by Angel Lawson
The pool deck has grown silent—the only sound coming from the thumping bass through the speakers. Juliette pales at Ezra’s accusation.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She glances over her shoulder at a few girls that have surrounded her since Rose went missing. “But you’re right about one thing, this party is lame.”
Juliette storms out, followed by her lackies. After a few awkward beats, the party continues. Ezra and Ozzy walk over to me and Finn.
“What the hell was that all about?” Ezra asks, zeroing in on me. “Are you okay?”
“I went to the guest house to use the bathroom, and Finn was already in there. We walked out at the same time and she just…I don’t know, pounced.”
I glance up at Ozzy to see if he’s bothered by me being alone with Finn. He seems unfazed by that, his eyes distant, focused elsewhere.
“You know,” Ozzy says, “she got really upset when you said that about older men.”
Finn nods. “Maybe she knows more about what Rose was doing than she’s admitted. It’s not like it would be a surprise if she did know. Juliette would keep Rose’s secrets.”
“Those two did everything together,” Ozzy says. “Maybe Juliette had a SugarBabies account, too.” He grimaces. “I need to get into her account.”
“You can’t hack it?” Ezra asks.
“Maybe, but now that I told the police that I did it once, I’m afraid if they catch me poking around illegally, they’ll have no problem pressing charges.”
Finn frowns. “So we need one of her devices.”
“They never found her phone, and I think the police took her laptop.” I say.
“Rose’s parents were pretty lenient with rules, but the one thing her dad hated was electronics. He was a big believer in family time and undistracted homework,” Finn says. “He’d take the phone and laptop away from her before dinner and didn’t give it back until she finished her homework. If her grades slipped, she lost privileges completely.”
“What are you saying?” I ask Finn.
“Rose was addicted to texting and social media. Her dad may have thought he had this under control. but he didn’t.”
“She had hidden devices,” Ozzy says, eyes brightening. “Like what? A phone?”
“iPod. Phone. Tablet. Whenever they upgraded, she hid the old one until her parents forgot about it.”
Ezra’s been listening, arms crossed over his barrel-sized chest. “We just need to get into her bedroom and find them. Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” Finn says, “I’ve snuck in her bedroom window a few times.”
A pang of jealously flares in my chest. Even now, I hate the thought of him with her. I shake it off and say, “The Wallers have a fundraiser at the library tomorrow night. I saw the banner when we were in town today.”
Ozzy nods and asks Finn. “You up for it?”
“Yep, I think so.”
“Good,” he says. “Get that device, and I can get into her accounts. That way we can find out more about who she was meeting and what Juliette knows about it.”
I feel a thrill of excitement, knowing the four of us have a plan together, but something else has happened during this conversation. A plan of my own has started to formulate. Something that doesn’t require the guys, but someone else. I’m going to need Alice.
28
Kenley
The party winds down and Ozzy and Finn head downstairs to the game room to play pool. They ask me to come with them, but I wave them on, happy to see them reconnecting. That’s how I find myself in the kitchen, collecting cups and cleaning up.
“We have a housekeeper that does that,” Ezra says from the kitchen door. He leans against the counter, hands tucked into his pockets. It feels stupid to say he looks dangerous—but he does. I’m not sure if it’s the hooded eyes or the fact he’s so comfortable in his skin. Something I’m definitely not.
“Tell me you’re not really going to leave this mess for someone else to clean up.”
“I thought we agreed to be honest.”
He’s referring to the conversation in the cottage. “That was about Rose, not the fact you’re a dick to your employees.”
A smile tugs at his perpetually pouty lips and his dark eyes watch me closely. “You’re feistier than I expected, Keene, at least when you stop hiding long enough to show it.”
I turn on the sink and rinse out a stack of cups. They reek of alcohol and punch. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Actually, yeah.”
I roll my eyes and focus on cleaning up. The hair on my neck stands on end as I feel Ezra still watching me. A strange sensation rolls over me. I glance at him and frown.
“What?”
“Are you going to tell me you’ve had a crush on me for years, too?”
He laughs. “Who told you that?” But before I can answer he shakes his head. “Holloway and Drake.”
“Yep. So if you have some kind of big confession, save it.”
“Noted.” He leaves his spot and collects a few empty bottles, carrying them over to the sink. A bottle of vodka has a tiny bit in the bottom. He places the top to his lips and swallows it, then grabs the faucet and rinses it out.
We work in silence, his long shirtsleeves pushed over his elbows. His forearms are long and lean, a muscular cut down the side. It’s disturbingly attractive and for a minute, I wish I hadn’t told him not to profess his feelings for me—whether he had them or not.
I grab the rinsed-out bottles. “Recycling?”
He rests two against his biceps and another four between his long fingers and nods toward the back door. “This way.”
I use my hip and my elbow to turn the door knob, which elicits a smile on his broody face. The recycling bins aren’t far from the door. I place the bottles I’m holding in, then turn to take the ones out of his arms before he drops them, and they shatter on the hard garage floor.
