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Netted- Inside Out

Page 6

by K T Rose


  “Okay, okay, jeez. Calm down.”

  “Ooh,” St. Pete said.

  “Listen here, you fucking kid, don’t tell me to do shit. You do as I say. And in my opinion, I think you’re too young and dumb to be here. You’ll never be Marla.”

  Strangely, the quip bit at Jessica’s soul. Of course, she wasn’t Marla. No one was. She didn’t know Marla. But Father Paul saw Marla in Jessica somehow. Didn’t that make her somewhat special? Jessica rolled her eyes. Stay…in… your… lane. “Will I at least have a change of clothes?”

  “Yes, I also mentioned that too, by the way. But since I should calm down, maybe you can figure the rest of this shit out on your own.”

  “Do you want her to succeed?” St. Pete asked Hazel, a grin on his pale face.

  Hazel put her foot on the dashboard and pulled her knife from the side of her boot. She held it up and looked deep into it. She angled it to share her reflection with Jessica. “Nope. I hope she fails because this thing hasn’t sliced skin in a while.”

  “Uh oh!” St. Pete said. “Olive said she’s never seen you use it on anything other than boxes.”

  “I didn’t say that!” Jessica said. Her chest rattled as Hazel narrowed her eyes in the knife’s silver blade.

  “Are you sure? You know what we do to liars around the compound, right?” Hazel asked.

  “Snatch uvulas, throats, tongues…” St. Pete listed off.

  “Scalps,” Hazel added.

  Jessica shook her head, shocked she’d been tossed into the field after only being a part of the compound for three weeks. How’d Marla put up with these two? She wished Marla were there, so that she didn’t have to be.

  An hour later, they pulled up to a traditional style home near the calm downtown square of Sparta. The town slept early, a lot like her town of Allegan Township. Lights out for most people happened around seven as they had to prepare for work and school on Wednesday morning. She sighed as she stared at the brightly lit homes that stood several feet from the road. What she’d give to be back in Granny’s shack. Her eyes moistened. It was too late for that now as she was, as Father Paul had put it to Boaty, in too deep.

  They pulled the SUV into the backyard. Hazel hopped out first with a duffle bag at her side. Jessica followed close behind until she let them in the back door.

  Inside the kitchen, Hazel set the bag on the counter and opened it.

  “Put these on and fix your hair.” Hazel handed her a wad of clothes.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Jessica was afraid to disturb her head for the fear of it gushing blood.

  “You look like trash. Not the young, unassuming kid Uni is expecting to meet up with.”

  Jessica unraveled the clothes and frowned. A one-sleeved cashmere sweater, jeans and a gray beanie. “These clothes are trash.”

  “Go tell McGee that and watch you be his complaint at the next meeting,” St. Pete said. “A burning bonfire. I guess we can’t leave our clothes there anymore. Dammit.”

  “Shut up, St. Pete.” Hazel looked back at Jessica. “You’re wearing the clothes whether you like it or not. Got it? Paul picks the characteristics of the bait. Your job is not to complain about her style; your job is to be her.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes.

  “Roll them again and I’ll cut them out of your face.”

  “Okay,” Jessica whined.

  Hazel raised a small vial before her face. “This is horse tranquilizer. It isn’t enough to kill anyone, but it’s enough to put them out for a few days. Uni thinks you like red wine. Make sure you give her the red glass.” She set two wine glasses on the counter. One yellow, the other, red. “And make sure you pour the whole thing in there and get her to drink the whole thing. Alright?”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “You’re a know-it-all. Figure it out.”

  “Whatever.”

  Hazel pulled a phone from the bag. “Take this.”

  She handed Jessica an old flip phone, something before her time. Even Jena, her often struggling, very absent mother, managed to keep a smartphone. Father Paul was a tech genius, or more like Techy was a tech genius, so why the cheap shit?

  “When you are done or if things go awry, call the only number in the phone. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?’

  “Yes!”

