TheHunter
Copyright?2020byL.J.Shen
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,distributed,ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,includingphotocopying,recording,orotherelectronicormechanicalmethods,withoutpriorconsentofthepublisher,exceptinthecaseofbriefquotationembodiedincriticalreviewsandcertainothernoncommercialusepermittedbycopyrightlaw.
Resemblancetoactualpersonsandthingslivingordead,locales,oreventsisentirelycoincidental.TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
AboutThisBook
Epigraph
Playlist
Prologue
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
PreviewofPrettyReckless
BooksbyL.J.Shen
ConnectwithL.J.ShenToYaminaKirkyandNinaDelfs.Thankyouforbeingabsolutelyfabulous.Boston’sdebauchedeliteisgoingupinflames,andit’stheFitzpatrickfamilythatsetitonfire.
Ididn’tmeantostarinasextape,okay?
Itwasjustoneofthoseunexplainablethings.LikeStonehenge,PoliceAcademy2,andmorninggloryclouds.
Itjusthappened.
Nowmyball-bustingfatherissentencingmetosixmonthsofcelibacy,sobriety,andmorbidboredomundertheroofofBoston’snerdiestgirlalive,SailorBrennan.
ThevirginalarcherissupposedtobabysitmyasswhileIlearntotakemyplaceinRoyalPipelines,myfamily’soilcompany.
Littledoessheknow,that’snottheonlypipeI’llbelaying…
Ididn’twantthisgig,okay?
Butthedealwastoosweettowalkawayfrom.
Ineededthepublicendorsement;Hunterneededananny.
Besides,what’ssixmonthsinthegrandschemeofthings?
It’snotlikeI’mindangeroffallinginlovewiththeappallinglygorgeous,charismaticgazillionairewhohappenstobeoneofBoston’smosteligiblebachelors.
No.IwillremainimmunetoHunterFitzpatrick’scharm.
EvenatthecostoflosingeverythingIhave.
Evenatthecostofburningdownhiskingdom.“Ihopeshe’llbeafool—that’sthebestthingagirlcanbeinthisworld,abeautifullittlefool.”
―F.ScottFitzgerald,TheGreatGatsby
Inthisbook,sheisn’t.“ALittlePartyNeverKilledNobody”—Fergie
“TheQuietThingsThatNoOneEverKnows”—BrandNew
“KillandRun”—Sia
“Truly,Madly,Deeply”—SavageGarden
“OneArmedScissor”—AtTheDrive-in
“WhenYouWereYoung”—TheKillers
“Lullaby”—TheCureOnceuponatimetherewasamagiccastleinwhicheverythingwiltedbutthesoulofoneboy.
Hewassixwhenshemethim.
Thegirlhadarrivedwithhermothertoprepareafestivemealforhisfamily.Sheroamedthehallways,glidingoverthemarblefloorsofhismansiononsockedfeet.Shewasfive—fartooyoungtoappreciatethegrandarchesandcourtyardsofroses.Sheslidbackandforth,occupyingherselfuntilhermotherwasdone,whilethundercrackedoutside.
ItwasthekindofwinterBostonianstalkedaboutforyearsafterward,unyieldingandpersistent.Thedarkskyshotneedlesofhaildownonthecastle,theicebangingoverthecurvedwindowsangrily.ThegirlslidtowardoneoftheGothicwindows,pressingherhandagainstthecoldglass.
Shewassurprisedtoseeasmallshadowlyingonasunbedbythepool,outintherain.Aboy.Helayverystill,lettingthedownpourhithimwithoutresistance.Hesimplytookit,acceptingthepunishinglashesofhailonhisskin.
Panicked,thegirlbegantopoundthewindow.Whatifhewasinjured?Unconscious?Dead?Didsheevenknowwhatdeathmeant?Sheheardaboutitsometimes,whenherparentsthoughtshewasn’tlistening.
Shebangedtheglassharder.Hisheadturnedslowlyherway—lazily,almostlikeshewasofnoimportance.
Hisgray-bluesmetherlightgreens.
“Comein!”sheshouted,lookingleftandrighttofindadoorhandle.
Heshookhishead.
“Please!”shecried.
“They’resendingmeaway.”Shereadhismovinglips,butcouldn’thearhim.“I’mleaving.”
“Where?Whereareyougoing?”shecalled.
Buthejustturnedaround,anglinghisfacetowardthesky,welcomingthewhiplashofthehail.
Hiseyeswereopen,shenoticed.Shefollowedhisgaze,lookingupattheblackvelvetofthenight.Therewasnomoon.Nosun.Theearthseemedsoterriblylonelywithoutoneofthemtowatchoverit.
Thegirlwonderedwhatwouldhappenifthesunkissedthemoon.
Shehadnoideashe’dfindananswertothatquestiononeday.
Orthatthepersontogiveittoherwouldbethatverylonelyboy.Present
“Timetowakeup,CaptainMcCrabson,”myfriend/angelonmyshoulder,KnightCole,announced.ThetipofhisMargielasneakernudgedmyback.
Basedonthehardsurfaceunderneathmyachingmuscles,IgatheredI’dcrashedontheflooragain.Andbythestickyfeelinginmygroin,followedbythebreezerollingthroughmyneatlytrimmedpubes,IknewI’dshovedmycockintoholesIshouldn’thavethenightbefore,andIwasgloriouslynaked.
Igroaned,squeezingmyeyesshutandrollingoverontopofanotherwarm,nakedbody.Tits.Ifelttits.Nice,plump,andnatural.Withoutopeningmyeyes,Ibroughtanippleintomymouth,sucklingonitidly.
“Wantsomecoffeewithyourmilk?”Knightwonderedaloud.
Myhanddescendeditswayalongthechick’sstomach,downtoherholygrail.Shewaswetandhot,archingherback,herthighsquiveringwithneed.Ibegantorubherswollenclit,preppingher.Mycockyawneditswayintoasemi,justasanotherbodypressedagainstmefrombehind.
Jackpot.
“Takingyourcoffeewithmilkislikegoingdownonawomanwithacondomonyourtongue.TheItalianswouldexileyouforless,”Imurmured,eyesstillclosed,mylipsagainstthisgirl’sskin.
“Thanksfortheimagery,”VaughnSpencer,myothergoodfriend,quippedflatly.
“Paynoheedtome,oldsport.”Myavailablehandpattedthefleshbehindme,curlingtheotherchick’slegovermywaist.Wherearemycondoms?WhywereKnightandVaughnofferingmecoffeeandconversationinsteadofarubber?Theyshouldbefiredandreplacedwithwingmenwho’dactuallyhelpmescore.NotthatIhadanytroubleinthatdepartment.“Justthrowmearubberbeforeyouleave,willya?”
“Giveyourcockatimeoutandwakethefuckup.”Amuddybootfounditswaytothesideofmyhead,threateningtosquashmyskull.
Vaughn,AKAthedevilonmyshoulder.
Onanyone’sshoulder,really.
Ihadalove-haterelationshipwiththemotherfucker.
Love,becausehewas,afterall,oneofmybestfriends.
Hate,becausehewas,despitetheabovementionedtitle,acuntofgargantuanproportions.
Myeyespoppedopen.Therestofmybodysignaledmybrainthatthisorgymightdieprematurely.Grainsofsandanddirtfromhisbootdustedmytemple.Ifeltmynostrilsflaring,mypulsespikingup.
Thegirlinfrontofme,Alice,grinnedsleepilyasshecurvedherback,plasteringherbreaststomychestencouragingly.Shit.Iwasstillfingeringher.Itwashardnottowhenshemadeallthosedeliciousnoises.Iremovedmyhandfromherpussyreluctantly.Thegirlbehindme,atleast,hadthedecencytostophumpingmyleglikeaguineapigthathadjustdiscovereditsgenitals.
“Getyourfilthy-assbootawayfrommyface,”Ihissedthroughclenchedteeth,“beforeIsnapyourspineanduseitasascarf.”
BothVaughnandIknewthiswasanidlethreat.Mymanicuredhandsweren’tbigonviolence.Infact,Iwouldn’thurtanantifitkilledmyentireimmediatefamily.Imean,Iwouldbemad.Livid.AndI’dsueforemotionaldistress,forsure.Butgetmyhandsdirty?Nah.
Itwasn’tfearoffightingthatstoppedmebutthesheerindolencethatcamewithmyaristocraticupbringing.AsthesonofGeraldFitzpatrick,ownerandCEOofRoyalPipelines,thebiggestoilandgascompanyintheUnitedStates,Irarelyneededtorisetotheleveloftakingcareofmyownshit.TheFitzpatrickfamilywasthefourthrichestintheentireUSofA,andthatmademealazy,self-entitledasswipe.
“Youandanotherdudebrotag-teamedfivechicksyesterday.”Vaughnkepthisfootonmytemple.
Thisviolentactwasprobablythehighlightofhisweek.Whyhecouldn’tfindthesimplejoysoflifeinbooze,women,andoverpricedclothesfromagingrapperswasbeyondme.Hemadeeverythingseemsofuckingcomplicated.
“Idid?”Myeyebrowsshottomyforehead,genuinesurprisetingedwithpridefillingmychest.“AretheGuinnesspeopleontheirwayhere?WilltheybringactualGuinness?Ifindstouttobefarsuperiortolager.”
“Smashhisskull.Hedeservesit,”Knightgroanedabovemyhead.
Thatwasrichcomingfromhim.HehadahistorywithboozethatcouldrivalLordByronandBenjaminFranklinatanall-you-can-drinkKohSamuibar.Nowthathehadagirlfriend,Iworriedthatiftheywereevertoconceive,she’dgivebirthtoabottleoftequilaandtwoticketstoCoachella.
“IalsoanswertoGodandDamn,HunterYou’reSoBig,”Imumbled,brieflyconsideringaquicknapunderVaughn’sboot.
Hey,itwasn’tlikehe’dshiftedanyrealweightontoit.
Thetwogirlsungluedthemselvesfromme.Theywerenowmakingbackgroundnoise,pickinguptheirclothes,gettingdressed.Icheckedmysurroundingsforthefirsttimesinceopeningmyeyes.IwasinVaughn’slivingroom,judgingbytheplush,crèmeupholstery,drippingchandeliers,and8k-a-piecebrasslamps.
Thecarpetfeltsticky,andtheblindsweretorn.DaddyandMommySpencerwouldbegladtogetridoftheirassholespawn,whowasflyingouttoEnglandforaninternshipsoon.
“Youfuckedupbigtime.”KnighthoistedmeoutfromunderVaughn’sboot,hurlingmeonthesofaandthrowingaquiltovermynow-impressive,raginghard-on.
Hedidn’tlookdirectlyatmeashespoke,likeitwasmyfaultI’dbeenblessedwithaphysiquefitforconstantnudityandaneight-inchdick.
“AllIheardwasthewordfuck,andI’mdefinitelygameforthat.”Ipattedthetablenexttothecouch,foundapackofcigarettesthatwasn’tmineandalighter,andlitone,puffingsmokeupward.Ionlysmokedoccasionally,butcouldn’tpassuptheopportunitytolooklikeanassholewhenitpresenteditself.“Why’dyoucockblockme?”Isquinted,pointingthecigarettebetweenVaughnandKnight,whostoodinfrontofme,handsonhips,full-fledgedandshit.
“Therewasaleak.”Vaughn’sicicleeyestaperedwithdispleasure.
Iwavedhimoffwiththecigarette.“That’sjustanaturaldischargedesignedtotellyouthefemalebodyisreadyformating.You’dknowthatifyoufuckedwomenwhowerealive.Isthisaboutyourparents’carpets?BecauseI’llsendSylliethebill.”
Syllie—SylvesterLewis—wasmyfather’srighthandandCOObackinBoston.Hedidsolidsformeonthereg.Hisjob,amongothers,wastokeepmealiveandoutoftrouble,whichmeanthewasbasicallysetupforfailure.Ididn’tcallhimoften,butwhenIdid,itwasbecauseIneededtobailoutofsomethingheinousI’dgottenmyselfinto.
MyparentshatedwhenIgavethembadpress.
Sofar,Sylliehadhelpedmepayfines,avoidaDUIcharge,anddiscreetlydealwithanastycaseofthecrabs.
“Aleakonsocialmedia,youmoron,”Knightclarified,leaningdowntoflickthebackofmyhead.
Itwasn’tlikemyfriendstobeseriousorworried.Isatupandsecuredthequiltaroundmynarrowwaist,restingmychinonmyknucklesthoughtfully.
“I’mlistening.”
(Iwasn’t.IwasthinkingaboutwhoIwantedtofucktonight.)
MaybeArabella.
No,definitelyArabella.Shewasthehottestpieceofassthatwasstillsingleintown.
“Recap.”Knightclappedhishandsonce.“Yesterday,afterVaughn’sinternshipparty,wecamebackheretokickit.Youhadanorgywithfivegirlsonthemainfloor.Atsomepoint,someotherguybuttedin—punintended—butmostly,itwasyoudoingthefucking.Itwasn’tinthemediaroom,sophonesweren’tconfiscated.VaughnandIwereupstairsandcouldn’tsaveyoufromyourmoronicself.”HeturnedtoVaughn,jerkinghischinforhimtofinishthestory.
Vaughncrossedhisarmsoverhischestandtookitfromthere.“Tomakealong,excruciatinglygrossstoryshort,aboutadozenpeoplefilmedtheentirethingwiththeirphones.SomeuploadeditonYouTube,sometoTwitter,sometoSnapchat.Thoseweretakendown,asfarasweknow.Buttheonesonthepornsites?Thosearestillavailable.Andlet’sjustsaywhatyoulackinacademicachievements,youmakeupforasanadultentertainer.”
AssoonasVaughnfinishedhissentence,Knighthandedmehisphone,thebrowseropenonsaidsexvideo.(Whydidpeoplecallthemtapes?Thatwassofuckingeighties.)Ihitplay.Itwasthemostpopularsiteontheinternet,actually.Itwasalsofree,which,I’dheardthroughrumorsonthestreet,wassomethingmiddle-classpeoplewerefondof.
Thevideoalreadyhad1.2millionviewsandan89-percentcustomersatisfactionrate.
Damn.
Thetagsonthevideoincluded:#FratParty#Orgy#Hotsluts#Cheerleaders#Billionaire#Anal#Oral#69#Creampie#TagTeam#BestFriendsEx
AndallIcouldthinkwas,Imanagedallthosethingsinthespanoftwentyminuteswithonedick?Im-fucking-pressive.
Iwasdead-assserious.WeretheGuinnesspeoplecomingforme,orwhat?
Thetitleofthepornvideowas“PoloBillionairePrinceFucksFiveChicks.”
Theprincepartwasdope.Ithadanobleringtoit.Polowasn’tmypassion,butIstillplayedittopleasemynever-pleasedfather.Alltherestseemedsolidaswell,otherthanthefratpartypart.Andsinceallofuswereoflegalage(Iknewallthechicksinthevideo),Iguesseditwouldbeabitchtotakedown.
Iwatchedasthreefellowrecenthighschoolgraduates—Alice,Stacee,andSophia—giggledintothecameraandstruttedtheirwaytome,assesdangling,highheelsonfulldisplay.Iwasonthecouch,gettingsuckedbyachicknamedKyliewhileanotherone,Bianca,wascirclingmynipplewithherpiercedtongue.Iwaswearinganopenvarsityjacketwithnoshirt,myjeansrolleddowntomyshins.Thecamerazoomedout,andthepersonshootingthevideoandIpoundedit.HeloweredthecameratoshowthathewasfuckingKyliefrombehindwhileshewassuckingmeoff.Hecameonherlowerback,steppingbackandtuckinginhissemi.Afterfiveminutesofacrobatics,Isomehowmanagedtogetmyhands,mouth,anddickonallfiveofthegirlscombined.
Thevideowasalmosttwentyminuteslong,and—inmyhumbleopinion—hotassin.IlookedupfromitwhenIwasdone,handingKnighthisphoneback.Therewasabeatofsilenceasmyfriendswaitedformetoprocesstheinformationthey’dpummeledintomyhungoverbrain.
“Whowastheotherdude?”Iyawned.
“Briansomething.”Knightscrunchedhisnose.
“Branson,”Vaughncompleted.
“BrianBranson?”Iblinked.Unfortunatename.“Wow.Hisparentshatehimmorethanminehateme.”
“Notafterthepileofpornshityouleftattheirdoorstepthismorning,”Knightcommentedhelpfully.
Ihadn’tevenheardofBrianBransonbeforetoday,butI’dsharedasexualencounterwithhim.WhichIguessedwassomethingIcouldsayaboutthemajorityofpeopleinTodosSantos.Islappedmythigh,movingonwiththeplan.
“So,areweheadingtoBenny’sforbreakfastor…?”
“Youidiot.”Knightwhite-knuckledhisphone,resistingtheurgetohurlitatme.“You’reindeeptrouble.Stacee,Kylie,andBiancaarepressingchargesagainstyou.They’realreadyatthepolicestation.Wejustgotthetext.”
ThatexplainedwhyAliceandSophiaweretheonlyonesherethismorning.
“Forwhat?Iwasn’ttheonedoingthefilming.Ifanything,I’masmuchavictimastheyare.”Istubbedthehalf-finishedcigaretteonitspacktoputitout,smokeskulkingfrommymouthasIspoke.“Besides,theycanhardlyclaimitwasn’tconsensual.Imean…”ImotionedwithmyhandtoKnight’sphone.Inthevideo,Staceeletmepulloutofher,peeloffthecondom,andjizzalloverherface.She’dlickedthehot,whitecumfromhercheekandgiggledindelightwhileKyliesuckedmycocksohardshealmostswallowedit.NottomentionBianca,whodidalltheworkwhilewedidareversecowgirlwithKyliesittingonmyface,bouncingitlikeIwasatrampoline.
“You’reasstupidasarock,andsadly,justaboutasendearing,”Vaughnsaidgravely,turningaroundandliftingshitup,lookingforsomething.“You’reanheirtoamulti-million-dollarcompany.Theydon’tneedareasontowanttosueyou.Yousneezeonthem?They’llsayyougavethemtheswineflu.Youhugthem?They’llclaimyoubroketheirbones.Youfuckthem…”Vaughntrailedoff,findingwhathewaslookingforononeofhislamps—myjeans—andthrowingtheminmydirection.
Icaughtthemintheair.
“Nowgetdressed.I’mgoingtohavetorefurnishtheentirefuckinghouseafteryourSTD-festyesterday.Ineedtobleachthewalls.”
“Ineedtobleachmyeyes,”Knightadded.
“IneedtoMeninBlackmybrain,”Vaughnshotback.
KnightpickedupanimaginaryremoteandclickeditinVaughn’sdirection.
“AndHomeAloneyourlifetoavoidanymorepublicorgies,”Knightoffered.
Har-har-ingdryly,Istuffedmylegsintomyjeans.Istillhadn’tfullycomprehendedwhatwashappening.Iexpected,aswitheverythingelse,thatSylliewouldgetmeoutofit.Ifnothim,thenmyauntanduncle,JeanandMichaelBrady.(Yes,theyweretheBradybunch,andyes,Ifoundthatendlesslyamusing,seeingasmyparentshadsentmetotheminhopesthatthey’dbeabletocramintomesomeofthemannersandupper-classdemeanortheprivateschoolsthey’denrolledmeincouldn’t.)
Pointwas,someonealwaysgotmeoutoftrouble,andthatsomeonewas,unfailingly,notme.Gettingoutoftroublemyselfseemedliketediousbusiness,anddon’tgetmestartedonthepotentialpaperwork.
However,lessonlearned.Fromnowon,IwouldpayattentiontowhereIconductedmymassorgies.Onecouldonlybesoreckless.Itwastimetobemorecareful.AndwhileIwasonthesubject,perhapsIshouldlimitmyselftothreegirlsatatime.
Istoodup,bucklingmyLouboutinspiked-leatherbelt,andturnedtoKnight.
“Okay.IthinkI’mreadyforthatcoffeenow.”
Knightsmackedthebackofmyhead.Again.
“You’renotgettingit,areyou?”Hisbrowwrinkled.“Tellmewhotocall.Doyouknowyourlawyer’sname?”
“Damn,son.Whysoserious?YouneedashotofdirtySprite.”
Alsoknownascodeine.AlsoknownasKnight’sversionofwater,beforehegotclean.IknewIwasajerkfaceformentioninghissubstance-abuseproblem,butheletitslide.Plus,hehadhisshittogethernow.HeandVaughngottogostudywhattheywanted,choosewhattheywantedtodowiththeirlives.MyasswasgoingbacktoBostontostudyatHarvard,majoringinbusiness,economics,andallthestuffthatmadeamanwanttohurlhimselfoffaskyscraper.Don’taskmehowIgotintoHarvard.DaprobablydonatedenoughmoneytofeedtheentirestateofMassachusettsforadecadetomakethathappen.Iwouldn’ttrustmetowriteagrocerylist,letaloneanessay.
Ialsowasn’tlookingforwardtotheforcedinternshipatRoyalPipelinesduringthesummers.
“Yourdad?Yourmom?Yourbrother?Sister?WhoshouldIcall?TheBradys,maybe?”Knightwavedhishandbackandforthinfrontofmyface.
Iopenedmymouth,andtherewasaknockonthedoor.Vaughnwenttoanswer.Asecondlater,threepolicemencamein.Iswearoneofthemflexedhisbiceps.Theywerehellahighonthepowertrip.Theburliestone,whosefaceremindedmeofaconstipatedbaboonwithcroppedcopperyhair,recitedmyMirandarightsashegrabbedmyhandsandhandcuffedme.
“HunterErnestVincentFitzpatrick,youareunderarrestforsexualharassment,statutoryrape,andobstructionofjustice.Youhavetherighttoremainsilent.Anythingyousaycanandwillbeusedagainstyouinacourtoflaw.Youhavetherighttospeaktoanattorney,andtohaveanattorneypresentduringanyquestioning.Ifyoucannotaffordalawyer…”Thepoliceofficerstopped,lettingoutagrotesquesnort.Theotherthreeburstintohystericallaughter.
Yeah,yeah,I’mloaded.Hilarious
“If…if…”hetriedagain,throwinghisheadbackandlaughingwithsuchmirth,you’dthinkhewastheoneswimminginit.“Ifyoucannotaffordalawyer,onewillbeprovidedforyouatthegovernment’sexpense,”hefinallyfinished,wipingahappytearfromthecornerofhiseye.
Istaredathimwithaclenchedjaw,feelingastirofangercoursingthroughmyveinsforthefirsttimesinceIwokeup.Ididn’trapeorharassthesegirls.Oranygirls.Itwasasetup.
Theofficerreachedforhispocketandtookoutafifty-dollarbill,slappingitintotheopenpalmofthecopnexttohim.
“Dang,Ireallycouldn’tsayitwithastraightface,Mo.”
They’dbetonmyarrest.Sweet.Thehandcuffsfeltcoldandtightaroundmywrists,andbitintomyfleshunnecessarily.Iwasobviouslyinnodangerofescapingorpouncingoverthefemalecopstandingthere,inallherbaldingpatches,post-acnescars,andthreemissingteethglory.
KnightandVaughnappearednexttome.
“Hey,assholes,doyoumindnotjustifyingeverypolicebrutalitystigmaalive?”Vaughnasked.“Asforyou—”Hejerkedhischintowardme.“—I’mcallingmydad.He’sinVirginiawithmymom,buthe’llflyin,ifneedbe.”
Knightaskedagain,“WhoshouldIcall,man?Talktome.”
TheanswerwasJeanandMichael,ofcourse.Atthispoint,theyfeltmorelikemyparentsthantheoneswho’dsentmeawayfromBostonassoonasIwasoutofdiapers.Theofficersbeganpushingmetowardthedoor.
Vaughncameafterus,hissingtome,“Don’ttellthemanything,youhearme?”
Inodded.“TellKnightnottocallmyda.”
“What?”
Theyshovedmybackinthepolicecar’sdirection.
“JustnotDa,”Imanagedtohowlbeforemyheadwasduckedintothebackseat.“AnyonebutDa!”
Knightgavemetwothumbsup,noddingfromthedoorway.
“Noproblem,dude.I’llcallyourdad!”
“Isaidnottocallmyfather,”Iyelledasthebackdoorofthepolicecarslammedinmyface.
Knightdidn’thearme.
Fuck.
“ThestatutoryrapechargeistheoneIwasmostconcernedabout,butitturnedouttobebullshit.Allsixofyouareovereighteen.Thepolicehadn’tevenhadthecommonsensetocheckIDswhentheyfiledthereport,whichmeansnotonlyaretheygoingtodropthischarge,butwecanalsoslaptheboysinblueonthewrist—alwaysagoodformofdamagecontrol.”
Baron“Vicious”Spencer,Vaughn’sfather,satacrossfrommeinmyuncleandaunt’sstuffyattic,flippingthroughthethickpagesofmycase.Theatticwastheshapeoftheroof.IhadtocrouchonmyseatlikeArnoldSchwarzeneggerinaBarbiedollhousetoaccommodatemyheight.
Twenty-fourhourshadpassedsincemyarrest,andIhadyettotakeashower,adump,orbeatmymeattodecompress.AlthoughBaronwasalawyerbytrade,hedidn’tpracticecriminallaw.Butitwasmyunderstandingthatsometimeshehelpedrelativesandclosefriendswithlegalshit.Itwasalsomyunderstandingthathecharged$5,000anhourtojustifyhisreputationasaworld-classcunt.HeneededthemoneylikeKylieJennerneededmorelips.Thefirstthinghetoldmewasthathewasgoingtooverbillme.
“Justtogetatasteofbeingfucked.Onecannotlivehiswholelifeonlydoingthefucking,”he’dexplainedpoint-blankwhenheenteredthehouseanhourago,afterJeanandMichaelbailedmeoutofjail.
Itookasipofmybottledbeer,tuggingatmyleathernecklacecordwiththewoodenDala.“Andtheothercharges?”
“Thesexualharassmentwillbeahardsell,seeingasthegirlsseemedlucid,active,andpresent.TheobstructionofjusticechargeisduetothefactthatMr.ColehadconfiscatedBianca’sphone.AccordingtoMissEvans,theordercamefromyou.Fortunatelyforyou,atthetimesheenteredthemediaroomandpartywiththerestofstudentswho’dhadtheirphonesconfiscated,yourdickwasalreadysofterthanmarshmallowandyouwerepassedoutonthefloor,longaftertheorgy.Thereareseveralwitnessestoattesttothattimediscrepancy.Inotherwords,yourincompetencesavedyou.”Heglancedupfromthepileofdocuments,hisarcticblueeyesdroppingtheroomtemperaturebytendegrees.
“Alwayshappytobealoser.Sláinte.”Itoastedtheair,takinganothersipofthelager.
Baronhadthesameinkblackhairashisson,identicalglacialeyes,andthehungertobesuccessful,powerful,andcapable.IwonderedwhatitfeltliketobeaSpencer—adept,driven,motivated.Talented.
Ihadnotsofarbeenanyofthosethings.Ihadmoney,yes—morethanIcouldeverspend—andthelookstomatch.Butotherthanthosesuperficialfeatures,Iwasnothing.Anemptyjar.Myfatherhadwarnedmethatthedaypeoplewouldcallmeoutonmyfrivolitywasnear.Ibelievedhim.
WhichwaswhyIdreadedgoingbacktoBostonandstartingcollege—movingbackwithmyfamily.Notdoingsohadn’tbeenanoption.RoyalPipelineshadpassedthroughsixFitzpatrickgenerationsthusfar.
Needlesstosay,IwasinterestedinrunningabusinessalittlelessthanIwasinterestedinanotherpublicorgy,followedbyamini-vacationinajailcell.Butherewastherealityofthings:myolderbrother,Cillian,wassettobecometheCEOofRoyalPipelinestheminuteDakickedthebucket,andIwasgoingtobeCOO.
“When’sthetrial?”Isuckedmyteeth.
“Never.”Baronclosedmyfile,linkinghisfingerstogetheroverthedesk.“Atrialwouldbepublic,messy,time-consuming,andaboveall—verybadpress.Theladies—andIusethetermfuckingloosely—aren’tkeenonhashingoutthedetailsofthemassorgyonthestand,either.Icameupwithageneroussettlementpackageforeachofthem.Theyandtheirfamiliesarecontenttostrikeadeal.Thepackagesincludeatwo-million-dollarcompensationcheckandafullridethroughcollege.Yourfatherandbrotherarepleasedthatthematterissettled.”
Ididn’tforonesecondthinkmyfather’seagernesstotakethedealhadanythingtodowithme.Itwastheheadlinesthatworriedhim.AsforCillian,ifhehadhisway,I’dbeonaleash,lockedinthebasementofmyparents’estate,AveburyCourtManor.
Isatback,playingwiththegood-luckhorseonmyneck.
“Whyarewesigningadeal?Ididn’tdoshit.Yousaidsoyourself.Theyhavenocase.”
“Thatnotwithstanding,eventakingthistotrialwouldputastainonyouandyourfamilyandpissoffRoyalPipelines’shareholders.”
“SoIneedtocavebecausemydaddyrunsabig-assshop?”Iscowled.
“Inanutshell,yes.”
“No,”Icounteredflatly.
Baroncheckedhisphoneashespoke,completelyunconcernedbymyrefusal.“Ifwetakethistoajury,there’snowayofknowinghowthey’dreact.Awhite,malebillionaireinthemiddleofawhale-sizedsexscandalisnot,infact,themostempatheticcreatureknowntomankind.”
“Ididn’trapethem,”Iseethed.“Ididn’tevenhitonthem.Theycametome.”
Baronstoodup,gatheringthedocumentsintohisleatherbriefcase.Heseemedtobedonewiththeconversationandhisclient’srage.
“Betteracrookthanafool.TakingthedealandhavingthemsignanNDAisthecleverthingtodo.Wheneveryoufeelyourpreciousegoneedsahandjob,logontothatpornsiteandremindyourselfthatwhoeverendsupputtingaringonthosewomenwillalwaysknowyouastheguywhofuckedthemhalf-deadandstillmanagedtomakethemcome.”
“Ineedastrongerdrink.”Ishookmyhead.
“Whatyouneedisagoodspanking.”
Iputthebeerbottletomylipsagain,sighing.“Fuck,you’reright.Akinkylayisjustwhatthedoctorordered.ButthistimeI’llmakesureit’sinasecludedbedroom.”
Baronthrewmeacondescendingfrownandwalkedtothedoor.IknewIshouldthankhimforeverythinghe’ddoneforme,butIwasn’tinthemoodforniceties.Also,thecheckDawouldsignwasgoingtobuyhimanotheryacht.
“Oh,andHunter?”Baronaskedwhenhereachedthedoor.
Ilookedupfrombehindthedesk.
“Yeah?”
“Goodluckwithyournextmeeting.You’llneedit.”“Adisgrace!”Daspat,hissalivasplutteringoverthedeskbetweenus.Hispasty,Irish-freckledfacewaspurpleashetoweredovermeinthesameatticofficeBaronhadexitedminutesago.
TheBradyshadthekindofhouseGeraldFitzpatrickdeemedhomelyandquaint,ifnotcompletelylackluster.BackinBoston,he’dknockeddownanentirerowofbrownstonesinBeaconHillandbuiltamansionbettersuitedfortheextendedroyalfamilyandeverypersonthey’deversaidhito.AveburyCourtManorboastedtwentybedrooms,fifteenbathrooms,anindoorpool,atenniscourt,andaheateddriveway—becausewhynotbeadouchebagwhenyoucanaffordtobe?
ThemansionwasarchitecturallyinspiredbyMontSaint-Michel,aloomingcastleonaFrenchisland—heavyonthearches,statues,andwidespaces.Truthfully,I’dtaketheold-fashionedBradytownhouseoverthatnouveaurichemarbledmonsteranydayofthefuckingcentury.
“Youstupid,embarrassingfool.You…you…goddamn…”Hestopped,curlinghisfiststighttobracehimselffortheringingscreamthatfollowed.“Epicdisappointment!”Hehurledthedeskbetweenus.Ithitmykneeswithabone-chillingthump.Ipressedmymouthharder,ignoringtherawpain,myfacestillimpassive.
Itwashellatemptingtocurlintomyselfandresurfaceafterhisverballashingwasover,butIforcedmyselftojerkmychinupandbraveit.Mysisterandbrotherwerebothperfectintheirown,overachievingways,whichmadememyparents’favoritesourceofcomplaint.
“ThankGodyouhaven’tfatheredanybastards.”Dalookedheavenward,makingthesignofthecross,asifGodwasinchargeofmyobsessivecondomusage.Igotnodamncreditforanythingthesedays.
“Night’sstillyoung,”Iclipped.
Heshotmeadirtylook,pointingatmewithhisstubbyfinger.
“Yourlittleflingjustcostmesixmilliondollarsinhush-money—more,iftheothersdecidetojumponthebandwagonandsue.Youthinkit’sfunny?I’mdonewithyou.”Heshookhisfistskyward,pacingbackandforthinthesmallroom.“Iwanttobedonewithyou.Yourmother,blessherheart,hasasoftspotforyou.Perhapsbecauseyou’rethemiddlechild.”
OrmaybebecauseshedumpedmeinaboardingschoolinEnglandwhenIwassixandtossedmearoundtheglobewhenIgotkickedout,neverconsideringraisingmeherself.
“I,however,seeyouclearlyforwhoyouare,andIhavenewsforyou.YoumaybegoingtocollegeinBoston,butHarvardisoffthetable.Youwillgotoeveningclasses,ascommonersdo.Andyouarecertainlynotcomingtoliveinmyhouse.”Hisfingernowdippedtohischestforemphasis.
Myfathertoweredtonearlysixfeetandoneinch,atadshorterthanme,andwasarrangedinroundbulksofmeat.Yearsofindulgencehadmadehisbodysoftandhispersonalityhardened.Awhiteshockofhairfelloverhisforehead,buthisbrowsweredarkandthick.
Mymother,incontrast,waslightanddainty,bothinpersonalityandlooks.
“Boo-fucking-hoo.”Irolledmyeyesprovocatively.Theedgesofmyearsturnedhot,andIhatedthat.“HeardBoston’sgotanapartmentortwotooffer.I’llbegladtostayoutofyourway.”
AsforHarvard,Ididn’tthinkanidiotlikemewouldsurviveit,anyway.I’dprobablyfailatfindingtheclasses,letalonedecipheringthelectures.Itwasjustaswell.
“Withwhatmoney,praytell,areyouplanningtorentanyofthoseapartments?”Aveinpoppedonhisforehead.Icouldpracticallyseeitslitheringunderhisskin.“Notmine,Iregrettoinformyou.”
Istaredathimwordlessly,waitingfortheothershoetodrop.
“You’veneverfinishedanythinginyourlife,Hunter.”
False.Ifinishedanalogies,beers,andorgasmsonadailybasis.Butevenmydumbassknewbetterthantopointitout.
“You’repackingyourthingsandleavinghereimmediately,”hecontinued,deliveringhisinstructionsinacold,practicedmannerthattoldmehe’ddecidedwhattodowithmebeforehisprivateplanetouchedCaliforniansoil.
“Bet.”Ismirked.
“Notimetobidyourfriendsgoodbye,”hesnapped.
Myheaddartedup.Beingpopularwasalonelybusiness,butIactuallylikedmyfriendshere.“It’lltakemeanhour.”
“Idon’tcareifit’lltakeyouaminute.Andthen,”heproceeded,hisvoicericochetingoffthewallslikecartoonbulletschasingafteravillain’sass,“you’regoingtodoasix-monthstinttoprovetomeyouarenotthepileofsexuallytransmitteddiseasesandbaddecisionsIseeyouas.”
“You’reaskingmetogotorehab?”Ichokedonmymorningbeer.
“No.Ispokewithyouruncleandaunt,andtheydon’tthinkyourproblemisdrugoralcoholabuse.Yourproblemiscommitmentandfindingasenseofpurpose.Takingresponsibility.”
Itwascurioustohearaboutmyproblemsfromsomeonewho’dseenmetwiceayearforthedurationofaweekorlessforthepastdecadeandahalf.
“What’sitgonnabe,then?”Iheardmyselfasking.
IhadthisgameIplayedwithmyself,sinceIwasmyonlysteadycompanioninlife.Ichangedplacesandcrewssooften,Ihadtofindsomethingtoanchorme.Thegameconsistedofchoosingadailysongthatdefinedmymood.Today,itwasclearly“GimmeShelter”byTheRollingStones.Becauseshit,Icoulduseahideawayrightaboutnow.
“You’regoingtobeworkingforme,supportingyourselfwhileattendingcollege,andlivinginanapartmentintheOvalBuilding,wheremystaffcanmonitoryourwhereaboutsandprogress.”
MyfamilyownedtheOvalBuilding,ahigh-risethatwassupposedtolooklikeanelegantlipsticktube,butinrealityresembledanuncircumcised,angrycock.I’dhavewarnedDaifhe’deverconsultedmeaboutit.
Heloweredhimselftocatchmygaze,hisfingersspreadonthechippedoakdeskbetweenus.“Andyou’regoingtobesoberasajudgeandcelibateasanun.”
Andboredasfuck.Yeah,nothankyou.
“Forsixmonths?Yougottabekiddingme.”Istoodup,throwingmyhandsintheair.Myheadbumpedagainsttheceiling.Ididn’tevencare.Hemightaswellkillmenow.Whatwaslifewithoutpussyandastiffdrink?Justasequenceofeventsnobodywantedtoparticipatein,that’swhat.
“Thisisnon-negotiable.”Myfathertriedtounfurlhisspineandstraightentohisfullheight,butfailed.Thelow-ceilingedroomsomehowgrewhotterandsmallerbythesecond.Beadsofsweatgatheredatmytemples.InoticedDawassweatinglikeapiginhissuit.
“Ain’thappening.”Icrossedmyarmsovermychest.
“Thenyoucankissyourinheritancegoodbye.”Hesmiledbreezily,tearingapieceofpaperfromhisbreastpocketandshovingitinmyface.
“Ianticipatedyourreaction,andyourmother—outofconcernforyou,ofcourse—hasgraciouslyallowedmetolegallyremoveyoufromourwill,seeingasyouhaveverylittledesiretofitintotheFitzpatrickfamilybusinessandhonoritsvalues.”
Isnatchedthepaperfromhisfingers,unfoldingitwithunsteadyhands.Bastardwasn’tbullshitting.Ithadthestampfromthelawofficehekeptonretainerandeverything.Thewrinkledpaper,althoughstillunsigned,notedthatIwasnottoinheritapennyoftheFitzpatrickfortuneunlessthesix-monthagreementwasexecutedtomyfather’sfullsatisfaction.
Ilookedbackup,feelingsomethinghotanduncomfortablespreadinginmychest.
“Youcan’tdothat,”Ihissed.
“What,saveyoufromyourself?Iamdoingthat,”heannounced,spreadinghisarms.“Agreetomyterms,andyoucanhavehalfmykingdom,Hunter.Continuetoletme,yourmother,andyourselfdown,andyouhavenoplaceinourfamily.”
Ineverhave.Whichwaswhythemoneymeantsomuchtome.Iwasn’tgoingtoberobbedofthat,too.
“Fine,”Ispat.“Whatever.Putmeinyourdick-shapedbuilding.I’llstayoutoftrouble,andIwon’tdrinkorfuckforsixmonths.”
“Ofcourseyouwon’t,”myfathersaid,yankingthepieceofpaperbackandfoldingittidilybeforetuckingitintohisbreastpocket.“Becauseyou’llhavearoommatetomakesureyou’reonthestraightandnarrow.Alwaysaccountedfor.”
Ithrewmyheadback,laughingbitterly.“I’mnotsharinganapartmentwithCillian.Heprobablyperformssatanicritualsinvolvingpuppybloodandbabytearsonthedaily.”
Myolderbrotherwasthedefinitionofacunt.Hehadthatholier-than-thou,wunderkindattitudethathadmademegiveuponbeinganythingotherthanthefamilyjester.Catchingupwithhismanyconquests,bothacademicallyandcareer-wise,seemedfutile.Hewasthegoldenchild,thewildpromise,theruthlessemperoreveryonelookedupto.
Dashookhishead.“Please,likemoórgawouldreducehimselftolivingunderthesameroofwithyou.”Moórgatranslated,quiteliterally,togoldenchildinGaelic.
Realsubtle,Pops.
“Mybad.Iforgotheneedstotakeoffhishumancostumeafteralongdayandrelaxbyhimself.Who,then?”
“Well,thatpersonisyettobeapproached.Youwillhavetoconvincehertoagreetothis.Ifshesaysno,theentireplancrumbles.ButyourmotherandIhavefoundthemostperfectcandidate.”
She.Hesaidshe.Thatmeantshewasfemale.ThatalsomeantIcouldfuckherbehindhisback.Nomatterherageandlooks,Iwaswillingtodoitifitmeantdippingmydickintosomethingthatwasn’tmyownhand.
“Who?”Igrittedout,knowinghewasenjoyingtheexchange,havingmeathismercy.
“SailorBrennan.”
Yeah,nevermind.Ain’ttouchingthatwithacondomedten-footpole.
Why?Let’scount:
Sailorwasagoodytwo-shoes.Straight-up,straight-A,boring-goodkindofgirl.
Shewasatomboy,andpossiblyalesbian(notthatIhadanyissueswiththat),andanarcher(somethingIdidhaveanissuewith,becauseitmeantshecouldkillmewithlittleeffort).
ShewasTroyBrennan’sdaughter,andTroyBrennanwasapersonyoudidn’twanttomakeanenemyoutof.HewasBoston’sunderworld’sfixer,theguytheuppersocietyofthecityhadonretainertodothedirtyworkforthem.
ThefewtimesI’dmetSailor,she’dseemedannoyinglyresistanttomycharms(asIsaid,lesbian).
“Kindaoutthere,don’tyouthink?”Ifeignedboredom,itchingtohaulasstotheSouthernHemisphereandescapemyverdict.
“Bettertheplanbeingouttherethanyourpenisdrivenintoholesithasnobusinessbeingin,”myfatherdeadpanned,takingahandkerchieffromhisfrontpocketanddabbinghissweatyhandswithit,focusingontheclover-greenfabric.
“Sixmonthstoliveandplayhousewithacompletestranger—that’sunorthodox,Da.Somewouldgoasfarassayingprosaicallymedieval.”
“Youwerejustcaughthavingsexwithfiveyoungwomenontopofyourfriend’santiqueItalianfurniture—which,bytheway,westillhavetopayforandwillbedeductedfromyoursalary.You’retoofarfromtherealmsoforthodoxtobeconcernedaboutyourreputation.”
“WhataboutSailor’sreputation?”
“Shehasnone—acleanslate.Andnooneisinsaneenoughtotalkbadlyofher,consideringwhoherdadis.”
Heissendingmetolivewithagirlwhosefatherisacold-bloodedmurderer.Me.Withmyunfiltered,filthymouth.
“WhatmakesyouthinkSailorwouldagreetothis?”Isquintedathim.
I’dmetSailorBrennanmaybethreeorfourtimesinmylife.HerparentshadrestaurantsalloverBoston.Hermotherwasachefandhadcookedforafeweventsmymotherhostedawhileback.Theentiretime,Sailormessedwithherphoneorlookedatmysistercuriously(moreproofofthelesbiantheory).
Ibarelyrememberedthechick.WhatIdidrecallwascarrotyhairthatlookedaboutassoftasblisteredfeet,morefrecklesthanaface,andthebodyofamalnourished,five-year-oldboy.
“Ihavemyreasons,butshewilltakesomepersuading.”
“So,howdoyouseethisgoingdown?Igotoherandjustsay,yo,let’smoveintogether?”
Ididn’twanttolosemyinheritancebecausemydickhadthesociallifeoftheentireKardashianclan.Livingwithageekandsixmonthsofcelibacyweren’tgoingtokillme.
Probably.
Onlytimewouldtell,honestly.
“DowhateveryouseefittomakesureSailorsaysyes.”Dashrugged.“I’llthrowyouahook,butyou’llbedoingthefishing.NotSyllie—who,bytheway,I’veorderednevertohelpyouagain.Nomorescrewingaround.Ifyouwantsomething,youneedtochaseit.It’syourjobtomakeSailorcooperate.You’reonyourownnow,Hunter.Ifyoufailtoshowmeyou’rethemanIneedyoutobeinthenextsixmonths,you’reout.AndSailorisjustthetypeofpersontokeepyouincheck.”DearGod,
IknowItalktoyouperiodically,mainlyaskingforfavors,butIswearthisisthelasttime.
…
Fine.It’sprobablynotthelasttime,buthearmeoutanyway,okay?
PleasegivemeasignalthatmyOlympicdreamisnotabust.
Makeitrain.
Haveapigeonpooponme.
Anything.
It’stheonlythingIcareabout.TheonlythingItrulywant.
Yours,
—SailorBrennan(P.S.ItotallygaveupchocolateandsaltysnacksforLent,soifyoulookmeupandseealistofmyfamily’ssins,particularlymydad’sandbrother’s,justrememberI’mcool,allright?P.P.S.Iprayforthem,too.)
Idrewanimaginarylinebetweenmyselfandthetarget,squintingunderthepoundingsun,sweatcasingmyforehead.Usingthreefingerstoholdmyarrowandstring,Iraisedthebowtowardthetarget,myinnerelbowparalleltotheground.IcouldpracticallyfeelmypupilsdilatingasIfocused,atingleofexcitementshootingupmyspine.Ireleasedthearrow,watchingasitspunintheair,missingthebull’s-eyebymeremillimeters.
Iloweredmybow,wipingmybrow.
“Sailor,”mytrainer,Junsu,clippedinacuttingtone.Heapproachedfromtheshadedvisitingareaofthearcheryrange,hishandsclaspedbehindhisback.“Youhaveavisitor.”
Iremovedmybracerandleathertab,turningaroundanddumpingthemintotheopenduffelbagbehindme.
“Visitor?”Igrabbedabottleofwaterfromtheplasticchair,squeezingitscontentsintomymouth.“Whowouldvisitme?”
Thequestionwasnotmeanttosoundaspatheticasitcameout.Lotsofpeoplecouldvisitme.Myparents,forinstance.Momoftendroppedfoodoffformeatreception,knowingIalwaysforgettofeedmyself.Ialsohadfriends—Persephone(Persy)andEmmabelle(Belle)Penrose,namely.TheybothspentagoodamountoftimetryingtodragmetosocialeventsIdidn’twanttoattend.ButeverybodyknewIwasn’tbigonvisitorswhileIwastraining.NevermindthefactthatIwasalwaystraining.
“Aboy.”Junsu’smouthtwistedaroundthelastword.HisKoreanaccent,touchedwithanunexplainedBritishtwang,rangwithaccusation.“Atall,blondboy.”
Junsuwasshortandsinewyanddidn’tlookadayoverthirty,thoughconsideringhisprimeyearsintheOlympicswerethirtyyearsago,hewasnodoubtpushingfifty.Hishairwasravenblack,histanskinwrinkle-free.Heworetight,simpleclothesofexpensivefabrics.Theyalwayslookedneatlyironed.
“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”Ishookmyhead,myMeridaDunBroch-stylemanewhooshingaroundmyface.
IscoopedupmyduffelandloopedmybowovermyshoulderasIstartedwalkingfromtheoutdoorrangebacktothearcheryclub.Junsumust’vemisheard.Thatguywasprobablylookingforsomeoneelse.
“CanIcomehalfanhourearlytomorrow,soyoucanhelpmetunemybow?IthinkIneedanewstring.”
Junsugavemeaslightnod,hisfacestilltroubled.“Theboy,”hepressed,strokinghischin,“ishe—howyousay?—yourboy-friend?”
Heputahyphenbetweenthewordsboyandfriend,knowingdangwellwhattheanswerwas.I’dpostponedcollege(andlifeingeneral)tobelaser-focusedonarchery.Morespecifically:theOlympicsthatwouldtakeplaceayearfromnow.Boyswerestrictlyoffthemenuthisyear.AstabattheOlympicswasaonce-ortwice-in-a-lifetimeopportunity.
Collegecouldwait.Icouldenrollnextyear,afterIwonmygoldmedal.
Boys?Theyweresooffmyradar,Iwasn’tevensureIpossessedsaidradar.
I’dhadthepleasureofgrowingupnexttotwomen,twostrongmenwhotaughtmeeverythingthereistoknowaboutthegender:theywerewild,violent,andrealtime-suckers.Ihadnoplaceforthem.
“Idon’tknowwhoyou’retalkingabout,Junsu.”Iblewoutairaswewaltzedthroughthenarrowhallwayofthearcheryclub.Itwasfilledwithpicturesofpastandcurrentarcherswho’dbroughtprideandmedalstothisclub.Iinhaledtheaddictivescentofsweat,leatherequipment,andfaintpowder.“Butwhoeveritis,heisnoonetome.”Istopped,scratchingabovemyeyebrowasItriedtomakesenseofthis.“Maybeit’sDorianSanchez.Hewenttoschoolwithmeandhasbeenbeggingmetotalktomymomaboutgivinghimajob.”
Dorianwasblondandtall-ish,theonlypersoninmyclassotherthanmenottosecureentrancetoagoodcollege.He’dboughtafoodtrucksenioryearandsolditbeforegraduation,soIknewheneededmoney.
Yup.IthadtobeDorian.
“Well…”Junsugesturedwithhisopenpalmtowardthefrontdoor.“Theboyisloiteringoutside.Ishallbemostappreciativeifhedoesnotdothatagain.ThisisnotaTinder.”Hespatouttheword.
Stiflingachucklebybitingmylowerlip,Inoddedseriously.“I’lltrytoinviteallmyhookupsstraighthomeinthefuture.”
“Notfunny,”hesaidsternly,hiseyeswidening.
“Yes,itis.”Ibreezedtowardtheentrance,aspringinmystepasItwistedmyheadtowinkatmyOlympictrainer.“Becausewebothknowit’sbull—”
“Nocussing!”Hewavedhisindexatme.“Isrightshoulderstillbothersome?”
“Yes.”Ishrugged.“It’skindofkillingme,actually.”
Myrightshoulderhadbeenbotheringmeforweeks,buteverytimeIvisitedmyphysicaltherapist,Ipretendeditwasokaysohe’dletmetrain.Junsuwasverystrictaboutmissingpracticetime,andwheneverIcomplained,hegavemeasoldier-through-itlook.
Mytrainernodded.“Itisnatural.Tomorrow,Sailor.”
“Tomorrow.”
Ipouredmyselftowardtheparkinglot,makingmywaytomysensiblewhiteGolfGTI.Bostonwasinsufferablyhotinthesummer,thedarkcolonialandfederalistbuildingsalwaysafewdegreesawayfrommeltingintoapuddleontheconcrete.ThearcheryclubwaslocatedonaquietsidestreetbytheWestEnd,farenoughfrommyparents’apartmentdowntownthatthecongesteddailycommutecostmefiftyminutestoandfrom.
IdiscardedmyequipmentinthetrunkandpushedmyAirPodsintomyears.Iwashumming“KillandRun”bySiawhenIfeltataponmyshoulder.
Iturnedaround,surprised,eventhoughJunsuhadgivenmeaheads-up.Anunfamiliarfacelookedbackatmine.
Astunning,miss-a-beat-or-fiveface,tobeexact.
DefinitelynotDorianSanchez.
“SailorBrennan?”theman—notboy—askedflatly,hiseyesrakingmeheadtotoelikeIwasacallgirlhe’djustopenedhisdoorforanddiscoveredwasnotuptohisstandards.
Ifeltmybodystiffeningindefenseandshookmyhead,riddingmyselfoftheweirdholdhislookshadonme.
“Yeah.”IrearedmyheadbacksoIcouldtakemoreofhimin,andalsobecauseIcouldn’ttelliftheneedtohead-butthimwouldarise.Thisguywasacompletestranger,afterall.“CanIhelpyou?”
“I’mHunterFitzpatrick.”Hepointedathimself,hissmirkaperfect,well-practicedhalf-moonwiththerightamountofteeth-to-dimpleratio.
Iblinkedathim,waitingforfurtherexplanation.“And…?”Ifrownedwhenitbecameobvioushisstatementwasalsomeanttoserveassomesortofclarification.
Hiseyesinchedwiderinsurprise,buthesoonarrangedhisfeaturesbackintoaflaccidexpressionandclearedhisthroat.
“Canwetalksomewhere?”
“Wearetalkingsomewhere.”ItookmyAirPodsout,droppingthemintomyfrontpocket.“Righthere.Andifyoudon’ttellmewhatit’sabout,I’mafraidI’llhavetoturnaround,getintomycar,anddriveaway.”
“I’mafraidI’llhavetoblockyourwayoutofhere,ifyoudothat.”Hedraggedhisfingersthroughhistresses,eachgoldenhairsubmittingtothemovement,likeagustofwindswipingawheatfield.
Spoiledbrat.Istaredathimwithamixtureofirritationandconfusion.
“Then,”Isaidcarefully,“I’mafraidI’llhavetorunyouover.Solet’sspareyouthehospitalvisitandmetheinconvenience.Canyoutellmewhyyou’rehere?You’regettingmeintrouble.”
“Whatthefuck?”
“Mytrainerthoughtyouwereahookuporsomething.”
“JFC,backitupalltheway.”Hesnortedalewdlaugh,actuallyabbreviatingJesuseffingChrist.Heshotanotherglanceatmynonexistentbreasts.
Iworeasnug,long-sleevedshirtandyogapants,pairedwithanoldpairofsneakersIprobablyshouldhavereplacedthreeyearsago.Despitemybestefforts,Ifeltmyselfblushingathisdismissal.IknewwhatIlookedlike,andIwasn’taperfectten.Iwasscrawny,withred,tangledhaircascadingallthewaydowntomybutt,andadustingoffreckleseverywherethesuntouched.Onascaleofonetoten,Iwasasixonagenerousday.Hunterwasaperfectmillion.
“Iwantedtorunanideabyyou.”Heleanedahipovertheopentrunkofmycar.
Everythingabouthimwaslazyandindulgent.Hewastheoppositeofmybrotheranddad.Helovedhimselfandwashyperawareofhisgoodlooks.Itturnedmeoff.
NotthatIwasturnedoninthefirstplace.
“About?”Ishiftedfromfoottofoot.Mynervesweretattered,frayedattheseams.Boysneverspoketome,andwhentheydid,theydidn’tlooklikehim.
“Us.”
“Youjustsaidthereisnous.AndI’dliketoreinforcethatstatement.”Iyankedmycarkeysfrommyduffelbag,slammedthetrunkshut,androundedmycar.Hetailedme,hismovementstiger-smooth,especiallyforaguyhissize.Hewasverytallandverylean,and—mostannoyingofall—smelledvery,verynice.Amixtureofcleanlaundry,cinnamon,andcorruptedmale.
“Whoa,holdthephone.Youreallydon’thaveanyideawhoIam?”HetouchedmyshouldertostopmefromenteringthecarasIopenedthedriver’sdoor.
Ilookedathishandwithanarchedbrow.Hewithdrewitimmediately.
“Notouching,”Isaid.
“’Kay.So?Youdon’t?”Hesearchedmyface,hisbrowslevelingwithhishairline.
Ishookmyhead.“Noteventhefaintestclue.Mycondolencestoyourego.”
“H-u-n-t-e-rF-i-t-z-p-a-t-r-i-c-k,”hedrawledslowly,treatingmenodifferentthanafirstgraderpracticingherletters.“Youknow,ofRoyalPipelines.”
“Ifthisisasexualinnuendo,Iamgoingtohavetokneeyouintheballs,”Isaidmatter-of-factly.Ididnot,however,feelhalfascalmasIpretendedtobe.Hismerepresencerattledsomethingdeepinmystomach,andIfeltnauseouswithexcitement.
“Don’tobjectifyme,lady.”HerippedaVLTNbeaniefromthebackpocketofhisdesignerjeans,slappingitonhisheadandcoveringhiseyeswithasulk.
Thatthingcostfourhundredbucks.IknewbecauseI’dgottensomethingsimilarforBelle’sbirthday.Butthatwasajointgiftwherehersister,parents,andcousinhadalsochippedin.WhoonEarthwasthisguy?
“Icomefromthefourthrichestfamilyinthecountry.”Hepouted,peekingthroughtheedgeofthebeanienow,lookingridiculouslyyetadorablyinfantile.
“Goodforyou.Arethereanymoremeaninglessdetailsaboutyourlifeyou’dliketosharebeforeIdepart?Favoritecolor?Maybetheagewhenyoulostyourfirstbabytooth?”Ihmm-ed.
Butnowthathe’dsaidhisnameagain,thepennydropped,andIunderstoodwhyhewassurprisedIdidn’trecognizehim—mainlybecauseeverybodyelseinthiscitydid.
HunterFitzpatrickwasunfairly,undeniably,irrefutablystunning.Shockinglyso.Inawaythatmademeresenthimsimplybecausementhathandsomearen’ttrustworthy.
Letmeamend—meningeneralaren’ttrustworthy.Theprettyoneswereextramean,though.ThatwasalessonI’dlearnedinhighschoolthatwasn’tinthesyllabus.
RumoraroundBostonwas,Hunter’sparentshadsenthimtoTodosSantos,California,fouryearsagoafterhegotkickedoutofaBritishschool,hopingtocleanuphisactbysettlinghimwithhisBible-studyinguncleandaunt,orattheveryleastkeephimawayfromtheEastCoastpress.ThelatterhoundedtheFitzpatrickfamily,andHunterspecifically,seeingashehadthenotableabilitytoactlikeanidiot.Infact,Irememberedoneparticularheadlinereferringtohimas“TheGreatGhastly,”afteroneofhispoolpartiesbackwestendedupwithtwopeoplebreakingtheirlimbstryingtojumpfromtheroofintohispool.
EvenfromCalifornia,therogueFitzpatrickhadmanagedtomakeheadlines.Accordingtothegossipmill,hissexualconquestswerecurrentlyinthetripledigits,andifangelsgottheirwingseverytimehehadafling,heavenwouldbesoseverelyoverpopulated,they’dhavetostartbuildingnew,up-and-comingsectionsinhell.
Hunter’shairwasmuddygold,curlinginangelictwistsaroundhisears,temples,andthenapeofhisneck,enhancinghisheart-stoppingbeauty.Hiseyeswerenarrow,almostslanted,andbrilliantlylight,amixtureofgrayandpowderbluewithflecksofgold,andhishighcheekbones,squarejaw,andpoutylipsgavehimtheeleganceofasurly,spoiledprince.Hisnosewasstraightandnarrow,hiseyebrowsthickandmasculine,andhehadthathealthy,glowingtanofamanwhogottoseethebetterpartsoftheworld.
Hunter’sbodywasdiscussedjustasmuchashisantics.He’dplayedpolowhilehestudiedintheUK,andcontinueddoingsoprivatelyafterhegotkickedoutandmovedtoCalifornia.Hewaslean,muscular,andfreakishlytallforapoloplayer.Accordingtotherumors,hehadenviableabsandamemberthesizeoftheEiffelTower.
Inshort,hescreamedtrouble,andnotthekindIhadtimefor.
“Ihaveapropositionforyou.”Hetippedhisnoseup.
God,hewassoarrogantIwantedtothrowuponhisFearofGodJunglesneakers($995,Emmabellehadoncetoldme—atthispoint,hewasatheftvictimbeggingtobetargeted).
“Theanswerisno.”
“That’sanuntexturedwayofthinking.Youhaven’tevenheardityet.”
Iraisedmypalm,smilingpolitely.“Basedonyourreputationalone,combinedwiththefactthatwe’vebeenstandingherefortenminutesandyoustillhaven’tgottentothepoint,Icandeducewearenotagoodmatch.Foranything.”
“Ineedyoutolivewithmeforsixmonths.But,like,inasick-assapartmentdowntown.Superradshit.”
Hecompletelyignoredmyrejection.Furthermore,hetalkedlikehewasdoingmeafavor.True,myparentswerenotonanylistoftherichestpeopleinthecountry,continent,orouterspace,buttheydidverywellforthemselves.Infact,I’dgrownupinluxury.ButlikeMom,Irejectedtheideathatmoneyequaledhappiness.Ifoundthatoftentimes,theoppositewastrue.
“Oh,”Isaidcheerfully.“Well,inthatcase,theanswerisstillno.”
“Wait!Ihavesomethingyouwant.”Hehadtheaudacitytoclosethedriver’sdoorbehindme,bracinghisarmsoneithersideofmyshoulders,cagingmein.
Istaredathim,bewildered.Washehighorsomething?“What?”Ispat,wishingsomeonewouldcomeoutoftheclub,seeus,andshootanarrowthroughhisskull.Anotherpartofme—ateeny,tinypart—enjoyedtheattentionthisfinemalespecimenwasprovidingme.ImadeamentalnotetodrownthatpartofmeinthebathtubwhenIgothome.
“Mydasaysifyouagreetothisdeal,he’swillingtosponsoryouallthewaytotheOlympics.Saidhe’llmakeyouahouseholdnameacrossAmerica,andBoston’ssweetheart.I’mtalkingcommercials,hookingyouupwiththebestsportsagentinAmerica,getyouabookdeal.You’llbefamous,baby.”Heofferedmeanotheroneofhistoothy-dimpledsmirks.
“Idon’twantanyofthosethings.IjustwanttodowhatIlove.”
“That’scute,butIknowLanaAlderfromNewMexicoisbreathingdownyourneckinthearcherydepartmentandmighttakeyourplaceonthesquad.Andshe’sgotbeautycampaignsandmoviedealscomingoutofherass,soyoumightwanttoreconsiderthatbig,fatrejection.”
“Youdidyourhomework,”Isaidsullenly.Lanawasasoresubjectforme.Hernamealonemademyskincrawl.
“Firstandlasttime.”Hewiggledhisbrows.
Ibitthetipofmythumbnail.Hewasright.MymaincompetitionwasAlder,andshe,unfortunately,wasasgorgeousasshewastalented.ShewascomingtoBostoninfivemonthssowecouldtraintogetherwithJunsu,andhadalreadysecuredmoremediacoverageinmyhometownthanI’dhadtheentireyear.
Ishookmyhead.“No.”
“Yousure?Samecrib,separaterooms.Myparentsjustwantyoutowatchoverme.”
“Why?”Myeyesflaredinannoyance.“Whyme?Whynotawillinggirl?I’msuretherearelotstochoosefrom.”
“That’sexactlywhy.You’reunwilling.Theysaidyouwouldn’tbepersuadedorseduced—incorruptible.Youhavegoodcharacterandknowthemeaningofresponsibility.”
“Ehm,thankyou.”
“DearGod,woman,thatwasn’tacompliment.”Helaughed.
Ifrowned.“Well,sorrytodisappointyourparents,buttheanswerisstillno.”
“Seriously?”HegroanedwhenIswattedhisarmsawayfromme,openingthedooragainandslippingintomycarbeforeIcouldconsiderhiscrazyidea.“Mydaknowsyourdaandgavehimtheskinnyonthings.Apparently,heissuperintotheidea.Askhim.Dacanmakeyourcareer.Ifyoucaresomuchaboutarchery,doyourselfafavorandbitethebullet,man.”
“Mydadisinfluential,too,”Isaid,notquitebelievingthewordsleavingmymouth.Wasbattinesscontagious?
“YourdadcaninfluencethebodycountinBoston,butheishardlyapublicfigure.Myoldman,however,donatedmillionstobuildanewstadiumforthePatriots.Youneedconnections,Sailor.Letmehelp.”
Istartedmycarwiththedoorstillopen,fullytuckedin,grippingthesteeringwheelandfeelingmyfingersgoingnumbaroundit.
“YoujusthavetomakesureI’msoberandcelibate.That’sit.”
Ilookedupathim,aghast.“Like,beyournanny?”
Heshrugged.“I’mfullypotty-trained,sleepthroughthenight—sometimeswellpastthemorningandafternoon—andcanmakeamean-assomelet.”
“Canyoustopusingthewordassasanadjective,verb,adverb,andnoun?”Ihalf-asked,half-wondered.
“I’llstopsayingthewordassifyouagreetomyonce-in-a-lifetimeoffer.”HepressedthebuttontolowermywindowsowecouldcontinueourconversationasecondbeforeIslammedthedoorinhisface.Goodinstincts.
“Thisiscrazy,”Imumbled.
“I’mgoingtotakethatasayes.”Heslappedmywindowframe,grinning.
Junsuwouldkillmeifheeverlearnedofthedeal.Hesaidarcherywasarespectableart,notaDisneyChannelspecialthatrequiredmetodopressjunkets—notthathewasevergoingtoknowaboutit.Asfarashewasconcerned,thatqualifiedascuttingcorners.ButIwasfallingbehindthecurveandknewLanaAldercouldcrushmyOlympicdream—andtakegreatpleasureinit,too.
Anyway,DadwouldkillHunterFitzpatrickifhegavemetrouble.AndSam,mybrother,wouldgetridofthebody.Thatwasthebeautyofcomingfromamobsterfamily.
Itseemedlikeano-brainer.Ineededabigendorsertopushme.That’swhateveryoneexceptJunsukepttellingme.Myproblemwasn’tlackofskillortalent,butthatIwasshyandtoomuchofawallflowertobringattentiontomyself
Still,Isaidnothing.
Hunterbenthisknees,pressinghispalmstogether.“Helpadudeout,oldsport.IpromiseI’mnotanasshole.Imean,Iwouldn’tgoasfarascallingmyselfagoodguy,butI’mharmless.Myinheritanceisonthelinehere.Ijustwantbothofustosurvivethisbitchofatime.Iswear.”
Heseemedgenuine.Besides,howhardcouldthisbe?Hewasawillingparticipantinthisweirddeal.Plus,I’dbeenwantingtomoveoutofmyparents’houseforawhile.They’dbeenbuggingmeaboutmylovelife—orlackofit—foralongtime.
“Howbigisthisapartment?”Igroaned,feelingmyresolutionslippingthroughmyfingers.
“Threebedrooms,abouttwenty-five-hundredsquarefeet.Skyscraper.Walkingdistancefromhere.Youcanusethesparebedroomforyourequipment.”
“Wow,”Iblurted.ThatbeatthestudioapartmentsI’dbeenlookingattoescapeMomandDad’sconstantput-yourself-out-therenagging.
“Also,therewillbeaprivatechef.Iwasjustkiddingabouttheomelet;Icanbarelyopenacanofalphabetpasta.AndyoucanbringyourfriendsandBumbledatesorwhateverover.I’manexcellentwingman,Sailor.IwillhandyouacondomandcallforanUbertokickthemoutwhenit’salldonesoyoucanshowerandtakeashitwithoutplayinghostess.”
“You’regross.”
“Why?I’llorderthemthedeluxeservicethroughmyapp.I’llevenriskmyrating—whichisfourpointnineeight,justsaying—becausethat’swhoIamasaperson:analtruistic,stand-upguy.”
“Didn’tyoudocommunityserviceforpublicindecencyrecentlyafterrunningdownastreetcompletelynaked?”Ifrowned,recallingthearticle.
Hewavedmeoff.“Thatwasayearago.I’machangedman.”
Iwasmakingamistake.IknewthatasIwasmakingthedecision.Butmydrivetosucceedwonthebattle.
“What’sthedrawback?”Inarrowedmyeyes.“Ifyouneedbabysitting,theremustbeareasonforthat.”
“Impulsecontrol,”hesaid.
“Meaning?”
“Specificallyspeaking,Idon’thaveany.Justthinkofme,like,asBambi:cuteAFbutsuperstupidandintotalneedofsupervision.”
Hejustsaidaay-eff.Plus,hewillinglylabeledhimselfstupid.Ifeltkindofsadforhim,beforeIrememberedwhohewas.
“Afewgroundrules.”Isatbackinthedriver’sseat,mycarstillrunning.
Hunter’sdiamond-sharpeyestwinkledatmysurrender.“Anything.”
“One,asyousaid,we’llhavetotallyseparatebedrooms.”
“Soseparatethey’llbarelybeinthesamezipcode.”
“Two,nodrugs,drinks,orgirlsintheapartment.I’mnotgoingtocutcornersforyou,andI’mnotbribable,incaseyou’replanningonpullinganyfunnybusiness.”
“Nofunnybusiness.”Heparkedhiselbowsontheedgeofmyopenwindow,shovinghalfhisbodyinsideandignoringmypersonalspace,notunlikeaneagerLabrador.“Whatelse?”
“Nohittingonme.”
“Done,”hesaidmuchtooquickly,raisinghispalminaBoyScoutswear.“Sizedmeupprettyquickly,huh?”
“Yourreputationprecedesyou.”
“Sodoesacertainorgan.”
Iliftedahandinwarning.“See?ExactlywhatImean.You’regoingtohavetocuttheBS,becausedealingwithyourpottymouthisabovethissitter’spaygrade.”
“Fine.Nosexualinnuendos.CanItellDait’son?”
Everythingwasmovingwaytoofast.Ididn’tevenfullygraspthatHunterwashere,muchlesswhatIwasagreeingto.ButsomethingtoldmehewasthesignI’dbeenbeggingforearliertoday.Thisairheaded,rakishboywasmygood-luckcharm.HewasgoingtobringmetoTallinnOlympicsnextyear.
Besides,PersyandBelleweregoingtohaveorgasmicseizureswhentheyheardI’dberoomingwiththeHunterFitzpatrick.
Anditwasn’tlikeIwasbreakingmyno-boyruleuntilaftertheOlympics.
Hunterwasaboy,buthewasn’tagoodfitforme.Iwasinnodangeroffallinginlovewithhim,oflosingfocus.
Hegrabbedmyhandandshookitcomically.Inoticedhispalmwassofterthanmine.Probablytheonlythingabouthimthatwasn’ttarnished.
“CanIhaveonerule,too?”heasked.
“No,”Isaidflatly,thensighed.“Fine,what?”
“Don’tGoogleme.”
“Why?”Andwhywashestillshakingmyhand?Andwhy,why,whywasn’tIwithdrawingmine?
