by Jillian Dodd
Cheers.
I’m just opening the script when a notification pops up telling me I have an incoming call from Brooklyn.
I immediately answer it, praying it’s actually him.
That’s he’s overtaken Vincent and is free.
Or that Garrett found him.
I say a quick prayer then open my eyes.
To find Vincent staring back at me.
“You called yesterday?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I reply. My eyes are fixed to the screen, trying to scan the background for any possible clue or indication to where he may be keeping Brooklyn.
At the same time, I’m patting the bed, searching for my phone. I have to record this.
Put your hands where I can see them,” Vincent orders.
I hold my hands up. “Why?”
“Because I need to know you’re not recording this.”
“Why, are you going to say something incriminating?”
“No, I was seeing what you wanted. You called me last night.”
“I’m coming back to Malibu. I’m ready to make the movie.”
He smiles a genuine smile, looking like the Vincent who I thought was my friend. “Really? When?”
“I’m flying in from New York on Sunday,” I lie. “Where should I meet you?”
“I think you know.”
“On the beach?”
He nods.
“I want to talk to Brooklyn.”
“I’m afraid he’s unavailable at the moment.”
“Is he alive, Vince?”
“Yes, Lacy, he’s alive. We’re just waiting for you to join us.”
I nod, end the call, and immediately open the script and read the ending.
While they are chatting, Vincent notices something hanging from her bedpost. It’s a sash.
He takes a screenshot of it to blow up later. He starts to laugh at his own joke—about blowing it up later. Definitely foreshadowing.
After they hang up, he goes to the screenshot, blows it up, and easily makes out the words, Eastbrooke. A quick Internet search pulls up an Eastbrooke Academy in Connecticut.
And there on the front page is a video for perspective students, featuring her. He watches the video a few times, mesmerized by her.
Then he sits down and meticulously plans it all out. Just like an expensive movie stunt, the timing and execution of the plan is critical.
He draws a map with four circles on it symbolizing each bomb. One for Tommy Steven’s set trailer in New York City. Bye, bye, step daddy. One at the country house in France. Bye, bye, whore and her little spawns. One at his grandmother’s house. He stops and taps his pencil on the paper, second-guessing himself. He really doesn’t want to blow up his grandmother’s house. He glances at the lump lying on the mattress and knows he has no choice. Production has started, and he can’t change the script. If Vince is going to win Lacy, the world must believe that Matt is behind all the destruction.
But in case he doesn’t succeed or gets caught, he has to make sure there’s no evidence tying him to any of it. So bomb number four will be here, set to go off later than the others.
His eyes flit around the room, each photo urging him to continue in his quest for love. All of the photos agree.
Lacy and Vince belong together.
Vincent watches the video a few more times, this time memorizing the faces of Lacy’s friends along with their names.
He’s setting the final pieces of his plan in motion when Matt wakes up from another drug-induced nap. “I know where she is.”
Brooklyn blinks his eyes and watches the video playing on the screen. Keatyn is in it. At her school. What was she thinking doing something like that and putting it on the Internet?
“It’s just a commercial she was paid to do,” Brooklyn lies unconvincingly.
“You knew where she was and didn’t tell me,” Vincent states.
Brooklyn pulls himself up to a sitting position and nods defiantly.
Vincent smiles at him, surprised at the boy’s willingness to endure pain for someone he cares about. But it’s something he understands all too well. “You love her,” he says.
Brooklyn nods again.
“You will be reunited soon. I’m going to get her.”
“You won’t succeed,” Brooklyn snarls back. “She has security, body guards. The school is a fortress.”
“You should pray that I succeed,” Vincent says calmly.
“Why?”
“I’ve calculated how much time it will take to bring her back and included some leeway. If I succeed, you will be reunited with her, and filming will commence. But if I don’t—” Vincent pauses dramatically.
“If you don’t, what?”
Vincent shows him the bomb. “You will burn.”
He gives Matt a larger dose of medication than he has before, hoping it won’t kill him. As he’s shoving the needle into his arm, Matt attempts to fight back.
This surprises Vincent, who reels backwards and drops the syringe. Matt jumps on top of him, beating him with his tied together hands.
Pure rage blurs Vincent’s vision. He will not let this little worthless piece of shit get between him and Lacy. He pulls them both up off the ground. Matt comes at him, but Vince hits him on the back of the head with the briefcase that the bomb will go inside. Matt crumples to the ground.
Vincent looks up at Lacy on the wall. “It’s just you and me now,” he says.
He throws Matt onto the mattress, finishes giving him his shot, and takes the bomb and the briefcase out of the safe room, locking it behind him.
He gets the bomb’s timer set, checks to make sure the old man is still dead, and feeds the dog. The dog kisses his hand.
He pats the dog’s head. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”
Vincent’s flight to Connecticut is filled with turbulence, and he hopes it’s not a forewarning of things to come. Keatyn calls Garrett at the same time Vincent lands.
Even though it’s late, I call Garrett.
“I just got the new script!” I tell him.
“Keatyn, what time is it there?”
“I don’t know. Late. Were you sleeping? Did I wake you?”
