by Rachel Jonas
“Anywho, I better get my stuff and get out of here before Harrison sends the dogs out to find me. Call you later.”
“Cool. Don’t have too much fun,” I call out after her.
She waves without glancing back and I’m relieved I no longer have to pretend. A small part of me hopes Vin is able to flush out whoever Pandora is. At least then I’ll know who to trust and who to bury.
My hand grips the door to the locker room, but before I can pull it open, my phone rings. And seeing as how it’s the new one, which only a handful of people have the number to, it startles me.
“Hey. Hello?” I answer, listening for Scar to respond.
“Did I get it right? Or was I supposed to call your other line, 007?” she asks in a noticeably snarky tone.
The amount of questioning I had to dodge while also convincing her to accept the new phone is unbelievable. But, if this phone call is any indicator, she’s at least obliging. Even if she doesn’t understand.
“Very cute. What’s up?” I ask.
She sighs. “Shane’s texting someone, and I refuse to stand here looking like a loser.”
It’s impossible to miss how these sudden changes between them are affecting her.
“Well, tell me how school was, since you’re using me,” I tease, leaning against the brick wall near the drinking fountain.
“School was drab as usual. Although, there was a fight in the teachers’ lounge before fourth period.”
“Wait, two students fought in the teacher’s lounge?”
“Nope,” Scar clarifies. “Two teachers fought in the teachers’ lounge.”
I’m speechless, which has her laughing.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much been everyone’s reaction,” she says. “People are making all kinds of jokes about it, but it sounds like Ms. Pritchard’s been sleeping around with Ms. Sanchez’s fiancé.”
“Geez. Glad they’re around to set good examples for you guys,” I say with heavy sarcasm.
“Just another day at South Cypress,” she adds with a laugh.
I hold the phone away from my ear when one of my coaches passes by, pretending Scar’s call isn’t the reason I’m not changed and in the gym. So, as soon as she’s gone, I pick up again.
“I should go. Ricky there to get you guys yet?” I ask, leaning to drink from the fountain before I head in.
“He texted Shane that he’s about a minute away, but don’t hang up. There’s some creepy guy hanging near the curb.”
My heart sinks. On a normal day, this isn’t news I’d want to hear from her. Now, given all that’s happened, I’m even more flustered by Scar’s update.
“Is he in a vehicle? Is he coming toward you guys?”
I’m aware of sounding just as frantic as I feel on the inside when asking, but there’s good reason to be concerned.
“Black van,” she answers. “He isn’t coming over or anything, but he keeps looking this way.”
I instantly go into panic-mode, patting both pockets for my keys. “You need to get inside the building, Scar. Now!”
“Don’t be weird,” she sighs. “Dude’s creepy, but I’m pretty sure it’s unnecessary to duck for cover, Blue. Chill.”
“Scar, I mean it!”
Yelling, I’ve earned the attention of several of my teammates as well as other students still lingering in the halls, but I don’t care.
“Shane’s with me. Relax.”
“Damn it! Why won’t you just listen to me for once!” I scream, running toward an exit now.
There’s silence on the other end and I fear that my headstrong sister just planted her feet even more firmly now that I’ve shouted at her.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’m dragging Shane toward the door as we speak, but when are you gonna tell me what’s turned you into an insane person?” she whisper-shouts into my ear.
Feels like all she does these days is question me on everything.
“Please, just get inside.”
“Because nothing’s going on with you and everything’s so fucking normal, right?”
In case it isn’t clear, she says those words as sarcastically as humanly possible.
“Scar—”
“Ricky’s here, which means there was zero point in running back inside. I need to go,” she interjects just as I hear the door to the school re-opening when she and Shane head back outside.
She isn’t crying, but I’ve definitely upset her, which likely has more to do with the fact that she’s distinctly aware of how she’s being kept in the dark. My heart’s still racing a mile a minute as I brace myself against the door frame just inside the lobby. While I get that she’s pissed, I can’t let her off the line yet.
“We’ll hang up once you’re in the car with Ricky.”
“Whatever,” she scoffs.
I’m winded and trying to settle down now that I know she and Shane aren’t alone. Then, half a minute later, I breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of Ricky’s voice in the background.
“Hanging up now,” Scar announces, right before following through with those words.
With trembling hands, I shoot Ricky a text.
Blue: Clearly, whatever shit you had to do today was more important than being on time, so don’t bother with Scar anymore. I’ll figure something else out.
Distraught and feeling like we just narrowly avoided a tragedy, I fall against the wall to catch my breath. Several who witnessed my meltdown are still watching, and while I’m certain pics of me freaking out will be sent to Pandora, I’m also certain of something else.
I’m done playing it safe.
I have no idea who the hell was in that van watching Scar, but I can’t sit around and wait for something bad to happen. I changed my mind before, but not again. If it comes down to it, it’s a must that I’m equipped to protect her.
By any means necessary.
