It was in the bowels of the library, researching a piece to submit for a spot on the school paper’s staff that I felt most at home. I guess it should have come as no surprise that it’s also where I met my best friends.
The submission prompt asked us to pick a historical figure that was notorious, scandalous, or is widely despised. We were to cite reliable sources and tell a different story. One that was just as true, but perhaps, more inconvenient.
I knew right away who I was writing about – Jezebel. The biblical Phoenician princess whose name has become synonymous with ruin and deceit is, in my opinion, one of the most misunderstood women in all of history.
I’ve been obsessed with her since my grandfather told me that she was actually a ruler whose name was dragged through the mud because she was so ahead of her time. For a little girl, who often, felt misunderstood and underestimated, hearing her story made me angry. The budding storyteller was itching for a way to set the record straight, and this was my chance.
My very first conversation with Matty was an argument in the stacks over a book we were both intent on checking out. When our heated exchange revealed that we’d picked the same subject for our newspaper pieces, we quickly settled our quarrel. She invited me to join her and her roommate, Jack, for dinner.
We spent the evening talking about our shared outrage over the way, both history and myth alike, make men heroes and describe women as treacherous sirens, child-eating monsters, or husband murdering gold diggers. Our food grew cold, and our friendship caught fire.
The rest is history.
“So, how do you know this guy?” Matty asks, breaking into my wandering thoughts.
“Weston is my walk on the wild side from high school,” I say with a mischievous and lascivious laugh. But, if I’m completely honest, I have no idea what to expect tonight.
The last time I saw him, he called me a “disloyal cunt.” He was carrying an unlicensed weapon of some sort and had weed in his pocket that night at the bakery. He was handcuffed to the gurney that took him to the hospital for treatment of his stab wound.
My grandfather was furious when I called him to try and do damage control, and my late-night shifts came to a swift end.
“Oh my God, is this the guy who pierced your hymen?” Jack asks excitedly.
“Jack, can’t you just say I lost my virginity?” I groan.
“Why? You knew what I meant, so clearly, it’s fine,” she pouts.
“Touché, and yes, that’s him. I don’t know what to expect, because the last time I saw him, it wasn’t exactly hearts and roses.” To say the least.
“So, what was high school Regan like? Were you the girl everyone wanted to be, and every boy wanted to fuck but who no one could touch?”
I laugh at the irony of how completely opposite my experience was.
“My looks, my money and my family connections didn’t compensate for what is, according to my mother, my greatest flaw - I’m not good with people. My greatest sin is being a girl who doesn’t smile. Before you guys, my brothers were my only real friends.” Besides Stone.
I’ve never told them about him. Partly, because I’m afraid they won’t understand how I became best friends with a ten-year-old boy. But also, because it still hurts to think about that last night.
I never saw him again. I wanted to go see him, but I didn’t know what to say after the way he’d run off so hurt and angry. I was afraid showing up unannounced would make things worse. And so, I let him be.
Matty doesn’t say anything, but after sharing a dorm room with her all year, I understand her silences as well as I do her spoken words. If she’s quiet, she’s thinking. I glance at Jack in the rearview mirror, and her sad smile makes me self-conscious.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I take initiative when it matters. I’m not crazy about people in general. I don’t really mind that they leave me alone.” Silence falls and when I look in my rearview mirror at Jack, I notice a pair of headlights far behind us. It’s the first car I’ve seen since pulled off the 45.
Matty breaks the silence. “I’d seen you before that day we met in the stacks. I’d heard your family was rich. And I thought…a girl who looks like you, with money, who doesn’t smile and eats alone, I thought you were aloof. I was surprised when you suggested I use the book first. I should have known better; I know what it is to be judged for things I can’t help.”
“I didn’t know you felt like that. Reggie, I’m so sorry,” Jack leans forward to hug me.
I give her an awkward pat but keep my eyes on the road. “You’re going to make me drive off the road.” I grumble, but with a smile on my face.
“I thought your magical cowboy boots could save us from anything,” Matty wiggles her fingers at my ribs again, and I shriek with laughter.
A glance in my rearview mirror smothers my good humor.
The car is closer now. So close, I can tell that he’s going faster than me. This is a two-lane road; I could let him pass me. But I’d rather stay ahead because the shoulder is nonexistent, and I don’t want to risk being side swiped.
I punch the gas and speed up to keep a good distance between us and try to relax for the rest of the drive. I need tonight and all the debauchery it promises.
I’ve spent the summer with my hair tamed, my clothes tailored, my legs stockinged and my smile plastered on. I’m itching for a little bit of Weston’s dark.
I turn off at the exit when the GPS instructs me to. The car that had been so far behind us is only a few car lengths away now and pulls off the exit behind us.
This close I can tell it’s a big truck and I speed up as soon as I come out of the curved bend of the exit. But no matter how fast I go, it keeps pace.
When we turn down the road that leads to the cabin where Weston is having his party, it does too. I know this area well enough to know that these lanes usually have a single house on them. They must be going to the party. I don’t know why my stomach knots like a ninny.