“I was taking a quick nap. It’s okay. What did you learn?”
“Well, first off, Vincent changed the name of the movie to A Day at the Beach. He added a bunch of special effects things that I sort of skimmed over but—have you ever seen the original?”
“It’s been quite a few years but, yes.”
“So, in the original, Vince was the killer. He had a major crush on Lacy—Mom’s character—and it was his house on the lake. At the end, you figure out he’s the bad guy because he tries to kill Matt, who is Lacy’s boyfriend. You think Matt is dead and Vince is being all creepy and trying to get Lacy. You find out that he wants Matt gone because he wants Lacy to go on a semester abroad with him. But Matt staggers back up, kills Vince, saves the day, and rides off with the girl.”
“How is the new script different?”
“Well, first of all, it’s set on a beach, not a lake. Vince now has a dog, which is a classic writer’s trick for making a bad character more lovable. The big twist, though, is that Vince kidnaps Matt, kills everyone, frames Matt for the murders, has him arrested in front of Lacy, and when the police take him away, Vince professes his love to Lacy and they kiss. The end. The bad guy gets the girl. Bring on the sequel.”
“And you think his script translates to real life?”
“Yes, I think Vincent thinks the movie is real life. He told me he had the dog and he had Matt.”
“So you think he’s going to kill people and set Brooklyn up to take the fall?”
“Yes.”
“And then he’s going to ride off into the sunset with you?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Do you still think he’ll kill you?”
“If he does, I think he’ll kill himself too. Just know that no matter what the evidence looks li
ke, Brooklyn didn’t do it.”
“Got it. Now get some sleep.”
As soon as Vincent had found out where Keatyn was, he called Hondo and asked him for help in figuring out the school’s weakness. Hondo told him it’s the same everywhere, even at the White House. They have to get food and supplies in and out. That’s how you’ll get in.
He promises to have more information the following morning, and when he calls Vincent, who is pacing in his hotel room, he has good news. Through his contacts, he was able to discover that a produce company has a delivery scheduled for today. He just has to get control of the truck.
Vincent hijacks the truck at its stop before Eastbrooke, kills the driver then tosses his body into a dumpster. The back of the truck is almost empty as the school is his last stop of the day. Vincent tosses the rest of the produce crates into the trash on top of the man. Then he makes his way to the school.
The next afternoon, Keatyn is in her room, packing a few things in her backpack.
I stop to run my hand across the prefect badge on the shirt that’s still lying on my bed, trying not to cry. I wish I was coming back to use it.
I shake my head and focus on the task at hand.
Then I go meet Dallas. He’s walking with me to the chapel, where we’ll sneak down to Stockton’s.
Riley and Aiden went into town to get pizza, so I have a small window of opportunity to stash my backpack down there without anyone knowing I’m planning to leave tonight.
“You’re not thinking of running away, are you?” Dallas asks.
I hate to lie to him, but I do. I hold up my backpack and say, “I’m taking this down there, just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“Garrett reneges on his promise. We agreed to seven days. But I can see him trying to keep me here longer than that.”
“And if he does?”
“Then I’ll sneak out of Stockton’s, go home, and try to find Brooklyn myself.”
Vincent can’t believe his luck. As he’s making his way up the hill toward a chapel, he spots her. She’s walking with the boy named Dallas. There aren’t many other students around. This is it!
He parks the van, jumps out of it, and sneaks up behind them, hitting the boy on the back of the head with his gun, causing him to crumple to the ground.
“Ugh,” Dallas says.
Keatyn turns around, still not knowing he’s right behind her. So close that he can smell her sweet scent. “Dallas! Are you—”
“Keatyn!” a man yells out from across the street. I waste no time, raising the gun and firing, hitting him twice in the chest.
Then I grab my prize, wrapping my arm around her neck. “Eastbrooke Homecoming Court, huh. Congratulations.”
Oh my god. I forgot all about the Homecoming Court sash that’s been hanging off my bedpost since October. He must have seen it during our video call last night. I was so focused on trying to find a clue on his screen that I never even looked at mine.
I’m an idiot. I led him straight to the one place I wanted so badly to protect.
“This looks like a fancy place,” Vincent continues, “but their security is pretty lax. I drove right through. I mean, after I shot the three guards.”
Ohmigawd.
He’s going to shoot anyone who gets in his way.
I have to get him out of here—and fast.
“Where’s Brooklyn?” I ask him.
“He’s fine. A little tied up at the moment,” he says again with a maniacal laugh, pressing a gun into the small of my back and pushing me toward a white delivery van.
“You don’t have to push me, Vincent. I want to come with you.”
“Don’t move,” he says, keeping the gun trained on me while he lifts Dallas up and puts him in the back of the van.
I’ve got to convince him not to take Dallas, I think, as I’m hit on the back of the head and everything goes black.
Vincent loads Keatyn into the back of the van. Not the best accommodations for his star, but he doesn’t have time to worry about that right now. He’s shot four people, and it won’t be long before someone notices. He gets into the van, and having left it running simply throws it into drive and hits the gas. He races down the hill, not caring if anyone gets in his way. He rushes through the gates, thankful they are still open, and barely hits the brakes, cutting the corner and nearly sideswiping a white Maserati. No wonder she likes it here. Kids with money—just like L.A.
