by Fields, MJ
Savvy Sutton.
Chapter 23
“Instead of putting others in their place,
put yourself in their place.”
~Amish Proverb
Patrick
The week before school ended, Savvy began talking about really wanting to find out where Liberty went after dumping her off here. She told me that, after her mother died, there were sometimes weeks when Liberty only left the van to pee. She admitted it was frightening, that there were times when she went without eating for a couple days. And now, instead of being angry, she thinks what Liberty did by leaving her here was the right thing. She is pretty sure she has a mental health issue and would like to see her get some help. She wants her to know that she wasn’t alone, and then she thanked me for showing her that she wasn’t either.
She is also considering trying to find out who her father is. She doesn’t want him or anyone else to know because, if he’s a horrible human being, which she suspects he is, she doesn’t want to carry that in her heart for the rest of her life. I offered to get help from my parents or my uncles —hell, they do background checks on everyone they hire, and my uncles are in the security business—but she was adamant that she would be furious if I asked them and that, for now, they were under the blanket of “anyone else.”
She plans to spend time with my family and knows it is going to be a huge adjustment, one that’s already causing her anxiety, but because she loves me, she’s going to work hard to overcome it.
It fucking sucks that she’s been through all that shit in her seventeen years, but it also makes her stronger than she knows, and so much better than those who have known no struggles.
I’m glad that my parents aren’t uppity fucks, that they don’t shelter me, or act like anything could wash through the shore and take it all away in the blink of an eye and, God-willing, leave behind what matters the most—human beings.
She made me promise that I wouldn’t contact her. Even threatened to shut off her phone if I did. She told me I needed to focus on the people in my life who were here before her, and she mentioned that she felt Tris needed me the most right now. She also said that, as much as she loves and adores me, that she needs space at times. So, this is good.
“Doesn’t feel really fucking good,” I mumble as I look up at the ceiling in the room I share with the male cousins at our cousin Dominic’s family’s house.
“Try a tighter grip,” Max says through a yawn.
“Maybe spit in your hand. Feels more natural,” Amias chimes in. “And if that fails, there are sheep around here. Max confirmed the rumors are true on day three without Seashore ass.”
Max laughs. “Fuck you.”
“You have a better shot at catching that sheep again,” Amias sighs.
I laugh. “You two are supposed to become more chill as you get older.”
“And you’re supposed to stop needing to rub one out when sharing a room with other boys,” Max says.
“Max?”
“Yeah, Tricks?”
“Fuck off.” I sit up and scrub my hands over my face.
“Where you going?” Amias asks.
“Nowhere. Why?”
“Thinking tittie beach tomorrow,” he says.
“Yeah, perfect,” Max agrees. “We can get more pictures of Amias sporting wood while he looks at old ladies.”
“Tits are tits.”
“Bro, she was, like, eighty.”
“And she was flattered. I could possibly be the last man to look at her tits with admiration.”
I step off the bed. “You two need to pick a new type. Max, stay away from the livestock. Amias”—I shake my head—“you need to do some praying.”
“Why are you busting on me harder than Max?” he calls to me as I walk out.
I turn and look at him. “Because I know he’s not fucking sheep, but I know you have a fucked-up way of trying to make an old woman’s day.”
I grab my guitar and walk through the home toward the covered lanai that overlooks the winery. I sit down and begin playing the first thing that pops in my head, “Closer” by Halsey.
“You should take lessons,” comes from a dark corner, and I jump. “And lose the pussy. What the hell do you think’s out here besides grapes and family?”
“Are you smoking?” I ask Tris.
She flicks it in the yard. “Nope.”
“If that was a cigarette, I’ll call Truth out here to kick your ass. If it’s a joint—”
“You want a hit?” she says dryly.
“No, I wanna know who’s selling it to you.”
“Max’s girlfriends,” she says on an exhale.
“Which one?”
“They all look the same, but she’s usually in the south pasture. Reddish tint to her wool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Funny.”
“Yeah, if you would have let me finish that, it would have gotten better; trust me.”
I pick a few strings and ask, “What’s up with you?”
“Oh my God, Mom, I’m fine.” She starts to stand.
“Don’t pull that shit on me, Tris. I’m not your parents. Talk to me.”
“Nothing. Is. Wrong.”
“Sit,” I tell her.
She groans and crosses her arms.
“You fucking blew me out of the water at the talent show. That’s raw talent, and raw only happens when we’ve bled.”
“Save your pitch for someone who gives a fuck.”
“Okay, you wanna go that direction, we can. I was going to let you dish, take this at your own pace, but straight up, you think I don’t see shit and wanna step in, you’re wrong. I do. I see shit, and I hang back, because I know how important it is to work my own shit out. But you’ve been fucking miserable since the move. I saw the shit go down at the game.”
“By shit, you mean our two slutbag second cousins—”
“Okay, let’s take a walk.” I set my guitar down and walk over to her.
“Do you think I care if Dominic and Mel hear me talk about their sleezy-ass—”
I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder.
“I will fucking kick your ass.”