“Justbecause.”
Easypeasy,Itoldmyself.Justlikelivingwithareallybeautiful,uselesspicture.Asithappened,itwasnotjustlikelivingwithareallybeautiful,uselesspicture.
MorelikelivingwithaTasmaniandevil,judgingbythefirstfiveminutesofourso-called“roomance”(roommate-romance,asmymother,Sparrow,cheerfully—andcreepily—putit).
AweekafterHunterhadcorneredmeoutsidethearcheryclub,IofficiallymovedintohisWestEndapartment.MomandPersyhelpedmewithmysuitcasesandboxes.Bellehadwantedtocome,butshehad“athing.”Knowingmyfriend,thatthingwasattachedtoamanshewasgoingtoeataliveanddiscardafterafewweeksoffun.Theminutethethreeofustumbledoutoftheprivateelevatorandtookintheapartment,wedroppedwhateverwewereholding,ourmouthsslackinginunison.
Atfirstglance,itwaseverythingI’dexpectedittobe:scarcelyandtastefullyfurnished,floor-to-ceilingwindows,newkitchenappliances,nottomentionabird’s-eyeviewofBostonthatmademefallinlovewithmyhometownalloveragain.Thecolorswerenavyanddeepburgundy,givingtheplacearich-yet-trendyvibe.
However,onsecondlook,theplacelookedlikeeveryraccooninNorthAmericahadraidedit.Hunter’sclothesadornedmostofthefurniture—thecouch,ontopoftheTV,coffeetable,floor,eveninthesink—andtherewereopentakeoutcontainerseverywhere,includingontopofthegarbagecan.
Themodern,gray-accentedopen-plankitchenwasawholenewlevelofmess.Everythinglookedsticky.Foodcanswereopenanddripping.Ievensawatrailofantsmarchingtheirwayfromtheflooruptoanopenjarofchipotlesauceonthekitchenisland.
“Well,”Persychirpedcheerfully.“Hesaidthere’sacook,soforsurethere’sgoingtobeahousekeeper,too.Besides,youhavehimbytheballs.Youcanthreatenhimtokeeptheplacetidy,orelseyou’removingbackwithyourparents.Right,Mrs.Brennan?”Sheplacedacardboardboxonthesliverofopenspaceonthecoffeetable,plantingherhandsonherhips.
“Actually,no.We’remakingSailor’sroomasexdungeon.”Momgatheredherredhairintoatopknotwithonehand,wheelingmysuitcasetothehallwayintheother.
Ishotheradeathglare.“Mom.Super,deeplygross.”
Shelaughedwithherentireface.Itmademyheartsqueeze.“Weareplanningtoturnitintoasecondoffice.Mypaperworkisgettingoutofcontrol,andthere’snopointmovingintoabiggercondo.”
“WhynotmakeSam’sroomasecondoffice?Hehasn’tbeenlivingathomeforyears.”
“BecauseIdon’tworryabouthissociallife,”Momansweredfrankly.“Andso,heiswelcometocomebackwheneverhewishes.”
“Whichwouldbenever.”Iscoffed.SamwasanotoriousBostonianbachelorwithatasteforpartying,WarrenBeatty-style.
“Mypointexactly,”sheconcluded.
Great.NowIdidn’thaveaplacetorunbacktoifwhenthisthingimploded.Bythelooksofthisapartment,italreadyhad.
Ihadnodoubtmyparents’decisiontoconvertmychildhoodroomintoahomeofficewastokeepmehere.Theylovedmedearly,buthadbeggedmetobemoresocial.Ifitwereuptome,I’dbeshootingtargetsandlazingaroundwiththePenrosesistersuntiltheendoftime.
“Youknowwhat?”Iturnedaround,facingbothofthem,tryingtoappearmoreupbeatthanIactuallywas.Inreality,I’dalmostpoppedanartery.IthadtakenHunterexactlytensecondstopissmeoff.“I’mgoingtotidyupmyself,arrangethingsthewayIwantthemtobe—setthetoneforthenextsixmonths.”
IntheweekbetweenthetimeHunterpropositionedmeintheparkinglotandnow,ourfathershadmetnumeroustimestonegotiatethetermsofthisinsane,legallybindingagreement.MomandIhadmetGeraldandJaneFitzpatricksowecouldallsignthecontract.GeraldwascoldasafishandJanenice,butreserved.Hunterwasabsentfromthosemeetings,andIhadafeelingitwasbecauseGeraldwaseitherworriedhe’dsaysomethingembarrassing,orbecausehedidn’twantHuntertofeellikehehadcontroloverthesituation.
“Yousure?”Momfrownedatme.“Wedon’tmindstaying,andyoucouldusetheextrahelp.”
“Positive,Mom.”Iwasalreadypushingthemoutthedoor.Iknewtheyweren’tgoingtocooperateifItoldthemmyplan.
Momwasn’thardtogetridof.Sheunderstoodmyindependentstreakandmyneedtodothingsmyway,becauseItookafterherinthatdepartment.Persywasanotherstory.Shewasado-gooder,innocentandagreeabletoafault.Isometimeswonderedwhatdrewmetomybestfriend,whowasthesameageasme,eighteen.Wewerepolaroppositesinbothappearanceandpersonality.Shehadlong,wavyhairthecolorofsand,hugeblueeyes,andthesoft,traditionalbeautyofaroseinbloom.Shewasattendingcollegelikeherparentswantedherto,anddidn’thaveonerebelliousboneinherbody.
Iwaswild,driven,andtunnel-visioned.Ihidmyscrawnybodyinill-fittingclothes,loosetops,boy-sneakers,andjeans.WhereasPersephone,namedaftertheGreekgoddesswho’dbeenstolenbyHadestoliveandruletheunderworldwithhim,wasquietbutconfident,Iwasinsecuretothebone.IlovedPersytodeathbecausewebothpossessedthetwoqualitiesIcaredaboutthemost:wewereinnatelyloyalandstayedawayfromtherumormill.
Infact,that’showwe’dbecomefriends.WhenIstartedelementaryschool,gossipaboutmyfatherranthroughthehallwaysliketheMississippiRiver.TroyBrennanwasBoston’sinfamous“fixer,”anditwassaidhehadasubstantialamountofbloodonhishands.Inspiteofthat,Persyandheroldersister,Belle,soughtmeoutandmadesureIhadsomeonetoplaywithatrecessandsitwithinthecafeteria.
BellewaseverythingPersyandIweren’t:anymph,afallengoddess.Cunningandadventurouswithavicioustongue.Streetsmartanddaring.ThetwoofthembymysidemeantIwasn’tbullied,pickedon,orharassedduringmyschoolyears.
“Areyousure?”Persyscrewedupherlittlenose.
“Yes.”Ipushedherthroughthedoor.“Go!”
IspentthenextthreehourstidyingtheapartmentupasbestasIcould,unpacking,puttingthingsawayinmyroom,andusingthespareroomtoarrangemyarcheryequipment,aspermyagreementwithHunter.Wehadn’tevenexchangedphonenumbers,butadealwasadeal.
Asnightrolledin,Icollapsedontotheopulent,satin-upholsteredsofaandgroaned,myhairmattedonmyforehead.Two,perfectcirclesofsweatgracedmyshirtunderthearmpits,hardlyanaphrodisiac.
I’dbeguntodriftoff,despitemybestefforts,whenthedoorstotheprivateelevatorofourpenthousefloorslidopenandHunterwalkedin,carryingafewshoppingbags.
“Yo,roomie,what’sshaking?”Hejerkedhischininmydirection,swaggeringintothedepthsofthelivingroom.Hetookthetwostepsdownfromthelandingtothelivingarea,discardedhisbagsonthecoffeetable,andsatonitsedge,plantinghiselbowsonhisknees.Hisscentdriftedintomynose:fabricsoftenerandrich-boymuskthatmademymouthwater,nomatterhowmuchIhatedhim
Ipeekedundermylashes,preparingmyselfforhisgut-punchingbeauty.IfIthoughtaweekawayfromhimwouldsubduehisimpactonme,Iwassorelymistaken.Hisgray-blueeyeslookedlikewinterstones,glimmeringplayfully,hischeeksruddyfromtheeveningwind,hislipsswollenandfull,andhistawnyblondcurlsaperfectmess.Everythingabouthimwasmale,sharp,andmuscular.
“Gotyouapresent.”Hethrewsomethingintomyhands.
Asmallenvelope.WhenIopenedit,IsawaTargetgiftcard.Yes,theactualstore.Irolledmyeyesandsmiledtiredly.“Thanks.”
“Ilikewhatyoudidwiththeplace.”Helookedaround,pickinguponeofmyfeetfromthecoffeetableandremovingmyholeysneaker.Iwatchedinhorrorasheletthedirtyshoedroptothefloor,tookmysockedfoot,andbegantodighisthumbsintoit.Atfirst,Itriedtoyankmyfootaway,butafterhoursofworking—andyearsoftrainingingeneral—mymusclesweretenseandrigid.Themassagefelttoodeliciouslygoodnottoaccept.
“Whatthehellareyoudoing?”Iscowled,watchinghimputmyfootatophismuscularthighandmassageitthoroughly.Histhighwassohard,Iwonderedwhattherestofhisbodyfeltlike.
STD.ItfeelslikecatchinganSTD,youmoron.
Therewasnodenyinghewasgoodwithhishands,andIwonderedhowmanygirlshadfallenforthistrap.
“None,”hesaid,readingmythoughtsashesmirkedatmeknowingly.
“W-what?”Istammered,hatingmyselfforbecominganinarticulatemess.
Hisfathershouldn’thaveputallhistrustinme.IfhecouldseemewithHunterrightnow,he’dknowhowhelplessIwas—notthatIwasgoingtogolaxonhisson,butIwasdefinitelynotbulletprooftohischarm.
“You’rewonderinghowmanytimesI’vedonethisasforeplay.Theanswerisnever.I’mdoingitbecauseyoulooklikecrapandneedabreak,andbecauseyoucleanedourapartmenteventhoughthehousekeepersarrivetomorrow.”
“Oh,”Isaid,feelingstupidbuttooexhaustedtogetriledupaboutit.“Youreallyknowhowtocomplimentagirl.”IwastiredofhearinghowunattractiveIwastothisguy.Besides,everythinghedid—eventhegloriousmassage—wasbraidedinmockery,likehedidn’ttakeanythingseriously,ever.
“Wouldyouliketobecomplimented?”Hepoppedaneyebrow,digginghisfingersdeeperintomyheel.
Myeyesrolledintheirsockets,andIletoutagroanasthedeliciouspainunknottedmymuscles.“Ireallydon’tcare.”Idroppedmyheadtothebackofthesofa,closingmyeyes.“Wherewereyou,anyway?”Nowwasagoodtimetostartinvestigatinghimandshowauthority.
“Shopping.”
“Withwho?”
“Mysister,Aisling.”
Funnilyenough,Irememberedhissister.Hisbrother,too.Imust’vedeletedHunterpermanentlyfrommymindbecausehewasaboymyage,gorgeous,andaboutasunattainableasplanetMars.Thosethingssomehowmadehimanautomaticenemyinmyeyes.
“You’regoingtoloveher.She’sappalledbyeverythingmaleandfun,justlikeyou.”
“Iresentthatstatement.”
“Youresenteverything.”
Bitingmytonguetokeepfromlashingoutathim—solelybecauseIknewI’dalreadygottenmyvengeancefortheday—Ichangedthesubject.
“HowdoIknowyouweren’toutandaboutwithsomeothergirl?”Iopenedmyeyes.Heblewairthroughhischeeks,hikinghislong,strongfingersfrommyfoottomyankle,kneadingitincircles.
“Foronething,you’dknowifI’dhadsex,becauseI’dberockingtheafter-orgasmglow.”
“Ican’tbelieveI’mhumoringthis,butwhatdoesyourafter-orgasmglowlooklike?”
“I’mafraidIcan’tfakeit.”Hewinked,removingmylegfromhisthighandreturningittothetablegently.MyheartmissedonelonelybeatatthelossofhistouchbeforeHuntertookmyotherfootandgaveitthesametreatment,removingmybanged-upsneakerandmassagingitheeltotoes.“You’llhavetogivemeanorgasmtofindout.”
“Hardpass,”Isaid.
Heregardedmewithamusement,trekkinghisfingersupmyankle.Silenceengulfedus.Finally,hesaid,“Who’sgonnatakecareofHunterJr.,then?”
“Yourhand?”Isuggested.“Oranapplepie,ifyou’reintoculturalclichés.”
Iwasn’tsohotontalkingsexwithHunter—orwithanyoneatall,forthatmatter—butIdidn’twanthimtoseehowflusteredIwas,andhewasobviouslytestingme.BelleandPersywoulddieiftheyheardI’dtalkedsexwiththesexkinghimself.TheminuteItoldthemaboutmyagreementwithHunter,they’dbombardedmewitheverypieceofnewsworthygossipI’dsomehowmissedaboutmynewroommate.Bellealsomentionedsomethingaboutwantingtoridehimlikeastolenbike.
“Howaboutwestrikeadeal—ifIplaythedotingsaintallweekandstayoutofyourway,Icansneakinafewfuckswitharando?I’llhavetobringherhomebecauseDahaspeoplefollowingme—I’vealreadyseenthemaround—butyoucanalwayshelpabrooutandtellthebuildingstaffthey’reyourfriends.”
Myeyesnearlypoppedoutoftheirsockets,thebloodinmyveinsheatingwithanger.“What?”
“Oh.’Kay.”Heliftedhispalms.“Notafewfucks.Justtheone.Twentyminutes.Butthisismyfinaloffer.”
“No,”Isaid.
“Fine.Tenminutes.AndI’llmakesureshekeepshervoicedown.Nowthat’smyfinaloffer.”
Hewasgoingtobeaterriblebusinessman.
“That’snothowfinalofferswork,andtheanswerisstillno.”
“What?”Hissmiledropped.“Whynot?”
“Itoldyou,I’mtakingthisagreementwithyourdadseriously.”Istoodup.
Itwasn’tagoodideatolethimtouchmewhilewewerenegotiating.Itbotheredmethat,justlikewithalltheothergirls,histouchdisarmedmeofmylogic.Igatheredsaidlogicbackintomyarmslikeshattered,minisculepiecesofwhatusedtobeasolidstatue,tryingtorearrangemythoughts.
Huntergotup,too,toweringoverme.Myheadreachedhislowerpecs.Ihadtocranemynecktomeethisgaze.
“Word?”Hechangedhistunefrompleasanttodeadlyserious.“You’regoingtocockblockmeforreal?”
AtleastnowIknewwhathadinspiredthemassageandtheTargetgiftcard.
“It’snotlikeI’mgoingtotellDayou’resneakingchicksupforme.It’llbeourdirtylittlesecret.”
“Idon’twantanysecretswithyou.”Ithrewmyhandsintheair,exploding.“Idon’twantanythingwithyou,period.Yourdadisrighttofollowyou.You’rewillingtotossyourfutureawayforsex.”
“I’mnotsupposedtochoose.”Hetousledhishair,thecolorofforgedbronze.“Whydoyouhavetobeanarc?Andwhilewe’reonthesubject,whyareyouweird?Whyarcheryandnot,say,Zumba?Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?You’remakingeverythingharder.”
“Bybeinghonest?”Ilaughedhysterically,advancingtowardmyroom.
Hechasedafterme,again,hisstepslongandferal,makingmyheartleaptomythroat,thumpingitswayfartherup.Icouldn’trememberthelasttimemypulsehadpoundedsoquickly.Hunterjumpedaheadofmeandblockedmywaytothehallway,restinghiselbowsoneithersideofthearchedpassage.
“Insecuritydoesn’tlookgoodonyou,kid.”Hesmirked,taunting.
Ifelttheblushcreepingupfrommynecktothetopofmyheadandknewmyeyeswereshimmeringwithhumiliationandrage.
“Youugly,uglykid.Areyouaboyoragirl?Oh,nevermind.I’lltakewhat’syours,anyway”—thewordsthatchasedmetotheendofworld.
Heremindedmeofher.
Hewasthemaleversionofher.
Ofthegirlwhowantedtobreakme,soI’dvowedtobreakherfirst.
IwantedtothrottleHunter.He’dbeensosureIwasgoingtolethimdowhateverhewantedwhenhecorneredmeintheparkinglot.Heknewifhesleptwithanothergirloutsidetheapartment,hisfatherwouldcatchhim.Iwashisonlychance,andIwasn’tcooperating.
“Fuckyou.”Ibaredmyteeth.
“Afewmoreweekslikethis,andI’llactuallyconsiderit,CarrotTop.”Hethrusthisfaceinminemenacingly.“Whatisitthatyouwant?Money?Power?Icanhookyouupwithoneofmyhigh-profilefriends.Justsayit,Sailor.Spititoutandyou’llhavethepaparazzimonitoringyoureverymove.You’llbethenewSerenaWilliams.Everyonehasaprice.”
Ishookmyhead.“Notme.”
“That’sfakenews.You’rehere,meaningyouwerealreadyboughtbymyfather.Now,whatcanIdotoupmybidandswitchyourloyaltiesfromhimtome?”
Dropdead,Iwantedtoscream.Onlythatwasn’ttrue.Ifhedroppeddeadrighthereandnow,Iwouldn’tswitchloyalties.Iwould,however,danceatophiscorpsewhilethankingGodforsavingmefromsixmonthsoftorture.
Knowingourfirstencounterstogetherweregoingtodictatetherestofourrelationship,Iyankedhimbythecollarofhisshirt,bringinghimclosertomyfacesowewerenosetonose.Icouldbreatheinhismouth.Cinnamongum,mint,andadirty,carnalkissIwouldneverlethappen.
Ifhewasshockedbymyantics,hisfacedidn’tshowit.
“Listentomecarefully,HunterFitzpatrick.Imayseemlikeaninsecure,average-lookinggeektoyou.Andyouknowwhat?That’swhoIam.Iownit.Butmakenomistake,thisinsecuregeekcomesfromalonglineofpeopleyoudonotwanttoscrewwith,andtheirsavageryrubbedoffonmeaswell.Iwillnothesitatetopierceyourpretty,spoiled-princeheartwithoneofmypointyarrows.Butyou’reright.Idohaveaprice.Mysuccessismyprice.BeatingLanaAlderatthisgameismyprice.Youhavenothingtooffermeinthatdepartment.Youwillbecelibate,sober,andcongenial.Wewillattendourfamilyfunctions,playhouse,andbewhateverourparentswantustobe.Andthenwe’llpartwaysandneverspeaktoeachotheragain.AmIclear?”
Ratherthanansweringme,heshookoffmytouch,turnedaround,andstalkeddownthehalltohisroom.Hethrewhisdooropenandslammeditbehindhisback.Iwaitedinthehallwaywithmyarmscrossed,knowingtherealexplosionwassecondsaway.
Hunterwasright.Hedidcavetohisimpulsesandreactthoughtlessly.
“Three,”Iwhispered,holdingthreefingersintheair.“Two,one.”Icurledthemonebyone,myeyestrainedonhiscloseddoor.Everyfiberinmybodyshookwithadrenaline,fear,andamusement.
“Showtime.”Isnappedmyfingers.
Hunterburstfromhisroom,hischeeksflushed,hiseyesdarkened.Twofullmoons.
“Thefuuuuuuuuuck!”
HedrewtheletterUtooblivionandback.Hishandswerefilledwithjunk:theopentincansstillleakingsuspicioussauces,hisdirtyclothes,apairofdesignershoes,andajoystick.“Youdumpedallthegarbageinmyroom.Areyoucrazy?”
“NiceThisisSpartamoment.Allofthisbelongstoyou.”Islopedmychinup,myvoicestern.“Thoughtyou’dappreciategettingitback,sinceitwasthrownalloverourmutualspace.”
Hestaredatmeinshock,likeIwasawild,batteredanimalhehadtotame,arodentvandalizingthisexpensivepenthouse.“You’reinsane.”
Ismiledsweetly.“Beencalledworse.”
“NowIgetit.”Hedroppedthegarbagetothefloor,pointingatme.“You’remypunishmentforwhatIdid.HechosethecraziestbitchinBostontosetmestraight,theoldbastard.”
MaybeHunterwasright.Maybehisfatherhadheardjusthowmuchofanunbearable,career-centeredpartypooperIwas.Althoughtechnically,Icouldn’tbecalledapartypooper,sinceIneverattendedany.
“Makesureyoukeeptheplacetidy,Hunter.Withorwithouthousekeepers,Idon’twanttoliveinfilth,notevenforonehour.Haveagoodnight,roomie,”Ifinished,walkingintomyroomandslammingthedoorinhisface.
1-0,awayteam.Theimportantthingtorememberwas,myballsweren’tgoingtofalloff.
I’dGoogleditafewtimes(twenty-threetimes,ifwe’rebeingspecifichere)tobeonthesafeside.Itwasconfirmed:Icouldliveforsixmonthswithouthavingsexualintercourseandstillsurvive.Physically.Mymindwasanothermatter.IfIwasgoingtoloseitintheprocess,IwasgoingtotearSailorBrennanlimbfromlimb,thensewherbacktogetherintoasexdoll.
Thespitfire,copper-hairedbansheesaidweweren’tgoingtotalktoeachotherafteroursixmonthswereup,butshewaswrongforassumingshecouldgetridofmethateasily.Iwasalreadyfantasizingaboutkillingherinvariouspositions,landscapes,andwithdifferentweaponsoncethiswasover.Cueto:
MestranglingSailoragainstaSiciliansunset.
MeslittingSailor’sthroatwhileweworematchingswimsuitsintheBahamas.
MepushingSailoroffanaerialtramwayonapicturesqueAspenvacation.
Sometimesinthefantasiesshewasasleep,butmoreoftenthannotshewaswideawakeandfullyconscious,witnessingherdemise.
I’dspentthenightonthecouchbecauseIdidn’twanttosleepinmygarbage-filledroom,andtherewasnowayIwascleaningupthemessshe’dleftthere.
Look,maybeIwasn’tcompletelyinnocent.InthetimebeforeSailorinhabitedthisplace,Imighthavethrownmyselfapitypartyanddirtiedupmynewapartmenttomakeshituncomfortableforher,too.Butshedidn’thavetomakeabigdealaboutit.
Isleptinnothingbutmyboxerbriefs.WhenIwokeupwithahard-onlikeasupersizedGermansausage—thekindthatmakesyouwrestlewithyourowndickduringyourmorningpee—Ihopedshe’dcaughtaglimpseofitbeforeshescurriedalongtoherboringdayofshootingobjectsandskippingoffintothesunset,holdinghandswithherhymen.
That’sright,Sailor.Youaren’ttheonlyassholeunderthisroofwithadeadlyweapon.
Whichbroughtmetomynextpoint—whothefuckdoesthat?Justtookshotsatnothing?Shedidn’thuntordoanythingproductivewithhertalent,justaimedatuselesstargets.WhywasthisanOlympicsport?Archerywascheckersforanalpeople.
“Sir,we’rehere,”mydrivermurmuredfromthefrontseat.
MyfirstdayworkingforDaandCillian.AndIneededtosomehowpassmycollegeexamsthisyear.Iwasgoingtosplitcommunitycollegeintheeveningsandworkduringthedayfifty-fifty.Iwasn’tamathgenius,butevenIknewthatleftzerotimeforhavingalife.Dahadreallyriddenmyassthistimearound,bidedhistimewhileIwashavingfuninCaliforniabeforeheshovedaten-inchdildoupmyrectum.Iwasfeelingsoreandtenderevenbeforehegotthegoddamntipin.
Wewereondaytwoofonehundredandeighty-two,butwhothefuckwascounting?
(Answer:me.Iwascounting.)
IstumbledoutoftheexecutivecarandshoulderedthroughthehumantrafficofdowntownBoston,draggingmyfeetintoRoyalPipeline’scrazy-tall,chromeskyscraperthatninety-fivepercentofBostoniansactivelyhatedsomuch,therehadbeenfrequentdemonstrationsoutsidewhentheystartedbuilding.Themonsterhadruinedthecity’sskyline,butitwaswhowasinsideitthathadpersonallyruinedmylife.
Thebestthingabouttheday,otherthannotspendingitwithSailorGoddamnBrennan,wasthatIgottowearaBrionisuit.Wearingsuitswasmyfavorite.Ididn’tevenpretendtoneedanoccasion.Iwenttoparties,themovies,andrestaurantslookinglikeJayGatsby.
Ispenthalfanhourwithsecuritygettingmynametag,electroniccard,andatonofotherbullshit,thenproceededuptotheeighthfloor,wheremyfather’sofficewas.
Iskulkedovertomainreceptionandapproachedaprettyreceptionistwitheyessovacantshecouldpassasalife-sizedBarbie.
Betshecanbendherknees,though.
“’Sup.HunterFitzpatrick’sinthehouse.”Iparkedanelbowonhercounter.“Where’smyoffice?”
Twosevere-lookingmenbehindmesnortedtoeachother,shooktheirheads,andwalkedaway.Theblondestaredatmewithamixofhorrorandreluctance.MaybeIwasgivingheraggressivevibesbecauseIhadn’thadmydicksuckedinalmosttwoweeks.
“E-e-electroniccard?”shestuttered,almostflinching.Iwaspersonanongratainsidetheseglasswalls,whichledmetobelieveIwasn’tseeingtheentirepicture.Whywasshescared?
IflashedherthecardI’dreceivedwhenIenteredthebuilding,lettingitsnapbackintomyfrontblazer’spocketaftershescannedit.
“F-f-followme.”
Withthegingerstepsofalabmouse,sheledmepastthemainareaoftheofficespace,whichhadgold-and-blackmarbleflooring,floor-to-ceilingwindows,andlongdesksoccupiedbyMacBooks,hot-asssecretaries,personalassistants,andmailboysrunningbusilyfromcornertocorner.
Envelopingtheroomwerefishbowl-likeoffices.ThebiggestonebelongedtoDa,followedbyCillian’s(secondbiggest),andSyllie’s(thirdbiggest).Blondieledmetoanancient-lookingoakdeskthatappearedtohavebeendraggedfromDr.Frankenstein’sbasement,completewithaphoneandacomputermonitorfromtheeighties.Youknow,thebrick-likethingthatresemblesamedievalweapon.Themakeshiftstationwasgluedtomyfather’sglasswall.
“Thefuckisthisshit?”Iinquiredthroughatight,gentlemanlysmile.
“T-t-that’syourworkarea.R-r-rightoutsideyourfather’soffice,sohecanoverlookyourp-p-progress.”Shesaidtheentiresentencelikeithadbeenrehearsedathousandtimesover.
Iturnedtostareather,frowning.Sothat’swhyshewasscared.ShethoughtIwasgoingtokillthemessenger.Intruth,Iwouldmaybechokeherwhilelettingherjerkmeoffinthecommunalrestroomsifshewasintothatkindofstuff.AsI’vesaid,I’mnotaviolentman.
Sheclearedherthroat,straighteningherspine.
“Y-y-yourfathersaidifyouhaveanissue,youshouldtakeitupwithHRandt-t-then—”
Insteadofwaitingforherfinishthesentencesometimenextyear,Isawmyselfintomyfather’soffice,flingingtheglassdooropenandsteppinginbriskly,apleasantsmileonmyface.Blondieranafterme,stutteringherapologiestoDa,Syllie,andCillian.BothmensatinfrontofDaathisdesk,hunchedoverablueprint.
IwavedBlondieoff.“Show’sover,sweetheart.YoucangobacktowatchingTheMaskedSingerunderyourdesk,thinkingnobodyknowswhatyou’redoing.It’sbeenreal.”
Iwantedtoslamthedoorinherfaceforeffect,butitwasoneofthosefancy,slow-movingdoors,soweallstoodthereforeightseconds,watchingitanticlimacticallyslitheringitswayshut.Behindtheglass,Icouldseeshockandhorroronherface.
Iturnedaroundtomyfather,openingmyarmswithafakesmile.“Athair,”Isaid.FatherinGaelic.“Sohappytoseeyou.Andbyhappy,Imeanwhywouldyoucontinuepushingmewhenyou’vealreadytakeneverything?”
Ididn’tcarethatCillianandSylliewerethere.Sylliewaspracticallyfamily,andCillianwasfamily.Regretfully,thatis.
Currentmoodsong:“GreekTragedy”byTheWombats.
“Ceannbeag,Iseecelibacyiseatingatbothyourbrainsandmanners.”Cillianarchedaneyebrowashadedarkerthanmine.
Everythingaboutthefuckerwasdarkerthanme—soulincluded.I’vealwaysthoughtitironicthatCillianandvillaincontainsomanyofthesameletters.
“Heneverhadbrainstobeginwith,sodon’twasteyourtimeworryingaboutthembeingeaten.”Myfatherreturnedtofrowningatthedocumentspreadonthedesk,blueprintsofthenewrefineryeverybodywastalkingaboutdownstairs.Hepushedhisreadingglassesupthebridgeofhisnose,hisSharpiehoveringoverthepaper.“What’sthematternow,ceannbeag?”heasked.
CeannbeagmeantlittleoneinGaelic,whichwouldhavebeenendearingifitweren’tforthefactthatIwasn’tthebabyofthefamily.ThatwasAisling.Iwasthemiddlechild.WayIsawit,Isimplygotthesmallestchunkofmyfather’sheartoutofusthree.
“Isyourroommatenottoyourtaste?”Ahintofasmirktuggedatthesideofmyfather’smouthashemadenoteswitharedSharpieallovertheblueprint
Ididn’ttakethebait.HewaswaitingtohearhowmuchIhatedstraight-laced,ball-bustingSailor.Which,granted,Idid,butwhygivehimthesatisfaction?
“Sailor?Sheisgrand.Fuckinghot,too.ShameI’mcelibatethesedays,”Itooted,drapingashoulderoveroneofhisglasswalls.Iknewitwastheultimatetaunt.IfmyfatherwasundertheimpressionthatIwasfuckingSailorwhileIwasnotfuckingSailor,andSailordenieditvehemently—whichshewould—Dawouldhavetocontinuehonoringhisdealwithbothofus.
TroyBrennan,Sailor’sda,supposedlygavetheGrimReaperarunforhismoney.ThatmeantSailorwasgoingtowalkawaywithallthatwaspromisedtoher,andIwithallthatwaspromisedtome.Evenmyfatherwasn’tdumbenoughtopokeaguylikeBrennanwiththeinsinuationthatI’dscrewedhisbabygirl.
Ihadn’thadthedispleasureofmeetingBrennanyet,soitwaseasytousehisdaughterasapawn.
Myfather’sfacefellashetorehiseyesfromtheblueprint,scanningme.
“Ifeverythingisgrandanddandy,whyareyouhere,inmyoffice,uninvited?”
Ipointedatmystationoutsidehisdoor.“Adogbedwouldhavebeenmorefitting.”
“Perhaps,butnotinsyncwiththegeneraldesign,”Dafinished,puttinghisSharpiebetweenhisteethandclampingonitwithasmile.
“AmIalsotogetthecateringscrapsaftertherestoftheteamisdoneeatinglunch?”
“ProvidedyoubehavelikeacivilizedgentlemanandnotaGirlsGoneWilddropout.”
Hewasenjoyingthisexchange,andallthefucksIhadn’tgiventhroughouttheyearswerestartingtomountintoanimpressivesum.Icared,andIwasfurious.Specifically,Icaredabouthowmuchmyfamilyhatedme.ItwasbadenoughIhadzerofriendsinBostonandavoidedmyfamilyliketheplague,nowIhadtospendmydayssittinginapermanentnaughtyspotoutsideDa’soffice.
“Iwantanoffice,”Iclipped.
“Earnit,”myfatherchallenged.“Youhaven’toneseriousboneinyourbody.”
Otherthanmyboner.
Okay,fuck.Notconstructive.
“Now,now.”Sylliestoodup,motioningwithhishandstocalmthestormbrewingintheoffice.Hewasalankyman,paleasacorpse,thedark,closelyshavedstubbleoverhisskingivinghisjawabluishhue.
Itdidn’tsurprisemethatCillianremainedquiet.WatchingDagivemethethirddegreewashisfavoritepastime,asidefromsacrificingvirginsandkittenstoSatan,maybe.
“Let’scalmdownhere,”Sylliesuggested.“HowaboutIswitchthingsaroundandgethimadeskwiththeassistants?It’llbeeasierforhimtolearnthatway.”
“No,”Daboomed.“HewillbewhereIcanseehim.KillandIwillteachhimtheropesourselves.”
“Iunderstand.ButHunterisstillaFitzpatrickandneedstobecrownedasonetoshowsolidarity.Withallduerespect—”Sylliebeganamiably.
NowitwasCillian’sturntorisetohisfeet,wavinghisfingertipsdismissively,asiftheoldmanwasacommonservant.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossibleforCilliantobreathewithoutlookingperverselypatronizing.
“Thankyou,”hesnappedatSyllie,whowastwicehisage.Bastard
“Whatfor?”Sylliefrowned.
“Excusingyourselfandgivingusourprivacy.Offyougo.”
“But…”
“Begracefulindefeat.”Killflashedawolfishsmirk,toothywithapromisetobitewhenprovoked.“Youareembarrassingyourself,andtheboy.Leave.”
Sylvesterglaredathim,hismouthhanging,beforehenoddedandambledovertowhereIwasstanding,bythedoor.Heputhishandonmyshoulder,shootingmeasympatheticsmile.
“Welcomeback,Sonny-boy,”hewhispered.
Isqueezedhishandonmyshoulder,half-nodding.AssoonasSylvesterexited,Iturnedtomybrother.“Fuck,man,you’reacunt.”
“Andtothinkyouspenttwelveyears’privateschooltuitionforthatmouth.”Cillianrolledtheblueprintonthedeskneatly,hisbacktome.Fuckernevercursed.“Isittoolatetoaskforyourmoneyback,Athair?”
“Unfortunately,yes,moórga.”Mygolden.
“Mybadforbeingalive.Forwhatit’sworth,IwishI’dbeenpulledoutbeforeconception,”Imuttered,unabletostopmymouthfromrunning.
IwastheonlyFitzpatrickwhosetrashtalkrivaledthatofourancestors,who’darrivedinMassachusettsonshipsfromIrelandasdusty-asssailorswiththevocabularyofgutterrappers.
Bothmenlookedatmewithopendisdain.Ihatedit,hatedthattheywereunitedandhadafather-sonrelationship,thatIwasastrangerinthistown,inthisbuilding,andintheirhome,whereIwasn’twelcome.
“Speakingofpullingout…”Mybrotherturnedtowardme.
I’dforgottenhowtallCillianwas.HefilledhisArmanisuitlikehewasborninit.Hisbrownhairwastrimmedtoneatperfection,hiseyesgoldenandflaxen,justlikehisnickname—moórga
“Isyoursextapestillmakingtheroundsontheinternet?”heasked.
AfterI’dboardedmyfather’sGulfstreamfromSanDiegotoBoston,Ifoundouthe’dappointedateamofsixITwizardstotrytotakethatbitchdown—notonlyfromcyberland,buttosteerthemediaclearofthestory.
ThatonlywenttoshowthatDahadnoideahowtheinternetworked.Ifitwasthereforasecond,itwasthereforever.Therewasalwaysgoingtobesomeonetosaveandrepostit.Ididn’twannabreakthenewsthatevenhedidn’thaveenoughjuicetoaltertheinternet,soIlethimhavehismomentintheviralsun.ButIhadnoillusions.Thatvideowastheretostay.
WhenI’dshownmyfaceatAveburyCourtManorbeforefuckingofftomydick-shapedbuilding,MomhadaskedmeifIwasn’tworriedmyfuturewifewouldseeit.I’dtoldherifshewatchedit,she’dseeshehadeveryreasontobethrilledaboutmyperformance.
Realtalk,though?Iwasn’tgoingtogetmarriedinamillionyears.Whybuyacowwhenyoucandeveloplactoseintolerancebydrinkingmilkfromeverysingletitinyourvicinity?I’dseenmyfriendsfallinloveandgotoextremelengthstogetthegirl.Itseemedlikeagiantdrag.
“Nope.”IsmirkedsmuglyatCillian,tryingtosavewhateverwasleftofmypride.Iwasslowlycomingtotermswiththefactthatmyfatherwasgoingtoruinthenextsixmonthsforme,andIjusthadtoseethisshitthrough.“Allclear.Asfaraspeopleareconcerned,I’masgoldenasyouare,oldsport.”
ItsuckedthatIcouldn’tevenrememberthestupidorgythatgotmeintotrouble.I’dlovetoholdontothosepreciousmemorieswheneverIhadtodealwithDaorKill.
“Stopsayingoldsport.You’renotTheGreatGatsby,”myfathersaid.
“Killthinkseverythingisapissingcontest,”Igrowled.
“Everythingisapissingcontest.Thosewholosearetheoneswhowhineaboutit.”
“Bet,yo.”Ipoppedmycinnamongum,nodding.
“Bet?Yo?”KilllookedatmelikeIwasahorrificcaraccident.“Whotalkslikethat?WhatdoyouhaveagainsttheEnglishlanguage?Youseemtobutcheritwhenevertheopportunitypresentsitself.DidEnglishhurtyouwhenyouwereyoung?Showmewhereonthedoll.”
“Here.”Ipointedmyindextomytemple,myhandgun-shaped,andpuffedmycheeks,pretendingtoshootmyselfinthehead.
Mybrothershookhisheadandleftmewithmyfather.ItwasoddtosharethesamespacewithDawithoutsomeonebufferingus,averyrareoccasionindeed.
DahadalwaysseemedtohaveasoftspotforinnocentAisling,andhewasenamoredwithdevilishlysmartandself-possessedCillian.IwasthesavagecreaturewholackedthatFitzpatrickshine,andwebothknewwhy,butneitherofushadtheballstosayitoutloud.
Myfatherremovedhisglassesanddiscardedthematophisdesk,leaningbackinhisseat.
“RememberthedocumentIshowedyou?TheoneinwhichIremovedyoufromourwill?”heasked.
“NotasightI’llsoonforget.”Ispatmygumintothetrashcanacrosstheoffice,slam-dunkingitseamlesslyfrommymouth.Iwasn’tembarrassedtoadmitIwantedmyfamilyfortune,bad.Myinheritancewasmyonlychanceatsurvival.Iwasn’tgoodatanything,otherthanfuckingandthrowingparties.TheonlythingthosetraitsqualifiedmetobecomewasaVegasshowgirl.Unfortunately,Ididn’thavetherackforthat.
“Isentittomyattorney,signedbybothyourmotherandme.”Hetappedhischin,asifmullinghiswordsover.
Ifelttheinsideofmyveinsscorching,myhandscurlingintofistsbesidemybody.“WhywouldyoudothatwhenI’veagreedtoyourterms?”Iasked,morecalmlythanIgavemyselfcreditfor.Hysteriadidn’tgetyoufarintheFitzpatrickhousehold.Themoreemotionalyouwere,thebetterchanceyouhadatgettingyourheartcrushedbyDaandKill
“Toldthemtoholdontoituntilyoufinishyoursix-monthstint,justtomakesureyouknewhowseriouslyyourmotherandIaretakingthismatter.”
Isaidnothing.Iwasathismercy,anditmademefurious.Maybeitwasn’tsuchabadideatogotocollegeandfindsomethingtofallbackon.IlookedoutthewindowattheloomingskyscrapersofBoston.Myfingerswrappedaroundthewoodenhorseonmyneck.
“Stopclutchingyourpearls,anddon’tmessitupwiththeBrennangirl,”Dagrowled.
DroppingmyhandfromtheDalahorse,IbittheinsideofmycheekuntilIfeltthewarmsaltinessofbloodrollinginmymouth.
“Nowgetthehelloutofmyofficeandmakeyourworkspaceyournewhome.”
“Yes,sir.”
Atonepoint,Ithoughtthedaycouldn’tgetanyshittier,butIshouldn’thaveunderestimatedit.IspentthenextfewhoursreadingalltheavailablematerialaboutRoyalPipelinesandfamiliarizingmyselfwiththecompany’spolicy,history,andorigins.
Therewasashit-tonofstuffIdidn’tknowaboutit.
Likethefactthatin2015,GreenWorldactivistshadshutdownsixty-eightofourstationsintheUStoprotestourdrillingintheArctic.
OrthatwewereoneofthefirstcompaniesintheUStoemployspecialneedspersons,orthattherewereseveralschoolsinEastAsiaandAfricanamedaftermyfamily,becausewe’dfundedthem.
RoyalPipelinesseemedtobeadouble-edgedsword:goodforsomecommunities,disastrousforothers.IwonderedifDaandKillevengaveaflyingfuckaboutshittingallovertheenvironment.Myguesswastheydidn’t.
Afteradayfromhell,mydemeaning,piece-of-shitbrothertestedmeonmyknowledgeaboutthecompanyandsentmebacktomydeskwithsixmorethick-assbookstoread.That’showIfoundmyselfwobblingoutoftheofficeatseveno’clock,starving,missingmyfirsteveningclassatcollege,andwithaheadachethatfeltlikesomeonethrewaraveinmyskull,andeverybitchinattendanceworehighheels.
AllIwantedwastogetacab,gobackhome,andshovemyfaceintowhateverdishthecookhadmadethatday.IorderedanUberandstoodonthecurbofthedowntownstreet,watchingthevelvetbluenightdescendingovertheyellow-litstreet.AbrandnewMaseratipulledupinfrontofme.Thepassengerdoorflewopen.
“Getin,”astrongSouthieaccentorderedfrominside.
Iarchedaneyebrowandcockedmyheadsideways.“Lovelyproposition,andI’mverytempted,butIthinkI’llpass.”
ItwasgoodtoknowIstillheldontomygoodlooks,eveninfullemployment.Didn’tmatterthathewasobviouslyadude,acomplimentwasacompliment,avitalsign.Onehundredandeighty-onedaysofcelibacytogo.
“Getinrightnow,orI’llpayyouavisitinyourfancynewapartment.Fairwarning:youdonotwantafemaleaudiencefortheconversationwe’reabouttohave.”
TroyBrennan.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
HeandDahadgoneoverthefineprintofmyarrangementwithSailor,butI’dnevermethim.NodoubtthatwasDa’sdecision.HeprobablywantedtoprotectmefromcertaindeathbecauseI’dhavesaidsomethingextrainappropriateoroffensive.Ormaybeitwasthefactthathetookmoreprideinhisshitsthanhetookinmeandmydirtydeeds.
Eitherway,Brennanwasherenow,readytotalk.Sonottalkingwasn’tanoption.Igotintohiscar,whichsmelledofpolishedleatherandthekindofwealththatwasalmosttangible.Icouldtasteitonmytongue.Iinhaleddeeply.NinehoursintheofficehadmademefeellikeI’dworkedinamineforanentiredecade.
Ipressedmyheadagainstthecool,butteryleather,closingmyeyes,knowinghewaswatchingme.MyAdam’sapplebobbedandIwetmylips,ignoringhisblade-sharpgaze.
Troystarteddriving.Ididn’taskwhere.Idoubtedhe’dtellme,andevenifhehad,itwasn’tlikeIhadshittosayaboutit.Silverlining:ifIdied,atleastIwouldn’thavetoshowuptoworktomorrow.
“Itrustwedon’tneedaformalintroduction.”Hetookaturnontoasidestreet,cuttingHaymarketandBowdoin.
“Straightup,”Irepliedgroggily.Iwasabouttofallasleepinhiscar.HecouldcutmeuprightnowandallI’dthinkaboutwashowniceandwarmthebodybagwasgoingtofeel.Ididn’tevencarethatmyUberratingwasgoingtodropforgoingMIAonthedriver’sass.
“ThenIalsotrustyouknowwhyyou’rehere.”Troy’svoicewasvillainousashell.HesoundedlikeShredderfromtheNinjaTurtlesmovies.
Dudewasquitethetrustingmotherfuckerforsomeonewhosupposedlyhadenoughskeletonsinhisclosettoopenagraveyard.Iforcedmyeyelidsapart,stiflingayawn.Itriedtofocusmygazeonhisdarkenedprofile.
“I’mguessingit’salongthelinesof:don’ttouchmydaughter,don’tbreakherheart—orhymen—don’tgiveheranylong-termideas,blahblah…”Itrailedoff,wonderingwhatthecookhadmadefordinner.Ididn’tevenknowifsaidcookwasachickoradude,oldoryoung.Probablyneverwould,withmycurrentschedule.
Troystoppedthecar,breakingfrommid-speed,leavingskidmarksonthestreetbythesoundofit.Carshonkedbehindhim.Iheardascreech,followedbyafenderbender.ButallTroydidwasstareatmelikeIwasthecraziestassholehe’deverlaideyeson.
“No,youclown.Idon’tthinkyoustandachancewithmydaughter.She’snotcutfromthesamedimeadozenhussyclothyou’reusedto.WhywouldIassumesheneedsprotectionfromyouanymorethanyouneedprotectionfromher?”
“Yeah.Why?”anothervoiceinquiredfrombehindme.
Ijumpedsohighinmyseat,myheadhittheroofofthecar.Christonascooter.Ispunmyheadsharply,scowling.Ashadowedmansatinthebackseat.Helookedtall,chiseled,Caucasian,andnotunlikeamobster—alittleolderthanmeandcallousedAF.
“Andyouare?”Mybrowsarched.
“SamBrennan.Troy’sadoptiveson.”
“Justson,”Troycorrectedunemotionally.
Aww.Eventhisserial-killer-ninja-assholelovedhiskidmorethanDalovedme.
I’dheardaboutSam.Rumorhadithe’dbeenorphanedatayoungage.Troy’sbestfriendandhisformermistressweretheparents.Troyandhiswife,Sparrow,hadlegallyadoptedhimaroundthetimeSailorwasborn.
“WhichmakesmeSailor’sslightlyunhinged,overprotectivebrotherwithachiponmyshoulder.Whichmakesyoutheperfectcandidateformyfist.”
Whatafuckingfamily,man.NowonderSailorwastoughasnails.ThetestosteroneintheBrennanhouseholdwasprobablyenoughforallthefrathousesontheEastCoast.
“Areyouthreateningme?”Ibaredmyteeth.
“Yes,”TroyandSamansweredinunison,theirvoicesflatlined.
Thelittleshe-devilknewhowtoworkadeadlyweaponwithOlympicskill.Ifanyoneneededprotectioninthatgoddamnapartment,itwasme
“IfyouthinkyourpreciousSailoristoogoodformyass,thenwhyamIhere?”
Morecarshonked.AwhiteHondawentforanongoingblare,whichratchetedthepressureinmyheadtoexplosivemagnitudes.IwantedtoburnBostondown,startingwithTroy,Sam,Sailor,andmyimmediatefamily(possiblysparingAislingandherpetferret,Shelly,ifshestillhadit).
“You’reherebecauseIheardallaboutyouranticsinCalifornia,andIdon’twantmydaughtertosufferbecauseyou’reslightlylesscivilizedthanachimp.SoI’mtellingyounow,nofunnybusiness,notricks,nopranks.Youkeeptheapartmentniceandtidy,youdon’tmakeanynoise,andyoustaypoliteandcourteoustoher.Neighborly.Understood?”
TroylookednonchalantforsomeonewhowascurrentlyblockingabusystreetinBostonduringrushhour.Iwonderedwhatitfeltliketowalkaroundwithballsthatweighedfivetonseach.Lotsofbackproblems,Iimagined.
Ilookedathimlikehewasinsane.Tobefair—hewas.
HadSailorspilledthebeanstoherdaddyaboutmylackoforganizationalskills?Shedidn’tseemlikethesnitchingtype.Thenagain,whatdidIactuallyknowabouther?
Thatshecankillyou.Andthatthethoughtappealstoher.
“I’mbeingneighborlyasfuck,sir.Ievengaveheragiftcardyesterday.”
Andafootmassage,beforesheshatallovermyplan,butIdeductedthetouchingpartoutofconcernformyballs.
“Shedoesn’tneedgiftcards.Giveherthegiftofnotbeinganidiot.Becauseifyouhurther,Iwillhavetokillyou.AndIdon’tmeanthatasafigureofspeech.Iwillliterallykillyou.”
Istaredathim,waitingforthelaughandslapontheback.Itnevercame.
“Ishesloworshocked?”Samaskedfrombehindus,lightingacigarette.
“Both,”Troydeadpanned.
“Justshocked,”Ibitout.“It’snoteverydaypeoplethreatentokillme.”
“That’sasurprise,”Troynotedsarcastically.
“It’sapromiseifyoucrosstheline,”Samamended.“So,technically,notathreatperse.”
IwastryingtofigureoutwhatIcouldsaywithoutsoundinglikeawhinydouche.“I’mgoingtotellmyoldman.”
Damn,thatwasn’tit.Isoundedlikeawhinydoucheandasap.
“Healreadyknows,andlet’sjustsayhewouldn’tconsideritagreatloss.”Troyliftedaneyebrow.
Touché.
“Icouldtellthepolice,”Icountered.
“They’reinourpocket,”Samansweredfrombehindmyback,yawningprovocatively.“Anyotherpeopleyouwanttotalktoaboutourconversation,orcanyoujustgrowapairandbeadecentfuckinghuman?”
Whentheyputitlikethat,IguessIreallydidn’thavemuchchoice.
Also,wasIbeingjudgedbyacoupleofmurderers?Ireallyshouldtakealong,hardlookatmylife.
Troyresumedhisdriving,butnotbeforesomecarshaddrivenupthecurbtopasshim.Peopleyelledandflippedusthebirdastheyspedby.ItwasonlywhenwegottotheWestEnd’scock-shapedbuildingwhereSailorandIlivedthatIrealizedIhadn’tbeenbreathingtheentiredurationofthedrive.
IinhaledoxygenlikeI’djustcomeupfromthreeminutesunderwaterasTroyunlockedthedoors.Ipushedmineopen.
“Remember,”hesaidfromthedepthsofhiscar,hisfaceovercastwiththestreet’sshadow.“Playnice.”
“Andclean,”Sam’svoiceboomedfrombehind.
“I’llkillherwithkindness,”Ibitoutgrumpily.
“JesusChrist,I’venevermetsomeonesoeagertogetpunched,”Troymurmured.“GetoutbeforeIgiveyouwhatyou’rebeggingfor.”
AsItooktheelevatoruptothepenthouse,Irealizedwhatthecherryontheshitcakethisdayhadservedmewas:Myfather’speoplehadtohaveseenmegettingintoTroy’scar—theyhadeyesonmewhereverIwas—buttheydidn’tdoadamnthingaboutit.
Ireallywasaloneintheworld.Thatweek,myfacewasplasteredoneverybusinBoston.Itwasanoldpictureofmesmilingtothecamerawhileclutchingmybowtomychest.Itread:
Boston’sSailorBrennanfortheOlympics!
GeraldFitzpatrick’sdoing.Hewasmakinggoodonhispromisetograntmemoreexposure.He’dhiredateamtomaintainmyneglected(read:nonexistent)socialmediaaccounts,includingTwitter,Instagram,andFacebook.He’dalsoassignedaPRmanagerforme.HernamewasCrystal,andshehadathick,LongIslandaccentthatrattledlikeshechained-smokedfivepacksofcigarettesaday.
IwantedtocurlinonmyselfuntilIwasthesizeofanappleeverytimeIsawmyfacegrinningmaniacallyonabus,butIdidn’tcomplain.
ThentherewasHunter.
He’dspentthelastfivedaysignoringmyexistence.Atleasthewasbeingtidyandpolitewhiledoingso.
Tobefair,therewasn’tmuchtimeforsocializingforeitherofus.Ileftthehouseatsixo’clockeverymorningtohitthegym,thenheadedtothearcheryclubuntilnighttime,practicingorgivinglessons.Hunterworkedandstudiedfromninetoeight.
Whenhegothome,hetooktwoplatesofwhateverthecook,Nora,hadleftonthestovetoptohisroom,armedwithtextbooksforhiscollegecourses,andslammedthedoorbehindhimwithhisfoot.Inthemornings,I’dfindtheplateswashedandhisbedroomdoorslightlyajar,thesoundofhimsnoringsoftlyseepingintothehallway.
Itworriedmethathedidn’ttakeabreak.Notthatitshould.Hunterwasn’tmybusiness.
…onlyhekindofwas
Partofmyjobwastomakesurehewasokay.IwonderedifIshouldemailGeraldaboutHunter’smood.IwassupposedtogivetheFitzpatrickpatriarchdetailed,weeklyupdates,buttheywereofatechnicalnature,andhehadn’tmentionedanythingaboutHunter’smentalhealth.
Ihadn’ttalkedtomyparentsaboutHunter.IignoredallquestionsregardinghimandfocusedontellingthemaboutJunsuandmytraining,whichwasbecomingmoregruelingbytheday.MysavinggracewasknowingthatcomeSaturday,HunterandIwereattendingaRoyalPipelinesfundraisingeventtogether.Icouldcheckonhimthen.
TheFitzpatrickshadthoughtitbestifwemetthemsomewhereneutralsowecouldfamiliarizeourselveswitheachotherbeforewestartedcomingoverfordinners.Littledidtheyknow,IhadnoqualmsaboutmeetingtheminAntarcticaorafilthyalleywayaslongasIcouldshowupinrippedjeans,sneakers,andaDriFitshirt.Sincethatwasoffthetableata5k-per-headdinnerpartyintheglitzyRooseveltHotel,Ihadtoacquireanactualdress.
Iownedexactlyzerodresses.BelleandPersy,whowerebothmuchmorevoluptuousthanmeandthereforecouldn’tlendmeanything,jumpedtomyrescue.Ithoughtthey’dbedraggingmethroughshopsatthemall—myideaoftorture—andhadalreadybracedmyselfforanafternoonfromhell.
OnFriday,rightaftertheyfinishedtheircollegeclassesandJunsudismissedmefromtraining,EmmabellesentmeamessagetomeetthemataSouthEndaddress.WhenIGoogleMappedit,Ifoundoutitwasabutcher.Idecidedaskingquestionswouldseemungrateful,andItrustedtheyknewIwasn’tthekindofchicktomakeaweirdfashionstatementalaLadyGaga’smeatdress.
Iparkedmycarinfrontofarowofred-brickedbuildings.Oneofthemhadablackmetaldoorthatobviouslyledtothebutcher.Iwaitedinmycar,enginerunning,nibblingonthedeadskinaroundmynails.“There’sNoHomeforYouHere”byTheWhiteStripesblaredfromtheBluetooth.ItmademethinkofHunter
Iconsideredbailingonthefundraiser.Ihatedparties,hadneverdancedinmylife,andtherewasareasonIneverwentshopping—IfeltlikeaglorifiedcoathangerwhenItriedonfancyclothes.Icouldalwaysseemyribcagepokingthroughthefabric,thecorpse-likeoutlineofmysternum.
Still,thefighterinmehadtoseethisthrough.Hunter’sfamilywascountingonme,Ineededhisfather’sendorsement,andbesides—IowedittoHunter,evenifIdislikedhim.
Aknockonmycarwindowmademejumpinsurprise.Forsomestupidreason,Ithoughtit’dbehim.Butno.Behindtheglass,Belleflashedmearowofwhite,pearlyteeth.Shewiggledherlighteyebrows,openingthedoorformeandofferingmealittlebow.Persephonewasbehindher,jumpingupanddownandsqueakingindelight.Isteppedoutofthecar,eyeingthemwithsuspicion.
“Abutcher,huh?”Iyankedmybrownleathersatchelandhoisteditovermyshoulder,frowningattheircollectiveexcitement.
“Keepanopenmind,ho.”Bellegrinned.“Bastard’snotgoingtoknowwhathithimwhenheseeswhataknockoutyouareundertheserags.”
“Seriously,Hunterisgoingtodieafterwe’redonewithyou.”Persypracticallyshovedmeacrossthestreettothemysteriousblackdoor.
“Isthatapromise?”Imumbled.
IwouldactuallyhavetotalktoHuntertomorrow,afterfivedaysofradiosilence.Tomysurprise,myhatredtowardhimhadsomewhatdissipated,fizzlingtoasmallflickerofdislike.
“PersyandIhavereachedtheconclusionthatforHuntertogrowupandtakeresponsibility,andforyouto…well,getalifeandaclue,youguysneedtofallinlove,”Belleexplained,knockingonthemetaldoorthatrattledagainstherring-filledfingers.
IfPersephonewasconventionallybeautiful,Emmabellewasarisquépinupgirlwho’dneverbetamed.Persyworearedpolka-dotdress,whileEmmabelleworecondom-tightleatherpantsandaholeywhitedesignershirtthatprobablycostafortune.Herlipswerebig,pouty,andinfinitelyred,hereyesdarkblue,liketheoceanonastormyday.IfHunterthoughtIhadamouthonme,Bellewoulddemolishhimcompletely,allwhilelookinglikealong-lostHadidsister.
“TheonlypersonHunterFitzpatrickiscapableoflovingishimself.Eventhen,hedoesashittyjob.Lookatallthemesshegothimselfinto,”Ipointedout.
BelleandPercyweretheonlypeopleIhadtoldaboutmyagreementwithHunterotherthanmyfamily.Iknewtheywouldnevertellasoulandtrustedthemwithmylife.
Thedoorwhined,strainingagainstitsownrustasitwasyankedopen.Anold,wrinklymanwithwhitehairwearingaheavy-dutyvinylbutcherapronnoddedhello,leadingustohisbackyardsilently.Hesmelledofrawmeatandsweat,notexactlylikeMacy’s.Wefollowedhimashestompedtowardashed.Iwasabouttoaskmyfriendsifthiswasaspontaneousescaperoomwhenheunlockedit,openedthedoor,andmotionedusinsidewithoutcomingin.
“Everythingisseventypercentoffretail.Noreceipts.Noreturns,”hesaidsternly,turnedaround,andtrampedaway.
Istaredatmytwofriends,bewildered.
Belleshrugged,tearinghersunhatoffherheadandboomerangingittohersister.“Retailisjustanotherwordfordevil,andthedevilwearsPrada.Coincidentally,IcannotaffordPrada.ButIcanaffordthis.”
“Howdoeshegethishandsontheseclothes?”Myeyesflared,notthatIhadtherighttobepreachy.Myfatherranaless-than-cleanshop,andSamfollowedhisfootsteps.Thedifferencewas,Ihadnothingtodowiththeiraffairs.
“He’sgotguyswhoraidvesselsbeforetheyreachtheport.SuperWildWest.Theyknowwheretolook,whatto…extract.”Emmabellesnickered,flippingthelightswitchonwithafamiliaritythatsuggestedshewasaregularvisitor,andsauntereddeeperintotheroom.Theplacewasfullofracks.Rowsandrowsofweddingdresses,ballroomgowns,andupmarketfrocksI’donlyseenHollywoodstarletswearing.Iopenedmymouth,abouttotellthemthiswasn’tagoodidea,whenPersypressedafingertomylips,shuttingmeup.
“Look,I’mnotahugefanofthis,either.Butyouhateshoppingmallsandbusystreetsand…youknow,people.Thisisourbestshot.”
“Thisiswrong,”Iwhispered.
IalwaysturnedablindeyetowhatmydadandSamdid.Ithelpedmelovethemwholly.Butthatdidn’tmeanIagreedwithhowtheychosetomakemoney.
“C’mon,Sailor.”Emmabellechuckled,herupperbodyalreadyobscuredbylushfabricsasshesiftedthroughthedresses.“Theonlypeoplewhogetscrewedoveraretopdesignerswhochargetwograndforadressthatcostsfiftybuckstomake.TheUSeconomywillnotcollapseifyoubuyoneeveningdress.”
Inodded,takingadeepbreath.
“Okay,justchoosewhateveryouthinkwon’tmakemelooklikeafancydessert.”
Persyclappedherhands,makingherwaypasthersistertotheXXSrackandbrowsingthroughit.Ignawedatthedeadskinaroundmythumbnailastheypluckedgarmentaftergarmenttheywantedmetotryon,hangingthemontheirforearms
Myphonepingedinmybackpocket.Itookitoutandreadthetextmessage.
HHH:Don’tforgetaboutSaturday’sfundraiser.
Sailor:Whoisthis?
HHH:Howmanypeopleareyouplanningongoingtoafundraiserwith?
Sailor:Hunter?Youaddedyourselftomycontacts?
HHH:ThefactthatI’mthereisprettyself-explanatory.
Sailor:Howdareyoutouchmythings!
HHH:Easy,killer.Ididn’ttouchyourphone.
Sailor:Thenhowdidyougethere?
HHH:Iaskedahackerfriendtoaddmeintoyourcontacts.
Sailor:WHAT?
HHH:You’remoreeasilyscandalizedthana16thcenturyBritishduchess.Calmyourtits,CarrotTop.Ididn’tlookthroughyourshit.
HHH:(notthatIwouldfindanythinginterestingthere)
Sailor:Doyourealizehowillegalthatis?
HHH:CorrectmeifI’mwrong,butIdon’trememberyourdaddybeingoneoftheninejusticesoftheSupremeCourt.
HHH:Olderbrodoesn’tseemtobeworkingtowardalawdegree,either.
Sailor:I’mgoingtokillyou.
HHH:Standinline,sweetheart.You’renotevenoneofthefirsttwentypeoplewaiting.
HHH:Andyoustillhaven’tansweredmeaboutSaturday.Btw,youcan’twearyogapantsandahoodiethere.Especiallyonmyarm.
Sailor:Let’stakealittledetour—whatdoesHHHstandfor?
HHH:Hot,HandsomeHunter,naturally.
Sailor:I’mspeechlessrightnow.
HHH:Apictureissaidtobeworthathousandwords.Sendnudes.
Sailor:Idon’tthinkI’llbeabletostandyouforconsecutivehours.
PersyandBelleburstoutlaughingfromthecorneroftheroom,drawingmyattention.Ilookedupfrommyphone,havingalightbulbmoment.Thiscouldalleviatesomeofthefundraiserproblem.IstartedtypingbeforeHunterhadthechancetosendmeanothersnidecomment,thethreedotsnexttohisnamealreadydancing.
Sailor:Iwanttoinvitetwoofmyfriendstothecharityevent,butyou’llhavetofootthebill.
HHH:Ismellanegotiation.
Sailor:I’mnotlettingyoudrinkorhookupwithsomeoneinourapartment.
HHH:You’renotexactlysellingthisarrangementtome,CT.
CT?CarrotTop.Goddammit.
Sailor:Whatdoyouwant?
HHH:Whatareyouoffering?;)
Ithoughtaboutit.BelleandPersyweretalkingabouthowthey’ddomyhairandmakeupinthebackground.Yes.Havingthemtherewouldtakethepressureoff,andI’dhavesomeonetoholdmebackwhenIwasreadytopounceonHunterandkillhim.Plus,theylovedfancyevents.They’dhavesomuchfun.
Sailor:Youcanhaveonebeer.
HHH:I’msorry,doIlooktwelve?
Fairpoint,butIreallydidn’twanttobendtherulestoomuch.
Sailor:Myfriendsarehot.Hangingoutwiththemalonewillbeagoodtime.
HHH:Nothinglikeshootingtheshitwithhotgirlswhenyou’refuckingcelibate.Upyourgame,CT.
Sailor:Stopcallingmethat!
HHH:Stoplookinglikehim!
Sailor:Whydon’tyoujusttellmewhatyouwant?
HHH:Why,Ithoughtyou’dneverask.Akiss.
Sailor:Fromwho?
HHH:Aflame-hairedbanshee.
Therewasafluttery,warmthingstrugglingtobreakfreebehindmysternum,andIsuckedinabreath,feelingmyentirebodytingle.IhopeditwastheheartattackIclearlydeservedforconsideringkissinghim.
Sailor:Why?YoucallmeCarrotTopandthinkI’mobnoxious.
IfeltmyfingertipsgrowingsweatyasItyped.
HHH:CarrotTopisnotobnoxious.He’sactuallyprettyfunnyforathousandyearold.Yesorno?
Sailor:That’scheating.You’resupposedtobecelibate.
HHH:There’sanoceanbetweenkissingandfucking.Morespecifically,thevisualoffenseyourefertoasclothes.
Sailor:You’redisgusting.
HHH:Andyou’retempted.Youwanttotrymeforaride.Seewhatthefussisallabout.
Sailor:Don’tputwordsintomymouth.
Hunter:Whataboutotherthings?;)
Sailor:Youcan’tevenstandtolookatme.It’sbeenfivedayssinceyouacknowledgedmyexistence.
HHH:It’sbeenfivedayssinceIlookedinthemirror,oldsport.Shit’sbeenintense.YESORNO?
Sailor:When?
HHH:Whenevertherightmomentpresentsitself.Mycall.
Sailor:Notongue.
HHH:Yestongue,nofondling.
Sailor:YOUDON’TEVENLIKEME.
HHH:Jesus,whatdoeslikingyouhavetodowiththis?You’retheonlyavailablefemaleinmyradius.
Sailor:Thanks.
HHH:Welcs.
Sailor:Thekisswillmeannothing.
HHH:Should’vesaidthatbeforeIprintedoutourweddinginvitations.Wearadress.
“Wefoundit!”Persyshrieked,wavingoneofthegownsbyitshanger.
Ilookedup,mycheekssohot,IwassureIlookedlikeIwasgoingtoexplode.
“Whoa.”Emmabelledroppedaheapofclothestothefloor,hereyeszoninginonmyface.“Whydoyoulooklikeyoujustgotinvitedtoyourownfuneral,Sailor?”
“Because…”Itoreanother,finalpieceofdeadskinfromthecornerofmythumbwithmyteeth.“IthinkIjustdid.”BelleandPersywereonesquealawayfromleavingmecompletelydeafwhenItoldthemtheywerecomingtothefundraiserwithHunterandme.Whenthedayarrived,theyswungbymyplaceafewhoursbeforetheevent,lookinglikemoderngoddesses.Persywascladinaromanticwhitegown,whileBellerockedaleopardminidress.Theyshovedmeintomyowngown—anantiquepinkoff-shoulderdresswithasweetheartplunge.Thestrikingfloralappliquesatthefrontmiraculouslyhighlightedmynonexistentcurves,andPersyputmyhairupintoamessy-yet-sexychignon,withbitsofflyawaysframingmyface.Emmabelleappliedmymakeup,andwefoundoutnudecolorsandathicklayerofeyelinerworkedbestformypalecomplexionandredhair.BythetimeHunterwokeupandshovedhisAdonisformintoasuit,IlookedthebestIeverhad.
ItwasfunnyhowHunterbelievedhewasdumb,andIbelievedIwasunattractive—andthattheseoppositesourcesofinsecuritymadeusenemies.Idespisedhimforhislooks,andhethoughtIwasanunattractivebore.
Hestrodeoutofhisroom,cuffinghiscufflinkswithafrown,hisblackvelvetbowtiestillundone.Theminutehespottedthethreeofusinthelivingroom,Emmabelleleaningovermetoapplylipglosswhilewetookadvantageofthenaturalstreamofsunpouringfromtheglassedwall,hehalted.
“Holyshitballs.”Hewhistledlow.
Allthreeofusraisedourheadstolookathim.Persygaspedathisimperialbeauty.IcouldtellBellewasundressinghim,onearticleatatime,withdilatedpupils.
“Toldyoutheyweregorgeous.”Iclearedmythroat.
“You’retheoneI’mlookingat,CarrotTop.”Hestaredatme,makingeverythingelsearoundusmeltintoafuzzybackground.Hisgazeradiatedheatthatcouldperishme.Atthatmoment,Iwisheditwould.“Nooffense,girls.”
“Nonetaken.”Emmabellegrinnedconspiratorially.
“IwastalkingtoSailor’stits.”
Thatearnedhimawildlaughfrombothmyfriends.
Momentarilylosingtheabilitytoproducewords,IturnedmyheadbacktoBelle.Oureyesmet,andhersweretwinklingwithmischiefanddelight.
“Disneymovie,”shemouthed,standingtoherfullheight.“Maketheprincefallinlove.Seizethecastle.Becomehisqueen.”
She’dofficiallylosthermind.
“Youready?”Hunterasked,tyinghisbowtiewithonehandashewalkedtothekitchenandpouredhimselfsomecoffee.Iforgothe’dhadtheupbringingofadukeandknewhowtodoallsortsofthingsthatweren’tun-sexy,liketyinganecktiewithonehand.
“Yes!”PersyandBelleshrieked.
“CT?”Heglancedatmefromunderhislashes.HewasbackinhiselementafterbeingMIAallweek.
“Whenwillyoustopcallingmethat?”
“Hmm,thatwouldbenever.”
IletmyfriendsshakehandswithmyroommatewhileIregulatedmyheartrateanddranktwoglassesofwater,immediatelyregrettingthedecision.PeeinginthisdressseemedmoredifficultthansecuringaspotintheOlympics.
TheridetotheRooseveltHotelwasfullofchatter.BelleandPersyaskedHunterquestionsaboutlivinginCalifornia.Notonlydidheanswer,healsoseemedtotakegenuineinterestintheirstudiesandlives.Bythetimethelimoslidtoastopinfrontofthehotel,theonlypersonwhowasn’thavingaballwasme.
Thedriveropenedthedoorforus,andweallpouredout.Aslightlyhystericaleventcoordinatorinanall-blackoutfitmetusatthelobby,introducingherselftomyfriendsasPenny.
“I’mjustgoingtoborrowyouforasecondsowecangetyourticketsandputyournamesdownforthegrandprize.ThankyouforsupportingtheSchoolisCoolFoundation!”
Ididn’thavethehearttotellPennymyfriendshaddonatedzerodollarsforthecause,andfeltpanicclimbingupmythroatasIwatchedtheblondetwosomegallopingtothefarcornerofthelobbyalongwithher.
Hunterstoodbesideme,handsinpockets,hiseyesonthem.
“Youweren’texaggerating.Theyarehot.”
“Dropdead.”
“Don’ttemptmeaftertheweekI’vehad.”
“Howdidyoumanagetopayforthetickets?”Iwetmylips,knowingitwasbadformtoasksomeonetodrop10konyourfriends.Butitwasforcharity.AndtenthousanddollarswasnothingtoaguylikeGeraldFitzpatrick.