His watch beeps, and he smiles, knowing that the bombs are about to start going off.
He looks in the rearview mirror at Keatyn lying prone in the back of the van and says, “We’re still going to Egypt together, Lacy. And it will be perfection.”
Riley and Aiden had picked up a bunch of pizzas and are turning into the Eastbrooke driveway when a white delivery van barrels around the corner, almost hitting them.
“What the hell?” Aiden yells.
“Wonder what delivery he needs to make in such a big hurry?” My phone rings with a call from Dawson. I answer it as Aiden flips a U-turn. “What’s up, bro?”
“Keatyn and Dallas were just kidnapped! Thrown in the back of a white van! The guy shot Cooper when he tried to stop it!”
“A white van almost hit us . . . Wait!” I see that, somehow, Aiden already knew. He’s racing down the road. But I still say, “That delivery van. Keatyn and Dallas are in there. Kidnapped. Cooper shot!”
I know what I say doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’m all hyped up. Panicked. “Follow them! We can’t lose them!”
“Tell me what happened!” Aiden yells as he’s gunning the engine and slamming through the gears.
I plug my phone into Aiden’s car, so we can both hear Dawson.
“Dawson, you’re on speaker. Tell us what happened.”
“All I know is I heard gunfire, ran toward it, saw Cooper hit the ground. Dallas was already down. The guy was talking to Keatyn. He held a gun on her as he put Dallas in the van and then hit her on the back of the head with the gun, threw her in the back, and took off. Brooke called 911 and the school is on lockdown.”
“He got a head start on us, but we’ll catch him if we go the right way,” I say to Aiden.
“We have to go the right way,” Aiden replies. “Think. Where would he take them?”
“Keatyn was going back to Malibu tonight to find Brooklyn.”
“What do you mean? They wouldn’t let her leave.”
“She found a secret way out of school through Stockton’s.”
“Was she going to tell me?” He stops staring at the road and turns to me, fire in his eyes. “Were you going to tell me? Were you going to let her go?”
I hang my head a little. “I was going with her.”
Aiden shakes his head. “She said he wanted to film a movie with her. The script she got was set in California. She didn’t think he’d hurt Brooklyn until after they filmed the movie. So, if she was right, he’d take her back to California. So the airport?”
“I think so, but the highway’s right there!” I point to the turn off, which we are closing in on way too fast. “Slow down!”
Aiden handles his car perfectly, tapping the brakes, and then veering us onto the highway.
He barely even slowed down.
Fuck if I’m not impressed with his driving skills.
“We have a problem,” Aiden says. “I’m almost out of gas.”
“Then we have an even bigger problem,” I tell him. “Keatyn may not have on her tracking necklace. She didn’t want anyone to know when she’d left. God, why did I go along with her plans?”
“Because you’re a good friend,” Aiden says. “But we can’t worry about that now. We’ve got to find that van or they’ll both be dead. They’ve been searching for Brooklyn for three days with no luck.”
“We can’t call Cooper. He got shot. I don’t have Garrett’s number. Do you?”
I watch as Aiden takes one hand off the wheel and runs his finger over the clover keychain Keatyn
gave him. When I look back at the road, I see it in the distance, up ahead.
“The van!” we both yell at the same time.
Vincent notices the white Maserati racing up from behind him. As they get closer, he recognizes them as Riley and Aiden—two of the boys from the video. Riley was introduced along with the other boy as one of her best friends. Aiden, on the other hand, clearly had a mad crush on her. Not that he blames him for that. Pretty soon, the whole world will feel that way.
Vincent doesn’t even care if the boys know about his cargo. Their car might be faster, but it’s no match for the van in weight. If they try to get close to him, he’ll shoot them, shoot out their tires, or even ram into them. Bye, bye, Maserati.
“Get close to it so we can get the license plate. I’m calling Senator McMahon.”
“You know he didn’t come for Dallas.”
“It doesn’t matter who he wanted. Kidnapping Dallas was the wrong move.”
The senator answers his private line after a few rings.
“Riley,” he barks. “This is the number you are supposed to call only in an emergency.”
“It is an emergency, sir. Dallas and Keatyn have been kidnapped from Eastbrooke and are in the back of a white van. A teacher was shot.”
“I need to make a call on the other line. Hold on.”
“Grab my phone,” Aiden says. “Take a picture of the back of the van and the license plate.”
“Are you sure it’s the same van?”
“Yep. It says Charlie’s Produce on it. But, look, there’s no plate.”
“Riley,” Mr. McMahon’s voice booms through Aiden’s speakers. “I have the Service on the line. Did the van leave school? Do you know what direction it was headed? License plate? Description of the assailant?”
“We’re following the van right now. Keatyn usually wears a tracking device, but we don’t know if she has it on. We need to reach Garrett Smith, but don’t have his phone number. We believe the kidnapper is Vincent Sharpe, Keatyn’s stalker; the guy from the club in Miami. But we’re not sure.”