When it doesn’t follow us as I turn into the drive, I almost sag in relief.
Until I see the house.
There are only two cars parked in front. And no lights on in the cabin. It looks abandoned. Hardly the makings of the house party he claimed he was throwing.
“Is this it?” Matty asks just as bright lights cut slices into the car and land on my rearview. The truck is stopped a few feet behind my car and the lights blaze into my car and make it so we can see each other properly for the first time.
I look at my friends and see that neither of them look worried.
“We must be the first people here,” I say and turn the car off.
“Come on, let’s go in. I promise this is going to be a night like you’ve never had.”
Over the next seventy-two hours, I’ll wish for a return to my normal everyday boring life, more times than I draw breath.
The two women who I called sister will suffer for my poor judgment and our relationships will be forever altered.
The man who I called a walk on the wild side, will become my mortal enemy.
And the man I will love above all others, though he wasn’t present when my world shifted off center, set it all in motion the night he thought he was saving my life.
Six Years Later
HOUSTON, TX
Chapter 7
Sos
Regan
“Call me back.”
I read Matty’s text with eyes still blurry from sleep. My boyfriend, Charlie mutters in his sleep and pulls the comforter up over his shoulder and turns his back to me.
I slide out of bed and hurry into the bathroom of the hotel room we booked for tonight and close the door behind me.
My phone says Matty called me four times before she sent that text.
Alarm sends my stomach into freefall, and I can’t get my normally pragmatic brain to pull the brakes on my fear. We’ve barely spoken in the last month.
I take a deep breath and with still trembling fingers unlock my phone t
o call her back.
But it rings before I can. The caller id flashes Jack’s name this time I answer it before the second ring. I hear Matty’s deep voice shouting a steady stream of curses in French and a man shouting too.
“She’s still not answering,” Jack sounds distressed and desperate.
“Jack?" I shout to make sure she hears over the pandemonium in the background.
“Oh my God Reggie, thank God,” Jack’s breathy, frantic voice is barely audible over the shouting behind her.
“What’s wrong?” I cover the mouthpiece to try and muffle my voice.
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” she cries and then I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired. My blood turns cold and terror sinks claws into my chest and holds me in its grip.
“Jack! What’s happening? I’m going to call the police.”
“No no, Regan you can’t call the police. Please don’t,” she shouts but part of it is muffled as if she’s covering the phone. All I can make out is the general sound of chaos and irritation mingles with my fear.
“Jack, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I don’t care what you say I’m hanging up and calling the police.”
“No, no—please wait” She sucks in a breath and when she speaks again her voice is much steadier. “We’re not hurt, but we do need your help. We’re at Dan Harrison’s house. We need you to go to his office and get his laptop and bring it over, please?” she asks
At the mention of my grandfather’s personal secretary, dread joins my fear. “Why? And who fired a gun at who?”
“We’ll tell you when you get here,” she says impatiently.
“No, you’ll tell me now or I’m not coming,” I snap, even though I’m already on the move.
“I told you,” she says in a voice made rough with annoyance.
“Told me what?” I ask confused
“Not you, Reggie. Hold on.” She covers the phone to muffle her voice. I’m about to hang up when Matty comes on the line.
“Reggie it’s me, there’s been an accident, we need you to go to Dan’s office and get his laptop.” Her voice is distinctly calmer and far more strident than Jack’s and the demand without any explanation snaps my patience.
“Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll call you back.” I ignore her groan of frustration and hang up so I can focus on getting myself out of the hotel room as quickly as possible.
I hurry back into the bedroom, sacrificing stealth for speed as I throw my clothes on.
Charlie turns over once, but otherwise doesn’t wake up while I finish zipping up my jeans, slip my feet into the silver ballet flats, put all my jewelry back on, grab my purse. I eye his prone form with envy. I wish I’d slept through the notifications on my phone.
In less than a minute, I’m walking out of the hotel room, and calling them back.
Matty answers on the first ring. “I can’t believe you hung up on me Regan, this is an emergency.” Her voice is edging to the same level of hysteria as Jack’s was and a renewed sense of urgency propels me away from the elevator and toward the stairs.
“Tell me what is going on. I heard a gunshot.”
There’s a beat of silence and I know she’s annoyed that I ignored her complaint. When she speaks her voice is taut with annoyance. “Dan was hit in the leg.”
I come to a complete stop in the hallway, my hand cover my eyes as horror and confusion kick my heartbeat into overdrive. “By who?” I shout when I find my voice again.
“It was an accident,” Matty says as if she can’t believe she’s having to explain herself.
“What the hell are you doing with a gun?” Anger dislodges my shock and I start walking again.
“It was just in case. He was supposed to have his laptop on him, but he didn’t. Then, he wouldn’t tell us where it was, so I waved the gun at him. It went off and he was hit in the leg. He said it was in his office.”
“Why are you at his house? What in the world do you need his laptop for?” I fly down the stairs two at a time.
