by J. A. Huss
He leans down until his warm breath skates across my ear. “We are partners, Sash. In every sense of the word. You were given to me, so you’re mine. But I’m not putting up this big resistance as a pretense, you understand. I’m doing this to change the future for all the Company kids who come after us. So if you think I’m bound to that promise your father gave under duress when you were born, you’re wrong. I don’t need a promise to get a wife. I’m quite capable of getting married all on my own. So”—his hand slides around the back of my neck and his fingertips slip up into my hair, sending chills down my whole body—“let’s just forget that promise right now and be together because we like each other.”
He smiles as I stare dumbly up at him and then he laughs and lets go of my head. His fingers slip through my hair, dragging against the sensitive skin of my scalp. And then they are gone. “Sasha Cherlin, I have something cool to tell you. Do you want to hear it?”
I swallow. “Is it something good?”
He nods and smiles. “Yeah. Come sit.” He walks over to the edge of the bed and sits down, then pats the mattress for me to follow.
I sit, but not too close. I don’t really know what’s happening.
“I was bumming around up in the mountains in Wyoming. Way the fuck out by Bighorn Lake. You know it, right?”
I shoot him a look. “Everyone knows where Bighorn Lake is.”
He laughs. “So I was up there in the mountains and I was so fucking lost. But there was like this park access road, so I walked up this road to the top of a hill and do you know what was up there?”
I shake my head as I stare into his eyes. He’s excited to tell me this and that makes me excited with him. “What was it?”
“That medicine wheel thing you were talking about last summer. Remember that?”
My throat starts to sting and my eyes start to water. “I was just talking to James about that a few days ago.”
“Huh,” Nick says, smiling. “I saw it.” He looks over at me and then his hand grips my shoulder and he flops backwards on the bed, taking me with him. We sigh together. “It was pretty cool. You’re gonna love seeing it.”
“I’m not going,” I say quickly. “I don’t want to go.” He says nothing to that. Just lets the silence take over until I feel the need to explain. “My dad was gonna take me this summer. I don’t want to see it with anyone else.”
“Hmmm. I can see your point. I mean, your dad would probably be mad if you went without him, don’t you think?”
I tisk my tongue. “Just don’t.”
“What? That’s your reason, right?”
I stare up at the ceiling.
“Because I know your dad was like that. All pissy about you being happy without him.”
“I know it makes no sense to you, but it does to me. There’s just no one else I want to see it with.”
Nick turns his head to the side. “Sasha,” he says. I turn mine too, and our faces are but a few inches apart. “I love you.”
I feel the tears well up.
“I love you and I only want what’s best for you. I want you to go to school. And live in a house. And never pick up a gun again. I want you to wear dresses and go to dances. And have dates with boys who take you to eat hamburgers. I want you to study dinosaurs and travel the world looking for clues about the past that no one else cares about.”
He stops and swallows. Like he needs to build his courage up. Another tear streaks across my face until his fingertips intercepts it just as it rounds my nose.
“And once you’ve done all that without me, you’re gonna realize that you can love more than once in a lifetime.”
“You’re going to be there with me,” I blurt as the tears pour out. “You’re my promise.”
He shakes his head. “The promise is over. You have to forget about it. You have to move forward and forget about it. And if your dad was here, he’d tell you to go see that medicine wheel.”
“We can go together, Nick. We can go up there together and you can show it to me.”
But he’s shaking his head before I’m even done. “I’m not going back.”
“I’m not going back either.”
He huffs out a small breath of air. I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sign of resignation. “Are you hungry?”
I nod.
“What do you want?” He stares at me. Stares into me.
“Pancakes,” I whisper.
“Then pancakes you shall have. I’ll go get them and you take a shower.”
And then he gets up and walks to the table to pick up his keys. “Get up,” he calls as he walks to the door. “I’ll be right back with the food.”
I get in the shower and let the hot water blast down on me. I’m just rinsing off the conditioner in my hair when I hear the room door open and close. I finish rinsing and then step out of the shower, wrapping the towel around me tightly. The room door opens and closes again and I peek my head out of the bathroom. “Nick?”
There’s no one in the room.
“Nick?”
I walk out and spot the food on the table. It’s wrapped up tightly in a plastic bag to keep it warm. But it’s what’s next to the food that stops my heart.
Money.
I walk over and pick it up, counting in my head. Four hundred dollars. There’s a folded piece of paper underneath the money and even though I do not want to pick that paper up and read what he wrote, I know I have to.
My hands tremble as I read his words.
Dear Sash,
I’m so sorry. But you and Harper—you two are the only reason I’m doing this. And if I took you with me, I’d be just as bad as my father. I’d be just as bad as James. I’m coming back, don’t worry. I paid the room up for two weeks and I’ll be back. I’ll find you a home, Sasha. I swear. You’re gonna have that life I told you about. Just stay here. Don’t call anyone. Don’t leave. Just please, stay here so I know you’re safe.
I can’t be your promise, it’s wrong. But you’re the only girl I’ve ever wanted. I hope you know that.