“ToldDaIowedmylocaldrugdealermoneyfromwayback.”
Ichokedonmyownsaliva.“Doyou?”
Hetorehiseyesfrommyfriendsandfrownedatme.“Fuck’sthematterwithyou?Idon’thaveadrugdealer.Oradrugproblem.Ijustneededtogetthisshitdone.Dawillneverpassupanopportunitytothinkbadlyofme.Ifhecouldfindthisimaginarydealerandconvincehimtolacemycocainewithanthrax,E.coli,andcyanide,hewould.”
“Can’tblamehim,”Ipiped.Butactually,Icould.Hunterwasn’tallthatbad.Hedefinitelywasn’tmalicious.
“Iwouldn’tdothat,ifIwereyou.”
“Dowhat?”
“Hatemewithsuchapassion.Yourwrathgivesmeasemi,andIstillhaveakissIcancollectwheneverIwishto.”
Aaaaandhe’sbacktobeingascumbag.
“Notwheneveryouwishto.Peoplecan’tseeusmakingout.”Iwipedmysweatyhandsonmydress,takinginthefancylobby.Themarbleflooringwasrosegold,thecurtainspalepink,andthefurnitureasleekchampagne.
Itwasn’tthatIhadnosexualexperience.I’dactuallyhadaboyfriendthroughjuniorandsenioryear.Beauwasafellowarcher.Weattendedthesamehighschoolandarcheryclub.Weneverwenttoanyparties,andIwouldn’treallyspeaktohimatschool.Hehadhisowncrewandneversoughtmeout,either.Butwe’dpracticetogethermanyafternoons.Sometimeswewenttohisplaceafterwards,watchedamovie,madeout,andlater,whenwegotolder,hadsex.Butweneverlabeledit,gaveeachotherpresents,orcelebratedValentine’sDay.
Evenourbreakupwasn’tanemotionalone.Onedayhetoldmehe’dreceivedascholarshiptoaCanadiancollegewithacompetitivearcheryprogram,andhe’dacceptedit.Iwasgenuinelyhappyforhim,whichIthoughtwasthepointoflikingsomeone.ButwhenIbrokethegoodnewstoMom,andsaidhowawesomeitwasforBeautomovetoCanada,shestaredatmelikeI’djustescapedamentalfacilityandforcedmeintoeatingicecreamandwatchingBlueValentinewithher.
“Makingoutnow?Thatescalatedquickly.Isitthesuit?”Hunter’seyesdriftedbacktoPersyandBelle.
Iwonderedhowmuchhe’dgivetoreplacemewithoneofthem.Alot,probably.Thatmademewanttothrowup.
“Thefactthatwehaven’tspokeninalmostaweekhelped.”IrummagedintheblackvelvetpurseI’dborrowedfromEmmabelle,lookingfornothinginparticularandpretendingtobebusy.
“Thatkissbetterbeworthtengrand.”Hetsked
“Nokissisworththatmuch.”Iscoffed,clickingthepurseshut.Heturnedtolookatme,coolandcollected.
“Obviouslyyou’veneverbeenkissedbyaFitzpatrick.”
“Haveyou?”Ichallenged,cockingabrow.“Wasityourbrotherorsister?I’mhopingyourbrother.Ilovemesomemale-on-maleaction.”
Hethrewhisheadbackandlaughedsowildly,theechoofhisvoicebouncedoffthewalls.Aherdofpeoplewalkedtowardus.Irecognizedthemonsight:theFitzpatricks.
Hisdadwastallandheavy,hismotherlight-featured.Hisolderbrotherlookedlikeawickedlyhandsomevillain,andhissister,incontrast,aperfectlydemureSnowWhite.Unlikehertwobrothers,Aisling’shairwasn’tfair.Itwasravenblack,butthatonlyhighlightedhersparklingbluebelleyes.Theywereallimpeccablydressed,andsaveforAisling,alllookedtobeindifferentlevelsofasourmood.
Istiffenedatthesightofthemapproachingus.Iconsideredturningaroundandfleeing.Huntermust’vesensedthat,becauseoutofnowhere,hishandfoundthesmallofmyback.Itbarelyflutteredaroundthearea,butstillsupportedme,somehow.
“Deepbreath,”hewhispered,hisvoicecalm.“Remember,they’rejustpeople.Theybreathe.Theyeat.Theyfart—loudly,sometimes—andtoansweryourquestion,yes,CillianandIFrenchkissallthetime,andheusesanexcessiveamountoftongue.”
Nowitwasmyturntostifleagiggle.
WhenHunter’sfamilystoppedinfrontofus,Huntermadearoundofintroductions,eventhoughwe’dalreadymet.
“Sailor,thisismyfather,Gerald.”Hemotionedtohisdad.
Ishookhisfirm,dryhand.“Pleasuretomeetyouagain.”Itriedtomusteragenuinesmile.
“Jury’sstilloutonwhetherIcansaythesameaboutyou,”hisfathergrumbled,winningawarningelbowfromhiswife.“Howhasmysonbeenthusfar?Betterthanhewasatwork,Ihope.”
“Impeccablybehaved,”Ishotback,asthepressurefromHunter’shandonmybackgrew.Itwasthetruth.HewasonthestraightandnarrowintheraretimesI’dseenhim.
“Nicetoseeyouagain.”Janeclaspedmyhandinbothofhers,smilingtiredly.Shealwayslookedsad.“Thankyousomuchfordoingthis.”
“Mom,”Huntergroaned.
Ilaughed.“Itisentirelymypleasure,Mrs.Fitzpatrick.”
WhenCillianclaspedhiscallusedhandaroundmine,Ilookedupandmyheartmissedabeat.Hisbeautywasascruelashisexpression.Ididn’tremembereverseeingsomeonesobrutallyindifferent,myownfatherincluded.Forallhissociopathictendencies,TroyBrennanadoredmymom,Sam,andme.CillianFitzpatricklookedlikenothingcouldgettohim,tanksandbombsincluded.
“MissBrennan,whathaveyougottenyourselfinto?”hesneered,baringhisperfectteeth.
Igatheredhehadverylittlefaithinthisarrangement.Refrainingfromkickinghisballsinpublic,andfeelingthereassuringpressureofHunter’spalm,Igrinned.“Areyouaskingorinsinuatingsomething?”
Hechuckled,likeIwasanadorabletoddlerrepeatingabadword.“Sheanswers.Nicetouch.You’realreadyexhibitingmorepersonalitythanmybrotherhasshowninhisentirenineteenyears.”
“ShehasmorepersonalitythanyoucanfindinallyourEuropean-heiressflingscombined,”Huntercountered.“Andbeingadickdoesn’tcountforpersonality.It’samuscle.Sotechnically,you’reameathead.”
“Hunter!Cillian!”Theirmothergasped,buttherewasnorealforceorauthorityinhervoice.
MymomusedtochaseSamandmedowntheparkwhenwemisbehaved,andwestillhadastepinthepenthousewecouldn’tlookatbecauseitremindedusofthelengthytimeoutswe’dspentonitasanaughtyspot.Shelovedusendlessly,butwhenshechided,welistened.InoticedthatGeraldwatchedthisexchangewithasuppressedsmile,likehewasenjoyingtheturnofevents.
ThelastpersonIwasintroducedtowasAisling,whomIkindofrememberedanyway.SheseemedliketheonlynicepersonintheirclanwhenIwasakid.
“Hi.”Ithrustmyhandinherdirection.“I’mSailor.”
“Iknow.”Sheblushed,lookingdownandtakingmyhand.“You’refriendswiththePenrosesisters,right?”
“Right!”Icouldfeelmyeyeslightingup.“They’reherewithme,actually.Doyouknowthem?”
IknewAislingwasayearyoungerthanme,seventeen.Shewenttoaprivateschooloutsidethecity.WordaroundBostonwasthattheFitzpatrickcouplehadreallywantedagirlafterCillian,andwhenHunterwasborn,hismothertriedtoconceiveassoonasshecouldtogetherpreciousdaughter.
Aislingbowedherheadshyly.“Kindof.Iknowthethreeofyouhelpedshovelsnowfromtheentrancesofthatseniorhousingcomplexlastwinterandsavedsomeone’slife.Itwasalloverthelocalnews.Ithoughtitwasreallycool.”Sheturnedcompletelyscarlet.
IcouldfeelHunter’sgazedartingtomeinsurprise.
“Youdidthat?”heasked.
“Somepeoplegivebacktothecommunity,ceannbeag,believeitornot,”saidGerald.
ThemeninHunter’sfamilywerereallystartingtograteonmynerves.
“Youcanhangoutwithus,ifyouwant,”IofferedtoAisling,whotooktheopportunitytolookmeintheeyeforthefirsttime.Shetouchedhercheek.
“Oh,Iwouldn’twanttobuttintoyourevening…”
“Nonsense!”Iallbutpulledherbythehand.“Trustme,everythingismorebearablewiththerightpeoplearound.”MyeyesdartedpointedlybetweenCillianandherfather.
IwassureeveryoneattheRooseveltHotelcouldhearourgigglesasthetwoofusrantomyfriends,arminarm,escapingthemenoftheFitzpatrickfamily,andpoorJane,whoseeyesIcouldfeelonourbacks.
“Traitor,”IheardHuntermumblingbehindme,andIlaughedsadly,knowinghewasgoingtobetraymeaswell.
Withaprettier,moresuitablegirl.
Theeventstartedoutsmoothlyenough.
Belle,Persy,Aisling,andItookourplatesandateinthecorneroftheroom,talkinganimatedly.First,aboutLauraHartfield,agirlwhousedtogotoschoolwithPersy,Belle,andmeandwasattheevent.Shewastwenty-oneandcurrentlydrapedonthearmofafifty-something,overweightbusinessman,adiamondthesizeofmyfisttwinklingfromherfinger.
“Now,Kanyeain’tsayingsheagold-digger.”Belle’scat-likeeyesfollowedtheirmovementsthroughslitsofdisapproval.“Butsheain’tmessingwithnobroke.”
“Shecouldlovehim,”Ipointedout.
PersyandIwerealwaysthetwotocalmthegossipmonsterdownwhenBellespokehermindaboutotherpeople.TheonlyfiltersBellewasfamiliarwithwereInstagram-related,evenifmosttimesshewasdead-on.
“Howconvenientofhertofallinlovewithamiddle-agedgazillionairewhohasnohair,butpossessesteeththesizeofbricks,fourchins,andisrumoredtohavegivenhisex-wifethreeestatesandahundredmillinadivorcesettlement,”Emmabellechirped.
Allthreeofusturnedourheadstoglareatherinalarm.
“C’mon.”Bellelaughed,shakingherhead.“Theonlywayshe’sgettingoffthesedaysiswithVinnietheVibrator.”
“That’ssad.I’dnevermarrysomeoneformoney,”Aislingmused,takingsmallbitesfromherminiquiche.
“That’sbecauseyouhavetoomuchofit,”Persyblurted,blushingimmediatelyunderhermakeup.
Emmabelleshookherhead.“No.I’llnevermarryformoney,either,andIworkweekendshiftsatForever21andrummageourneighbors’recyclingcansforemptybottlestomakeanextrabuck.”
“Meeither,never.”Persysmoothedherdressoverherthighs.
Alleyesdartedtome.Icontinuedpickingatmysautéedbroccolimeticulously,wishingforabetterfoodchoice.Fora5kmeal,theysuredidn’tbringtheirA-gameinthekitchen.Despitemyscrawniness,Icaredaboutfood.
Finally,Bellepokedmeintheribs.“Well?”
“What?”Ifrowned.
“Ifyouhaven’tnoticed,there’saspontaneouspactgoingonoverhereamongthefourofus:neverbeliketheLauraHartfieldsoftheworld;onlybewithguysforlove,andmakesureweallkeepourpromise.Areyouin,orareyouout?”
Theprospectofbeingwithanyone,letaloneforsomethingmaterialistic,seemedaslikelyaslivingonMars.
“Yeah.”Ithrewabroccoliintomymouth,chewingwithouttastingit.“Ofcourse.I’dneverbewithsomeoneforanythingotherthanlove.”
“Let’sshakeonit,then.”Persyreachedherhandtothecenterofthetable.Weallplacedourhandsonhers.Itwassuperawkward,butinafunnykindofway.
“Tobeingawesome,”Persyexclaimed.
“Andreal,”Aislingaddedquietly.
“AndneversettlingforanassholetogetapairofLouboutinsyoucangetatthebutchershop.”Bellelaughedthroatily.
Aislingpeeredbetweenuswithconfusionatthelaststatement.Whenourmirthdied,theyshotmeanexpectantlook,waitingformetothrowmytwocentsintothepact.
IthoughtaboutsomethingIwanted—onethingIwishedformytruelovetohave.
“Tobeingwithsomeonewholovesyoujustthewayyouare,andviceversa.”
Wesqueezedourhandstogether.Itfeltliketheendofsomething.
Itfeltlikeanewbeginning,too.
Afterthepact,Aislingconfessedthatshehadveryfewfriendsatherall-girlsschool,andshewashappytograduateafterthisyearandmovesomewherenew.
BellemadeanexecutivedecisiontoinvitehertoourweeklyFriday-nighthangouts,aninvitationbothPersyandIwerehappytoextend.
WheneverIglancedattheFitzpatricks’table,itwasjam-packedwithvisitorscomingtocongratulateandshakeGerald’sandCillian’shands.Aislingsaiditwasaboutanewrefinerythey’dopenedinMaine.Sheaddedthatithadbeengivingherfatheraheadacheandnotgoingasplanned.
Hunterwasperpetuallyignored.Hepickedathisfoodandcheckedhisphone.Wheneverhismothertriedtotalktohim,heeitherpretendednottohearherorofferedheraone-wordanswer.Itriedtokeepmyguilttoaminimumlevelandavoidedtextinghim.Herewasaguywho’dsaidhewantedtobedmejustbecauseIwastheonlywomanaroundhecouldgethishandson,andIstillfeltbadforhim.
Iexcusedmyselftogototherestroom.IttookmetenminutestopushallmyskirtsupmywaistbeforeIpeed.AsIrearrangedtheheapsoffabricaroundme,Iheardvoicesoutsidemycubicle.
“…camewithTroyandSparrowBrennan’sdaughter.Sally?Stephanie?SomethingwithanS.”Onewomancluckedhertongue.
“Sailor.Herbrotherishot,though.”Anotherlaughed.
“Adoptivebrother,andheistoomuchofadaredevil.Rich,handsome,butbadpedigree.No,thankyou.”
“Isawheradonabusdowntown.Youthinkthey’retogether?”
“SailorandHunter?Noway.Heisbasicallysexpersonified,andsheis…well,agreatadforcontraceptives.”
Laughter.Lotsandlotsoflaughter.
“Mousy,”thefirstoneagreed.“Buttheycameintogether,andthere’sarumorgoingaroundthattheylivetogether.”
“Maybehelostabet,”thesecondwomantooted,delvingthroughabagofmakeupbythesoundofit.
“Maybehe’srunningoutofwomentosleepwith,”theothercackled.
“Shebetterenjoyitwhileitlasts.Hegoesthroughthemfast.Idoubtshe’llkeephiminterested.”
“Maybehe’llleaveherwithasouvenir.Didyouseehissextape?H-a-w-t.”
Iflushedthetoiletandstompedoutofthecubiclenoisily.IofferedthemaserenesmileasIsquirtedsoapintomyhand,catchingtheirhorrifiedgazesinthemirrorwhentheyrealizedwhoIwas.Theylookedtobeintheirmid-twenties,bothwearingtight,revealingdressesandtheshockedfacialexpressionsofhorrifiedkoalas.
“I’msogladyouladiesaren’tinterestedinSam,becauseknowingmybrother,he’dneverlookatyoutwice.AsforHunter,he’stoogoodforyou,too.ButI’llbesuretobringhimuptospeedregardingeverythingyoudiscussedtoday.Andhisbrother,Cillian,too.”
“Wait,youknowCillian?”theonewiththefaketitsasked.
Inodded.“Absolutely.Wewerejustdiscussingthemeritsofwomenwithnaturalbreastswhostayoutofgossip.Well,havefun!”
Iturnedaroundandmarchedawayonshakylegs.
Tenminutesaftertherestroomincident,whichIkeptfrommyfriendsbecausetherewasn’tanyneedtorehashmyhumiliation,thebandbegantoplay,startingwith“TwistandShout.”
Bellerantothedancefloorlikeherbuttwasonfire.Shedidn’tknowhowtotwist.Butlackofknowledgeneverstoppedmybestfriendfromtryingsomethingnew.Ilovedthatabouther.Italwaysmadeherthemostinterestingpersonintheroom.
PersyandAislingwerelockedinaheatedconversationaboutrealityTVshowsI’dneverheardofwhileIfedmyinnerself-destructivegremlinbyscrollingthroughmyphone,readinganarticleaboutLanaAlder,who’dapparentlygottenasmallpartinanotherHollywoodfilm.Itookadeepbreath,tryingtocontrolthejealousyexpandinginmychestlikeaballoonasIwatchedpicturesofheronset.Ididn’tknowhowshedidit,howshestayedfocusedonthecraftwhiletraveling,interviewing,launchingsportswearlines,andmakingmovies.
Ahandappearedinmyvision,twofingerssnappingtogethertogetmyattention.Ilookedupfrommyphonescreen.
Hunter.
“Dancewithme,CT.”
“Why?”Iasked,blinkingathiminconfusion.Ihadtwoleftlegsandthecoordinationofroadkill.Icouldn’tdanceifmylifedependedonit.I’dtrieddancingattheonlypartyI’devergoneto—sophomoreyear—andwassubjectedtosuchthoroughhumiliation.Peopletookvideosofmedancingandforwardedittohalfmyschool.SaggySailor,they’dgraffiti-edonmylocker.Apparently,mybacklookedhunchedanddroopywhenIdanced.
“Because…”Hetiltedhischindown,hisvoicelow,smoldering.“You’reobviouslybored,andmyfamilyiswatchingus,andI’mpartialtofondlingyou.”
“It’sthedress,”Imuttered.
“I’dactuallypreferfondlingyououtofit.”
Islicedmygazesideways,noticingthatAislingandPersyhadn’tpickeduponmyexchangewithhim.Theywerenowwatchingavideo,probablyoftherealityshowtheywerearguingabout.EventhoughHunterwasjustafterafriendlydancetoshowhisfamilyweweregettingalong,Icouldn’tungluemybuttfrommychair.
“Nofondling.”Icrossedmyarmsovermychest,buyingtime.
“Nopromises.Getup.”
“Didyoutellanyonewelivetogether?”Iaccused,myeyesnarrowingintoslits.
Hestaredatme,wide-eyed,mouthparted.“Negatory.”
“Didyoutellanyoneweweredating?”
“Thisisthelamesttwenty-questionsgameI’veeverparticipatedin.No.”
“Well,peoplearetalkingaboutus.”
“That’swhatpeopledo.Theyfilltheairwithuselesswordstoentertaineachother.It’scalledgossip,anditsucksalltheassesintheworld.Doesn’tmeanitwasme.Ourbuildingemploysmorethanahundredpeople.Allofthemworkformyfather.Thatmeanshe’sspreadingwhateverthehellhewantstospread.”
“PeoplearegoingtothinkI’myour…your…”Icouldn’tsayit.Itsoundedwrongandfilthy,eveninmyhead.
“Fuckbuddy?”heprovidedwithaneasysmirk,probablyenjoyingwatchingmechangecolorsinmyseatlikeabillboardsign.
Irolledmyeyes.“Yes.”
“You’rewelcome.Yourshareswillskyrocketafteroursixmonthsareup.Now,let’sdance.”
Ilookedaroundus,feelingmyforeheaddampening,myheartrateaccelerating.Ididn’twanttogetupandshowhimwhatahorrificdancerIwas.Hunterstretchedhisopenpalminmydirection,leavingmenochoicebuttoacceptit.
Andstill,Ididn’t.
“AmIgoingtostandherewaitingforlong?Askingforafriendcalledmyego,”henoted.
Ifeltmythroatbobbing,butcouldn’tswallowmyanxiety.
SaggySailorpairedwithBoston’smosteligiblebillionaire.
Mostdays,Icouldpretendwewerejusttworandomssharingaspace.Nowthatitwasclearwe’darrivedtogether,Ifelteverybodyoglingme,tryingtofindoutwhatHuntersawinme.
Nothing,Iwantedtoscreamatthem.Heseesnothing,becausethereisnothing.Hisfatheristwistinghisarm.
“Sailor?”Hunterfrowned,obviouslynolongeramusedbymystalling.
Imumbledsomethingunderneathmybreath.
“Comeagain?”heasked.
Irepeatedmyself,thistimeabreathlouder.
“Can’thearyou.”
“Ican’tdance!”Ithrewmyarmsintheair,frustrated.Iblushedsohardmyscalpburned.Thelivebandswallowedmyyelp,butIstillwantedtodie.“Idon’tgotoparties.Idon’tmingle.Idon’tdance.Idon’tknowhowto…howto…”
“Beanormalhuman?”Hunteraskedunhelpfully.
Ishothimadirtylook.Helaughed,takingbothmyhandsandyankingmeup.Ipracticallydraggedmyheelsashepulledmetothedancefloorbyforce.
Mylevelofmortificationseemedforeign,yetsomehowfamiliar.Ihatedmyselfforneverattendinganyparties,fornotbeingpreparedforthis,eventhoughIwasonlypartlytoblame.Notmanypeoplewantedtohangoutwiththeshy,awkwarddaughteroftheguywhoallegedlydidthedirtyworkofBoston’selite.AttheraretimesIwasinvitedtopartiesaftertheSaggySailorordeal,Ialwayspassed.ItwasguyslikeHunterwhoscaredmethemost—thebeautiful,popular,athleticallyaccomplishedcreatureswholookeddownonme.Iknewtheywerewaitingfortheslightestsignofweaknesstoleapandtearmetoshreds.
Theminutewegottothedancefloor,Iturnedaroundandmadearunfortheentrance—literallydashedforthedoor.Notmymostmaturemoment,granted,butescapingthesituationtrumpedallelse.BeforeIcouldbuildmomentum,Hunterscoopedmebymywaist,likeIwasatoddler,andplacedmerightinfrontofhim.
“Sailor,”hesaidgravely,buttherewasahintofhumorthere,too.
“Letmego!Idon’twanttodance.Itwasn’tapartofouragreement.”
Myvisionblurredattheedges,andIrealizedIwasinarealstateofpanic.I’djustruinedmyentirebadassfa?adewithhistrashedroom,myarchery…everything.WherewereBelleandPersy?Whatwashappening?Whycouldn’tIstopshaking?
Aquickglancearoundconfirmedmyworstfear.Mostpeoplewhosatattheirtablesorswayedonthedancefloorwereglancingatuscuriously,whisperingtoeachotherabouttheunfoldingdramaI’dcreated.Iwasbecomingthemainattraction.
“Sailor,”Hunterrepeated,poised,hishandcircledaroundmyarm.Iwastinyandgauntagainsthistall,muscularframe.Insignificantineverysenseoftheword.
“Letgoofme!”
“Sailor.”
“What,fortheloveofeverythingholy?”Ipressedmyfiststomyeyesockets.Iwasnevergoingtobeabletolookhimagain.Andhewasdefinitelynotgoingtocashinonthatkiss.
“Listen.It’saslowsong.”Hehookedhisfingersatthenapeofmyneck,pressinghisthumbsjustbelowmyeyes,peelingmyhandsaway.HeheldmelikeIwasaporcelaindoll.Fragileandbeautifulandrare.
“Takeadeepbreath,openyoureyes,andlookatme,”hepurred,histonesteady,almostlulling.
Somehow,Iobliged.Whenmyeyesflutteredopen,Iwasmomentarilytakenabackbyhowsympatheticandsweethelooked,frowningdownatme,hisbrilliantgray-bluesstudyingme.
“Thispartiscrucial,solistencarefully:nobodyknowshowtodanceunlessit’sprofessionally.Nobody.ButespeciallywhitepeoplefromBoston.Wearenotoriouslybadatdancing.IftherewereRazzieAwardsfordancing,mybathroomwouldbefullofstatues.”
Ibitmylip,stiflingagiggle.“Nonsense.Yougotolotsofparties.”
“DancingisnotmypreferredcardiowhenIattendthem,trustme.”
Ichuckledbitterly.Iglancedaround,oratleasttriedto,buthekeptmyheadscrewedinplace,palmingbothmycheeks.
“Now,I’mgoingtoputmyhandsonyourwaist,andyouaregoingtonotfreakout.Thenyou’regoingtowrapyourarmsaroundmyshoulders,andyouarestillnotgoingtofreakout.Thenwearegoingtoswaylikedrunkbabieswhojustlearnedhowtowalk,andeventhen—youwillnotfreakout.That’sallthereistodancing.Uptothechallenge,CT?”
Inodded,swallowingtokeepmygroggythroatwet.Iloopedmyhandsoverhisshoulders.Hishandswrappedaroundmywaist,andwestartedmoving.
Iheldhimlikehewasmadeofglass.
HeheldmelikeIwasmadeofclouds.
Myheartratesubsided,andIinhaled,tryingnottothinkaboutwhatanidiotI’dmadeofmyselfinthelasttenminutes.
Huntermust’veknownIwasstillgatheringmywits,becausehekeptquiet.Ipeekedaroundandsawothercouplesdancing,gettingbacktotheirbusiness.Geraldwasseatedathistable,oblivioustotheminidrama,thankGod.Bellewasinthefarcorneroftheroominthearmsofahandsomestrangerinaburgundysuit.Cillianwasdancingwithatallbrunettenexttothem,butwasscowlingdirectlyatEmmabelle.Shewaslaughingloudly,makingconversation.Ibetthecoldfishdidn’tlikethecommotionshebroughtwithheronebit.
AislingandPersephonewerestilltalkingatourtable.
Thetunedriftedintomyears,andIrecognizedthesong.Itwasanacousticversionof“Truly,Madly,Deeply”bySavageGarden.
Hunterdidn’taddressmymeltdown.Iwonderedhowmanypeoplehadseenmetryingtoescapehisgrasp,butdidn’task.
“So…ceannbeag?”Itiltedmyheadsideways.
“ItmeanslittleoneinGaelic.”
“Cute.”
“Youmeancondescending,”hecountered.“Itis.”
“DoyouspeakGaelic?”Iknewitwasn’tthemostusefuloflanguages,butrichpeopleknewalotofthingsothersdidn’t.Polo,forinstance.Ortyingabowtiewithonehand.EventhoughIwasIrishthroughandthrough,myIrishnesswaslimitedtoburninginsteadoftanning,gettingfreckledwhenevertherewasahintofsunout,andobsessingoverfolklore.
Huntergavemehalfanod.“Da’sfanaticaboutit.Itwasabitchtolearn.”
“Doyourealizethelimitlessopportunitiesinknowingthislanguage?”Itriedtoregainsomeofmyconfidence,musteringasmile.
“Notreally,”hesaiddryly,hiseyesdartingtomylips.“Enlightenme.”
“Youcancallmeanythingyouwant,andIwon’tknowthemeaningofit,”Iallbutexclaimed.“CarrotTopisnothing.Thinkoutsidethebox,prettyboy.Letyourimaginationroamfree.”
“SoyouadmitthatI’mhandsome.”
“Idon’tthinkanyoneonthiscontinentcandisputethat,”Igrumbled.
“PrettysureI’mhotshitinAustralia,too.”
Ilaughed.Hewasn’twrong.“No.Youarevirtuallyperfect,fromtheoutside.Butyourinsidemakesyouanendangeredspecies.Totallymurder-able.”
Heexaminedmequietly,shakinghisheadandgrinning.
“Aingealdian,”hesaid.“Well,forthemostpart.”
“Doesthatmeancrazybitch?”Iscrewedmynose,realizingtoolatethatIwastryingtobeadorable,andwonderingwhatthehellhadcomeoverme.Inevertriedtobeendearing,especiallywhereguyswereconcerned.IalwaystriedtomakesureIcameofflikeIcouldn’tcarelessaboutthem.
“Ifonly,”heanswered,stillstaringatmylips.
“What,then?”Ifilledthespacebetweenuswithwordssohewouldn’tgetanyideas.Wecouldn’tbeseenkissing.Infact,Ihadtoshowhisfatherwewerefriendly,butnotovertlyso.
Hefrowned.“No.YourassisgonnaGoogleTranslateit.”
“You’reimpossible.”Ifoughtasmile,bitingdownonmylip.
“Impossible?No.Extremelyhard?Always.”Henarrowedhiseyes,buttookhalfastepbacksoIcouldn’ttellifhewasspeakingthetruth.
Iquieted,thinkingabouthowhe’dbeenawesomeduringmypublicmeltdown.Ifonlyhewasn’tasex-crazed,billionairebrat,wewouldn’twanttokilleachother.
“WhydidtheykickyououtofthatBritishschool?”Iwhispered.
Iwonderedwhatitfeltliketobehim,tobarelyknowthecityyoulivedin,yetknoweverybodyinBostonknewyourbusiness.
“Sextape.”
“Thatyoung?”Inearlyshrieked.Iknewhe’dstarredinoneasecondago.IwantedtobarfeverytimeIthoughtaboutit.I’dpromisedhimIwouldn’tGooglehim,though,andIhadn’t.
“Kidding.Igotexpelledforblowingupatreewithgunpowder,believeitornot.”
“Ichoosenot,”Isaid,stiflinganotherlaugh.SomehowIcouldn’timaginethehedonisticdevilinfrontofmedoingsomethingsowildlycreative.
“You’dberight,too.Itwasmyfriend,Percy,whodidit.HewasnamedafterthepoetPercyByssheShelley,whoactuallydidgetkickedoutofschoolforthatreason.Helostabet.Butwhenitcamedowntoowninguptoit,IknewPercywasgoingtogetroyallyscrewedifhegottheboot.Thatboardingschoolwastheonlythinghisrichgrandparentshadagreedtopayfor.Hisdadlosttheirfamilymoneygambling.”
Huntertookmyhand,lacedhisfingersthroughmine,andgavemealittletwirl.Mybodyswooshedalongwiththemovementinstinctively.IwatchedtheroomspinunderHunter’sarmandfelttheskirtsofmydressrustlingagainstthefloor.Heloweredmyupperbodylikeinthemovies,anditoccurredtomethatpeoplewerewatchingusagain,butforthelifeofme,Icouldn’tgiveadamn.
“Yougotkickedoutforafriend?”Myeyesflared.“Why?”
Whenmybackwaslevelwiththefloor,heheldmethereforhalfasecond,hisfaceclosetomine.“Youknowwhy.You’rejustasloyal.”
Hewhiskedmebackup,andwebegantoswayagain.Iclungtohimmoretightlythanbefore.Hefeltlikeironandsteelbeneathmyfingertips.Iwantedtoescapehistouchandleanclosertohischestatthesametime.
“Whydidyounevertellyoufather?”
“Becausehewouldn’thavebelievedme.Andifhehad,it’dserveasmoreprooftohimthatIamstupiderthanacanofsweetcorn.”
Hunter’slipsbrushedagainstmyear,thetipofhiselegantnoseinmyhair.Myheartwasinmythroat.IwantedtomarchovertoGeraldFitzpatrickandfliphisfullplatealldownhissuitformakinghissonbelievehewasanythingshortofwonderful.
“Sailor?”Hunterasked.
“Yeah?”Iclearedmythroat.
“Guesswhat?”Hebreathedinmyface.Ifonlyhedidn’tsmellashehad—ofcinnamonandmaleandmyfull-blowndemise.“You’redancing.”Moodsong:“UnderthePressure”byTheWaronDrugs.
DidIcomefromwatchingDawatchingmespinningSailoronthedancefloor,whisperingsweetnothingsinherear,nuzzlingherhairline?
No,Ididnot.
WasIclosetocoming,though?
…ain’tgonnalie,myballsdidtingle.
Shewassurprisinglycompliantforagirlwhopossessedtheetiquetteandcordialityofarabidcapybara(basicallyagiantrat—lookitup.Realnastypetchoice).
Maybesheexhaustedherselfmid-meltdown.Likewhentoddlersfallasleepintheheightoftheirtantrum.FuckknowsshelookedlikeshewasabouttooffherselfwhenItriedtodraghertothedancefloor.
Butitwasn’tlikeIhadmanyoptionstochoosefrominthecamaraderiedepartment.
DaandCillianignoredmyexistence,Momwasashittyconversationalist,andAislingscrewedoffwithhernewfriendstoformafuckinggirlbandorwhatever.Chasingtailwasnotinthecardsforme.Ihadzerofriendshere.HittingupVaughnandKnightonthephoneseveraltimesadaywasn’tgoingtocutitanymore.
IwantedtoshowDaIwasplayingnicewiththeguarddoghe’dappointedforme.ThefactitlookedlikeIwasgoingtoplowintoherlaterthateveningsweetenedthedeal,especiallybecausehecouldneveraskherifwefucked.
See,Da?Notasbrainlessasyouthink.
Whenthefundraiserended,andSailorkissedandhuggedherfriendsgoodbye(whydidchicksdothat?Theyweregoingtoseeeachotherthenextgoddamnday,inallprobability),IshovedherintothelimoandspentthetimescrollingthroughpicturesofhotgirlsI’dfucked.Ineededtoclearmyhead.Also,toemptymydick.Ourlittledancehadgivenmeanunexpectedhard-on.True,shewasn’tCandiceSwanepoel,butdamn,didsherockthatdresslikenobody’sbusiness.
Sailorwassittingontheendofthecrèmeleatherseat,asfarawayfrommeashumanlypossible,watchingthecitylightsflickeringtotheirslow,midnightdeath.Peoplescurriedintotheirhomeslikemice.
“Thankyou,”hervoicetraveledbetweenus,hoarseandsmoky.
“Bet,”Imumbled,mythumbslidingoverthescreen.Kardashianonacracker,ImissedCali.Ihadtoremindmyselfthiswasgoingtobeoverinlessthansixmonths.IwasgoingtomakeDagivemethedopeapartment,makesurethedoordidn’thitSailor’sflatassonherwayout,andfuckuntilIfellintoacoma.
“Aren’tyougoingtoaskwhatfor?”shechallengedinhersmart-assvoice.
Fuck.Evenwhenshelookedgood(andsheactuallydidlookgoodinthatdresswithherhairup),shejusthadtoruinitbybeingso…herself
Ilookedupfrommyphoneunenthusiastically.“Mybad.Whatfor?”
“ManagingthesituationwhenIfreakedoutearlier…”Shetrailedoffandfrownedatmyhand.Ittookmeasecondtorealizewhyshewasangryagain.MyscreenwasstuckonathirsttrapofAlicesqueezinghertitstogetherandwinkingatthecamerawithacherryinhermouth,wearingnothingbutatiny,sunflower-patternedbikini.
“Whoisthis?”sheasked.
Iwasn’tkeenonairingmyshit,andInevertoldpeoplewhoIfucked,howmanytimes,where,andwhen.Itseemedtacky—moresowhenitwastoSailor,whowasprobablymorevirginalthanthepunchinapre-Kafter-schooldance.
“AchickIwenttoschoolwith.”
“Nice,”shesaid,inthewaygirlsliltedthewordwhenthingswereanythingbutnice.
Sheturnedbacktothewindow.IturnedbacktoimaginingmyselffuckingAlice’stits.
Whenwegothome,Sailordashedstraighttoherroom,slammingthedoorwithahuff.AsImademywaytomine,Iheardhersaying“stupid,stupid,stupid,”thumpingherheadagainstthewall.Figuredshewasfeelingbadaboutthatlittlemeltdownearlier.
IclosedmybedroomdoorandshotAliceatext.
Hunter:Sendn00dz.
IfolloweditupwithaGIFofadoghumpingapillow.Courtinginthetwenty-firstcenturywastheshit.
Insteadofsmartingoff,orbreakingdown,orgenerallybeingamess—cough,Sailor,cough—Alicerepliedwithapictureofherfromtheneckdownspreadeagleonthebed,wearingnothingbutaneonpinkthong.Ishimmiedoutofmycigarpants.I’dneverreallystoppedbeinghardsinceIdancedwithSailor.
Hunter:Nowavideoofyoutouchingyourself.
Alice:Areusure?HeardDaddygotyouonlockdown.
Hunter:Thisisnotbreakingtherules.Justtiltingthemalittle.Totheright.;)
Alice:LOLperv.Theysayyoumovedinwithsomeone.Agirl…
Hunter:Notwhatyouthink.
Alice:Idon’tthinkanything.
Ain’tthatthetruth,baby.
IjerkedofftwicethatnighttounholyvideosofAlice.
WhenIwokeup,Sailorwasgone.
CarrotTopdidn’tbothercominghomeonSunday.NotthatIcared,butitwasalmosttauntingtohavethehuge-assapartmentalltomyselfwithoutbeingabletoputittogooduse.Myfather’sso-calledbodyguards/privateinvestigatorswereunderthebuilding,andbasedonthewayhalfthegoddamnworldalreadyknewIwaslivingwithSailor,Igatheredthestaffinthepremisesalsorantheirmouths.
Ispentthetimestudyingstatisticsandotherkill-me-nowbusiness-managementsubjects.I’dbarelyattendedmyeveningclassesbecauseI’dbeenintheofficealldayeverydaylastweek—fetchingcoffee,answeringspontaneousquizzesaboutthecompany’shistorymybrotherandfatherthrewatme,andgenerallybeingthedesignatedofficebitch.
WhenSailorfailedtoshowherfacebydinnertime,Ihitthebuildinggymtoletoffsomesteam.Yesterdayatthefundraiser,MomhadsuggestedIgobacktoplayingpoloinoneofherattemptstostrikeupaconversation.I’dsuggestedshemindherownbusiness.Ididn’twanttoplaysports.Ididn’twanttodoanything
Andthereinlaytheproblem.Ihadzeroambitionwhenitdidn’tinvolvefuckingandpartying.Ifelthollowinside,thekindofemptythatgnawedattheedgesofmyflesh,threateningtodevourtherestofme.
Iheardthefrontdoortotheapartmentopenaroundmidnight.Iwasinmyroom,mydoorajar,readingsomebullshittextbook.Tomysurprise,IfelttoobutthurttoaskCarrotTopwhereshe’dbeen.Iheardhershufflingaroundthekitchen,pouringherselfaglassofwaterandrummaginginthefridge.Shefixedherselfsomethingtoeat.Shehadarealgoodhandwhenitcametofood.Ismelledfreshbread,peanutbutter,Nutella,androastednuts.ShewaseitherFaceTimingherfamilyorhadputthemonspeaker.Herbrotheranddadbickeredaboutwhogottotakeherforlunchthenextday,sincetheyweregoingtobeindifferentpartsofthecity.Ihatedhersurprisinglyfunctionalfamily.
Tenminuteslater,sheturnedoffthelightsandshutherbedroomdoor,lockingitforgoodmeasure.
HHH:Noneedtolockyourdoor.Notgonnasneakinonyou.
HHH:?
HHH:Stillgivingmethesilenttreatmenttopunishmeforabsolutelyfuckingnothing?
HHH:Gotohell,CT.
ItwasagrayMondaymorning,whichbroughtwithittheurgetohurlmyselfunderabus.
Istartedthedaybyhelpingthecompany’sexecutiveaccountanttogothroughthequarterlynumbers.AfterbeingholedupforfourhoursinadungeonwithExcelsheetsandmiddle-agedmenwhosmelledlikeunderwearcrust,coffee,anddiabetes,Itookmylunchwhilestudyinginthekitchenette,enjoyingthebackgroundnoiseofmyfathershriekingatpeopleabouttherefinery,whichwasapparentlyatashutdownstatebecauseofsomeminorexplosion.AfterIfinished,Iwasheadingdowntothecompliancedepartmenttohelpoutwithfilingsomedocuments.Suchwasmyrock-n-rolllife.
Ithrewmyemptypokebowlintothetrash,roundedthehallway,anddecidedtotaketheemergencystairsinsteadoftheelevatorsonawhim.Thosewerebusyasfuckaroundlunchhour,andasitturnedout,peopleinRoyalPipelinesdidn’tcareforme.Apparently,theyallknewIwasalazyfuckandweren’tpumpedaboutmyco-runningthecompanywithmytyrantbrotherwhenDaretired.
ItookthestairsdowntwoatatimeuntilIheardavoicedriftingfromdownstairs,twofloorsbelow.Theechocarrieditup,eventhoughthepersonwasobviouslywhispering.
“…reallydon’tcare.Aslongasit’sdone.Discretioniskey.I’llcallyounextweekfromanotherburnerphone.Donotcallme,understand?It’stoorisky.Ishouldn’thaveevenpickedupyourcalltoday,”thevoiceseethed.
Syllie.
Iwasn’tonetoeavesdrop.Notoutofgoodmanners,Godforbid,butbecauseIgavezero-to-minus-thirtyfucksaboutotherpeople’slives.Syllie,despitebeinganokaydudebro,wasatthebottomofthelistofpeopleIwasinterestedin.Ifhehadasidepiece,goodforhim.Ishookmyhead,smilingtomyself.Oldsportwassamplingotherflavorssecretly.Naughty.Iwaited,lettingloverboyfinishhiscall.
“I’mnotworriedabouttheoldsod.He’sgettingsmuggerbythesecond.Hisyoungerkidisalsoaliteralfuckingjoke—wouldn’trecognizetroubleifitgavehimherpesandcuthisdickoff.Buttheoldersonisdangerous.Weneedtowatchhim.”
Whoa.
Re.Fucking.Wind.
Literalfuckingjoke?Thishadmynamealloverit.I’dnearlytrademarkedthisbitchinmyfamily.Dangerousolderson?Thatwouldbemoórga.PreciousCillian.
Also,thissoundednothinglikeatorrid,harmlessaffairwithananal-lovingmistress.
Iwasn’toffended,thoughIknewhe’dreferredtomeasagoodiebagofincompetency,STDs,andfailure.Iwasmoreoccupiedwithwhathewasupto.Iplasteredmybacktothewall,tryingnottomakemyselfknown.ForthefirsttimesinceI’ddiscoveredmydickwasgoodformorethanpissinginterestingshapesinthesnow,Iwasinterestedinsomethingthatwasn’tpussy.
“Yes,that’sfine.Listen,Ineedtoheadbacktotheofficebeforepeopleaskquestions.We’lltalknextweek.”
Hekilledthecall,sighedheavily,andstartedmakinghiswayupthestairway.Thinkingonmyfeet,Iwentbackupthestairs,tiptoeing,openedthefirstavailabledoor,andslidin.Ipressedmybacktoit,listeningtoSylvesterascendingthestairstotheeighthfloor.Whenthecoastwasclear,IopenedthedoorandmademywaystraighttoDa’soffice.
IwasoutofbreathbythetimeIgottohim.HewassittingwithCillian—surprise,surprise—laughingovertheirbowlsofsalad.Ididn’tknock.Partofmewantedtopleasehim,buttheotherwashappytopisshimoff.
“FortheloveofGod,learnhowtoknock.”Daputhissaladdownandpattedhismouthwithanapkin.“Whatdoyouwant,ceannbeag?”
Iwaitedfortheslow-assdoortoclosealltheway,regulatingmybreath,beforeItalked.
“Firstofall,foryoutostopcallingmethis.”IthoughtabouthowIcalledSailorCTeventhoughshehatedit.“Second,IjustheardSyllietalkingweirdshitwithsomeoneonthephone.Ithinkitwasaboutus.”
“Specify,”Cillianordered,chewingonapieceoflettuceandsteamedchickenfromtheorganicbardownstairs.Eventhatdidn’temasculatethefucker.
“Ithinkhewantstobringusdownorsomething.”
“Us?”Cillianarchedathickeyebrow,assessingmethroughhoney-huedeyes.Hetookassholenesstoawholenewleveltoday—probablystillpissedabouttherefineryexplosion.Butnobodywashurt,sowhatwasthebigdeal?
“You.Happy?”Icrushedmyteethtogetherangrily.“Hewantstotakeyoudown.HesaidsomethingabouthowAthairwassmug,andIwasstupid,andyouweredangerous,butthathewantedtogoonwithsomeplan.”
“Wherewasthat?”
Cillianwastheonlyonetalking.Dahadreturnedhisattentiontohissalad,andIwonderedifheeventookmeseriously.Ifeltmyearspinkingwithrage.“Emergencystairway.”
CillianandDaexchangedlooksIcouldn’tread.MaybeI’dhavebeenabletoif,youknow,Isawthemmorethantwiceayear.
“Probablybitterabouthisquarterlybonus.”Dapattedthecornersofhismouthwithhisgreenhandkerchief,chewing.
Cillianfrowned,butdidn’tcorrecthisassumption.
“Gobacktoyourduties,boy.”Myfatherwavedmeoff.
“ButDa…”
“Chop-chopnow,”hestressed,pointingatthedoorwithhisplasticfork.
Iglancedbetweenthem.Mybrotherlookedatmeinastrangeway.Thewheelsinhisbrainturning.Whateverhewasthinking,itwasn’tenoughtobackmeup.Ikickedatrashcan,sendingpaperandbottlesflyingeverywhere.
Nice.Assholedoesn’trecycle,either.
“Jesusfuck,youneverlisten.”
“Stop.Cursing,”Athairbitout.
Cillianmotionedtosecuritythroughthewindowemotionlessly.
“Noneedtocallyourguarddogs.I’mleaving.”
Iwantedtoslamtheglassdoorintheirfaces,butagain,watchedasitclosedinchbyinchforhalfagoddamnhour.
SylvesterLewiswantedtofuckmyfamilyup,anddespiteeverything,ormaybebecauseofeverything,Iwasn’tokaywiththat.
Iwantedtogettothebottomofthis.BeforeorafterIscrewedmyfather’slittleredheadproject?Onlytimewouldtell,butIhadtwoincentivesnow.Twothingstowakeupinthemorningfor:
1.FindoutwhatSylliewasuptoanddealwithhimmyself
2.TameSailorBrennan,theunbroken,wildhorseIwantedtouseasmyownpersonalpetuntilthisnightmareofanagreementwasoverOnMonday,Iwokeuptoapictureofmeinthelocalnewspaper,duckingmyheaddownwhilefollowingHuntertoalimoonourwayoutofthefundraiser.
“TheHunterGames:RoyalPipelinesPlayboyCaughtCanoodlingArcheryMistressSailorBrennan!”screamedtheheadline,whichIthoughtwasbothincorrectandunwitty.
IfiguredGeraldwasbehindthis,andalsoknewhehaddecidedtomarkethissonandmeasacoupletotameHunter’sdisastrousimage,soItriedtotellmyselfIdidn’tcare—allwhileshovingthenewspapertothebottomofmyduffelbag,makingsureJunsucouldn’tfindit.
Asitturnedout,acoupledayslateritdidn’treallymatter.
“Theboy.He’shereagain,”Junsuannouncedsolemnly,hishandsclaspedbehindhisback,adisapprovingpuckeronhislips.
Ignoringhim,Iliftedmybow,whichlookedlikeanarmrippedfromaTransformerrobot,drawingabreathtoregainmycomposure.Ithadtakenmeforty-eighthourstogetmyheadstraightafterthestupidfundraiser.IspentSundaywithPersy,Belle,andAisling,eatingcupcakes,watchingRiverdale,andtalkingaboutanythingotherthanHunterFitzpatrick.Irealizedonedancemeantnothinginthegrandschemeoflife.Thefactofthematterwas,Hunterwasscrollingthroughpicturesofhalf-nakedgirlsinthelimoafterourso-calledmoment.Igottemporarilyblindedbyhislooks,butcheckedmyselfquickly.Now,itwastimetofocusonwhattrulymattered:archery.
Myeyeszoomedinonthetarget,andIimagineditwasHunter’sbeautifulface.Ireleasedthearrow,watchingittravelthe76.5yardstoitsdestinationandlandingontheeight-pointring.
Iknewithadnothingtodowithmylackofcold-eyedprecisionandeverythingtodowithmysorerightshoulder,buteverytimeIcomplainedtoJunsu,hesaiditwastheusualdiscomfortathleteshadtodealwith.
“Youthinkitisanydifferentinjudo,fencing,andartisticswimming?Theyallhurt.Artispain,Sailor.”
Iloweredthebow,adjustingmyballcapbeforepluckinganotherarrowfromthestackbesideme.
“DidyouhearwhatIsaid?”Junsuasked.Hissterngazeprickledmyskinwithawareness.
“Loudandclear.”Ipunchedthetimeronmywatchtotwentyseconds,thetimegivenOlympicarcherswhentheyreachedthefinals,andbegantodrawthearrow.I’dbeenshootingbetweentwohundredandthreehundredarrowsaday,workingdayandnight.
“Well?”hesaidimpatiently.“Shoohimaway.Heiswaitingoutside.”
Ishotthesecondarrow—thistimeimaginingthetargettobeHunter’selusive,coldheart—watchingasitgottheseven-pointring.
Shoot.IneededasteroidshotorIwasgoingtoperformmiserablythisweek.
ItwistedmynecktolookatJunsu,smilingcalmly.“Acknowledginghimwouldencouragehim.AsIsaidbefore,heisnotmyboyfriend.Ifhedecidestovisitmehere,Ihavenocontroloverit,butI’mnotgoingtostopmytrainingbecauseofit.”
Junsudidn’tmentionHunteragain,andItriednottothinkabouthispresencehere.Isuckedfortheremainderofthepractice.
Halfanhourlater,Istrolledoutoftheshootingrangetomycar,surprisedtofindHunterleaningagainstmytrunkinhispristinenavysuit,hisarmsandlegscrossed.
Hewaitedoutsideallthistime?
“Sothisishowlivinginthedoghousefeels.”Hespreadhisarms,gesturingtoanimaginarykennel,hiswordsseasonedwithbuoyancy.
“Ifyou’reabouttomakeabitchjoke,pleasesparetheworld,andwhileyou’reatit,getoffmytrunk,”Ishotback.
Huntersurprisedmebyobliging,mutteringsomethingaboutthingshewouldliketodowithmytrunkthathadnothingtodowithmyvehicle.
Ipoppedthetrunkopen,dumpingmygearinside.Islammeditshut,feelingthesweet,curlingpressureofexcitementescalatinginmychestdespitemybestefforts.WhenIturnedaround,Hunterwasthere,inmyface.Closerthanthetimewe’ddancedtogether.Heplantedhishandsoneithersideofme,onmycar,hislipsinchesfrommine.
“You’reavoidingme,”hehissed.
“Soareyou.”
Myroommatehadn’texactlysoughtmeoutsincethefundraiser,otherthantheunansweredtextmessages.Truthwas,Ihadnorighttobehurtbecausehewascheckingoutotherwomen,andhehadnorighttointerruptmewhileIwastraining.Thelineswerebeginningtoblur,andIdidn’tlikeit.
Hunter’sthumbstouchedtheedgeofmybuttfromeitherside,andIwonderedifitwasonpurpose.“Justgaveyoutimetocalmyourtits.Obviously,theystillneedsomechilling.”
“Obviously,”Isaidflatly,pushingathischest.Hedidn’tbudge.Ilookedup,frowning.
“Outofmyway,PrinceSyphilis.”
“Havedinnerwithme,PrincessPsychotic.”
“Goaway.I’llseeyouathome.”
“Notathome.Somewhereelse.Somewherepublic.Somewherefun.”
Hesaidthewordfunlikeitwasanawfulprofanity.Likefunwasmyarchenemy.Hesoundedlikemyparents.Sure,Ihadfun.Ijustdidn’thaveitwithboys.
Oroutsideofmyroom.
Fine,maybeIcouldusesomehelpinthefundepartment.
“There’sperfectlyediblefoodathome.Nora,thecook—”
“FuckNoraintheasswithaspatula.Youdon’teatoutsidebecauseyou’rehungry.Youdoitforthegoddamnexperience.It’sanindulgence.”
“Somethingyou’dknowallabout,”Ihuffed,hatingthathesmelledlikelaundrydetergentandmale,andanotherthingthatmademystomachdippleasurably
“Yup.”Heflickedmyear,takingastepbackwhenherealizedIwasgoingtorelent.
AndIwas.Becausedeepdown,IknewIhadnorighttogivehimgrief.Hewasmakinggoodprogressonallfronts,andIwashisbabysitter.Ishouldbemoreinvolved.
Ituggedmycarkeysoutofmypocketandwincedasmyshoulderburnedwithpain.HowonEarthwasIgoingtodrive?
Hunterreadmymindandsnatchedthekeysfrommyhand,roundingmycar,abounceinhisstep.
“Allowme.You’llprobablygetustheresometimenextThursday.Mydelinquentasscandonutourwayandstillgettherefaster.”
Iwasgoingtoprotest,buthewasactuallydoingmeafavor.ThebestthingIcoulddorightnowwasgivemyshouldersomerestandiceitwhenwegothome.Islidintothepassengerseat,carefultoclosethedoorwithmyhealthyleftarm.
“Whereto?”Ibuckled,peeringathimwhenIwassurehewasbusytryingtoarrangehislonglimbsintomyspace.Helookedcomicallybig,hiskneestouchingthesteeringwheelonbothsides.Headjustedmyseat,startingthecar.
“It’sasurprise.”
“Ihatesurprises.”
“Shocker.Closeyoureyesuntilwegetthere.”Hebackedoutoftheparkingspotatthirtymilesperhour,gunningoutofthelotlikeademon.Intherearviewmirror,IsawJunsustandingonthestairstotheclub,browsfurrowed,handsonhiships.
Nothappy.
“Ican’t,”Iheardmyvoicethroughthepoundingpanicinmyhead.Technically,Junsucouldn’ttellmewhattodo.Hecouldn’ttellmewhotodate.LanaAlderdatedallthetime.She’devenhadahigh-profileaffairwiththatactorwhoplayedthenewSpiderman.“I’llgetnauseous.”
“Damn,Sailor.Waytocraponcarpediem.”Hunterreachedovertopatmythigh,andIinwardlywinced.
IwaswearingyogapantsandablandDriFitshirtandlookedlikeEdSheeranintights.He,ontheotherhand,lookedlikehewasattendingtheOscars.Hunterheadedtowardthehighwayataspeedmorefittingforaplanetakingoff.
“SohowcomethedaughteroftheinfamousTroyBrennanissuchadork?”heaskedconversationally.
“Firstofall,myfatherisareputablebusinessmanunlessprovenotherwise.”IrepeatedthewordsDadhadtoldmetosayeversinceIwasoldenoughtotalk.Peoplefelttheurgetopokeandprodaboutthepatriarchofmyfamilylikeitwasanationalsport.
Huntersnorted,keepinghiseyesontheroad.“Andsecondofall?”
“We’renotourparents.Caseinpoint,yourfatherrunsoneofthelargestcorporationsinAmerica,andyou,incontrast,areanamateurpornstar.”
“Don’ttellmeyou’veseenmeinaction?”Agrincurvedoverhisface.
“Nope.YouaskedmenottoGoogleyou,remember?”
“BeforeIrealizedyoucouldhandleme.Shame.Newcustomersgetthefirstridefree.”
“I’llpass.Ihearthemovieisbetter.”
Hehowledwithlaughter,hisvoicesexyandgruff.Determinedtoignorethebutterfliesswarminginmychest,Istaredoutthewindow,munchingontheskinaroundmythumbnail.
“Foryourinformation,Alice,thechickyoucaughtmecheckingoutonSaturday,isjustafriend.”
“Doesthatmeanyouhaven’tsleptwithher?”Myeyeswerestilltrainedonthedarknessoutside,buthopeflaredinmystomach.WeweredrivingoutsideofBoston,upnorth.
“Nah,I’vesleptwithherplenty,butshe’satotalherb.Plus,shedoesn’tusemyballsasBaodingballslikeyoudo.Withyou,I’moutmatched,outwitted,andoutrageouslyirritated.”
“Sowhatareyousaying?ThatI’mtoosmartandmouthytobeyourfriend?”
“You’retooeverything.I’mhappytopopyourcherry,butletmegiveyouapieceofadvice—youneedtotonetheintensitydown.IthinktheonlythingIcanbeatyouatispolo.”
“Andafistfight,”Imused,notcorrectinghisassumptionthatIwasavirgin.
Youshouldn’tcare,andheshouldneverfindout.
“Debatable.”Heside-eyedme.
“Anyway,Iknowhowtohorsebackride.”Ipressedmyfurnace-hotcheekagainstthecoolwindow.WheneverIwasaroundHunter,IfeltlikemyIQdroppedfortypoints.Naturewasajackasslikethat.Mybraintoldmetostaythehellaway,butmybodybeggedtoreproducewiththisbeautifullydestructivemalespecimen.
“Polotakesmorethanbeinganaccomplishedequestrian.”
“Icantakedownagallopinghorseblindfoldedwithonearrow,”Iremindedhim.“Sotechnically,Icanstillbeatyouatpolo.”
Helaughedagain,shakinghishead.
“Nevermetagirlwhocanbesoicecoldandfirehotatthesametime.OnesecondIthinkyou’reforsuregonnafaintifItouchyourhand,theotherI’mcertainyou’reabouttokillmeinmysleep.You’reatrip,CT.”
Hunterparkedmycaronagraveledroadoutsideanoldtaverninthemiddleofnowhere.TheTudor-stylepub’schimneyproducedawhitetrailofsmoke,spiralinguptoacloudless,starlesssky.Therewasthefaintnoiseofcrickets,thehighwaybeyondthetrees,andmaybeanowl.
“Howdoyouknowaboutthisplace?I’velivedheremyentirelifeandneverheardofit.YoubarelyevenknowBoston.”Iunfastenedmyseatbelt.AsIsaidit,Irealizedtheimplicationofthistruth.Hunterhadgrownupawayfromhisfamily,inaforeignland,withstrangers.
Yesterday,AislinghadtoldusshegottospendherchildhoodinBostonentirelybychance.Anall-girlboardingschoolopenedinourareabeforeshehitfirstgrade.Ithelpedthatherparentswenteasieronheracademically,sinceshewasagirl,andGeraldneverputpressureonhertojointhefamilybusiness.ButCillianandHunterwerebothsentabroadpromptlyaftertheirsixthbirthday,andwhileCilliancompletedhishighschooleducationinNewEngland,HunterwassentallthewaytoCaliforniasohisparentsdidn’thavetodealwithhim.
Hunterslidoutofthecar.“IwasontheroadwithmynannycomingbackfromapolomatchthisonetimewhenIwasakid.Ourcarbrokedown,anditwaspissingrain,sowewentinandsheletmehaveFrenchfries,agreasyburger,andamilkshake.ItwasthefirsttimeIhadFrenchfries.Upuntilthen,itwasonlytheorganicbullshitthepersonalchefmade.Dahappenedtobeinthearea,sohepickedusuphimself.Itwasthefirsttimeheeverdidthat—like,spenttimewithmeinthemiddleofthedayandshit.”
Hefrowned,likehe’djustrealizedwhythisplacewasspecialforhim.
Forallhisformidablereputation,myfatherhadrarelymissedanyofmytoughtumblerclasses.HeletmehavewhatevertreatsIwanted,andhadasecondgigasmypersonalchauffeuruntilIgotmylicense.WespentSaturdaysgoingtoSam’sMMAtournaments,andbothmyparentswereconstantfixturesinourlives.
“Anyway,everytimeIvisitmyparents,Icomehere.SometimesItakeAisling.Idon’treallyhaveacrewhere,sowhenshecan’tmakeit,Icomealone.”
Hepushedtheoldwoodendooropen.Weambledintoanorange-lit,loudpubwiththreelongrowsofhand-carvedwoodentablesandmatchingbenches.ItlookedlikeaninnstraightoutofaGameofThronesepisode,completewithloudGaelicmusicandworkmengulpingalefrompints.Thescentofsmokedmeat,warmbeer,andsweatcurledintomynostrils.
Ifeltmybodystiffening.Ihatedloud,crowdedplaces.
Especiallyloud,crowdedplacesjam-packedwithstrangemen.
EspeciallyseeingasIwasherewithsoft-palmedHunter,whowasaboutasprotectiveasapieceofusedgum.
EveryboneinmybodyscreamedatmetoturnaroundanddoaU-turn.Iwasn’tascaredycat,butIwastheonlywomaninthisplace,andIknewI’dinvitesomecommentarywithmyboyishattireandwildhair.Hunternudgedmeforward,askingthewaiterwhocametomeetusatthedoorwherewecouldsit.
“Justwherever,man.Place’spacked.”Apimplyteenagerwithtwotraysfullofmushypeas,mashedpotatoes,androastsfloatedaroundtheroom,yellingtheordernumbersthatcameoutofthekitchenthroughthechatter,laughter,andmusic.
Wesatdown,sandwichedbetweentwooldmenwhotalkedovertheirbeersandapackofconstructionworkers,theirfacesandclothescoveredindust.ThetwowhosatbyHunterandmelookedyoungandhadaSoutherntwang.Apileoffoamed,emptyglassesofbeersatbetweenthemasabarrier.Theywereobviouslyintoxicated,basedontheirslurringandslowconversation.
Ifidgetedwithmyfingersunderthetable.Hunterorderedbothofusrootbeer,earninganapprovingsmilefromme.Heproceededtofrownatthemenu,fingeringthewoodenhorsepeekingthroughhisdressshirt.Rollingmythumbovertheedgeofthemenu,Iwatchedthelittlehorsepressedagainsttheblanketofhisfairchesthair,andidlywonderedwheremybrainwas,becauseIdefinitelydidn’tbringitwithmetothispub.Ifinallyunderstoodthephrasestupidhot
Hunter’shotnessmademestupid.
“What’supwiththehorse?”Iclearedmythroat,frowningatmymenubeforehecouldcatchmeoglinghim.
Hunterwithdrewhishandfromit,realizingwhathewasdoing.
“Oh,thisoldshit?”Hechuckled,snatchingtherootbeerthewaitergaveusandtakingadrinktobuytime.“It’snothing.”
“Tellmehowyougotitanyway.”Ilinkedmyfingerstogether,placingmychinovermyknuckles.Theguynexttomeburpedloudly,awarmgustofmeat-breathfanningthesideofmyface.
Ibreathedthroughmymouth,tryingnottogag.
“WhenIwasakid,wheneverIwashomefromboardingschool,myparentsusedtothrowanannyortwoonmyasssotheywouldn’thavetospendtimewithme.Onmysixth…no,eighthnanny,DadecidedIneededtolearnhowtoplaypolo.Iwasbeingkindofaprickaboutit.Thatsummer,NannyNumberEight—shitifIrememberhername,butshewasSwedish—hadtophysicallywrestlemeintothecarbeforepracticeeveryday.Ihatedhorseswithapassion.What’stolikeaboutthefuckers?Theysmell,theysleepwhilestanding,andhavenogagreflex—which,ifImaysay,makesthemradfuckbuddies,buthorriblediningmates.ButIdigress.SoIguessmySwedishnannywasstartingtogetalittleworriedforherjobbecauseIwasdisplayingresistance—alsoknownasbeingagoddamnkid.OnedayshegavemethisDalahorseasagift.ToldmetheSwedishbelieveitbringsgoodluck,andI’dneverfallfromahorseifIworeit.Mindyou,IbelievedinSantauntilIwas,like,thirteen,soofcourseIboughtit.”
“Anddidyou?Fallfromahorse,Imean?”
Helookedupfromthemenu,hiseyesglitteringwithmischief.“Nope.Zeroscratches.Nocaraccidents,either.”
“Youremember.”Istaredathimpointedly.Iknewthetruthofmystatement.Itburnedinmybones.
“Rememberwhat?”Hisfacewascarefullyblank.
“ThenameofthatSwedishnanny.”
Heremembereditbecausehecared.Buthedidn’twanttocare.Hunterwasn’tstupidatall.Hejustbuiltwallsuponwallsaroundhimselfthatmadeitdifficulttogetthroughtohim,becauseinhisexperience,peopleweren’ttheretostay.
Heflashedmeadevilishgrin.“Sorry,sweets,Idon’t.Whataboutyou?How’dyougetintoarchery,anyway?Thatshit’sdeaderthanHenrytheSixth.”
Huntertookanothersipofhisrootbeer,adarkmustacheformingonhisupperlip.Helickeditclean,andIwatchedashistongueslowlysweptacrosshismouth.Ifeltmythroatbob.Itremindedmeheneverhadcashedinourkiss.
Maybeheforgotallaboutitafteryourmeltdownatthefundraiser.
“You’lllaugh,”Iwarned.
“Naturally.”
Ilookeddown.“It’sacliché,actually.RobinHood.Specifically,whenIwaslittle,Ilovedtheideaofbeinganoutlawwho’salsogood.Maybebecausemydad…”Ipaused,swallowingtheshameinmythroat.
“Isarespectablebusinessmanunlessprovenotherwise?”Hunterquirkedaneyebrow.
Ilaughed,feelingmyselfblush.“Exactly.Therumorsabouthimchasedme.Hisallegedsinsweremine,too.I’msureyouknowwhatit’sliketobedefinedbyotherfamilymembers.”
Hunternodded.“Straightup.”
“IlikedthenarrativeofRobinHood,theromanticizingofacriminal.Heseeksadventure,stealsfromtherich,andgivestothepoor.Also,thefoxintheDisneyfilmwasveryorange,likemyhair,”Iadmitted,warrantingmoreofHunter’saddictivelaughter.
Itsomehowdrownedoutalltheothernoise,evenfromtheguynexttome,whowasnowchain-cursingathisfriend.Hespokeanimatedly,withhishands,andsometimeselbowedmewhenhetriedtodemonstratesomething.
“Besides,Ialwayswantedtoknowhowtouseaweapon.Gunsarecold,metallic,impersonal;archeryrequirespatience,precision,andpassion,”Iconcluded.“OnceIgotintoit,itbecameanaddiction.Itwasasafehavenfromthechatteraboutmyfamily,aboutme.IguessbynowyoucantellIdon’thaveatonoffriends,sothishelpedburntimeafterschool.”
Itwasunlikemetoopenuptosomeone,especiallyastranger,andabeautiful,maleoneatthat.Isoundedlikeareject,butifHunterfeltIwasoversharingorpitiedme,hisfacedidn’tbetrayit.
Henodded,seemingtoconsidermywords.“I’mgladyoufoundyourcalling.”
“I’msorryyouhaven’t.”Iputmyhandsonthetablebetweenus,expecting…what?ThatHunterwouldgathertheminhis?
Hedidn’t,ofcourse.
Thewaitermaterializedbehindmybacktotakeourorders.Iswiveledawkwardly,realizingforthefirsttimethatIhadn’tevenlookedatthemenuyet.
IwasabouttoaskforafewmoreminuteswhenHunterboomedbehindme,“We’llbothtakethepotroastwithgravy,onions,androastedpotatoes,withasideofstuffedportabellas.Also,I’lltipyoutwentybucksforeverytimeyoubringashotofBaileystotheladywhensheblushes.Canyoudothatforus,oldsport?”
Thepimplywaiterdidn’tevenbothercardingus.Heflashedhisyellowteethinagrin,nodded,collectedourmenus,anddashedtothewindowseparatingthebarfromthekitchenwithourorder.
IturnedtoHunter.Heworethelopsidedgrinofamisunderstoodvillain.
“You’renotdriving,andseeingasI’mfullysoberandcelibate,IfiguredI’lleventhescore.”
“Inreverse,”Inoted.
“Itismyfavoriteposition.”Heopenedhisarmsexaggeratedly,notcaringifhebumpedintootherpeople’sshouldersintheprocess.
Thatmademeblush,andhelaughed,muttering,“Easyprey.”
Luckily,thewaiterhadhisbacktous,becauseithadn’tevenbeenthreesecondssinceheleft.Iwasgoingtobesoscrewedbytheendoftheevening.Also,sodrunk.
“So…Yousaidyoudon’tknowwhattodowithyourlife.”Iredirectedhimbacktoourconversation.
Themanwhosatbesidemescoffed,turninghisbodytowardme,butIdidn’tswiveltomeethisgaze.Itwasprobablyjustinmyhead,anyway.Iwasmindingmyownbusiness.Whywouldhelookatmestrangely?
“I’mbrickdumb,yo.OfcourseI’venocluewhatIwanttodowithmyself.I’monlygoodatpartying,fucking,anddrinkingsemi-responsibly.Notmanypeoplepretendtothinkotherwise.Infact,I’vebeentoldveryfewtimesthatIhavepotential,andeachtimeIwas,Ihatedit.Potentialislikeatwelve-inchdickonanimpotent:dazzlinglyuseless.’Sides,Idon’tneedpotential.I’veknownIwasgoingtotakeoverRoyalPipelineswithCilliansinceIwasfour.”Hunterknockedtherestofhisrootbeerdown,smackingtheemptypintonthetable.
Myeyesnearlybulgedoutoftheirsockets.“Whoa.That’syoung.”
“MyfuturewaswrittenformelongbeforeIwasborn.Justaswell,asI’dhaveprobablybeentoolazytowriteitmyself.”
“Andifyoucouldchoose?”Ipressed.“Whatwouldyouwanttodowithyourlifeifyouweren’taFitzpatrick?”
Themannexttomewasnowlaughingwithhisfriend,slappingthewoodentable.Utensilsandglassesrattled,dancingagainstthewoodensurface.Hunterseemedcompletelyoblivioustohim.Hewasconfidentandnonchalant.Thingslikethatdidn’tregisterforhim.
“Idon’tknow.IcouldbeaDJ.OrmaybeIcouldbeamaleprostitute.Butonlyforhotchicks.AndIwouldprobablybetoonicetochargethem.Wait,there’sanameforthat.Tinder.”
Hunterlaughedathisownwords,butthelightinhiseyesswitchedoff.
