Given his disembodied look, I assumed he wore all black.
“Mr. Ashton Westborough. May I call you Ash?”
The wad of spit I aimed his way was my reply. It had missed him by miles but had the desired effect. His pale face grew dark with a rage I’d felt myself, many times. My choice might have been stupid on my part as he picked up the gun he’d left on the table and walked slowly but purposefully my way, unafraid, considering my legs had been bound to the chair as well.
“Have you heard of the game Russian roulette?”
His question only lowered my estimation of him. I wasn’t a member of some shadow organization where fear like this would be used. That thought died in my head and all the pieces fell into place.
He’d ejected the magazine from the gun and plucked out the solitary bullet, only to push it back in and slam it back home. The gun was whole again.
He aimed it at my head. “Not much of a game since this isn’t a revolver. One shot and you’re dead.”
I didn’t flinch, banking on my theory being right.
He wasn’t phased by my non-reaction. Just moved behind the desk again.
“This is how it works. I ask questions and you’ll be truthful if you want to live. See, the thing is, I need your honesty. You’ve seen my face and I need to trust you.”
I nearly rolled my eyes, unimpressed by this show.
“Your name?” he asked.
The battle of wills began until a phone vibrated on the desk. The nameless man smiled and picked it up. Then he turned the screen toward me, freezing my blood.
“Willow, is it? Pretty girl, blonde curls and a fuckable body.”
My chair jumped as I tried to get to my feet.
He laughed. “I bet you want to talk now. Name?”
If it had just been me, I would have held firm waiting for the game to reveal itself. But he described her, and I didn’t have a picture assigned to her profile.
“Ashton Westborough.”
My teeth might have been filed down to dust for as much as I’d ground my molars answering that question.
“That’s the name your bitch of a mother gave you. What should have been your name?”
That question gave me pause. I wondered then if I was right about who I thought was behind this. They should know that answer unless this was just a baseline question for the polygraph I’d been set up to take.
“Billings,” I grudgingly answered.
“Full name.”
“Ashton Westborough Billings.”
His head turned, leaving only his profile for inspection. The guy behind the computed nodded his way, and I heard his hands sliding across the other.
“Good. Remember, everything is in your hands. You’re honest with me, all will be fine. Willow will sleep happy, though she sounds pissed you haven’t shown up.”
I wanted to scrub my face. How could I explain this without scaring her and making her believe me?
He asked me another series of yes or no questions, like quizzing me on where I went to high school, what my home address had been. Then he began another line of questioning.
Him: “Do you want to play football?”
Me: “No.”
There was no harm in answering truthfully there.
Him: “Is your best friend named Sawyer Cargill?”
Me: “Yes.”
I wasn’t exactly shocked by his next question.
Him: “Are you in love with him?”
Me: “No.”
Love meant many things, but he‘d meant romantically. I held his gaze longer as he waited for me to change my answer.
Him: You do realize I expect the truth one hundred percent.
Me: “Yes.”
Him: “Do you want to change your answer?”
Me: “No.”
My heart remained steady, not skipping a beat or speeding up.
Him: “Were you molested as a child by a certain Supreme Court Justice?”
Time had to have slowed as I processed his question. Only Sawyer and I had known the answer to that question if you exclude the devil and the monster themselves. Sawyer wouldn’t have told anyone in a million years. I would stake my life on that. My father had just found out. What would he have to gain by spilling that fact? Nothing. He was running for president. If anything, he needed fewer scandals if he had a prayer’s chance of winning the primary next year. His wife… She was the wild card. She’d played like she felt for me, but in the end, I was the object of her husband’s betrayal. She’d admitted as much and that she’d resented me.
“Why does that matter?” I asked, trying to buy time.
“Your answer or I could send pretty Willow a text to meet you outside. My men could take her.”
I flexed my muscles against my binds in my best impression of Bruce Banner getting angry. But I wasn’t a Marvel character with superhuman strength. The only thing I did was cause welts in my arms and legs.
Him: “Answer?”
Me: “Yes.”
It was an admission that killed some part of me inside. I wanted nothing more than to forget the past. Once again, I was faced with it. Would it always be this way?
Him: “That wasn’t hard, was that?”
I gave him nothing, hoping he would move on.
Him: “When did it start?”
I would have preferred him slitting my throat than answering and remembering the horror of my childhood. My eyes fell to where my phone sat illuminated only slightly by the single bulb above my head that dully gave off what was a poor excuse for light. I thought about Willow and didn’t want to imagine what they might do to her. My fate shouldn’t be hers.
Me: “Young.”
Him: “How old?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
My shrug only pulled at my binds, sending pain shooting up my arms.
Him: “That young. When did it stop?”
A flash of Sawyer coming out of my closet like some avenging angel reminded me all the reason why I’d mixed up my love for him. Twisting it into a fantasy for something more.
I shrugged again as the entire scenario played out in my head.