Nick
I cry silent tears as I read it over and over again. I never get dressed, just fall back on the bed in my towel as I try and come to terms with what’s happening to my life.
I am thirteen years old.
I’m homeless.
My family is dead.
James might be dead.
Harper is in big trouble.
My promise walked out on me.
Can it get any worse?
I have no idea how long I lie there before I get up and fish my phone out of my pocket and call Merc.
“Yeah,” he says after picking up on the first ring.
“I need you to come get me.”
“I’m on my way to Jackson. I’m out, man. You and Nick are gonna have to figure this shit out yourselves. I know when to cut my losses.”
“Nick left me in a hotel in Rock Springs. He’s going to save Harper himself and get that file back. How can you be out? You have the other half of the file.”
He’s silent for a few moments and then he lets off a long sigh. “If I come get you, we’re heading to my place in Jackson.”
“No,” I say firmly. “We’re heading to Santa Barbara where Nick thinks they took Harper. You owe me, Merc. You owe me. And this is what I want. I want to go to Santa Barbara and help Nick.”
“Kid, we’re gonna need an army to help Nick now. They are dead serious about killing us and going to meet them on their own territory is one of the more stupid ideas Nick has had lately.”
“I don’t care. I’m in, Merc. I have very few good things to hold on to in my life. James, Harper, and Nick are pretty much all I have left. And I’m not gonna let him go fix this shit alone. OK? So come get me.
Nothing but silence on the other end. But then Merc grumbles. “Fuck. I’m like two hours away. Where the hell are you?”
I tell him the name of the hotel and then I hang up and get dressed. I eat the pancakes because they came from Nick
, but I have to force them down. And then I stuff the money in my pocket along with the room key and sit in front of the window until Merc’s truck pulls up in the parking lot.
I walk out the door and climb in the passenger side.
Merc takes out a smoke and lights it up, blowing smoke rings out the window as we head back out on the highway. “Do you know where the Santa Barbara place is? Because I sure don’t.”
I sigh. “I shouldn’t know. But I do.”
He laughs. “That’s the story of your life, kid.”
Ain’t that the truth? “We need an army, you said?” I look up at him, but he’s staring straight ahead. “I know where we can get an army.”
“I bet you do.”
And then he slides his shades down his face and turns up the music.
PART TWO
Chapter Eleven
Harper
The rolling of the ship eases me out of my slumber.
I’m home.
That thought bounces around my head for several seconds before I remember this is not home. I’m on my father’s yacht. I don’t open my eyes and I don’t stop breathing heavily. Instead, I give off a long sleepy sigh and turn over. I crack one eye to figure out if I’m alone in the room.
“How are you feeling?” my father asks.
Not alone.
“It’s wearing off, Harper. The doctor gave you a drug to make it wear off. I hope you realize we only drugged you so that Tet would leave quietly. But you became combative the last few times we brought you out of it—”
The last few times?
“—and since you’ve been known to make rash and dangerous decisions, we were forced to subdue you.”
Well. Since there’s no use pretending I’m still asleep, I open both my eyes. He’s staring down at me and he looks worried, but then he smiles.
I hate to admit that it’s reassuring. He’s my father. It’s hard to turn that off.
“How are you feeling?” he asks again. “OK?” His smile makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up. My father is handsome, even at fifty-one. His hair is not gray, it’s still dark and it’s still thick. His suit, however, is gray. And his tie is navy blue. When I was a girl I always loved to touch them. “Harper, answer me.”
I pause for a few seconds and then nod. “I’m OK.”
His smile grows and I get a warm feeling that I don’t immediately understand. I mean, who is this man? How can he call himself my father when he’s part of this organization and all they want is to marry me off?
“We’re having dinner in an hour. I’ve had them prepare your favorites to welcome you home.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I look away.
“Harper,” he says sternly so I refocus on him. “I’m glad you’re home.”
I don’t know what to say to that either.
“Did you even miss me?”
Why is he asking me these things?
“Because this ship was not the same without you two.”
I look up at him for that. “Is Nick here?”
“No.”
I look away.
“He’s hiding. But once he hears you’re back, he’ll come for you, Harper. I know he will.”
“So I’m a trap to catch him?”
“Why in the world do you think I’m trying to catch him? He’s a grown man now. He can do as he pleases. I admit, he’s messed up my plans for you two. But I’m not wholly dissatisfied about that.”
I glance at him again. “You’re not?”
“Why would I be unhappy that you were not given away on your birthday, Harper? I love you. I might not have been the perfect father, but I was present more than most parents in this modern world. I did my business on the ship to stay near you. I really do not understand where this distrust comes from.”
“You promised me to someone.”
“I had to. It’s required. Which is why I’m not upset that didn’t happen.”
“James said you promised me to him.”
“Tet is mistaken.”
“I remember him, though. From the beach party when we turned Six.”
“He said no, Harper. I gave him the opportunity and he said no. That was the end of it for me.”
“But you sent for him every year.”