Istayedsilentforafewbeats,consideringthewayhesawhimself.Finally,Isaid,“Ithinkyou’retalentedinalotofways.Ithinkyou’refunnyandstupidlylikeableandcarryanenergyinsideyouthat’sexplosiveandenviable.Youcanmakeanyonefeelcomfortablearoundyou,andthat’ssomethingtheydon’tteachyouatcollege.Youarecharming,confident,andcouldtalkyourwayoutofamurdercharge.Youcouldprobablybeveryhelpfultoyourfather’scompany,butmaybenotcrunchingnumbers.Whataboutpublicrelations,or—”
“JesusChrist,man.Unziphispantsandsuckhimoff,already,”themanbesidemesnapped.
Heblastedintofrantic,slurredlaughter,coilinghisfistandofferingittoHunterforapound.Hewaspromptlylefthanging,asHunterstaredhimdownwithanexpressionthatsuggestedhewasgoingtomaimhimwithhisemptypintglass.Themandroppedhisfist,raisingbothpalmsinsurrender.
“AllI’msayingisyou’rewastingyourtimewithWilmaFlintstoneoverhere.Idiedalittlelisteningtohersalivatingalloveryourlap.Don’tyouhaveafriendtosaveyoufromthisdatefromhell?Didshescamyouintothinkingshe’shotonBumble?What’sgoingon?Y’alldon’tlooklikeanaturalfit.”
TheguybesideHunter—RudeGuy’scompanion—coughedoutapotatochip,almosttopplingbackwardsonthebenchwithlaughter.Afewpeoplestoppedwhattheyweredoing,quieted,andsentcuriousglancesourway.
Thetauntshitmelikehail.Hardandpainfulandcruel,likethatboyonthebalconyinthewintertimewhodidn’twanttogoaway.
LikeHunterfeltwhenIfirstsawhim.
Ifelttheheatofthehumiliationonmycheeks,thestingoftearsstabbingthebackofmyeyeballs.ThereweremanythingsIwantedtosay,scream,throwintheman’sface,butIcouldn’t.Iwastoofrozentospeakup.
AndHunter…Hunterjuststaredathim.
“Look,man,you’vegotthelooks.Youobviouslymakeafinebuckwithhowyoudress.Youcandosomuchbetterthanthisratty-lookingthing,”theguycontinued,throwingathumbmyway.“Justsayin’whateveryoneinthisroomisthinkingrightnow.”Hegrabbedhisbeerandfinishedhisdrinkinonegulp,throwingtheemptypintbehindhisshouldercomically,wigglinghisbrows.Thepintsmashedonthefloor.
Nobodylaughed.Nobodyspoke.Nobodybreathed
Hunter’slefteyetwitched—justtheonetic.Otherthanthat,hewasverystill.
Iwantedtodie.Tocry.ToshootapoisonousarrowthroughRudeGuy’sheart.Torunawayfromhereasfarasmyfeetcouldcarryme.PackmythingsandleaveHunter’sapartment.Iwantedtochangemynameandmyhaircolorandmywardrobe.Startoversomewherenew,wherenobodyknewme.Thisguydidn’tknowme.That’swhyhe’dsaidit.
Hedidn’tknowwhomyfatherwas.
Whomybrotherwas.
Hewasn’tscaredoftheaftermath.
HowmanymoremenI’dknownhadviewedmetheexactsamewayasthisguy,butnevervoiceditaloudbecausetheywerescared?
Istaredatthejerk,knowingmyfacewasbeetred.Fromthecornerofmyeye,IcouldseeourwaiterrunningoverwithashotofBaileysinhishand,halfofitscontentssloshingoverthealreadystickyfloor.Hewasmakinghiswaytome,Irealized,mylungsdeflating.
Breathe.
Icouldn’tbreathe.
Andtomakemattersworse,Hunterhadcheckedout.
“Notnow,youidiot!”Hunterfinallysnapped,expandinglikeadarkcloud,suddenlysoakedwithhisownanger.Heroseinonethunderousmovement,flippingthehalf-fullplateoftheguybesidehimandwatchingasitscontentsfellintotheman’slap.
Ishrankonthewoodenbench,watching’sHunter’seyesnarrowintotwoslitsoffury.
“What’dyoujustsaytome?”Myroommatebaredhisteeth,Titan-like,tallandformidableandbiggerthanthisplace.Thanthismoment.Itlookedlikehewasgrowingbiggerandbigger,liketheHulk.“Getthefuckupandrepeatyourself,youuselesssackofshit.”
Therudemanrelishedtheopportunityforabrawl.Hestoodtall,chinup,chestexpanded,peacock-like.
“Isaidyourgirlfriendisugly,andnowthatIseehowgoddamnoffendedyouareaboutit,I’mthinkingmaybesheain’treallyyoursteadyride.Maybeshe’syourbeard.AprettyboylikeyouhasnobusinessbeingwithagirllikeherIf…”Heraisedhishand,takingadeliberate,comicpause.“…she’stheonewiththepussybetweenyoutwo.”
Thepub’swallsrattledwithlaughter,thebeersonthetablessplatteringeverywhere.Iclungtomytatteredself-control,keepingmywobblychinup,althoughapartofmewonderedhowIwasgoingtostitchmyself-esteembacktogetherafterthis.
Itwasn’tjusttorn;itwasmassacred.
“I’mgoingtobutcheryou,”Hunter’svoicewassolow,itsoundedlikeitcamefromananimal.Thelookonhisface—oneI’dneverseenonhimbefore—ofbrazendeterminationdippedwithfury,mademybonesrattle.Therewasazingofinsanitythere.Irecognizeditwell.Myfatherhadthesameglimmerinhiseyesbeforehewentonhislate-nightjobs.
“Oh,yeah?”Theguyplacedonehandonhisroundedwaist.
Hewaspudgy,butstrong.Fatandmusclecordedtogetherintoaboar-shapedman.Youcouldtellbyhisbodylanguage—rottensmile,palmsopen—thathelovedtofight,diditoften,andwouldn’thesitatetobreakHunter’sneck.
“’Causeitseemstomelikeallyou’redoingisstandingthere,throwingemptythreatsmyway,prettyboy.”
Thepimplywaiterrantothebackofthetavern,probablytogethissuperiors.Afewpeopleloweredtheirheads,possiblydebatingwhethertobreakthingsupbetweenthetwomen.
Imanagedtostand.IleanedtowardHunteracrossthetable.
“Don’tbother.He’sawasteofspace,oxygen,andprobablypornclicks.”Itriedtoinjecthumorintomyvoice.“Let’shittheroad,Hunt.”
Hunterignoredme,staringpointedlyattheguyashetookoffhisblazermeticulously.Iknewhedidn’tknowhowtofight.Theself-proclaimednoblemanneverhadtodealwithhisownproblems.
“Heisnothing.Anoone.”Itriedagain,reachingdesperatelyforthesleeveofhisdressshirt.Hunterjoltedhishandaway.
“Please,Hunter,let’sjustleave.”
“Ah,shespeaks.Anditisashe.Ma’am,Ihavetitsbiggerthanyours.”Theguycackled,exposingarowofyellowteethandbouncingthetwopeaksofhischesttowardHunter.Iwasreadytopunchthelightsoutofhimmyself.Iwasn’tafraidofphysicalviolence.MydadhadtaughtmehowtoheadbuttandkneepeopleintheballsbeforeIwasoutofdiapers.
Theatmosphereturneddark,unhinged.Rancidlaughter,cheapalcohol,andthescentofadrenalineandviolencerosefromthecrookedwoodenfloors.MyfingerscurledbesidemeasIgotreadytoattack.RudeGuyturnedaround,abouttobowtothetablebehindus,fullofpeoplelaughingandwhistling,whenHuntergrabbedhimbythecollarofhisshirtandhurledhimacrossthetable.
Thewholeroomsuckedinabreathasthemanflewacrossthepub.Hefellbackagainsttheentrancedoor,headrestingonhischest.Forasecond,Ithoughthe’dbrokenhisneck,butthenheraisedhisheadandstartedlaughing,jumpingtohisfeetwithalithenessthatdidn’tmatchhissize.
Heraisedhisfiststolevelwithhisface,circlingHunter,whostillradiatedquiet,deadlyanger.
“Comeatmenow,littlewoman,”themanhooted,sendingadirectblowstraighttoHunter’sface.Unprepared,Huntersailedbackwards,stumblingoverthetableandwobblingonhisfeetjustintimefortheguy’ssecondfisttoconnectwithhisnose.
“Hunter!”Iboltedtowardhim,lungsburning.Iroundedthetable,preparedtojumpthemeatyguy.Somemenstoodup,butnobodywantedtogetintothefiringlineoftwo-hundred-poundmen’sfists.Besides,itseemedexactlyliketheplacetolettwodrunk,blue-collaredmenbrawlitout.OnlyHunterwasn’tblue-collared.Ordrunk.HewasanEton-educatedrichboywhoprobablyhadhisnailsfiledbyaprofessionalregularly.
Oneofthetwoelderlymenwhosatattheedgeofourtabletousclaspedmyarminhishand,stoppingme.
“Don’t.Yourfriendneedstoseethisonethrough,orhewillneverforgivehimself.Youwillnotbehelpinghimbysteppingintothis.Ifanything,hewouldneverbeabletolookatyouagainwithoutrememberinghowyousavedhim.Hehassomethingtoprovehere,sweetheart.”
“Buthe’slosing.He’shurt!”Ishookhimoff.Icouldn’tbeartheideaofHunterhurtingbecauseofme.Itooktwomorestepsbeforetheothermanraisedahandtostopme.
“He’llbemorehurtifyoupullhimouttathere.Icantellyouthatfromseventy-sixyearsofexperience.Yousavehisskinnow,youkillhisego.Onehastogo.Bruisesheal.Pride,ontheotherhand…”
Ilookedup,watchingHunter’sbloodyfaceashetriedtorefocusontheguyhewasfighting,lollinghisheadfromsidetoside.Hezigzaggedonhisfeet.Theywerecirclingeachotherinthecenterofthepub.Hunterraisedhisfists,protectinghisface,buthisdressshirtwasalreadysoakedwithbloodandoneofhiseyeswasturningpurple.RudeGuydidn’tlookmuchbetter,hislowerjawswelling,hislefteyecompletelyshut.
RudeGuywentforasecondhook,butHunter,whowasstartingtogetthegistofstreet-fighting,dodgeditandthrewasuckerpunchrightintheguy’sface.Theexplosivesoundofbonesmashingbonereverberatedintheair,sendinganuncomfortablefrissonupmyspine.RudeGuybuckled,collapsingintohimselflikeastackofcards.Heheldhisnosewithbothhands,moaning.Huntertooktheopportunitytogainmomentumandranintohim,tacklinghimtothegroundwithhisshoulder.Hestraddledhisopponent,rainingsloppyfistsontheguy’shead,ears,andchestwhilethelatterdesperatelytriedtoprotecthimselfwithhisforearms.Bloodsplatteredonthefloor,thewall,people’sshoes.Twoheavycooksandonesmartlydressedmanappearedfromthekitchen’sdoors,runningtowardthem.
“Sayanythingelseaboutthisgirleveragainandyou’redead,asshole.Dead!”Hunterthrewhisfinalfisttothesideoftheguy’sheadbeforeeachcookgrabbedhimbyashoulder.
Astheyraisedhimfromtheman,hisfacewasunrecognizableunderalltheblood.Hunterletthem,watchingwithcoolindifferenceasthemanlyinginaheapofbloodandsweatbelowhisfeetcurledintoafetalposition.
Irantohim,toopanickedtocontrolmyself,andpattedhischeeks,neck,andforehead.Itwascompulsive,frantic,andcompletelyoutofcharacterforme.Iwasusuallybigonpersonalspace.Myfingersshookviolently.Itookinventoryofeveryinchofhisflesh.Helookedbadlybeatup,butnotasbadastheguystillontheground,currentlybeggingthepubownernottocallanambulancebecausehedidn’thaveinsurance.
“Areyouokay?”Iwhispered,realizingmyvoicewasbrittle,unsteady.Ididn’tcarewhattheidiotsaidaboutmeanymore.IjustwantedtoknowHunterwasokay.
Hunternodded,lookingawayatthefloor.Thecornerofhislipbled,andIallowedmyselfonelastmisstep,brushingthebloodoffwithmythumb.
“Talktome,”Icroaked.“Doyouwanttogotothehospital?”
Huntershookhishead,stillstaringatthesamespotbyhisfeet,shuttingthegatestohimselfonceagain,lockingthemupandthrowingawaythekey.
Thewaiterappearedbesideus,squeezingHunter’sshoulder.“I’lltellmymanagerexactlywhathappened.Everybodysawhowheprovokedyou.Therewasnothingyoucoulddotopreventit.Imean,hetalkedmadshitaboutyourgirl,man.”
“She’snotmygirl,”Huntersaidaloofly,gatheringphlegmandspittingit—pinkwiththetracesofbloodinhismouth—ontothefloor.Hereachedforhisbackpocket,tookouthiswallet,andtuggedoutafewbills,stuffingthemintheyoungwaiter’shand.
“Don’twashthefloor.Iwanteveryassholeinthisplacetorememberwhathappenedtoday.”
IjoggedafterHunteroutside.Heunlockedmycar,slidinginandrevvinguptheengine,ignoringmyexistence.Iswungthepassengerdooropen,worriedhe’dforgottenaboutmeandwouldleavemeabandonedifIdidn’thurry.Asharp,needle-likepaininmydeltoidremindedmeofmyinjuredshoulder,andIwinced,foldinginhalfinmyseatfromthepain.Ididn’twanttothinkaboutwhatitmeanttohaveashoulderinjury—bothformyOlympicchancesandmysanity.
Hunterwasstillasastatue,staringatthepubwithazombie-likeexpression.IwishedIknewwhathewasthinking.
Swallowingthehumiliationdownmythroat,Itriedtomakelightofwhathappened.Iwasfullofgratitudeandfearofrejection.Worstofall,Iwasn’tevensurewhatIwasofferingforhimtoreject.
“Ironicallyenough,thatwasn’tanIrishgoodbye.”Iproducedtwopiecesofgumfromtheglovecompartment,unwrappingthethinfoilandofferinghimone.
Hedidn’tmovetotakeit.Ishovedonepieceintomymouthandbegantochew.
“Thanksagain.IpromiseI’mnotaspatheticallyincompetentindealingwiththeoutsideworldasIseem.YoujustalwaysbeatmetoitbeforeIhavethetimetokickass.”
Now’sagoodtimetoshutup,Sailor.
ItwashardtobelieveIwastheonebabysittinghim,whenhewastheoneprotectingme
WhenHunterstilldidn’tshowanysignsoflife,Ibegantoworryhewassufferingfromapost-traumaticdisorder.
“Justtellmeyou’reokay.”Ifeltmyheaddropping,alongwithmyshoulders,exhaustedwithhumiliation.“AndI’llletyoube.”
“I’veneverfoughtbefore,”hesaid,finally,moretohimselfthantome.“I’vedonemyfairshareofscrewed-upshitovertheyears.Ievenranaftermyfriend,Vaughn,withamacheteonetime.ButIneverreallyfought,youknow?Threwfists.Gothurt.Hurtback.”
Heturnedtomeetmyeyes.Ilookedup,gulpinghisattentionravenously.
Ididn’tknowhowitwaspossible,buthelookedevenmoregorgeouswithcutsandbruises.Likeabrandnewcarsportingitsveryfirstscratchthattransformsitfromjustanothercartoyourcar—withhistory,sharedmemories,andbaggage.
Inthatmoment,IwishedI’dneverlaideyesuponHunterFitzpatrick,becauseIknewwithcertaintythatforallhisspoiledways,corruptedbehavior,andobsessionwithpleasure,hewasinnatelygood,loyal,andcourageous.
Thosethingsmadehimverydangeroustome.
Dangerouslyattractive.
“NotthatIencourageanytypeofviolence,butthisguy’sgoingtorememberyourfaceforalongtimewhilehe’swaitingforhistoheal,”Itoldhim.“Socongratsonpoppingyourcherry—andhisnose—withsuccess.”
Moresilenceensued.Mystomachgrowled,remindingmeithadn’tbeenfedinoversevenhours,andIgaveitafirmsqueeze,tryingtoshushit.
Huntershookhishead,finallypullingoutofthemakeshiftdriveway.
“Youhungry?”
“Icouldeat,”Isaidnoncommittally.
Helaughed,thenstoppedwhenhislipreopened.
“Youknow,Irememberedthisplacemorefondly.Itkindofsucks.Let’sMcBingeonartery-cloggingburgerswhileourmetabolismcanstilltakeit.”
“ThankGod.Themeattherelookedfishy,”Igroaned.
“Ihaveaperfectlygoodpieceofmeatbetweenmythighs,ifyou’reinterested.”
Hewashisusual,grossselfagain.Iwasactuallyhappyforthecrasscomment.
“Notintheslightest.”
“Yourloss.”
“AndeveryothergirlinAmerica’sgain,”Iquipped.
“Notforthenextfivemonths,thankstoyourass.”
Fivemonths.
Howhaditbeenamonthalready?
Ithadn’t.Ithadonlybeentwoweeks.ButHunterwasdesperatetogetoutofthisarrangementassoonaspossible.Irestedmyheadagainstmyheadrest,thepainfrommyshoulderandadrenalinepumpinginmyveinsmakingmesleepy.Iclosedmyeyesjustforasecond,butfounditdifficulttoreopenthemasHunterstarteddriving,slashingthroughthenightlikeaknifeonourwaybacktoBoston.
Maybethat’swhyhesaidwhathesaid.HethoughtIwasasleep,notjustresting.
“Agnes,”hewhispered.“Thenanny’snamewasAgnes.”Moodsong:“Zombie”byJamieT.
Thenextweeksuckedworsethantheprevioustwo.
Mylifehadseemedtoshiftfromathemeparkoforgasms,designerclothes,andeternalsunshinetoanongoing,cloudy,celibatecatastrophe.
First,IhadtoexplainwhyIlookedlikemyfacehadbeenchewedbyseverelydiseasedpitbullsattheoffice.Luckily—andIusethattermveryfuckingloosely—CaptainSave-a-Bro,AKASailor,promisedshewouldn’tsnitchonmyassinherweeklyreporttoDa,whichmademefeellikeateacher’spet,sansthefunpart,whereIgotrewardedwithablowie(orwasthatonlyinporn?).
SailorandIhadagreedtogiveDaanalteredversionofhowthingswentdownatthepub.Basically,weconfessedthatIdidgetintoafistfight,butonlybecausetheguygrabbedher.ThatstorywasreceivedwithicyskepticismbyDaandCillian,andwarmendorsementbySyllie,who’dsatinDa’sofficewhenItoldthemaboutit.
Ultimately,nobodycomplainedabouthowIlookedlikeajacked-upThirteenReasonsWhycharacter—allcut,bruised,andlimping.Ifsomeoneharassedawomaninfrontofthem,they’ddothesame.Iwasjustbeingagoddamngentleman.
ThentherewastheSyllieproblem.DahadshutmedownandCillianconsideredwatchingmesquirmanorgasmicoccasion,soIhadtodomyowndigging.IshadowedSyllie’sassatworkwhenhewasn’tpayingattention.Hewasstillbasicallytheonlymotherfuckertoberemotelycivilizedwithme,butIknewwhatI’dheard,andIwantedtogettothebottomofit.Problemwas,I’dhadzeroluckandevenlessopportunitythusfar.
Sylliewasn’ttakinganyprivatecallsintheemergencystairway,andIneededtoupmygame.Inthefivedaysthatfollowedthepubbrawl,IsurprisedmyselfwiththeeffortlesscommitmentIputintotailinghisass.Iexperiencedasoul-crushing,gut-burningurgencytoknowwhathewasupto.
Thentherewasthefinal,lastproblem:Sailor.
Ihadn’tdiscussedwhathappenedinthepubwithher,butIimaginedshewasfreakedoutaboutbeingcalledfuglyandhavingnomanamongthehundredorsointhepubdisputethatassessment.
LettherecordshowthatI,personally,wouldporkthehelloutofher.
Like,yeah,shewasn’tfuck-hotinanobviouskindofway.Shedidn’thavebigtits,curvesformiles,lipsthatlookedlikeaneatlyshavedvagina,andglossyhair.Butshewasthekindofgirlwho,themoreyoulookedather,themoreherbeautycreptuponyou.Shewasunusuallyattractive,butstillattractive.KindoflikeLilyCole.(IttookmethreetimesuntilIfinallymanagedtojerkofftoaLilyColepicture.ButonceIfoundmyrhythm,shewasoneofmyfavoritemodelstonutto.)
TherewassomethingwhimsicalaboutSailor’sredhairandpaleskinandsageeyes.ShelookedlikeafairyfromanIrishfolklore,onewherealotofstrange,magicalshithappened.
Callmeahopelessromantic,butifIwere,say,toplowintoSailorBrennanoneday,youcouldbetyourassI’dbelookingatherfaceandwhisperingsweetnothingsintoherear.(ProfanityaboutwhatIwantedtodotoheruteruswasconsideredsweet,right?)
HowevermuchIfoundmyroommatedelectable,Icouldn’ttellherflatout,becauseshealreadysuspectedIwantedintoherpants(guilty)andalsobecausewe’dbothactedweirdsincethepubbrawl(alsoguilty).
WhatIcouldn’texplaintoherwasthis:I’dalwaysbeentheidiot.Thefool.Thefuckup.IblurtedshitIthoughtwouldmakepeoplelaugh,becauseIwasneverexpectedtosayanythingmeaningfulordeep.Mildlyentertainingwasallanyonehadeverexpectedfromme.Iwassocommittedtobeingacarelessidiot,thattheideaofnotbeingoneintimidatedme.
WithSailor,Icouldn’tbeanidiot.Sheconstantlythrewmeoutofmycomfortzone,andIkeptscramblingbacktoit.
Afterwe’dwolfeddownourMcMealsandstunkuphercar,wegotbackhomeandshe’dtendedtomywoundsinthebathroomwordlessly.
Inthemorning,I’dwalkedintofindherinthekitchen.Itwasseven-thirty,fartoolateforhertostillbehome.I’dwatchedassheshovedtwoAdvilsintohermouth,washedthemdownwithabottleofEvian,anddraggedherselfbacktobed.Iwenttowork,andwhenIgotback,shewasout,probablytraining.
Thenexttimewespoke,ithadbeenabouthowNora’sfoodwassospicyourrectumswereabouttosueourmouths,andhowweshouldlethergoandjustDoorDasheverything.Sailorconfirmedthatfindinggoodfoodspotswashertalent.Which,sidenote,madehermarriagematerial,ifIwasintomonogamy.
Thenext-nexttime,I’dhelpedherfindsomethingonNetflix.
Thenext-next-nexttime,she’dtoldmeshe’dfixedNoraupwithajobatoneofhermom’srestaurants,whichmadeNorasupergratefulforherwalletandussupergratefulforourhealth.
Inshort:wewerebasicallyavoidingeachother.Again
Thefirstfewdays,I’dbeenadamantthatSailorcoulddowhateverthefuckshewantedwithhertime.Aslongastheweeklysnitch-a-thonestablishedIwasascleanasawhistle,Ididn’thavetomakeherafriend.NevermindthatIwaslonelierthanafunctioningbraincellinBrodyJenner’shead.Obviously,Ihadmypride(okay,IcalledVaughnandKnightsooftentheylegitchangedtheirnumbers,butthatwaspurelyinthenameofcomedy).
Today,thefifthdayofourcold-warbullshit,Igothomeatnine,strolledintothehallway,tootiredtocheckwhatSailorhadorderedforus,andheadedstraighttobed.
“Ohhh,”Iheardasoftmoanfromthedoorleadingtothemainbathroom.Mydickstoodupalertly.
Holdthegoddamnpress.
“Hmm,”Sailor’slittlevoicesighedonceagain.
EventhoughasmallpartofmesaidIwasbeingagrade-Acreeper,abiggerparttoldthesmallparttoSTFU,ducttapingitsmouthandthrowingitintosomestrangedude’strunk.Thedevilonmyshoulderchidedmetotakeapeekthroughthedoorcrack.Inmydefense,itwasajar.SheknewwhattimeIwascominghomeandwasperfectlycapableoflockingthebathroomdoor,asshe’ddonedozensoftimesaday.
“Ahhh,”camehervoiceagain,andmydickroaredwithblood,sohardIcouldfeelthefrictionfrommybriefsagainsttheridge.Iwantedtorubmyselfagainstmyself.ThatwasalevelofhornyevenIwasn’taccustomedto.
Sailorwasmasturbating,andsuddenly,theday—despitecontainingtenhoursofwork,bickeringwithDaandCillian,followingSylliesecretlylikesomestrung-outpuppy,andgoingtoeveningclasses—lookedalotbetter.
Takingastepforward,Iglancedthroughthesliverofspacebetweenthedooranditsframe.SailorsatontheedgeoftheJacuzzi,buttnaked,staringatthewaterinsidethroughsquintedeyes.Weirdorgasmface,butIwasn’tjudging.
Shelurchedforward,herbodyfoldingintwo.
Irealizedshewasn’tpleasuringherself,muchtomydismay.Shewaswincingandmassagingherrightshoulder,whichwasswollen.Andbyswollen,Imeantherdeltoidwasthesizeofatennisball.
SailortriedtoswingherlegsintotheJacuzzi,stillclutchingherrightshoulder,butendedupfallingflatonherassonthemarblefloor.Thesoundofhertailboneagainstthesurfacereverberatedintheroom.Shesqueezedhereyesshut,shakingsilentlywithpain.Iwasabouttotakeastepbackandletherhavehermoment—SailorwouldkillmeifIburstintosavetheday—whenInoticedsilenttearsrunningdownhercheeks.
Turnaroundandwalkaway.Notyourproblem,saidthedevilonmyshoulder,sameassholethathadwantedmetoruboneoutinthehallwaytothesightofhermasturbating.
Theangelsomehowmanagedtopulltheducttapefromhismouthandsaid,Youcan’tbethatmuchofadick.Besides,it’sSailor.
Hewasright.ItwasSailor,andinmyworld,Sailordeservedbetter.
Annoyed,Ishovedthedooropen,trompingin.
“Hunter!Jesus!Whatareyoudoing?”Shewentfromsadtooutragedinasecond,tryingtocoverhertitswithherarms,butshehadzeromovementinherrightshoulder.IhookedmyhandsunderherarmpitsfrombehindandbroughtherbacktoasittingpositionontheedgeoftheJacuzzi,rippingabathrobefromitshookandwrappingitaroundhershoulders.Herhandsstilllayprotectivelyoverherchest,andherteethwerechattering.Ididn’tknowhowtobreakittoherpolitelythatI’dalreadyseenhertits(andtheywerewaynicerthanI’dimagined,andofcourseIimaginedthemonthereg).
Also,ifIweretodefendmyvirtueinherposition,I’dprobablystartbycrossingmylegs,becauseshehadanice,delicatefluffofredhairnestledbetweenherthighsthatIcouldn’tunsee.Itwasn’taraging,curlybushthatscreamedneglectandlice.Justafew,softhairsIwantedtobrushawaysoftlyasIateherpussylikeIn-N-Outafteranightofpartying.
Redirectthatthought,asswipe.
“Justgothome.Whathappenedtoyourshoulder?”Isquatteddown,feelingthestrainofmypants’fabricagainstmykneesanddick.AtthismomentImissedlivinginThomBrownesweatpants.
“Youhadnorighttoburstinhere!”Hereyesflaredwildly.Sheclutchedtheedgesoftherobe,tryingtocovermoreofherself.Ihelpedherbywrappingitaroundherandtakingastepback,lookingsidewaysatsomedecorativewoodenlogsittingontheedgeofthechampagne-huedJacuzzi.
“Wasn’tplanningonit.ThenIheardyoumoaninginpainwhenIwenttolook.”
“Youshouldn’thavelooked!”sheshrieked.
“Thedoorwasgoddamnopen,aingealdian,”Isnapped,turningmygazebacktoher.
Westaredateachother,panting.Ididn’tknowwhyIcalledherwhatIdid,butitmademewanttopuncheverythingintheroom,startingwithmyownface.Irealized,asIstaredatherreallyannoyingface(whichneverfailedtogetmyassintotrouble),thatI’dmissedbeinginthesameroomwithher.
“Youwerecrying.And,nooffense,butthatbufflinebacker’sshoulderdoesn’tfittherestofyourbody.We’retakingyoutourgentcare.”Imadeamovetowardher,andsheraisedherlegjerkily,kickingmeintheboys.Igroaned,foldedintwo,andheldmynuts,nearlyfoamingatthemouthwithpain.
“Whatthefuck!”Iyelled.
“Shit.”Shegasped,raisingherhandsinapology.“Ididn’tmeanto.Ithoughtyou’dtakeastepbackifIkickedtheair.”
“Thatwasn’tair!”
“Sorry.Imiscalculated.”
“Aimingisliterallyallyouneedtobegoodat.You’reafuckingOlympicarcher!”
“Technicallynotyet,andyouhavealotofballs.”
“Well,youhavenot-muchtits.”
“Mybreastsarefine.”
“Idon’tbelieveyou.Letmehaveataste.”
Ilookedupfrommyoffendednuts,noticingthatshewasfull-blownsmiling,andthatIwasfull-blownfucked.
HowdidInotrealizeSailorBrennanhadthemostamazinggoddamnsmileintheentiregoddamnworld?Sheradiated.Herfaceglowedlikecandlelight,hereyesgleamed,andthatmouth…herlipsweren’tthinorboringatall.TheywerefullandpinkandhadadustingoforangefrecklesthatIwantedtodevour.Violently.
Dustingoforangefreckles.Listentoyourself,fucker.IwascheesingsohardallIneededwaswineandsomecrackerstocreatetheperfectpicnicscenario.
ThetroublewithSailorwasshehadtheonethingIwanted—andnotanassthathadseenasurgeonandahundredsquatsaday,incaseyouwerewondering.Buttalent,realandrawandtendedto.Herexcellenceburstfromherfingertips.Shewassharp,laser-focused,fullybloomed.Unstoppable.
Orwasshe…
Sailor’ssituationsuddenlycameintosharprelief.
Advilseverymorning.
Missinggymtime.
DevelopingaVinDieselshoulderovernight.
Yeah,bitchwasn’tgoingtogetoutofthisone.
“Oh…uh,what’sup,Hunt?I’msorryIkickedyouinthenuts,buttobefair,youwalkedinonmecompletelynaked.IswearIdon’tneedurgentcare.I—”
Withoutaword,Itackledher,hoistedheruponmyshoulder,andwrappedmyarmaroundherlowerass,carryingheroutofthebathroom.Shesuckedinabreath,toosoretoclawatmybackinprotest.Iwassurprisedtofindherskinsilkyeverywhere.Thebacksofherthighswerelikepressedvelvet,sosoftIwantedtosinkmyteethintohercalfandnibblemywayuptoherpussy.SheobjectedtheentiretimeImarchedtoherroomandplacedheronherbed.NextthingIdidwasopenherclosetandripoutanAntiSocialSocialClubhoodieandapairofbaggypants.Iturnedaroundandstarteddressingher.
“Whatareyoudoing?”ShewheezedwhenIputherlegthroughherpants.Shewaskickingtheairagain,frantic.
“You’regoingtourgentcare,”Iclipped.
“I’mfine.It’sjustalittleswollen.”
Shetriedtowormoutofherpants.Icouldn’tbelieveIwasnowactivelykeepingagirlinherclothes.Thiswashell.Iwassureofit.
“Sorry,doll.”Itsked,finishingwiththepantsandmovingontoputtingahoodieonthosesurprisinglyterrifictitties.“Eitheryouneedsomethingforthatshoulderoryou’regoingtoturnintoamutantmonster.I’vewatchedenoughhorrorflickstoknowyou’dturnatthestrokeofmidnight,andIdon’twanttobehereinthemorningwhenyoumakemeyourbreakfast.Although,letitbeknown,I’dbehappytoeatyououtwheneveryouplease.”
Sheyelpedinagony.Shecouldn’tevenlaughshewasinsomuchpain.Jesus.
Ifoundhercarkeys,shovedherintothepassengerseat,andbuckledheruplikeshewasakid.Theentiretime,Sailorthreatenedtokillmeinnumerousways,someofthemverycreativeandextremelypainful.IansweredcalmlywithallthewaysI’dwantedtokillherwhenwefirstmovedintogether,includingthesunset-in-the-BahamasstabbingandhurlingherfromtheEiffelTower.Itwasbeyondmehowsomeonewouldbesoobsessedwithsomething—gettingtotheOlympics,inhercase—thatthey’dputtheirhealthatrisk.
Afterweweredonefantasizingaboutkillingeachother,sherefusedtoshutupabouthowthiscouldsetherbackwithhertraining.Turningontheradiodidn’twork,soIdecidedtochangethetopic.
“Youknowatfirst,IlookedthroughthedoorbecauseIthoughtyouwereflickingthebean.”
Sheshotmealookinmyperiphery,hereyesfulloffireandwrath.
“Youcantellalotaboutapersonbytheirmasturbationchoice.”Ishrugged,drivingtheemptystreetsofBoston.Theywerebecomingfamiliar.“Rubbingoneoffintheho-boilerbodeswellforyourconservativepersonality,youknow?Youseemedlikethetypetodoitwithabowlofchocolate-dippedstrawberriesbyyourside,readinganiceDanielleSteelhardcover.”
“Idon’tmasturbate,”shesaid,staringmedowndefiantly,daringmetochallengethat.
Ibelievedher.Sheseemedlikethetypeofchicktobetoobusytoexploresex,forallitswonders.
Irubbedmystubbledjaw.“Becauseyoudon’tknowhow,orbecauseyoudon’tcareaboutgettingoff?”
“Both,”shesurprisedmebyadmitting.
“Icanhelpwiththeformer.”Iclearedmythroat.
“Soniceofyoutooffer.”
“Thatwasn’tano,”Ipointedout.
“Itwasn’tayes,either.I’mjusttryingtotakemymindoffthefactthatI’mabouttogetalectureaboutnottreatingthisinflammationearlier.Ihopethesteroidshotwillhelp.Ihaveanearlypracticetomorrow.”
Bitchwasstillplanningtotraininafewhours.Unbelievable.
“It’sjustfuckingarchery,”Ihissed.“Youshootnothing.It’snotevenarealOlympicsport.It’stheshitpeoplewatchtofallasleep.Perspective.”
“I’mtrulysorryyou’veneverfoundsomethingyoucareabout,Hunter,butyoudon’tgettojudgeme.”
“Ijustdid.”
“Shutup.”Shescowled.
“Makeme.”
“How?”
Iwiggledmybrows,andshedroppedherheadtotheheadrestbehindher.“Ugh.Yourmindisdirtierthanajunkyard.”
Ikeptmymouthshuttheentiretimewewereinurgentcare.Sailorgotasteroidshot,painkillers,andhadhershoulderscannedandchecked.Thesterndoctorwhosawustoldhersheneededtostartphysicaltherapy,realphysicaltherapy,oncetheswellingwasundercontrol.Hegaveheratleasttwoweeksofftraining.Shedulyagreedandactedlikethegoodytwo-shoesI’dthoughtshewasbeforewemovedintogether.
Butaswewalkedbacktothecar,shesaid,“Canyoubelieveit?HeactuallythoughtIcouldtaketwoweeksoff.”
“Becauseyouare,”Ireplied,notmissingabeat.
WhydidIcare?Why?Why?Why?
“Absolutelynot.”
“Ishouldbetheonesendingyourparentsaweeklyreport,”Imuttered.
Shelaughed,andthenclutchedhershoulder.
Seeingherlikethatmademeviolent.
Athome,Iputhertobedandwatchedasshecrashed.Thepainkillerwhoopedherassgood.Shewasdownintwoseconds.
Herlastwordswere,“Hunt,it’skindofcreepythatyou’restaringatmelikethis.”
Ihigh-keyagreed,butIcouldn’thelpit.ShecalledmeHuntandtoldmydaIwasawesomeandalwaysknewwhatIfeltlikeeatingwhensheorderedDoorDash,evenifwehadn’tspokenallday.
Shehadsomuchpassion,andIhadnone.YetIjerkedoffthreetimesaday,andshedidn’tevenneedtogetdickedregularly.
SailorBrennanconfusedme.
Ifellasleeponhercarpetedbedroomfloor,likeagoddamntweaker.
Thenextmorning,Sailorcameoutofherroomwearingherragstrainingclothes.Iwasstandingbehindthekitchenisland,sippingacupofcoffeeindesignertrackpantsandahoodie.
Idraggedasteamingcupofcoffeeherwayasapre-peaceoffering,beforeIunleashedhellonher.Sailorsmiledgratefully,takingasipandhoistingherarcheryequipmentoverherinjured,slightly-less-swollenshoulder.Totaldemon.IfIwereakinggoingtowar,I’dwanthertoleadmyarmy.Bitchwoulddestroyanythinginherpathtogetwhatshewanted.
“Thanksagainforyesterday.Ioweyouahugeone.AndI’mgoingtostartbytellingyourdadIthinkheshouldloosentheleashonyou.Youreallyareprettyrad.”
Hergreeneyeswidenedwhenshetalked,likeakidtellingastory.
“Takeamentalpictureofthismoment,aingealdian,becauseit’sabouttotakeasharpturnfortheworse.”Igrabbedmyphonefromthemarblecounterandtosseditintoherhands.Ijerkedmychintowardit.
“It’sunlocked.Checkmycalllog.”
Sailorhitthegreenbuttonandlookedatmylastcall.
“That’sJunsu’snumber.”Hereyesflared.Herentirefacetwisted.Firstinconfusion,followedcloselybyshock,realization,andfinally,rage
“Icalledtolethimknowwhatwasupwithyourshoulder.Textedhimapictureofthedoctor’sorders.You’reouttwoweeksSorry,babygirl.”
Therewassilence.
Adisproportionallygoodamountofit.
Theuncomfortable,I’m-about-to-fuck-you-upkindofsilence.
IfIhadtheprivilegeoffamouslastwords,they’dbe,Sailor’stitsareaten.Iknowtheydon’tlookitinoversizedhoodiesandDriFitshirts,butit’strue.
Justthen,thewomanfromthemorningshowontheflatTVscreenbehindusblurtedfromthelivingroom,“AndnowIhaveaspecialguest.Withustodayisthegorgeous,talented,young—didImentiongorgeous?Ha-ha-ha—archer,LanaAlder!”
Thecamerazoomedout,andIsawthatthewoman,whosportedmoreplasticthanTheContainerStore,wassittinginfrontofachickwholookedtobemyage,maybeslightlyolder,andworeagreenminidress.Realtalk?Shewasbangin’.ThinkMargotRobbiewithamean-assrackandlegstorivalSofiaVergara’s.
ThetwostartedchattingaboutLana’supcomingmovie,whichhonestlysoundedlikeahotmess,andexcitinglovelife,which—alsohonestly—soundedanythingbutexciting.Theywerefiveminutesinbeforetherewasanymentionofarchery.SailorwassomesmerizedbytheTV,sheseemedtoforgetshewasabouttogutmewithoneofherarrows.
Thehostsaid,“Ihearthat,otherthanthetwoveteranwomenarchersrepresentingtheUS,JoannaDinghamandMaryTurner,it’satightcompetitionbetweenyouandBoston-basedSailorBrennan.ThatmeansyoumightrepresentusintheOlympicsinTallinnnextyear—aswellasbeinganaccomplishedactressandmodel,andowningyourownonlineclothingstore!”
Thehostess’cloyingsweetnessgavemesugarpoisoning.Iwonderedifshepukedrainbows.Also,thisLanachickhadmorebusinessventuresthanRichardBranson.NowonderSailorwasbitterabouther.
Lanagiggledinavoicehighenoughtobreakawindow,showingamouthfullofcappedteeth.“Oh,Ipromiseyou,Iwillbetherenextyear.Unfortunately,MissBrennanlacksthefocusandcharismatorisetothisoccasion,atleastinmyhumbleopinion.I’mgoingtomaketheUSproud,andI’mgoingtodoitwearingmynewlineofjumpsuits,solookoutforit!”
ItooktheremoteandturnedtheTVoff.Withoutwarning,Sailorpickeduphershitanddartedtothedoor.Iwasfaster.Ipounced,blockingherwayoutwithmybody.
“Twoweeks,”Irepeated.“Getyourassbackinbed.Pronto.”
Ratherthanansweringmewithactualwords,Sailortookastepback,grabbedherbow,andpluckedoutanarrow,herfacevoidofemotion.Shewasvivid,loose-limbed.Also,completelyderanged.ButIsawthehuntresswithinher.
Shewasadaringlittlething,andthatmademewanttofuckherevenmore.
“Don’tyoufuckingdare,”Isaiddryly.Iwasbailingonworkforher,andifshewasgoingtoshootme—literallygoddamnshootme—weweregoingtohaveaproblem.
Sheraisedthebow,usingherinjuredside,anddrewthearrowinaperfectlysmoothmotion,squeezingoneeyeshutasshezeroedinonme.Thestringpressedagainsthermouth.
“Sailor.”
“Threesecondstomovefromthedoor,Hunter.Three.”
“Sorry,aingealdian,butIthinkyoujustmettheonemotherfuckerwhoisdumbenoughnottobescaredofyouoryourfamily.”
“Two.”
“Meh.Youdon’thaveitinyou.”ButwasIconvincingherormyself?
“One.”
Shereleasedthearrow.
Irepeat:Bitch.Released.The.Arrow.
Iwatched,paralyzedfromtheneckdown,asitspuntowardme.Icouldswearitwasgoingtonailmythroattothedoor.Itmissedbyaninch,spearingthedoorrightabovemyshoulder.Swallowing,Iglancedtomyleft,realizingthearrowhadcaughtsomeofmyhoodie’sfabricandwasphysicallynailingmetothedoor.
Shedrewanotherarrow,nonchalantasallfucks.
“Youmissed.”Inarrowedmyeyes,staringherdeadintheeye.
“Fool.”Shesmiledback.“Inevermiss.”
“I’dratherbetheonenailingyouagainstthedoor.”IflashedheraJoker-stylepsychoticsmirk,myragetowardmypint-sized,stubbornroommatespiralingintoapoolofmoreunidentifiedfeelings.
Thrill.Curiosity.Horniness.(Fine,therewasalwayshorniness.Sueme.)
Shepoppedherhealthyshoulderup.“Should’vethoughtofthatbeforeyoucalledmeCarrotTop.”
“Youlittlesh—”
Pluck.
Shereleasedthesecondarrow,thistimegettingtherightsideofmyhoodie.Iwasnowpinnedfrombothsides.Sheloweredherbow,stridingtowardmewithherchinup,aqueenobservingatraitorthrownatherfeet.Mydickwasabouttoslipoutofmysweatpantsandcurlaroundheranklelikeaneagerpuppy.Aweirdimage,butthesentimentwasclear.
Sailorstoppedwithhermouthclosetomine,andIcouldn’tdenytheattraction.Itwasthere—alive,swelling,roaringitsthree-headed,monstrouscrown,cuttingmeopenandbleedingmedry.Iwasonthebrinkofgoddamnmadness,causedbythemostunassuming,innocent,dorkygirlontheplanet.
Fuck.My.Life.
“I’llreleaseyouifyoupromisetostepawayfromthedoor.”Hermouthmovedagainstmine.
Idon’tthinksherealizedjusthowcloseweweretokissingterritory.HowIcoulddemolishher.Effortlessly,Iflexedmyshoulders,causingherarrowstodroptothefloorwithayieldingclink.Myexpressiondead,Igrabbedherwaist,turnedheraround,andslammedherbackagainstthedoor,gettinginherfacenow.
“Better.”Ibrushedmylipsdownhernose,pausinghalfaninchfromhermouth.“Much,muchbetter.”
Igrabbedherwrists,bunchingthemtogetherandpinningthemaboveherhead.Shewincedatthefullmotionofhershoulder.Iwantedtopunchmyselfforforgetting,buthonestly,Iwasn’tevensureofmybirthdateatthemoment.
“Justsowe’reclear,youmaybemybabysitter,butyoudon’tcalltheshots.Youdonotbossmearound,youdonotmakestupid-assdecisionswithyourbody.Finally,youdonotfuckinghuntme.I’mthehunterhere,sweetheart.Andyou?Thegoddamnprey.”
Hereyesblazedwithfire,herjawlocked.Iwantedtostepintoherpupilsandletthemkillme.Shewasawarprisoneracceptingherfatetodieahero,withoutbetrayingonenationalsecret.
“YournamemaybeHunter,butmakenomistakes—you’llnevercatchme.”
Ismirked,trailingmyindexfingerfromherjawdowntoherneck.Shewrithedagainstmybody,thespacebetweenusshrinking,andnotjustbecauseofme.
“Alreadydid,aingealdian.Wanttoknowsomethingelse?Iwilldomesticateyou,too.”
“Letgoofme.”Herlipsthinned,hervoicedancingwithbarelycontrolledtemper.“Ihavetogo.YouheardLanaAlder.Shewantsmyspot.I’mnotgoingdownwithoutafight.”
“You’regoingallthewaydowntoretirementifyoufuckyourshoulderup.”
“It’snotforyoutodecide.”
“Thedoctordecided.”
“Youdon’tunderstand!”Shestomped,hercheekspinking.
IfiguredtherewasastorybehindherandtheAlderchick,butnowwasn’tthetimetodelveintoit.Sailor’sbreathingbecamelabored.Sheballedherhandsintofistsandjerkedaround,tryingtobreakfreefrommygrasp.
“Sailor?”
“What?”
“Now,”Ienunciated.
“Nowwhat?”Shebaredherteeth,tryingtokickme.
Theneedtotamehermademybloodboil.Iwantedtofighthertothegroundanddevourher,endingherandendingme.
Whoa.What?
“I’dliketocashinonthatkissnow.”
“What?”Sailor’seyeswerethebiggest,greenest,funkiestthingsI’deverseen.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Shehadn’tforgottenthekiss.Iknewbecause,intheraretimeswewereinthesameroom,Isometimescaughtherstaringatmylipsandwondering.Iwondered,too.Webothwonderedallthefuckingtime.
“You’reaterribleactress.Granted,probablystillbetterthanLanaAlder,butdreadfulnonetheless.”Ileanedintoher.Ourbreathsmingled.Mintytoothpastefromher,coffeeandcinnamongumfromme.
“We…wecan’tkiss.”Sailorsquirmed,hertitsaccidentallybrushingagainstmytorsothroughourrespectiveclothes.Hernippleswerepuckered.“We’refighting!”
“Allthebetter.PissingyouoffismyonlysourceofentertainmenthereinBoston,andthiskissismyout-of-jailcard.Myinsurance.”
“Yourmonthlypaymentwillgoupifyouuseyourinsurance,youknow.”Shequirkedonegingereyebrow.“Thenextonewillbehardertoget.”
“GuessI’llhavetotakemyfuckingchances.”Ierasedthetwoinchesleftbetweenus,crashingmymouthonhers.
Shegaspedintoourkiss,andIletgoofherwrists,knowingdamnwellshewasn’tgoinganywhere.
Sailorletherarmsdanglebesideherbody.Igrabbedthesideofherface,pryingherlipsopenwithmytongue,groaninginpent-upfrustrationthathadbeenbuildingforweeks,wrestlingmytonguedeeperintohermouth.Iwasmetwithnoobjection.Sailor’sbodywentlimp,compliant.Shewassurprisinglysubmissive.Thepreyaccepteditsfatefornow.Sheopenedupformelikeaflower—mouth,chest,legsspreadingapart,blooming,beggingforsunrays,meetingmytonguewithhersstrokeforstroke,thrustforthrust.Shepulledatmylowerlipwithherteeth,hungry,andIranmyhandsupanddownherneckandface.Shetastedsweet,restless.
Shewassodrunkonourkiss,Iknewshewasasecondawayfromfallingflatonherass.Igrabbedthebacksofherthighsroughly,hoistingherlegsupandwrappingthemaroundmywaist,pressingheragainstthedoor.
Shemoanedasoftprotestatthesametimeherwarmpussymetmyragingcockthroughourclothes,grindingagainstme.
WekissedfortenminutesstraightbeforeSailorrealizedshewasgrindingagainstmyhard-onlikeanambitiousnight-shiftstripperpayingherwaythroughgradschool.Icouldpracticallyfeelherpussylipsclutchingmyshaftthroughourclothes.Shepulledawayandburiedherfaceinmyneck,shakinglikealeaf.Ourheartsslammedagainsteachother,andmaybeitwasbecauseIhadn’thadanyactioninoveramonth,butthekissmademeblackoutalittle.Itwasaeuphorickindofdizziness,likeI’djusttakenabenzoandwasunsurewhetherithadkickedinornot.Iwantedtokissheragain,butIdidn’twanttooverwhelmher.Iusuallygotagoodfeelofwhatchickswantedfromme,butSailorwasimpossibletoread.
Knowingshecouldspendthenextcouplemonthswithherfaceinmyhoodie—DeathbyMortification:Girl,18,DiesinHotRoommate’sArms—Ikissedherneck,theonlypartofherreachablefromthatangle.
“Junsuisgoingtokillme.”Herwordsmeltedintomyhoodie,muffledbyit.Wasitjustme,orwereourheartbeatsfreakishlyloud?
“Why?Youbangingtheoldsport?”
Nocomment.
NowthatIwasputtingmythreeworkingbraincellstouse,Sailorandhertrainerwerekindoftight.IwouldexpectitfrompeoplewhohadOlympicambitionstogether,anditwasn’tthefirsttimeshe’dmadeitsoundlikehedidn’twantherhangingoutwithdudes.
Sailorpushedmeaway,keepingherheaddown.Shepickeduphershitandflungherselfbacktoherroom,probablytocheckontheinternetifshecouldgetpregnantfromdry-humping.IwonderedwhatwaswrongwithmethatIwasobsessingoverhergoddamnshoulderwhenDawantedtomakeconfettioutofmyskin,Cillianwantedtospreadsaidconfettiintheharbor,andSylliepossiblywantedtominceallofusintomeatballs.
Nottomention,Istillwasn’ttakinganycallsfromMom.Somesubconscious,petty-as-fuckpartofmewasn’tcoolwithherdumpingmyassinrandomcornersoftheworld,makingmeotherpeople’sresponsibility—especiallyknowingwhatIdidaboutwhereIcamefrom.
“Istillneedtotalktohiminperson,”sheyelledfromherroom.
“I’llcomewithyoutomakesureyoudon’tdoanythingstupid.”Iarrangedmypackageinmysweatpants,fishingformyphoneandcheckingit.
FourunansweredcallsfromDa.
TwofromCillian.
Sixtextmessages.
Athair:Iknewyoucouldn’tbetrusted.
Athair:Wherethehellareyou?
Athair:Iftheanswerisinaditchafteranorgy,justknowIwon’tbebailingyououtthistimearound.
Athair:I’mdonewithyou,Hunter.DONE.
Cillian:YoutakedumbandprettytoanOlympiclevel.
Cillian:LegallyBoned.Whydidn’tBeaukissmelikethat?
Mymindrummagedthrougheverycorner,cell,anddrawertofindtheanswertothatnaggingquestionduringthejourneytothearcheryclub,whileHunterdroveandvoice-textedhisfriendsfromCalifornia.
Mybodywasstillsewingitselfbacktogetherafterburstingwithpleasureatmyroommate’stouch.NoonehadevertouchedmethewayHunterFitzpatrickdid—liketheworldwasendingandwehadtocramallourpassionintoonedefinedmoment.ItterrifiedmehowseductivethemanIsharedaroofwithwas.Becausethatkisshadseemedgenuine,ardent,andearnest,butIknewHunterwasn’tanyofthosethings.Infact,that’swhathadlandedhimundermysupervisioninthefirstplace.
IhadtostepawayfrommyHunter-inducedfog.
IwonderedwhyIwasn’tmoreworriedabouttheupcomingshowdownwithJunsu,whowasgoingtoripmeanewoneforhavingtheboytextandcallhimaboutmyshoulder.
IwonderedwhyIcouldn’tevenbringmyselftofreakoutaboutLanaAlder,whoseemedtobeputtingsomePRmileagebetweenusandwaslikelythefrontrunnerfortheOlympics.
IwonderedwhatHunterhadthoughtaboutmynakedbodyyesterday,whenhe’dfoundmeshiveringandcrying,tryingtostepintothehottubtowarmmyshouldermusclessoIcouldmassagetheswellingaway.
Promptlyafterwonderingallthosethings,Ibegantodevelopaheadache.
Iwasn’tnaive.IknewIdidn’tchartinHunter’slifeoutsidethelonelyBostonbubblehisfatherhadlockedhimin.Outofthewallsofthedowntownhigh-rises,collegeassignments,andspreadsheets,hehadfriendsaplenty.Hookups.Instagrammodelsheflirtedwith.Abuzzingsociallife,hobbies,andintereststhatdidn’tincludeme.Hegavemethetimeofdaybecausehedidn’thaveanythingelsetodo.Buthewasgoingtoforgetaboutmeapproximatelytwohoursafterourdealwasdone.
Focus.Headbackinthegame,Sailor.
Twoweekswithouttrainingweren’tgoingtokillme,right?IcouldusethemtofinallyanswertheemailsfromCrystal,thebloodthirstyPRladyGeraldFitzpatrickhadsentmyway.
IchancedalookatHunter,whowasrecordingavoicemessageonhisphone.
“Nah,man,I’mstraight.Justkeepingmyheaddownandwaitingforshittoblowover.Celibacyisgoingwell,too.I’mreallygettingintouchwithmyself.Especiallymyrighthand.”
Pause.
“ThankfuckthegirlsherearenomatchfortheCaliproduce.Mydickwouldbeonsuicidewatch.”
Hunterkilledtheengineinfrontofthearcheryclub,hisfacestillilluminatedbythelightfromhisphone.Ididn’tknowwhethertolaughortomaimhim.That’swhathehadtosayaftermakingoutwithme?Thatthegirlshereweren’tworthhishard-on?BecauseIhadsufficientevidencetoproveotherwise.
“Thanksfortherideandthedelightfulconversation,”Imumbledsarcasticallyatthesametimeheaddressedme,hisvoicetaciturn.“YouhavetenminutestobreakittoMasterDudebrothatyourassisonatwo-weeksabbatical.Non-negotiable.Ifhegivesyoutroubleaboutme,justtellhimyouweretoosmashedonpainkillers,soIhadtotakemattersintomyownhands.Thereisalsoasexualinnuendothere,CT.”
“Shocking.TakingatourinyourmindisprobablylikevisitingthePlayboymansion.”
“Please.Playboyistame.Anddead.TryXnnx.”
IrealizedwithasinkingfeelingthatIwasCTwhenHunterwasinasourmood,andaingealdianwhenhewantedtocopafeel.God,Ihatedhim.
Westaredateachother.Heraisedhiseyebrows,asiftosay,Areyouwaitingforthemessiah?Leave.
IhadamillionthingsIwantedtosaytohim.
Isaidnothing.
“WhenIagreedtobecomeyourtrainer,Ithoughtyoucaredaboutarcherymorethanboys.”Junsu’swhite,pointyteethflashedinmenace,eagertodrawblood.Hestoodbehindhisdesk,tanfingersspreadagainstthelightwoodliketalons.Wewerecirclingaroundthesametwosubjects:mygoingtourgentcaretotreatmyinflamedshoulderwithouttellinghim,andHunter.It’dbeenfifteenminutes,andIwasgrowingtired,hungry,andfrustrated.Junsuwastheonewho’dinsistedIcontinuetrainingafterIcomplainedaboutmyshoulder.Nowhewasupsethehadn’tbeentheretomonitorthecheckup?
AsforHunter,Junsuwentballisticwhenheheardtheboywastheonewho’dtakenmetourgentcare.HeevenimpliedHuntermust’vetakenmetoadoctorwhomisdiagnosedmyinjurypurposefullytohindermytraining.
“Idocareaboutarcherymorethanboys!”Igloweredathim,theaccusationcuttingintomeafterthemake-outsessionthismorning.
“Thenwhatwereyoudoingwithhimyesterday?”
Howwasithisbusiness?Idecidedtohumorhim,fornootherreasonthanthefactIknewJunsuwasn’tsomepervwhohadideasaboutme.Heneversawmethatway.Iwascertainofthat.AndalthoughI’dpromisedGeraldFitzpatricktokeepourdealunderwraps,IfiguredIcouldtrusttheonepersonwhowastheclosesttomeoutsidemyfriendsandfamily.
Afterall,GeraldhadnoqualmsaboutspreadingtherumorIwasdatinghisson.
“I’lltellyousomethingaboutHunter,butyoucan’ttellanyone.”Iletoutashortbreath,lookingaroundus,eventhoughIknewwewerealone.
Junsuhalf-nodded,dragginghisfingersalonghisdesk.Sweatypads,Inoticed.Hewasnervous.Why?
“Youneedtopromisenottorepeatthis.”Istabbedmyindexintheair,feelingmyarmpitsdampenwithguilt.Iwasbreakingapromisebytellinghim,andIneverbrokemypromises.ButIcouldn’tloseJunsu.MyOlympicdreamwasdriftingawayfromme,oneinchatatime,sailingintothearmsofLanaAlder,who’dpromisedtotaketheOlympicsfrommefornootherreasonthanshecould.
She’dnevercaredforthissport,forthecraft,onlyaboutruiningitforme.
“Promise,”Junsuspatthewordlikeitfilledhismouthwithsand.“Nowtalk.”
ItoldhimaboutmyagreementwithGeraldFitzpatrick,aboutHunter’ssexvideo,howHuntandIwerebecomingfriends,butnotlovers.Iomittedthekiss,becauseitwasapartofaone-offagreementInowconsideredfulfilled.Junsupinchedthedelicateskinofhistemple,mullingtheinformationinhishead.
“Itisnotexactly,howtoput?Ethical.”
Hisphonelitupwithanincomingcall.Heflippeditoverandscowledatme.
“It’skosher.Fitzpatrickofferedtotakemeunderhiswing,likemanybusinessmendowithpoliticiansandsportspeople.Itwillbemutuallybeneficial.We’renotbreakinganyrules.”
Iwasbigonrules—celebratedthem.Ihadachiponmyshoulderfrombeingbunchedtogetherwithmydadandbrother.
“Butyousoldyoursoul.”Hefrowned,hisexpressionlikealoadedgun.
“Hunterisagoodguywhoneedsabreak.I’mhelpinghim.”
Truthbetold,rightnow,hewastheonedoingmostofthehelping.
“Idon’tlikeit,”Junsusaid.“Atall.Iwantyououtofhisapartment.”
“No,”Iheardmyselfanswer.Mycareerwasontheline—everythingI’deverwanted—andhereIwas,refusingthenumber-onearcherymasterinthecountry.“Ialreadymadethisdeal,andI’mnotgoingtobailontheFitzpatricks.We’llagreetodisagreeonthatpoint.”
Junsuconsideredmywords,watchinghisfingersonthedesk.Itlookedlikehehadagedovernight.Hisfacewasmarredwithwrinkleslikebattlescars.Itoccurredtomehemightbegoingthroughsomething,too,thathewasanactualhuman,withdreamsandexpectationsandheartbreaks.
“Verywell.I’lltakethisintoconsideration.Inthemeantime,youwillcontinuetrainingasusual.”
“Junsu…”Itookabreath,shakingmyhead.“Ican’t.”
“ThisisthewayItrain.Intruth,youcannotaffordtwoweeksoff.”
“ButI—”
“Youwilltrain,oryouwilllookforanothertrainer.”
“See,that’swhereyou’rewrong.”IheardavoicebehindmybackasthedoortoJunsu’sofficeswungopen.Hunterswaggeredin,loopingmycarkeysaroundhisfinger.
Iclosedmyeyesanddrewaraggedbreath.Please,God,no.
“She’sonatwo-weekrestperiod.Doctor’sorders.”HuntertoweredaheadandsomechangeoverJunsu,evenfromhisplacebythedoor,acrosstheroom.“C’mon,Sailor.Let’shittheroad.”
“You.”JunsunarrowedhiseyesatHunter,hisentirebodyshakingwithquiet,simmeringrage.“Youtookhertoadoctorshedoesn’tknowlikeit’sabutchershop.Youdon’tknowwhosheis,herathleticprofile.HowshouldIknowyoudon’twanttoobstructherOlympicquest?”
“How?”Hunterblinked,makingashowoftreatingJunsulikeaworld-classidiot.Hewasgoodatit—ahurricaneyouwantedtochase,jam-crammedwithcharisma,humor,andself-assurance.“Hmm,let’ssee.Firstofall,I’mnotapsycho.Second,yeah,again,I’mnotagoddamnpsycho.Thirdly,whywouldIwanttohinderSailor’sefforts?AndevenifIwould,becauseI’manungodlyassholeofmassiveproportions,whywouldIgothroughtheincredible,excruciatingeffortofbribingadoctorintobreakinghisHippocraticOath?”
Heletthatsinkinforasecondbeforecontinuing.“Besides,it’sonlytwoweeks,nottwomonths.ThingscouldgetfarworseforherifshecontinuesusingthatHulk-sizedshoulder.”Hunterjerkedhischin.“HowdoIknowyou’renottryingtohinderherOlympicefforts?”Hefoldedhisarmsoverhischest,squintingatJunsucomically.“Makinghertraininthisstateandpushingheraround.”
Tomysurprise,Junsubegantocough,takingagoodtensecondstobreatheregularlyagain.
“Areyouaccusingmeofsomething?Sheneedstotrain.”
“Sheneedstorest,”Huntercountered,steppingdeeperintotheroom.“Andifyousuggestotherwiseonemoretime,orthreatentoquittrainingherbecauseshe’sfollowingdoctor’sorders,IswearI’lltakethistothelocalnewsandtelleveryasswipewhogivesacrapthatyou’reputtingyourathletesatrisk.”
ThatshutJunsuupfast.Igotupandsnatchedmybagbeforethetwoofthemdecidedtoexchangemorethanjustwords.“Stop,bothofyou.Junsu,you’reright.Ican’taffordtakingtimeoff.ButHunterisalsoright.Myshoulderisuselessrightnow,andthingscangetmuchworseifIdon’tletitrest.Ineedtoattendphysicaltherapyandgetsteroidshots.Toputyourmindatease,I’llgotoanotherdoctor,getasecondopinion.”Ishothimanapologeticsmile.“IpromiseIwilltakenolongerthantwoweeks,andinthemeantime,I’llwatchmyvideosandmakenotesaboutmystrengthsandweaknesses.”
“Yourmainweakness,”Junsuspat,hiseyesstilltrainedonHunterbehindme,“isstandinginfrontofme.”
“Helicoptertrainer.”Hunterthrewacinnamongumintohismouth,chewingpurposefullyloudly.“Clam-jammingherain’tgonnamakeheraimanybetter.”
“Stop.”IpushedHuntertowardthedoor,pivotingbacktoJunsuonelasttime.
“I’llcometomorrowsowecantalk,okay?We’llfigureitout.”
Abeatofsilencethatstretchedbetweenus,abouttosnaplikearubberbandagainstrawskin.
Finally,Junsunodded.“Keephimawayfromhere.”
“Iwill,”Ipromised,shovingHunteroutthedoorandclosingitgently.
Theminutewewereoutside,Ithrewmyhandsintheair,wideningmyeyesathim,awaitingexplanation.
“IsaidI’dgiveyoutenminutes.TwentypassedbeforeIgotmyassoutofthecar.Twenty-fivewhenIheardhimyellingatyoufromacrossthegoddamnhallway.Remindme,howbaddowewantthisOlympicgig?”
Sincewhenwasthereawe?
Irolledmyeyesandstartedfortheexit.“Veryfreakingbad.”
Huntercaughtmystrideeasily,andIfeltmyangersubsiding.AsmuchasIwantedtokeepmydistancefromhim,Ihadnoconcretereasontodislikehim.Onthecontrary,hewaskindofawesome,inhisownroundaboutway.
“Letmebuyyoubrunch.”Hunterdrapedhisarmovermyshoulder.Itwasmuscular,warm,andprotective.Ithoughtaboutallthegirlswho’dsleptwithhim,howhisweightmust’vefeltontopofthem.Hissheermanhoodstirredme.Ididn’tswathisarmaway,eventhougheveryfiberinmybodysuggestedIshould.Stronglyso.
Actually,Icouldusesomeproteintorebuildallthattorn-upmuscle.
“Icandothebuying,”Isaid.“You’vedonealotformeinthepastmonth,andIdon’tthinkI’veshownenoughgratitude.”
IsawHunteropeninghismouthinmyperipheryandheldahandup.“No,sexualfavorsarenotacurrencyIamoffering,oraccepting.”
“Toobad.Sexisthebitcoinofourgeneration.”
“Itisactuallytheoldestformofpaymentincivilization.Prostitution,anyone?”Irolledmyeyes,butstillsmiled.
“Why,yes,I’lltaketwoofthose.Look,Ihaveanotherdealtoofferyou.”
“Thanks,butno.”Iquickenedmypace.
“IcanhookyouupwiththePatriots’physicaltherapist.”
“Youcandothat?”Mybreathcaughtinmythroat,butIkeptmypaceevenaswenearlyracedthroughthecorridor.
“Moneyispower,babygirl,andtheuniversehasatwistedsenseofhumor,whichiswhyIhavealotofinfluence.ButifIdothis,youmakeoutwithme—full-blown,second-base,tit-sucking,dick-rubbingmake-outsesh.Oh,andIgettotourthatorangeforestbetweenyourlegs.Mytimeofchoice,ofcourse.”
“No,”Igroaned,horrifiedatthementionofmyprivatepart.Itrimmedandtendedbetweenmylegs,butI’dneverseentheneedtoshaveorwaxthehairawaycompletely.
“I’llletyouthinkaboutit.”Hepattedmybackcondescendingly,purposefullyrilingmeup.
“HowlongdoIhave?”Iside-eyedhim.
“Threeseconds,ortheofferisoffthetable.Afriendofminepulledthesameshitthismorning.Workedwondersonme.”
Ishekidding?
Also,isthatwhatwearenow?Friends?
“Three,”hebegantocount,slappingtheexitdooropenandnoddingformetogooutfirst.
Wesurgedthrough,advancingtowardmycar,andIsmiledalittlewhenInoticedtheprogressHunterhadmade.Lessthanamonthago,he’dstoodinthisparkinglot,beggingmetotakeadeal.NowIwastheonebargainingwithhim.
“No,”Iclipped.
“Two.”Heignoredme,unlockingthecarautomatically.
Iwasabouttowalktothepassenger’sseat,buthegrabbedmebythewaistandforcedmetostandclosetohim,inanawkwardhalf-embrace,chainingmetothemoment.
Iswallowed.Itwasjustmakingout.Itwasn’tsex.He’dstillbecelibate.AndthePatriots’physicaltherapist?Imean,comeon.I’dbeafoolnottotakeit.
You’dbeafooltotakeanythingthisfamilyhastoofferyou.TheFitzpatricksareonestepawayfromruiningyou.Theyalreadymadeyoucrosseverylineyouthoughtyouhad.
“One,”hewhisperedhoarsely.
Iopenedmymouth.Heputhisthumbinside.Itwaswarm,rough,salty.Iclampedmylipsaroundit.Hepressedhisthumbagainstmylowerteeth,immobilizingme.Myheartpoundedsohard,myribswereshakingwiththeeffortofnotlettingitburstout.Hiseyes,darkblueandbrooding,boreintomine.
“I’mgoingtohaveyou,prey.Onewayortheother.Ourlittledealsarejustawayforyoutogiveyourselfexcusesforlettingmeintoyourpanties.Dothesmartthing,andgetsomethingoutofit,too.Yesorno?”
Ilookedupathim:abeautiful,unexpectedcurse,sweetpoisondrippingfrompetalsontomytongue.
No,mymindscreamed,butitstoodnochance.Icouldalreadyfeelmymouthshapingtheword,givingitbodyandvoiceandweight.
“Yes.”
Iatebacon,eggs,andonesliceofwhole-wheatbreadatthediner.HunteroptedforanEverest-sizedstackofpancakes,drenchedinenoughmaplesyruptodrownCanada,completewithamilkshakethathehooveredthroughaTim-Tambar,withadonutperchedonitsside,likeasliceoflemononaCoke.Hedevouredthefood,ignoringhisphoneonthetablebetweenus,whichblastedwithincomingtexts.
Ieyedhimcuriously,likehewasastrangeanimal,somethingthathadyettoberecordedonEarth.Hefeltcompletelyforeign.Beforewestartedallthis,Iwantedtothinkofhimasareckless,stupidplayboywithverylittleheartandintelligencetomatch.Everydayheprovedtobemorethanthatbroughtmeclosertomydemise.
Iwantedtoundresshim.Inhalehim.CinnamonandlaundrydetergentandthatHuntersmellthatmademyinsidestingle.Thekisswesharedwasgoingtohauntmetothegrave.Theanticipationofmakingoutwithhimsentjoltsofelectricitythroughthenapeofmyneck.
“Youshouldprobablytakesomeofyourcalls,”IsuggestedasIwatchedhimeat,suddenlyconsciousaboutmakingsuggestionsandgrillinghimagain.Lasttimewetriedtoeatsomewherepublic,itdidn’tendwell.
Hedidn’tlookupfromhisplate,workingthroughhisfifthpancake.
“Isthatyourdad?”Iasked.
“Affirmative.”Hestuffedhismouthwithmorefood.
“Didyoutellhimyouskippedworktoday?”
“Negative,”hesaidaroundamouthfulofdough.
“Whytheself-sabotage?”Ithrewapieceofcrispybaconintomymouth,chewing.“Youhadagoodreason.Icouldvouchforyou.”
Huntersuckedhisthumbcleanofmaplesyrup,releasingitwithapop.Somethingflutteredbetweenmylegswhenhedidthat.“He’llchoosetobelievetheworstaboutmenomatterwhat.Also,workiskindofashitstormATM.”
Yup.Hewasabbreviatingatthemoment
“Why?”Iasked,surprised.
I’demailedhisfatherbackandforthandreadbetweenthelines.Hedidn’tseemdispleasedwithHunter.Hewasactually,dareIsay,prettyhappywithhisprogress.
