Infamous

by Alyson Noel

  TWENTY-FOUR

  MY OH MY

  “Stop the car!” Aster shouted, staring in dismay at the sight of Layla racing down the street.

  Ryan slammed the brakes as Aster sprang from her seat and leaped in front of her. “Whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t!” She grasped hold of Layla’s arm.

  Layla struggled against her, but once Ryan joined them, she quietly surrendered.

  “I know you’re upset.” Aster forced herself to keep calm, hoping it would convince Layla to calm down too. “But everything we need is finally within reach. So you have to put your personal feelings aside and let me handle this, since I’m the one with the most on the line.”

  “You’re right.” Layla’s shoulders slumped forward as the fight seeped out of her. “It’s just—” Leaving the rest unspoken, she closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions.” Ryan slipped an arm around Layla. At the sight of it, Aster grew tense. There was no telling how Layla would respond. She was unpredictable at best, volatile at worst. “Let’s give them a chance to explain,” he said.

  Layla dabbed at her face and lifted her gaze. “Yes, let’s give them that chance, shall we?” Her mind made up, she tucked her hair behind her ears and motioned for Aster and Ryan to lead the way. She’d cycled from rage to grief to bitter determination so quickly it left Aster uneasy.

  They paused before the front door. “If we ring the bell, we’ll tip them off.” Aster spoke in a whisper.

  “You’re not seriously thinking of breaking a window like you did in Joshua Tree.” Layla stared, horrified.

  “I will if I have to.” Aster frowned. “But I’m thinking we should slip around back. It’s hot as hell out. Maybe they’ve opened a window or something.”

  “Pretty sure Madison can afford an air conditioner,” Layla quipped.

  “Yeah, well, she’s not really Madison, though, is she? She’s MaryDella Slocum. So I’m guessing she’s a fan of fresh air and wide-open spaces. It would explain why she chose to buy a secret house in the middle of nowhere.”

  “She used to crank the air and leave all the windows open,” Ryan said. “I told her she was single-handedly destroying the environment, but she said she hated feeling confined.”

  “So, what’re we waiting for?” Layla nodded toward the side gate.

  To Aster’s relief, Layla let her take the lead, though there was no telling how she might react once they were inside and found Tommy and Madison together. Aster just hoped they wouldn’t catch them doing something embarrassing. Then again, the more compromised they were, the better it was for her.

  With Ryan’s help, they scaled the gate and crept across the terrace to the french doors that opened to a nicely appointed den. Inside, she found two beers sweating on the coffee table, but no sign of Tommy or Madison.

  Moving deeper into the room, they froze at the sound of dull, rhythmic pounding coming from the far end of the hall.

  “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Aster swayed unsteadily. Even though she’d been expecting it, hearing Madison’s voice was like a jolt to the heart. After all this time, she finally had proof of the one thing she’d known all along: Madison Brooks was alive.

  “Fuck yeah,” Tommy grunted, followed by a whoop that made Aster flush in embarrassment.

  The pounding continued. And though her heart broke for Layla, Aster shot her a look that warned her not to do anything rash. Then, slipping her cell from her pocket, she prompted the camera app and rushed forward toward the open door, ready to capture a scene that would make Aster’s striptease video seem positively PG in comparison.

  She watched through the screen as Madison whirled on her and cried, “What the hell?” Turning on Tommy, she said, “Did you call them?”

  Tommy stood before them, shirtless, sweaty, and seemingly caught in the act of something Aster couldn’t make sense of. His gaze bounced between Aster and Ryan. By the time it landed on Layla, his face had drained of all color.

  Aster took note of the paddle Tommy gripped, along with the padded walls, rubber floors, and strange array of equipment, unable to comprehend whatever sort of messed-up role-playing fantasy they were engaged in. Clearly it was some kind of fetish room, though it wasn’t like it mattered. Not when Madison Brooks was living, breathing, and standing right there before them.

  After weeks of heartache, Aster’s life had changed in an instant. The burden of proof had been lifted. She no longer had a reason to fear her own future.