This makes him hesitate. “Tet told you that?”
“James told me that.”
My father sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “It would be a very big mistake to mix them up, Harper. James is not Tet, and Tet is not James.”
I get a really sick feeling in my stomach at that comment. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s insane. He’s been this way for a very long time. Years.”
“Then why is he still working?”
My father smiles like he feels sorry for me. “Let’s catch up over dinner. OK? Can you sit up?”
“I’m sure I can.”
“I’d like you to sit up so I can make sure you’re not dizzy.”
I huff out a long sigh and then wiggle around until I prop myself up. I am dizzy, so I close my eyes and his steadying hand is on my shoulder. “I’m OK,” I say. But there’s something poking me in the butt, so I reach around and pull out my cell phone.
I look up at my father and wait for him to take it away.
He shrugs. “You’re a grown woman, you’re not a prisoner here, Harper. If that’s your phone, you are welcome to use it.” He lets that sink in for a few seconds, and then he nods and walks towards the cabin door. “One hour, Harp. Clean up and dress nicely, please.”
And then he and the doctor walk out, closing the door behind them.
I sigh again and look around. It’s my same room. This is my favorite yacht. The sailing ship.
Why is he being so nice? Not that my father was ever abusive towards me, but I poisoned thirteen people when I left. I ran away with no explanation.
It’s true he never paid much attention. He was certainly never this doting. But this whole act right now seems to be one of… concern.
Is it real? Is it possible that Nick led me to believe we were in danger from him for reasons that were unfounded?
Do I need to start questioning my trust in my twin?
I don’t have the energy for it. The drugs might be wearing off, but my head isn’t working right. I feel a little sick. And the slight rolling motion of the yacht is not helping.
I look down at the phone and press the little button to wake it up. There’s a message from James.
I look around nervously. I can’t believe my father would just let me receive messages like this. I mean, I don’t get it. He said I’m not a prisoner, but you don’t drug someone and force them to come aboard your ship if they’re not being kidnapped.
But then again he’s my father and this is… was… might still be… my home. Is it really kidnapping?
I open the message and read it.
I’m sorry.
I bet he is. Asshole. I want to talk to him, but not yet. I need to have dinner to clear my head and think straight. I need to get a grip on what’s happening.
I swing my legs over the side of the bunk and stand up, stumbling my way to the head attached to my cabin. I’m not used to being on a ship anymore and it both frightens and thrills me that I’ve lost my sea legs. Frightens me because that was my whole life before I left. The sea. The ship. The sailing. I don’t want to lose that part of me. It’s who I am.
But I’m excited about having been away for so long. Living at the beach. Seeing the world from the opposite perspective. Living on my own.
That makes me smile. And yes, I was quite the mess for most of that. But I did it.
I’m excited that I met James and had sex. Jesus. If my dad found out about that, I’m not sure what he’d do. I don’t think James was sent to fuck me.
I really want to talk to him and it’s killing me to wait. But I need to play this right. I feel like I’m part of a game. I’m a chess piece. I’m a card that’s being held or played. I�
�m not quite sure.
But I do know one thing. Actions have consequences. I can’t afford to mess this up.
So dinner it is. It’s late, I know that. Because when I look out my porthole, I see nothing but black. The ship is rocking some, but it doesn’t feel like we’re moving, so we must still be in port.
OK. So I need to dress and go above deck for dinner.
I walk to my locker and open it. I recognize a few things. A bathing suit. Some flipflops. A beach bag. But other than that, the dresses are all new. I have six. One for each night of the week. This is how it’s always been. One dress for each day I’m expected for dinner. We never had dinner on Sundays so I never needed seven dresses. And that kinda set the standard for how many sets of clothing I required. I have six pairs of shorts folded neatly on a shelf. And six tank tops on the shelf above. I have two pairs of shoes besides the flip flops. One fancy, one casual.
James asked me if I was spoiled and I said yes. But that’s only because of how I was brought up. Not what I was given. I’ve never had an abundance of things. There’s just not enough room on a ship, even one this size, for collections.
We went shopping six times a year. Every two months. And on each trip a new wardrobe was purchased for me. Six of this, six of that. Six, six, six. My life has always been about sixes.
How strange.
I mean, there’s seven days in a week. Why not seven outfits?
I push the hangers aside so I can take a look at each option, and then choose a light yellow sun dress that has a beige knitted cropped sweater that barely covers my shoulders.
I slip on the fancy sandals. No heel. That’s only practical for a young lady on a boat, the nanny had explained why I couldn’t have stilettos as footwear. And then I look at myself in the mirror on the inside of the locker.
I have no idea who this girl is.
She’s not Harper Tate who left here last year. That girl never ran away and changed her name. Or had her own apartment in Huntington Beach. Or had a beautiful man face-fuck her in a hallway.
That girl was a virgin and this girl is not.
God, I miss James. An overpowering, stabbing pain weighs down on my chest. Not a physical pain. But one that twines with my mind and can only be described as… heartbreak.