Hunterlethisutensilsclatterbesidehisplate,seemingtolosehisappetite.
“There’sthisguy,Syllie.BeenworkingforDaforcenturies.HewasmydesignatedbusboyuntilIcamehere—tookcareofshitforme.Sothisonelunchhour,Iwanttobeathumantrafficanddecidetotaketheemergencystairwayinsteadoftheelevatorsdown,right?Istartdescendingthestairs,andIoverhearhimtalkingonthephone.Andhesaystheseweird-assthingsthatsoundalotlikehe’stalkingaboutmyfamily,butIcan’tproveit.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
Huntersatback,fingeringhisDalahorse.Hedidthatwhenhewascontemplatingsomething.ItfrightenedmehowwellIknewhimnow.
“Idon’tknow,butIfeellikehe’drunRoyalPipelinesintothegroundifhecould.HesaidDawassmug,Cillianwassmartanddangerous,andthatIwas…”Hepaused.Theedgesofhisearsturnedpink,andhisfaceturnedcoldandunreadable.
“Thatyouwerewhat,Hunt?”Itiltedmyheadforward,askingsoftly.
“Afuckingjoke.”Hestaredmedeadintheeye,watchingformyreaction.
Ibroughtmythumbtomymouthandchewedtheskinaroundmybustedfingernail.Whenhedidn’tgetwhateverhewasexpecting—aconfirmation,criticism,oracompliment—hecontinued.
“IvoicedmyconcernstoDaandKill.Let’sjustsayitdidn’tfly.Iwannaknowwhathe’supto,whohe’sdoingthiswith,becauseitsoundedlikethisconversationwasthetipoftheiceberg.ButIdon’tknowhow.Whataretheoddsofmeoverhearinghimsayingsomethingcompromisingagain?Zero.”
Itappedmychin.“Butyoudon’thaveto.”
Hecockedhisheadsideways,givingmethatlookagain,thelookthatsaidIwasaHalloweenbuckethewantedtobustopen,devouronetreatatatimeandshowmeallhistricks.
“Whatdoyousuggest?”Hedidn’tbreakourgaze.
“Let’screatetheopportunityforourselves.Howmuchdowewanttonailthisbastard?”
Hunter’seyesglimmered,andhismouthquirkedintohalfasmirk.Iwastheoneusingacollectivewenow,andIrealizedtherewaspowerinit.Itwasfuntothinkofourselvesasateam,albeitonethatwasn’texactlygluedtogetherorganically.
“Veryfreakingbad.”HerepeatedmywordsabouttheOlympics.
“Let’sroll,then.”
Ionlyknewaboutthisguybecausemydadusedtotakemetohimsometimeswhenhepickedmeupfromschool.
BeforeIgotmydriver’slicense,Dadgavemearidetotherangetwiceaweekafterschool.Thatleftuswithanhourofdrivingaround.Therewasnopointgoinghomefortenminutesbeforedashingbacktobeattraffic.Sowe’deithergrabfoodtogetheratoneofMom’smanyjointsorhe’drunsomeerrands.Oneoftheseerrandswasthisguy,Knox.
Knoxacceptedpeopleforhousevisitsonly,andyouhadtotexthimbeforehand.Ididjustthat.IhadnodoubthispromptreplycamebecauseDadandSamwerehisprimecustomers.Apparently,hewasaformerFBIagentwhowentrogueandnowspenthisdaysrecreatingallthecrazystuffthefedsusedtotrackpeople.
Atanyrate,herewewere,standinginfrontofhisplaceinthetheaterdistrict.
Knoxopenedthedoor.Hewasthekindofmanwhocouldhavebeenanyagebetweenthirtyandfifty:round-bellied,hisskinflushedandbloatedwithalcohol,andeternallycladingraysweatpantsandawifebeater.
“LittleBrennan.”HeruffledmyhairlikeIwasakid.Tohim,IguessIwas.
“Hey,Knox.”Imotionedwithmyhandwhileitwasstillstuckinmyhoodie’spocket.“Thisismyfriend,Hunter.Icanvouchforhim.”
“I’llneedmorethanthat,sweetiepie.”
IjerkedmyhandoutofmypocketandcalledSam,mybrother.
“Hey,”heansweredonspeaker.Hesoundedontheroad.“Everythingokay?Assholegivingyoutrouble?”
“Theassholecanhearyou,”Huntergrumbled.
“Actually,IneedyoutovouchforhimtoKnox,Sam.”Ibitmylowerlipnervously.
“Knox?”Samchuckledindisbelief.
“Don’task.”
“Ijustdid.”
“Look,areyougoingtovouchformeornot?”Hunterhissed.
Hadtheymet?Itsoundedliketheyhadandpartedonnotthebestofterms.
“Knox?”Samasked.
Knoxmadeasoundaswinemightproduce,amixbetweenasnoreandagrumble.
“He’sgoodforit.Hey,asshole?”
“What?”Hunteransweredbegrudgingly.Apparently,hewastheassholenow.Betweenthatandbeingtheboy,Icouldtellhedidn’texactlyfeelthelovefromCampSailor.
“Tellpeopleaboutthisplaceorshowthemthestuffyoubuythere,andyou’retoast.Gotit?”
“Jesus,youmustthinkveryhighlyofme.”
“Frankly,Idon’tthinkofyouatall.Begood,Sail.Talksoon.”
IhunguponSamandsmiledtoKnox.“Canwecomein?”
KnoxgaveHunterafinalonce-over,noddinghesitantly.Ihadaninklingthatherecognizedhim.Didhethinkwewereacouple?Andwhydidhimmaybethinkingthatmakemyheartdocrazythingsinmychest?
Wesatdownonhiscouch.Everythingwasdark,theshuttersclosed.Thehousealwayssmelledlikedirtycatlitterandfeet,butIknewKnoxwasn’tbroke.Iwonderedwhathisstorywas,whathadmadehimwhohewastoday.
“I’daskifyouwantsomethingtodrink,butIdoubteitherofyouwouldwanttoputanythinginthisapartmentinyourmouth.”Knoxparkedhishandsonhiswaistinfrontofus.
“There’sonethinginthishouseI’dliketotaste,”Huntermurmured,side-eyeingmewithasmirk.
Ielbowedhim.Hard.
“Soyou’vedecidedtoplaySuperSpies?”Knoxglowered.“Hitmewithit.Whatdoyouneed?”
IturnedtoHunter.“What’stheonethingSyllienevertakesoff?Ever?”
“Hisshit-eatinggrin,”Hunterdeadpanned.
Irolledmyeyes,butsmiled.“No,really,though.”
Huntershrugged.“Hisweddingring.Glasses,Iguess.”
Knoxnodded,writingitdownonanotepadheproducedfromthewaistbandofhissweatpants—anotheritemonthegrowinglistofthingsIneverwantedtotouchinthisplace.
“Doeshehaveaclockinhisoffice?”Icontinued.
“Duh.”
“Whatkind?”
“Thegeneric-to-deathkind.”Hunterscratchedhislightstubble.“Black,silver-rimmed.”
Knoxwrotethatdown,too.“He’llneedtoshowmespecificimagesonGoogle.”
“WealsoneedaGPSdetectorforhiscarandanythingelseyoucancomeupwithtoensurewecanlistentohiseveryword,”Isaid.“Inrealtime.Top-notchstuff,please.”
“It’llcostya.”Knoxtsked.“Thatmightrequiresomefieldwork,andIchargeextraforthat.Drivingthevanalonetoensurequality,plusequipment,startsatagrandanhour.ThenIneedtosetuparemoteserver,dropfilesintoasharedcloudforyoutoaccesstherecordingandfootage,andthereareprocessing,editing,andovertimefeesforweekendsandaftersixo’clock.Dependingonyourneeds,thiscouldblowupto50kamonthbeforeyouevensneezeinmydirection.”
“Money’snotaproblem,”Huntersaidcoldly,lookingeveryinchtherichbastardhewas.
Knoxsmiledathimknowingly.“Yeah,prettyboy,didn’tthinkso.Onemorething.”Heheldhisfingerup.“You’reinchargeoftheswitch-a-rooofitemsandplantinganyrecordingdevices.Iplaywiththelaw,butItrynottopissonitwheneverpossible.”
“I’llhandleit,”Huntersaid.
Knoxwentintoasideroomhekeptfirmlyshut,leavingusinhislivingroom
Hunterturnedtolookatme.“WhyamIfeelingmildlyuncomfortableandseriouslyturnedonthatyou’vebeenherebeforeandknowshitaboutspying?”
Ilaughed.“Iwaswithmydad.”
“Therespectablebusinessman,”hetaunted.
Ishrugged,keepingmyfacestraight.“That’stheone.”
“Heisloaded,”Huntersaid.
“You’reonetotalk.”Ilaughed.“Howareyouplanningtopayforthis,anyway?Ithoughtyourdadgaveyouafixedsalary.”
Hunterflashedmeawolfishgrin.“Mymotherbendsbackwardtopacifyme.Venmoismybestfriend.”
“Nice.”Imunchedonmylips.
“Whataboutyou?”Hejerkedhischintowardme.“Youseemkindofbrokeforarichkid.”
“Iam,”Iadmitted.“Idon’ttakemoneyfrommyparents.IliveoffwhateverIgetpaidfromgivingarcherylessonsinthesummer.”
“Pshh.”
Hunterstaredatthewall,consideringmywordsforasecond,thensaid,“Weneedtoshowerafterthis.”Huntermotionedwithhisindexaroundtheroom.
“Naturally.”
“Together.”
“Hunt.”
“Fine.Thatkiss,though.”Hebithisfist,rollinghiseyesintheirsockets.Hepointedtomyphone.“BitchisblowinguplikeasexdollataVirginsAnonymousconvention.Everythingcool?”
Ilookeddown.IhadtwomissedcallsfromMaybe:CrystalPRManager
Idartedmyeyestohim,feelingmycheeksheatingwithablush.
Hunterstudiedmeverycarefully.“Damight’vementionedyouwereslowtoanswerheremails.”
“Soyougavehermynumber?”
“Youhadadealwithmyfamily.Inordertokeepourpartofthebargain,youneedtoanswerthisPRchick.”
“Stopmessingwithmyphone.”
ButIcouldn’tfullybemadathimwhenhewastryingtohelp.Again.
“I’venevermessedwithyourphone.Justyourpanties.”
“Ha.”
Hunterkeptstaringatme,hissmilebigandmischievousandfullofthingsIhadn’tevenknownyoucouldfeel.
No.
“Youdidnottouchmypanties,”Iwhispered,shocked,flustered,and…Actually,Icouldn’tstartcountingallthethingshisconfessionmademefeel.
Heraisedhisarmsinsurrender.“Ipleadthefifthandkindlyaskyounottocheckmypockets.”
“There’snothinginyourpockets.”Myeyesflared,butIcouldn’tstopsmiling.Whatwaswrongwithme?
“Bet.Sodon’tcheckthem.”
Theneedtofindoutwhetherhewaspullingmylegornotoverwhelmedme.Theegoboostwouldbeintoxicatingifhetoldthetruth.Myeyestraveleddowntohissweatpants.Hewashard.
Sohard.
Theridgeofhiscockwaslongandthickandpointingtohisstomach.Iswallowed.IfkissingHunterfeltsofarremovedfromanythingI’dexperiencedwithBeau,Iwonderedhowhavingsexwithhimwouldbe.
Divine.
Euphoric.
Destructive.
IthenproceededtowonderhowdumbIcouldpossiblybe.I’dsignedacontractvowingtokeephimcelibate.Icouldn’tsleepwithhim.
Ilookedaway,munchingontheskinaroundmythumb.WhenIheardKnoxstillshufflingaroundinhisroom,Icouldn’ttakeitanymore.IturnedaroundandstuffedmyhandinHunter’spocketwithoutgivinghimanywarning.Myfingerscollidedwithhispenis,andIalmostjumpedback,whenIfeltsomething.Apieceoffabric.Inarrowedmyeyesathim,stoppingdeadwithmyfistaroundthefabric.
“No.”
Hegavemeanexaggeratedlysweetlook,battinghislashes.
“Stoppretendingtobeinnocent.Yourinnocencediedalongtimeago.”
“Thatitdid,bloodiedandscreaming.Allthesame,itcouldbeKnox’slingerie.Heisafine-lookingspecimen.”
Isnorted.“I’mpullingitout.”
“Hey,that’ssupposedtobemyline.”
Ituggedatthefabric.Myfingersshookaroundit.
Yellow.
Withredspots.
DidIhaveredandyellowunderwear?Irackedmybraintryingtoremember.Butitwasn’tmyunderwear.Itwasabloodiedpieceofcloth.Itlookedlikepartofashirt.Irealizeditwasapieceoftheshirttheguyhe’dfoughtwithatthepubwaswearing.Hunterhadkeptit.Shame,excitement,disappointment,andeverysingleotherfeelinginmyemotionbasketslammedintomeallatonce.Myeyesdartedup.
Hecurledhisfistaroundmine,sowewerebothholdingthefabric.Heleaneddown.Hislipsbrushedmine.
“Fuck,youareeasytorattle.Yourassissomineforthenextfivemonths.”
“Getawayfromme.”Butmywordslackedconviction.Theywereempty,hollow,wispy.
“Submit,prey,”hegrowleddarkly.
“Fightharderforit,Hunter.”
“I’llswallowyouwhole.”Hisbreathcaressedmycheekandear,sendingmyhairflyingwithwarmth.“Youdon’tknowmykind.Arrow-proof.”
Adark,deliciousquiverrandownmyspineashewhisperedthat.
Knoxcamebackwhenwewereafractionofaninchfromakiss,withmehangingontotheremainderofmyself-controlwithbloodyfingers.
Hestoodinfrontofuswithacardboardboxfullofequipment,cuttingthechargedmomentwithametaphoricalknife.“Readytoplay?”
Hunterlookedbackathim,completelypoised,calm,andincontrol,smilingdevilishly.
“Always.”IreplacedtheclockinSyllie’sofficeaftereveryonehadleft.
Itwasjustthecleaningladiesandme,vacuuming,gossiping,ohh-ingandahh-ingtothedistortedFilipinostationtheyblastedfromaradio.
Theclockwastheeasypart.Earliertoday,I’dgonedowntotheparkinglotandputatrackeronSyllie’scar.OneofDa’saccountantshadsteppedoutofhisModelXTeslawhenhesawmeonallfours,fingeringthebottomofSyllie’sMercedeslikesomeauto-fetishcreeper.
“WhatonEarthareyoudoing?”he’ddemanded,lookingdownhisnoseatme—testamenttothefactthatDahadn’tclaimedmeasanythingotherthanaglorifiedPA,minusthegenerousrack.
Ihadtothinkfast.“Gettinghighonfumes,”Isaidwithoutmissingabeat
Yeah.ThatwasthebestIcouldcomeupwith.Shutup.
“Isthatathing?”Hissaucereyeswidened.
Consideringhewasapproximatelyathousandyearsold,Ifiguredhe’dbuyit.Ipretendedtowipemynosewiththesleeveofmyblazer,grinning.
“Givesthebesthigh.Ifyouhaven’ttriedityet,areyouevenliving?”
“Willyouteachmehowtodoit?”Hisplumpfacetwistedinquestion.
BeingthecoolkidsuckedballsinBoston.Plus,thisparticularcoolkiddidn’tevenhaveanyfriends—otherthanSailor,whowasapotentialfuckbuddy,soIcouldn’tgetattached.
“Bet.”Istoodup.“Sometimesoon.Notnow.”
WhatIreallymeantwaswhenhellfrozeover.
Yeah,thatseemedlikeagoodfuckingtimetospendtimewiththeoldsod.
Thedayaftertheclockandthecarcametherealpickle:theglasses.Syllierarelytookthemoff.Hewasblindasabat.Whenhefinallypartedwayswiththem,heputthemonhisdeskandrushedoutofhisoffice.ImayhaveaskedthestutteringreceptionisttocallhimurgentlyregardingsomepapersthathadcomeaboutthenewrefineryinMaine.Itwasadumbexcuse,soIknewIhadfiveminutes,max.
Iboltedintohisroom,pocketedtheoriginalglasses,andplacedanidenticalpairwiththerecordingdeviceintheirplace.Itwassomemagic-asswirelessshitthatstreamedtherecordingslive.IroundedSyllie’sdeskashewalkedbackin.
Myheartdroppedtomyasshole.Maybeliterally.TherewasamomentwhenIwonderedifIwasgoingtosurvive.Ifnot,Idreadedtheheadline.“YoungHeirLeavesReluctant,Semi-LovingFamilyandHotRoommateBehind.”
AtleastI’dalwaysberememberedformycontributionstosociety:orgasms,one-linersIborrowedfromGeorgeCarlin,andstartingthebomber-jacket-over-tux-shirttrendatAllSaintsHigh.
Songoftheday:“Hey,Look,MaIMadeIt”byPanic!AttheDisco.
“Sonny-boy,”Sylvestergreetedme.“Whatareyoudoinginmyoffice?”
Hesoundedchillasfuck.ThiswashowmuchIdidn’tchartasathreattohim.I’dbeencaughtred-handedinhisoffice,andhedidn’tevenraiseaneyebrow.Igrabbedthefirstthingwithinreachonhisdesk,astapler,andstartedforthedoor.
“Justwantedtoborrowyourstapler.”Iwaveditinmyhandforgoodmeasure.Oscar-worthyperformance,Itellya.
“Why?”Heshovedhishandsintohispockets.Hisfacehadrandomfeaturesthatdidn’treallygel.HewaslankyandlookedliketheCaucasianversionofMr.BurnsfromTheSimpsons
Iimprovisedsomemore.“Gotalittlecarriedawaywithoneoftheinterns.Ruinedhervirtue.Also,herpencilskirt.”Iexposedmywhitefangs,hoodingmyeyes.Sylliegrinnedback.Wide.Afterall,Iwasa“literalfuckingjoke,”alwaysupforatumbleinthesupplycloset.
“That’smyboy.”Heclappedmyback,lettinghishandlingerthereforasecondtoolong.“Iwon’ttellonyou,”hepromisedearnestly,hishandclutchinghisheart.“Forwhatit’sworth,I’vealwaysthoughtyourdawastooharshonyou.Youshouldlivealittle.Havefun.”
Iraisedmyfisttohis.Wepoundedit.Hefeltcool.Myjobherewasdone.
“Yo,ifyouwannagethighongasfumeslater,letmeknow,”Iofferedoutofnowhere,turningtohimwhilestillwalkingoutofhisoffice.Ithoughtaboutthatidiotaccountantfromyesterday.
Syllielaughed.“Maybe,son.Maybe.”
Adultsweretrash.
Laterthatday,IwasinvitedtoameetingabouttheMaine-basedrefineryRoyalPipelineswassupposedtoopenthisyear,whichwasstillunderconstruction.SyllieralliedforDa,Cillian,yourstruly,andhimselftotakeaquicktripthereinthenextfewmonthstoexamineitupclose.
“Weneedtokeepourfingeronthepulse,getabetterunderstandingofwhat’snotworking.It’llalsogiveHunterachancetofeelincluded.”Sylliespokebrightly,lookingaroundDa’sdesk.
Myfather,whostillcouldn’tlookatthehedonistmonsterhe’dcreated,saidnothing,probablyhiswayoftryingtofigureoutifIwasworththehassle.Itookminutesduringthatmeeting,thenmailedthemtoDaandCillian,knowingtherewasaone-hundred-percentchancetheyweren’topeningmygoddamnemails.
Hourslater,Idecidedtotakemylunchtothepubliclibraryandcraminsomestudyingtime.Eatingatthelibrarywasprohibited,soIconcealedmyselfbehindtheautobiographyshelves.Nobodyfuckingcared—notaboutwhatdeadpeopledid,andnotaboutme.
AsIdebatedwhetheritwastechnicallypossibletokillmyselfbysmashingmyheadintotheeconomicstextbook,Iheardafamiliarvoicethreerowsdown,seepingfromtheBrailleselectionslikepoison.
“…inmotion.You’llhavetoputthingstogetherquickly.I’mshootingfornextmonth,ortheoneafterit.Soon.”
Therewasapause.Theotherpersonwastalking.WhatwerethechancesofSylliegoingtothelibrarytotakeapersonalcall?Good,Irealized.Theplacewasdead,andyouwouldn’tfindanyoftheFitzpatrickmeninthelibraryunlessitwasatrendynameforabrothel.
Orsohethought.
“Fatherandoldersonposemorethreatthanthelittleone,asImentioned,”headded.
Don’tbesofuckingsure.
“Keepmeposted.I’llcallsoon.”
Hekilledthecall.Ithrewmysandwichintothetrashcan,myappetitegone.
Hewasgoingtopay.
HHH:Whenareyoucominghome2night?Igotnudes.
HHH:News*.#DieAutocorrect.
HHH:(thoIgotnudestoo,ifyou’reinterested).
Sailor:Youknowthatmeansyoutypethewordnudemorethannews,right?
HHH:I’msensingyouhaveapointsomewhereinthissentence.
Sailor:Howoftendoyousextwomen?
HHH:Isthatatrickquestion?
Sailor:Nvm.GettingintoPTin2mins.
HHH:How’sthePatriots’dude?
Sailor:Good.Thanksforhookingmeup.
HHH:Alwayshappytohookafriendup,unlikesomeoneIknow.*eyespeekingemoji*
Sailor:IfIhadaguilttripeverytimeyoumademefeelshittyaboutholdingmysideofthebargainwithyourdad,I’dbecrippledwithanxiety.
HHH:Sexisgreatforanxiety.
Sailor:Besides,IgaveyouKnox.
HHH:Thatyoudid.AndIsuccessfullydeployedallthedeviceshesoldme.
Sailor:I’mglad!Iknewyoucoulddoit.
HHH:Whendidyousayyouwerecominghomeagain?
Sailor:Late.GotameetingwithJunsuafterthis,thenIhavethatshootforthesportsmagazineCrystalgotforme.DoorDashawaywithoutme.
HHH:Ok.x
Iorderedsushithatnight.
Notgoodsushi,either.Sailoralwaysknewwhattoget,wheretogetit,andwhomadethebestfoodinthecity.Theapartmentfeltextraemptywithouther.IresistedtheurgetoFaceTimeVaughnorKnightasIplacedmyreusablechopsticksandLaCroixonthediningtable,listeningtoapodcastaboutthishipsterchickwholivedayearintheScottishhighlandstryingtofigureoutifthecryptozoologicallochnessmonsterreallydidexist.
Thedoorbellrang.Iopenedup.Itwasawoman:Asian,realbabe,withaheart-shapedfaceandlong,purplehairthatlookedextrasilky.Bangingbody.Sailor-small,asinminiature.Sheraisedthethrice-knottedplasticbagbetweenus.
“Lightsaredown,andreceptionisempty.Thisplaceisaghosttown.Didyouknowtheelectricityisoffintheentirebuilding?Ihadtotakethestairs.”
Ididn’t,butthatmeantthatDa’sassholesweren’tonmycaseforthefirsttimeinweeks,andIwasn’tevenaware.TheCCTVwasdown.
“Nope.”Itookthefoodfromher,rummagingmypocketforthetip(peoplewhodidn’ttipDoorDashheroestwiceweredeadtome).
“Enjoyyourmeal,Rapunzel.”Shewinked,butdidn’tmakeamove.
“Enjoyitwithme.”Ithrewheralazysmile.
“Forreal?”
“Forreal,forreal.”
Sailorwasout.Thebuilding’selectricitysystemwasdown,otherthanintheactualapartments,Iguess,becausemylightswereon.NooneknewIhadachickinhere.Bonuspoints,ithadbeenalong-asstimesinceI’dsharedamealwithsomethingthatwasn’tatextbookorSailor.
“I’mEmily.”Shestretchedoutherhand.
“Hunter.”Itookit,pullingheringently.Shefellintomychest,gigglingbreathlessly.
“Whoa.Thisplace.Areyouloadedorsomething?”
“Cocked,too.”Iwasopenlyflirting.Shewasopenlyresponding.
IclosedthedoorbehindusandtookanotherLaCroixfromthefridge.Therewasonlyoneleft,andSailorwasgoingtokillme,butwhatever,servedherrightfornotbeingherewhenIneededher.Weate.
Twohourslater,Emilywasstillhere.WewatchedBrickonNetflixbecauseshesaidshewascrushingonJosephGordon-Levittlikeitwas1998.Honestly,Ididn’tcareforthemovie.Butthesituationwasnice.Natural.Oursockedfeetonthecoffeetable,munchingontheorganicdarkchocolatethehousekeeperstockedthefridgewith.
ItwasthelasttenminutesofthemoviewhensherealizedIwasn’tgoingtopounceher.Emilyputherthighonmineandwiggledhersockedtoestotouchmyskin.Ididn’tmakeamove,watchingitplayout,andknowingIwasgoingtostopit—probably—butalsofeelingdangerouslyhighonthetwohoursoffreedomI’dbeengiven.
“Mybraissuperuncomfortable,”shepurred,pouting.“CanItakeitoff?”
“Isthatevenaquestion?”Iaskedgroggily.
Hey,that’sjustbeingacordialhost.
Emilyreachedunderthebottomofhershirtandremovedherbrawithhershirtstillon,throwingthelacy,whitethinginmyface.Iletitsitthere,drapedonmyhead,forcomicvalue,poppinganotherchocolatesquareintomymouth.
“You’resuchadork.”Shelaughed.
Brick,myass.ShewasinterestedinwatchingthisshitlikeIwasinterestedinbathinginacetone.
“Areyougoingtohitonme?”sheasked,finally,hereyesnotwaveringfrommybra-cladface.
“I’madeadlysinyoudon’twanttocommit,”Iconfessed.
“I’vedonethemall.”Shelookedatme,straight-faced.“Dome.”
Ishookmyhead,notbelievingIwasdoingthis,butdoingitanyway,becausefuck,Ineededthemoney,andfuck,adirtyfuckwasjustnotworthit.
“Sorry,lovely.Gettingfuckedisnotinyourcardstonight.”
Thedooropened.
“Honey,I’mhome,”Sailorsing-songedsarcastically.ShefrozeonthespotwhensherealizedIwasn’talone.Isatupright,thinking,Thisissalvageable,untilIfeltthebrafallingfrommyfaceontothecarpet.
Shitfuckhell.
Songoftheday:“BorntoRun”byBruceSpringsteen.
“CT,thisisEmily.”Imotionedtomyguest,pretendingthischickhadn’tbeenintheprocessofhoistingherselfontomeahotsecondago.SweartoGod,theideaoffuckingherhadn’tevenoccurredtome.Imean,inthefuture—one-hundred-and-ten-percentyes.Rightnow,though?Toorisky.Mybloodline,myinheritance,myfuturedependedonmyabilitytokeepmypantson.Plus,IwasputtingadentintheSailorproject.“Emily,that’smyroomie,Sailor.”
“Hi!”Emilyjumpedtoherfeet,wavingandflashingasmile.Hertitsbounced,bra-less,andhernipplesweresemi-hard.Sailordidn’treturnthegesture.Ipausedthemovienoonewaswatchinganywayandstrolledovertomybansheefrenemy.
Youcouldfeeltheatmosphereshifting,dippingindarksmoke.Emilypickedupontheawkwardness.Shescoopedupherbra,phone,shoes,andcarkeyswhileshufflingaroundlikeaharassedostrich.
ItookSailor’sduffelbaganddisposedofitinthespareroomforher.“Howwasthephotoshoot,kiddo?”
They’dputSailorinbrightredlipstickandthick,neonblueeyeliner.Combinedwithhercopperhair,itmadeherlooklikeasexyDavidBowiecross-dresser.Hereyeswerestillonmyface.RoundandwideandbottomlessandwhatthefuckhaveIdone?
“I’moutofhere,”Emilychirpedtonooneinparticular.
IwalkedhertothedoorbecauseIwasn’tacompletedouchecanoe,andbecauseIwasprettysureshethoughtSailorwasmygirlfriend.Isqueezedhershoulder.
“I’llcallyou,”Ilied.
“Yeah,okay.”
“Hmm,wouldyoumindtakingthestairs?”Ishiftedmyweightfromlegtoleg.“Yaknow,camerasandstuff.”
“It’saskyscraper,”shehissed.
“Oh,comeon.Goingdownshouldn’tbethathardforyou.”
Shutthefuckup,mybrainyelledatme.Ireallyhadawaywithwords.
Shedashedlikeabatoutofhell,leavingskidmarksonthemarble.Iturnedaround,raisingmypalmsatSailor.
“Icanexplain.”
Shesaidnothing.Juststaredatme.Whichwasworsethanbeingyelledat,somehow.
“Wewerejustwatchingamovie.”
“Wereyouusingherbraasglasses?”Sailorinquireddispassionately.
“Actually,thebrawasarecentdevelopment.Shewantedtomessaround.Iwasn’tgame.”
“Why?It’snotlikeit’dhavemadeadifference.YourfatherprobablyknowsshewasintheapartmentthroughCCTV.That’swhyyouaskedmewhenIwasgoingtobeheretoday,no?”
Itseemedtheelectricityhadcomebackon.
Sailordidn’twaitforananswer.Shesaunteredbrisklytothebathroom.Ifollowedher,feelingpussy-whipped,sansthepussy.Theimplausibletininessofherpersonincontrasttotheimpactshehadonmylifemademewanttotearthisplacetoitsbonesandwatchitcollapse,brickbybrick.
“Wrong.Ididn’tevenknowheruntilacouplehoursago.IorderedDoorDash,planningtolistentothematerialKnoxsentmefromSyllie,andshewasthedeliverygirl.Shesaidtheelectricitywasdownintheentirebuilding.Shecameupthestairsbecausetheelevatorsweredown.Dadoesn’tknow.”
“Thatsoundslikeagreatpornscript,”Sailormumbled,turningonthetapandtryingtowashherface.Shetriedtoclawthemakeupoffwithherfingernails.Shehadnoideahowtoremovemakeup,butpointingthatoutwasgoingtomakehermaimmewithherbow.
“Itdoes,doesn’tit?”Istrokedmyjaw,thinkingaboutthepositionsI’dfuckSailorifweevermadeapornotogether.“Pointis,nothinghappened.I’mallowedtohavefemalefriends.”
“Sheisnotyourfriend.”Sheair-quotedthelastword,irritatedwiththestubbornmakeup.Sheturnedoffthefaucet,punchingthemarblecounterandwincing.
“Jealouslysuitsyou,CT.Irishchickslookgreatingreen.”
“I’mnotjealous!IwishI’dstayedoutsoyoucouldgoallthewayandscrewupyourlife.You’ddeserveit,too.”Shewasshoutingnow,throwingherhandsintheair.Shedashedforthedoor.
Iblockedherway,full-blownlaughingnow,myarmsoneithersideofthedoorframe.
“Isthatright?You’dratmeout,CT?”
“Inaheartbeat,”shesnapped.“Movealongnow,prettyboy.”
Anotherjab.Man,shewantedtheVitaminD.
“Bull.Shit,”Iwhispered,notbuyingitforasecond.EvenifI’dfuckedEmily,herimaginarytwinsister,andeverygirlinthisbuilding,Sailorstillwouldn’tsnitchonme.She’dbemad,fuming—andwouldprobablytransporteverypieceofgarbageinNorthAmericaintomyroom.Butshewouldn’truinmylife.
Therealizationmademefeeltriumphed.
IknewitbecauseIknewher
“Iwanttoleave,”Sailorenunciated.
“Notuntilyouadmityou’rejealous.”WhythefuckdidIevencare?Ego?Bloodsport?
Both,probably.
Shethrewherheadback,herlaughrusty.“EventhoughI’mnot?”
“Yeah.Pacifymypettyass.TellmewhatIwanttohearsowecangetitoverwith.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
Sheraisedherpalmtoslapme,swingingherhand,butIcaughtherbythewrist,pressingateasingkisstoherpalm,thenlickingitbasetoindexfinger.Icoveredhalfherfingerwithmymouth,lickingandsuckingitwithasmile.Oureyesweregluedtogether,asifinatrance.Icouldseeherheartpoundingthroughhershirt,andIwantedtosqueezeitinmyfistandtellhershe’dalreadylostthatgamebetweenus.
I’dhadthepleasureofpleasuringmanywomeninmylife.ButneverhadIseenagirlreacttomethewaySailorBrennandidwhileherclotheswerestillon
WhenIwasdonegivingherfingerablowjob,Isteppedaside.
“Fine.Run.Youhavethreeseconds.”
“Before?”shedrawled,herhandstillintheair.She’dforgottentolowerittothesideofherbody.Thezinginhereyestoldmeshewantedanotherroundofmind-chess.
EnterPlayer2
“Ihuntyoudownandfuckyouhard.Notdeal-related.Callitharecoursing.”
“Excuseme?”
“That’sthepoint,baby.You’reexcused.Unlessyoudon’twanttobe.Inwhichcase,yourun,Ichase.Getoutifyou’renotgame.Three.”
Hereyesdartedfrommyfacetothedoor.Istudiedhereverymove.Webothknewthisshitbetweenus—theelectricitythathadnothingtodowithwhatwasgoingoninthebuilding—washeretostay.
“Two.Leave.”
Shetookfourquickstepstothedoor,duringwhichmysoulswiftlyleftmybody,bailingonmyassandrunningwithher.ThenSailorskiddedtoastop,notgoingpastthethreshold.Sherakedherfingersthroughherhair,producingwhatIguessedwasthematingsoundoftwoderangedemus.
“Shit,”shechoked,herfeetgluedtothebathroomtiles.“WhatamIdoing?”
Me,inasecond.
“One.”
Shefelltoherknees,herbacktome,herheadslackingforwardindefeat.ItwaslikewatchingNationalGeographicasakid,whenI’daskedNannyNumberSixwhythecameramenandfilmcrewdidn’thelptheinnocent,unassumingzebrawhenthetigresscaughtit,danglingitbyitsnecklikeaheavypieceofjewelry.
Becausethisisnature.Onlythestrongsurvive.
Ialmosttookmercyonherthen.
Almost.
ThenIrememberedmyowngoddamnfamilyhadaneat-your-youngmentality—andtheotherpartNannyNumberSixhadmentioned:thetigress’side.Itwashungry,depraved,andwantedtostayjustasaliveasthezebra.
Huntersneededtoeattosurvive.
Hisfingerscurledaroundmytopknotfrombehind,tuggingitwithanexpertisethatfrightenedmeuntilitbecameaponytail.
Hepulledmyheadback,extendingmyneck.Igroaned,squeezingmyeyesshut.
IbelievedHunterhadn’ttouchedEmily.
Butshealsoservedasareminderofallthegirlshewouldtouchinthefuture.OursixmonthsweregoingtobeupbeforeIknewit,andwiththem,hisundividedattention.Hewouldhaveotherconqueststomake,alloftheminlandshe’dyettodiscover,withhorizonshewantedtobaskin.Iwasjustasmallislandhewastemporarilystuckon.Ofcoursehewantedtosampleitsfruit.
Worststill,Hunterknewhiseffectonme,knewIwouldneverrathimout.AsmuchasIloathedhowheattractedme,Ialsofeltweirdlyprotectiveofhim,especiallywherehisfatherandbrotherwereconcerned.
IwasgoingtokeepEmilyoutofmyweeklyemailtoGeraldFitzpatrick,coverupHunter’smisstep,andpretenditneverhappened.Sincethecamerasweresolelyoutsidetheapartment,andEmilyreportedlycameinandtookoffdownthestairway,thatshouldn’tbeaproblem.
“Openyoureyes,”Hunterorderedsternly.Hisvoicehadawayofnestlingbetweenmylegs,givingtheorganbetweenthemapulse.
Myeyesflutteredopen,meetinghisgaze.Hewasalonelyprince—untouchable,yetinneedofahug.Brilliant,yetdeeplymisunderstood.Sittingonathroneofbrokenexpectationsanddisappointment.
Iwonderedifhe’deverknowhewassmartandbraveandgoodhearted.
IwonderedifI’dbethefoolishgirltolethiminonthatsecret.
Irealizedhewasright.Iwasthearcher,buthewasthetruehunter.
“Admitit,”hecroaked,hisfacedescendingtominefromovermyshoulder,hislipsdrawingcloser,inchbyinch,theheatofhimtangible,blazingastraightpaththroughmyreservations,mortification,andlogic.“Thisishappening.Itishappening,andyou’refrightened.It’shappening,andI’mnotapartofyourcarefullylaid-outplan.Youdon’tknowifyouhavetheendurance,orthegutstoseethisthroughwhenit’stimetosaygoodbye.”
Mythroatbobbedwithaswallow.Ithurt,buthedidn’tletgoofmyhair.“Youcansurvivethis,”hewhisperedintomymouth.
“This?”Igroused.
“Us.Ihaveaglasssoul,baby.Prettytolookat,butitbreakseasily,canmakeyoubleed,andnobodygetsattachedtoit.”
Ipartedmylips,abouttotellhimhewaswrong,buthismouthclosedinonmine,hiskissadruggingpotionsoakingintome—slow,erotic,andteasing.Itwasnothinglikeourfirstkiss,butsomehowtwiceasbewitching.Ifelthishandsnakingtomyfront,skimmingpasttheoutlineofmybreast,movingdownuntilitreachedmygroin.Hecuppedandliftedmeuptomyfeet,holdingmebetweenmylegs,stillkissingmeashisfingersdugthroughthefabricofmyyogapantsroughly.Hepinnedmystomachagainstthebathroomwall,grindinghiserectionbetweenmybuttcheeksthroughourclothes.Adesperatemoanescapedme.Heswalloweditwithanotherdirtykiss.Hekissedeverythingaway.
Heisnotgoingtobeheretokissitbetterwhenhedumpsyouafterthedealisover.
Heshovedhisbigpalmintothefrontofmypants,andIgroaned,disconnectingmymouthfromhisandpressingmyforeheadtothecoldtilesasheatswirledinsideme.
“I’mnotavirgin,”Isaid.Idon’tknowwhyIsaidit.MaybeIwantedtomakesurehedidn’tgogentleonme.IwantedthefullHunterexperience,evenifIknewIwasgoingtoregretittheminutewesteppedoutofthisbathroom.
Hiscockjerkedbetweenmybuttcheeks,hisbodymoldingintomine.
“Oh,yeah?”Therewasn’tahintofjealousyinhisvoice,onlycuriousamusement.
Inodded,myforeheadgrazingthewall.
“Howmany?”heasked.
Iwonderedaboutthetechnicalities.DidwereallybreakthecelibateruleifHunterandIjustdry-humped?No.Notreally.Imean,yes,itwaswrong,butmanageable.Besides,GeraldmainlyhatedhowHunter’sbusinesswashangingalloverthemedia.Thiswouldbeoursecret.NeitherhenorIwantedittoleakpastthesewalls.Hunterhadhiskingdomontheline,andImycareerandreputation.
“One.”Igaspedwhenhisthumbandindexfoundmyclit,pinchingit.Therestofhisfingersslidpastmywetentrance,gatheringmyneedforhimandrubbingitagainstmyclit.Hisfingerpadswerewarm,hisstrokeleisurelyandskillful.
Ifeltlikemyinsidesweremelting,oneorganatatime.Itwasn’tbutterflies.No.Morelikemoths,eatingatme,consumingmecompletely.
Hunterkissedhiswayfrommyeartomyneck,downtomyshoulder.
“Name.”
“Beau.”
“Ex-boyfriend?”
“Somethinglikethat.”
“Didyoulovehim?”HisfingersdidthingsinsidemeIcouldn’texplain.Ijustknewnoonehadevertouchedmethatway.Mywholebodyshivered,downtomysoul.
“N-no.”Icouldn’tlie.
“Didyoulikeit?”
Thequestionsurprisedme.Ididn’tthinkBeauhimselfhadeveraskedmethat.IplantedmypalmsonthetilesasHunteryankeddownmypantsfrombehindinonego.
“Wecan’thavesex.Wecan’tbreaktherules,”Ifinallymanagedtosay.
Helaughedadevilishlaugh,cuppingoneofmyasscheeksandsqueezinghard.Hunterincreasedhisspeed,rubbingmyclitandguidinghispenisbetweenmycheeksfrombehind.Iknewhewaswatchingwhathewasdoing—mybare,whitebuttbeingpokedaround.
Mylegsbegantotremble.Ithrewmyheadback,gladitwasabouttobeover.Theorgasmbegantotickleitswayupfrommytoestotherestofmybody.
Finally,finally,finally.
“Oh,Hunter.”Ihatedhowrighthisnamefeltrollingoutofmymouth.Howmoan-ableitwas.Hestoppedrubbingmeoff,takingastepback.Ittookmetensecondstorealizemyorgasmwasn’tgoingtomaterialize.Iturnedaround,eyeswideandaccusing.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Idemanded,feelingmyfacehotwithconfusionanddesire.Thathadneverhappenedbefore.
HeleanedagainsttheJackandJillcounter,grinning,hishandshovedinhispants,playingwithhisveryhard,veryimpressiveerection.
“Iwanttogetyouoff,”hepoppedthewordscarelessly,socalmyou’dthinkweweretalkingabouttheweather.
“Thendo!”Ifrownedsodeeplymyeyebrowshurt.
Helaughed,ahearty,joyouslaughterthatrangaroundtheroomlikeasong.“See,butIwanttogetoff,too.Atthesametime,Irespectyourinclinationnottoshitalloverthecelibacyrule.Howaboutacompromise?”
Isaidnothing.Iknewitwasn’tfairtoexpecthimtogetmeoffifIwasn’tgoingtoreciprocate.ButsomethingaboutkneelingtoHunterfeltintenselywrong.Herewasamanwhomayhavebeenajokeinhisownfamily,buttoeveryoneelse,hewasadeity,andIdidn’twanttojoinhisreligion.Ididn’twanttoworshiphim.
BecauseIknewhewasagodIcouldbelievein.
“Iwilldiebeforegoingdownonmykneesforyou.”Ijerkedmychinup.
Heraisedhiseyebrows,lookingbothsurprisedandthoroughlyentertained.“Isthatso?”
“Yes.”
“Why’sthat?”
“Becauseyou’reamanwhorewithasextape.I’mnotgoingtobeanothernotchonyourbedpost.”
Itsoundedridiculousoutloud,butthesentimentwasclear.Ididn’twanttobeoneofmany,especiallyknowinghechosemeonlybecausehecouldn’thavehispick.
“Yetyou’dbehappyifIgotyouoff?”heasked,soIcouldfacethehypocrisyofwhatIwassaying.
Ishrugged.“You’retheonewhostartedit.”
Somature,Sailor.
Laughing,heapproachedmeagain,grinninglikethecatwhoatethecanary.Loweringhimself,hegotridofmypantsgatheredatmyankles,dumpingthemonthefloorandleavingmecompletelynakedfromthewaistdown.Next,hereachedforthefrontofmyshirt.
“Justfortherecord,”hesaidtonelessly,beginningtopullthefabricforward,deliciouslyslowly,asmirkonhisface.“Lookingupatmefromyourkneesisagreatfuckingangle,soyoumaywanttoreconsider.”
“No,thankyou.”Iswallowed,feelingmyshirtrip.Theslashoftheclothagainstmyskinrangbetweenthewalls.Hethrewtheballoffabricbehindhisshoulder,loweringmetothebathtubstepandpryingmylegsopenwithstrongfingers.Iwatchedinaweashereachedintomyentranceagain,gatheredmyjuices,andrubbedthemagainstmybarenipples.Ididn’tknowwhyIwasn’tstoppinghim.
Ididn’tknowwhyIevenremainedinthesamehouse.
NowHunterwastheoneonhisknees,hiselbowproppedontheedgeoftheJacuzzi,grinningupatme,likehewasuptosomething.Herose,plasteringhisclothed,muscularbodyatopofmynakedone,erasingmyscowlwithakiss.Ilethimkissme,feelinghisfingersworkingtheirwaybetweenmyopenlegsagain.Mybodybegantohumoncue,gratefulfortheattention.
Hunterkissedhiswaydownmychest,tookonenippleintohismouth,androlledhistonguearounditplayfully.Isighed,watchinghim.Hemovedtotheothernipple,thistimetuggingalittlewithhisteethasherubbedmyclitharder.Mywholebodyfelthotandtingly.
Histonguerolleddownmystomach,dippingbrieflyintomybellybuttoninateasing,ticklishswirl,thenfartherdownbetweenmythighs.
“Jackpot,”hemurmuredashesuckedmyclitintohismouth,spreadingmeopenwithbothhisthumbsandstretchingmetothemax.Heblewcoldairintome,andItrembledviolentlywithanimpendingorgasmbeforeheshovedhistongueinsidemeinonepunishingthrust.Thepleasurewassoprofound,mybuttscootedupthestair,andIletoutayelp.
“Ahhhhh.”
Histongueflickedmyclit,thenthrustintomeagain.Mybackarched,myentirebodyjerking.
Flick.Thrust.Flick.Thrust.
Thisprolongedmyclimax,whichmademebothgratefulandenraged.Butwhenthepinnacleofpleasurefinallyhitme,itwassogradual,sointense,everymuscleinmybodycramped,jolted,andthrashed.Iquiveredallover,myhandsreachingforhim,buthedrewbothmywriststomysides,pinningme,notlettingmetouchhim.
“Please,”Ibegged.“Please.”
Heraisedhisbody,pushingdownhissweatpantsandbriefs,hisraginghard-onrightinfrontofmyface.Iwrithedunderhimashiskneesframedmefrombothsides,hiserectioninfrontofmyface.
“Suckit,”hesaidsimply.
Iopenedmymouthandtookhimin,feelingembarrassedandgratifiedasaresult.Iwasbreakingmyownword—fromonlyfiveminutesago—becauseitfeltgood.Well,maybenottechnically.Iwasn’ttheoneonmykneesforhim.He’dleveledupwithmyface.Butthosewerejustsemantics.
IwonderedwhothehellIwasanymore.
“Cominginyourmouthnow,”hesaidbeforeIevenhadachancetosuck.Irealizedgoingdownonmealonehadgottenhimoff.Igavehimaslightnod,feelinghishandfistingmyhair,guidingmyheadthewayhewanteditwhilehecamebetweenmylips.Hot,thickliquidsliddownmythroatsmoothly.Itastedit,saltyandwarmandsticky.
Hunterpulledhiscockoutofmymouthandputhisthumbinsideofitinstead,swipingitovermycoatedtongue.Hetooktheresidueofhiscumandusedittorubmycheek.Markingme.Hetuckedhimselfbackinwithhisfreehand.
“See,baby?One-hundred-percentdomesticated.Imaybeahunter,Sailor,butIthinkinyourcase,I’dliketokeepyouasatemporarypet.”
“Ihateyou,”Isaidquietly,feelingsohotwithshameIwantedtoexplode
Hestoodup,turnedaround,andwavedhishanddismissively,hisbacktomeashewalkedoutofthebathroom.
“Youknow,I’dhaveprobablyboughtitifitwasn’tformypussybreath.Also,you’rewelcomefortheproteinshot.”Itwasacombinationofmanythingsthatlandedmeatthemall.
First,Junsuwasgivingmetwocoldshouldersasmyoneinjuredshoulderwasrecovering.ItookphysicaltherapyeverydaywithDave,theguyHunterhadhookedmeupwith.Ialsogotmyshotsandavoidedheavylifting,butJunsu’sirritationonlygrew.Ifanything,hewasnowdodgingmycallsandalwaysbusywhenIcametotherange.Igatheredhewasn’thappywiththeFitzpatricks’involvementinmycareer.Icouldn’tfullyblamehim.Straydogsweren’tloyal,andHunterwasashungryastheycome.Nottomention,hisreputationalonewouldmakeScottDisicklooklikesaltoftheEarth.
SinceI’dgottenasecondopinionfromanotherdoctoraspromised—whichmatchedtheinitialdiagnosisaboutmyshoulder—IchalkedJunsu’sbehavioruptoabruisedegoanddecidedtogivehimafewdaystochill.
Secondofall,therewasmydirefashionsituation.Iwasgettingmoreinterviewsandattendingphotoshoots,nowthatCrystalwaspushingmearound,andIpreferredtodoitinclothesthatdidn’timplyIwasmissingbothmyeyesightandcommonsense.
Thethirdreasonwas,sadly,Hunter.Ididn’twanttoconsiderhimafactor,butthetruthwas,Iwantedtoimpresshim.IwantedhimtothinkIwaspretty,tomakehimforgetabouttheEmilysandAlicesoftheworld.
Okay,ifIwasbeingcompletelyhonest,thetransformationwasninetypercentHunter-relatedandtenpercentaboutthemountingattentionfromthepressandmyexcessoffreetime.Butthatwasn’tsomethingIwaseagertosharewithanotherlivingsoul.Itcouldbemineandmy(obviouslyabsent)brain’ssecret.
Soherewewere,Aisling,Persy,Emmabelle,andI,armedwithpumpkinspicelatteseventhoughsummertemperatureswereclingingtoBoston’sfallmonthsfordearlife,refusingtoretreat,carryingourshoppingbags.
I’dpurchasedanentiretrainingwardrobeoftightblackpantsthatwereascomfyasyogapants,butlookedsleekandelegant,likecigarpants.Mybland,snugshirtshadbeenreplacedwithcropped,trendytopsfeaturinglaceandpatternsandcarefullycutdesigns,andI’dalsobeensuccessfullybulliedintobuyingafewcutedressesIhadnodoubtI’dneverwear.
I’dsworntomyfriendsthatI’dthrowawaywhattheyreferredtoasmy“boner-killing”wardrobe—mainlyyogapantsthathadseenmorewashesthanMichaelPhelps’swimtrunksandhoodiesthatweresofrayed,theyseemedtohavecreatedmoresleevesforthemselves.Todrivethepointhome,myfriendshaddecidedtoaccompanymetomyapartment.TheywantedtoseeforthemselvesthatIgotridofmyoldclothes.
“Knowwhatwouldberad?”Emmabellestoppedeverythingaswewereonourwayoutofthemall.TheonlythingIcouldthinkofwas,togetoutofhere.Iwasn’tgoingtobethatpartypooper,though.
“Gettinganewshoulder?”Iaskedwistfully.
“Cupcakes!”wholesomePersyexclaimed.
“Flightlessons,”Aislingsuggestedshyly,coveringhermouthwithhercupofjoe.
Wewerebeginningtodetectarebelliousstreakinourlittlegazillionairefriend.Itmademelikehavingheraroundevenmore.Plus,herbeingheremadethedecisionnottoconfideinmyfriendsaboutgettingeatenbyHunterFitzpatricklikeanall-you-can-eatbuffetfairlyeasy.Afterall,Aislingwasamemberofhisimmediatefamily,whichwouldmaketherevelationthatI’dmadeoutwithherbrothertwice:
Grossbeyondfriendshiprepair
Dangerous
WhatifAislingdecidedtotellherparents?Orherotherbrother,Cillian?Infact,sheneedn’teventellherfamilyforittobeadisaster.IfbychancesomeonefoundoutHunterandIhadbeenadmiringeachother’stonsilswithourtongues,andknewAislingwasprivytothatinformation,shewouldtaketheheatfornottellingherfamily.Itwasalose-losesituation.
“Sailorshouldgetahaircut,”Emmabelleemphasizedthesuggestionbysnippingtheairwithherfingers.
Ishookmyheadvehemently.
“Andakeratintreatment!”Aislingcried,wide-eyed.“Ashort,straightbobwithside-bangswouldlooksoEmmaStoneonher.”
SincewhenwasEmmaStoneanadjective?
“Andthenshe’llbeabletocaptureHunter’sheartandmakehimseethelight.”Persyclaspedherhandstogether,blinkingatthehorizondreamily.
IwantedtomaimallofthemwithThor’shammer.I’devenbreakmyno-heavy-liftingruletomakeithappen.
IshotAislingalooktoseeifshehadanyinputregardingPersy’slastcomment.HadHunterdiscussedmeatallwithhisfamily?Butherfacewasblankasapatchoffreshsnow.
I’mnotevenonhisradarwhenI’mnotrightinfrontofhisface.
“Itsoundsverytime-consuming,”Ipointedout,rubbingthebackofmyneck.“Also,Ireallydon’twanttocaptureHunter’sheart,oranyotherorgan.”
“Ioweyouabirthdaypresent.”Persyclappedonceandpointedatme,asiftosayJackpot
“What’sthehurry?YourNetflixandduvetaren’tgoinganywhere.”Emmabellegrabbedmyhand,draggingmeintoasaloncalledCitrus.Itwasfancyenoughtohostaweddingin.Thehairstylistslookedlikethey’dbeenpurgedfromanepisodeofTheHills,completewithhystericalmannerismswhilediscussingtheirfavoriteeveningcocktail.
BeforeIhadthechancetotellBelleIhadmorepressingissuesthanNetflix(hopefullyintheformofHunter’shard-onandothernotablemuscles),Iwasseatedonachair,myhairyanked,coatedwiththicklotions,washed,cut,washedagain,blow-dried,sprayed,andpulledtodeath.Iwashalf-expectingtolooklikeacontestpoodlebythetimeitwasover.
Atsomepoint,IcouldswearI’dbeenheldhostagethereforthreedaysstraight,butbythetimethehairstylist,Brandie,releasedmeintothewild,Iwantedtoshedhappytears,andnotjustbecausethetorturewasover.
Watchingmyhairinthemirrorwasagut-punchingexperience.
Slick,glossy,andsuper-straighttressesframedmyface.Inowhadsharpsidesweptbangsthatsoftenedmyjawline.Therestofthebobfelltomyshoulderslikestringsofvelvet.Icouldn’tbelieveitwasthesamecoarsehairIhadwrestledwithafterawash.
Onthetrainbackhome,EmmabelleandAislingcouldn’tstoptouchingit.Persyturnedtomeeverysooftenandmouthed,“EmmaStone”and“JustrememberyoucandobetterthanAndrewGarfield.”
Thetruthwas,gettingridoffourpoundsofhairfeltgood.Fresh,even.Icouldn’trememberwhyI’dinsistedonnotdoinganythingwithmyhairinthefirstplace.IhadspentthelastdecadesofocusedonarcheryandprovingtootherpeopleIdidn’tneedtobepopularorpretty,thattheimpactofthenewhaircutandclotheshumbledme.
AllthethingsI’dtoldmyself—thatdollingupwasshallowandself-absorbedandpointlessbecausewewereallgoingtogetoldandwrinkly—feltlikeself-righteousBSallofasudden.BecausewhileIknewIwasstillafarcryfromperfect,Ifelt…pretty.
Hunterwasn’tatthepenthousewhenwegotthere.Itwasonlyeight,andheusuallystudieduntillate.Still,Iwasconsciousofmydisappointmentathimnotbeingthere.Itwasn’tastabtotheheart,Itriedreasoningwithmyself.Justalittlepapercut.Surfaceshallow.
Iwasn’tatriskoffallinginlove.
Famouslastwords.
Iorderedenoughphoandcahnchuatosinkaship,thenproceededtotryonalltheclothesI’dboughtwhileBelleputSexandtheCityoninthebackgroundandjumpedonthecouchwearingatiarashe’dpurchasedatClaire’s,sippingwinefromthewinefridge(towhichIkeptthekeys,toensureHunter’ssobriety).
IhadsomuchfunIdidn’tevenmindwhenmyfriendsputaBillboardSpotifyplayliston.
Iwasstruttingoutofmybedroomandintothelivingroomwearinganewpairofredheelsthathadcostmetenbucks(bargain!)andamatchingredminidress,tossingmyshinyhair,whenthefrontdoorpushedopen.Hunterwalkedin,histieundone,hishairtousledtodeath,histall,muscledbodymakingallofuslooklikechildren.
Heheldhiscollegebackpackaswellashisbriefcase,backfromschool.
Istoppeddeadinmytracks,thepapercutinmyheartmultiplyingintoathousandnewones.
Cutcutcutcutcutcut.
Thesceneinfrontofhim—ofBelleandAislinggettingdrunkonfreewinecourtesyofhisfather,andPersytakingselfieswiththebackgroundviewofthecity—didn’tevenseemtoregister.Theonlypersonhelookedatwasme.
Somethingintheairchangedwhenoureyesmet,andIwonderedifmyfriendsfeltit,too—thewaytheoxygensizzledandcrackledaroundus,abonfiregainingbodyandspeedandheat.
Hislipsparted,andtheentireroomsuckedinabreath,saveforAisling.TherewasjustsomethingmagneticandanimalisticaboutHunter’spresence.
“I’dliketocashinonourdealnow,”hesaidsimply,stillignoringtherestofthegirls,liketheydidn’tevenexist.
Thedeal:“full-blown,second-base,tit-sucking,dick-gropingmakeout.Oh,andIgettorubyouoff.”
Thosewerehiswords.Notmine.Mymouthwentdry.
“Asyoucansee,I’mhangingoutwithfriends.”ImotionedclumsilytoEmmabelle,Persy,andAisling.Thelatterplacedherwineglassonthecoffeetableandpretendedtoreadsomethingonherphone,frowningprimly.
“Asyoucansee…”herepliedinthesamemeasuredvoice,andsuddenly,themusicstoppedandIkneweverybodywasgluedtoourexchange.“Idon’tgiveaflyingfuck.”Hiseyesdippedtohisgroin,andIfollowedhislineofvision,findinghimhard.Fromthisposition—himstandinginfrontofme—Iwastheonlyonewhocouldseeit.Still,thedangerofgettingcaughtthrilledme.
Ishothimacourteoussmile.“Youcanwait.”
“Ortheycango,”hecountered.“Adealisadeal,andImaybeabadbusinessman,butlikeeveryFitzpatrick,Idon’ttakelightlytobeingfuckedover.”
Inmyperiphery,Emmabelleclearedherthroatandbegantocollectherthings.Persydidthesame,andAislinghurriedtothekitchentoemptyherwineglassinthesinkandrinseit.Iwonderedwhattheywerethinking.HowbadlyIwasgoingtogetgrilledforthisscene?Ididn’tknowwhyHunterwassocarelessinimplyingweshouldsleeptogether.Therewerethreeeyewitnesseshere.Allofthemcouldpotentiallysellusout.Iknewmyfriendsweretrustworthyandwouldneverdoit.Buthedidn’t.
Prickly,defiant,andtiredofthetinypapercutsinmyheart,Ijerkedmychinup.Hecouldn’tkeeppushingmearound.Iwas,afterall,hiskeeper.
“Myfriendsarestaying,”Isaidicily.“Feelfreetotreatyourselftoacoldshowerifyoucan’thandletheheat.”Iturnedaround,marchedtothesofa,andrestartedSexandtheCity.Icouldfeelthecontemplativegazesscorchingmyface.Iputonmydon’t-screw-with-meexpressionandallthreeofmyfriendsscootedontothecouchnexttome,thoughtheylookedmorelikeprisonersthanwillingparticipants.
“Hmm…Hi,Hunt.Momsaysshe’striedcallingyouallweek,”Aislingmumbled,hereyesgluedtoherlap.
Hunterignoredher,stillsettingmeonfirewithhiseyes.
“Hey,Fitzpatrick.”Emmabellecrossedheranklesonourcoffeetable,makingherselfcomfortable.“Lookinggoodinathree-piece.Boss?”
“Please,”hehuffed,lookingdownather.“DoIlookbroke?Brioni.”
“Wow.”Emmabellewhistledlow,andforsomereason,IwaspatheticallyecstatictofindHunterwascompletelyimmunetothecharmsofmygorgeous,stylishfriend.“You’reevenmoreofadickheadthantherumorsleton.”
“Dickistheoperativeword,”hegrumbled,stompinghiswaytohisroom,hiseyesstillonme.“Withnoonetoappreciateit.”
ThatwasmycuetoturntomatoredandwishuponhimeveryexcruciatingdeathrecordedonEarth.AssoonasHunterwasoutofearshot,alleyessnappedbacktome.
“CanIsaysomethingbeforeeveryonebombardsyouwiththeirtwocents?”Aislingraisedherhandtimidly,likewewereinaclassroom.
“No,”IshotoutatthesametimePersyandEmmabellesaidyes
Sheclearedherthroat,rearrangingherselfonmyHunter’scouch.
“Ilovemybrotherdearly.Heisactuallyaterrificpersonwhenyougettoknowhim.Peoplejudgehimbytheheadlineshemakes,butIknowhimastheguywhocomesvisitingeveryholidaywithpresentsandhugsandfunnystoriesabouthislife.But…Sailor,heisaplayer.Hemakesyouthinkyou’rethecenterofhisworldwithoutevenmeaningto,thendisappearswhenhegetsboredandtiredofyou.Andhealwaysgetsboredandtiredofwomen.I’veseenhimparadingnolessthantwenty-threedatesintheyearshestudiedinCalifornia.Hebroughtanewgirlhomeeachvacation—sometimesgoingthroughtheminthecourseofhours,liketheywereunderwear.Iwillnevertellmyparentsaboutyoutwo.Itisnotmybusinesstotell.However…”Shelookedaway,outthewindow,soIcouldn’treadherface.
Whatwasshehopingtohide?Pity?Secondhandembarrassment?
Sheshookherhead.“AllI’msayingis,rememberit’sjustforthetimebeing.I’dliketothinkthatoneday,Hunterwillfindhislobster.Butatnineteen,it’sunlikelyitwillbeanytimesoon.”
SilencefelloverusasweconsideredwhatAislinghadjustsaid.
“Lobstersdon’tmateforlife,”Iblurted,andeveryonelookedatmeinconfusion.Ipouredtheremainderofthewineintoaglass,bringingittomymouthwithashrug.“Sorry,butFriendsisn’tthemostreliablesourceforgeneralknowledge.Phoebe,inparticular,alwaysseemedlikealoosecannontome.Anyway,lobstersdonot,infact,mateforlife.Actually,thedominantmalelobstermateswithanentireharemoffemalelobstersinaseriesofflingsthatlastsapproximatelytwoweeks.Basically,lobstersarenotlikeswansorpenguins.Theyarenotmonogamous.Theyarethedouchebagsoftheanimalkingdom—theoneswhovomitintopeople’sshoesduringfratpartiesafterlosingbetsandownseveralInstagramaccounts.Ifthereeverwereananimaldeservingofbeingboiledalive,shriekinginhorror,toatoneforitssins,itwouldbethelobster.NotthatIabsolvethiskindofbehaviortowardlobsters.They,too,arepeople,afterall.”Ifinishedwithalamejoke,asiftheentiremonologuewasn’tmental-institution-worthyenough.
Theystaredsilently.Isupposedtheywereaskingthemselveswhatintheever-lovingGodIwastalkingabout.Whywasn’tIgettingtothepointofHunterandme?Idecidedtowrapitup,gulpingdownthewineandplacingtheemptyglassonthecoffeetable.
“So,IguesswhatI’mtryingtosayis,Hunterisalobster.Iknowthat.Restassured,Aisling,ifIeverfoundmyselfinastateoftemporaryinsanityanddecidedtotakeyourbrotherasalover,Iwouldbesuretorememberheisnotthemarryingkind.”
IttookPersy,Emmabelle,andAislingafewbeatsofsilencetocollectthemselves.Afterthat,Emmabellewasthefirsttospeak.
“Snap,bitch.Youcaughtfeelingsforhim.”
Persycoveredhermouthwithherringedhand.“PoorSailor.Thisisbeyondcurable.Didyouhearthatmonologue?Sheislegitagoner.”
“Lostcause.”Aislingnoddedgravely,doingthesignofthecross,mourningtheprematuredeathofmylogic.Icouldseewheretheywerecomingfrom.Hunterwasdangerous.Hetossedmorselsofsympathyandsweetnessmywayonemoment,andwasharshandclosedoffthenext.Hewasentirelytoounpredictableformetocountonintheheartdepartment
Ortheputting-the-toilet-seat-downdepartment.
Oranydepartment,really.
“Maybehefeelsthesame.Thatwastheplan,afterall.Gettingthemtofallinlove,”Persymused.
“Doubtful.YouheardAisling.Hunter’smanwhore-nessisworsethanwethought.”Emmabellefrowned,likeshewasinthemiddleofcalculatingournextmove
“Idon’tevenlikehim.”Iallbutbaredmyteeth,burstingintonervouslaughter.Myphonebuzzedwithatextmessage.Itwasthefood.PersywenttopickitupfromthelobbywhileIshookmyhead,prayingthewallswerethickenoughforHunternottohearthis.
“Justbecareful.”Aislingrubbedmyarm.
“Jee.Sus.WhatmakesyouthinkIwanttodoanythingotherthanpunchyourbrother’sface?”
“Thefactthatyoujustverypassionatelydescribedtoushowdispassionateyouareabouthim?”Emmabelleoffered.
“Youalsolookedathimlikeyouwereabouttojumphisbones,”Aislingsupplied,tuckingherchintoherchest.
“Additionally,yourfaceturnedredtheminutehewalkedin,andhasyettotakeonamorehumanshade,”Emmabelleconcluded.
“Sorrytodisappoint,butthere’snothinggoingonbetweenus.”Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest.NowIwasfull-blownlying,butIwastoomortifiedtobacktrack.HowdumbwasItoeverlethimtouchme?Toletthingsprogressthewaytheyhad?
“Okay,”Aislingsaid.
“Right,”Emmabelleechoed.
“Food’shere!”Persyburstthroughthedoorwithtwohugeplasticbagsinherhands.Huntermaterializedfromthehallway,freshlyshowered,hisblondcurlsdampanddeliciousagainsthisglowingskin,cladinhiseternalgraydesignersweatpantsandablackmuscleshirtthatshowedoffhisripped,bronzeabs.
“You’reneeded.”Hepointedatme.
“Whatfor?”Ieyedhimwarily.Iflookscouldkill,Hunterwouldbeslicedinhalf,bleedingonthemarblefloor.
“Gotaspiderinmybedroom,andIneedyoutokillit.”
ItwasthelamestexcuseI’deverheard.
Aislinglookedup,horrified.“YouaskSailortodothosethings?”Shewrinkledhernose.
Hunteracknowledgedhissisterforthefirsttimesincehe’dgottenhomewithafrostylook.
“Chauvinismisbeneathyou,Ash.Thisisthetwenty-firstcentury.Yougotanyideahowbangin’Ilookinanapron?Come,CT.”
CT.God.Iwasgoingtostabhim.
“CT?”Emmabelleraisedathick,carefullybrushedeyebrow.
“CarrotTop,”hesupplied.
“Wow,you’reajerk,”shemuttered.
“Waittillyoumeetmyolderbrother.Hemakesmurderersinsolitaryconfinementlooklikeabasketfullofkitties.”
“Aspower-drunkasIamtorisetotheoccasion,youcandoityourself.”Ilookedaway,helpingPersyarrangeallthefoodonthecoffeetable.
“BeendoingenoughDIYunderthisroof.”Hewavedhisrighthand,winningchortlesfromPersyandBelleandadisgustedlookfromhissister.“Butnosweat.GuessI’lltransferthespiderstraighttoyourroom.”
Therewasn’tanyspider.Iknewit.Heknewit.OnlymyfriendshadsuchlittlefaithinhimthattheyactuallybelievedHunterwascapableoftaskingmewiththismess.
“Youdothat.Putitonmypillow.SomewhereIcanfindit.”
“Gotit,boss.”Hemock-saluted,turningaroundandmarchingbackdownthehallway.Ipoppedatempurazucchiniintomymouth,pretendingnottoobsessovertheslightchancetherewasaspider,andthatitwasabouttobeputonmypillow.IfHunterdidfindaspidertouseasanexcusetogetmealone,Ihadnodoubthe’dretaliatebymakinggoodonhispromise.Ifanything,thatwouldmakememigratetothelivingroomorhisbedroomforthenight.
Cunning,blue-bloodedbastard.
Andhisfamilythoughthewasstupid.
Huntermadeashowofgoingintohisen-suitebathroomasloudashumanlypossible,filingfromhisroomtomine,whistlingtheKillBillthemesongcalmly.Emmabelleburstoutlaughing,whilePersyandAislingexchangedworriedlooks.Istayedput,mybodyhummingwiththeneedtojumpandtakealook.
Aspider.
Onmypillow.
Thesuspensewaskillingme.
Maybethespideritselfwasnext.Whatifitwasablackwidow?Ared-backedspider?
Ishottomyfeet.“I’mjustgoingto…”Imotionedwithmyhandtomyroom.
Myfriendsnoddedinunison.
“Yeah,youprobablyshould,”Persysqueaked.
Isailedthroughthehallwayonthosedamnheels,lookingleftandright,findingHuntertroopingbacktohisroom,hisbacktome.Ichasedhim,snatchingthehemofhismuscleshirt.Heignoredme,essentiallydraggingmeintohisroom,sinceIdidn’tletgo.Ratherthangivingmethetimeofday,hecontinuedstraightintohisbathroom,disposingapieceoftissueintothetrashcan.
ThetissueheusedtomovethespiderfrompointAtopointB?
“Thereisn’taspider.”Iscowledathim.
Oureyesmetinthemirror.Helookeddowntoturnthetapon,asmallsmileonhisface.Hetookhistime,washinghishandsfromtheprobablyimaginaryspider,towelingthemoff,thenturningaroundtofaceme.Whenhedid,hecrowdedmewithhisbody,makingmetakeastepbacktowardtheshower.Theglassdoorwasopen,andmyinjuredshoulderbumpedintoit.Iwinced.
Hunterpickedupawispofmyfreshlycuthair,rubbingit.Webothwatchedthemagnificentsoftnessofit,sodelicateIfearedit’dmeltlikebutterbetweenhisfingertips.
“Choppingyourhairoffwon’tstopmefromgrabbingitwhenwehavesex,”hesaidtonelessly.
Ilookedaway,feelingmyfaceheat.“Isthere,orisn’tthereaspiderinmybedroom?”Iasked,mybreathdancingbehindmyribcage.
Hunterstillfrownedatmyhair,takinganotherstepforward.Itookanotherstepbackward,carefulnottohitthetiles.
