by Jillian Dodd
“I won’t slip up. I promise.”
“Good. So, back to money. James and I have been working closely with your grandfather. He says you are aware of a trust fund he set up for you. You were supposed to get part of it when you turned eighteen and the rest when you turned twenty-five. You’re getting it now. I’ll give you your new identification and account information later, but it’s important that you understand how it all works. Your grandfather asked a friend of his in Atlanta, Sam, to come out of retirement to handle your accounts. All your bills for school, your phone, your credit cards, etc., will go through him. Your grandfather trusts him completely, but it’s my job to not trust anyone. We had his background completely checked, and I feel comfortable letting him handle your accounts, but I couldn’t allow him to know who you really are. The story your grandfather told him is that you are the granddaughter of a friend of his. Your parents recently passed away, you have a large trust, and he was afraid someone unscrupulous would rip you off, so he asked Sam to handle it. Sam only knows you as Keatyn Monroe. Your trust money was run through numerous accounts, a few shell corporations, multiple countries, scrubbed clean, and finally, put back into a trust in your new name.”
I nod my head and try to absorb everything he’s saying. Keep memorizing my new script.
“Any questions so far?”
“What about a car? Am I going to need to get around?”
“As soon as you get settled at school, you will need to buy a vehicle. Be sure to do that right away. I want you to have a car at school. Keep your gas tank full and your keys with you at all times. Your car is another way for you to escape, should he find you.”
I smile. “So I can buy whatever car I want?”
He grins back at me. “Yes, although I would avoid buying the same car you got for your birthday. There aren’t that many of them and it’s easy to run DMV reports. Remember, you’re going to have winter to deal with up there. I’d suggest something with all-wheel or four-wheel drive.”
“I drive a Range Rover now. Would that be a good choice?”
“Absolutely. I also want you to get to know the train routes.” He reaches in a file and hands me train schedule print-outs. “Traveling by train means you’re not alone, and it’s a quick way to travel anonymously.”
“Okay.”
He pulls out the locket James got me for my birthday.
“Why do you have my locket?”
“James gave it to us to modify.” He opens it up to show me a picture of a young boy. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
“It’s my dad, but James told me I couldn’t have a picture of my dad.”
“No one will recognize him at this young age. And after what you went through, I know it’s important.” He leans over to clasp the necklace around my neck.
I get tears in my eyes. “Thank you. It really does mean a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome, but this is more than just a locket now. We’ve inserted a tracking device in it. Don’t take it off. Ever.”
“You’re going to track me?”
“Yes. Our computer programs will be constantly comparing your GPS coordinates with those of your campus. If you go off campus, we’ll be alerted.”
“And then what?”
“Well, if you haven’t told us you’ll be off campus, we’ll assume you’ve been kidnapped and send in the calvary.”
I smile. “That’s reassuring. At least if he did find me and take me, you’d be able to find me. So how do I let you know if I’m going off campus?”
He holds up my new phone. “See this application? The compass with the black background?”
“Yep.”
“If you leave campus of your own free will, click the app before you leave. If something happens on campus, click the app icon three times, and we’ll know you’re in trouble.”
“Three times. Just like Dorothy? Click your heels together three times?”
Garrett smiles. “Obviously, it’s important to keep your phone charged and with you at all times. Try to always sit with your back to a wall, not with your back to the room. Try not to go off campus alone. Be sure to look inside your vehicle before you get in it, and if you leave campus, vary the routes you take. Don’t be predictable. No standing nail appointments.”
“Okay.”
“Now I want you to look at these.” He hands me a stack of photos.
I look down, shudder, and then take a deep breath.
“That’s Vincent,” I say. In the photo he looks happy. He looks nothing like he did the night he tried to kidnap me. Even with his sunglasses on, he was holding his jaw differently. “Why do I have to look at a photo of Vincent?”
“Keep going,” he says.
I flip to the next photo. It’s a different guy. He’s blond and . . . wait. “This is Vincent too. Only he’s blonde, right?”
“That’s right. Keep looking through the stack. There are Vincents with different hair colors. With facial hair. Without. We’ve even changed the color of his eyes. And notice the one with him in a ball cap?”
“Yeah. He looks different in all of them. Some of them I don’t know if I’d recognize him.”
“That’s the point. Keep going.”
“Oh, wow. You changed his clothes and his hair.” I flip to the last one and laugh. “Oh my gosh, a girl? Do you really think he’d dress up as a girl?”
“We don’t know what he will do, but remember there are a few things he can’t change. His height. He’s six-four. The most he can do is change his posture and slouch. Also, most people who don simple disguises won’t change their teeth. Study his mouth. You seem okay looking at these photos. James was worried you’d freak out a little.”
“The first picture made me feel kinda sick to my stomach, but he was smiling in it. I guess I have mixed emotions about him. For a long time, I considered him sort of a friend. It makes me feel stupid not to have known. Like all the stuff he told me. Especially the part about me being prettier than my mom. How could I have ever believed that?”
Garrett studies me. “Keatyn, you’re prettier than your mom in the ways that are important to Vincent.”