@QweenPandora: Well, let’s see whose life I can randomly ruin today. That’s what Pandora’s all about, right?
Oh, shit! This one looks fun!
Apparently, things aren’t going so well at the dealership. From the looks of this doc I managed to get my hands on, it appears Laurence Holiday’s downtown Cypress location is experiencing a bit of financial trouble. And for those of you who don’t know, Laurence is none other than Princess P’s wallet/father.
Uh-oh! Looks like the princess isn’t the only one under that roof whose life’s going to shit right now. Guess the whole family’s reputation’s gone down the drain.
Ah, well. Just another day in our beautiful city.
The moment I dig up something else newsworthy, I’ll be back to drag another CP lowlife through the mud.
Later, assholes.
—X
Chapter 11
BLUE
I promised myself I’d never come back to this place, but thanks to my completely warranted paranoia, here I am.
All through practice, I kept wondering what would’ve happened if Ricky had been just a little later. Would my sister be another missing southside girl? By the time we were let out and I changed, my mind was completely made up. I can’t just sit around waiting for the worst to happen. I need to be ready.
For anything.
At one point, visiting Louisiana felt like a burden. It was the fear of having to fake my way through the holiday to avoid bringing West down. But all things considered, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. At least in Dupont Bayou, there’s no Pandora, no danger, and no Vin. Only safety—which I miss more than anything these days.
A car whizzes by and I rush to hide behind the cover of a large oak tree. I wait to make sure the person doesn’t brake, then step out onto the sidewalk again.
Based on X’s last post about Mr. Holiday losing one of his dealerships, it’s clear whoever this imposter is, they’re out for blood. Who knew a hostile Pandora takeover could be so brutal? Considering who I’m certain is behind those posts, the last thing I need is for him to know my next move, so I took extra precauti
ons tonight. Like leaving my car at home and choosing to walk instead. It’ll be easier to duck and hide from prying eyes on foot than in my big, blue hooptie. But now that I’ve reached my destination, instinct tells me there’s more to fear than a photo of me going viral.
Still, despite the pit in my gut, I knock. Like before, the ferocious dog goes nuts on the other side of the threshold. And like before, the door opens and Tommy’s staring back at me.
“Back so soon, Lil’ Ruiz?”
I don’t bother correcting him this time.
“I need to finish what we started,” I say in a rush, glancing over my shoulder. While it’d be best to do this indoors, I won’t make the mistake of asking again. He’s made it clear he does business a certain way and won’t deviate from his usual practice just for me.
“Told you you’d be back. Hang on a sec. I set something aside already.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead just stand shivering in the cold while I wait, thinking of all the reasons coming here was a shit idea, but also knowing I don’t have much choice.
The Navarro family was once synonymous with the Ruizes, but at some point, Tommy’s father and uncles chose to go their own way. They branched off into similar yet separate areas of business, but the separation created a serious rift between the two families. One that’s left them just short of being enemies. However, blood ties have been made along the way—marriages and shared descendants—keeping both in their own lane, despite the mutual dislike between them. If it weren’t for the fact that I attended South Cypress High with members of both families, I wouldn’t likely know any of this, because for the most part, both sides keep the falling-out private.
Still, I was a firsthand witness to Tommy and Ricky’s friendship sliding off track.
It feels like an hour’s passed by the time I hear Tommy’s footsteps on the other side of the threshold, bringing me hope that I’ll be able to leave here soon. The door swings open and my gaze lowers to the moderately sized box he’s holding.
“Thank you,” I rush to say, reaching for the security door, only to find that it’s locked.
“Slow down, Lil’ Ruiz. Didn’t your momma ever teach you any manners?” he asks with a grin. “We need to talk money.”
That word makes my throat feel tight and my stomach rolls. He seems to notice and narrows his eyes toward me.
“How much you got on you?”
I swallow hard before speaking. “I have fifty I was supposed to use on groceries, but I can get you more by the weekend.”
He’s laughing before I can even finish speaking. “Now I see why you were trying that little snatch-and-grab move. You know that’s not even in the ballpark of what a piece like this costs, right?”
He shakes his head and attempts to close the door, causing my desperation level to creep just a bit higher.
“Name the price?”
He pauses, which means I have his attention again. “You really need this thing, don’t you?”
A frustrated sigh leaves me, but I’m more than aware that he’s calling the shots here. It’s his game and I asked to play it.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
His head cocks to the side and I hate feeling like an insect caught in his web, but there’s no other way to describe it.
“I’m curious. What’s so bad that a girl like you needs a gun?”
He asked this very question the last time I showed up on his doorstep and I sidestepped it. Something tells me he won’t be so passive this time.
“Just for protection,” I answer.
A chilled breeze sweeps through and I hold my breath, thinking he’ll pry for more details, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. He just moves on.
“So, you and the rich boy just fuck-buddies, or is it serious?”
As much as I don’t want to answer any of his questions, this one is the lesser of two evils.