“Slylittlebansheeyouare,lettingusallbelieveyouweredull-looking.”
“Iamdull-looking,”Icountered,stillworriedaboutthespider.
Heshookhishead,hisgazeslidingfrommyhairtomyeyes.
“WhatamIgoingtodowithyou,aingealdian?”Hewrappedhishandsaroundmyneckandface,tiltingmyheadupward.
Watchinghimwatchmefeltlikebeingburiedalive.Beforehiseyeslandedonme,I’dfeltlikeIwaswearingthewrongskin,thewrongface.Becauseofhisgaze,Ifeltbeautiful,andthatwasseriouslyaddictive.
Itookanotherstepbackinvoluntarily.Thistimemybackdidhitthetileswithasoftthud.
“Weneedtostop,”Icroaked.
“Stopwhat?”Hefeignedinnocence,hisintenseexpressionturningblank.
“Thisthingbetweenus.You’reamasteratflings.I’mnot.Ijustcameheretoknowifthere’saspiderinmyroom.”
“Thereisn’t,”hesaideasily,oneofhishandsreachingbehindme.“Andlet’snotinsultyourintelligencebypretendingthiswasaboutthefuckingspider.”
“You’retheonewhocameupwiththisscheme,”Iremindedhim.
Iwonderedaboutnumbersashisbodyinchedclosertomine,tantalizinglyhotandinvitingandirresistible.
NumberofheartsthatperishedintheHunter-stormwake.
Numberoftimeshe’dheardthewordnoandeffortlesslyturneditintoayes
Numberoftearsshedbecauseofthisgorgeouscreature,whocouldn’thelpbeingwhohewas.
“Aye,”hehissed,pressingmeagainstthetilesnow,mychestagainsthisupperbelly,ourthighsaligned,ourmouthsalmostbrushing.“ButI’mneveraboveinsultingmyownintelligence.”
“HunterFitzpatrick,whatareyourintentionswithmyvirtue?”Ilookedup,askingforthefirsttimeinareal,straightforwardfashion.
Hesmirkeddownatme.
“Funnyyoushouldask,MissBrennan.I’mafraidI’mgoingforcompletedestruction.”
Withoneswiftmovement,heturnedontheshowerspray,soakingusboth.Iletoutacry,holdingontohisbodyasthecoldwaterpeltedmyfleshpunishingly.IheardhisgravellylaughashescoopedmeupandwrappedmearoundhimlikeIwasanoctopus,dippinghismouthtominebeforeIcouldprotest.
Somewhereinthebackofmyhead,IrememberedIhadfriendswaitinginthelivingroom,andthatoneofthemwasblood-relatedtothepersondevouringmeinhisshower,whilewewerebothfullyclothed—mewithareddressandmatchingheelsstillon.
Italsodidn’tescapemethatIwasmakingtheverysamemistakeI’dvowednottomakeinthelivingroomminutesago,whenAislingremindedmewhoherbrotherwas.ButIwascompletelyhelpless.Captivatedunderhisspell.
“You’realobster,”Imumbledintoourkissashistongueexploredtheinsideofmymouth.Myhandfoundhisshaftthroughhissweatpantsandrubbedofitsownaccord,feelingitswellandjerk.Hewasmyself-medication.Myalcohol.Mycocaine.Myun-prescribedADHDpill,designedtoenhancemyemotionalperformance.
“IsthisaFriendsreference?BecauseI’mGen-Zandnotcompletelyimmersedinpopularninetiesculture.”Hepushedmypantiestothesideundermydress,fingeringme.Igroanedashisfingersmetmyinsidesagain.Myfleshwasstillsorefromhimenteringmewithhisfingersandtongueyesterday.Buteverysoreinchofmewrappedagainsthim,squeezingandwelcominghimlikeavise.
Welcomehome.
“Lobstersarenature’swhore.Theyjusthavethisawesomereputationasmonogamouscreatures.Whichis…stupid.Sostupid.Theyareliterallythecockroachesoftheocean,”Iblabbed,lettinghimkissmewhilethewaterpoundedonus.Hehmmedintomyneck,hismouthmovingdowntomybreasts.
“Ihatelobsters.”Isighedashisfingerscurledinthatwaythatmademyinsidesclench.Iwasdesperatetostayoutsidethemoment,toabsorbfromafar.“AndIhateFriends.”
Hestoppeddevouringme,takingastepback.Waterdrippedfromthetipofhisstraight,narrownose.Hissquare,dimpledchinandpoutylipsglistenedwithwater.Itclungtohiseyelashes—hehadgreatlashes,likeZaynMalik—enhancinghisruthlessbeautyevenmore.
“Areweokay?”Heslopedhischindown.Itwasweagain.
Ishookmyhead.“Iknowwemadeadeal,Hunter,butIdon’tknowifIcandothisagain.”
“Dowhat?”
“Kissyou.Suckyouoff.Haveyourmouthonme.Asyousaid,thisistemporary,andIdon’tknowhowyou’regoingtowalkoutofthis,butifI’mbeinghonestwithmyself,IthinkImightgethurtifIletitgofurther.I’mthattypeofgirl.”
“Whattypeisthat?”
“Theonewhogetsattached.”
“You’restrongerthangettingattachedtothelikesofme.”
“Iamstrong,yes.Butbeingstrongdoesn’tmeannevergettinghurt.Itmeanshavingahighpaintolerance.I’mnotdumbenoughtoampitup.”
Hesobered,scrubbinghischeekbonewithhisknuckles.Hunterturnedoffthewater,whichsomehowmademefeelevencolder.Icouldn’treadhisface.Hehadmanyfacialexpressions,addedproofhewasfarfromstupid.
Heregardedmewithcoldcourtesy.
“Isthatwhyyouchangedyourhair?Gotanewwardrobe?Becauseyoudon’twantustocontinuedoingthis?”heaskedevenly.Hewastooproudandself-assuredtobehurtbythis.
Iletmyshouldersriseandfall.“MaybeIwantedtoimpressyou.Butyoushouldn’tletme.”
“Toolate,”hesaid,reachingforhistowelandthrowingitintomyhands.“Butifthat’swhatyouwant,Irespectthat.”
“Doyoureally?”
Hebobbedhisheadinasilentyes.Itfeltliketheendofsomethingbig.Somethinglife-altering.SomethingMomandDadhadbeenprayingfor.
IwipedmyselfoffasmuchasIcouldandreturnedtothelivingroomwithmytailbetweenmylegs.Noneofmyfriendsaskedmeaboutmydamphairorsullenexpression.Iwatchedthemeat,huggedthemgoodbye,andobservedthemfromthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsastheyhuddledtowardthetrainstation,figureshunched,probablytalkingaboutthecuriouscaseofthespider.
Idraggedmyselftobed.
Sleepnevercame.Songoftheday:“ICan’tGetNoSatisfaction”byTheRollingStones.
ThedayafterSailorcockblockedme,everybodyseemeddeliciouslymurder-able
Dawasacunt,Cillian’shornswereextrapointy,andSylliewasholedupinhisgoddamnoffice,notdoinganythingsuspiciousornoteworthy.Knoxwasonpayrollrecordinghisassprettymuchtwenty-four-sevenandlivinginavantomakesurehecaughteveryconversationthefuckerhad,andstill,nothing.
IgothitonbytwosecretarieswhoforgotthememothatIwastheofficeairheadorweresentbyDaasatest.Iturnedthemdowninaless-than-politefashion(“Mycockisondickation”).
IthoughtabouttextingSailor—cameclosetodoingitthreetimes—butrealizeditwouldbeselfish.
Anyway,shewasn’tcompletelywrong.
Ourbitchofanarrangementhadthreemonthstorunitscourse,andthenshewasgoingtobeatit(andIwouldfinallystopbeatingoneout).
Obviously,Iwouldbesadtoseehergo,butkeepingherhadneverbeenanoption.IfIhadtoguess,thelossofSailorwouldfeellikethelossofareallygoodpizzasomeassholesneezedon.It’dsuckballs,butatleastI’dhavehadataste,andthereweremorerestaurantstochoosefrom.
Anyway.
Sailorwasn’ttherewhenIcamehomethateveningfromanothergruelingnightclass.ThistimeIdidtexther,justtomakesureshewasokay.Shewas.ShetextedbackthatshewasreturningtothearcheryclubafterspendingtimewithAshandtheSweet’NLowversionoftheOlsentwins.SailorwasspendingalotoftimewithAsh,whichmademebelievemaybeI’dseeherevenafterourarrangementwasdonezo.
Onlyforthattowork,I’dhavetopickupmymom’scallsandactuallyspendtimewithmyfamily.Thatwasn’tgoingtohappenanytimesoon,thoughI’dpromisedDatoattendfamilysocialfunctions.
Thefollowingnight,IcrashedbeforeSailormadeithome.Today,I’dleftheranotewithacoffeebeforeIwenttowork,wishingheragoodday,becauseapparentlyIwasturningintosomeone’ssweetgrandma.
ThefirstthingInoticedatworkwasthatSylvesterwasn’tthere.
“SeenSyllie?”IstuckmyheadintoCillian’soffice.Hewassittingbehindhisdesk,drowninginrefineryblueprints.Hewaswearingatailor-madeOxxfordandhadhishairslickedbackneatly.Hewaspunchabletoagoddamnfault.
Helookedup,hislipspuckeringinannoyanceatmyexistence.IknewIcrampedhisstylewithmygeneralloser-ness.ItwaslikerunningtheWhiteHousewithDavidHasselhoffasvicepresident.
“Hiswifeisgoingthroughaminormedicalprocedure.Hewon’tbeheretoday.”
“Noshit.Sheokay?”Icouldn’thidemymirth,whichsucked.ButhisabsencemeantIcouldsnooparoundhisoffice.Ihopeditwasn’tanythingserious—justlike,removingamoleorgettingaboobjob(ifthosewereevenathinganymore.Everybodyknewtheworldwasallaboutass-plantsnow).
“Andwhat,praytell,madeyoumistakemeforsomeonewhocares?”
Iopenedmymouthtoanswer,butheshooedmeawaywithaflickofhiswrist,hiseyesstillontheblueprints.“Nevermind.Life’stooshorttohearyouranswer.”
“Asshole,”Imuttered,gloweringathim.
“That,Iam.Andasone,Itendtoshitoverthosewhopissmeoff.Betterstepback,ceannbeag.”
Afterthosepartingwords,IboltedtoSyllie’soffice,drewtheblindstohisglasswalls,andstartedsiftingthroughhisdrawerstofindanythingthatcouldcluemeinonhisplans.
Iwasabouttoleavehisofficeempty-handedwhenInoticedsomethingonhisdesk,inplainsight—somewhereIhadn’teventhoughttolook.Apieceofpaper.Ireversed,frowningatit.Itwasalistofnames.MostofthemIdidn’trecognize,butonestoodout,becauseitwasthesamechickwhodidPRforSailor.WhywouldSyllieneedPR?Whatscandalwasheplanningonextinguishing?Hewasn’trunningforpoliticaloffice,thatwasfordamnsure.Hewasthekindoffuckfacewhoonlycaredaboutmakingmoney.Thepublicsectorwouldn’tappealtohim.Itookapictureofthenameswithmyphone,makingamentalnotetoGooglethem,anddashedout.
TheminuteIwasoutofhisoffice,Icollidedwithadaintybody.
“Hunter,”adelicateshriekwhined.
“Mom?”
Ech.
SheclutchedherlittleBalenciagapursetoherchest,wearingadresswithamatchingpattern.JaneFitzpatrickhadbroughtthelooksintotheunionbetweenherandDa,andItookafterherinthatdepartment.Shelookedbeautiful,andequallyaspissy.Eyebrowspinchedtogether,mouthflat.
“You’vebeenavoidingmycalls,”shesaid.NoHi.NoHowareyoudoing?Straighttostatingthefuckingobvious.
You’vebeenavoidingme,Iwantedtocounter.Forthirteenyears,tobeexact.WhenDawantedtosendmeaway,youshould’vesaidno.WhenIgotkickedoutofEton,youshould’vebroughtmeback.Youneverfoughtforme,Mom.WhywouldIfightforyou?
“Beenbusy.”Ipoppedacinnamongumintomymouth,startingformystationoutsideDa’soffice.Backtomydoggyspot.“Needanything?”
Parentingclasses?
Moralcompass?
Afuckingheart?
“Yes.Sometimewithmyson.”
Ahhh,notthat.Shecontinued,undeterred,asshequickenedherpacetocatchupwithme.
“Yourfathersaidwe’dbeseeingmoreofyou,thatitwasapartofyourdeal.ButeverytimeIcontactSailorregardingmakingarrangementsfordinner,shesaysyou’retoobusy,andyouneveransweryourphone.”
Sailorhadbeencuttingmesomemajorslackinrecentweeks.Truthwas,Istraightupdodgedthem.SofarI’dmanagedtodoprettywell.Betweencollege,work,Sailor’sinjury,andthatpubbrawl,mylifehadbeenagoodiebagofcalamities.
“Shame,Mom.Well,anyway,we’veseeneachothertoday,whichhasbeengood.Great.Thatshouldtideusoveruntilnextmonth.”
“Actually,you’recomingthisweek.”Herhighheelsstubbedthemarblefloorangrily.Ifeltlikeanassholeformakingherchaseme,butnotenoughtostop.
“Explain.”Iroundedthecorner.Shefollowed.
“ItalkedtoSailor.Shesaidshe’llmakeyoucome,nomatterwhat.”
Thatcertainlywasn’twhatshetoldmewhenIactuallytriedtocomewithherinmyarms,Ithoughttestily.Still,itannoyedmethatmygriponSailorwasloosening.Shereallywastakingastepbackfromthatthingbetweenus,hencetheplanswithmymom.
“She’smyPAnow.Sweet.”Istoppedatmydeskandflippedthroughfileswithoutpurposejusttolookbusy.“Well,it’ssettled,then.Anythingelse?”
“Yes.It’sonFriday.I’mcooking.AndIhaveanotherquestion.”
“Ofcourseyoudo.”
IwasturningintoCillian,andIhatedit.Beingacuntdidnotcomeeasilytome.
“WhatdidIeverdotomakeyouhateme?”Shelookedupatme,andIcouldseeinmyperipherythathereyeswereshiningwithunshedtears.Fuck.Thiswasn’taconversationIwantedtohave—intheofficeoratall.Ididn’tlookupfromthefileIwasbrowsingthrough.
“Nothing.Ithinkit’ssafetosayyoudidabsolutelynothingforme,”Isaid,amending,“Imean,tome.”
Iclosedthefilewithathud,sparingherthelookshe’dbeenbeggingfor.
TheideaofhavingSailorwatchfirsthandhowlittlemyfamilythoughtofmewasinfuriating,butinevitable.Shealreadykindofhad,atthecharitybullshit,butshehadn’tbeensittingwithus,soitwasn’tlikeshe’dexperienceditfromthefrontrow.Ishouldn’tcare,anyway.Asestablished,wewerenothingtoeachother.
“Iwishyouknewthewholestory.”Shesniffed,lookingdown.
“IwishIcared.”
HHH:Thanksfortheambushdinner.
Sailor:Anytime.
HHH:←Notgoing.
Sailor:↑NotoptionalI’mafraid.Myparentsaregoingtobethere.Sam,too.
HHH:Soundslikeanintervention.
Sailor:Nope.You’vegotyoursh*ttogether.
HHH:Ican’tbelieveIwentdownonachickwhodoesn’tspellthewordshit.
Sailor:Hunter!
HHH:What?It’slikeonestepawayfromanun.Ifeellikethisisbucket-list-worthy.CanIstrikeoffnun?
Sailor:I’magnostic.
HHH:I’llshowyouthelight.
Sailor:You’vealreadyshownmeplentyofthings.Noneofthemgodly.
HHH:Notaccordingtoyourmoans.
Noanswer.OfcourseIhadtotakeitonesteptoofar.ThiswaswhenIusuallygaveuponachick,chalkingitupastoomuchwork.ButwithSailor,herdefianceturnedmeon.
HHH:AmIgoingtoseeyoutoday?
Sailor:I’mwatchingtapesafterpracticeuntillate.ThenIhaveaphotoshootforasportsmag.
HHH:*Crossesofffingeringacelebrity,too.*
HHH:I’llwait.What2DoorDash?
Sailor:Dotheydelivermanners?
HHH:Sushiwithasideofmysuperiorsenseofhumoritis.
Sailor:Trytomakesurethedeliverypersonkeepstheirclothesonthistime.
HHH:Nopromises.
Thatnight,SailorandIhadsushiwhilelisteningtoSyllie’stapesandtryingtodecodesomeofhisconversations.Itfeltlikebuddystudyingforatesttogetherorsomeshit.Ikeptpunctuatingmyspeechwithmychopsticksandaskingher:“Andwhataboutthat?”“Didyouhearwhathejustsaid?”“Doesthatsoundsuspicious?”
Wecametosomeconclusions,thoughnotexactlygroundbreakingshit.SylliedefinitelyhatedCillianwithShakespeareanfuckingpassion.HehatedDa,too,buttriedtoremainprofessionalwhentalkingshitabouthim.Hedidn’ttalkaboutmeatall,somethingneitherInorSailorpointedoutforthesakeofmyego,whichcurrentlywasunsalvageablydestroyed.
RIP,pride.Canyoumisssomethingyou’veneverhad?
“Ithink,”Sailorsaidasshepackeduptheemptycontainers,gettingreadytothrowthemintotherecyclingbin,“heisdefinitelyhidingsomething.Andifyouwantsomethingbadenough—morethanthepersonyou’reupagainst—youalwaysgetit.So,yeah,youcannailhim.”
I’drathernailyou.“Areyouspeakingfromexperience?”Iasked.IwantedtoknowwhyshealwayslookedonestepawayfromdismemberingLanaAlder.NotthatSailorneededmuchtogetriledup,butherhatredtowardthehotarcherseemedpersonal,intimate.Iknewmyroommate,andshedidn’tblacklistpeopleunlesstheyweremajor-leaguecunts.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaidquietly.“GuessI’llfindoutsoon.”
“I’veseenherinaction.”Islam-dunkedanemptycanofLaCroixstraightintotherecycling.WebothknewwhoIwastalkingabout.“She’snotanatural-bornarcher.Sheain’tyou.”
“Talentisjustoneingredient.Itdoesn’tmakeforaperfectlyexecuteddish.Thereareotherfactorstoconsider.”Shekeptherselfbusytidyingthecoffeetable.
“Youhavetherecipe,too.”Itookthetrashfromher,disposingofitmyself.
“Thenwhyisshewinning?”sheaskedsoftlybehindme.“Becauserightnow,itlookslikeshedoes.WhatdoesshehavethatIdon’t?”
“Fame.”MybackwasstilltoherasIcontinuedmovingabout.
“Andbeauty,”shefinished.
Iwantedtosaythatno,LanaAlderdidn’tholdacandletohermysterious,punch-to-the-ballsbeauty.ThatSailorhaddisciplineandpassionandmorals,andyoucouldn’tbeatthosewithatoothy,whitesmile.
Iknew,becauseIwasaLana,andthedudeswiththetalentalwaysleftmeeatingdustwhenitcametothefinishline.
LookatmyfriendVaughn,whogotaninternshipinEngland.
OrKnight,whowasattendinghiscollegeofchoiceandslayingthefuckoutoflife.
Iwantedtosayrealitycatchesupwiththemyth.Always.
Instead,Iwalkedbacktoherandkissedhertemple.“Justfame,”Isaid.
Shenodded,seemingtounderstandallIwasn’tsaying.Sailorreciprocatedbypressingherhandovermyheart,stoppingmefrommovingaway.
“AboutSyllie,”shesaid.“Whathesaidaboutyou…Ijustwanttosharesomethingmyfatheroncetoldme.Hesaidifyoulovesomeone,andtheyloveyou,there’snopointtakingoffenseinwhattheysayordotoyou,becausetheynevermeanyouharm,anyway.Andifyoudon’tlovesomeone,ifyoudon’tcareaboutthem,thenthere’snopointintakingoffenseinwhattheysayordotoyou,becauseyoudon’tcareaboutthem.Eitherway—”
“Youdon’tgetoffended,”Ifinished.Itwasafairpoint;evenIhadtoagree.
Shesmiled.“Yes.ThisSylvesterLewisguy,youdon’tcareabouthim.Don’tmakeitpersonal,then.Justbringhimdown.”
Wesharedanawkwardhug,duringwhichIwonderedwhenmylimbshadturnedsogoddamnclumsy,andthenIretiredtomybedroombeforeIdidsomethingstupid.
IgotanincomingtextmessagebeforeI’devenclosedthedoor.Sailor?
Maybeshechangedhermind.
Maybeit’sabootycall.
Thattemplekisswasakiller.
Butno,itwasAlice,myoldflame.Thechickmyfathermayormaynothavepaidafortunetokeephermouthshut.Ineverbotheredtoaskherifshejumpedonthebandwagon,becausetheanswerwouldhurtlikeabitch.Still,I’dmessedaroundwithhernotevenweeksago.Whatwasfuckingwrongwithme?
Everything,youmoron.That’swhyyouhaveababysitter.
Iopenedthemessage.Itwasanotherthirsttrap.Thistimeapictureofherpink-lace-coveredcrotchwithherhandshovedinsidethepanties.Realsubtle.Itwasfollowedbyanactualtext.
Alice:Skype??
Iturnedmyphonetosilentandcrashed,dreamingofSailorstraddlingmyfaceandridingit.
WhenIwokeup,allIhadwerenocturnalemission,akillerheadache,andathirstforSyllie’sblood.HunterusedaGPSapptogettohisparents’giganticmansion.
Hedidn’tknowthewaybyheart,somethingheadmittedtomewithasullenfrownthatrippedthroughmychestlikeabear’sclaws.Wehadtobebuzzedintothepremisesafterwaitingattheiron-wroughtgateforfifteenminutesforaservanttoopenforus.
“SorryIdon’thaveakey,”hemumbledsourly.Inodded.
“God.ThisplacelooksliketheCastleofOtranto.Yousureyourgrandfather’sghostisn’troamingaround?”
“Ifitis,Ibetit’stakenupresidenceinthehelpquarter’sbathrooms.Hewasanotoriousrake.”
“Takesonetoknowone.”
“I’dbehidingintheshowers—notmyparents’.Butdamn,it’dbeagoodtime.”
Thetripupthedrivewentsilently,mecladinasensible,off-whitedress—mainlytoappeasehisparents—andHunterwithasourfrown.Thegatesrolledclosedslowlybehindus,almosttauntinglyso.
Myparentsweregoingtocrapthemselveswhentheysawmewearingsomethingsofeminine,butIknewHunterwasonedgeaboutthisvisitandwantedthingstogoassmoothlyaspossible.
Guiltalsognawedatmygutforshuttinghimdownfortherestoftheweekleadingtotoday.Partofitwasaboutprotectingmyselffromgettingattachedtohim,andtheotherpartwastryingtoextinguishpublicrelationsfires.
ThedayafterHunterandIsharedsushiandthattemplekiss,LanaAlderhadchallengedmetodiscussthefeudbetweenusduringherappearanceonRiseandShine,America.IwatchedthevideoonYouTubeonrepeatwhilesittingonthetoilet,longafterIfinishedmymorningpee.She’dgrinnedslylyassheturnedtothecamera.
“IwishIcouldbeassupportivetoSailorBrennanasIamtowardmyotherOlympicsisters.Unfortunately,shedidsomethingunforgivabletome.Ithinkit’shightimesheaddresseditpublicly,seeingasshe’sbeenrelentlesslypromotingherselfinthemedia.PeopleneedtoknowtherealSailorBrennan,notthepersonshetriestoappeartobe.”
Lanawentontosuggestthatsomeonewithheavypocketsmustbebackingme,butshemadeitsoundlikewhoeveritwasalsorolledmebetweentheirsheets.IgotaphonecallfromCrystalnotanhouraftertheinterviewaired,herphlegmysmoker’scoughassaultingmyear.
“YouhavetotellmewhathappenedbetweenyouandLanasoI’llknowhowtoapproachthis.”
“Ican’t,”Icroaked.Ididn’twanttorepeatitinanyone’sears.
“Thatbad?”
Inodded,forgettingshecouldn’tseeme.Isqueezedmyeyesshut.“Itwasanaccident.”
Hunterhadtriedtotalktomeaboutitafewtimes,butconfidinginhimwouldhaveledtomorequestions,whichequaledmoreintimacy,whichresultedintotaldisaster.
Wefinallyreachedhisparents’house,andourcarslidaroundthecircledrive.Hunterparkednexttoahandcraftedfountain:thesilhouetteofamaidenholdingabowlaboveherhead,thewaterpouringfromitaroundherlikeawaterfall.Thefountain—astherestoftheestate—waslitinwarm,champagnelights.Inoticedmyfather’sMaseratialreadyparkedthere,aswellasSam’smatte-finishPorsche911andabrandnewblackAstonMartinValkyriethatadmittedlylookedlikeasquashedladybug.
Hunterroundedmycartoopenthedoorforme,oblivioustothestinkingwealthhewasn’tapartof.
Janegreetedusatthedoor,flingingherselfintoHunter’sarms.Shereceivedapatontheback.MyparentsandSamwereevidentlysomewhereinthecastle,gettingtheirtourfromAisling,Cillian,andGerald.Everyonewasdressedformally,andeveryoneeyedmelikeIwasatickingbombabouttodetonatealloverthevintagefurniture.
Which,justliketheexteriorofAveburyCourtManor,wasnoteworthy.
Everythingherewasbigandextravagant.Thefirstfloorstretchedacrosswhatcouldeasilybethreefootballfields.Thelimestonebeneathmyfeetwasadramaticshadeofcrème,withaccentsofgold,copper,andbronze.Thecentralchandelierdrippingfromthehighceilingwasmadeofdozensofvintagechampagnebottleswithlittlelightsinsidethem,andthevasesacrossthehallwayswerethesizeofafully-grownperson,crammedwithfresh,oversizedflowers.
“Come,I’llgiveyouatour.There’sabowlingalley,gym,twoswimmingpools,andacandybar.”Janetuggedatmyhand,barelycontainingherjoyathavingusaround.
Acandybar?
Huntermust’veseenthelookonmyfaceashismotherdraggedmetowardtheothersideofthefloor,becausehispalmfoundmyfreehandandrubbedtheinsideofit.“Youheardright.”
“Ithoughtmyearswerefailingme.”
“Nope.Justyourpanties.Getridofthem.”
WeexchangedaprivategrinasJanebegantobabbleaboutthearchitectureofthecastle.
Thetourtookfortyminutes,andwestillcouldn’tcoveralltheroomsonthefirstfloor.Bythetimeweweredone,Iwasn’tsoheartbrokenthatHunterhadn’tgrownuphere.Thisplacewouldn’tfeellikeahomeinamillionyears.Fortheentiretour,Janetriedtostrikeupaconversationwithherson.Shewasmetwithpolite,dryresponses.Hunterregardedherwithdistantcivility.Itremindedmeofapotentialbuyerwhowaslisteningtoapitchfromarealtor,ratherthanaconversationbetweenamotherandherson.
Finally,wereturnedtothediningroom.MyparentsandSamwerethere,backfromtheirowntourfromhell.Ihuggedthem.
Samsaid,“Whoa,adress.”
Ipunchedhisarm.“Takeahike.”
“No,thanks.I’llgetlostinthisnightmareofahouse.”
Aisling,whostoodnexttoSam,letoutanervouslaugh,blushingasshelookedathim.Heignoredher.
“Again,I’mrightfuckinghere.”Hunternarrowedhiseyesatme.
Sam’sgazeflickedtomyroommate.“Ishetreatingyouwell,littlesis?”heasked,notbreakinghisholdonHunter’sgaze.
Irolledmyeyes.“That’sformetotakecareof.Welcometothetwenty-firstcentury,bigbro.”
“Thatwasn’tayes,”Sampointedout.
“Heistreatingmefine,”Isaid.
Whenwesatdown,Momsqueezedmyhandfromacrossthetableandwinked.
“Youlookgood,mylove.”
“Ifeelgood.”Ismiled,reassuringher.Ifeltlikecrap,actually,exceptformyshoulder,whichwasbetternow.IwashystericalabouttheLanabusiness,andtheproximitytoHunterdidn’thelpmatters,either.Ihadtheterriblesenseoflosingcontrol,ormayberealizingI’dneverhaditinthefirstplace.
“Nottoogood,Ihope.”DadflashedHunteralookfullofmenace,whichHuntermet,unblinking.
“Waytoogood,unfortunatelyforme,”Huntermuttered.
“Aaaandit’sshowtime.”Cillianpluckedaglassofwinefromasilvertrayofferedtohimbyaservant,sittingbackindulgently.
“Front-rowseat,”SamremarkednexttoCillian,andthetwoclinkedtheirglasseswithcondescendingsmirks.
“Ceannbeag,doyouthinkyoucanmanageonedinnerwithoutoffendingeveryoneatthetable,includingsomeofthedishesanddecorations?”Geraldinquiredcoldly,takingaseatattheheadofthetable.
Hehadn’tbotheredgreetingmewhenwewalkedin,andhe’dbarelyglancedatHunter.Infact,theonlytimehedidlookatuswaswhenHunterwasoblivioustohim.Thenhe’dsneakedapeek.Itwaslikehewashavingaone-sidedpowerstrugglewithhisownson.Itmademewanttohurlaforkinhisdirection.
Huntertookaglassofwinefromthetray,offeringittome,beforepluckingoneforhimself.Hewaswalkingonthinice—stompingonit,morelike—andIcouldn’tblamehim.Theairwasthickwithaggression,andheneededtosaveface.“DoIthinkIcan?Certainly.DoIwantto?No,thatwouldbeboring.CareifItreatmyselftoaglassofwine?”
“Ido,actually.Youarenineteen.”Geraldsniffedhiswine,swirlingitinitsglass.
“Yes,anagewhenitislegaltodrinkineverywesterncountrysavetheUnitedStates.”
“Whichis,unfortunately,whereyouarecurrentlysituated.”Cilliangrinnedathisyoungerbrother.
“Could’vefooledme.Thisplacefeelsalotlikehell,”Huntermumbled.
Ijumpedintotheconversationheadfirst,wantingtoaverttheloomingfamilycrisis.
“Mr.Fitzpatrick,IcanassureyouHunterhasn’thadalickofalcoholsincewemovedintogether.Heisthedesignateddriver.I’msureoneglassofwineisn’tgoingtohinderhisprogress.”
“Areyouthatlaxonhimwithotherrules,too?”Geraldfrownedatmefromacrossthetable.
Ismiled,battingmyeyelashes.Forgetthefork,I’mthrowingthesteakknifeathim,andI’maimingforhisheart.
“I’veneverbeenaccusedofbeinglaxbefore,sir.”
“I’msureyouwerenotaccusedofanything,sweetheart,”Dadsaidthroughclenchedteeth,staringGeralddown.
Geraldraisedhishandsintheair,backingoff.“Clearly.Iwasmerelyteasing.”
“Teasesomeoneyourage.”Samflashedasmilethatdidn’tmatchthedangerlyingbehindit.
Wehadsomekindofrawfishasastarter,followedbybread,cheese,andvarioustapasdishes.Thencamethemaincourse:steakandwhippedmashedpotatoeswithbutterandchives,withshavingsofatypeofmushroomthatcosthundredsbytheounce.MomseemedtohititoffwithJaneconversation-wise,ItalkedtoAisling,andDad,Gerald,andSamdiscussedbusiness,whichleftCillianandHuntertotrytoformsomekindofatête-à-tête.Ihalf-listenedtothemwhilediscussingcollegeswithAisling.
“HowisSyllie’swifedoing?”Hunterasked.
I’dnoticedthatwhenprovokedabouthisantics,Hunternevermissedanopportunitytofliphisfamilythefinger,butwhenhewasactuallytalkingtothem,hewalkedoneggshells.
Cillianshrugged,cradlinghiswineglassandstaringthroughhisbrotherlikehedidn’texist.“Unfortunately,Idon’tkeeptabsonwomen’shealthunlesstheyfrequentmybed.”
“Andyouspeakofmymanners,”Huntersaidtightly,throwingalargepieceofsteakintohismouthandchewing.
“Ihavetherefinerytocarefor.Syllieisaveryresourcefulperson.I’msurehecanhelphiswifewithwhatevershe’sdealingwith.”
“Resourcefulenoughtohurtus?”Hunterasked,archinganeyebrow.
Aislingwastellingmeaboutthemeritsofgoingtoanout-of-statecollege,butIwasdrawntotheconversationbetweenthebrothers.
“Probably.”Cillianyawned,pickingupablueberryandexaminingitcoldly.
Isawwhathesaw,whathelikedaboutthetinyfruit—thatlittlecrowneachperfectblueberryhadthatmadeitregal.
“Yetyouwouldn’tbackmeupinfrontofAthair.”
“Correct.”
“Why,praytell,isthat?”
Cillianconsideredhimthroughnarrowedeyes.They’dfitonasnakebetterthantheydidonahumanbeing.Cillianwasgorgeous,hiscolorswarmagainsttheicinessoftherestofhim.TheolderFitzpatrickbrotheralwayslookedastepawayfromgracefullydippingaswordintoyourchestandwatchingyoudrawyourlastbreathwithaprettysmile.
“Becauseyoudidn’thavesufficientevidenceandyoureekedofhysteria.Bothmadeyourcaseweak.”
Huntersaidnothing,watchinghissiblingunderadeep-setfrown.
“DidyouknowthatthewordhysteriaderivesfromtheLatinwordforuterus?”Cillianaskedconversationally,dissectinghissteakmeticulouslyintopiecestheexactsamesize,alaAmericanPsycho.“InancientGreece,itwasbelievedthatawanderinganddiscontenteduteruswastoblameforthatdreadedfemaleailmentofexcessiveemotion.”Heputhisforkdownandstaredatwhathe’dcarvedonhisplate.
Iwatchedhimbehindthediamond-studdedrimofmywineglass.
Cillian’shawk-likeeyesandpanthergesturesgavemeviolent,uncomfortableshivers.Hemademefeeluneasy,unequipped—likethedirtbeneathhisshinyloafers,andhehadn’teventriedallthathardtoprovoketheseemotionsinme.Ididn’tenvythepeopleheactivelyhated.
“DoyouspeakLatin,Cillian?”Iasked,takingabiteofmysteak.
Aislingstoppedtalking,shootingmeado-you-want-to-die?horrifiedexpression.Therestofthetablefellsilent,thetensionhoveringaboveourheadslikeathick,darkcloud.
“Afairamount.Anyparticularreasonyou’dcare?”Hepoppedapieceofsteakintohismouth.
He’drequestedhissteaksoraw,sobloody,thejuicymeatmadethecornersofhisperfectlipsglisten.
“IwaswonderingifthewordjerkderivesfromtheLatinwordjealousy.Thoughtyoucouldshedsomelightregardingthat.”Ismiledsweetly,cockingmyheadtolookathim.
Janesprayedherredwineacrossthetable,makingachokingsoundthatpromptedGeraldtopatherback.Dad,Sam,andHunterexchangedamusedlooks,chucklingundertheirbreaths.Mom’seyesglitteredwithpride.Stickingittothebigmanraninourfamily.
Cilliantuckedhischindown,regardingmeforthefirsttimewithfaintinterest,likemyexistencewasabrandnewthingheneededtoconsider.
“Doyouthinkyou’reclever,MissBrennan?”
“Notageniusbyanymeans,butIgetbywithmyperfectlyadequate,averageIQ.”Anothermockingsmiletouchedmylips.“I’daskyouthesamequestion,butIalreadyknowtheanswer.Youthinkyou’rethesmartestpersonintheroom.”
Cilliansatbackandwatchedme,enjoyingaprivatejokeatmyexpense.“Provemewrong.”
“Ithoughtyou’dneverask.”Imadeashowoftakingmyphoneoutofmypurse.Iknewitwastheequivalentoftakingadumponthetableasfarasetiquettewent,butIcouldn’thelpmyself.IbrowsedthroughmyimagesuntilIfoundtheoneIwaslookingforandpassedmyphonetoCillianacrossthetable.
“Hunter’sIQtestfromwhenhemovedtoTodosSantos,”Iexplained.“Ifounditinoneofthepackedboxesinourapartment.Actually,IcanseealltheFitzpatricksiblings’scores.Huntermust’vepackedthembyaccident.Yourbabybrothersitsat147points,whichmarkshimasaliteralgenius.Yoursismerely139.Stillaboveaverage,butno147.Nowtellme,Cillian,isyourmathasgoodasyourLatin?”Iblinkedinnocently.
“Moórga.”Geraldclearedhisthroatbehindhisnapkin,signalingCilliantokillthisconversation.
ButIcouldn’tstopmyself.Iwasonaroll.
Cilliansatback,refusingtoshowsignsofdiscomfort.
“Measuringone’scompetencebytheirIQlevelislikemeasuringahorsebyitscoat.”
“Orawomanbyherbrasize,toputitinaformceannbeagcouldrelateto,”Geraldjested,hispotbellywobblingwithlaughter.
Janewincedatherhusband,slappingthetipsofhisfingersacrossthetable.Shemutteredanapologytomyparents.DadandMomexchangedlooks,relieved.ComparedtotheFitzpatricks,wewereactuallyanormalfamily.
Sam,however,watchedtheentirething,hiseyesping-pongingbackandforth,withasmilebehindhispintofGuinness.Ihadnoideawherehe’dgottenit.NooneelsewashavingGuinness.Butthiswasmybrotherafterall,themostresourcefulmaninMassachusetts.
Huntersippedhiswater.Inoticedhehadn’ttouchedhiswine.Everybodyintheroomwasprobablyundertheassumptionhe’ddevourhislittletreat.Itwasalongmiddlefingertowhatwasexpectedofhim.Atingeofprideprickledmychest.
“ThankyouforexplainingittomeinsimpleEnglish,Athair.ForaminutethereIwas,hystericallyataloss,”Huntersaid.
“Donotspeakoutofturn,”Geraldwarned,stabbingintohissteaklikeitwashisenemy.
“Iwasn’tplanningonspeakingatall.MomwashellaadamantIbehere,though.”Hunterfingeredhischin,throwingtheballbacktohisfather’scourt.
“Shehashervices.Youareoneofthem.”Geraldturnedhisattentionbacktohissteak.
“Andyou’renot,whichiswhyI’mhere,tauntingthehelloutofyouwithmypresencealone,”Hunterdeadpanned.
Aislingsuckedinabreath,andJanepaledandcoughedoutherdrink—herMO,apparently.
Gerald’schairscrapedbackwithascreechingsound.Herosetohisfeet,slappingthetablewitharoar.“Enough!It’sbadenoughthatyouhavebroughtshameonthisfamily—”
“Don’ttalktohimlikethat.”ItwasJane’sturntodartuptoherfeet.Shelookedevenmorefrailandbonynexttoherhusband.
IglancedbetweenHunterandGerald,knowingIwasmissingaverybigpieceofthepuzzle.
Jawclenched,eyesdead,Hunterstood,turnedaround,andstalkedoutoftheroom.Icouldn’tblamehim.Thishouse—thisfamily—seemedtopurgehimwheneverhemadeanattempttofitin.Hisfatherdespisedhim,hisbrotherridiculedhim,andhismotherwastooweaktostopeitherofthem.
Irose,pressingmyfingertipstothetable.IcouldfeelalleyesbuttheFitzpatrickparents’onme.Dad,Mom,Sam,andAislingwatchedmyreactiontoHunter’smeltdown.EvenCillianeyedme,probablycuriouswhatotherill-manneredtricksIhadupmysleeve.
“Ijustwantyoutoknowonething.”IpointedatGerald,feelingmyeyesnarrowintoslits.“WhenIagreedtothisarrangement,IthoughtIwashelpingalovingdadguidehissonbacktotherightpath.Butyou’renotloving,andhonestly?You’rebarelyevenadad.You’reapatronizing,bigheadedschmuck.YouhavenorighttobemadatHunterforturningtoboozeandsexwithrandompeople.Heneverseemstogetanylovewhereheneedsitthemost—hisfamily.Whateverfailureyouseeinhim,besuretoknowabigsliceofitisyourown.”
Withoutwaitingforhisreaction,IturnedawayinthedirectionHunterhadgone,myveinssizzlingwithrage.Istompedmywayalongthewidecorridor.Itwaslongandvein-like,twistinghereandthere.EverytimeIthoughtI’dfoundthefarthestpartofthefloor,Iwasmetwithanothergoldencurvedecoratedbyastatuethatledtoyetanothercorner.Thishousewastoobigtomanage.IwonderedifAislingkneweverypartofit.
Atsomepoint,Inoticedthreegranitestepsleadingtoanuntouched,heavilydecoratedfamilyroom.AllthefurniturewasangledtowardtheglassdoorleadingtoabeautifulEnglishgarden.Thedoorwasslightlyajar—onpurposeorbydesign,I’dneverknow.Withoutthinking,Ipushedtheglassdooropenalltheway,steppingoutside.
IknewwanderingoffunannouncedafterHunter,whomI’ddefendedruthlesslytheentirenight,lookedsuspicious,thathisfatherwaslikelywonderingifI,too,haddrunktheHunterKool-Aidandsuccumbedtohischarm.ButIneededtocalmmyself,farawayfromtheFitzpatricks.Mymotherjoggedtogetridofthehummingenergybeneathherflesh.Me?Iusedmyarrowandbow.ButIdidn’thavethemnow.
Iwantedtoruinsomethingtomakemyselffeelbetter,evenifthatsomethingwasmyself.
Theweatherhadcooled.Thechillybreezecoatedmybarearmsasmyheelsdugintothedampearthunderthelushgrassofthebackyard.Althoughcallingitabackyardwastheunderstatementoftheuniverse.Itwasmorelikeanentiremeadow,stretchedintoabarbecueareawithanOlympic-sizedpoolcompletewithsunbeds,andonthefarright,therewassomesortofivy-covered,medieval-lookingglassstructure.Ieyedit,wonderingwhatitcouldbe.I’dalreadygatheredthatGeraldFitzpatricklikedflashinghiswealthlikeacreeperonasubway.
Whatcouldbemoreexcessivethanacandybar?MaybetheglasshousewaswhereGeraldkepthiscompassionandsympathy—sealed,locked,andshovedfarawayfromthemainproperty.
Itwasn’tinmynaturetobenosy,butIwantedtoknowifHunterwasthere.Theneedtoconsolehimclawedatmyskin.
Imarchedtotheivy-lacedroom,pattingitforthedoorhandle.Ihopeditwasn’tlocked.AsIdraggedmyfingernailsalongthedoor,Ifeltalong,musculararmstretchbehindme,brushingmyshoulder.Ijumpedback,gasping.Thehandreachedforasecretdoorhandlenestledbehindathickcoatofivy,openingiteffortlessly,creatingasliverofspacebetweenthedooranditsframe.Anunnaturalamountoflightpouredfromthecrack.Myheadtwistedback,mybloodroaringbetweenmyears,signalingmeitwasafight-or-flightkindofsituation.
Huntersmileddownatmecalmly.“Butterflygarden.”
“It’sexactlylikeyourdadtocagethesymboloffreedominasmall,confinedroomforentertainmentpurposes,”Imuttered.
Hiseyestwinkledinamusement.
“Andit’shellayoutomakethatkindofstatement.”
Ishrugged.“I’mnotverygoodatkeepingmymouthshut.”
“Asyoudemonstratedatthetable.”
“IhopeIdidn’tmakeitworseforyou.”
“Nothingcanmakeitworseforme,aingealdian.”Hissultryvoicewrappedaroundmybodylikeasnake.Hedidn’tsoundangryorupset.Justsad.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”Ipushedawayfromhim,strugglingtoswallowthelumpinmythroat.
“Waitingforyourasstofigureoutmywhereabouts.Here,Iwanttoshowyousomething.”
Hegavemeaslightshove,pushingmeintotheroom.Thedoorclosedbehinduswithasoftclick.Iblinked,gettingusedtotheartificiallightthatattackedmyretinas.
Itwasamoist,nearlyblisteringroom,witharoundedsee-throughceiling,lotsofoverheadlighting,andlavish,wildplantswindingbehindwoodenbannisters.Theylookedlikeacuriousaudiencebehindredvelvetropes.Therailingslinedawalkwayaroundtheroom.Thereweretworustic,arbor-coveredbenchesoneithersideofthegardenandanartificialpondcoveredwithmoss,surroundedbyheavygraystones.Butthethingthatmademykneesbucklewastheswarmofbutterfliesflutteringaroundus.Hundredsofthem.Blueandorange.White,green,dotted,andstriped,smallandlarge.Ifollowedthemwithmyeyes,momentarilyforgettingHunterwasintheroom.ItwirledinplaceasIsurveyedoneparticularorangeone,adornedwithsymmetricallyperfectblackdots.Itbeataroundmehappily,andIwentverystill,likeIwasgettingreadytodrawanarrow,mybodyhardeningintostone.Thebutterflyrestedonthetipofmynose,itslittlewingsclappingtogetherasitsettled.Icrossedmyeyescomicallytowatchit.
“Afewyearsago,Dawascaughthavingasordidaffairwithamarriedwoman.Notjustanymarriedwoman,actually,Mom’syoungersister,Virginia.Herhusbandfoundoutaboutitandtriedtoextortmoneyfromhim.Itworked—initially,anyway.ButwhenGin’shusbandaskedforsharesinRoyalPipelinesinexchangeforhissilence,IguessDafigureditwasnevergoingtogoawaycompletelyunlesshenippeditinthebud.Hemadeapressreleaseandconfessedtohavinganaffairwithhiswife’ssister,admittingthey’dslepttogethermanytimes,includinginhismaritalbed.Momwassopissedshekickedhimoutofthebedroom.Butsee,hislegacyandcompanymeantmoretohimthantheirmarriage.Ithardlyevensurprisedmymotherthathewentandconfessedtofuckinghersisterinfrontoftheentireworld.Inabidtowinherforgiveness,Damadethisbutterflygardenforher,becausebutterfliesareherfavoriteanimal.AndMom,whocouldn’tseetheironyinthat,acceptedhisapology.Needlesstosay,Gin,herhusband,andmythreecousinshaven’tbeeninvitedtoanyThanksgivingandChristmasdinnerssincethen.”
“Jesus,”Ibreathedout,lookingaroundtheroomandsuddenlyseeingitinacompletelydifferentlight—tainted,somehow.“That’sinsane.”
Huntercaughtabutterflyinhishand,broughtittohisface,andopenedhispalm,watchingitflutteringaway.
“Butterfliesleadshort,interesting,decadentlives.Theyliveforabouttwoweeksandneversleep.Theydorest,onoccasion.Otherwise,they’realwaysonthego.Theyprefernectartofood,andjustlikeme,theyhavethreelegs.ButcanItellyouthemoststrikingfactaboutbutterflies?”
Hunter’shotmouthfoundtheshellofmyearfrombehind,andmypulsestuttered,strugglingtostayconfinedtothelimitsofmybody.Whenhadhegottensoclosetome?WhendidheturnmybodysoIhadmybacktohim?
Iwantedtoburstoutofmyskinandrunawayfromhim.Fromthis.Iclosedmyeyes,feelingmythroatbob.
“Tellme,”Iwhispered,expectingthebutterflytoflyawayatthemovementofmymouth.Butno.Itstayedonmyface.Ifeltitflappingitswingslazily,slopingtowardHunter.Maybeitwaswaitingtohearhisanswer,too.
“Suspendeddevelopment.”Hunter’slipsclosedonthelobeofmyear,nibblingsoftly.
Ishiveredattheheatofhismouth,andhistongueswipedthevelvetypartofmyear.Iwantedhimtotearmydress,throwmeontheground,andtakemefrombehind,makingmethepreyhesooftentoldmeIwas.
“Whenthetemperaturedropstoacertaindegree,butterflieshibernate.Theyactuallyfreezeintime—inage—waitingforsummertocomeandunchainthemfromtheweather,tosetthemfree.Butterfliescan’tflywhenthey’recold.”
“LikeSleepingBeauty,”Ibreathed,thinkingaboutthehours,days,weeks,months,andyearsI’dbeenobsessedwithprovingIwasbetterthanLana.No,notevenbetter,justworthy.Itwaslikebeingstuckinaconstantwinter,frozen,waitingforsomethingIcouldn’tevenname.
Huntergrinnedagainstmyear,hislipsskimmingdownmythroat,leavingashudderintheirwake.Ourbodieswerehummingwithsomethingdangerousandcarnal,andIwonderedifpeoplewerelookingforus.Someonecouldopenthedoorandseeus,andeverythingwe’dworkedfor—everythingwehadontheline—wouldgoupinflames.
Butsomehow,atthisparticularmoment,Ididn’tcare.
“Theprinceisnotgoingtosaveyou,aingealdian.Heisstuckinhiscastle,fightinghisownbattle.Areyoureadytostepoutofyourcomfortzoneandlive?”heasked,almostbrokenly.I’dneverseenhimsobare,soraw.“Youhavetoletlifetouchyou.Drownalittlewithme,baby.”
Iopenedmymouth,notsurewhatwasgoingtocomeoutofit.TheminuteIdid,theorangebutterflyflutteredaway,swirlingincirclesupwards,spiralinglikesmoke.Itcametorestatopafluorescentlight.Ifeltthelossofit.IturnedtofaceHunterandplacedbothmypalmsonhischest,pretendingtokeephimaway,butreally,Iwaslookingforanexcusetotouchhimagain.
“Youknow,Ialwaysthoughtmydadwasgoingtohateyou,butIdon’tthinkhedoes.Ithinkheevenlikesyoualittle,inhisown,verydry,verycautiousway.”Iclearedmythroat,changingthesubjectlamely.
Hunterloweredhishead,hislipspuckering.“Hethinksyou’resofaroutofmyleague,Idon’tposeathreat.”Hefinishedonachuckle.“Andhe’snotwrong.Asformyda,hewantstostrangleyou.”
“Thefeelingismutual.Onlydifferenceis,ifhetriestostrangleme,myfatherwillstranglehim,andSamwillfinishthejob.”Iquirkedaneyebrow.
Hunterlaughed,shovinghishandsintohispockets.Butterfliesdancedaroundus,andIwonderedwhyhewasn’tkissingme.ThenIrememberedI’dbeggedhimnotto.
Theteenageidiotinmewasdisappointedthathe’drespectedmywishes.
“I’mgladyoudidn’tgrowuphere.Thisplaceissoul-crushing.I’msurprisedAislingturnedouttobesoawesome.”
“Aislingislikeacat.She’sgotagoodamountofsouls.”Hestillwasn’ttouchingme,takinganotherstepback.
Confused,Ikepttheconversationgoing.“Iwasgoingtoask,whatdidyoumeanbysayingyourdadisnotyourmother’svice?Thathedoesn’tinteresther?”
“ShelostinterestinhimwaybeforehetookGintohisbed.”Huntercockedhishead,smilinglazily.“ButIalsoreferredtothefactI’mnothis.Biologically,anyway.MomhadanaffairsometimebetweenCillianandAisling,aroundthetimeshefoundouthewasgettingBJsfromhissecretary.It’sthebest-keptsecretoftheFitzgeraldfamily.Ifoundoutatboardingschool,throughafriendofafriendwhosedadknewmine.ApparentlyIwasdubbedBeautifulBastardateverycountryclubontheEastCoastbecauseIwasacutekid,buthellaillegitimate.”
Mymouthnearlyfelltotheground.Suddenly,IhatedJaneasmuchasIdidherhusband.
“Thatis…”Istarted.
“Agoddamnrelief.”Hunterpretendedtowipehisbrow,chucklingtohimselfandtakinganotherstepback.Hewasalmostatthedoor.Icouldn’tfigureoutwhyhe’dputspacebetweenusallofasudden.
“Irarelythrowtheaffairinmyfather’sface,butwhenIdo,italwaysgivesmethedesiredeffect.”
“Whichis?”Iasked.
“CompletemeltdownoftheFitzpatrickpatriarch.”
“Andyourbiologicaldad?”IstaredatthegroundwhenIasked.Iwasafraidoftheanswer.
Hunterwavedthequestionoff.“Notapersonofinterest.WhenIaskedmymom,shepleadedinsanityandsaidhewasamalemodelwhofuckedoffbacktoEasternEuropeafterhewasdonewithher.WhichexplainswhyIlooknothinglikeDa,Cillian,andAisling.”
WhichexplainswhyyoulooklikeaGreekgod.
Ithelpedmeunderstandwhyhefeltsohatedhere,whyhewassentaway,whyheviewedhimselfasanairheadedplayboy—arolehisfatherhadburdenedhimwith,andhewentalongwith.Huntermayhavebeenoneofthemostsought-afterbachelorsinAmerica,butthepeoplehewantedattentionandwarmthfrom,hisfamily,weren’tthereforhim.
Hetookanotherstepback.
Suddenly,anoverwhelmingneedtohughimconsumedme,toapointwhereIwantedtosqueezethebreathoutofhimuntilheknewhematteredtome.
“Whyareyouwalkingawayfromme?”Ifinallysnapped,mybrowsfurrowed.Hunterpushedthedooropen,tookonestepoutthedoor.
“Iwouldliketotestatheory,”hesaid,movingoneofhishandsalonghissquare,perfectjaw.“IfIfreezeyouinfriend-zonewinter,willyourunformyheat,orstaycontentwithyouruselesslittlewings?”
“I’mnotabutterfly.”Iscowled,knowingheandmyfriendswereright.Iwascatchingfeelingsforhim.IhadtheHunterbug.Buteverytimewecameclosetobeingsomethingsemi-real,Ipulledaway.
Now,Ifelttheurgetodefyhisfatherandhisstupidagreement.
Tobreakapromise.
Todrown,losegravity,makeamistakeIcouldn’ttakeback.
Huntergavemehisback,walkingaway,makingthedecisionforus.
“Youaremybutterfly,Sailor.AndmaybeI’mnotGerald’sfleshandblood,butmakenomistakes—whenIfinallycatchyou,Iintendtocaptureyou,too.”Hunterleftshortlyafterthat,takingmycarandnotbotheringwithgoodbyes.Ididn’tblamehim.It’dlooksuspiciousifwelefttogetherafterI’ddefendedhimandwe’dbothdisappearedforalmostthirtyminutes.Besides,myparentswerehappytogivemearidehome.TheygrilledmeaboutlifewithHunterthroughoutthedrive,butitwasnicetocatchupwiththem.Inoticedtheyaskedaboutmyshoulderoutofconcern,andaboutAisling,Persy,andEmmabelle,buttheyrefrainedfromtalkingtomeaboutarchery.
“Aren’tyougoingtoaskhowpracticeisgoing?”Isniffedfromthebackseat,lookingforanon-Hunter-relatedsubject.Archerywassafe,agoodtopic.Dadmetmyeyesthroughtherearviewmirror,side-noddinghisheadtoMom.
“Red,yourstage.”
“Wethinkyoushouldenrollinasummersemesternextyear,”shesaidquickly,likerippingoffaBand-Aid.
“What?Why?”Iasked.Myparentshadalwayssupportedmycraft,evenwhentheywereworriedthatwasallIcaredabout.
“Somethingtofallbackon,”MomexplainedwhileDadmuttered,“Wedon’twantyoutowasteyourlifeawayononething.”
Iquieted.
TheythoughtIwaswastingmylifeaway?
ThatIwasn’tgoingtomakeittotheOlympics?
Istaredoutthewindow,fightingthestinginmyeyes.Itwasn’tjustthem,ortheinjury,orHunter’srevelationaboutnotbeinghisfather’schild,orthehorrificdinner,orevenLanachallengingmetocomecleanaboutwhathadhappenedbetweenusallthoseyearsago.Whatreallybuggedmewasthattherewasagrainoftruthtowhateveryonewassayingaboutme.
Iwasobsessedwitharcheryinanon-healthyway.
SailorBrennanhadmanagedtosailthroughlifewithoutgoingondates,fallinginlove,goingtoparties,applyingtocollege,orliving;becauseeverythingposedathreattoarchery.Love.Friendships.School.
ItriedtoconvincemyselfthesacrificeswerenecessarytogettowhereIwantedtobeinmycareer,butthetruthwas,theyweren’t.Lanagottoenjoybothworlds.Shehadthedatesandtheboyfriendsandtheclothinglinesandthemoviesandthearchery.
WhywasIpushingHunterawaytimeandtimeagain,whenitwasobviousthiswholeagreementwasjustanotherwayforhisdadtopunishhimfornotbeinghis?
Sowhatifweweregoingtosaygoodbyesoon?Hewasherenow.ThatwasmorethanIcouldhopefor.
WhenmyfatherpulledtheMaseratitoastopatmybuilding,thesilencestretchedinthecar.Iwantedtocutitwithaknife.
“Look,”DadsaidatthesametimeMomsighed.“Sailor,wedidn’tmean—”
“No,”Isaid,pushingmydooropen.“Saveit.You’reright.Ihaven’tbeenliving.I’vebeenhidingawayfromlifebehindabow,staringatitwithoneeyeshut.ButI’llgetbetter.AtleastI’lltryto—notonlyformysake,butforyours,too.”
Islammedthedoorandranintothelobby,lettingthedoorsswallowme.Ididn’tlookbacktoseeiftheywerewaitinguntilI’dgottenintotheelevatorsafely.
Iknewtheydid.
Theyalwayswaited,watched,caredforme.
MomandDadweremysummer.
Theapartmentwasdarkandcool.Therewassomethingclinicalandhotel-likeaboutit,duetotheairconditionerworkingovertimeandthesleek,sophisticatedfurnishingsthatofferednopersonality.Upuntilnow,Ihadn’tknownhowHuntercouldstandit.NowIknew—hehadnoideawhatarealhomelookedlike.
Ikickedmyshoesoff,myhearttap-tap-tappingimpatiently,likeanindexfingeroverasurface.
Itiptoedmywaytohisroom.Thedoorwasajar.Itwasalwaysajar,aconstantinvitation.Ipusheditopen,andmyheartsankwhenIrealizedhewasfastasleep,hislong,lithelimbsspreadlazilyonhisCaliforniakingbed.Hisskinwasbronze,histautmusclesextended.Evenasleep,hehadthefaceofasinisterdevil,framedbytheblondcurlsofanangel.
Inwardlycursingmyselfforbeinglateandhimforbeingtired,IwasabouttostumblebacktothelivingroomandputsomethingonNetflix,tooampeduptogotobed.JustasItookastepback,Hunter’svoice,smoothandrough,cametomethroughthedark.
“Letmewarmyouup,aingealdian.”
Iturnedback,walkingintohisroomlikeIwasfacingdeathrow.WitheverystepItook,IfeltlikeIwasshedding,leavingsomethingbehind.
Step.Fear.
Step.Anxiety.
Step.Obsession.
Step.Overthinking.
Ireachedthefootofhisbed.Heextendedhishandtome.Ididn’ttakeit.Notyet.Somethingstoppedme.Iknewbetterthantoaskforsomekindofassurance,soitwasn’taboutthat.Still,Iwasuneasy.Onedge.
Huntersatupright,tookmyhandinhis,andbroughtittohisheart.Hisbarechestwaswarmandhard.Hisskinsmoothbehindhischesthair.Therewasnohintofhumorinhisvoice.
“Crossmyheartandhopetodie,whenIfirstsawyouinthatparkinglot,Iknewyourbloodtypewasgold.Ithinkwe’llbeagoodlessonforeachother,Sailor.Youdon’tknowhowtolive,andIdon’tknowhowtodoanythingbutlivehedonistically.”
Ashesaidthat,IrealizedI’dneverfeltmoremortal.Butbeingmortalwasbeingalive.Ihadsomuchtolose.Somuchtogain.Somuchtofeel.
Hunterstood,usinghisthumbtobrushthestrapofmydressfrommyshoulder
“Ihatewinter,”Icroaked,lookingdown.“I’vealwayshatedwinter.”
“Metoo.”Hecapturedmylipsinhis,unzippingmydressfrombehinduntilIwasinfrontofhiminnothingbutmybraandpanties.Hekeptkissingme—justkissing—gently,artfully,makingmeforgetmyselfcompletely.
IforgotIwasinthearmsofthemostuntrustworthymaninAmerica.
Amanwhopromisedmenothingbutheartbreak.
Amanwhomademebreakmypromisetohisfather—apromiselacedwithmyfuture—simplybecauseheknewhowtocharmhiswayoutofeverysituation.
Thefirstrainoffallstartedbeatingonthewindowsoutside,andmyheartsqueezedinmychest.
Sendmeasignal,God,I’daskedthedayHunterthrusthimselfintomylife.Iwonderedwhatfatewastryingtotellmenow.
Hekissedmeuntilmylipsweresore,andwhenhetookastepbacktoscanmybodyheadtotoe,Inoticedhe’dgottenridofmybrasomehowwithoutmyevenrealizingit.Myunderwearwasshovedhalfwaydownmylegs,tomyknees.Iblinkedbackathim,awaitingverdict.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Lookingatyou.”Herearrangedthebulgeinthecenterofhissweatpants.
“You’vealreadyseenmenaked.”Iscowled,takingastepforwardandwrappingmyarmsaroundhisneck.Hedodgedmeagain,stillwatchingmybody.
“Notwillingly.”
“What’sthedifference?”
“Then,youwereabombwaitingtobediffused.Nowyou’reanoffering.”
Igrittedmyteeth,readytolashoutathim.Everytimewewereinthesameroom,theurgetofighthimandhavesexwithhimoverwhelmedme.
“Well?”Ipushedmypantiesallthewaydown,knottingmyarmsovermybreasts,archinganeyebrow.“AmIgoodenoughforyou?”
“No,”hesaidevenly.“You’rebetterthanme.”
Withthat,hepounced,throwingmetohisbed,kissingmylipsroughly,hismouthtravelingdownmyneck.Hestoppedatmychest,drawingoneofmynipplesintohismouthandsuckingitsohardIletoutawhimper.Ishovedhissweatpantsdownbythewaistband,bracketinghiswaistwithmylegsandtoeingthefabricawaylikeasavagewhilemyhandsroamedhisback.Aftersuckingmyentirebreastintohismouth,hemovedtothenextonewhilereachingbetweenusandplayingwithmyclit.Thistime,hebitmynipple,teasingitwithhisteethandtongue.Iwrithed,findinghisengorgederectionbetweenourbodies,squeezingithard.
“I’mgoingtofuckyourbrainsout,”hegroanedintomyskin,hisfaceslidingdownfrommytitstomynavel.Myentirebodyshook.Hisridgeslippedfrommyhandashemoved,leavingmewithnothing.Ifeltempty,buzzingwithanticipation.
“Doit,then.”Istompedonhismattress.
Helaughed,takinghissweettimeanddrawingcircleswithhistonguedowntomybellybutton,lazystrokesthatmademethrashbeneathhim,archingmyback,offeringmoreofmybodytohim.
IwantedtoregretthedayI’dsaidyestothisarrangement,butIcouldn’tbringmyselftodoit.Strangely,IfeltthiswasexactlywhereIwassupposedtobe,andwhoIwassupposedtobewith.
Hismouthclampedonmyclit,andhesuckeditintohismouth.Imoaned,runningmyfingersthroughhisglorioushair,watchinghimeatmeoutwithhungryeyes.Helookedmeintheeyetheentiretime,andIwantedtocry,becauseIknewnoothermancouldmakemefeelthewayhedid.Ifeltlikeapeach,drippingnectardirectlyintohismouth.
Theorgasmcreptuponme.OnemomentIwasenjoyinghisstrokes,mybodyshiveringonhisbed,andthenexteachandeveryoneofmymusclesclenched,tightened,andtensed,myeyesfallingshutasIcriedouthisname.
Ittookmealmostafullminutetocomedownfromthepost-orgasmicfog,andbythetimeIsoberedup,hewasalreadysheathedwithacondom,nudgingmylegsapart,andanglinghiscockintome,watchingashistipslidin.
Ilookedupathim.Hiseyessearedthroughmine.
“Permissiontowreckyouruterus?”
Inodded.
“Iwon’tbegentle.”Heflashedoneofhisinfamoushalf-smirks—theonehe’dprobablyusedthousandsoftimesandresultedinthousandsoforgasms.Itfeltdirtytothebone,beingwithhiminawaysomanyothershad.Problemwas,noonetoldmehowenjoyablehisfilthyhalowouldfeelrubbingonme.
“Idon’tneedgentle.I’mawarrior,remember?”Igrabbedhisface,bringinghimdownforascorching-hotkiss.
Heslidallthewayinwithonethrust,bitingthesideofmynecklikeatigerdraininghisvictimofblood.“That’swhatmakesyousounfortunatelyirresistible.”
Hethrustinsidemeinlong,deepstrokes.Witheachshove,Ifeltthebedmovinganinch.Theheadboardslammedagainstthewall,themattresssqueakingitsprotestbeneathus.Hunterhoistedoneofmylegsoverhisshoulder,wrappingtheotheragainsthiswaistwhilehiseyesboreintomine.ThebedandIwhinedinunison.
“Slowdown,”Ihalf-protestedwhenIcouldn’tunderstandwhetheritwasmeshakingthebedwithmytremors,orthebedquakingbeneathme.
Hunterwasrelentless.Hewassohardandthick,Iwonderedifmyinsideswouldforeverbemoldedtotheshapeofhiserection.Screwingwithhimwouldmakeforaneasierbirthexperience,Iswore.Hewidenedandstretchedme,andI’dneverfeltsodeliciouslyfullinmylife.
Hunterstopped,grabbedthebackofmythighfromhisshoulder,andflippedmeoveronmystomach.Reachingdownbetweenmylegs,hehoistedmyassupintheairandspreadmybuttcheekswithhisthumbs.
“Indulgeme,baby,”hehissed,coatinghisfingerwithmyjuicesandslidingitintomytighthole.Itsqueezedaroundhimnervously,andhewiggledhisfingeralittleinside,strokinggently.
“Why?”
Hekissedthesideofmyface,thesilhouetteofhisfeaturesinmyperipheral.Hewassobeautifulitsqueezedmyheart,makingmewanttocry.
“BecauseI’myourfavoritevillain,”hewhispered.
Withthat,hewithdrewhisfingerandthensliditbackintome,aninchatatime.Icriedout,clenchingthesheetsbetweenmyfingersandsqueezingmyeyesshut.Hepushedhisfingersintomeatthesametime.Ilovedit.Allofit.Havinghiminbothmyholes.Sofullofhim.
Ilovedthatitfeltadashdegrading.
Mostofall,IlovedthatHunterFitzpatrickwascrazyenoughtoscrewsomeonebehindhisfather’sbackandrisklosinghisinheritance.Braveenoughtofuckthedaughterofamobbosslikeananimal,knowingthepotentialconsequences.
Hewasfearless,andarebel,andasinner,andasaint.
Aprincewho’dneverwantedhistitle.
Apure-heartedrake.
Hewaseverythingawomanshouldrunawayfrom,personified.AndyethereIwas,fallingdeeper.
Overwhelmingpleasurecoursedbetweenus,andIfelthimswellingandjerkinginsidemeasIfoughtmynextclimax,desperatewedothistogether.
“Areyoucoming?”Ipanted.
“Baby,I’mabouttoneedanIVafterthisshit.Permissiontobefilthy?”
“Granted.”Amoantorefrommymouthatthesametimehepulledoutofme.Mykneesknockedtogether.Ishook,feelingthelossofhim.Herippedthecondomoff,cuppedmypussywithhishand,shovingthreefingersintome,andpressedhiscockintomysore,tighthole.Withmybuttupintheairandwideopen,Ifeltthethickliquidofhiscumshootingarounditinhotribbons.Hepushedhisfingersdeeperbetweenmylips,coveringmyentrancecompletelysohiscumcouldn’tdripintoit.Icame,too.
Huntercollapsedontopofme,hischestpressingagainstmysweatyback,andbeforeweknewwhatwashappening,thebedtippedovertooneside,oneofitslegsbreaking.Theshatteringnoiseofsplitwoodfilledtheotherwisesilentroom.
Irolleddownfromthetippedmattress,andtheonlythoughtthatcrossedmymindwasthatmyshoulderdidn’tneedanotherhit,especiallyafterIwasmakingsomeprogress.Butbeforemybodyreachedtheground,IfeltHunter’sarmwraparoundmywaist,pullingmebackupthebedgently.Iclungtohimlikewewerestrandedinthemiddleoftheoceanonapieceofwood.
“Jesus,”Igroaned.“How’dthathappen?”
“Isthatahypotheticalquestion,orcanIgiveyouthelong,dirtyanswer?”Huntermurmuredintomyear,nibblingonmylobe,makingmegiggle.
Iscrambledtogetuponmyfeet,buthepinnedmedown,grabbingmybutt.Hekissedthesideofmyface.
“Waithere.I’llcleanyouup.”
“Thebedisbroken,”Iremindedhim.“Thisisnotamovie.I’mnotgoingtoluxuriouslyrestonabedthat’stilteddown.”
Herolledhiseyesatmetheatrically.“Crampingmystyle.”
Heliftedme,honeymoon-style,andcarriedmetohisen-suitebathroom.Inthere,hehoistedmeonthecounter,tookatowel,rinseditinhotwater,andcleanedbetweenmylegs.Iwatchedhimtheentiretime.Therewasnowayhedidthatwithallofhishookups.
Stopthinkingaboutthem.Stopobsessingoverthemanygirlshe’sbeenwith.Therearemoretocome,andanyway,it’snoneofyourbusiness.
“Youhandledthingsinareallybadasswaytoday,”Isaidafterawhile.
Thesilencewascomfortable,butwatchinghisfaceashiseyesfocusedoncleaningmymostintimateplacesunraveledme.Istillcouldn’tbelieveI’dsleptwithsomeonewhowasn’tasteadyboyfriendofsorts.