Our fingers brush as I take them away from him. Mine cold from the water—his warm, just because. I feel my own body heat rise from being near him. I remember my thoughts about him from the first day of school. I’m not into juvenile delinquents.
I tilt my head and look at him. Or am I?
That’s the thing about the last week. I’m definitely not sure about who any of us are anymore, myself included.
“What?” he says, frowning. “What’s that face for?”
“Just thinking about how the last week has changed my perspective on things—well, really, people.”
“Am I not living up to your preconceived notions, Keene?”
“Oh, you are,” I say, “revealing that you’d been secretly selling drugs to Rose for the last year kind of confirmed what I was thinking about you. I guess I was talking about myself.”
“You’re not living up to your preconceived notions about yourself.”
I exhale. “No, I guess not.”
He arches his eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”
My heart flips-flops at the way he’s looking at me. Intense. Determined. Interested. I glance over his shoulder and avoid his question, asking one of my own. “Is that your motorcycle?”
His expression lifts, the dark energy shifting into something lighter.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he says, his smile genuine. He walks over and runs his hand down the black leather seat, then rubs his thumb on an imaginary spot. “Want to go on a ride?”
I roll my eyes. “I can see the headline now, ‘Days after Thistle Cove darling goes missing, two lesser students crash head first into a tree after a night of drinking and debauchery at Baxter Manor.’”
He laughs. “Did you just make that up? That was very good.”
I walk across the room and stop a few feet from the leather and chrome. “I had an epiphany. Of our deaths. So as much as I would like to go for ride with you, I’m thinking tonight is probably not the best idea.”
He slings his long leg over the seat and rests his hands on the handlebars
. His muscles tense from the motion, his shirt stretching over his shoulders. I see the firm planes of his back and damn, his butt looks really good perched on the center of the seat.
He lifts his chin. “You know that’s why she ditched you, right?”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re logical and smart. Sensible. Rose wanted to run like fire was chasing her—and you wouldn’t have let her do it.”
“You’re saying I’m a wet blanket.”
He laughs. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“A wet blanket literally puts out a fire.”
“Then okay,” he grips the handle bars, “maybe you are a wet blanket, but that’s not a bad thing, KK, we all need someone looking out for us. Look what happens when we don’t?”
He shifts forward and pats the seat behind him. I hesitate because there’s no way to sit on that bike without getting very, very, close to him. I don’t think Ezra likes me—not the way that Finn and Ozzy say they do, but there’s something between us. A spark. Something that, for once in my life, I don’t want to automatically douse.
Without looking at him, I walk over to the bike and lift my leg, unsure how to get on.
“I don’t bite, KK,” he says, knowing I have no choice but to hold on to him for balance. I reach out and touch him, secretly marveling at his strong and steady back. When my leg is all the way over I sit on the cushion, trying my hardest to keep my distance, but the leather is soft and smooth. We both settle ass to crotch. I’m just glad I’m behind him and he can’t see how red my cheeks are.
His feet are flat on the ground and he says, “Give me your hands.”
“You want me to what?”
“Give me your hands, silly.” His chuckles softly. A moment later he reaches back and grabs them both, then pulls them around his waist. I’m yanked forward, making my body flush against his. “If you won’t go on a real ride with me, we can go on a pretend one.”
Did Ezra Baxter just ask me to go on a pretend motorcycle ride in his garage? And none of it was a euphemism for sex?
“Relax,” he says. “If you’re too tense on the ride, you can’t really enjoy it. I know it feels intimate, but it’s okay, I can handle you feeling me up, if you can.”
I laugh, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, but it makes me ease my grip around his waist and settle against him, resting my cheek against the warmth of his back.
“You have to close your eyes.” I shut them. “Done?”
“Yes, done.”
“Okay, tell me where you want to go, up the coast or into the mountains.”
“Up the coast,” I say.
“Perfect, you’ll love it.”
That’s how I spend the night with Ezra, leaning into the warmth of his body, listening as he ‘drives’ us up the winding roads of the coast, pointing out landmarks and describing them in intricate detail. I’m lulled by the sound and vibration in his voice rattling through his back. Along the way, somewhere near a lighthouse with black and white stripes, my preconceived notions about Ezra Baxter are stripped away, but this time I’m not confused, just content.
29
Kenley
I stand on Alice’s doorstep partly out of the need to make amends and partly out of just need.
Alice has something I need to borrow.
I raise my hand and rap on the red painted door. Her dog, Felix, jumps to life, barking furiously at the narrow window by the door. I bend down and greet him.
“Hey buddy, how are you?”
He keeps barking like he’s never seen me before in his life.
The door swings open and I stand, while Felix rushes out to greet me. He stops barking once he catches my scent, then licks the top of my sneakers. I bend and scratch his ears.
“What are you doing here?” Alice asks, reaching down and picking up the small white dog. He starts licking her neck. She’s still in her pajamas—the Star Wars print faded and worn.
“I wanted to talk.”
“I thought I talked too much. Or too loudly. Or too whatever for you.”
