings on her Southie street. She closed her eyes and wished she were back in the thrift shop, combing through gently loved clothing and imagining how she could make a piece her own.