Him: “I need an answer.”
That had been a truth I didn’t want to share. How pathetic I’d been to let it go on for so long.
He picked up my phone.
Me: “Twelve.”
I’d vomited the word, and he grinned like a well-fed cat as he stole pieces of my soul, one truth at a time. He set the phone down again as he pulled at my marionet strings.
Him: “Did you like it?”
I wanted out of that room and raged that I wasn’t strong enough to free myself and kill the sadistic bastard in front of me. He laughed maniacally. Apparently, he was only riling me up as he moved on.
Him: “Have you slept with the lovely Willow?”
That was none of his fucking business, and I silently said as much with my burning stare.
Him: “I’ll need an answer.”
Me: “Yes.”
Him: “How many times? I bet she was as good as she looks.”
The laughter unfurled on his lips was enough to have me on my feet, stooped with a chair riding my back.
Him: “Down, boy.”
His amusement only made me want to swing this chair and see what and how much I could break.
Him: “I said down.”
This time the room temperature chilled with his words. We both looked at the gun at the same time. His hand curled around it and aimed it at my head.
Him: “You won’t be much help to your pretty girlfriend if you’re dead.”
If he thought that would scare me, he was dead wrong. I gave him a cold stare.
Him: “I like you. You’re not crying yet.”
I gave him no reaction.
Him: “Cold bastard, aren’t you?”
When I still said nothing, he went on.
Him: “Let me just lay it out there for you. You’ve guessed who we are?”
I had.
Me: “Vanderbilt.”
Him: “Smart boy. Here is the deal. Your membership comes with many perks. Like say the word and we can make a certain judge’s life hell.”
I couldn’t say I was unmoved. I’d spent many nights dreaming up ways for the man to die. But what would that make me? Another monster?
Him: “The only thing we ask in return is complete confidence. You say nothing ever and we’re good.”
Then he laid on the consequences of not keeping my mouth shut.
43
Willow
* * *
Had he just blown me off? I’d asked myself a thousand times as I stood looking out the window hoping I’d see his car any moment. I glanced down at my phone Mom had found and overnighted to me. My text to him was still the last. He hadn’t responded. Would it be desperate for me to call? Maybe he’d fallen asleep? I didn’t want to think he’d blown me off.
I considered all my options. I could call Shelly or Brie, but it was late.
What was that saying? The simplest reason is probably the right one.
I left the window and went to bed.
When morning came, there wasn’t a message from Ashton explaining what happened. I tried not to be mad, but I was. I got ready and headed for my Entomology III class. I checked my attitude at the door and made my way to my professor’s office.
All the way there, I searched faces for Ashton. I gave up when I walked into the science building.
I was so busy thinking about my boyfriend, I nearly ran into Derek.
“Hey,” I said.
His scowl was his only response. I turned as he passed, wondering if I should go and try to make things right somehow, but the alarm on my phone said I had five minutes until my allotted time slot.
I knocked on the familiar door, and I was greeted with a “Come in.”
“Close the door,” my professor said.
She barely glanced up from the computer screen.
“Miss Young, I have your project.”
I’d emailed it the night before, but also had a hard copy I’d printed off. “I’ve gone through it, and I must say I’m impressed. Though your techniques were unorthodox.”
Yeah, because I’d been banned from the lab. I managed to keep my mouth shut.
“But your conclusions were correct.”
She finally leaned back and steepled her fingers like a prayer. I wanted to pray that she would pass me. There was no room in my schedule to retake this class next semester and graduate.
Her fingers tapped as my heart raced.
“I’ll be honest, I don’t want to pass you. You’re more suited for PETA than a scientist.”
That pissed me off. I sat straighter in my chair.
“With all due respect, PETA’s mission statement is a good one. That doesn’t mean I necessarily agree with their methods.” When she didn’t say anything, I continued. “Innovations and inventions weren’t attained by staying the path of the status quo. Isn’t the basis of a scientist to try new methods? We don’t have to kill to study. In fact, I’ll venture that studying an insect that died in its natural habitat is more useful than a controlled environment.”
Her praying hands stopped their tapping in favor of a light clap with a smile on her face.
“Very well. Between the Shakespeare paper and this lab, you’ve passed. The final grades will be posted in a few days. Good luck, Miss Young.”
I hopped out of my chair, a grin plastered to my face. Had she really given in so easily? Though I had no idea if I’d only barely passed or how the grade might affect my final GPA. None of that mattered. At least I could graduate. I practically skipped out of her office and down the hall.
The air outside smelled a little sweeter until I spotted a couple hand in hand. My phone hadn’t buzzed, and my heart sank. Where was Ashton?
The football practice field was halfway across campus from here, but I found myself marching in that direction. He may have been new at the boyfriend thing, but texting me was just simple courtesy. I couldn’t imagine any excuse he’d have not to pick up his phone and say something. My steps faltered a second when I thought he might have broken his phone or lost it like I was prone to do. If that was true, I’d gladly eat my mad, every bite.