“What if he thought I was a whore? What if I did a slutty video? Wouldn’t he hate me and stop being interested in me?”
Garrett is shaking his head at me.
“No, Keatyn. That’s a very bad idea. Something like that would probably send him way over the edge. We don’t want that. There’s no telling what he’d do to you if you made him that mad.”
“Can I ask you a question? But you can’t tell my Mom.”
Garrett studies my face then agrees. “Okay.”
“If he had gotten me in the van, what do you think he would have done to me?”
“I really don’t know. You know him better than any of us. What do you think he would’ve done?”
I think about it for a second. “He was obsessed with remaking A Day at the Lake. I think he would’ve kept me and made me shoot some version of it. I’m pretty sure sexual things would have happened too. I think he thought we’d fall in love or have an affair on set. When the movie was done, I’m not sure. He may have re-written the ending. Like, into one where I die.”
“I think you’re probably right. Okay, now back to our list. I’m also giving you pepper spray. Keep one on your keychain and one in your purse at all times. You’re getting a crash course in all this. Do you have any questions?”
“Is it safe for me to talk to the people you loaded in my phone? I was worried I wouldn’t get to.”
“Let’s bring everyone else in. We need to discuss that with them.”
I’m not sure who was listening to our conversation, but Mom, Tommy, James, and Brooklyn walk into the living room and sit down next to us.
Garrett hands everyone a phone. “These are your old phones. We’ve added a dual password protection system. If someone stole your phone, it would be very difficult for them to access your information. Always remember that whenever you talk, text, or
email Keatyn, someone could be watching or listening to you. Never, ever mention her real name, the name of her school, or her location. In your phone, she is listed as M. Monroe. I’d suggest getting in the habit of calling her Monroe.”
I look down at my new phone. It doesn’t even have a normal passcode on it. “Why doesn’t my phone have all that password stuff?”
Everyone turns and stares at me.
And it sinks in.
I give them all a wry smile. “Oh, right. If he finds my phone, it’s too late anyway.”
Mom gets tears in her eyes, but Garrett continues. “So that’s pretty much it. I’ll personally be with the security detail tomorrow and make sure she gets to school safely. Keatyn, be sure to work on your backstory today. Figure it out. Memorize it. Own it.”
“You sound like a director,” I say. “You ever think of switching careers?”
I get a hearty laugh from both Garrett and James. “I don’t think so. I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow.”
I go in my room, look in the mirror, and practice.
“Hi, I’m Keatyn Monroe. I’m from L.A. My parents, uh . . . shit.”
What about my parents? I can’t tell people they’re dead. It’s too horrible to even pretend.
What should my backstory be?
I run to the kitchen to grab a Red Bull. Maybe I need a little quick energy to jumpstart my brain. It seems I’m not the only one trying to concoct a story, though. Millie, Mom, Tommy, and Mr. Moran, who are all in the business of making movies, are sitting at the kitchen table throwing around fake lives like dollar bills at a strip club.
I pretend to scan the fridge for food, but instead I’m listening to their cringeworthy ideas. I swear, they want my life to be some bad teenaged sitcom.
We should all thank God that they’re not writers. Hollywood would go down in flames.
Millie says, “I know, she could be a scholarship student. A ritzy school like that, everyone would avoid her like the plague. No one would guess she’s your daughter.”
I try to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t.
I keep my head glued to the fridge, but say, “Millie! I’m not pretending to be a scholarship student. Kym is in New York styling my uniforms as we speak!”
Mom says, “I still don’t understand how we’re going to get you money. James, how are we going to take care of her financially, if we can’t give her any money for fear of having it tracked?”
“The less you know, the better, Abby. But we’ve got it all worked out,” James replies. He walks behind me, stares into the fridge, then whispers, “How about we order some of your favorite Chinese? You haven’t eaten anything for days.”
I turn around and hug him tightly. “I can’t thank you enough for everything, especially for letting me wear my locket. I trust Garrett. He seems to know his stuff. I just want you to know that I listened to everything he taught me today. Do Mom and Tommy not know about the trust fund?”
“Your mom was pretty freaked out about the whole emancipation thing, so Garrett was a little hazy on his explanation. You’ll get all the paperwork and account information tomorrow on the plane, so if you want to tell them the value of it, you can do it then.”
“Do you think it will it be enough? Pay for school, buy a car and gas and insurance and stuff, maybe get pedicures once in a while?”
James chuckles. “Yeah, I think it will cover that.”
“Hey, wait a minute. So you know all the details?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re chicken to tell her, aren’t you?”
He laughs. “Actually, I am. Garrett has the privilege of explaining it all to your mother. So I’ll call Wong’s and place an order,” he nods his head at the kitchen table, “and you go take control of your fake life.”
As I sit down, Mom says, “How about you’re an orphan, but your parents had some life insurance money, and your executor didn’t want to deal with you, so he sent you to boarding school?”
“No,” I say. “Come up with something cool.”
“You got kicked out of your last school, and you’ve been in rehab?” Tommy asks. “Isn’t rehab kinda cool these days?”
