by JA Huss
“Ariel, look—”
“No, you look! You have a crucial piece of evidence and you’re withholding it.”
“It was junk mail,” I say.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“I opened it when you were arguing with Victoria, OK? It was a credit card offer in a pretty envelope, that’s all. I threw it away.”
“Then we’re gonna go get it out of the trash. Because I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
“Fine with me.”
I let Ariel drag me through the hallways back to the catering kitchen, which is now bustling with cooks and servers who are getting our dinner ready.
“Can I help you?” Elizabeth, the chef, asks, when she spots us at the doorway.
“Yes, Elizabeth. Sorry to interrupt you guys in here. But my sister left something in the trash that we need to recover. Do you mind if we look?”
“Oh, sorry. We emptied the trash.”
“Where did you take it?” Ariel asks, her voice stiff and cold. “We really need it back.”
“It’s been compacted.” Elizabeth shrugs. “Sorry. We have very strict trash regulations on the resort. Everything is compacted to save landfill space.”
“See,” I say, pulling my arm so Ariel has to let go of me. “It’s nothing. I’m not lying.”
“Is something wrong?” the chef asks.
“No,” I say. “We’re just a little edgy tonight, Elizabeth. That’s all. Isn’t that right, Ariel?”
Ari huffs air but turns on her heel and walks back out the door.
“Sorry to bother you,” I call back over my shoulder as I follow her. She is waiting at the end of a hallway, seething with anger.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not! I swear! Why would I lie about a stupid piece of mail?”
She looks me up and down, then turns once again and starts walking back to the dining room.
“What if we’re looking at it all wrong?” Five is saying when Ari and I return.
“What do you mean?” Nolan asks.
“Look,” Oliver says, getting up, dipping his napkin in his water glass to get it wet, and then walking over to the menu chalkboard. He wipes it clean, picks up a pink piece of chalk from the tray, and begins to write down names. “Claudette, Allen, Stewart, Ellen, the Conrads, Lucio Gori Junior, Lucio Gori Senior, Liam Henry, and Boring Richard.”
“Wait,” Ivy says, a sad look on her face. “Do you think my father was involved?” She turns to look at Nolan. “Remember those girls you told me about? The blogger who tried to set you up? And the one who lied about being pregnant?”
“Yeah,” Nolan says, scratching his chin. “How the fuck do all these people connect?”
“And, more importantly, who’s in charge?” Victoria asks. “Because it looks pretty clear to me that it’s all about Liam and Gori. They are the bosses, everyone else is just a player.”
“Maybe,” Five says, getting up to join Oliver. “If you look at it like a flow chart—” He draws squares and circles around each name, then starts connecting them with lines. “Then it barely makes sense.”
“Jesus fuck,” Mac says. “That is complicated.”
“Right,” Five says. “But—” He erases all the names and lines and then draws a big circle in the middle, attaching each name to it on the outside with one short line so it looks like an elongated sun a child might draw in pre-school. “If you look at it this way, it’s really rather simple.”
“It’s not a who inside that circle,” I say before thinking.
“But a what,” Ariel finishes for me. “Some kind of organization, or company, or…” She trails off. I don’t look at her. But it’s true. Everyone knows it. There is a cacophony of oh, and yes, and of course coming from everyone at the table.
“We only have one more question,” Oliver says. “What’s the name of the entity inside the circle? When we figure that out we’ll know,” he says. “We’ll know everything. Why they set us up, who was responsible, and what we need to do about it.”
Pax reaches for my hand again. We squeeze together this time.
Because we already know what goes inside that circle.
The Silver Society.
And this can only mean one thing. There is one more missing name on that list of people.
And it’s his mother.
Chapter Thirty - Paxton
The conversation lags through dinner after that. Presumably the group is busy mulling over who this mysterious entity in the center circle might be.
But the name is repeating itself over, and over, and over in my head.
The Silver Society.
I have so many questions for Cindy. They are spilling out of my mind and filling up my head until I feel like just grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the dining room.
But I can’t do that.
No. I can’t do that.
Because everyone will know I know something and then they will start asking questions. And Cindy might let something slip about the silver envelope my mother showed us at the races. And one of the guys—Corporate, probably, because we’ve never exactly been friends and he’s probably still pissed off at me about that whole island mercenary contract I had on his life a few weeks ago—will put two and two together and come up with Mariel Hawthorne. And then I might really have to kill him.
And, and, and. It goes on, and on, and on like that from there.
“How’s the food?” the chef, some fresh-faced thirty-something woman, says, beaming a smile at all of us as she claps her hands together in anticipation.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Ivy says. I can’t see her, she’s on the other side of Cindy, and I don’t try, anyway. I just look back down at my plate as Nolan tries to convince the woman everything is perfect even though there is nothing about us that says anything is perfect.
I cut a piece of steak and shove it in my mouth.
Cindy turns her head to look at me, just as Ellie, Mac, and Five begin talking on my end of the table. She leans in and kisses me on the cheek, but instead of turning away, she lingers close to my ear and whispers, “I have to tell you something.”