“He was supposed to come straight from the airport. We were going to take his laptop and get him to sign a confession and take it to the police,” Matty explains.
“A confession about what?” I ask, in a guarded voice. I grab the railing of the stairs and sink down on one of the steps. This is so much worse than I thought.
There are a few seconds of silence, and I know that she’s counting to five, the way she does whenever she’s trying not to lose it.
Dan has been my grandfather’s right-hand for the last twenty years. He’s the most upstanding, straight-laced person I know. Whatever they think he’s done, they’re wrong.
“This isn’t the time to explain. He’s okay. It’s not even bleeding anymore. But we need that laptop. Please just go and get it.”
“If you want me to do anything other than hang up and call 9-1-1, you better start explaining why you were at Dan Harrison’s house in the middle of the night waiting for him to come home.” I’m not bluffing. I never do. And she knows it.
A tense silence yawns between us and I wait for her to decide what happens next.
“We think he’s the John Rebecca mentioned at Wilde.”
“Please tell me you are not fucking serious. What in the hell?”
“I know you think it’s bullshit, but it’s not.” Matty’s voice is just as insistent as mine.
“Oh my God. What have you done?” I groan, despair lodged in my throat like a tumor.
“You said you didn’t want anything to do with it. So, we didn’t tell you. But we kept digging Regan and we know it’s him. But we need that laptop. Please, help us. I promise this isn’t a whim. We have proof.”
“Then why’d you break into his house and hold a gun on him?” I ask acidly.
. “Because we need his laptop. There’s evidence on there.”
“Then, call the police. I don’t want to be in your little circle of trust now that your harebrained scheme is blowing up in your faces.” I growl.
She’s quiet for so long that I start to relax, maybe I’ve finally gotten through to her. Her next words shatter that hope.
“There are pictures of Jack on that laptop. She saw them.” Her voice is full of meaning I wish I could pretend to misunderstand. Jack hasn’t let anyone take her picture in 6 years. Not since that night. A shiver runs over my body and my mouth goes dry. I close my eyes against the wave of nausea that comes out of nowhere. I double over and take a deep breath to try and stem it. I know I won’t throw up. I never do. But it still feels like I need to.
“Are you there? Regan?” Matty calls.
“What kind of pictures?” I ask, dread making my voice hoarse.
“From when Silk had us,” she says it with deliberate brevity.
At the mention of Weston Silk, my insides turn to water and my legs threaten to give out underneath me. I slide down the wall and land with a thud on my rump.
“How? How? Pops got rid of all of them,” I say as I stare at the floor unseeing, my fingers pinch the bridge of my nose.
“He must not have been able to. Or, maybe other people got them before he did. He was looking at them during a meeting and she was sitting right behind him. She’s worked with him for five years and that fucker has never looked at her longer than it’s taken him to complain about his coffee not being sweet enough.” Her voice breaks with angry tears and leaden weight forms in my gut. “We followed him. He went to this place all the way out by the Ship Channel. It looked like a club, but there was nothing but a neon light in the shape of a thunderbolt over the door.”
I close my eyes and take a few shuddering breaths to try and calm my racing pulse and fight back the nausea that threatens.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence?” I’m desperate for this not to be true.
“Regan. Stop. It’s not. And you know it. Go get that laptop. His office is locked but I know you have the master. I’m texting you his address. Bring it.” Then, she hangs up in my face.
>
I can’t even find the will to be angry with her.
This is all my fault.
When we got back to campus to start our sophomore year, our friendship was just a shell of its former self.
Jack moved off campus with her boyfriend.
Matty and I signed up to be roommates at the end of our freshman year, but I could tell when we moved in that she was having the same regrets about that as I was.
They never said it aloud, but I knew they must blame me for what happened, and I was plagued with guilt for taking them there.
We barely saw each other.
We never spoke about what happened.
One night, less than a month after we’d been back at school, we’d been working in our room with the news in the background when Matty screamed. I followed her slack jawed, wide eyed expression and turned to the television. And nearly fainted when I saw the face on the screen.
Her hair was a different color and she had two black eyes and a swollen nose but those dark brown, haunted eyes – so much like mine - were forever burned in my memory.
She was the only other person we saw while we were held at Weston’s house. When we were rescued, I begged her to come with us.
She just stared up at me with terrified eyes, tears running down her face, her lips were pressed together like she was holding back a scream. And then, one of my grandfather’s security men came and whisked me out of there. I couldn’t stop wondering what on the outside could make the hell of that house seem like a safer option than leaving.
When my grandfather told us that Weston had been killed by one of his men and that there had been no one left in the house when his team left, I told myself that she’d found a way out.
But now, she was under arrest, and was being charged with all of his crimes. Just the way my grandfather said we would be if we talked to the police.
Weston’s mother was interviewed on the broadcast. Her hair the same red as her son’s, her eyes full of malice as she talked about their son like he was the victim. “He was going places until she got her hooks into him. Now, she’ll always be a footnote on the pages of his history. Like the Jezebel she is.”
The Rivals Page 70