  Fueled by a summer’s worth of pent-up rage, Aster advanced on Madison, ready to make her suffer for all the pain she’d inflicted. Her fingers catching at Madison’s skinny arm, she started to drag her closer when Tommy intervened in an effort to protect Madison. It was a move that was not lost on Aster, nor on Layla, for that matter.

  “It’s not what you think!” he cried, but it was too late for that.

  “What the hell, Tommy?” she spat, refusing to let go of Madison’s arm until Ryan gently pried her fingers from Madison’s flesh.

  “Pretty sure we need her alive,” Ryan said, drawing Aster close to his side.

  Tommy raised his hands in surrender. Realizing he was still holding the paddle, he dropped it to the ground and tried again. “It’s not what you think.” His gaze darted wildly. “Just—just give us a chance to explain.”

  “Us?” Aster fought to free herself from Ryan’s hold. Sure they needed Madison alive, but Tommy, not so much. “So you’re admitting to being an us?”

  “Not what I meant, just—please. Can everyone just relax?” Tommy was pleading. He looked horrified, terrified. Well, too bad.

  “Sure,” Aster said, voice edged with sarcasm. “As soon as I send this video to Detective Larsen so he can drop all the charges against me and clear my name of a crime I didn’t commit, I’ll be happy to relax and watch as you two”—she wagged a finger between them—“are exposed for the frauds that you are. Seems like a fair trade to me.” Aster scrolled through her contacts, leaving no doubt she was willing to make good on her word.

  “Don’t.” Madison spoke for the first time since they’d burst into the room. Reading Aster’s scathing look, she added, “Please. Don’t.”

  Aster held Madison’s gaze and lifted the phone to her ear.

  “They can’t know I’m alive. No one can.”

  “No one but Tommy?” Layla spoke up. Aster was surprised she’d managed to remain quiet so long.

  “Layla—” Tommy started, but Aster stopped him before he could start.

  “You sort out your love life on your own time.” Aster glared. “I have better things to do at the moment.”

  “Do it,” Ryan said, egging her on. “Post it to Instagram too. The sooner the world knows, the better.” He gave her an encouraging look.

  In her cheap clothes and heavy-handed makeup, Madison appeared small and frail, battered and beaten—the exact opposite of her usual highly curated look. But Aster was too jacked up to focus on Madison’s drastic appearance or how she might’ve gotten that way. Her fingers were shaking so badly she found it difficult to press the right prompts on the keypad.

  “Listen,” Madison pleaded. “I get why you’re angry. But if you can just spare me five minutes, I can explain. After all, what’s five more minutes after everything you’ve already been through?”

  For the first time since she’d been caught, Madison sounded appropriately desperate. It had sure taken long enough.

  “I know you don’t like me,” she continued. “And I know you blame me for every bad thing that’s happened to you. But you’ve got it all wrong. Calling Larsen will just put me in more danger than I’m already in.”

  “And I’m supposed to care because . . . ?” Aster smirked.

  Madison paused. “Because I guarantee it will put you in more danger too.”

  Aster rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a line from one of your movies. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that
if you want me to believe you.” She arced an arm wide. “I couldn’t care less about whatever you do in your kink room. Though I’m sure the tabloids will love the footage I send them.”

  Madison squinted in confusion.

  “Is this how Madison got to you?” Aster regarded Tommy closely. “Is this how she seduced you and persuaded you to keep all her secrets?” Aster was furious, but fought to keep her anger subdued. “I can’t believe you sat right alongside us, pretending to be one of us, when you were in on it all along.”

  Tommy shook his head and mumbled something about how Aster had it all wrong. But Aster wasn’t interested in Tommy’s excuses. Not when the truth was unfolding right in front of her.

  “We just came from your trailer.” With Tommy sufficiently shamed, Aster switched her focus to Madison.

  “Breaking and entering. Twice in one day.” Madison folded her arms across her chest.

  Aster seized the chance to gloat. “Broke inside your LA house too, just so you know.”