I’d just past the café when I spotted Sawyer with a group of guys. Ashton wasn’t in sight and neither was Chance.
Sawyer would have walked right by me. His eyes met mine for a second, his joyous smile flattening until he responded to someone who spoke to him. A girl came out of nowhere and draped herself around him. I stopped even though I didn’t want to watch. He said something, and the girl giggled like he was a professional comedian. She waved goodbye, but it was a clear invitation for him to follow.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I cut in.
His followers snickered and patted his back for being such a horn dog. I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll catch you all in a minute.”
The guys left sounding as if they were making bets. He waited for me to speak and I took a breath.
“Have you seen Ashton?”
Unfortunately, even I saw why his devilish smirk worked on most girls. Good thing I wasn’t most girls. If Ashton wasn’t my boyfriend, Sawyer would be the last boy I would be interested in.
“What? He dumped you already?”
I’d never wanted to punch someone until that moment.
“No. He was supposed to come by last night and he didn’t show up.”
If eyes could beg, mine did.
“Sounds like none of my business.”
We could agree on that.
“It’s not, really. But it also doesn’t seem like something he’d do. Can you just let me know if you’ve seen him?”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips parted. Just when I thought he would answer, he said, “I’m not his keeper.”
He made a move to walk away. I stepped in his path, because this was important. If my relationship had any shot at working, I needed peace between us.
“What is your problem with me?”
His laugh lacked any humor and almost sounded like a bark.
“Problem. I’ll tell you my problem. Ashton doesn’t need some girl clouding up his head. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know. And I don’t want my boy messed up when you decide to walk away after you find out.”
I lifted my chin, even more than the angle I had to look up to meet his eyes.
“You don’t know me.” I snapped out the words.
“Exactly. And neither does Ash.”
I should have let it go, because a fight would not serve me in the long run. But I was tired of his arrogance.
“Really. Because I’ve known Ashton since the beginning of the school year.”
A flash of surprise briefly graced his features.
“You must mean very little if he never mentioned you to me.”
I curled my hands into wrecking balls.
“Or maybe he didn’t tell you because he was afraid you’d react this way?”
I didn’t know this for sure, but I didn’t think I was far off the mark.
“Or maybe I’m right and that’s why he hasn’t called you?” The jab landed squarely on my chest and forced my lips shut. “Now I have to go.”
My chest heaved with unbridled words I didn’t get to say. Years of insecurity wormed their way into my head. They’d been unlocked by all he’d said. I didn’t want to believe he was right, but he knew Ashton better than I did.
The reasonable conclusion was he hadn’t called. He’d warned me he was fucked up and I’d still walked through that door with my heart available as a punching bag.
44
Ashton
* * *
A rough hand shook me awake. It was the first time in my life I sought darkness over the light, wanting nothing more than to ignore the summons to wake.
“Fuck, bro, leave me alone,” I grunted, rolling over and hoping to slip back into sleep.
“Du
de, you missed practice again.”
It would take more than a crowbar to open my eyes. But Sawyer was a persistent son of a bitch. He shook me relentlessly until I was glowering at him.
“Where the hell were you? I covered for you. But Coach isn’t buying it.”
I scrubbed a hand over my aching head.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Time for you to get the fuck up.”
I glowered at him hovering over me. You’d think I was some derelict solider and he was my captain for the disapproving glare he was throwing my way.
“Your girlfriend is looking for you,” he said.
That got my attention. I fought to a sitting position.
“You talked to her?”
He snorted. “More like she gave me the third degree. She caught me off guard, so I couldn’t cover you.”
I lifted my head, eyes narrowing. “What did you say to her?”
“What do you care? You stood her up from what she said.”
I groaned, rubbing my eyes remembering the night before, and forced myself to my feet.
“Was she pissed?”
He barked a laugh. “What do you think?”
The contents of my stomach marched up my throat, and I barreled my way past him and into the bathroom. I was fairly sure anything I’d eaten in the past week was excavated from my gut.
I hadn’t locked the door, so when I finally heaved myself up from my crouching position, Sawyer stood in the doorway.
“A little too much to drink last night.” He shook his head. “I’m worried about you.”
How many times had I heard that in recent months?
“You don’t have to.”
I closed the door on him and stared at myself in the mirror. Dark shadows circled my eyes. I rubbed my mouth before scooping up a handful of water to rinse it out.
Willow. What the hell would I tell her? I stripped and got into the shower, hanging my head in the warm spray, trying to get my thoughts together. I hated the idea of lying to her. But what choice did I have?
Sawyer wasn’t waiting for me when I left the bathroom still shaky on my feet. I burst through my room door, eyes darting on every surface until I spotted what I was searching for. I snatched up my phone, but it was dead.
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