  “Then repeat what I just said.”

  “You said when things go bad, or when I’m done, to call you.”

  Hazel ground her teeth. “That’s not what I said.”

  St. Pete dragged his hand down his face and huffed. “We’re going to be here all fucking night!”

  Jessica pouted. “That is what you said!”

  “I said call the number in the phone.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I’m not going to answer. Paul will.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.” Hazel sighed. “Anyway, Paul will call us, and we’ll be right over.”

  “Wait, you’re not staying?”

  “No. We’ll be driving to and from Grand Rapids. Then to and from Muskegon. As soon as he calls, we’ll be on our way back here. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  “Oh buck up, brat. Paul is watching us right now,” St. Pete said.

  Jessica looked around. No cameras in view. Only the sand-colored countertops and glass cabinets surrounded them on all sides along with the stools against the bar and the family-sized dinette set in the nook in front of the back door. “How?”

  “You see that little spec over the doorway? The little bittie spec the size of a small spider?”

  Jessica strained her eyes and adjusted. “Yeah.”

  “Wave.”

  She gave a stiffened wave.

  The phone erupted in her pocket.

  Hello, Olive. Do a good job and I’ll make it worth your while. A text, from Father Paul.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. You’re never alone when you’re with Father Paul,” St. Pete said.

  ***

  The cherry wood floors clanged under her heels as the doorbell erupted.

  “Hang on,” Jessica called out. As she went for the door, she couldn’t help but feel…dirty. Like one of those girls who set guys up to be robbed by a thug, she was nothing but bait. Inexperienced, shaken, bait.

  What the hell am I doing here? she thought as she adjusted her beanie in the mirror next to the door. The girl standing across from her looked nothing like the outcast she strived to be. It was a pure façade of the types of girls she despised. Hated. A glamorized hipster.

  Jessica sighed, smiled, then turned to the door and pulled it open.

  “Hi there!” Uni said, her deep olive skin smooth and youthful. Her short hair, a lot like Ellen’s from that TV show Granny watched. She dressed like her too with the deep V-neck white tee and fitted bleached jeans. Her sport coat was the only thing defending her from the chilly winds that crept in from the night.

  “Hi, Ow-nee.”

  Uni laughed as she stepped inside with a bouquet of roses in both hands. “It’s pronounced you-knee. Like you need but drop the d.”

  “I’m so sorry!” Jessica said while covering her mouth.

  “It’s okay. Oh, these are for you.” Uni handed Jessica the bouquet of roses. She went in for a hug.

  “Thank you so much. They’re beautiful.”

  Uni pulled away from the hug and straightened the arms of her deep gray sport coat. She walked pass Jessica, looking at the spiral staircase and the sky-colored couches. Jessica scowled at the back of her perfectly feathered haircut. Flowers were the biggest cliché for the girl she was portraying. Jessica wanted to take a lighter to them and toss them in the trash. Then she’d tell Uni to leave. Run far away.

  But then Jessica would end up in that chair. Her insides went cold.

  “Mirrored sofas? A crystal chandelier bigger than my chocolate Lab? Holy crap, you are living the life! And you live here… alone?”


  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this is a beautiful house, Olive. You have to be one hell of a beautician to afford this.”

  “Oh, my uh… family paid for it.”

  Uni cocked her head. “Oh okay.”

  Wide eyed, Jessica asked, “What?”

  “Nothing. Just that you said you don’t talk to your family anymore because they couldn’t accept you for who you were.”

  “I don’t…”

  “I mean, it’s none of my business. But, know that you can tell me the truth. I’m not gonna bite.”

  Jessica sighed. “No. I mean—I know that. Come on.” A nervous chuckle escaped her throat. “If I thought you were going to hurt me I wouldn’t’ve asked you to come over.” She looked to the high ceiling, begging herself to stop babbling.

  “Good. Well. You got those drinks you were so pumped about?”

  “Sure. Yeah. B—beer or wine?”