  Madison’s face was impassive, her look cool. And that was when Aster realized she’d given her exactly what she wanted. Five minutes had passed and Aster had completely lost sight of calling Larsen.

  “I’d really like to share my side of the story.” Madison’s voice was quiet and controlled.

  “What could it hurt?” Tommy broke in. “If you decide you don’t like what you hear, then you can go ahead and call Larsen.”

  Aster took her time to consider. She had all the evidence she needed standing right there before her, so maybe Tommy was right. What could it possibly hurt?

  She was on the verge of agreeing, when Layla said, “You can’t be serious? Why should we trust either of them?”

  “I went to jail!” Tommy shot back. “Or have you already forgotten?”

  “Of course you let yourself get caught,” Layla snapped. “After all, it’s the perfect cover.”

  “All we’re asking for is a chance to explain.”

  “We. Nice.” Layla rolled her eyes, as Tommy sighed and closed his.

  “I think Madison deserves a chance to explain,” he said.

  “Shocking you’d feel that way,” Layla seethed.

  For a handful of seconds, Aster felt badly for Layla. Clearly, her feelings were hurt. Or maybe it was just her pride, it was impossible to tell. But Layla’s argument was getting them nowhere, and Aster was tired of listening.

  “Enough!” Aster cried. Turning to Madison, she said, “You have five minutes to make me believe you.”

  Madison held Aster’s gaze. “If you betray me, or decide to blog about any of this”—she shot a pointed look at Layla—“I will sue you for slander.”

  “It’s not slander if it’s true,” Layla bit.

  Aster groaned. Layla never knew when to quit.

  “It’ll be my word against yours.” Madison glared, leaving no doubt she meant every word. “Who do you think they’ll believe?”

  Layla fell silent.

  “Also,” Madison said, “I need you to refrain from calling Larsen. For my own safety, I have to insist.”

  “And what about my safety? What about the upcoming trial, and all the haters and trolls sending me death threats?” Aster glared.

  “All I’m asking for is a little more time. I promise I won’t let this get to trial.”

  Aster forced a sarcastic grin. “Tell me, just how much are your promises worth these days?”

  “It’s all I’ve got.” Madison shrugged. “Clearly, you’re the one in the driver’s seat. You decide where this goes.”

  Aster retrieved her phone and aimed it at Madison. Instinctively, Madison lifted a hand to cover her face as though Aster was some particularly aggressive paparazzo.

  “Think of this as insurance,” Aster said, snapping a series of pics. “A picture is worth a thousand words. And, in this case, I’ll use it to ensure you don’t go back on yours. So, if you could please just lower your arm and say cheese, I can get the money shot, and you can tell us your story.”

  “Fine,” Madison said, dropping her arm to her side. “But for the record, this is a rage room, not a sex room. When we’re done, I’ll be happy to let you use it. Seems like it might do you some good.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  CANDLE IN THE WIND

  Madison was used to being stared at, but this was entirely different. She’d just gotten everyone seated in the den, and now they were looking at her, waiting for the show to begin.

  It was the most nerve-racking performance she could ever imagine. Her entire future rested on her ability to sway them into believing everything she said. Judging by the skeptical looks on their faces, it wouldn’t be easy.

  They were searching for the sort of truth no one had yet been able to uncover. Madison was prepared to tell them a story based on some semblance of facts, though every word would need to be chosen with care. One false move and Aster would call Larsen before Madison could stop her. Still, she had no intention of sharing her real life story with anyone, ever.

  She settled onto one of the club chairs, pulled a gray crocheted throw over her lap, and propped her ankle onto the coffee table. Partly because keeping it elevated really did help lessen the swelling, but mostly because the visual reminder of the physical toll she’d paid might veer them toward kindness.

  It’d been so long since she’d last seen them in person, and though they looked more or less the same, clearly the summer had changed them.

  With her long, glossy dark hair, smooth olive complexion, vibrant brown eyes, and the uncanny way she had of elevating a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt into a runway-ready look, Aster was as stunning as ever. Though strangely, she also seemed happy.

