by Hope Stone
We had been in a rush last night, so Claire must not have been paying too much attention to where she placed her purse, I thought with a grin. I tossed the purse on the couch before bending down to scoop up the notebook. I had seen it on Claire before and I figured it must be her journal or day planner.
It was private, that was for sure, and I had no intention of snooping through it.
But it fell face down on the floor, with its cover open and pages splayed out. So that when I picked it up, I did see the top of one page. I just saw two words, but they were enough to make me stop in my tracks as my blood ran cold.
Outlaw Souls.
Those were the two words written in big letters across the top of one page. I held the book and looked straight ahead. I didn’t want to read it. I knew in that moment, reading whatever was in that book was not going to make me feel good. Yes, Claire could have just been writing a diary entry about me and biker clubs. Or she could have been penciling the barbecue into her schedule. There were plenty of innocent explanations.
But when I saw those letters, written in such a neat and purposeful hand (every letter clearly defined), I knew there was no easy explanation. That wasn’t Claire. Whatever was in this notebook, it wasn’t innocent or simple. The back of my neck prickled with apprehension.
I knew the notebook held nothing good, and yet I had to read it. I couldn’t just set it aside. Those were my people. My family. If Claire was writing about them in her notebook, I had to see for myself what she was saying.
I could ask Claire about it, but I would never know if whatever she told me was the truth. And I had to know. There was no way forward if I didn’t know.
Slowly, I turned the book in my hands and looked down. Claire had perfect handwriting. I don’t know why I fixated on that first, but she did. Every letter was formed with total preciseness. It made reading her notes easy.
In a matter of seconds, I had my answers. I skimmed a few pages, then flipped back and read a few more pages with more care. An investigation.
Claire was investigating the Outlaw Souls.
She actually thought we were dealing drugs and stealing underaged girls and boys away from their families. She had met my brothers, shared food and laughed with them, but the whole time she was taking notes on them. The whole time, she was able to look them in the eyes while she suspected them of horrible things.
And me. I was selfish enough that I wasn’t just furious about her suspicions of Outlaw Souls. I was angrier about how she had used me. Sleeping with me that first night after the club, inviting me over to eat takeout, going to the barbecue with me. And last night.
It had all been an act. Her every move was orchestrated to wind me around her little finger. She had wanted me to let my guard down so she could start to pry. And I had been too stupid to see any of it. Claire wasn’t just naturally curious about the club, she had asked specific questions to help her fish for details about our lifestyle and income. She probably hadn’t even enjoyed the bike ride, she had just pretended to so I would invite her into my life a little bit more.
Everything had been a deception. Every touch, every kiss, perhaps even her moans of passion.
I had laid my heart bare for her. I had told her things I had never told anyone. The story she recited back was probably fabricated in the moment. And I had drank it up. Believed every word.
I was an idiot. Despite everything I had seen in my life, despite the fact that I of all people should have known better, I fell for her act hook, line and sinker.
I knew I should rage. I should want to throw the book across the room and start tearing her apartment apart. I knew I should scream at her until she woke up. But for the first few seconds, as everything settled in, I felt nothing. My heart was utterly iced over. My mind was moving fast, but my emotions had paused.
The ground had not shifted, but everything else was crumbling down around me.
I heard rustling from the bedroom behind me, and then the sound of Claire’s footfalls. I turned and saw her in the doorway, and that’s when the anger began to rise.
Twenty-Two
Claire
I swung my legs over the bed and reached my arms above my head for a satisfying stretch.
Once I had fallen asleep, it had been a long and dreamless slumber. I smiled as I glanced at the indent where Pin had lain. I had heard him in the kitchen as I drifted in and out of sleep, but it was quiet now, so I figured it was time to eat.
I still knew I had to tell him the truth about the investigation today, but somehow the morning made everything seem a bit better. With the sun shining, and the smell of coffee wafting through the air, I was feeling more optimistic.
In the dark of night, it had been easy to think my mistakes might cost me Pin. But in the morning, I had more confidence in my ability to tell the story in a way that made him understand.
As for convincing him that my feelings for him were real, that had to be possible. They were real. My feelings had never been so strong for anyone, he had to see the truth in that at least. With breakfast in my stomach and some coffee in my hand, I could do this.
I slipped off my bed and grabbed a baggy white t-shirt from my dresser drawer. I pulled on some underwear and splashed some water on my face. I smiled at my reflection. I had never been fussy about hair and makeup to begin with, and I also knew that Pin didn’t care. He liked me as I was. The sexiness of that nearly took my breath away.
I popped out of the bathroom and headed towards my bedroom door. I was about to call out a greeting when I saw him.
He was standing stock-still in the middle of my living room, his back turned from me.
In his hands was my notebook. My dark green notebook with all the details of the current case. It was open, and he was reading it.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. I could only stare in horror as he turned. If I had hoped that maybe he hadn’t read that much or didn’t understand, that hope vanished when I saw his expression.