Huntershookhishead.“Ilearnedfromayoungagethatwomenarenotheretostay.MyparentssentmetoboardingschoolwhenIwassix.IhadnanniescomingoutofmyasswheneverIwashome.Idon’tthinkmymomconsciouslyknewshewasn’tthereforme,butthatdoesn’tchangethefactthatshewasn’t.Thenannieswereinterchangeableandfrequentlyreplaced.DamadeitapointtochangethemeveryseasonsoIwouldn’tlearntorelyonawoman.Ithinkitscaredhimtothinkoneofhisboyswouldn’tbefullyindependent.HediditwithCillian,too.Onlydifferencewas,Killwasbornwithasoultenshadesdarkerthananormalhuman—hisfather’ssonthroughandthrough.Webothgrewuplearningthatwomenweredisposable,borntoserveus,andsireheirs.DacheatedonMom.MomcheatedonDa.Kill…fuckknowswhatgoesthroughhisheadwhilehesampleshisendlessstringofmeaninglessflings,butheknowshowtodoitquietly.”
Itouchedhisface,urginghimtosaymore.Icouldpracticallyhearthewheelsinhisbrainturnashethoughtaboutit.
“WhatDadidn’ttakeintoconsiderationwasthatIwasn’tCillian.Iwasn’tbornacold-blooded,self-servingdegeneratewithatasteforpain.SoIwentfortheclosestthing—apoorimitation.ButitalwayscameoffwithoutthatCillianFitzpatrickshine.Myflingsaremessyandpublicand,asitturnsout,reallyfuckingexpensive.”
Ilaughedatthatlastpart,cuppingmymouth.Hunterletlooseatiredgrin,throwingtheusedtowelontothefloor.Thehousekeeperwouldwashitwhenshecametomorrowmorning,justlikethiswasahotel.
Maybethat’showHunterhadalwaysfelt—likeaguest,eveninhisownapartment.
Ihoppeddown,pressingmyhandstohischest.Mywholebodywassore.Fromthewaistdown,IfeltlikeI’dbeenwrecked.Fromthewaistup,everyinchofmyskinwascoveredwitharedrashfromhisunforgivingstubble.
“Thanks.”Ikissedthecornerofhismouth.
“Forwhat?”
“Forbeingreal.Iknowit’shard.”
Istartedtomyroom,resistingtheurgetoinvitehimtomybed,seeingashiswasbroken.Nevermindthatwebrokeittogether.IdecidedtobeverycarefulwithHunterwhenitcametothingsthatcouldbeviewedasclingyortoorelationship-y.Notjustforhissake,butformine,too.
TheminuteIsteppedoverhisbathroom’sthreshold,though,hishandsnakedandcaughtmebythewaist.
“Wheredoyouthinkyou’regoing,aingealdian?Ifyoucanstillwalk,thatmeanswe’renotfinishedyet.”
Hecarriedmetomyownbedanddidunspeakablethingstomybodythreemoretimesthatnight.
Thenfellasleepontopofme,ourlimbstangledtogether.
Andwhenwewokeupthenextmorning,truetohispromise,itwasalmostimpossibletowalkwiththesorenessbetweenmylegs.ItfeltlikeIwaspeeingfire,andIactuallyfearedtodoanumbertwo.
ButwhatIworriedaboutmostwasmyheart,whichfelttenpoundsheavier,andsoswollenIalmosttrippedovermyownfeet.Thenextsixweekspassedquickly.
Iwasdrowninginworkandessays,butnevermissedachancetofuckmyroommate,who—itwassafetoadmitnow—hadturnedouttobethebestroommateinthehistoryofroommates.
Justtobeonthesafeside,Ididn’tgetmybedreplaced.Itmadeslippingintoherbedeverynightseemmorepracticalandless…whatever.EvenafterSailorgotbacktotrainingfull-timeandstartedwakingupearlyagain,Istillfoundtimetofitinamorningquickie,evenifitmeantwakingupwithher.
Itreallytooktheedgeofftherestoftheday.
Bonuspoints:Dadidn’tseemtobepissedatSailorafterthatbullshitdinner,sotherewasnoimmediatethreattomyinheritance.Whilehewascarefulnottotalktome,andlimitedouralready-restrictedcommunication,Sailortoldmehe’dbeenemailinghermorefrequentlyandhadevenusedthetermofendearment“sweetheart”(insertthrowingupemojihere).
“HesaidherespectedthewayIstoodupforyouandgavehimapieceofmymind,butatthesametime,heknewIwassmartenoughnottogetinvolvedwithyou,”shetoldmethedayafterthatdinner,ironicallyminutesafterI’dusedherthighsasear-warmersandeatenheroutfortwentyminutes.
MylipswerestillglisteningwithherjuiceswhenIlaughed,throwingonearmbehindmyhead.
“MaybeI’mnotthatsmart.”Shenuzzledherheadinthecrookofmyarmasherfingersplayedwithmychesthair.Ifuckinglovedwhenshedidthat.Ididn’tevenknowwhy.Sometimesshetuggedatthemrealhard,butitwasanintimategesturenoflinghadeverdone.
“Maybehe’snotthatsharp,”Ireplied.
“Theanswerprobablyliessomewhereinthemiddle,”shemused.
Itookherfaceinbothmyhandsandkissedherhard.“There’snowayyouarelessthanagenius.Takesonetoknowone.”
ThoughIdidn’tfeellikeagenius,nomatterwhatmyIQtestindicated.
Afterthatstupid-assdinner,wewenttovisitmyfamilyorhersalmosteveryweekend.DinnerwiththeBrennanswasthetits.
SparrowBrennanwasaworld-classcook(literally),anditwasfunwatchingtheinfamousTroyBrennangettingthethirddegreefromhisspitfirewifeandhell-raisingdaughter.IevenlearnedhowtogetalongwithSam.Sortof,anyway.Hewasascarymotherfucker.
Wetalkedabouteverysubjectunderthesun—politicsandTVshowsandnewthingstodointhecityandthefuture,butneveraboutmoney,whichfeltfresh.DaandCillianonlytalkedaboutmoney.SometimesAislingtaggedalong,whichIliked,too,becauseshewasprettymuchtheonlyfamilymemberIhadthatIwassuredidn’twanttomaimmetodeathwithadildo.Butalsodidn’tlikeit,becauseshelookedatSamlikehehadtheworldclenchedinhisdirty-ass,violentpalm.AislingandSamwereabadidea.
Shewastheprincessintheivorytower,andhewasthepunkwhowasgoingtostealandcorruptheronhislunchbreakfromsettingtheworldonfire.
Hewastooeverything—old,experienced,anddangerous—formybabysister.
SometimesthePenrosesisterswerethere,too.Ididn’tmindthemallthatmuch.ItoldmyselftheyprobablyhadnoideaSailorandIwerefucking.TheynodoubtthoughtIdidn’tdeserveher,orworse—thatIhadnochancewithherinthefirstplace.Bothweretrue,bytheway.
Thingsdidn’tgoasfineanddandywhenwehadtovisitmyfamily,butaslongasIkeptmyinteractionswithDatoaminimum,Isurvived.IevensharedafewlukewarmwordswithCillianthatentailedzeroprofanity—mainlyPatriotscraporhowthenewrefineryinMainewasgoingdowntheshitters(mywords,nothis,Godforbid).Still,itcountedforsomething.Onedayatwork,KillevenbroughtacheesesteaksandwichandalargeCoketomydeskwhenIwasstudyingforanexamanddidn’thavetimetotakemylunchbreak.
“Here,LegallyBlonde.”Hetossedthefoodontomydeskwithoutsparingmealook.
“Fuck.Thanks,oldsport.”Ilookedatthefoodindisbelief.“Jugglingcollegeandworkisabitch.”
Killslidapieceofpaperwithanemailonitacrossmydeskafterthefood.“Havesomeoneelsewriteyouressaysforyou.Havethemmakeyousummariesforthetests.Life’stooshorttopretendyougiveadamnaboutbusinesslaw.”
“Doyougiveadamnaboutanything?”Ijested.Myparentshadfuckedbothofusupthoroughly,butindifferentways.Icaredtoomuchandactedup.Hedidn’tcareaboutanythingatall.
“I’msureIdo,butI’veyettofindit,”hesaid.
“Liar.”
“Thetruthisoverrated—anuncreative,uninspiredwayofseeingthings.”
Igotusedtothehardworkandthelate-nightstudying.Ievengotusedtofuckingjustonegirl.TheonlythingthatmademefrustratedashellwasSylvester.Ilistenedtohisrecordingsthoroughly,almosteverynight,andstillcouldn’tfindanythingconcretetonailhimwith.
Oneday,Dacalledmeintohisoffice.Icouldcountthetimeshe’ddonethatsinceTheDinnerononehand,soIapproachedinasourmood.Pushingthedooropen,InoticedKillandSylliealreadyseatedinfrontofhim.
“Sit,”Daspat,barelyglancingatanemptychairnexttoSyllie.
“I’dratherstand.What’sup?”Iasked.
Alleyesdartedtome.IthinktheywereassurprisedasIwastohearmyvoice,lowandsoberandlackingthatplayful,wannabe-rappertwangmyfamilyloathedsomuch.Iwasgrowingaspine.Thegrowingpainswereabitch,butIwasstartingtorecognizethatIdidn’thavemuchchoice.
“Hunter,”myfatherwarned.
“Leavehimbe,Athair.Therearemuchmorepressingissuesrightnow,”Cilliangrowledimpatiently.
I’dhavekissedhimonthemouthifhewasn’tmybrotherandmylipsweren’tpartialtoalittleredheadedbanshee.
“Well?”Ijuttedmychinout.
Myfathersatback.Helookedwornout,tiredasfuck.
“Thethreeofus—you,me,andCillian—aregoingonatriptomonitortheprogressontherefinery.We’regivingthemtheopportunitytosortthemachinerymess,butitisclearsomethingneedstobedone.Therehavebeentoomanyhiccupswiththeproject,andIthinkitcouldraiseoverallmoraleifweshowaunitedfrontandgotheretogether,”Dasaid.
Iwassurprisedtobeincluded.Atthispoint,Iwasthankfultheydidn’tputapairofgoddamnorangeshortsandawhitebraonmeandcallmetheirofficeHooterswaitress,butsomethingelseirkedme.
“Whataboutyou,Syllie?Areyoucoming?”Iflashedhimmygood-naturedsmile.
Themanturnedtome,shakinghishead.
“Someoneneedstomakesureeverythingrunssmoothlyhere.Also,mywifehasthatthing,”headdedasanafterthought.
“Whatthing?”Ipressed.Someonegoddamnhadto.
“She’sabitundertheweather.Sheunderwentsurgeryalittlelessthantwomonthsago.”
“Whatsurgery?”Ididn’trelent.IcouldseeKillinmyperiphery,smilinginamusement.
“Oh,I’mnotsurethisisaconversationshe’dappreciatemehaving.Obviously,IregretIcannotjoinyou.”
“Obviously,”Irepeated,cockingmyhead,examininghisface.Hemetmyeyeswithdefiance.
“Weren’tyoutheonewhobroughtittoAthair’sattentionthatwewerefallingbehindscheduleontherefineryanditwouldneverpasshealthandsafetyinspectionsatthisrate?”
Syllie’ssmilebegantofade.IknewIwaspissingoffmorethanjusthim.Dahatedbeingcriticized.Especiallybyme.
“That’shisjob,”myfatherboomedbehindhisdesk.“What’syourpoint,ceannbeag?”
Ishrugged.“Nopoint.Justputtingthingstogether.”
“Yourjobisfilingthings,notgluingthemintoanarrative,”Daremindedme.“It’ssettledthen.You’recomingwithus.You’reexcusednow.”
Isalutedhim,marchingout.Insteadofsittingbackatmydesk,IsaunteredallthewaytoSyllie’soffice,checkingonalltheBSI’dusedtorecordhim,seeingthatnothinghadbeenmoved.SincethatfirsttimeI’dmetKnox,I’dpaidhimtwomorevisitsandmanagedtoputatrackeronSyllie’sphone(heusedburnerphones,buteventheslyestmotherfuckersslippedsometimes).I’dgottentwonumbersforreliableprivateinvestigators,butIknewsomethinglikethatcouldblowupinmyfaceifIdidn’thandleitcarefully.
Mynightswerespentasfollows:
Comebackhome.
FuckSailor.
Talkaboutourdaysovertakeoutfood—shewasmyWesternWall,theretolistenwithoutjudgment,tohearwithoutshovingheropiniondownmythroat—thenlistentoSyllie’srecordingsafterIwasdonewithmycollegeshit.SometimesSailorhelpedme.Wewouldsittogetheronthecouch,I’dmassageherlegs,andwe’dbothhaveourAirPodstuckedin,listeningtodifferentpartsofSyllie’srecordings.Whenoneofusfeltwewereontosomething,we’dplayitfortheother.Sofar,though,Sylliewastoocarefulforhisowngood.
Finally,whenweretiredtobed,I’dfuckheragain.Sometimesshefuckedme.Sailorwasafeistyone.
Wedidn’ttalkaboutwhatwewere.
Whatweweren’t.
Wejustexisted:abutterflyandamanwhoappreciatedbeautifulthings.
Co-existingintheeyeofastormwe’dbeenthrowninto.
Knight:Yo,asswipe.Whatareyoudoingnextweekend?
Hunter:Scratchingmyballs.Makingvoodoodollsofmydad.Thatkindofthing.Whatkindofquestionisthat?
Knight:OneI’dlikeaseriousanswerto,youlittleassfucker.
Hunter:Notass-fucking,unfortunately.Study,probs.Gotdinneratmyfolks.You?
Knight:InBostonwithbaeforherbookdeal.We’recomingtoseeyou.
Hunter:You’refuckinganauthornow?That’stheheightofintellectualityyou’regoingtoreach.Ihopeyourealizethat.
Knight:DidIsayseeyou?Imeantstaywithyou.Also:Ha.Ha.
Hunter:Cheapbastard.
Knight:Isthatayes?
Hunter:It’snotano.
Knight:Wouldyournerdyroommatemind?
Ihadn’ttoldKnightorVaughnaboutbumpinguglieswithSailor—notthatIwasembarrassedoranything.ButIknewshewasprivate.Shehadn’tconfidedinherfriendsaboutus,anditfeltlikebetrayingherconfidence.Especiallyifatsomepointmyfatherfoundoutaboutusandshithitthefan.Themorewekeptitonthedownlow,thebetter.Iwasn’tgoingtothrowawaymyinheritanceoverapussy—nomatterhowsweetandtight—andshewasgettingsweet-assmediacoverageandhittingallherPRmarks.
Sailorwasrecentlyinterviewedonalocalmorningshow,hadbeenfeaturedintwoteenmagazines,andCrystal,heragent,hadsaidhernamehadbeenGoogledmorelastmonththanacertainKardashiansister,eventhoughthelatterallegedlyremodeledherentirefaceandsomeotherbodyparts.KeepingSailorasecretwasmakingsurewhatwehadwasjustthat—anongoingflingwithanexpirationdate.Shewasn’tmygirlfriend.Butwelivedunderthesameroofandenjoyedsuckingeachother’sprivates.
Really,therewasnoreasontotellKnightaboutSailor,justliketherewasnoreasontotellhimaboutanyoftheotherflingsI’dhadovertheyears.
Hunter:Ihardlycarewhatshethinks.
Knight:Brutalasalways.
Hunter:Catchyanextweek.
Knight:Beseein’ya.
Thefollowingmorning,mynewking-sizedbedarrived.IgotitforKnightandhisfiancée,Luna.Ipaidarushfeetomakesurethelittlefuckershadsomewheretosleep.Ihadn’tgottenthechancetobringSailoruptospeedaboutit,becausethepreviousnight,assoonasshe’dwalkedinthedoor,I’dbeentoobusyravishinghertosqueezeasentencein.
ItcaughtheroffguardaswedrankourmorningcoffeeonSaturdaymorningliketwogrown-upsorsomeshit.Theelevatordingedandthemoverscameout,holdingtheboxedpieceswiththegiant-assprintofthebed.
Sailorarchedaneyebrowovertherimofhercup,feigningcalmcuriosity,butIknewshewaspissed.Hergreeneyesalwaysturnedashadedarkerwhenshewasannoyed.
“Idon’trememberexilingyoufrommybed.Wehaveabitmoretimetoourarrangement.”
Igrinned,droppingakissatthecrownofherhead.
“Notgonnasleepinthenewbedforasecond.MyfriendKnightandhisgirlfriend-slash-fiancée-slash-ballbusterLunawanttocrashwithusnextweekend.She’smeetingwithherliteraryagenthereorsomeshit.Thatcool?”
“Sure.”Sheshruggedandmeantit.
Thetensionhadevaporatedfromhershoulders.IknewitwasgoingtobehardonherwhenIgavehertheboot.Honestly,I’dmissherass,too(andherpussy,andmouth).
“Butyouwon’tbesleepinginmybedwhenthey’rehere.Noonecanknowaboutus,”shewarned.
Inodded,happyshestillhadherheadscrewedonright.Somechickslostitwhereawell-endowedbillionairewasconcerned.NotSailorBrennan,though.
“I’llcrashonthecouchwhenthey’rehere.”
Sheturnedaround,rinsedhercoffeecup,andputitaway.Icamebehindher,trappinghertothecounter,massaginghershoulders.Therightonewasstillalittlesore,butshetoldmeshe’dbeenkillingitattherange.IthoughtherchancesofgettingthatOlympicspotwerereallygood.Itwasgoingtosoftentheblowandgivehershittofocusonwhenwewereover.Icouldn’twaittodrowninunlimitedpussyandcheeronSailorasshekickedassandtooknamesintheOlympics.Iwouldeventoastwithadrinkorsixwhenshegotthatmedal.
“Whatarewedoingtoday?”Iasked,kissingthebackofherneck.“Imean,otherthanporkingeachother.”
“Notmuch.”Sheturnedaround,hervoiceflat.“I’mgoingshoppingwithEmma,Persy,andAisling.”
She’dbeendoingalotofshoppinglatelyandlookingfuck-hotinhernewclothes.Herhairwasbangin’,too,andIoverheardoneofthePenrosesisters,themouthyone,Emmabelle,tellinghersheshouldgetaTinderaccount.Shewascomingoutofhershell,andintrueSailorfashion,she’dbrokenthatbitchintwoandstruttedoutonten-inchheels.Icouldn’thelpbutfeelstupidlyluckytobetheguynexttoher.Shewasgoingtobeaman-eatersoon,butIhadbeenthefirsttofuckheroutofherweirdlimbo,tointroducehertosociety.
“I’lltagalong.”Ipinchedherass.
Despitethetimethathadpassed,Istillhadn’tacquiredanyfriendsinBoston.Itwasgoddamnnearimpossible.Iworkedwithmiddle-agedpeopleallday,thentookeveningclassesincollege,mainlywithsinglemomsandolderpeoplewhoworkedfull-timejobslikeme.
Sailorputherhandonmychest.Itwashergo-to.That,andlickingherfingerandcleaningshitoffofmyfacewhenwewereeating.Justlikethechest-hairpulling,Ididn’thateit.
“Um,no,youaren’t.”
“Whynot?”Ifrowned,surprised.
“Becausewe’regoingtotalkaboutgirlstuff.”
“Likepenisesanddildos?”Iwassupremelyhopefulthatwaswhatwomentalkedabout.Naked.Otherthanmysister.I’dratherdiethanpicturemybabysisternaked.SweetJesus,whydidIletmymindwanderthatfar?NowIcouldn’tnotpictureAislinghavingaslumberpartyinherlingerie,andIwantedtothrowupalloverthekitchenislandlikeinthatSouthParkepisode.
Fuckmylifeintheass.
Sailorcockedherhead,frowning.“Tryclothesandboysandpetty,albeitharmless,gossip.”
“Ilikeclothesandpetty,albeitharmless,gossip.”
“DidImentionwedoallthistothesoundtrackofAWalktoRemember?No?Becausenogatheringwouldbecompletewithoutafewchickflicks,”shedrewout.
“Pass,”Igrunted,notwantingtobegforhercompany.
Shethrewherheadbackandlaughed,rubbingmyarm.Sailor(Sai-lor.Prettyname,Irealized,albeitfashionably-fucking-late)wasnotcoldordistantlikeI’dimagined.Shetouchedmeallthetimeinanon-I-wanna-get-dicked-by-youway.
“Ifiguredyou’dbelookingforentertainment,soItookituponmyselftocallyourbrotherandmakeplansforyou.”ShesneakedawayfrommytouchwhenIbegantodrawhercloseforaquickie.
“Mybrother?”Iechoed,spinningonmyheel.DidIhaveanotherbastardbrotherIwasn’tawareof?BecausetherewasnowayshewastalkingaboutKill.“YoumeantheassholewholooksatmelikeI’mcowshitclingingtohistwelve-hundreddollarMagnannis?”
“Oneandthesame.”ShezippedherNorthFacerucksack,throwingmybomberjacketintomyhandsfromthebackofthekitchenislandstool.“You’regoinghorsebackriding.”
“You’reshittingme.”Istaredather,jacketstillinhand.“WhywouldIdothat?”
Whywouldn’tIdothat?
Iwasn’tsureifIwasangryorinaweofherpersuasionskills.I’dbeensuccessfullyavoidinganytypeofconversationwithmymomanddabecausetheysuckedalltheballs,butwithCillian,Iwasoutwardly,full-blownbeefing.Myfeelingsforhimweren’tcomplicatedorconvoluted.Isimplywishedhimaslow,painfuldeath.Myheartcouldn’tbeboughtwithacheesesteakandtheemailofsomeTAatHarvardwhooverchargedforessaysIcoulddownloadonline.
“Youcan’thateyourentirefamily,”Sailorpointedout,shoulderingintoherjacket.IthadbeenpissingsincethatfirstnightofrainwhenIwreckedheruterus.“YouhavetomakesomealliesifyouwanttosurvivebeingaFitzpatrick.He’sgoingtobeyourfirst.”
“Soundsambitious.Also,unlikely.”
“Also,happening,”shecounteredcalmly,shovingmetowardthedoorwithsurprisingstrength.
“Whatthefuckareyoudoing?”Ibaredmyteeth,draggingmyheelsalongthefloorlikeatoddler.
“Lookatitasmypartinggifttoyou.Idon’twanttosaygoodbyewithoutknowingyouhaveafewpeopletorelyon.FiguredyourmomandCillianareyourbestbet.”
“WhynotAisling?”ItriedtododgehertouchatthesametimeItriedtopinchherass.Wetango-edlikeapairofaggressivepeacocksforafewseconds.
“Oh,youhaveAisling’svote,forsure.Butyouneedtheswingstates’support.ThinkofCillianasVirginia.”
Toputhisnamewithanythingvirginalwouldbeacrime,butIsavedhermysmart-asscomment.
Iwantedtobemadather,butforthelifeofme,couldn’t.Leaveittothiscrazybitch—andIusedthetermendearingly—tocalltheothercraziestmotherfuckerI’deverknownandnegotiatethetermsofmyrelationshipwithhim.
“Idon’thaveanyridingshit,”Igritted,stalling.
“Figuredasmuch.Cilliansaidhe’llletyouborrowsome,”Sailorsing-songed.
Iturnedaroundtofaceherassheswungthedooropen.Themoversweremarchingbackfrommyroom,dustingofftheirhands.
“Ihateyou.”Idouble-tippedthem,wavingthemgoodbye.BecauseIcouldbebothacuntandagreatpersonatthesametime.
“I’llfindawaytocarryon.”SheflashedmeasmileIwantedtowipeoffwithakiss.
“Don’tbesosure.It’llbeastrugglewhenIhate-fuckyouandputaholewithyourshapethroughyourmattress.”
Sailorgavemeanothershove.“ThenItrulyhopeyourfriendswon’tmindsleepingonaSailor-shapedmattress,becauseI’lldefinitelybetakingthenewbed.Goodluckandgoodbye!”
Thedoorslammedinmyface,andallIcoulddowaslaugh.
Goddammit,Sailor.
Downstairs,Killpickedmeuptogototheequestriancenter.IspenttheridefiddlingwiththeDalahorseonmyneckwhileCilliansneeredatnumerousthingswepassedalongtheway:abedofwiltingflowers,abrokentreeonthesideoftheroad,generallitter.Everythingpissedtheassholeoff.Hewasgoingtobedeadbyagethirty-threeofaheartattack.Hegavemesuchrotten-assjujuI’dneedtolockmyselfinaHinduholysiteonanIndianmountainforadecadejusttogetridofhisnegativity.
Whenwegotthere,IfoundoutCillianhadafewhorsesthatlegitbelongedtohim.Apparently,hehadn’tlimitedhisridinghobbytomyassalone.IknewKillhadplayedpoloinhisyouth,too,andwasmoreaccomplishedthanI(insertshockedemojihere),butwhenwehurledourtallframesontotwotwin,blackArabianhorsesandbeganriding,itwasprettyclearwewerebothskilled.
Cillianhandedmeahelmet,asaddle,andapairofboots.Helookedlikeaneighteenth-centuryaristocratinhisgear,andIwonderedifheenjoyedbeingsoperfecttwenty-four-fucking-seven.Fromtheoutside,itlookedexhausting.
Weheadedtotheneckofthewoods,thesaddle—madeofrichleatherthat’dbeenbrokeninbymybrother—tingedmynostrilswithanearthyscent.I’dmissedriding.Thereweresignsscatteredacrossthewoodswarningridersabouthunters(ironic).WhenCillianshotmeasidelongglancetoseeifIcared,Ishrugged,aidedmyhorse,andgallopedforward.StrayingfaronahorseIwasn’tfamiliarwithinwoodsIdidn’tknowwassupremelystupid,butIknewmybrotherwasresponsibleenoughtokeepusbothalive.
Killcaughtupwithmequickly.
“So,areyoustillplayingthepartofAugusteDupinandschemingSylvester’sdownfall?”
Ofcoursehe’dreferenceanEdgarAllanPoecharacterbeforeSherlockHolmes.Killthrivedonbeingdifferent.HeprobablythoughtIwasundertheimpressionAugusteDupinwassomesophisticatedFrenchdessert.Irodefaster,makinghimsweatfortheconversation.
“He’scookingsomethingup,”Iclipped.“YearsofbeinganassholemakemeanexpertatrecognizingshitheadswhenIseethem.”
“Itrustyourinstincts,”Killdrawledwithhisusual,gravepoliteness,ignoringthepackofblondestablegirlswhoburstoutofacornerofthewoods,gigglingandpointingatus.Cilliandidn’tevensparethegroupiesalook.Irealized,withsomeannoyance,thatIwasn’tparticularlyinterestedinsamplingtheirgoods,either.
“Thenwhyaren’tyoubackingmeuponthis?”Iseethed.
DidKill’shatredformetrumphisloveforRoyalPipelines?Itriedtoremaincalm.Cillianloathedemotions.Iwonderedhow,exactly,hewasgoingtogiveDathepreciousheirshewasobviouslywaitingforwhenmyolderbrotherwasappalledbyanytypeofemotion,lustincluded.
“Youstartedthis,putthingsinmotion.Nowit’syourjobtofinishit,”Cillianexplained,aidinghishorseandquickeningitspace,hisbackstraightasanarrow.Wekeptchasingeachother,changingpaces.Irememberedhiswords:“Everythingisapissingcontest.”
Ilaunchedforward,catchingupwithhim.
Songoftheday:“WildHorses”byTheRollingStones.
“Idon’tliketests,”Ihissed.
“Idon’tliketaxes,”hedeadpanned.“ButguesswhatI’mdoingeveryAprilfifteenth?Letmegiveyouahint,notfiveCaliforniancheerleadersonmyfriend’sfourteen-thousand-dollarcarpet.”
Ialmostlaughed.Forallhisshittiness,mybrotherwascoolerthanaTraderJoe’scashier.
“Thatsucks,”Igroaned,referringtoSyllie.Istillcouldn’tremembertheorgy.
“Welcometoadulthood.Leaveyourjoyandcreativityatthedoor.”
“WhatifIcan’tnailhim?”Idugmynailsintohishorse’scoat.I’dnoticedKillwaswarminguphisblackArabian,aidinghimfrequently,likehewantedtojumphim.Ifoundittypicalthathehadn’tevengivenhistwofavoritehorsesnames.Hewasimpersonal,eventothethingshewasfondof.
“ShameforRoyalPipelines,butwehadagoodrun,”hesaiddispassionately,staringahead.
Thehorseslungedlikeadreamandtooktothesaddleswell.Theywereyoungbutcalmandgood-natured.Werodeintothethickofthewoods,surroundedbytreesandmoss.Therewasaclearpathleadinghell-knows-where,thesunseepingthroughtheneedledpines,thefreshscentofearthsurroundingus.
CillianwasjustassuspiciousofSyllieasIwas.That’swhySyllieloathedhim.AnditwaswhyKillhadn’tridiculedmewhenIpresentedmytheory.
“YouwanttoseeifIfuckitup.”Isnappedmyfingers,finallygettingit
Mybrotherremovedaninvisiblepieceoflintfromhisridingcoat.“Youneedagoodchallenge.Justmakesuretohangtherebelinthetownsquareinsteadofhumpinghislegwhenyou’redone.”
“Fuckyou.”
“Languageisapowerfultool,ceannbeag.Youbetterstopabusingit.”
“Meaning?”Igavehimthestinkeye.
Iloathedhisself-control.Itfreakedmeout.Iimaginedhewasoneofthosesociopathswhocouldfucksomeoneforhourswithoutcomingjusttopunishthem.Hewasthatdisciplined.
“Pricelessandworthlessarethesamesum,presentedindifferentmanners.Wordsmakeyouorbreakyou.Bycursing,youreduceyourselftosomeonewhocannotconveytheirfeelingssufficiently.”
“Okay,GeoffreyChaucerJr.,backtoSylvester.Whatdoyouthinkhe’splanning?”
“Consideringheaskedformoresharesandasubstantialraiseafewmonthsbackandgotturneddownforboth,Iimagineheknowshe’sonhiswayoutandwantstostickhishandinthehoneypotbeforeit’stoolate.Hecouldskimmillionsfromthecompany.Billions,ifhe’sambitiousandfeelingextravindictive.”
HesaidbillionsinthesametoneIsaidpennies.Thatsumwasutterlydisposabletohim.
Killtookasharpturn.Ifollowed.Wewereridingaroundwhatlookedlikeanarcheryrange—notSailor’s,whichwasintheheartofthecity.Thisonelookedlikesomesortofacamp.Iwonderedifshe’deverbeenhere,beforerememberingIdidn’tgivetwoshitsifshehad.
Cillianaskedmeaboutcollege,andthenaboutSailor(“thefeistyredhead,”tobeexact),thenproceededtosaythemostshockingthingthathadevercomeoutofhismouth.
“TheFitzpatrickstakecareoftheirown,Hunter.Evenso,Idon’tneedtotellyouwehaveastricteat-your-youngpolicy.ButDadoesn’thateyou.”
“Whichone?”Iinquiredwhenwebegantomakeourwayfromthewoodsbacktothestables.“Yours,ortheEasternEuropeanfuckerwhoporkedourmom?”
“Theonethatmatters,”hequipped.“Theonethat’sputtingyouthroughhellsoyoucanwalkawaywiththeskillsittakestorunoneofthelargestcorporationsintheworldalongsideme.”
“Ifindthathardtobelieve.”
“Believe,anyway.Weallhavescars,”Cilliansaidicily.“Someofuschoosetowearthemlikefinejewels;othershidethem.Yousimplytrytoignorethem.Faceyourproblems,ceannbeag.Becauseguesswhat?They’renotgoinganywhere.”
“I’mgladyoumanagedlivingawayfromyourparents—fromyourfamily—fromagesixunscathed.ButI’mnotyou.Andletmetellyousomethingelsethatmightrockyourworld:Idon’twanttobeyou,either.Iwantedafather.Amother.Agoddamnbrotherandababysister.Thewholepackage.Ididn’twanttheprivateschoolsandthehorsesandthewealth.Ijustwantedafamily.”
“Afamilywasneverinthecardsforeitherofus,”Killhissed,ramminghisfeetintothestirrupslikeabeginner.Hishorsebucked,unusedtoitsownerraisinghisvoice.
Islowedmypace,eyeinghim.
“MotherhasbeenonantidepressantssinceAislingwasbornandwasunfittotakecareofahamster,letalonethreekids.Dawasrarelyhome.Hesleptintheofficemorethanhalftheweek.ThenannieswerenotallowedtoliveonAveburyCourtgrounds,becauseMomfearedDawouldhavesexwiththem,afearthatwasnotunwarranted.Inthetimeyouwereaway,shewenttorehabtwice.Aislinghasbeentossedaroundbetweennannieslikeatennisball.Callingthemamesswouldbetheunderstatementofthecentury.Theysentusawaybecausetheyknewourbestchanceatsurvivingthisfamilywashavingminimalcontactwithit.Thetruthis,IwasborntoinherittheFitzpatrickmessandshoulderallthefamilyissues,youwereborntoavengeAthair’sinfidelity,andpoorAislingwasborntotrytopatchupthechaosthey’dcreated.”
Ididn’tknowmymothersufferedfromdepressionanddependency,butIwastoopoisonedbylonelinessandneglecttofindcompassionforher.
“Yeah,well,workedforyou.”Igatheredphlegm,spittingittotheground.Ididn’tknowthataboutAisling,butitdidn’tsurpriseme.Mybabysisterwasacactus:adaptable,easytokeepalive,andthrivedonnexttonothing.KillandIweredifferentcreatures—athleticandspirited,wildandunrestrained.
“Quite,”hesaid,robot-like.
“Youdidn’tcarethattheytossedyouasidebecauseyouthinkyou’reabovelove,don’tyou?”Ididn’tthinkhewascapableoffeelingit.Ididn’tthinkIcould,either,butthat’sbecauseIwasbelowlove,undeservingofit.
“Loveisagreatmarketingstrategy.Sellsalotofbooks,movies,anddiamonds.Asidefromthat,Idonotconsidermyselfabigfanofit.”
“Nomarriageforyou,then?”Iasked.Killwasthirty,andaboutaslikelytosettledownasawildfuckingboar.
“Iwill,tosomeonewhoisfittosiremyheirsandfeelscomfortableraisingthemawayfromthecity—fromme.”
“Areyougoingtotime-traveltoacenturywhereanidealikethiswouldn’tearnyouaslapintheface?”Iwonderedaloud.Helaughed,actuallylaughedandshookhishead,muttering,“LittleNa?ve,sona?ve.Money’sagreatincentivetobeanything,evenaglorifiedslave.”
“Chauvinistmuch?”
“Hardly.Ididn’tlimitthisstatementtowomen.Icouldtameanymanfortherightprice,too.”
Wepouredbackontothetrack,entangledinourownthoughts.Iwantedtogetawayfromhere,butalsostaylonger.Ihadn’tspentqualitytimewithCillianinyears.Maybeever.AndIdidn’twanttogobacktoaSailor-lessapartment.Italwaysfeltcoldandhollowwithoutanotherpersonthere.
Wegottothestablesanddismounted.Ithankedmybrotherpolitely.
“TheirnamesareWashingtonandHamilton,”mybrotherhuffedoutofnowhere,strokinghishorse’snose.Thehorsenudgedhisshoulder,askingformore,butKillhadalreadyturnedandlookedatme.Hehadtheraretalentofgivingyoujustenoughforyoutowantmore,butnevertobringyoutosatisfaction.
“WhereareFranklin,Adams,Jefferson,Madison,andJay?”Asarcasticsmirkcurvedonmyface.
“Inthestables,resting,”hereplied,dead-assserious.Hestoodstraightandlookedgrim,andIrealizedmaybeCillianFitzpatrickdidn’talwayswanttobeCillianFitzpatrick,afterall.Itwasprobablydauntingtobeaboveeveryonetwenty-four-fucking-seven.
Fuck,I’ddiewithoutcursingalone.
Ishookmyhead,throwingmyarmoverhisshoulder.Hedidn’tswatitawaylikeI’dexpectedhimto,juststaredatmewithamixtureofconfusionanddisdain.
“Letmebuyyouaburger,”Ioffered,internallysweatingmyballs.Arejectionwouldcrushme.
“Idon’teatgarbage,”hedrawled.“ButI’lltreatyoutothebestmeatyou’lleverhave.”
IverymuchdoubtedhecouldoffermeanymeatbetterthanwhatIwaspoundingintothesedays,butagreedanyway.Whenwewalkedbacktohiscar,Cilliansaid,“TheBrennangirlisgoingtohaveyoubytheballsifyoutouchher.Donottouchher.”
“IcouldhandleherifIwantedher.”MymoodturnedsourasIthrewthepassengerdooropen.
Webothbuckledatthesametime.
“No,youcan’t,”hecountered.
“Sowhocan?”Ihissed,turningtofacehimasherevveduptheengine.“You,Isuppose?”
Hebackedoutofthegraveledparkinglot,takinghishandsoffthesteeringwheeltoattendtothetaskofPUTTINGHISFUCKINGGLOVESON.Icouldn’tbelieveIwasgoingtogetkilledinthenameofmybrother’ssupremefashionsense.
“IfIthoughtshewasworththeeffort,yes.”
“WhoisworthyoftheeffortsofthegreatCillianFitzpatrick?”Ileanedintomyseat,grinningvenomously.“HeirtoaWesternoilempire,withamaster’sfromHarvardBusinessSchool,thefaceofadeity,thebodyofAdonis,andthewitofathousandwhite-shoelawyers?”Iquotedwhathadbeenwrittenabouthiminatabloidacoupleyearsago,verbatim.
“Noone,”hesaideasily.“NonethatI’veencountered,atanyrate.”
“YoudiddatethatprincessfromMonaco,”Inoted.
Hislongestrelationshiphadlastedsixmonths.Isuspecteditwasbecauseshewasn’tcloseenoughforhimtofindflawsinherinatimelymanner.Hefinallyputhishandsonthegoddamnwheel,twosecondsbeforetakingasharpturn.“Yourpoint?”
“Youdate,youfuck,youlive—justlikeIdo.Youjusthideitbetter.”
“We’reonlyasbadasthecrimeswegetcaughtperpetrating.Learnfromthebest,andmakesuretostayawayfromBrennanandherfriendswhileyou’reatit—especiallythetwosisterswithgarbageformanners.AislinghasbeenparadingthematAveburyCourtlikewildbobcatsshecaughtinthehills.”
IthoughtitwasoddthathementionedEmmabelleandPersyspecifically,butIwastooriledupabouttheSailorcommenttocare.
“Surething,asshole.”
“Andstopcursing.”
“Fuckingfine.”“Oopsie-daisy.Anotherpennygoesinthepiggybank,”IwhisperedinJunsu’sear,tappinghisshoulder.
Mytrainerjumpedbackward,bumpinghisheadagainstthewallwithasurprisedyap.Junsuwasneverscared.Thiscaughtmeoffguard,andIstumbledintheoppositedirection.Wincing,herubbedthebackofhisheadashekilledhistelephonecallwithoutevensayinggoodbyetowhoeverwasontheotherline.Hetuckedhiscellintohisfrontpocket.
He’dbeenactingstrangelately—showinguplatetooursessions,disappearingdownthehalltotakepersonalcalls,losingfocus.Atsomepoint,I’dbroughtinapiggybankIfoundatthedollarstorenexttohisofficeandtoldhimhe’dhavetoputapennyiniteverytimehedisappearedoractedstrange.Itwasapleasantwaytomakehimrefocus.Ihadtoadmit—thepiggybankwasfillingup,fast.
Lasttimehe’dpickedituptorollanotherpennyintheslit,Icouldtellitwasheavy.Thepennydroppedwithasoftthud,hittingmorecopperedcoins.Thepig’sbellywasfull.
“Younotdothateveragain!”Junsuflashedhispointyteethatme,shakinghisfist.
Hemust’veseenthehorroronmyface,becauseherelaxedimmediately,squeezingmyhealthyshoulder.“Sorry.Thisjuststress.”
“AnythingIcandotohelp?”Ieyedhim.
Junsukepthispersonallifeunderwraps.Iknewhewashappilymarriedwiththreechildren,hadmovedherethirtyyearsago,andenjoyeddoingtaichiintheparkwithhiswifeeveryweekend.Heledablissfullyuneventfullife,butIwasbeginningtosuspectsomethinghaddisruptedhisstatusquo.Maybesomeonewassick?Oroneofhiskidsgotintotrouble?
Butno.Iknewtheywereallhealthyanddoingwell.TheonlyremotelynotablecrisisJunsuhadeverhadwasayearago,whenheandhiswifethoughttheycouldn’taffordputtingtheiroldestson,Kwan,throughColumbia.Hegotaccepted,buthadzeroscholarships.Finally,they’dmanagedtopullthroughandcomeupwiththefunds.Ineveraskedhow.Itwasn’tmybusiness.
“No.”Heshookhishead.“Let’sstartthetraining.”
Wefellintostep,headingfortherange,thesilencebetweenusbuzzinglikeaflyinmyear.
“Lana’sgoingtobehereintwoweeks.”Ibegantochewtheskinaroundmythumbnail.Itwasrawandpinkandspokethestoryofmyanxietythesedays.
Thepastfewweekshadbeenbrutal.BothLanaandIfoughtforthemedia’saffection,doinginterviewsandphotoshootsandjunkets.Iwasexhausted.Iloathedbeinginfrontofthecameras.Thissideofthebusinessworemeout.
Ilovedthesport,buthatedthecareer.
Junsuhitchedoneshoulderup,handsclaspedbehindhisback.Hislackofresponsedrovemeupthewall.
Iwetmylips.“ShouldIbeworried?”
“Yes,”hesaid.“Butsoshouldshe.Youarebothverygood.Oneofyououghttobeslightlybetter.Wewillfindoutwhosoon.”
Ishould’veknownbetterthantoexpectafull,glowingendorsement,wrappedinareassuringbowthatIwasgoingtokickherasswhenwemetforthefinalsinBostontodeterminewhichofuswasheadingtotheOlympics.Itwasn’tJunsu’sstyle.Still,hisanswerstung.
Afterourtrainingsession,Idrovebacktomyapartment,knowingKnightandLuna,Hunter’sfriends,werealreadythere.Theeagleshavelanded,Hunterhadtextedmeearlier.Ibailedoutofworkearlyjusttocatchthembumpingtalonsonourstairway.Totesgross.x
Theywerestayingtonightandtomorrow,andIwasafraidthey’dhateme,orworse,findmeunremarkableandinvisible,liketherestoftheworld.IwasfrightenedthatthebubbleHunterandIhadwrappedourselvesinwouldburstinourfacesoncemyroommategotthememoIwasjusttheawkward,feistygirlwho’dbeenassignedtobabysithimbutendedupcrawlingintohisbedjustliketheothers.
Whentheelevatortoourprivatepenthousedingedopen,myheartslammedsohardinmychestIwasnauseous.Laughterandhollersrolledfromthekitchen.MyeyesimmediatelydartedtoHunterandanotherguyourage.Theywereleaningagainstthecounter,drinkingrootbeerfromfancy-lookingbottles.Theguywastall—tallerthanHunter—andboringlybeautifultoapointofrevulsion.Tuckedunderhismassivearmwasatangirlwithcornrowsbraidedupintoaponytail.ShelookedlikeanEgyptianprincess—wildlystriking,withslanted,lighteyesandpillowylips.Hereyesping-pongedbackandforthbetweenthem,aslight,amusedsmileonherlips.HunterworeaBrunelloCucinelliwoolandcashmeresuit,andKnightwasinawhitePalmAngelshoodieandGiuseppeZanottileathermid-topsneakers.Theyworefifteen-thousanddollarsbetweenthemselves.
Crazyrichplayboys.
“Sothisgirl,Alice,isbentoverthebilliardtable,tellingthisassholeaboutherChristiansummercampadventures,andourboyHuntisfuckingherinfrontofanentireroom.”Hunter’sfriend,Knight,jerkedhisthumbtowardhim,cackling.“Nowgetthis,Moonshine.Allthistime,Hunterishaving,like,alegit,in-depthconversationwithVaughnaboutsomething—Idon’tevenrememberwhat—withoutbreakingpaceorasweatashe’splungingintoher.Whatwasityoutalkedabout?”KnightelbowedHunter.
Noneofthemhadnoticedmeyet,evenafterIsteppedoutoftheelevator,watchingthem,mesmerized.
Alice.AlicefromInstagram.Alicehewasflirtingwith.Aliceofhisown,privateWonderland.Myheartbledtar.Ifeltheavyandsluggish,mymindcloudy.Iwasjealous,Irealized.
“Whichseniorcelebrityyou’dratherdo,MichellePfeifferorMadonna,”Huntersupplied,takinganothersipofhisdrink,hishandtuckedintothefrontpocketofhislightgraycigarpants.
HelookedsomuchsharperandmaturethanKnight,withhisblondhairsleekedbackelegantly,liketherestoftheFitzpatrickclan.
“MichellePfeifferalltheway,”Iinterrupted,discardingmyduffelbagbytheentrance,strollingin.Alleyesdartedtomeinsurprise.Ismiledwithtoomuchteeth,tryingtoappearcalm,asIwentontoexplain,“BatmanReturns,anyone?”
“I’mgivingyouhalfthepoints.”Knightpointedatmewiththeneckofhisbottle.“Becauseyouhadthecelebrityright,butthemoviewrong.DangerousMinds,bytheway.I’mKnight.”Hedisentangledfromhisgorgeousfiancéetoapproachme.
Ireachedouttohim,expectingahandshake.Knightgrabbedmyhand,jerkingmeintoacrushinghugfullofsoul.Thisguy,Iknewbyhishugalone,camefromafamilyofprofessionalhuggersandknewloveintimatelyandmadly.Lunawasaluckygirl.
“Thankyoufortakingcareofourboy.Weknowhe’sacunt.”
“Knight!”Lunagiggled,buttingintoourhugandsqueezingme,too.Shesmelledlikeawarmfabricsoftenersheet,andhadzeromean-girlvibeaboutherdespiteherbeauty.“I’mLuna.”
“I’mSailor.”
“Weknow,”theysaidinunison,laughing.WhenwebrokethehugandturnedtoHunter,wefoundhimstaringatus,hisexpressionblank.
“IsaidMadonna,”hepointedoutmatter-of-factly.“‘LikeaVirgin’?NotafterI’mdonewithyou,babygirl.”
“Yeah.‘BurningUp’wouldbehersongthemorningafter,though.”KnightswaggeredovertoHunter,slappinghimontheback.
Wealllaughed,butIdidn’tfeelanywherenearhappy.Iwascomingfacetofacewithmynightmare,AKAHunter’sveryrecentpastandreputation,whichI’dtriedtopretendwasn’tapartofwhohewas.
ACasanova.
Amanwhore.
Aguynottobetrusted.
“So,arewegoingclubbingorwhat?”Knightcrackedopenanotherrootbeer,downingitinonegoandemittingaloudburp.“WegottacelebrateLuna’snewbookcontract.”
“Clubbingwithtworecoveringalcoholicssoundslikerealfuckingfun,saidnoone,ever.”Hunterstuckhisfingersintotheemptybottlesonthekitchenisland,usingthemasmakeshiftnailstopointbetweenhimandKnight.“We’llcelebrateyourgirlkickingassinanotherway.YeGoldRushkidsoftheWestareintheAthensofAmerica.WhileTodosSantosismorelikeAiyaNapa,I’mgoingtoshowyouagoodtime.Getready.Weleaveinfifteenminutes.”
KnightandLunaexchangedglancesandheadedtowardHunter’sroomforachangeofclothes,butnotbeforestressingtome,onceagain,howgratefultheywerefortheaccommodation—asifitwasmyapartment,notHunter’s.
Ididn’tfailtonoticethatHunterhadn’tincludedmeintheirplansfortonight,orevenacknowledgedmedirectlysinceI’dwalkedintotheapartment.Iwasn’tapartoftheireveningplan.Itriedtoignorethesharpsliceofdisappointmentinmychest,buttherealizationmadeithardformetobreathe.
“Headingtotheshower.Hopeyouhadagoodday,”Iofferedhimawaveandhalfasmile.
“Yeah,youtoo.”Hunterturnedhisbacktomeandbegantodiscardtheemptyrootbeerbottlesintherecyclingcan.
Ihalted,unabletotakeanotherstep.WasitsomethingIdidthatmadehimignoreme?Ididn’tthinkso.We’dslepttogetherlastnight.Andthenightbefore.Thismorning,hewokemeupwithhisfacebetweenmythighs,biting,nibbling,andlickingmeallover.
Butthat’sjustsex,Iscoffedinwardly.Apartofyourarrangement.Hedoesn’tseeyouasmorethanawarmholetokeephimsatisfied,ameanstoanend.Namely,hisveryfatinheritance.
Ihoppedintotheshower,lettingtheextra-hotwaterpoundagainstmyskin.Ialsobrushedmyteethtotrytowashthebitternessfrommymouth.BythetimeIsteppedoutofthebathroomwearingmySurelynoteveryonewasKungFufightingPJs(tenbucksonEtsy,afarcryfromthepeopleIwassharingaroofwiththisweekend)Iwasmetwiththreepairsofangrystares.
Hunter,Knight,andLunastoodinthehallway,cross-armed,scowlingatmelikeI’dwrongedthemsomehow.
“What?”Ilookeddown,makingsureI’drememberedtoputmypantson.Ihad.
“Whatwereyoudoinginthere?Finger-bangingyourselftotheimageofmefivehundredtimes?We’realreadylate,andyou’rewearingyourgoddamnPJs.Putonsomejeans.”Hunterwavedahandinmydirection.
“Oh.”Iflushedscarlet.“Ididn’tknow…Ithought…”Iclappedmymouthshut,realizingIwasbeingsuperawkwardagain.
Atthesametime,Iwasalsosorelieved,Inearlythrewup.
“Yeah,youdidn’t.Lettingmerunaroundlookinglikethisinacityfullofred-bloodedwomenandalcohol?”Huntergesturedtohisfullheight,headtotoe.“You’resupposedtokeepmecelibateandsober.Sogetyourassdressedanddo.”
Sothat’swhyheneededmethere.
Myheartsank.Figures.
Anhourlater,HunterpulledoverinfrontoftheCutlerMajesticTheateronTremontStreetinmycar.Theplacewasfamousforbeingapparentlyhaunted.Aformer,albeitfictional,mayorofBostonhaddiedtherewatchingaperformance.Therewerealsosupposedlythetwospiritsofamarriedcoupleandoneofalittlegirlwhoacceptedhiddengiftsthatwereleftthereforher.
Isharedthisinformationwithourguests,wholookedliketheywereabouttoboltbacktoCaliforniaonfootasHuntergotoutofthecarandstartedopeningdoorsforus.
“Ghosts?Blood?Murders?Vaughnwouldhavemarriedthisplace,”Knightsaid,makingHunterandLunalaugh.
I’dheardthenameafewtimes,butitmeantnothingtome.
“Well,fucker’snotonthecontinent.Besides,heandSailorwould’veprobablymurderedeachother,andIdon’thavetimeorenergytobeawitnessatalengthytrial.”Hunterclosedthepassengerdoorwithabangafterweallpouredout.“EspeciallywhenIcanalmosttastefreedom.Andpussy.Icantastethat,too.”
Youdo,everyday,Iwantedtoscream.OrdoInotcount?
Butofcourse,Iknewwhyhedidit.Wecouldn’tshowpeopleweweretogetherinthebiblicalsenseoftheword.Thatwasouragreement.
“Anyway.”Hunteryawned.“Irentedtheplaceforthenight.Thepersonalchefisalreadyhere.We’rehavingorganic,plant-basedfood,becauseLunaisvegetarianandSailoris…like,achick.”
“Oh!”Lunasqueakedinresponse,high-fivingme.Itriedtoremainupbeat.Likeachick?WasInotanactualwomannow?Besides,thiswasbullshit,andheknewit.Weateouttogetherallthetime,andIwasthemoreadventurouseater.Infact,onetimehesaidIhadthemetabolismofaquarterbackfratboy.
“Leaves,dude?”KnightthrewHunteralookthatsaidhe’dlostallrespect
“Fearnot.”Hunterraisedawarninghand.“Inreturnforourhospitalityinthefooddepartment—ifIcanevenindeedcallvegetablesfood—wewillbewatchingamarathonofold-schoolmovies,consistingofFightClub,TopGun,andDirtyHarry.”
“I’mnotsittingthroughthat!”Lunaexclaimed,comingdownfromherinitialeuphoria.
“Evenifit’sontopofme?Bareback?”Knightgrinned,hookinghismuscularbiceparoundherneck.Lunaswattedhisarmandlaughed.
Wemadeourwayintothetheater.Anarrayofdishes—salads,pastas,andcasseroles—werewaitingoutsideinthelobby,completewithamakeshiftdiningarea.Weatequickly,thenwentintothetheater.Thereweretwotheaterstaffpresent.Theydimmedthelights,putonthefirstmovie—DirtyHarry—andmadethemselvesscarce.Wewereseatedinthefrontrowoftheupperlevel,incompletedarkness,onplushseats.KnightandHuntercrossedtheirlonglegsattheanklesontherailings,withKnightputtingLuna’shandoverhishardthigh,strokingitlovingly.HunterandIdidn’ttouch,eventhoughwesatrightnexttoeachother.
Icouldn’tconcentrateonthefirsttwomovies—DirtyHarryandTopGun.AllIcoulddowasmulloverhowmuchitbotheredmethatHunterhadn’tshownmeanyspecialtreatment,oranytreatmentatall,forthatmatter.Howhardwasitgoingtobetofacerealitywhenourcontractwasup?
Overtheweekswe’dslepttogetherandlistenedtoSylvesterLewis’tapeswrappedaroundeachotherwithourAirPods,I’dwilledmyselftoimagineHunterwalkingawayfromme,sayinggoodbyeonelasttime.Ididitoverandoveragain.Ihopedthepainwouldsubsidewithtime—themoreIenvisioneditandthemoreIpracticed.
Itneverdid.
BythetimeFightClubstarted,LunaandKnighthadgivenuppretendingtheywerewatchingthemovies.Theywerefoolingaround,LunastraddlingKnightonhisseat.Theymadenoises.Moansandgroansandwetkisses.Theirteethcollided,fabricshuffled.Icouldn’tevendecipherwhetheritwasBradPittorEdwardNortononthescreen.IglancedatHunter,whowassandwichedbetweenmeononeside,andKnightandLunaontheother.HiseyesweredeadonthescreenashepouredabagofM&M’sintohisbucketofpopcorn,skillfullybalancingthehugethingonhisknee.
Ireturnedmygazetothemovie,mypinkyonthearmrestbetweenustwitching,touchinghisbriefly.
Touchme,fool.
Hepulledawayfrommytouchtoscrubhisstubbledjaw.Thesmall,unrequitedgesturefeltlikewhiplash.Myneedtobreakoverthatone,sillyrejectionoverwhelmedme.IfeltlikeI’dlosthimunexpectedlyandprematurely,aheadoftime.
Ifonlyyou’dpracticedimagininghimkickingyououtahundredmoretimes,huh?asarcasticvoiceinsidemetaunted.
“HaveyouwatchedFightClubbefore?”Iclearedmythroat.
“Isthisajoke?Dobirdsfly?”HethrewahandfulofM&M’sandpopcornintohismouth,chewing.
“Dependsonthebird.Ostrichesdon’t.”
Heturnedtolookatme.Icouldseehiminmyperiphery,frowning,likeIbelongedinamentalinstitution.
Kissme.
Claimme.
ShowthemI’mmorethanjustthesitter.
Insteadofvoicingmydark,erotic,patheticthoughts,Iyawnedandstoodup,stretching.
“Restroombreak.Willbebacksoon.”
“Now?Shit’sjustabouttogodown.”Hunter’seyeswidened.
Ichosethelongerpath,pasttheemptyseatsthatweren’toccupiedbyKnight,Luna,andHunterasanescaperoute.
“IsawBradPitttopless.Thatwastheheightofthemovieforme.Itcanonlygodownhillfromhere,”Imutteredtomyself.
Islippeddownstairstotherestroom.Ididn’tneedtopee,butItookthetimetofreshenup,washmyface,andstareatmyselfinthemirror.Iworeagray,off-shoulderdressandmycheckedVans,pairedwithadenimjacket.Stillcomfortable,butnotcompletedudebroattire.Smoothingmyorangehairwithmyfingers,Ilefttherestroom.TheideaofreturningupstairsandfacingmoreofKnightandLuna’slove,andHunter’saloofness,mademenearlyviolent.Besides,theplacewasallegedlyhaunted.Therewassomuchtosee.
Idecidedtotakeastrollalongthehallway.Itwasoldandimperial,withdozensofgoldenlightsglitteringlikediamondseverywhereyoulooked.Brownmarblecolumnsrosefromthefloorliketrees.Isteppedintothefirstflooroftheauditorium,underthedeck,whereHunterandhisfriendscouldn’tseeme.ThearchedceilinganddetaileddecorationsdidsomethingtomyheartIcouldn’texplain.Itsqueezedinpride—pridethatIwasapartofthiscity,asmallpartofthisplace’shistory.I’vebeenhere,Ithought.Inahundredyears,ormaybetwo,whenI’mlonggone,someoneelsewouldseeallthis.
Butnowitwasmyturntobaskinthismagic.
Iambledtowardthestage,movingintheshadows,invisibletotherestofthem.AquickglimpseupstairsconfirmedthatKnightandLunawerenotinaconditiontoseeanything.ItlookedliketheywerehavingsexundertheslipoffabricfromLuna’sflowerydress.ShemovedlikeawaveontopofKnight.Hunter’seyeswerestillonthemovie,coldandfullofire.Istumbledbackstage,behindthescreen,glidingmyhandovereverypieceoffurnitureandprop.IguessedTheNutcrackerwasplaying,becausethestageequipmentincludedwhite-and-red-stripedswirlycolumns,anaeronauticballoon,andaChristmastree.Myhandhaltedonasimplewoodenchairwithagowndrapedoverit.Iliftedthefabricandputittomynose,breathingitin.
Itsmelledofsweat,polyester,andhairspray.Isqueezedmyeyesclosed,knowingthemovieplayingonthegiantscreenhidme.Iwascompletelyprotected.
Puttingthegownbackwhereitwas,Ipickedupapieceofwrinkledpaperontheseatthatlookedlikeit’dbeenreadtodeath—asong,Irealized.
Hislovewaslikethesun.
Evenwhenitwasn’tthere,
Itdidn’tmeanitceasedtoexist.
Andevenwhenhisraysdidnotwarmherskin.
Hekeptheruniversealive.
Andevenwhenthenightengulfedherinloneliness,whenwinterwrestledhimoutofherlife.
Sheknewhewouldcomeback.
Healwaysdid.
Longaftertheysaidgoodbye.
Iclutchedthepapertomychest.Bowingmyhead,Ipressedmylipstothelyrics.God,whatwashappeningtome?
Ifeltthepapersnatchedfrommyhands.Myeyespoppedopen,andwhenIlookedup,IsawHunter,hiseyesdeadonmine.
IwasthefirstonetobreakourgazeasIwatchedhisfistclenchingthepaper,destroyingit.Ismiledsadlyattheirony.DidthatmeanIwascomingtotermswithourfate?Withourimpendinggoodbye?
Hunterthrewtheballedpaperbehindhisshoulder,erasingallthedistancebetweenuswithonestep.Hewasstillinhisworkattire,palegraysuitwithasilky,wine-redtie.Hetiltedmychinupwithonefinger.Islappedhishandaway.Iwasirrationallyangrywithhimandtooscaredtoadmitwhy,eventomyself.
BecauseIwasn’tcontentwithbeingjustthebabysitterhesleptwithtoletoffsteam.
BecauseIexpectedmorethanbeingtreatedlikeanacquaintance.
BecauseIwantedustohavewhatKnightandLunahad.
Heraisedoneeyebrowinquestion.
Iturnedaroundandwalkedaway.IwasalmostatthestairswhenHunterwrappedhisfingersaroundmywristandpulledmebehindtheburgundy-velvetcurtainthatfeltheavyandthickasitshieldedusfromsight.
Henuzzledhisnoseagainstmyface,inhalingmewithashudder.
“Whenyou’relikethat,youmakemewanttofuckthedefianceoutofyou,aingealdian.”
ForallthetimesI’daskedhimwhatmynicknamemeant,I’dneverhadthecouragetoGoogleitandfindoutmyself.Istillhopedhe’dvoluntarilytellmebeforeourtimewasup.Plus,Ilikedthemystery.IknewIwasprobablygoingtolookitupassoonaswepartedways.Iwasboundtoobsessovereverylittledetailoncehewasgone.Whichremindedme—Ineededtostartlookingforapartments,sincemyparentshadrepurposedmyoldbedroom.AnotherthingI’dpostponed.
“Youbarelyevenacknowledgedmeoutthere,”Iprotested,gladforthedimlightthathidmybright-redblush.Iwascrammedbetweenhishot,strongbodyandthewall.
“Ididn’tknowhow,”Hunteradmitted,hislipsfindingthelobeofmyear,nibblingatit.Hismouthhadawayofsendingshiverstotherestofmybodytheminuteittouchedaninchofme.“I’veneverhada…”Hepaused,thinkingabouthowtolabelus.
Girlfriend?
“Ladyfriend.Arealone,”hefinished,hismouthmovingtothecurveofmyneck,histongueslidingalongit.“Idon’tknowhowtocommunicatewithyouwithoutunbuttoningyourclotheswithmyteeth.”
“Soyoudecidednottopaymeanyattentionatall?”Mybreathhitched,butIkepttheconversationgoing.
WhenherealizedIwasn’ttouchinghimback,wasn’treciprocating,hetookmyhandandputitonthebulgebetweenhislegs.Hewashard.
Hejustwatchedhisfriendsbonerightinfrontofhim.Don’tfeelsospecial.
“Sincewhendoyoucare?”Hislipsskimmedmine.Heusedoneofhishandstograbmybuttandpinmeagainstthewall,andtheothertopullmydressupsohecouldpushhishandinsideme.
“Sinceyoumademefeellikeshit,”Icountered,squeezinghimthere.Ididn’tputmuchstrengthintoit,butIwasn’tgentle,either.IfIhopedit’dclearhimoutofhishormone-inducedfog,Iwasdeadwrong.Hunterjustlaughedthroatily,shovedmyhandintohisslacks,andcurledhisfingersoverminetomakesureIwasholdinghisshaft.
“Goodgirl.Upanddown,now.Rubit,baby.”
“Hunt,”Icroaked,butstillrubbedhimoff.IhatedthatIsuccumbedtohim.MyonlysolacewasthefactthatIdidn’tdoittogethimoff.Ididitbecauseitwasincrediblyhot.Us,makingoutinthishauntedtheaterthatwasalmostsolelyourstonight,foolingmyselfbypretendingIhadwhatLunahad,whenHunterclearlyofferedmenothingmorethansex.
“Yeah,baby,”hegroaned,grindingagainstmyhand.“Showthoseghostshowit’sdone.Casperpornalltheway.”
“Answerme,Hunter.Whywereyouignoringme?”Iasked,goingfaster,watchingashiseyesrolledbackwardsinagonyandpleasure.Hestilldidn’tanswer,soIstoppedmidway,withdrawingmyhandandfoldingmyarmsovermychest.Hiseyeswidened.
“Jesusfuck,Sailor!Whatdidyouwantmetodo?Kissyou?Makeoutwithyouinpublic?That’dthrowusoutoffuck-buddiespurgatory,whichisexactlywherewe’resupposedtobe.Ihaveashit-tonofmoneyontheline.You’vegotyourcareer.Thisshit’salmostover.Whykillthefunnow?”
Fuckbuddies.
Thewayhismouthformedtheword—themereexistenceofthewordinhismouth—madeeveryinchofmyskinblossomwithviolentgoosebumps.Fuck.Buddies.That’sallwewere.Friendswhohadsexwitheachother.
Hunterwantedustoremainnothing,andI?Iwantedeverything.
Sensinghewasn’tgoingtogetaverbalanswer,Huntertwistedhishandbetweenus,dippeditundermydress,andshovedmypantiesdowntomyknees.IshiveredwhenIrealizedhowwetandruinedmypantieswere,especiallyinthemiddleofourfight.
“Letmemakeyoufeelbetter,”hewhisperedintomymouth,kissingmeonceagain.Slow.Soslow.Designedtoseduce.
“Theymightcatchus,”Iwhispered.
“Letthem.That’llshowthemhowmuchattentionIgiveyou.”Heleanedforwardandgotridofmypanties,pullingthemallthewaydown.Ikickedthemaside,stillinmyVans.Hunterpushedmeflatagainstthewall.
“Spreadyourlegsforme,”heordered.
“You’renotthebossofm…”
“SweartoGod,Sailor,Iwillfuckyourmouthsohardyou’llloseteethifyoudisobey.”
Inudgedmykneesapart,openingmyselfinfrontofhim.Hecrouchedonhiskneesinhissuit,usinghisthumbstoopenthelipsbetweenmylegs.Heputhislipsclosetome,inhaled,thenblewwhatIknewwasafresh,mintyexhaleinsideme,pepperedwithachocolate-y,M&M’ssmell.
Iquivered,myhandsflyingtohisshoulders.“Doitagain,”Imoaned.
Heblewintomeagain,andIclenchedagainsttheair,beggingformore.
“Tellme.”Hunterspreadmewiderwithhisthumbs,andIfeltthepressure,theslightpaindownthereashestretchedme.“Doyoureallythinkyoucansaynotome?”
Ididn’tanswer,becauseIdidn’tlikemyanswer.Ijuststaredathimdefiantly,evenashewasclosetogivingmeanorgasmwhilehardlytouchingme.HunterFitzpatrickisadangeroushabit,Ithought.Ishouldbegladtoquithim.
Heblewintomeagain,hiseyesonmine.
Myhandsmovedfromhisshoulderstohishair,tuggingatthesoft,silkystrands.
“More.”
Heplungedtwofingersintome,curlingthemupwardstohitmyG-spot,thesoundofmywetnessaroundhimfillingtheair,andbegantothrust.Slowly.SoslowlyIthoughtIwasgoingtodie.Hiseyesdidn’tleavemineashedidit,hisexpressiongrave.
“Faster,”Icroaked.
Heshookhishead.
“Thisisapunishingorgasm,notarewardingone,Sailor.Youshould’vethoughtaboutthatbeforeyouhadtheideaofbreakingthisoff.”
Icollapseddownalongthewall,keepinghisheadbetweenmylegsandwigglingmybuttonthefloor,tryingtoquickenthepacemyself,buthewouldn’tletme.Hunterflattenedoneofhishandsagainstmylowerstomach,pinningmeinplace.
Imoaned.“Iwantmore.”
“Specify,”henearlybarked.
Therewasacommotioninthesceneplayingonthebigscreenthathidus.BradPittandEdwardNortonwerenothappycampers.Ithoughtweweresafefrombeingfound.
“Havesexwithme.”Iswallowedmyshame.
“Bzzzz,”hesaid.“Wrongterminology.Nowsayitlikeapropertwenty-firstcenturychick.”
“Fuckme,”Iwhispered,lookingdown.
Hequickenedhispace,knowingIwasclose.“Louder.”
“Fuckme.”Iraisedmyvoice.
“Can’thearyou,”hesing-songed.
“Fuckm—”Ibegantoyell,butbeforeIcould,hewasontopofme,unfasteninghisbeltandshovinghimselfintome.Hewentinbareback—thefirsttimewe’ddoneitwithoutacondom—andmyeyesbulgedatthesensationofhishot,silkyfleshinsideme.Igroanedintohisshoulder,clutchinghisbackashebegantomove.
Somewhereinthebackofmyhead,Iwasgladwe’dhadthatconversation.TheoneaboutSTDs.Itwasn’tofficialoranything—HunterhadcomplainedabouthisfatherforcinghimintobeingtestedwhenhemovedbacktoBoston—butstill,itwasnicetoknowchlamydiawasnotinmynearfuture.
Hepumpedfast—feral,jerky,andcompletelyoutofrhythm.HunterhadafewmovesI’dbecomeaccustomedto.TherewaswhatIcalledthestrippermove,wherehewouldplowinandoutinone,smooth,wave-likemovement,likeinsoftpornmovies.Thenhehadthefrat-boymove,wherehenailedmetowhateversurfacewewerelyingonandpumpedintomeinfast,deep,punishingthrusts.Thiswasneitherofthosethings.TonightheenteredmelikehethoughtIwasgoingtoevaporateintoairanymomentandheneededtofindhisreleasebeforethathappened
Ifeltlikehewasslicingme,breakingmeevenmore,andIdecidedtofightback.Iclawedmyrawfingernailsfromhisshouldertohischest,pushinghimaway,butnotreally.
“Ihateyou,”Imuttered,andherepliedbyshuttingmeupwithafilthykissfulloftongueandteeth.
ButImeantwhatIsaid.Ihatedthathemademefeel,thathe’druinedmyplantosailthroughlifesmoothly,withouthavingtogethurt.Ihatedthathe’dinvitedmetodrownwithhimathisparents’butterflygarden,andthestupidgirlthatIwas,Ihad.
NowIneededair.
Islappedhisface,hard,tobreakthekiss.Hepulledaway,shocked,butwhenhewasabouttopulloutofme,Igrabbedhisbarebuttcheeks—theonlythingbareabouthim,wewerebothfullyclothed—anddrovehimintomedeeper.
“No.Givemeanorgasm,andthenleavemealone.Imeanit,Hunter.We’rethrough.”
Somethinginhisfacechangedjustthen.
IrememberedanimportantthingHunterhadtoldmeoneday,whenwewerelyingtogetherinmybed.
“It’struethatI’veneverstayedwithawoman,butit’salsotruethatwomenneverstaywithme.Mymomneglectedme.Therevolvingdoorofnanniesdidn’thelp,either.Myonlysisterusedtoaskmydaforpermissionbeforecallingmebecausehe’dtoldherIwasbadinfluence.Anyotherchickwhonoticedmewantedtoeitherfuckmyfaceorgetaccesstomywallet.Womendon’tthinkhighlyofme,butthetruthis,Idon’tthinksohighlyofthem,either.”