  Happy wasn’t a word that easily applied to a girl like Aster. Snooty, privileged, self-satisfied—those were the words that fit. Happy was a yellow smiley face, a red Mylar balloon floating high in the sky. Happy was a triple-scoop waffle cone dipped in chocolate and covered with sprinkles. And tonight, Aster seemed like the happiest girl alive.

  It wasn’t just the relief of having the evidence needed to prove her innocence—it was also because of Ryan and the way he stayed glued to her side. The two of them moved in unspoken tandem, an intimate choreography known only to them.

  Unlike Aster, Layla was the opposite of happy. Which wasn’t surprising considering Madison’s experience of their previous run-ins. Still, a good chunk of the drive that had once been Layla’s most defining characteristic had since been replaced with a palpable uncertainty that left her looking haunted and lost.

  And Tommy, well, Madison had spent the day observing him. But now, after having been falsely accused by his friends, who obviously didn’t trust him, he was clearly the most uncomfortable person in the room.

  Breaking the silence, she pulled at the fringed edge of the throw and said, “I don’t know who took me, though I have my suspicions.” She paused, noting the way they all edged a bit forward. Good. She had their full attention. “I left Tommy after receiving a text I thought was from Paul. I went to Night for Night expecting to see him, but Paul was late, or so I thought. I went up to the terrace, and I guess I got distracted, because the next thing I knew, a hand was clasped over my mouth, and then . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t remember anything until I woke up hours later in an entirely different location.”

  “Do you remember anything leading up to that?” Aster pressed. “Any sort of sign, no matter how small?”

  Madison stared into the distance. “I heard footsteps. And I caught a whiff of a scent I recognized.” She looked at Ryan. “Same one you always wear.” Ryan started, and Madison lifted a hand. “Relax. I know it wasn’t you.”

  “Okay, so, the footsteps—heavy, light, anything in particular that stood out?”

  Madison closed her eyes, letting them think she was summoning the memory, when really she was just trying to cement her own strategy. She shook her head. “All I know is I woke up alone in a strange room. I don’t know where. I never saw anyone els
e the whole time I was there. The lights were programmed to go on and off, and they fed me three times a day through a slot in the door. The walls were covered with an image of me as a kid, along with multiple strips of mirror.”

  “So, clearly they’d been planning it for a while. But how did they know when to act? Who besides you two”—Aster gestured between Madison and Ryan—“knew you were going to break up and set the whole thing in motion?”

  “Paul.” Madison studied her nails. “But he didn’t do it.”

  “I thought you suspected him.” Tommy turned on her.

  “I do suspect him—of withholding evidence and lying to me. But he didn’t abduct me.”

  “Were you ever in Joshua Tree?” Aster asked.

  “There were two locations. I have no idea where the first one was. The second was Death Valley. That’s where I escaped and Paul found me.”

  “Paul found you.” Aster stared. “In the middle of Death Valley. Doesn’t that seem a little too coincidental?”

  Madison withdrew into silence. She needed to show them this sort of questioning would get them nowhere.

  “What are you hiding?” Layla asked.

  Of course Layla was the one to force the conversation to a more substantive place. If Madison wasn’t so wary of Layla, she might be impressed. As it was, she said, “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Sure you are.” Layla crossed her legs and settled in. “Save your sad story for your memoirs or a very special edition of In-Depth with Trena Moretti. Right now, you need to cut the crap and give us a reason to trust you. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re outnumbered. You don’t decide how this ends, we do. The sooner you understand that, the better for everyone.”

  Madison inhaled a steadying breath. She couldn’t afford to let Layla bait her. “What exactly is it you want to know?”

  Layla was quick to reply. “Did you kill your parents?”

  Someone gasped. Madison guessed it was Aster, and though she felt equally jolted by the question, she was too self-possessed to show it. Funny how in the ten years since her parents had died, no one had ever bothered to ask. Then again, Paul had been right there when it happened, and he’d set up an airtight alibi that cleared her of suspicion. And yet, just like that, Layla’s question had transported Madison right back to that horrible night.