A million emotions rippled across his face. Hurt and pain and shock. But most of all fury. He had a right to that. He had a right to feel anger.
“Pin,” I gasped. “It’s not what you think.”
His eyes hardened, and I didn’t dare go nearer. I knew Pin would never strike me, no matter how livid he was, but I also didn’t want to make him storm out. I wanted to explain. It was happening all wrong, but I could still explain.
“So it’s not a notebook about how you think the Outlaw Souls have kidnapped children and are using them to deal drugs,” Pin said.
His voice was low and lethal. I had never heard him sound so flat and cold.
“It’s an investigation,” I said.
I wanted to cry, and I could feel my lower lip trembling, but I held it steady. I was made of stronger stuff than that. I could stay tough through this.
“Those teens are missing, and Outlaw Souls were the main suspects when the case was assigned,” I said.
“Oh, I see,” Pin said. “And lucky it got assigned to a whore like you who had zero problems fucking me until I gave you the answers you wanted.”
“Don’t call me that!” I shouted.
“Why?” Pin asked. “It’s what you are.”
It infuriated me how he kept his voice so quiet when all I could do was nearly scream. My own anger began to boil in my stomach.
“I am not a whore,” I cried. “And I didn’t mean for things to happen the way they did, I promise, just let me explain.”
“No,” Pin said. “You don’t get to explain – how am I supposed to believe a word that comes out of your fucking mouth?”
Now he was raising his voice. His fury was overriding his control, and he was pointing at me with one angry hand while he still gripped the notebook in his other.
“I know now that the Outlaw Souls didn’t do anything,” I said. “But a few days ago, I didn’t. I had to follow the lead I was given.”
Pin turned and slammed the notebook down on the table.
I hated how his words sounded true. He was wrong about me. I hadn’t slept with him for my job. But some of his sentences still rang true.
“I wasn’t faking my feelings,” I said. “You have to believe me.”
“Fuck you, Claire,” Pin said. “I don’t have to believe a thing you say.”
I recoiled from him as if he had hit me. It almost felt like he had, his words landing like missiles on my face. A lump rose in my throat. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, not while he was yelling at me like this. He couldn’t see my tears.
I swallowed the lump and surged forward.
“Fuck you!” I screamed. “Kids are missing, Pin, and I have to find them. I don’t care if you’re too self-centered to listen.”
“We didn’t take anyone!” Pin shouted. “We would never, we’re not Las Balas! We have a code, and if you weren’t such a shitty PI, you would have realized that in a matter of seconds!”
I saw red. He could insult my values. He could say horrible things about me as a person, but he could not insult my ability to do my job.
“Only an idiot wouldn’t have looked into Outlaw Souls,” I said. “Bikers were all over this case, and I’m sorry that I used you, that things got out of hand, but I had to do it.”
I crossed my arms and willed a mask of strength to fall over my face. We couldn’t have a real conversation about my feelings. Not when Pin was like this. And he might always be like this.
It was over. I had waited too long, and I had messed up everything. Now all I could do was hold onto my dignity.
“That’s what you call what happened with us?” Pin asked, eyes widening. “It just got out of hand?”
I flinched. It wasn’t what I had meant to say, but I mentally injected steel into my spine. I would not back down from him. I put a tight leash on my emotions.
“You won’t listen to me, so I don’t have to explain myself,” I said. “I already told you I didn’t fake things with you and last night was real.”
“Don’t fucking talk about last night,” Pin said.
He turned around and gripped the table. I stood still as he took several deep breaths. When he turned around, it seemed as if he had calmed down. He had shoved all his pain into some deep corner. I felt awful that I had been the cause of this. I had hurt him so badly that he was lashing out, like a wounded animal.
After he had been so hesitant to trust anyone. After he had feared how anyone who got close would betray him. I did feel bad. But I was angry at him too. He wasn’t even trying to see my side.
“I just got hired for a job,” I said. “They told me to look into Outlaw Souls, and I did it. It’s not personal.”
I regretted the last sentence as soon as it left my mouth.
First of all, it was a lie. The case had gotten personal almost the second I had heard about it. I hated that I was lying to him again, even after he had accused me of being a liar, and I had denied it.
“You’re a cold-hearted bitch,” Pin said. “You really are.”
My heart shattered in two. But I couldn’t show it. What right did I have to a broken heart? I was the villain here. The bitch. The whore. The heartless slut.
I blinked rapidly and pressed my lips. “Get out of my apartment.”
Pin stepped back and opened his mouth. He probably had more to say. More cruel things to yell at me or more horrible names. I didn’t care. I wanted him to leave. I couldn’t draw this whole ordeal out any longer.
“Stop looking into Outlaw Souls,” Pin said. “Don’t even come near us.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I had just lost him, I wasn’t going to give up my job as well. “You know I have to continue with this case.”
“No, you don’t,” Pin said. “And we have nothing to do with those missing kids.”
“That may be true,” I said. “But I have to keep looking.”