“You need to do that, you do it away from the house.”
“You think I’m gonna talk to you?” she huffs.
“Me or Max’s sheep,” I say, now jogging.
As soon as I think we’re far enough away, I drop her on her feet. By the light of the moon, I can see her tears.
I yank her into a hug, and she doesn’t try to beat the shit out of me. She screams into my chest, “I hate them!”
“Jesus, Tris, I am so sorry.”
“I hate them so much! I hate them so much, I swear to you, I am going to make them pay when they go to school at Seashore. I’m going to make them all pay.” Her body shakes as she cries.
“I need to know what’s up, Tris, and then I’ll figure out how to help you do just that.”
“They’re family!” Now she pushes me away. “None of you will do anything to them because of Forever Steel shit. So, don’t lie to me.”
“Not lying, Tris. One hundred percent promise you that we get down to the bottom of this hurt, betrayal, whatever happened, and I’m not Forever Steel. I’m Forever Tris.”
She slaps away her tears and nods.
“But we need to talk this shit through, get to the meat of it, bleed if we have to, and then we make a plan.”
“They’re fucking Marcello.”
“Wait—what? They’re, like, twelve.”
“They’re fifteen. Same as me, same as him.”
“So, that song was a big fuck you to him?”
She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. They’re moving to Seashore, and I want them gone.”
“Are they calling themselves a thrupple?”
“Apparently, they switch days.”
“Let’s sit down and talk through this.”
“I don’t want to talk anymore; I just want them to stay away from us.”
/> “This why you’re kissing on two different guys in the past two weeks?”
“When I get through them all, maybe I’ll start fucking around with girls, too.”
“To each their own, but I’m pretty sure you’re not a lesbian, Tris.”
“What makes you an expert?”
“Where you going with this?” I ask.
“You’re not the only one who sees things. And when she hurts you, I’ll make her bleed, too.”
“Let’s stay in your lane for a bit, Tris. I’m all good.”
* * *
One week in, and I’ve managed to keep Tris from killing anyone, and even gotten her to hold a guitar. Today was supposed to be Amias and Max’s day—the tittie beach. Thankfully, it’s raining, and the rain makes me tired, but so do talks until three in the morning with Tris, who still hasn’t figured out that Marcello is the one she should be the most pissed off at. He’s been her boyfriend since they were, like, four.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Max gasps as he looks at his phone screen.
“What’s wrong, Max? You find out your latest texting buddy has a dick?” Amias jokes.
“Dude, shit’s going down back at home. Check out The Sound app.”
“I don’t have the fucking app,” JT snaps, grabbing his phone.
I pull mine out of my pocket and scroll to the app.
What. The. Fuck?
“Tricks, you seeing this?” JT asks.
“Yeah, I’m seeing it, but something isn’t right. Savvy’s last name is Sutton.” I try to enlarge the picture, but it gets really blurry.
There’s no way in fuck they have that shit right. Savvy is with Chloe, and her name’s not listed.
I sit back and watch my phone, knowing she or Chloe would call or message if shit went south.
Justice is a fucking mess. He’s the new number one guy in the hierarchy, and the old number one is here, too, so the panic for them is real.
In less than an hour, my phone rings. I don’t know the number, but it’s our area code, so I stand up and leave the noisy room to answer the call.
“Hi, Patrick, you don’t know me that well, but my name is Millie.”
“Hey, Millie, this have anything to do with what’s going on at home?”
“Savvy’s in trouble.”
“She hurt?”
“No, but she’s gonna need help getting out of this one. That’s what Heather said. I don’t know the details, but—”
“Can you call me as the details come in, Millie? In the meantime, I’m gonna see about getting home.”
“Yes, of course, I will.”
As soon as I hang up, I hear them already planning on heading back. “I’m going, too.”
“Patrick, they got this,” Dad says from across the room.
“Millie just called and said Savvy is going to be in deep shit. None of them have shit, all scholarship, and if—”
Dad stands up. “Savvy Sutton isn’t her name, Patrick.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“Maybe an actual news article has it wrong and that high school app ran by a bunch of little assholes is right, but I’m gonna guess Savvy Sutton is the same girl as Savvy Sawiris, daughter of billionaire, Alwaleed Sawiris, from Saudi Arabia.”
“No, she’s a little hippie freakshow who hates corporate anything. And like I said, she needs—”
“I’ll check on her,” Justice interrupts.
“I’m not thinking any of you are hearing me. I’m fucking going. End of.”
The room falls silent, and all eyes are on me.
“Let’s fucking go.”
* * *
As soon as I pull onto campus, Chloe comes running toward me, sobbing and hugging me.
“She didn’t do it. She didn’t, and we have to get her out!”
“Grab your bags. You’re gonna come stay at my place. I’m hoping to have her out in the next couple hours. Dad’s working on it.”
“I don’t want to go back in there alone.” She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her. “I packed all her stuff. Most of it is in her van. Where is her van?”
“Getting towed to my house.”
Chloe drops my hand and pushes the front doors to MacArthur Hall open. “Bitch, you better fucking hide!”