“Definitely no rehab. That would mean I couldn’t party. But maybe I got kicked out of my last school. Can I get kicked out for something cool? I could pretend to be a bad-ass trouble maker!”
“What would be cool?” Millie asks.
Mom says emphatically, “No, on the bad girl. No getting kicked out of school. I don’t want you to start there with a bad reputation.”
“Oh, I know!” Millie says excitedly. “How about you got pregnant, had a baby, and your parents made you give it up?”
“Millie, this is not your prime time soap opera. Next are you going to suggest I killed my mom because of it and buried her body in the backyard?”
Millie laughs. “That was a storyline on my show, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was. I need to be normal. And do I look like I just had a baby? Do I want boys to think I’m easy? Is that what you want? Tommy? Mom?”
Mom mutters, “No. This is harder than I thought it would be.”
Mr. Moran states. “You want close to the truth. We could go closer to the truth. Your father died in a plane crash . . .”
I stand up, knocking my Red Bull all over the table. “Don’t even say that! You guys suck. I’ll make up my own backstory. You’re all freaking fired.”
My fake lives.
7:30pm
I run out the door, down to the beach, and drop myself into the sand. Three of the security guys, including James, are on my heels.
“You know you aren’t allowed out here by yourself,” James yells at me.
“I’m pretty sure since you’re all following me, I’m not by myself.”
He drops into the sand next to me. “I can’t imagine having to deal with all this at your age. I know they treat you like an adult, but you’re still a kid, and I’m sure it’s scary.”
“I feel like I was cast in some bad horror movie. It seems like it can’t possibly be real.”
“Don’t let yourself think that for one second. No matter what you do from now on, this always has to be in the back of your mind. It has to influence everything you tell people, every decision you make. Got it?”
I sigh because I know he’s right. “I’ve got it. So do you have any ideas for my backstory?”
“I agree with keeping it close to the truth and keeping it simple. You’ve traveled the world with your mom and stepdad and were tutored. You recently lived in L.A. Your parents decided to move, you didn’t want to go with, so they shipped you off to boarding school. Or maybe you decided to go on your own because you didn’t want to go with them. Depends on whether or not you wanna pretend to be pissed at your parents.”
“I like that. They moved to France. I didn’t want to go with. It’s simple, and I can be me, just without my famous parents.” I laugh. “And we don’t have to kill anyone off.”
“Everyone is really upset, Keatyn. They’re trying not to show it.”
“I know.” I swallow hard. “I’m pretty upset myself, and I feel really bad about Cush. What if you went and talked to him? What if I sent him a letter?”
“What would I tell him?”
“I don’t know. That I’m sorry. That I won’t be at school with him this year. That I’m sorry I told him I loved him and then just ditched him.”
“You told him you loved him? When was that? I thought you loved Brook?”
“I did. I do. I don’t know.”
“It’s been almost a week already. I’m sure he’s figured out you’re not calling.”
“I know you’re right. I just feel really bad.”
“You’d feel worse if he started posting on Facebook that he knew you were okay. If he told friends that he’d heard from you, and Vincent went after him. Keep him safe and in the dark. Also, Brook texted me and wanted to know if he could see you tonight. I ordered enough food for an army. Why don�
��t we have him come down?”
“Okay.” I get up, look around at the beach, and see the couple that lives a few houses down. I watch the guy take off his shirt and images of Vincent come flashing back. Of him taking off his shirt, of him grabbing my wrist with his strong hand. “I, um, I need to go back inside now. I kinda feel sick.”
“Keatyn, look at me. What’s wrong?”
My breathing gets heavy, my hands start to shake, and I feel like I’m going to cry, or puke. I can’t decide.
In between deep breaths, I say, “It’s just the first time I’ve been out here. I was fine when I was looking at the ocean, but then that guy took off his shirt. It reminded me.”
James grabs my arm. “Let’s get you back inside.”
Brooklyn showed up about the time the food did. The Chinese restaurant we ordered from is his favorite too and he ate a lot, his appetite obviously not hindered in any way. I pick at the sweet and spicy chicken, rice, and lettuce wraps that I put on my plate. I push the food around a little to make it look like I ate more than I did. What little appetite I had got ruined on the beach.
“You need to eat,” he says.
I pick up a couple grains of rice and put them in my mouth. “I am eating.”
Brooklyn grabs our plates and takes off toward my bedroom. “Come on.”
I follow him for lack of a better plan.
He sets our plates on my bed and motions for me to sit. We sit cross-legged on my bed like we’ve done so many times before. Brooklyn smiles at me, stabs a piece of chicken with his fork, and holds it up to my mouth, so I take a bite. Then he loads up the fork with rice and holds it up to my mouth. I try to eat it, but I bump the fork and the rice goes scattering back down on our plates.
We both start laughing.
“I should probably feed myself. So are you all packed and ready to go? Are you nervous?”
“Yeah, a little. At least we went there this summer, and I feel like I know my way around a little. That should help.” He stops talking and touches my face. “I had an amazing summer, Keats. I know things are really messed up with us, but I meant everything I said. I love you. I probably always will.”