I take a deep breath. She’s not going to make this easy. “I’m sorry. Everything has been a complete mess this week. The stuff with Rose freaked me out, talking to the police, and then suddenly having Finn, Ozzy, and Ezra back in my life. As if that’s not enough, we’re still seniors have college applications and AP classes...” I swallow. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
She pets Felix. “Well, I probably should have watched my mouth.”
I snort. “Yeah, probably.”
She laughs and like that, things are a little easier.
“Want to come in?” she asks.
“Yeah, that’d be cool.”
I step in the foyer, the same as a million other times, and we head straight to Alice’s room. My friend may be many things; brash, a little jealous, fun, but most of all she’s a nerd. Her walls are covered in posters from her favorite TV shows and movies. There’s the anime streak, the Supernatural time period, Star Wars (original and new) and various other fandoms she’s dabbled in. In the corner is a big cabinet that holds all her cosplay supplies.
That’s why I’m here.
“I told the police about Rose coming to see me at the pool,” I say, sitting on her bed. She sits across from me. Felix hops up, not willing to be left out. “I told them everything, including what she said.”
“Oh?” she asks, trying her hardest to sound indifferent.
“She apologized,” I tell her. “And asked me for her help.”
Her eyes pop open wide. “Tell me you didn’t forgive her.”
“I didn’t. I told her to leave.”
That earns a smile, but the knot in my stomach twists.
“I don’t know if she was sincere, but it really is possible she needed my help. I feel like shit for turning her away. What if I could have helped her?”
“Rose made her bed,” Alice says. “She cut you out of her life—hard core. She stole your friend and your crush. She moved on without you and for all those years you just took what she dished out.” She winces. “That’s what I hate the most about all of it, you know that, right? That you just took it.”
“I didn’t know how to fight back.”
“Which is why you have me.”
I laugh. She’s right.
“What’s going on with the boys? Ozzy? Ezra? Finn?”
“I don’t really know. It’s strange having them back in my life, like, did Rose really keep us apart? It seems weird, but the instant she’s gone we’re all tossed back together again.” I pick at a loose thread on her Supernatural quilt. It’s right in Dean’s ear. “We were all really close friends before Juliette showed up. I hate to use the word mourning, but,” I shrug, “it kind of makes sense that we’re mourning her together.”
“And that’s all it is?” she asks quietly.
Alice is my best friend, but if I’ve learned one thing this week, it’s that she can’t be trusted with sensitive subjects. And I have no freaking idea what’s going on with me and Ozzy and Finn or even Ezra. I need more time to figure it out on my own.
“Yeah,” I say honestly, because it very well may be true, “I think that’s all it is.”
That seems to appease her, which isn’t a surprise. Alice is a jealous, possessive person, and adding in three new friends--two who had been my quasi-enemies until recently--wouldn’t be easy for her to accept.
“Hey,” I say, rubbing Felix’s belly, “Do you have a wig I can borrow? I have this stupid video for Spanish due on Monday.”
There’s a beat. One where I wonder if she’s going to ask more questions, and if I’ll be able to convincingly tell a lie. Because not only is what I need the wig for a secret from Alice, it’s a secret from everyone.
Fortunately, Alice doesn’t give a shit what I want the wig for—she’s just excited to talk about her favorite thing.
“Did you ask if I have a wig?” A smile tugs at her lips and she
jumps off the bed and opens the cabinet. Inside is a well-organized explosion of wigs, clothing, shoes, and accessories for a dozen different costumes. “The bigger question is what color are you looking for?”
I reach for a black one with long, shoulder-length hair and thick, sweeping bangs. With one hand, I twist my hair into a bun and pull it on.
“That’s from my Wonder Woman costume,” she says, brushing aside the bangs. “If you’re going for sexy Amazonian princess, you’ve picked the perfect one.”
“Sounds exactly like what I need to give my Spanish Tourism guide video the extra boost for an A.”
She laughs and tucks a fallen strand of hair back into the wig. It’s a nice moment. Too bad all of it is a lie.
“You’re planning on staying home tonight, right?” Mom says as she slips her arms into her coat.
“Yep. No plans.” I smile reassuringly. “You look great in that dress.”
“Oh,” she says, looking down at the fancy black dress with a sequined top, “thank you. I hope it’s not too dressy for the fundraiser.”
“It’s perfect,” I assure her, as though I have any clue what kind of outfit is acceptable for a political campaign event-turned missing child fundraiser.
“Your father is already out in the car. Keep the doors locked and text me if you have a change in plans.”
“No plans other than binge watching that new Netflix series.”
She smiles and kisses my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Kenley.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I don’t feel the slightest pang of guilt. Does that make me a monster?
I wait until the car pulls out the driveway and peer through the window, making sure the Holloways have also left. The whole town is going to the fundraiser tonight. Poor Mayor Carson. He was already in for a tough race against Brice Waller. Throw in the sympathy vote and he should drop out now.
I see a shadow move across the front window of Finn’s house and grab my coat. I’m pulling it on when he walks out on his front porch.
“Need a ride?” I offer from the shadow of my own steps.