“Chloe, chill the fuck out. That shit’s not going to help her.”
“She did this to Savvy, Patrick. She—”
“I’m doing all I can to hold this together, so I’m going to tell you one more time. Let’s get yours and Savvy’s stuff and get out.”
Within half an hour, all Savvy’s belongings are shoved into two garbage bags. The suitcase she has was taken by the police to be used as evidence.
Chloe has five bags and two suitcases.
Apparently, two weeks ago, Chloe and Savvy sat in their dorm room, talking about Liberty Smith and how she wanted to find her, how she knew she needed help, and how Savvy wanted to help her. I was told they searched the internet for her name. They looked through every page that contained the name and, when they found nothing, they moved on to social media.
Chloe said that Savvy decided to give up on the idea when they left for Chloe’s house.
A few days ago, Heather called Chloe and told her that a woman fitting Liberty’s description showed up on campus, looking for Savvy. Apparently, they drove straight back to Seashore, and Savvy was excited to see her again.
When they arrived, Heather told them that she said she’d be back by five.
Savvy being Savvy picked up on Heather acting far too nice and her eyes seemed crazier than ever. It made her nervous. So, they left and went to Crystal Lake to hang out, and Millie, the girl who contacted me, said she would call them if Liberty showed up.
She never showed up, but the local police and the FBI did.
Millie contacted Savvy and Chloe and told them to stay there, that she would try to find out more information.
By that time, the State boys were already tipped off and at Crystal lake, where Savvy was taken in for questioning about a twelve-year-old murder of a man named Denny Townley.
Through the crumpled-up paper left in the garbage, in which Heather gave to the police a few days prior, they had found Sandra Townley, the estranged wife of Denny or, as Savvy and her mother knew her as, Liberty Smith, who had an outstanding warrant for her arrest.
Savvy is being released today. They could only hold her for twenty-four hours. My parents hired a lawyer, who found out that, apparently, there’s a note that Sandra says was written by Savvy’s mother that states that Savvy was the one who hit him, which caused his death. That it was self-defense, because he was trying to rape her, resulting in his death.
She told me about this. She didn’t know he had died, and she never mentioned being sexually abused. I think she would have mentioned it, and I think she would have trusted me enough to tell me. I’m sure she would have.
No one believes anything the note says, but of course this shit takes time.
I haven’t been able to see her, Chloe hasn’t been able to see her, and the name in the paper was only sort of wrong. It shouldn’t have been printed either way, since she’s a minor, so that is also being addressed by the lawyer.
I haven’t slept since the news broke, and I won’t sleep again until I know she’s okay. And she will be okay.
When we pull into the driveway, there’s a vehicle I don’t recognize.
“Just leave the shit in here, and we’ll get it later,” I tell Chloe as I hop out.
Walking to the door, I tell her not to open her mouth, even if asked a question, without the lawyer okaying it.
She’s scared, and I know I’m not helping her at all, but right now, so am I.
When we walk in, I see Savvy sitting in a chair at the island, and I run to her, hugging her.
Her body shakes as she sobs into my chest, “I’m so sorry.”
I step back and squat down. “None of this is your fault, Savvy.”
“Guess w
hat?”
I wipe away her tears with my thumbs. “What?”
“My name’s not Savvy. My name’s Sutton. That’s what my real birth certificate says. Sutton Sawiris. I wasn’t born in Florida. I was born in Saudi Arabia.”
“You’re still Savvy to me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m Savannah to you. I’m Savvy to my mother and Liberty. Or, should I say, Sandra Townley, the woman who gave a note to the FBI from my mother, saying I was raped by Denny and I killed him when I was five years old! God, if that’s true, no wonder I hate men.”
“You see, you got it all wrong. None of that shit matters anymore, because the only thing you are is mine, and I’m yours. Everything else can fall away like the autumn leaves and—”
She pulls me against her as she sobs, “Don’t you see that none of that is real, Patrick? None of it. Because I’m not even real!”
I push her hair out of her eyes. “You know what you need? A bath, some food, and some sleep.”
“Your parents are home.”
“Yeah, well, his parents knew there was a kick-ass VW Bus hanging around when they weren’t home. I think they’ll be fine with it.”
Savvy looks up at Dad. “You may want to hide your cookware. Apparently, I’m a fucking murderer.”
Dad starts laughing, and I swing my head in his direction and glare at him. Then Savvy starts laughing, and I look back at her.
“Okay, everyone, it’s dinnertime shortly. What am I making?”
“She likes peanut butter blossoms.” Dad winks at her. “They’re my favorite, too.”
“Pretty sure we have about twelve dozen in the freezer from Christmas, so I’ll get those out and let them thaw.”
“Savvy, Chloe, you’re guests; tell me what you’d like.”
“Savvy likes pasta, but no meat,” Chloe says.
Chapter 24
“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.”
~Ecclesiastes
Savvy
Sitting at the Steel family’s dining room table, my knee bounces up and down. Patrick grips it and steadies it.