  Uni scowled. “Wine. I don’t like beer. You know that, right?” She winced. “You definitely have me mixed up with someone else.”

  “No. No. Of course not. I just have so much on my mind?” she said with an awkward inflection.

  “Are you asking me or…”

  Jessica frowned. She was bombing hard and it would be a matter of time before Uni caught on and got them both killed. “Let’s drink. Huh?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want,” Uni said, a look of concern dragged her brow.

  Jessica led Uni to the kitchen and poured the drinks the way she was instructed with her back to Uni, who was looking around the rest of kitchen as if she planned on buying the place herself.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay? You can talk to me you know?” Uni asked as she slid onto the bar stool across the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” Jessica said as she made her way back to the bar and passed Uni the red glass. She took a seat next to her. “Uni, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  “Okay, you can tell me anything. I mean, I don’t know much about you other than the times we’ve talked but for some reason, I’m comfortable around you. I like talking to you, Olive. So, let me return the favor. My ears are yours.” She looked at Jessica attentively.

  “My family didn’t give me this house.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The news didn’t seem to bother Uni as much as it fidgeted at Jessica’s nerves. Just over to the left, they were being watched. There was no way Uni was getting out of this. Too deep. Way too deep.

  “Truth is, they’re dead. They’re all gone. Forever.”

  “Like did they die together or are they just dead to you?”

  “Both.”

  “Okay...”

  “I got this house from an older gentleman. My ex. He, uh, spends most of his time with his wife but out of guilt and control, he bought me a house. He comes and goes as he pleases.” She smiled at her bogus story that she’d ripped off from one of Granny’s romantic suspense daytime soaps.

  “Oh. Freaky.”

  “I’m sorry. I was afraid that if I told you the truth that you wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

  Uni waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. My wife tells me weird things about her friends all the time.”

  Jessica went wide-eyed. “Wow. You’re married? But you’re so young.”

  “I know. That’s what my parents said. But they seem to have too much to say. They hate that I’m a lesbian. They hate that I’m married at twenty-three and they hate that I didn’t go to medical school. I’d rather spend my days putting together floral arrangements, planning parties, and kissing my wife. So, shoot me.”

  They laughed. “That’s good to know. I feel less guilty.”

  “Why would you feel guilty? We’re only friends. I’d never try anything with you. I’m not a cheater or anything.”

  Jessica’s shoulders relaxed as warm relief pulled a security blanket over her. But then the thought of how the night would end wore on the tail end of it. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.”

  Uni snickered as she took a sip of her wine. “You’re funny.”

  “Okay. I did think that a little bit.”

  “How? Our conversations are always only friendly. I told you that I make friends online because my wife, God knows I love the woman to death, can be a bit controlling and overbearing. I figured she can’t control something she doesn’t know about.”

  “I know, but the flowers?”

  “I own a floral shop. I take flowers to clients, siblings and friends whenever I visit them.”

  “But why?”

  “Free marketing.”

  They laughed.

  “Well, let’s toast to free wine then.” Jessica lifted her cup and met with Uni’s.

  “Bottoms up,” Uni announced.

  Jessica smiled and took a sip of wine in her mouth. The taste was abysmal. How people drank that crap, she’d never understand. It tasted like a ball of earwax and a migraine mixed in one. She brought her cup down only to find Uni still emptying hers until she placed it on the bar and burped.

  “Gross,” Jessica said with a smirk.

  “Oh, don’t judge me, girly. I can drink anyone under the table.”

  Uni stood and stepped uneasily as she caught a hold of the bar. “Oh, I may’ve drank that too fast.” Every word came out slurred. Her hands slipped from the bar, taking her down to the floor.

  “Uni, are you okay?”

  “I’m. I’m fine.” Her words sounded as though her jaw had gone limp.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Uh. Uh. I think, I think your b—b—boyfriend sl—sl—ipped something in that bottle.”

  Jessica set her cup on the counter. “Uni, I’m going to call 911, okay?”