I pull away and look her in the eyes.
Alone, she mouths to me.
After dinner, I mouth back.
Cindy takes a deep breath and nods her head, then goes back to picking at her steak. We have one course left. One more course and then I can get out of this fucking room, get away from all these fucking people, and just clear my head and think.
Think.
I really need to think.
Cindy and I are conspicuously silent after that, and Oliver does not miss this. He’s mostly scowling through the rest of the main course and when our plates are finally taken away, he says, “So…” looking straight at me. Only a few people notice. Cindy, of course. And when I look to my right at Five, he scowls and steeples his fingers under his chin like some kind of epic villain in a superhero movie.
“So,” I say back. Mac and Ellie are engaged in a conversation about their dog, who was herded away with Corporate’s new insta-kid the moment they got here. But Ariel is directly across from me, and she’s paying very close attention.
“Do you love her?” Oliver asks. “Because if you don’t, you need to back. The fuck. Away.”
“Oliver,” Cindy says. “We’re in a new relationship. We like each other enough to take it further. It’s none of your business.”
“Yes,” I say when she stops talking, never taking my eyes off Oliver. “Yes, I love her.” When I look over at Cindy, she’s smiling. Maybe even blushing. “I do,” I say. “You just took over my life and now that you’re here, I can’t imagine I would ever be happy if you left.”
“Awww,” Ariel says. “See, Oli, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Our little baby sister has won the heart of big, bad Mr. Mysterious.”
“What about your job?” he says to that. And he sneers the word job. “You can’t possibly—”
“I’m out,” I say. “
I’m partnering up with Cindy in her detective business.”
“I guess that’s why you showed up here in a trench coat and then locked yourself in Nolan’s office?”
Ivy actually laughs on the other side of Cindy. Everyone is listening now.
“Yeah, that was kind of a dick move, Mysterious,” Nolan says.
“Oh, stop about your stupid desk, Nolan,” Ivy chastises him. “It’s no big deal. Three months ago we were sneaking away too. So stop being judge-y.”
“It’s my office,” Nolan says. “And I never fucked you in there.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “I’m done here.” I’m about to get up when the chef and servers appear with dessert, and Cindy places a calming hand on my arm to keep me seated.
“Ten minutes,” she says, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “Ten minutes and we can go back to our cabana and be alone.”
“I heard that,” Oliver says, as he is served a plate with a single chocolate-covered strawberry with some kind of filling spilling out the top.
My plate is put in front of me and I look down at it, just as the chef says, “Please enjoy the cheesecake-filled chocolate-covered strawberries. Who would like coffee?”
Fuck that. I pop the whole strawberry in my mouth and stand up before I get roped into twenty more minutes of conversation. “It was great, Elizabeth,” I say to the chef, tossing my napkin down, and chewing through the words before I swallow and continue. “Sorry I wasn’t dressed for the occasion, but I was traveling all day and now I’m pretty tired. So Cindy and I”—she is wrapping her strawberry into a hastily constructed takeaway container made out of her napkin—“are going to bed. See you on the other side, my friends.”
I grab her hand and we flee. I practically drag her through the busy-as-fuck resort—how the hell did Nolan get so many people booked in so short a time, anyway?—as we make our way out of the main building, past the pool, and then off to the left where the private bungalows are.
“What room are we in?” I ask, as we walk along the elaborately landscaped path that leads to the private pool and little huts.
“Eight,” she says. “The last one. But Pax—”
“Shhh,” I say. “Just wait until we’re alone, OK?” Corporate’s kid and Perfect’s dog, along with a nanny, are swimming and splashing in the private pool as we pass it. Cindy waves and smiles at the greeting we receive from the kid, and then she’s got her keycard out and she’s flashing it at the door.
I open it up and we escape inside, closing the door behind us.
I smile at the sight of her bohemian backpack, missing her completely in that moment of recognition, even though she is right next to me and still has hold of my hand.
“Pax—”
“Cindy, look. I’m fucking sorry for dragging you into this. Oliver is right, dammit. It’s really not safe for you.”
“Pax—”
“But I do love you. I have never felt so sure of something in all my life.”
“Pax, listen—”
“We need to be careful, OK? We need to be very careful. I think it’s best if you go home to the farm. Your crazy dad is there, and your mom, who probably shoots better than I do. So they can—”
“Pax!” she yells. “Stop talking and just listen to me!”
“It’s my mother, Cindy!” I shout it and she startles. “Sorry,” I say, pulling her close to me and wrapping my arms around her in a hug. “Sorry.”
“No, listen to me. I know your mother has something to do with this, obviously. The Silver Society—”
“Right. I’m so fucking sorry for dragging—”
“You didn’t drag me into it. Just listen! A silver envelope was delivered to the dating site office today, Pax.”
“What?” I grab my hair with both hands.
“And it was addressed to me.”
“Fuck!” I say. “What the hell was inside?”