“It’s serious,” is all I say.
That smug look on his face doesn’t leave when he nods.
“Either way, you were smart to get out from under Ricky. The streets are heating up more every day. Be a shame for you to lose him to prison like you did Hunter. Or, you know, worse.”
My gut twists when he says that, and I lose focus a bit.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Tommy shrugs and he’s smiling a bit now. “Nothing in particular, but you’ve at least heard the Ruizes haven’t exactly been making friends lately.”
“Your dad and Paul have been at each other’s throats for years now. That’s nothing new.”
“Damn, you miss everything being at that fancy-ass school, don’t you?” he says with a dark laugh. “Paul’s got bigger enemies than Pop. Been a lot of hotshots from out-of-state sniffing around Cypress Pointe the past few months.”
“Like who?”
The question makes his smile grow. “Thought we weren’t sharing information?”
My breathing quickens and I hate everything about this. He knows Ricky and I are close—even if he’s currently on my shit-list for being late, and I’m ignoring his texts—but of course I’d want to know if there was something happening that he needs to look out for.
“I’ll let you have this one for free since you’ve been out of the loop,” Tommy teases. “The O’Farrell family—heard of ‘em?”
I shake my head, feeling my stomach sink for reasons I don’t yet understand. “No, who are they?”
“Bad motherfuckers from Boston,” he answers. “They’ve been doing an awful lot of business in the city lately.”
“Is… that a bad thing?”
I feel so naïve asking that, especially seeing as how my gut’s already answered that question for me.
“Started out friendly enough, but some would say that ain’t the case anymore. My sources tell me the O’Farrells have been trying to do too much too soon, taking a bigger piece of the proverbial pie than what’s been offered. That’s the problem with parasites, though. Leave ‘em unchecked and they tend to kill the host,” he adds. “Guess that’s why it’s been decided not to leave that shit unchecked.”
My heart’s in my throat now, and I’m afraid to think of what this all means for Ricky—directly, indirectly.
“But enough about the family business,” Tommy continues with a smile. “You got any idea how to use this thing?”
My gaze shifts to the box he holds and, suddenly distracted by my own rampant fear, I take a few seconds to answer.
“It’s been a while.”
“Which means no,” he scoffs. “Guess you better block off a weekend and find some YouTube videos. I’m in sales, not training.”
I don’t bother explaining that, back when Mike was still on the force, he did teach Hunter and me how to load and handle a handgun. Partly, I keep this to myself because I don’t feel like sharing anything personal at the moment. But I also don’t speak up because it almost sounds like he’s letting me take the box. I’m reluctant to get my hopes up, though.
“Fifty now, because I know shit’s been tough for you since Hunter left, but I expect weekly payments until I say we’re square. Understood?”
I nod and fish the money from my pocket. “Understood.”
He hesitates as he stares at the chump-change I’m offering, and when he unlocks the security door to take it, he curses to himself through the entire exchange.
“Don’t make me come find you to get my money,” he warns. “I don’t care how far back we go; I always get what’s mine.”
I’m shivering as I step down off his porch, and it has nothing to do with it being cold as balls out here, while having everything to do with what my gut’s telling me—I’m about ninety-nine percent certain I’ve just made a huge mistake.
But like with all things, time will tell.
@QweenPandora: Looks like I’m bringing you folks a double-header tonight, and this one’s kind of juicy.
There’s been talk that the Harrisons’ marriage is on its last leg. Unti
l now, it’s all been rumors, but this pic of Cypress Pointe’s beloved headmaster and his better half leaving a counselling session—looking rather distraught, might I add—seems to confirm that theory.
What happened? Wifey’s penchant for a fresher, younger cut of meat finally taking its toll? Or perhaps someone has some real insight into what’s going on. Got something to add? I’ll be here all night.
Later, assholes.
—X
Chapter 12
BLUE
Scar hasn’t spoken a single word to me since picking her up from the diner. Not even about all the X drama, which she would’ve loved to chat about. If her silence on that issue hadn’t already let me know she’s pissed about earlier, the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut would’ve made it obvious.
I have every intention to try and clear the air between us, but first, I have a gun to hide. Standing at the opening of my closet, I look around, deciding to shove the box from Tommy under a pile of hoodies in the far right corner. Then, after moving a few things around to conceal it completely, I head to Scar’s room. Surprisingly, she hasn’t locked me out.
“Ok, just say whatever you need to say so we can eat dinner and not have our entire night ruined.”
Apparently, just the sound of my voice has earned me the death stare, but I don’t care. This is how we handle things. We talk them out.
“What difference does it make whether I say something or not? Because you’ll say absolutely nothing in return,” she scoffs, dropping down onto her bed after pulling her dark hair into a ponytail.
I should’ve felt that coming. My gaze lowers to the carpet and I still have no clue how to navigate these waters—tell her enough so she knows to be more mindful of her surroundings, but not so much that she’s overly paranoid.