  Uni laid her face down. Her tongue hung from her mouth, dripping saliva onto the pale tile floor.

  Jessica looked up at the camera. A text came in:

  Good job, Olive.

  ***

  As Hazel wrapped Uni in a blanket, Jessica couldn’t help but stare, more astonished than fulfilled. Uni was a nice person. She wasn’t out to have sex with a stranger or destroy her marriage. She wasn’t a bully or someone out to cause harm. She was only trying to make a new friend.

  St. Pete put Uni over his shoulder and hauled her out the back door.

  “You can help ya know,” Hazel griped as she took a marker and placed an ‘x’ on certain walls. “And before you ask, I’m marking the walls so that the contractors know what to tear down. We’re remodeling this place over the next week and selling it.”

  “Wh—what do you need me to do?”

  “Pack up.”

  “Okay.” Jessica shoved Olive’s clothes into the duffle back. Then she went and grabbed the glasses from the bar. She looked on the wall where the spec had been. It was gone. Father Paul is everywhere. He’d even watched her drug an innocent woman who was being carried off to her death for the sake of entertainment. And it would be all Jessica’s fault.

  Uni’s blood is on your hands. Just like Dale’s. Just like Franny’s.

  Dizzy with guilt, she tripped over her shoe, stumbled forward, and dropped the red glass. It shattered on the tile floor with shards flying every which way.

  “Shit,” Hazel said. “Come on! We don’t have time for you making a mess. Just. Just go out to the truck. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  As she went through the back door, she ran into St. Pete, who was rubbing his hands against his jeans. “Damn she can droll. I’m pretty sure that shit is in my hair,” he complained.

  Jessica shuffled past him.

  “Hey, are we done in there?”

  She let herself in the back seat of the SUV and rested her head against the window. Heat crawled up her spine. Uni lay back there, totally unaware of what was happening to her. That she was soon to be dead. That the girl, Olive, was not a nineteen-year-old beautician, but a sixteen-year-old drop out who lived with a cult that feared and trusted Father Paul.

  She opened her eyes and looked over. The siding
s of the house were ordinary, nothing different from the house next door where people were having dinner or putting their kids to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary or unlike this house in every way. Except for the abduction part and the conniving, druggy part.

  A knock on the window nearly made her jump from her boots. She looked over. St. Pete stood there with his hands in his pockets and a stupid grin across his face.

  She went to roll the window down but realized that was impossible as St. Pete dangled the keys, teasing her.

  She opened the door. “What?”

  “You, uh, look a little blue in the face. You didn’t take the poison, did you?”

  “No.”

  “So why so glum?”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “I don’t think you are, Olive.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Oh, I don’t. I just want to hear you say it.”

  Her brow sagged. “Say what?”

  “This isn’t as fun and cool as you thought it was when you watched the show, is it?”

  “How’d you—”

  “Paul doesn’t pick just any ol’ sap to join us. He’s intricate. Careful. But I don’t think that’s the case with you. Nah. Definitely not.”

  “What do you mean?” She frowned. She wanted nothing more than for him to shut up and go away or for Uni to wake up screaming. Jessica wondered if the neighbors would hear.

  “I mean that you’re in over your head and I foresee you getting yourself killed. If not by Hazel, then the target. If not by the target, then Paul. If not by Paul, then by me.”

  Her heart dropped. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to you.”

  “Oh, I know. But you look like someone who might try something. You know those people that react poorly to a situation beyond their control? You’re like that… but dumber.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It’s a promise.”

  “I don’t—”

  “And no, there is no changing my mind. I don’t trust you, Olive,” he said through his comical smile. “And I don’t think Paul is in his right mind.”

  “Are you questioning—”

  “No. Not questioning, just observing. I could be wrong, but I guess that’s something we’ll have to find out now, don’t we?”

  He pointed upward with his eyes still on her. She looked up the ceiling. A small spec looked down on her crown.

 

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