“I don’t know,” Cindy says into my chest. “I couldn’t open it in front of the other girls. Victoria called it junk mail and snatched it away. And then it flew onto the floor and I kicked it under the table in the kitchen before Ariel thought too much about it. But she’s—”
“On to us,“ I finish. “That’s why she wanted you to go to the bathroom with her, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Cindy says, pulling away from me so she can look up at my face. “But I lied. I said it really was junk mail and told her I threw it away. It was just good luck that the kitchen staff compacted the trash and got rid of it, so I think she bought it.”
“Oh, no,” I say. “I don’t think she bought anything, Cindy. She’s going to tell Oliver and everything is going to point to my mother.”
“It’s not your mother, Pax. I know it. I feel it. She knows… things. She told me, Pax. She told me about The Silver Society and I was supposed to warn all the girls about it, but—”
“The girls?” I ask.
“But I wanted to talk to you first and I didn’t know what to say. I don’t think your mother is the one behind all this bullshit. Or the rape charge, for fuck’s sake. Just… no.”
“Why is she interested in the girls?” I ask. “What the fuck?”
Cindy places her hands on my cheeks, stares into my eyes, and says, “It was never about you guys, Paxton Vance. It never had anything to do with the Misters. The only people who matter in all this twisted shit are the Misses.”
Chapter Thirty-One - Cindy
“Everything that’s happened over the years is about the girls, Pax.” But he’s just staring at me with a funny look on his face. “Do you hear me?”
He takes a deep breath and then leads me over to the small couch and sits down, pulling me into his lap. “What girls?” he asks. “What’s going on?”
I sigh, so fucking sorry I have to be the one who finally has the answers he’s been looking for these past ten years. “Your mother went to Dartmouth. She’s from a very important, very old money, very prestigious and public family.”
“Yes,” he says, staring straight into my eyes.
“She wasn’t the first to be invited in.”
“In?”
Poor Pax. I lean down and kiss him on the lips. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be OK. We are all smart and strong. We will find a way out.”
“Out of what? Cindy,” he says, raising his voice. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Out of the Silver Society. You were invited, sort of. Men really don’t get invited, Pax. The women do. It’s an all-female society. Secret to everyone, except the five new women tapped for membership from each Ivy League school at the beginning of senior year. I never went to an Ivy League school, as you know. I went to Irvine.” I stop and try to make myself brave. “But my sister Rory did. A long time ago, Pax. She’s almost fifteen years older than me. And your mother told me she got an invitation.”
“Your sister?” he says. “The princess?”
I nod, swallowing down my fear. “But she didn’t understand what it was. And… well, she got out of it.”
“Got out of it?” he asks, his voice soft now. “What do you mean? What does that mean, Cindy?”
“She’s been missing ever since college. She disappeared, Pax. I haven’t seen her, or talked to her—”
“She’s dead?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know,” I say, struggling not to cry. “I don’t think she’s dead. We never found a body or a note for ransom, or anything like that. I was way too young to understand what happened, right? I was six years old. I barely knew her. I barely remember her, Pax. But she is a giant gaping hole in my life. I’ve watched my parents grieve over the years on the anniversary of the disappearance and it’s been killing me. I’ve watched Five become so distant and withdrawn, he’s barely a member of the family anymore. He loved her.” I choke back a sob. “He loved her so much. And she loved him back, so much. They were destiny.” I sniff the sob away and sit up straight, forcing myself to hold it together. “That’s part of the reason why I became
a detective, do you understand? I’ve been looking for her all this time.”
“But your parents,” Pax says. “Your parents talk about her like she’s alive. I swear, I know they do. I have never gotten the impression that she was… gone.”
“It’s sad,” I say. “They have never given up hope.”
“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Fucking hell.” And then he looks me in the eyes again. “And my mother is responsible for that?”
“We don’t know that, Pax. We can’t jump to conclusions. We need to get that envelope out of the kitchen. We need to see what it says.”
“It’s filled with fucking cooks and servers right now,” he says.
“I know,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “I know. So we just have to wait until tonight when everyone goes to sleep. And then we go back, get the envelope, and try to put these last few pieces together.”
“I need to call her,” he says, pulling out his phone. He presses a contact icon, then holds the phone up to his ear. Even I can hear the call ring through to voice mail. He tabs the end button and looks at me. “When did you last see her?”
“This afternoon. She was here, I thought she was staying. She told me we needed to come here and she said she’d explain tonight.”
“It is tonight.”
“I know. Maybe she just got caught up in something? She’ll be back, Pax. If not later tonight, then tomorrow for sure. She can explain everything. And we can show her my invitation—”
“What if she sent the fucking invitation?”
I shake my head. “Just… don’t stop trusting her now, OK? We don’t even know if it is an invitation.”
He looks at the window where the sounds of people in the private pool can be heard. “What time do you think they close up the kitchen?”
I shrug. “I dunno. Eleven, maybe? Out by midnight?”
“So we have like five hours.”
“Yeah.” I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his scent as I try not to freak out about everything that’s happened in the past several weeks. “We could get all the answers in just a few more hours. I might even get answers about Rory.”