For a second, I thought he was going to yell again. I braced myself for his shouting. Instead, he turned on his heel and stomped over to the couch. I stood stock-still as he grabbed his jacket and boots. He didn’t even put his shoes on. He just headed for the door, as if he couldn’t stand one more second in my presence.
I looked away as he slammed my door shut behind him. I didn’t want to see him leave. I was going to have to live the rest of my life with this memory, and it was already bad enough.
As soon as he was gone, my legs gave out. I crumbled onto the floor and clutched my knees to my chest as great heaving sobs erupted from my chest. All the tears I had held in came pouring down my face. I hadn’t cried this hard for as long as I could remember, if ever.
Maybe I had cried like this when I was little and fell off my bike, but I couldn’t remember it being this painful. This was a level of hurt I’d never known before. Because my heart was being ripped out of my chest. The beautiful future I had dared to dream of was crumbling before my own eyes, and it was all my fault.
That was the worst part. If someone else had been to blame, if Pin had done something wrong, and I had ended up losing him, I would still cry. But it wouldn’t be as horrible. I could still point my finger at someone else and plot revenge on someone else.
But how was I supposed to get revenge on myself?
I knew the answer as soon as I posed the question. Living with the mistakes I had made, living my life without Pin, always wondering what could have been, was going to be punishment enough. I had told lies before. I had always justified them. They were for the greater good, or lies of politeness, or even for survival. Nothing bad had ever happened, so I just kept lying. I carried deception around with me like a shield and weapon all in one.
Now it has all caught up to me. Every little white lie, every day I had spent pretending to be someone other than who I was, I was paying for all that now.
I sat on the floor of my apartment for almost an hour, as tears poured down my face in an unpausing river. I gasped for breath and blew my nose in my shirt and patted my face dry, but the tears just kept coming.
At one point, I thought I heard footsteps in the hall. I thought he was coming back, maybe to listen, maybe to tell me that he knew I had messed up, but he believed me that I hadn’t been faking my feelings.
But it was all in my head. He wasn’t coming back. After I realized that, I cried even harder.
He was never going to believe that the night before had been anything but a twisted manipulation. He was never going to see that I hadn’t been making a desperate play for information. And on top of using him, I had insulted the one thing he cared about above all else, the Outlaw Souls.
I cried, and I cried. Three times I told myself to pull it together. To get off the floor and keep moving. Shit happened. Life went on. Each time, I just curled up into a smaller ball and wept out a fresh batch of tears.
When my back and bottom started to hurt, I lay down on my side. I relished the hardness of my wooden floor against my cheek and side. I didn’t deserve softness. I wasn’t worthy of a bed. I certainly hadn’t been worthy of Pin’s bed. He had been everything I could possibly want. He had been funny and cool and smart and kind-hearted. He was an accountant, which was just perfect and endearing in every way.
He had been so good at being with me. He had understood me when I told him what I wanted out of life. He had laughed at my jokes and made me laugh in return. He had admired my career. He definitely did not anymore, but in the beginning he had thought my job was amazing. He had shown me how much he liked me. He had taken me to that barbecue and invited me into his inner sanctuary, unaware that I entered bearing matches and kerosene.
He had even made me breakfast, and it was sitting right there on the counter, taunting me with its scent. I had fallen in love with him. That was the
truth I had to face as I lay there sobbing on my floor.
I had found something that some people spend a lifetime searching for, but I had been too stupid to even realize my luck until it was too late. I could have owned up to everything earlier. I could have told Pin about the investigation after he spent a night on my couch. I could have told him before the barbecue, or even after. He would have listened.
But I had waited and convinced myself that was for the best.
I cried, and I cried, and I knew that this wasn’t like the time I fell off my bike as a child. Those scrapes and bruises had healed with time. The pain had faded. That wasn’t going to happen now. Time was not going to make this better.
This was never, ever going to stop hurting.
Twenty-Three
Pin
I couldn’t stop replaying the scene with Claire in my head.
Even as I raced along the highway on my bike, when I should have been focusing on the road, I kept seeing her face. I kept hearing her telling me to listen, telling me that she had no choice. The roar of my engine couldn’t drown out how stiff and cold she had sounded when she told me to leave.
I didn’t regret anything I had said. She had lied to me, and it hurt me to think of how the whole time I was worshipping her in bed, she had an ulterior moment. She had probably been wondering how to leverage our new level of intimacy.
I didn’t know where I was headed. Just away. If I stayed in La Playa, I would go back to her. I would yell at her some more or beg her to explain, and I didn’t know which was worse.
I had turned back as soon as I exited the apartment building. I had stood near the mailboxes for way too long, and then climbed back up the stairs. I had made it all the way to her door.
And then I heard.
Horrible gut-wrenching sobs came from within. Every bone in my body longed to break down that door and go to her. Even though I knew better, I had cared for her and those feelings wouldn’t evaporate. Every instinct I had longed to comfort Claire if she was in pain. I wanted to hold her and rock her while she cried into my chest.