Iwasdumpinghimwithoutevenbeingwithhim,playingonthenotionhehatedthemost—womenleavinghimunexpectedly.
Andhewasn’thappy.
Hunterthrustintomeagainandagainandagain,thepleasureheawakenedinmybodyatoddswiththesharppainIfeltinmysoul.Iwantedtotakethewordsback,butIdidn’twanttosacrificemyhappinessforhis,either.
Whentheclimaxbegantorockmebackandforth,euphoriawashingovermylimbs,Ifelthimpulsatingandtwitchinginsideofme.Hepulledout,heldhisengorgedredcockinhisfist,andextendedmyneckbytuggingmyhairback.Myheartthunderedinmychest.Hepressedthetipofhiswetcock—thatsmelledexactlylikeme—tomyhairlineandglideditdownmyfaceashecameinspurts,creatingalineofhiscumalongmyface.Hestoppedatmymouth,oneeyebrowslanted,hiseyesdaringmetorefusehim.
Iopenedmymouthobediently,andheshoveditin,finishinginmymouth.
Itiltedmyheadback,lettingithitthebackofmythroat,thenswallowed.
Hunterstoodupswiftlyandbuckledhimself.He’dopenedhismouthtosaysomething—somethingharsh,somethinghewouldundoubtedlyregret—whentheburgundy-velvetcurtainengulfingusswipedopen.
“Whoa,”Knightwhistled.Hestoodtothesideofthestage,slow-clappingus.
Lunawasbesidehim,cuppinghermouth,hereyeswide.
“Isthatathing?Ababysitterwithahappyending?”Knightgrinned.
Ifeltsomuchbloodrushingtomyface,IthoughtIwasgoingtoexplode.
Hunterturnedandwalkedaway,notevenbotheringtoanswerhisbestfriendorpickmeupfromthefloor,withhiscumstilldrippingfrommychin.ThesecondIwasdonewavinggoodbyetoKnightandLunaattheairport,IdrovebacktotheapartmentinSailor’scar,applyingmajor-assself-restraintnottoripthewheelfromitssocketandthrowitoutthefuckingwindow.
Shewantedtobailonthisarrangementnow,whenweweresoclosetothefinishline?Yeah.No.Fuckthisandfuckher.
Literally.Iwasgoingto.Punishingly.Becausethat’showshelikedit,andbecauseIdrewthelinewhenherinsecuritiesstartedmessingwithmysexlife.Damn,Ihadpre-cumleakingfromthetipofmycock,ninthgrade-style,justfromthinkingaboutwhatI’ddotoher.
Whenwe’dgottenbackhomefromthetheaterlastnight,Icouldn’thelpit.I’dwaiteduntileveryonewasasleep,pickedupthephone,andcalledCillian.Hesoundedlikehewasatabusyrestaurant,onlythatdidn’tmakeanysense,becauseitwashellalate.EverybodyinthebackgroundspokeFrench.WhenItoldhimitwasserious,hemutteredunderhisbreathandwentoutside.Thenoiseofwavescrashingontheshorefilledmyears.Wherethehellwashe?Cannes?Monaco?Fuckingheaven?
“Youbetterbedyingortalkingwithyourmouthwrappedaroundthebarrelofagun.It’sthreea.m.”Iheardtheflickerofalighterashelitacigar.Mybrotherdidn’tdopotorcigarettes.OnlyKingofDenmarkcigars.
Itmayhavebeenthreea.m.inBoston,butnotwhereverthefuckhewas.WasheinEurope?DidheuseDa’sGulfstreamer?WaytoleavethecarbonfootprintofathousandNephiliminthenameofexoticpussy.AndtothinkIwastheonewiththebadrepbetweenustwo.
“Wishfulthinking,brother.Itisunlikeyoutobeoptimistic.”Iadaptedhisflatlinevoice.
“Gettothepoint,”hehissed.
Ipaused.
“Promisenottosnitchonmefirst.”
Iwastakingabigriskhere,butIhadnoonetotalktoaboutthis.Knightwouldn’tunderstand.He’dknownhewasinlovewithLunabeforehewasoutofdiapers,ahopelessromantic.Vaughnwouldn’t,either.FuckerwassocoldIdoubtedhelovedhisownmother.
Thatleftmewithmybrother.Acomfortablemedium:deadlysociopathic,butwiththeabilitytomimicandthinklikeanormalhuman.
“WhatmakesyouthinkIcareenoughaboutwhatyou’reabouttosaytopromiseyouanything?”heasked,soundingentertained.
Cuntcuntcunt.
“Kill,”Iwarned.
“Onwithit,ceannbeag.Gossipisbeneathme.”
Everythingisbeneathyou,Ithoughtbitterly.
“I’mfuckingthenanny,”Iadmitted,flatout.
Myconfessionwasmetwithloudsilence.Iungluedmyphonefrommyeartoseeifthecallwasstillon.Itwas.Forasecond,IregrettedhowspontaneouslyI’dgivenmyhalf-brother—myfull-hater—enoughammotomakeDaleavemepenniless.
ThenCillianspoke.“Istheremoretothestory,oristhisastate-the-obviousthemenight?”hegrowleddarkly.
“Wait,youdon’tseemsurprised.”
“That’sbecauseI’mnot.”
“Howdidyouknow?”Isatuponthecouch.Everyone’sdoorswereclosed,sotherewasnodangerofmybeingheard.
“Figuredwhenshecalledmeaboutyouthatyou’dfoundyourwayintoherheart.Andtheonlytoolyouhavetodigintoawoman’sbodyisyourdick.Ididthemath.”
“DoyouthinkDaknows?”
“Doubtit.Hejustwantsyourdicknottoshooteverywherelikeit’sthewildwest,andyouseemcontained.”
“Well,Ihaven’tfuckedanyoneelseinallthistime.I’malsosober.”
“Idon’tcare.Movealong.Mytimeisprecious.”CillianflickedthecigarwithasoftthudIcouldhear.Themusicfromtherestauranthehadleftbecamelouderforasecond,whensomeonepushedthedooropenandcalledforhiminFrench.Heansweredher,alsoinFrench.Shegiggledandclosedthedoor.
Ishookmyhead.She’daskedhimwhathewantedforbreakfast.Heansweredwithhername—Rachelle.IGoogledthetimedifferencebetweenBostonandParis.Itwasninea.m.there.Fucker.Ishookmyhead.
“Anyway,weweresupposedtokeepthisshithappeninguntilshemovesout,butshewantstobreakitoffnow.”
“And?”
“AndIdon’twanttobecelibateagain!”Isnapped.Idiot.
Mybrotherchuckled.Hefoundfewthingsaspleasurableasmydistress.“Whatchangedhermind?”
“MyfriendfromCaliwasoverwithhisfiancée.Ikindofignoredherwhentheywerehere.Andwhenwedidtalk,Iremindedherthatitwasjusttemporary.IthinkIcalleditfuck-buddypurgatory.”
“Andtheysayromanceisdead,”henotedsarcastically.
“Fuckyou.”
“I’mstartingtobelieveI’mtheonlylivingpersoninBostonwhohasn’thadthedispleasure,”hejested.“DidyourfriendsbringupyoursordidpastinTodosSantos,byanychance?”
IthoughtaboutthestoryKnightwastellingLunawhenwethoughtSailorwasn’tthereandletoutagrowl.
“SheknewIwasaplayer.”Idismissedhistheory,thoughreally,couldIblameherforbailingonmyass?Theweekendwasdisastrous.
“It’seasytoforgetinacitywhereshe’syouronlysourceofentertainmentandyoursociallifeisnonexistent.”
“WhatdoIdonow?”
“Grovel.”
“Screwthat.”
“That’sanoption,butnotnearlyaspleasurableastheredheadedbeautysleepingunderyourroof.”Kill’shuskyvoicebecameroughened.
Hethoughtshewasbeautiful?Thatmademefeelstupidlyproudandinanelyangryatthesametime.
Anothergroanescapedme.“Gottago.Fortherecord,youdidn’thelpatall,”Isaid.
“Fortherecord,Ididn’ttry.”
Hehungupfirst,butsentamessageasecondafter.
Cillian:Toldyounottotouchthatone.
Now,twodayslater,hereIwas,pushingthedooropen,expectingtofindSailorinthekitchen,sulking,waitingforanapology(whywasIapologizingagain?),eyeingmelikeItookashitinherbed—likeshehadfortheremainderofKnightandLuna’sstay.Theworstpartwas,Iwasgoingtoapologize.I’dboughtflowersfromTraderJoe’s.
IevenGoogledbestflowerstogetachick
Iputworkintothisthing.
ButSailorwasn’there.Theapartmentwasempty.Istrodetothekitchenisland,disposingtheflowersonthecounterandimaginingtheworst—shewasjustthetypetothrowthelastfivemonthsawayandbailonme—whenInoticedapieceofpaperonthekitchenisland.
Ipickeditup.
Hunt,
Lanaisintownearly.IwenttoseeCrystalforanurgentmeeting,thenfoundoutwelandedtheGWcover.I’mflyingtoNewYorkandwillbebackinacoupledays.Notifiedyourfather.
Begood.
Sailor
IgrittedmyteethtoapointIwassurprisedtheydidn’tturntodust.
Ihadtwodaysofzerosupervisionwithoutmynannydearest,andallIwantedwastohaveherback.Theironywasn’tlostonme.Mymostunholytemptationwaslivingunderthesameroof,awolfinsheep’sclothing.Ipulledmyphonefrommypocket,butasIstaredathernameinmycontacts,Irealizedthiswasn’taconversationIwantedtohaveonthephone.
Itwasn’taconversationIwantedtohaveatall,tobehonest.
Besides,maybesometimeapartwoulddousgood.Maybeit’dsetherheadstraightandmakeherseewedidn’tneedeachotherafterall.MaybeitwouldremindmeofwhatSailorwas:atemporaryfix.I’dtalkedaboutherandanalyzedherbehavior—withmytyrantbrother,noless—whichmeantthisshithadgonetoofar.
ThemoreIthoughtaboutit,themoreIwashappyshewasn’there.Goodriddance.
Ihopedshe’dhavefunshootingtheGWcovershewasn’tevenexcitedfor.
Maybeshewould.Sailordidafinejoblyingtoherself.Shehatedfame.Loathedinterviews.Detestedbeinginthespotlight.Andrecently,Isuspected,she’dalsocometodespisearcheryitself.Shewasworkingonautopilot.
Feelingmynostrilsflarewithanger,Igrabbedtheflowersandshovedthemintothetrashcan,crammingtheminwithmyfoot,half-kickingthemalloverthekitchen.
Igrabbedmylaptopandretiredtomyroom,planningtogohamonsomeThaifoodandlistentoSyllie’srecordingstofinallyfindincriminatinginformationontheasshole.
Withoutthegoddamnnanny
Fourhoursintotherecording,Ihitthejackpot.
Bythesoundofit,hewasmeetingfacetofacewithsomeone.Ididn’tknowwho,butpriortothat,I’dheardhimdrivingforanhourandahalf,soitwaslikelyoutofBoston.He’dbeenfidgetyonhiswaythere—changedradiochannelsfrequently,sighedandmutteredprofanityatthetraffic.He’dcalledhiswifetwiceandforgottenwhathewantedtotellherbothtimes.KillhadcalledhimoncetogetsomedetailsaboutourrefinerytriptoMaine.He’dcross-examinedhimaboutthehealthandsafetyfailures.Threeofthemachinesthereweredown.Itallsoundedlikegibberishtome.Desalterunits.Vacuumdistillation.Aminegastreater.TheonlythingIknewwasthisshitsoundedlikesomethingIdidn’twanttotouch.AfterSylvesterhungupthephone,Iheardhimpunchingthesteeringwheelagainandagainandagain,mumbling,dammit.
He’dslammedhiscardoorshut(Imadeamentalnotetocheckwherehe’ddrivenwiththetrackingdeviceI’dputthere)andwalkedintosomeplace.Itsoundedquiet,theearthcrunchywithleaves.Hetalkedtosomeone.Male.Hesoundedolderandnotfromhere.Thick,EasternEuropeanaccent.Russian,maybe.HisEnglishwasimpeccable,though,hiswordsmeasured.
“Howarewegettingalongwiththeplan?”Sylliesniffed.
Hewaspacing,Icouldtell.Hoursuponhoursoflisteningtohisrecordingshadhelpedmerecognizehistells:thewayhetalked,walked,andclickedhispeninsuccessionwhenhewasnervous.
“Wearemakingprogress,butasIsaidbefore,itisasophisticatedoperation,andtherearealotofthingstotakeintoconsideration.Weareplanningforsevenpotentialscenarios.Themeninvolvedintheoperationwouldlikesomereassurancethattheirfamilieswillbecompensated,shouldsomethinghappentothem.”
“Andtheywillbecompensated,”Sylliesnapped.“AslongastheFitzpatricksareoutofmyway.”
“I’mafraidthey’llneedmoreassurancethanthat.Idonotblamethemforbeingskeptical.Itisnoteverydayabeggartriestodethroneaking.”TheEasternEuropeanmancluckedhistongue,lightingacigarettebythesoundofthelighterflicking.
“Whereisthiscomingfrom?”Sylliespat.“Thedetailsofourdealhavealreadybeensignedandagreedupon.”
“Dealschange.Theriskisgreat.Yourreward,greater.”
“Andthecontract?”Sylvesterwasprobablyfoamingatthefuckingmouthatthispoint.
“Goodasanyoldpieceofpaper.You’veyettopayapenny,andthey’veyettoexecuteyourplan.Theycanstillbackout.Rightnow,itseemsliketheyare.”
“YouthinkIhavemillionslyingaround,waitingtobegifted?ThinkabouttheamountofmoneyRoyalPipelineswillloseasaresult.We’retalkingatleasttwohundredmillinthered,nottomentionthelegalfees.Anddon’tgetmestartedonourshareholders.ItwillbeablackdayforWallStreet.”
Isatuprightinmybed,causingthehalf-emptycartonsofThaifoodtospillfromwheretheywereproppedonmythighstothecarpet.HellifIcared.ThiswaswhatIneeded—somekindofadmission,proofthatSylliewasplanningsomething.Andhewas.Weirdly,thefirstpersonIwantedtoruntowiththisinformationwasn’tDaorevenKill.ItwasSailor.Whichwenttoshowhowpussy-whippedIwas,becauseshehadnoskininthisgame.ButIknewhowproudshe’dbethatI’dnailedit.
That’sit,asshole.You’regoingcoldturkeyonthisbitch,evenaftershecomesback.Youneedtogetheroutofyoursystem.
“Youwillloseafractionofwhatyouaregaining.”ThemanwhospokewithSyllietookadragofhiscigarette.“Andhavetheworldatyourfeetinreturn.Ifyourexcuseforwhyyoushouldn’traiserefineryworkers’salariesisstirringpityinWallStreetbrokers,youmaywanttotryanothertactic.”
“Whatareyouasking?”Myfather’srighthandretorted.“Gettothepoint.”
“Theywouldeachlikethreemilliondollarsoverthecourseofthenextthreeyears,paidinunmarkedBitcoin,sotheycantradeandresellthemastheyseefit.Asforme,I’dlikeasubstantialnumberofsharesinRoyalPipelines.I’llbuythemkosher,andyou’llslipthemoneybacktomethroughthebackdoor.”
“Whatdoyouconsidersubstantial?”
“Fifteenpercentismystartingpoint.”
“Isthisajoke?”
“I’mafraidhumorisnotmystrongsuit.”
Therewassilence,andthensomearguing.Intheend,theydidn’treachanagreement,butitwaseasytoseetheEasternEuropeandudehadSyllie’sballsinavise.IstoppedlisteningwhenSylliestompedhiswaybacktothecarandslammedhisdoor.
IwantedtotakethistoCillianandDa,tothrowitintheirfacesandtellthemI’dbeenrightallalong.Infact,I’dshovedmyfeetintomysneakersanddroppedtheUSBwiththerecordinginmyfrontpocket,halfwaythroughthedoor,whenIrememberedwhatCillianhadsaid.
Itwasmyoperationtohandle.
Itwasmywartofight.
I’dstartedit,andIneededtofinish—ahuntergoingforthekill.
EventhoughIknewSylvesterLewiswasuptosomething,Ididn’thaveallthepiecesofthepuzzleyet.Therewasmoretounveil.Worstofall,IknewSyllietobeaveryresourcefulmanandwasafraidhe’dspinitsomehowwithhissmoothtongue.
No.Iwasgoingtowaititoutanddealwithhimmyself.
IwasgoingtoearnmyplaceatRoyalPipelines.
IwasgoingtoshowAthairIwashis.ThelastthingIwantedtodoafterNewYorkwasgostraightfromtheairporttothearcheryclub.
Myfeetblisteredfromstandingonheelsallday,myskinwasrawfromthemakeupthey’dslappedonme—thenrubbedoffofmyface—andmyscalpburnedfromallthehairsprayandtugging.I’dsatforthreehoursandansweredquestionsthathadnothingtodowitharchery,thenendedupmissingmytrainingsessioninNewYork.Everythingfeltchaoticandpointless.Sincewhenwasbeinganathleteaboutthefameandnottheactualsport?
ButJunsuhadinsistedImeethimattheclub.Thingsbetweenusweresostrained,Ifiguredappeasinghimwasmoreimportantthancatchinguponsleep.Besides,ahugechunkofmedidn’twanttofaceHunteragain.I’dreceivedradiosilencefromhimthelastcoupledays.
IaskedDad,whopickedmeupfromtheairport,totakemestraighttotheclub.Hedidn’tprotest,thoughIcouldseetheapostrophesbetweenhiseyebrowsonourwaythere.Iitchedtoreachandsmooththemwithmyfingers.
“Ifyouhavesomethingtosay,youmightaswelldoit,”Igrumbledasweroundedthestreettotheclub.
IknewheandMomwereworriedaboutme.I’dnevergiventhemanansweraboutthesummersemester.Ijustpretendedwehadn’thadthatconversation,shoveditintothejam-packeddenialdrawerinmyhead.
Fuck-buddypurgatory.Lifepurgatory.Samedifference.
“Youlooklikeyouhaven’tsleptindays.”Dadkepthiseyesontheroad,hisjawtwitching.
Growingup,ithadalwayssurprisedmehowmydad,whoseemedsoformidableandterrifyingtotherestoftheworld,gavemeprettymuchfreereignwhenitcametomyownlife.WhenIaskedhimaboutitonce,hesaid,“Icannotkeepyoufrommakingmistakes,becausethenyou’llneverlearnfromthem.Theworldistough,andcruel,andmostlyunfair.It’sourjobtofindawaytonavigateourwayinit.ThemoreIshieldyou,thelesschanceyou’llhaveofsurviving.”
“That’sbecauseIhaven’t,”Iadmitted,fiddlingwithmyseatbeltasweslicedpastrowsofred-brickedbuildings,littlecafes,andpottedplants.Theskywaswooly,heavywithgrayclouds.Autumnhadmoldedintowinter.Theseasonswerechanging,andwiththem,thecircumstancesofmylife.“ButIwill.NowthatLanaishere,allIneedistoproveIdeservetheOlympicspot.ThenIcanfinallytakemyfootoffthegas.”
“Likeyoudidinthelastdecade?”hequipped,stranglingthesteeringwheel.
“WhateverhappenedtolettingmemakemyownmistakessoIcanlearnfromthem?”
“Whateverhappenedtolearningfromyourmistakes?You’rekillingyourself,”hecountered.“Andseeingyoulikethisiskillingyourmother.Iwillnotbeawidowerbecauseyou’veachiponyourshoulderandsomethingtoprove.Clearly,theFitzpatrickboydidn’thavethedesiredeffectonyou.”
Dumbstruck,Iwhirledtowardhim,strugglingtokeepmyjawfromdropping.
“Excuseme?”
Herolledthesleevesofhisdressshirtup.“Ithoughtanarrangedrelationshipwouldworkforyouasitworkedforyourmotherandme.Iwaswrong,”hegrumbled,notatraceofapologyinhisvoice.
“HunterandIarenotinarelationship,”Ilied.Maybe.Whothehellknewwhatwewereatthispoint?
Dadhadkindof,sortof,okay—totally—kidnappedMomandmarriedherbackintheday.Theyhadn’texpectedtofallinlove,butfallmadlyinlovetheydid.Still,Istruggledtounderstandwhatmadehimthinkthiswasthenorm.
“ItsurelookedlikeitfromwhereIwassittingattheFitzpatrickdinnertable.”
“Hunter’scelibate,”Ibitout.
Dadside-eyedme,givingmethebored,shockinglycondescendinglookhesparedhisenemies.
“Don’tlietome,kid.Imakealivingoffmybullshitradar,andyourversionofthingsstinks.”
“SoyoujusthandedmeovertoFitzpatrickbecauseyouthoughtit’dloosenmeup?Openmyeyestothewondersoftheworld?”Iscoffed,aghast.
HethrewtheMaseratiintoparkinfrontoftheclub,butdidn’tkilltheengine.Ididn’tmakeamove.Junsucouldwait.Iwastoobusydigestingthefactthatmydadhadallbutpimpedmeoutinthenameofbringingmeoutofmyshell.
Dadranahandthroughhissalt-and-pepperhair,scowlingatthecenterconsole.
“Youneededapushintherightdirection.Stilldo.Itisfinenottobeboy-crazy,butyoucan’tignoretheworldforever.You’veneverhadacrush.Beauwasn’tacrush.Hewasafuckingbeard.You’venevertakeninterestindoinganything,becomingsomething,pursuingaprofession.Youneededsomeonetointroduceyoutotheworld.Hunterwassupposedtobetheguytodoit.”
Hunterwastheguy,Ithoughtbitterly.Thankstohim,IhadAsh,hadlearnedhowtopushmyselfforward,tobelieveinmyself,andstooduptoJunsu.Becauseofhim,I’dstarteddressingupandpayingattentiontowhatIlookedlike.Hunterhaddraggedmeoutofthehousetorestaurantsandthetheaterandtomeethisfriendsandfamily.Hemademeapartofsomethingbiggerthanmyteeny-tinylife.Icouldn’tdenyit.AndHunter,likemyparents,hatedmyobsessionwithwhatIwasdoing—mytunnel-visionedquesttotheOlympics.
“Heis,”Icroaked,staringatmyhandsinmylapnow.
Dadlookedupatme,surprised.
Iclearedmythroat.“Heisthatguy.Hechangedme,Dad.MaybenotasfastorasthoroughlyasyouandMomhadhoped,buthedid.I’mnotthesamepersonIwaswhenwemovedintogether.”
“Thenwhythefuckareyoustilllikethis?”Hepeeredatme,puzzled.Hewassuchaman.
“Likewhat?”
“Still…”Hemotionedinmygeneraldirection.“Consumed.Obsessed.You.”
“Becauseit’snotsoblackandwhite.Andanyway,we’renottogether-together.”Ifeltmycheeksheating.Icouldn’tbelieveIwastalkingtomydadaboutthis,ofallpeople.ItwasliketakingdatingadvicefromDracula.“Heisnotseriousaboutme,”Iadmitted,myvoicecomingoutsofterthanIintended.
“Iwasn’tmarriagematerialbeforeyourmothermademe.Bepatient.”Heflashedmeararesmile,rufflingmyhair.“Nowgetthefuckout,sweetheart.Ihavework.”
Ichuckled,pushingthepassengerdooropenandgettingoutwithmoreenergythanI’dhadforthecoupledaysIspentinNewYork.
“Goodluck,baby.”
“Thanks,Daddy.”
Bill,thereceptionistattheclub,informedmethatJunsuwantedtoseemeinhisoffice,buthewasrunningalittlelate.
“Emergencyathome.He’llbeheresoon.Justwalkrightin.”Billmock-punchedmyshoulderhello.
Irolledmyluggagearoundhiscounter.“Thanks.MindifIleavethishere?”
“Bemyguest.”Heshrugged,gettingbacktohunchingoverthedeskinfrontofhim,playingsolitaireonhislaptop.
WalkingtoJunsu’sofficefeltdaunting,death-rowlike.Iknewhewasunhappywithme,andIknewweweregrowingapart.Thefamiliarhallwayfeltnarrower,theairstuffy.IrealizedDadwasright.ItwastimetostopresentingHunterforhispastandgivehimafairchance.MaybeafterImovedoutwe’dcontinueseeingeachother.Maybe—justmaybe—HuntersaidallthosethingsaboutourarrangementandhowitwasalltemporaryforthesamereasonIremindedmyselfthatwehadanexpirationdate:tokeephimselffromhurting.
Todaremetodefyoursix-monthplan.
Thetruthwas,forthepastfewmonths,therewasnowhereI’dratherbethanwithHunterFitzpatrick.Hewasmyhome,thelittlecornerintheuniversethatunderstoodme.
IknockedonJunsu’sdoorbeforerememberingBillhadsaidhewasn’tthere.Pushingthedooropen,Itookastepin.
Froze.
Suckedinabreath.
Mylungscollapsedfirst,thenmysmile.Onebrickatatime.Mysystemshutdown,mythroatdriedup,andmyheart…
Itskippedabeat…no,two,threebeatsbeforeitstartedhammeringinmychestviolently,desperatetoburstoutandflaphelplesslyonthefloor,likeafishoutofwater.
“JesusChrist!”Mythroatburnedwiththescream.
HunterwassittinginJunsu’schair,naked.Lanawasontopofhim,straddlinghisnarrowwaist.Shewaswearinghisdressshirtandseeminglynothingunderneath.Shehadherbacktome,buttherewasnomistakingthelush,brunettehairextensions.Herarmswerewrappedaroundhisneckpossessively,herfaceburiedinhischest.
Iwantedtothrowup.
Lanaspunherheadinmydirection,herlipscurlingintoavicioussmilethatcutthroughmelikeablade.SeeingherupcloselikethisaftersomuchtimefeltlikecomingfacetofacewithEchinda—half-woman,half-snake,allpoison.
“Oops,wasthisoneyours?”shepurred,runningamanicured,nude-colorednailacrosshisfinejaw.Hunterswattedhertouchaway,sobering.
Itookastepback.Tentatively.
“Fuck.”Hedartedup.“Sailor,wait!”
Fuckindeed.
Hehadhispantson—thankGodforsmallmiracles.Lanadroppedtothefloorlikeasackofpotatoes,andhesteppedaroundherlikeshewasdirtonhiswaytome.Iturnedaroundandran.Notwalked—ran.Iknewifhegottome,he’dseeeverythingonmyface,theugly,pathetictruthofmyfeelingsforhim.TheonlythingIhadleftwasmypride.Hewasnotgettingit.
Myheart,maybe,butnotmypride.
Hunterchasedme,hisfootstepsringingoffthewallsofthehallway.Ithoughtaboutwhatthey’ddone,puttingthestorybehindthehorrificscenetogether.Shehadhisshirton,whichmeantshehadtohavebeennakedwithhimatsomepoint.They’dhadsex—filthy,intimate,roughsex.WhenheknewhowmuchIhatedher.BadbloodranbetweenLanaandmelikeariver,andHunterhadbathedinit.He’dhandedhermyass.He’dbetrayedme.
“Stop!Justletmeexplain.”HunterwasatmyheelsasIburstthroughtheglassdooroftheclub,realizingIdidn’thavemycar.Frantically,Ilookedleftandright,noticingtherewerealotofcarsIdidn’trecognizeintheusuallyemptyparkinglot.
Billgotupfromhisstationandrantothedoor,butIshookmyhead.“Icanhandlethis,Bill.”
Ididn’thavetimetocallanUber.Ihadtoescapebyfoot,atleastuntilIgotridofHunter.
“Sailor.”Hunterspunmebymyinjuredshoulder.Histouchfeltlikefire.Itburnedthroughme,andInearlyyelped.Hewasstillshirtless.
“Don’ttouchme!”Iclawedathisskindesperately,managingtoleavebloodyscratchesonhisforearm.
Heignoredthem.“It’snotwhatitlookslike.”Heraisedhishandsindefense.
Iheardcommotionaroundus,butnothingregisteredotherthanthewhite-hotangercoursingthroughmybody.
“You’dsaythat,wouldn’tyou,consideringIholdyourfutureinmyhands.”Istartedtakingthestairsdown,butHunteryankedmebackup,bringingmetohischestandenvelopingmeinafiercehug.Itriedtokickhisnuts.Hegrabbedmyknee,pushingitaside,knottingmylegaroundhim.Hecuppedmyface,shieldingmefromsight,andwhisperedintomyear,“Don’tlookup,baby.”
Ilookedupdisobediently,feelinganugly,tauntingsmilemarmyface.Iwantedtohurthimback.WhatIsawwasclosetoadozenphotographers—paparazzi,nodoubt—takingphotosofus.Theflashesfeltlikelashes,eachcatcallandmuffledlaughabeatingtomysoul.
Click.Click.Click.
Me,heartbrokenanddistraught.
Click.Click.Click.
Him,half-nakedandguilty.
Inearlycollapsedwiththeadrenalinebuzzingthroughme,butHunterdraggedmebackintotheclubandshutthedoor.Thephotographersfollowedhimtothethreshold,butdidn’tgetinside.
“Letgoofme,”IroaredasHunterhoistedmeupbymymidriff,mybackpressedagainsthishardchest,andpulledmetothebackhallway,kickingandscreaming,wheretheycouldn’tseeus.IwonderedwhereLanawas,howmuchpleasureshetookfromthis.
Infiniteamounts.
Hunterpinnedmetothewall,breathinginmyface.Hisbreathsmelledlikeawoman,ofacloying,sweetperfumeandhintsofwatermelonlipgloss.Hislipshadsomeglitterresidue.Mybodyshookwithsomuchanger,betrayal,anddespair,thefirstthingIdidwhenhereleasedmewasslaphischeekwithalltheforceIstillhadinme.Hisfaceflewintheotherdirection,andheclosedhiseyes,drawingacalmingbreath,hisnostrilsflaring.
“Aingealdian.”
“Callmethatnameonemoretime,andI’llgougeyoureyeoutwithoneofmyarrows.”
“We’vebeensetup.Somebodycalledthephotographers.Somebodywantedthemtoseemelikethis.Youlikethat.”
“Andofcourse,you,forevertheeasypreywhereaprettywomanisconcerned,rosetotheoccasionofbeingseduced,”Iexclaimedtheatrically,myuncontrolledrageturningintobittersarcasm.“PoorHunterFitzpatrick.Soclosetohisfamily’sfortune,yetso,sofar.”
“Ididn’t…”hestarted,butIpushedhimaway.Hecouldn’tdenywhatI’djustseenwithmyowneyes.
“Savemetheexcusesandleave.”
Junsucamerunningthroughthecorridor,thunderinhiseyes.
“Getawayfromher!”hebarkedlikearabiddog,shakinghisfistintheair.HepossessedavitalityIhadn’tseeninhimformonths.“Ikickyourass!”
Hunterliftedhishands,lookingbetweenthetwoofus,hisdeepbreathscontractinghisabsintoatightsixpack.
“Sailor,”Huntermurmuredunderhisbreath.“IhavesomethingsIneedtotellyou,andweneedtohavethisconversationalone.”
“ThisisthelasttimeI’mgoingtorepeatmyself.”IliftedmyfingertoHunter.“We’redoneforever.Don’ttalktome.Don’tapproachme.I’lltalktoyourdadaboutthefineprintregardingour…arrangement.”Ikeptitvague,asifIhadn’ttoldJunsuallthedetails.“I’llsendmydadandSamtopickupmystufffromtheapartment.”
Withthat,Iboltedbacktowardthedoor,pushingthroughitwiththespeedofabullet.Someofthephotographerswerestillloiteringaround,smokingandlookingattheirphones.AssoonasIburstout,theypickedtheircamerasupandstartedchasingme.
IcaughtsightofLanastandinginthecorneroftheparkinglot,fullydressedinachicoff-shoulderpinksweater,skinnyjeans,andridingboots,givinganinterviewtoasportsreporter,addressingtherumorsaboutherandhernewbeau,HunterFitzpatrick.
“It’sstilltheearlydays.”Shelaughedthroatily,makingashowofflippingherhair.“Andasyoucansee,unfortunately,there’salotofinterestfromunwantedfemaleadmirers.”
Thereportersburstoutlaughing,noddingenthusiastically.
Me.Iwastheadmirer.Thestalker.Theweirdidiotwhohadapublicmeltdownwhenshefoundthem.TheneedtothrottleLanamademyfingertipsburn.
Allbecauseofonemistake.Oneaccident.OnetragedythathadlinkedLanaandmetogetherforever.
IknewHunterwasbeingescortedoutoftheclubbysecurityunderJunsu’ssupervision,andthatmytrainerwouldunderstandwhyIcouldn’tstay,soIstartedrunning.IputonefootinfrontoftheotheruntilIhitagoodpace.Mymotherwasarunner.I’dinheritedmylithe,athleticlegsfromher.Runningrelativelylongdistances,evenwithoutpractice,wasn’taproblem.
ItwaswhenthewindhitmyfacethatIrealizedIwascrying.Theheatofmytearsagainstmyice-coldcheeksmademyfacefeelnumb.MytearsflewbehindmeasIslicedthroughtheair,runningfaster,towarddowntown.I’dmakeaphonecallafterIdodgedthephotographers.First,Ihadtolosethem.
ItwasonlywhenIwasfifteenblocksfromtheclubthatIdaredpeekovermyshoulder.Thepaparazziwerenowhereinsight.They’dalreadygottenwhattheywerelookingfor—ascandaltheycouldspinamilliondifferentwaysandjuicyphotosthat’dgettongueswagging.
Istoppedatatrafficlight,pressingmyhandstomyknees,panting.AssoonasIregulatedmybreath,Itookmyphoneout.TenmissedcallsfromJunsu.TwelvefromMom.TwofromDad.FourbetweenSam,Emmabelle,andPersy.Thirty-onefromHunter.Mybatterywasdying.
IhitthedialbuttonandcalledMomback.
“Hey,Mom,canyoupickmeup?”ItriedtokeepmyvoiceascasualasIcould,eventhoughIknewsheknewsomethingwasup.Shewouldn’tcallmesomanytimesfornothing.Someofthepicturesmusthavehadalreadyhitthewebsitesasthenewsbroke.
AllIheardwasasniffontheotherline,andthen,“Onmyway.”
Laterthatnight,thegossipsitesaddedaconvolutedstorytothepicturesofmestormingoutoftheclubandHunterchasingmehalf-naked.AsIsuspected,theheadlinesrangedfrom“HunkDumpsArcherSailorBrennanforBombshellLanaAlder”to“Billionaire’sSon(yes,theonewiththesextape!)CaughtCheatingonOlympicHottie.”
TherewasevenonestoryclaiminganinsiderinsistedHunterandIwereinanarrangedrelationshiptokeephimoutoftrouble.Ihadnodoubtwho’dorchestratedtheentirething:Lana.TheminuteshefoundoutIlivedwithhim,shewentafterhimandputthisentirenightmareinmotion.TheonlythingIstillcouldn’tfigureoutwashowshefoundoutwhoIlivedwith.Whogavehertheinfo?
“Imean,theydidcallyouahottie.”Emmabellepassedmeatuboficecream,snatchingthephonefrommyhandsoIcouldn’treadmorespeculationsaboutmyrelationshipwithHunter.Belle,Persy,andAislingwereallperchedinmychildhoodbedroomonmyoldbed,whichmyparentshaddraggedbackfromstoragewhennewsofHunterandLanastartedmakingtherounds.Momfloatedinandoutofmyroomperiodically,offeringmilkshakes,cookies,andicecream.NotonlywasIheartbroken,butnowIwouldlikelydieprematurelyoftypetwodiabetes.
“TheyalsoreferredtoyouasanOlympicathlete,”Aislingpointedoutsheepishly,munchingonherlowerlip.
Itwasprobablyweirdforhertobehere,beingthesisteroftheoffender,butshekeptastraightfaceanddidn’ttrytodefendhim.
“So,areyougoingtotellusHunter’scharges?”Emmabellepokedmyribs.“Arewetalkingbreakingthecontractandscrewingyouoverwithhisdad,whichisinfuriating,albeitredeemable,orisit…more?”
Iwaswashedwithsympatheticgazes.AlthoughmyfriendshadpracticallywitnessedmyfoolingaroundwithHunter,I’dneverconfirmedmyrelationshipwithhim,andthey’dneverpushed.
Feelingmythroatworking,Ibegantopickinvisiblelintfromtheblanketontopofmycrossedlegs.Ifeltguiltyfornotconfidinginthemsooner.Ineverkeptanythingfrommyfriends.
“Areyouaskingifweweretogether?”Iclearedmythroat.
ThetuboficecreamwastransferredintoPersy’shandwhenBellerealizedIwasn’tgoingtoeatany.
“We’reaskingifyou’reinlove,”Persysaidgently,squeezingmythigh.
“Andbyproduct,ifweneedtogothereandkickhisass.”Emmabelleflexedhernonexistentbicep.“Don’tworry,Aisling.You’reexcusedfromthetask.”
“Oh,I’llbetheoneaimingstraightforhisgenitalstoshowwheremyloyaltylies.”Aisling’seyesflared.
Weallburstoutinlaughter.Evenme.
Aislingshookherheadandpattedmyleg.“Iwillneverforgetthedayyoubroughtmeintoyourcircle.”
“Iknow,butbloodisthickerthanwater,”Icroaked.
“Thatmaybe,butloyaltyisthickerthanblood,”Aislingreplied.“We’reateamnow.Apack.TheBostonBelles.”
Theroomfellsilent.Thenewnicknamerollednicelyoffhertongue.Itrangtrueandsweet.Ismiledagain,mainlytomakemyfriendsfeelliketheyweregettingsomewherewiththeirattemptstoconsoleme.
“So?”Emmabelleturnedtheconversationbacktome.“Areyouinlovewiththewell-endowedsex-tapeprince?”
Itwassolikehertofindhissextapeandwatchitonrepeat.
“Yeah,”Iansweredquietly,surprisingevenmyself.“God,Iam.Crap.”
“Crap,”theyechoedinunison.
“Indeed,”Belleaddedhelpfully.
Shecoveredmewithherbody,drapingovermelikeasecondblanket.Persyhuggedmefromoneside,theicecreamtubstillinherhand,freezingthebackofmyhead,andAislingclimbedthebedandhuggedmefromtheotherside.Myfriendsengulfedmefromalldirections.
Ifeltloved.Soloved,Icouldn’thelpbutwonderhowthemanIhatedsomuchrightnowwasdoing.
Hunterdidn’thavefriendshere.
Nosupportgroup.
Good,Ithought.Lethimrotinhellandfeeltheweightoftheconsequencesofhisactions.
Themorningafter,IpaidavisittoGeraldFitzpatrickathishomeoffice.Itwasbuttcracko’clock,butIwantedtogetitoutofthewaybeforeIstartedtraining.Also,comingintohisofficeandriskingfacingHunterwasmyideaofhell.
DadhadpickedupmycarandbelongingsfromHunter’sapartmentthenightbefore.Ididn’taskhimifhesawmyex-roommate,buthementionedHunterhadtriedcallingmeseveraltimes.Severalwasninety-six,tobeexact,includingsometextmessagestryingtocoaxmetolistentohim.AtsomepointHunterhadtextedthathewasoutsidemyparents’building.He’dwaitedthereforfourhoursbythetimestampofhistextmessages.
Iblockedhisnumberafterthat.
“Isupposeyou’reheretoapologizeforyourcolossalfailure,”Mr.Fitzpatricksneeredbehindhisdarkoakdesk.Hisofficeconsistedofawall-to-ceiling,back-to-backlibraryfulltothebrimwithbooks,adesk,threechairs,andaminibar.ExpensivepaintingsbyPicassoandModiglianihungontheverylittlespacethatwasn’toccupiedwithbooks.Thetaxonthosethingsalonecouldbuysixhouseshereinthecity.
“Notexactly,”Isaid,keepingmybackstraight,mydemeanorcalm.Iwasstillstanding,asIhadn’tbeeninvitedtositdown.Justaswell.Iwantedtomakeitshortandnotsosweet.
“AreyoudenyingthatmysonsleptwiththeAldergirl?”Geraldraisedathick,bushyeyebrow,hisindexfingercoveringthelengthofhistwistedmouth.
“Ididn’tcatchthemhavingsex.”Ipoppedoneshoulderup.
“Soyou’redefendinghimyetagain?”Hiseyeswidened.
Ishookmyhead,meetinghiseyes.“No.ButIcan’tcondemnhimforwhatIdon’tknowforafact.ButIdoknowIsleptwithhim.Idon’twantthisonmyconscience.ThisiswhyI’mheretoday,totellyouIbetrayedyourconfidence,brokethetermsofourdeal,andwon’tbegoingthroughwiththelastmonthofouragreement.Pleasesendmetheinvoiceforthemoneyyou’veinvestedinmycareersoIcanrepayyou.”
Isteppedforward,slidinghimasheetwithmyinformation.Myfingersshookaroundit.“Forwhatit’sworth,IknowHunterhasn’tbeenwithanyoneotherthanmyselfandperhapsLanaAlderduringthosemonths,andhewasalwayssober.He’sputalotofeffortintoworkandcollege,gaveithisbestshot.”
IleftouthislatenightsworkingontheSyllieProject,aswe’dcalledit.Itwasn’tmytaletotell.
Geraldleanedforward,ignoringthedocumentI’dplacedbetweenus.“Areyouimplyinghedeservestheinheritance?”Hescowled,eachwordspatlikeitwasprofanity.
Mythroatbobbedwithaswallow.IcouldmessitupforHunter.Andapartofme—notasmallpart,Ihadtoadmit—wantedtodojustthat.Becausemyheartwasinpieces.Eversinceyesterday,Ihadn’tfeltlikemylungswerefull,nomatterhowmuchItriedbreathing.Itfeltlikesomethinghadbeenrippedfrommychest,andthehollownesshadspreadtotherestofmelikeadisease.
ButruiningitforHunterwasalsoruiningitforme.
Ididn’twanttheresponsibilityoftarnishinghislife,evenifhe’dshatteredmine.
“Ithinkhedefinitelydeservestobeapartofthefamilybusiness,andtohavehispieceoftheinheritance,”Iansweredevenly.“Heisachangedman,despitehismishap.”
Everywordfeltlikeaswordinmymouth.
“AndyouarewillingtopayforyourPRcampaign?Coverallcosts?”hestressed,hisfaceunreadable.
Washeacceptingmyoffertopayforeverything,orwashegoingtosecretlysuemeforeverythingIhad?
“Yeah.”Ilickedmylips,resistingtheurgetonibbleatmythumb.“I’llpayforeverything.Imightneedtohaveamonthlyplan—Iwon’ttakethemoneyfrommyparents—butIwill.Ipromise.”
Hestaredatmeharshly.“Leave.”
Ilookedaroundus.Theroomwasquietandemptyandcold,likeitsowner.
“That’sit?”
“Yes.Getthehelloutofmyoffice.”
“Sir,I—”
“Out.BeforeIchangemymindandmakeitmuchworseforbothofyou.”
Iturnedaroundandmarchedtothedoor,haltingwhenIreachedthethreshold.Something,maybemydignity,willedmetochanceonemorelookathim.
“Ireallyamsorry,”Iwhispered.“AndIknowheis,too.IfHuntercouldbeanythingintheworld,itwouldbeyourson.Yourrealson.”
Hisheadwasbowed.Ifheheardme,Icouldn’ttell.Hisshoulderstrembled,justforasecond.
Crying?Laughing?Shakinghishead?
Onethingwasforsure:GeraldFitzpatrickdidn’tfullyhatehisbastardson,whetherheadmitteditornot.
Myreputationwasinthemud.
IknewthatassoonasIgottothearcheryclub.Afewreportersmilledaroundthedoor,flickingcigarettebuttsandtalkingamongthemselves.Ishoulderedpastbeforetheircamerascouldaimatmelikeweapons.Junsuwasquicktoopenthedoorfromtheinside,jerkmein,andslamitintheirfaces.
Heusheredmetohisoffice,hishandonmyback.“Theboyruinedeverything,justlikeIthought,”hemuttered,hishairamess,eyesswollenfromlackofsleep.“PeoplesayyouinnomentalstatetowinthecompetitionagainstLanatodeterminewhichonegoestoOlympics.”
“That’snonsense,”Ihuffed.Icaughtuptohissteps,buthewasmovinglikeastorm,demon-quickandaimingfordestruction.“Hunterhasnothingtodowiththecompetition.I’mready.”
ButwasIreally?IfeltlikeIwasfloatingonacloudparalleltomyownlife.Ididn’tknowwhatIwantedanymore,whatIwascapableof.
Hestoppedinfrontofhisoffice,squeezingbothmyarmsinararefatherlygesture.
“Idon’twantittobreakyou.”Heclaspedmeharder,hiseyesbeggingmeforsomethingIcouldn’tunderstand.
“Itwon’t.”Iwiggledfreeofhistouch,redangerrisingwithinme.
“You’vewaitedtoolongforthis,”hesaidslowly.“Whatifyoucollapseintherange?”
“Iwillnot.”Igrittedmyteeth,pushingthedoortohisofficeopenandwalkingin.Hefollowedme,closingthedoorbehindus.Itookaseat.Inoticedthepiggybankwasgone.MaybeHunterandLanahadtobreakittobuycondoms.He’dcertainlyrunthroughafewboxeswithme.
Aretheytogethernow?Whenitdoesn’tmatteranyway?WhenhisfatherknowsandI’moutofthepicture?Probably.
“Sowhydidyouwanttoseemeyesterday?”IslappedmythighhardtobreakmyselflooseofthememoryofLanasittingontopofHunter.ItwasallIcouldthinkabout.Icouldn’tsleep,eat,orfunction—justplaythatmomentonrepeat.
Junsupinchedhistemplefromhisspotbythedoor,thenshookhishead,realizingI’daskedhimaquestion.“What?”
Whatwaswrongwithhim?
“IaskedwhyyouwantedtoseemestraightafterIlandedyesterday.Whyyouaskedmetocometoyouroffice,”Irepeatedslowly.
“Oh.BecauseIhadtimetotrainLanathosedaysyouweregone.Sheverygood,Sailor.Iworryforyourchances.”
Ismiledtightly.Junsuhadkindofsuckedatthewhole-mentalpreparationpartrecently.ItfeltlikenoonearoundmewantedmeintheOlympics.EverybodythoughtI’dsacrificedmylifeforthecause.Thiswasthelaststraw.
“I’mgoodtoo.I’llbefine.”
“Atrialwithaselectionpanelwillbeherethedayaftertomorrow.”Hedroppedthemotherofallbombsatmyfeet,lettingitdetonateinmyface.Iknewitwasgoingtohappensometimesoon,butintwodays?
TheothertwomembersoftheOlympicteamhadwontheirspotsbasedontheirnationalrankings.LanaandIwerecompetingfortheindividualspotontheteam.Theselectionpanelwouldbethedecidingfactorbetweenus.
“Whendidyoulearnaboutthis?”Ishottomyfeet.
“Overtheweekend.”Hefingeredabowthathungonhiswall,thebowhehadusedwhenhewonthegoldmedalallthoseyearsago.
Ithoughtabouttheword.Bow.Ididn’twanttobowtoanyone.ThiswaswhyI’dmasteredtheinstrumentinthefirstplace.
“Whydidn’tyoutellme?”
“Youwerebusyinphotoshoot,”heaccused,lettingthelastwordtwistoutofhismouthlikeitwasmadeofnailsandbrokenglass.
Iwantedtoscreaminhisface,grabhisshoulders,shakehim,andthrowtheresponsibilityforthismessathisdoor.Howdarehekeepthisfromme?I’dhavestayedandpracticedmorehadIknown.
“TrynextOlympics,”Junsusaidsoftly,hisvoicebelowawhisper.Hisentirefacecrinkled,likeaballoftissueleftinsomeone’scoatpockettheentirewinter.“Fiveyears,Sailor.Youstillsoyoung.”
Oh,butmysoul,Iwantedtoreply.It’dseensomanythings.Itwassoold,sowellwornandpracticedindisappointment.
Istormedpasthim,myshoulderbrushinghisonmywayout.Iwasahuntress,madeforbig,gloriousthings.Asailorcrossingoceans,conqueringforeignseas.
IwasgoingtomeetLanaandseeourbattlethrough,evenifitbroughtmetoHades.
AndifIfailed,atleastI’dknowItried.Fought.AtleastI’dknowIwasaBrennan.Themorningbeforethedayofmyface-offwithLana,MomwokemeupthewayshehadwhenIwasakid.
Shebrushedmyhairawayfrommyface,herfingerscoldagainstmyhotcheeks
Shekissedmytemple,whisperingintomyear,“IcalledyouSailorbecauseIwantedyoutoseetheworld,tovisitcontinents,tocrossoceansandseas.Inancienttimes,sailorsusedtotattoosparrowsontheirskinbeforeleavingthedocks.Itbroughtthemluck,yousee.AndsincemynameisSparrow,Iwanttobringyouluck.Iwantyoutocarrymeeverywhereinspirit.I’llbethereforyoualways.OnlyIthinkIfailed,mybravegirl.IthinkIfailedyoumiserably.Ihopehesucceeds.Ihopeheknowsyouaresomuchmorethanbeautiful.Youarereal.”
Iblinkedawaythesleep,lettingmyeyesflutteropen.Theroomwasstilldarkandcold,foreigntomedespitethemanyyearsI’doccupiedit.Itdidn’tsmellofHunterandthefoodwe’dorderedandoursweatybodiesswallowingeachotherup.
“He?”Icroaked.
I’dgivenmyparentsdirectordersnottoletHunterin.Momstood.Ifeltthedipofthemattressrisingwithher.
“Lookatyournightstand.”Shebrushedherfingertipsagainstmyforehead,leavingmyroom.
Isatupstraight,rubbingthesleepoffofmyeyes.Sureenough,Hunter’swoodenhorsenecklacethatbroughthimluckwaswaitingformethere—thesamehorsehe’dbelievedpreventedhimfromfalling.
Arushofwarmthpassedthroughmychest.Ifnothingelse,itwasnicetoknowthatdespitesamplingbothofus,HunterhadthegoodmannerstocheeronhismainpieceandnotLana.Anotefloateddownfromthenightstand.Ipickeditup
Ifyouwantit,itisyours.
Tokeep.Touse.Toburn.
Withthis,you’llneverfall.
—Hunt
Ismiledbitterly,allowingateartoslidedownmycheek.
“Sillyboy,”Iwhispered.“Ialreadyhave.”
Thedaysafterthetabloidsexplodedwithpicturesofmehalf-naked(sixpackintact),Iskippedwork,optingtochaseafterSailortoapologizeforwhathadn’thappenedwithLana.
Imean,technically,Ididgointotheoffice,butonlyinthemiddleofthenight,andonlytogetmyhandsonalltherefinerydocumentsinSyllie’spossession.TheonlywaytoaccessthemanagementfloorwaswithCillian’sorDa’selectronicfingerprintscan.IusedagellifterIboughtfromKnoxtoduplicateDa’sfingerprints,knowingtheCCTVcamerawaswatchingmeasIbrokeintomyowncompany’soffice.ImadesureIsmiledandflippeditthebirdbeforestrollingin.ThepileofillegalthingsIwasdoinggrewbythenanosecond,butitwastoolatetochickenout.
IwantedtoexplaintoSailorthatthereasonIwasinthearcheryclubinthefirstplacehadnothingtodowithLanaWhat’s-Her-Rack.ButIknewwhatshesaw,andevenIhadtoadmit,itlookedfuckingbad.Andafterawhile,Irealizedshewasn’tgoingtolistenanyway.
Soinsteadofcrawlingonmyknees,continuingtobegfortheforgivenessIknewshewouldn’tgrant,Idecidedtogivehersomethingelse,somethingshe’dappreciatefarmore.
WhichmeanthereIwasinthearcheryclubagain,fuckinglamestalkerthatIwas.
Ihadn’tsleptawinkthepastthreenights,notsinceSailordumpedmeforgood.Ihadbeenlisteningtorecordingsuntilmyearsrang.IlookedlikeahotpileofbakedshitasIloiteredoutsidethearcheryclub,waitingforhertogetoutofpractice.
Whenshedid,Iblockedherwaylikeaderangedninja,jumpingbetweentwocars.
Forgettheknightinshiningarmor.I’mthedipshitintinfoil.
“JesusChrist!”shehissed,throwingherduffelbagatmeinstinctively.Icaughtitandtosseditaside,pullingherbythearm.
Songoftheday:“Creep”byRadiohead.
“IthoughtItoldyoutoleavemealone.”Shedrewbackintheoppositedirection,notmissingachancetotrytoscratchmewithhernails.
God,Imissedher.
“Iwill,butnotbeforeyoulistentothis.”ItookmyphoneoutofmypocketandshovedoneofmyAirPodsintomyearandtheotherintohers,scrollingmythumbonmytouchscreentofindwhatIwaslookingfor.
“Gross.Idon’tneedyourearwaxinmysystem.”
“Iputworsethingsinyou,andyoudidn’tseemallthatdisgusted.”Ibaredmyteethtauntingly.
ShewasabouttotaketheAirPodoutandthrowitinmyface,butIgrabbedherhand,kissingherpalmagain,asIdidwhenshetriedtohurtme(which,let’sadmitit,wasfrequently).
Sheshotmeanangrylookthatsaiditbetterbeworthit
Iwantedtokissherlittlefrecklednose,andIhatedmyselfforlosingtheprivilegetodosobecauseofsomestupidmisunderstanding.
“Ifoundoutwhosetusup,whomadethisshitwithLanaleak,”Isaid,takingamomenttoappreciatehowdopethehashtagwouldbe:#LanaLeak.Sailordidn’tsharemyadmirationformysuperiorwit.Sherolledhereyes,pickinguptheduffelbagI’dtossedaway,andhoistingitonhershoulder.
“Notthisagain.”
Ihitplaybeforeshecouldsayanythingelse.Therecordingstarted.JunsuandLanaweretalkingsomewhereloud.Adiner,bythesoundofcustomersandthegum-poppingwaitresswhoinsistedontoppingofftheircoffeeseveryfiveseconds.
Junsu:Idon’tknowwhatit’sgoingtotakeforSailortogiveupcompetition.Maybenotever.Shewantitbad.Itrywithhershoulderbeinginflamed,butshegotittreated,refusedtomakeitworse.
Lana:Well,youshould’vetriedharder,Junsu.That’swhatmyteampaidyoufor—tomakesurethiswouldn’tcometoapointwhereI’dhavetocompetewithher.DoyouhaveanyideahowpissedmysponsorswillbeifIdon’tmakeittotheOlympics?There’salotontheline.LastIchecked,Ipaidyouthemoneyforyourkid’scollegeinfull.
Junsu:Iknow.Ithinkingofotherpossibilitiestostopher.
Lana:Layitonme,oldman.I’mwillingtotryanythingatthispoint.I’llloseamoviedealifIdon’tgettotheOlympics.It’s,like,intheactualcontractwiththestudio,thatI’llmakeittotheOlympics.Canyoubelieveit?Peoplearetrash.
Junsu:Thereisonemoreway,Ithink.Shehasagreementwiththeboy.Thepretty,richone.Secretdeal.Thishowshegotallthesuddenpublicity.Ithinkmaybetouchingthatwillhelp.Shelivewithhimnow.
Lana:Whatrichboy?Whatagreement?Iknewit!Iknewtherewassomethingweirdgoingon.Thisbitchdidn’tpopallovermynewsfeedfornoreason.Someoneispushingher.Who’stheguy?
Junsu:Ihavethenamehere.Wait.Hehasbeencomingtoclublately.Ithinktheymaybecouple.Ithinkheis—howyousay?—herAchilles’heel.Ithinkhethekeytosortingthismess.
ThiswasthepartwhereJunsumust’vepassedhisphonetoLana.Then:
Lana:Hmm.HunterFitzpatrick.Heardabouthim.Wouldn’tmindbeinghisarmcandyforthewinter.Let’ssetthisup,Junsu.YoudothedirtyworkandmakesureIhaveaccesstohim.I’llbringthepaps.Startworkingforwhatyouwerepaidtodo.
Junsu:Okay.Justdon’thurther.Don’thurtSailor.ShecanstillhavenextOlympics.Yes?
Lana:BythenextOlympicsIwillbeagazillionaireandSailorwillbeavirginspinsterwhohasnothingbutarcheryinherlife.I’llbeoutofthegameanddeepintomyactingcareer.ShecanhavetheOlympicsthen.
IrippedtheAirPodfrommyear,killingtherecording.TherestwasmorebullshitLanaspewedaboutSailor,whichshedidn’tneedtohear.Sailor’shugejadeeyesstaredupatme,thegoldandgrayinthemglittering.Everymuscleinherbodylookedtightandstrained,andIfoundthismomenttoponderthestupidestthingintheuniverse—ifweeverhadkids,whateyecolorwouldtheyhave,betweenmydeepblueandherwildgreen?
Howaboutfocusonhernotwantingtomurderyoufirst,oldsport?
“HellifIknowhowhefoundoutabouttheagreement.”Ishookmyhead.“Butthereyouhaveit.”
“God,Hunter.Itoldhim.Aboutouragreement.About…”Shecuppedhermouth,keelinglikeshewasabouttothrowup.“Ididthis.ItoldJunsu.Andheuseditagainstme.Lanabribedhim.JesusChrist.Myowntrainer…”Shetrailedoff,straighteningherspineandpacingbackandforthintheparkinglot,pullingathershorttresses.
Itwasalottotakein.SailorandJunsuhadworkedtogetherforalongtime.Irubbedherback,surprisedthatsheletme.Thenagain,shewasinshock.Shekeptsaying,“Hebetrayedme”overandoveragain.Thenthetunechangedto,“Andyoubetrayedme,too.”
“Now,holdthatthought.”Igrabbedherbythewaistandhoistedhertositonsomerandomcar’shood.
Sheslappedmyhandsaway,scowlingatme.“IknowwhatIsaw.”
“No,youknowwhatyouthinkyousaw.Aroundthetimeyourshoulderwasinjured,IstartedsuspectingJunsu’smotives.Hisbehaviorseemedatoddswiththatofatrainerwhowantedhisathletetosucceed.IalreadyhadrecordingdevicesandSherlockHolmes’equipmentcomingoutofmyass,soIfigured—what’sanotheroffensetomylistofgrowingbreachesofprivacy?Iwasgettinggoodatplayingsuperspy.Iwiredhimupunbeknownsttohim,justforshitsandgiggles,andhavebeenlisteningtohimperiodically.Oneinthepiggybank.Theotherinawatchthat’sareplicaoftheoneheputonhisdeskforasecondtotrymyRolex.”
Hereyeswidenedinshock.“YoucametovisitJunsu?”
Inodded.“Pretendedtotakeaninterestinprivatelessons.ScaredthebejesusoutofhimwhenIsaidIwantedtolearnsoIcouldsurvivepost-apocalypse.”
Thatearnedmeafaintsmile.Toughcrowd.
Isoldieredon.“Theserecordingswon’tholdincourt,aingealdian,becausemyasshadnobusinesswiringhimup.Thedayyouso-calledcaughtLanaandmedoingit,IcameinbecauseJunsusaidhehadsomethingtoshowme.Itsoundedalotlikeathreat,andIworrieditwasaboutyou.Onlyitwasn’tJunsuwhowalkedintohisoffice.ItwasLana.Andshecaughtmemessingwithhisdrawers.Itlookedbad.Like,horrible.ShethoughtIwastryingtofindjuiceonhim—whichwastrue—andhadmebytheballs.ButIknewthewireinthepiggybankwasstillworking,soIpretendedtocooperatewithher,knowingIcouldprovetoyouthatnothinghappened.Also,shegavemetheinformationIwasafter.”
Ihittheplaybuttonagainonmyphone,thistimeonanothertrimmedsectionoftherecording.TheAirPodstillinSailor’searbegantoplay.
Lana:Busted,prettyboy.
Hunter:Youscaredthelivingshitoutofme.Iwasjustonmywayout.
Lana:Wheredoyouthinkyou’regoing?Webothknowyou’renotsupposedtobehere.
Hunter:Junsucalledme.
Lana:Togothroughhisdrawers?Idon’tthinkso.
Hunter:Andwhatbringsyouhere?Gotatasteforoldermen?
Lana:Onlyiftheyservemypurposes.
Hunter:Hey.Whatthefuckareyoudoing?
Lana:Textingmyfriendsfromthelocalnewspapersourwhereabouts.AndJunsu,too,totellyourgirltocomeoverhereandseethis.We’reabouttoraiseascandal,baby.
Hunter:WhywouldJunsuansweryourass?I’vemetbrickslesstoughthanhim.
Lana:Becausewe’reworkingtogetheronsomething—nopointinkeepingyouinthedark.You’reabouttobecomeapartofmyplan.Loseyourshirt.
Hunter:Loseyourentitled,shit-eatinggrinfirst.
Lana:Meow.Iwouldn’tcrossme,prettyboy.I’magirlonamission,andrightnow,you’reit.
Hunter:God,yousoundlikeaB-gradepornadaptationofthePowerRangers.Imean,itsoundslikesomethingI’dbeinto,butsurprisingly,it’snot.
Lana:Lose.The.Shirt.
Hunter:WhatifIsayno?
Lana:Youleavehereinhandcuffsandevenyourdaddywon’tbeabletoexplainwhatyouweredoingbreakingintoalockeddrawer.Especiallyseeingasyou’vealreadyhadabrushwiththepolicethisyear.Rapecharges,right?
Hunter:Theyweredropped.AndifIsayyes?
Lana:Sailordropsoutoftherace,andIleaveyoutopickupthepieces.AlthoughImustsay,I’mthebetteroption.
Hunter:Let’sagreetodisagree.Justsoyouknow,I’mnotgoingtofuckyou,kissyou,ortouchyou.Solet’sgetthatoutoftheway.
Lana:(laughs)I’mallsetinthatdepartment.Saveyourcharityfucksforsomeonewhoneedsthem,likeSailor.Playingpretendisenough.She’llbecomingheresoon.Losetheshirt,stud.
Istoppedtherecordingagain,raisinganeyebrow.Ifthatwasn’tsufficientproofIhadn’tbeenporkingherarchenemy,Ididn’tknowwhatwas.Problemwas,Icouldn’texactlyrelayallthisshittoheronthephoneorviatextmessages.Because,illegal.
Shechewedontheskinaroundherthumbnail,thenshookherhead,squeezinghereyesshut.
“Itdoesn’tmatter.Noneofitmatters.Anothermonthtogetherwouldn’thavedoneusanygood.Notme,anyway.Iamalreadyinl—”Shestoppedherself,breathinghard,realizingwhatshewasabouttosay.
“You’rewhat?”Ipressed.“Whatdidyouwanttosay?”
“Nevermind.Anyway,itdoesn’tmatter.Wehadamonthleft,andIdon’twantit.You’refreeofthecontract.I’msureyourfatherhasalreadytoldyouyourinheritancewon’tbeaffected.”
Myfatherdidn’ttellmeshit,actually,sinceI’dbeendodginghisandmymother’scallssincethisblewup,butwhatever.Ididn’thavetimetocorrecther.Iwantedtotellhersomanythings.Butwhenshehoppeddownfromthehoodandmadeherwaytohercar,Icouldn’tstopher.
Couldn’tstopherbecauseshewasright.Afewmoreweekswouldn’tmatter.
Rightbecausesure,Ididn’tsleepwithanyoneelse,butthathadn’tmeantIwasn’tadicktoheramillionothertimes.
Rightbecauseshehadbiggerfishtofry.NamelyJunsuandLana.
Shegotintohercar.IhadthisideatodowhatI’dthreatenedtodoallthosemonthsago,whenIfirstcameheretocornerher—standbehindhercarandstopherfromleaving.Inolongerbelievedshewouldrunmeover,butforthefirsttimeinalongtime,Ididn’twanttobeaself-servingpieceofshit.
Ifshedidn’twanttobewithme,Icouldn’tforceher.
Andthatrealizationhitmelikeaten-tonbrick.
Assoonashercarracedoutoftheparkinglot,Itookmyphoneoutandtextedher.Figuredshe’dbequicktoliftmyblockoncesheknewIhadinformationthatcouldbeusefultoherregardingLanaandJunsu.Turnedout,Iwasright.
Hunter:Afewmoreweeks.Comeon.Foroldtimes’sake.
Sailor:Sorry.Youdon’tfitintomyworldanymore.
Hunter:I’mnotafuckingloveseat,Sailor.
Hunter:Although…
Sailor:Iknow,Iknow,Icansitonyourfaceanytime.
Hunter:Dick,too.<3
Sailor:Stoptextingme.Sevenyearsago
Iracedthroughthethickofthewoods,themossandwintermudsoftbeneathmyfeet.MybootssankdeeperintothemuckwitheachstepItook,andIfoughtagainsttheweightofgravity,desperatetoflee.Footstepssplashedfastandswiftbehindme.Myheartsmashedagainstmyribcage,likeaprisonershakingthebars.Letmeout,itscreamed.
Itwasamistake—anawful,unfortunatemistake.
Thedogwasn’tsupposedtobethere.TherangehadbeencompletelyemptybeforeIdrewthearrow,blindfoldedandlaughing.
Andlaughing.
Andlaughing.
Andlaughing.
Themomentplayedinmyhead,overandoveragain.FellowstudentsaskedifIcoulddoit.IsaidIcould.IknewIcould.Someonewrappedtheirbandanaovermyeyestightly.ThentheyputhimtherewhenIcouldn’tsee.Tiedhimtothetargetusingropestheystolefromanearbyranch.Thehelplessyelpwasmyfirstclue.Thelastbreathhedrew,cryingasthearrowpinnedhimtothetarget.Thebloodacrossthebullseye.Thechunksofhisflesh.Irippedthebandanafrommyface,lettingoutascream.Alltheotherswerelaughing.
TheycalledLana.“Yourdog,”theysaid.“Shekilledhim.”
IranfasterwhenIthoughtaboutherface,hertears.Iheardthesoundofadditionalfootstepsricochetingthroughthetalltrees.Boots.Splashes.Calls.
Morepeoplewerecoming.
Mymother’svoice,shrillandpanicked,echoedmyname.“Sailor!”
Ifocusedonthehorizon,thetallpinetreesanddarkgreenwilderness.IhadthisideainmyheadthatmyparentswouldstoplovingmeiftheyknewwhatI’ddone.
Mycalvesburned,myquadsquivered,andtearsblurredmyvision.Istumbledoverathickloghiddenbyautumnleaves,flyingtotheground,headfirst.
Mudfilledmyface,andmykneeshitsomethinghard.Thehot,wetpainofadeepscrapeandfreshbloodslicedthroughmyleg.
Icoughedthedirtoutofmymouth,butitclungtomytongue.Mypalmsburnedfromtrying—andfailing—tosoftenthefall.Quickly,Igatheredmylimbs,thewayyoudoscatteredbelongings,andstooduponshakylegs.IwasabouttoturnaroundwhenIfeltthetipofanarrowpressingagainstmyspine.Thepersonbehindit,holdingthebowandarrow,corneredmeagainstanoaktree.Myfacewastothetrunk.IwassoscaredIcouldn’tbreathe.
“Hewasmyeverything,”Iheardhersay,andmyheartlurchedandtwisted,coilingintoitselfindozensofknotsthatmadeitalmostimpossibleforittobeat.LanaAlderhadasmall,jarringvoiceandafaintSwissaccent.“MyunclegavehimtomewhenImovedherefromZurich.Ididn’tknowanyone.Ididn’tspeakthelanguage.ItwasjustSpotandme.Hewasmybestfriend.Youtookawaymybestfriend.Ihavenoonenow.”
Shedugthearrowintomyback.Evenifshereleaseditfromherbow,shestillwouldn’thaveenoughmomentumtokillme.Butshecouldputmeinawheelchair.MomandDadhadmademewatchalotofdocumentariesaboutarcheryandthedangerofitbeforetheyletmepractice.
Andyouwentandletpeopleblindfoldyouandkilledadog.
Iwantedtochokeonthecold,dampmudstillinmymouth.Ittastedsalty,bitter,andashen.Itbegantorain,butthewoodsweresothickwithtrees,Ibarelyfeltitonmyskin.Thescentofpetrichorrosetomynostrils,andforthefirsttimesinceIwasborn,IwishedIweredead.
Mom’svoicecalledformeagain.Dad’s,too.
“I’msorry,”Ifinallymanagedtocroak.“I’msosorry.Ididn’tseehim.Iwasblindfolded.Ihadnoidea.Ididn’t…Icouldn’t…”
WhatmadethingsworsewasI’dheardLanahadonlyagreedtocomefromNewMexicotocampinMassachusettsifshecouldbringSpotwithher.That’showmuchshewantedhimhere.They’dhadtoissueabunchofpermitsforthemutttowalkaroundonthepremises.Iguessedwhoevertookcareofhimwasn’tpayingenoughattention.
Mybodyfeltstiff,likeasaltstatue,hardbuteasilydissolved.Iwasgoingtolurchandthrowuptheminutetheshocksubsided.Mymother’svoicegrewnear.Iknewshe’dfindme.Wehadthisthingbetweenus—onenotallchildrenhadwiththeirparents.Itwasaconnectionthatfeltlikeapartofmewasstillinherwomb.Wecouldsenseeachotherfrommilesaway.EverytimeMomandIhugged,wecalleditrecharging.WeplasteredourstomachstogetherinbedandsaidBzzzzthewaythephonedidwhenyoupluggeditin.Thenshe’dtellmeshewassogladIwasherfamily,whichwasabeautifulthingtosay,becauseitmademefeellikeshewouldhavechosenmeevenifIweren’thers.
Lanadidn’thaveachoice.
Shedidn’thaveamother,either.Herparentshaddiedinacaraccident,andheronlyrelativeintheworldhadagreedtotakeherreluctantly,becauseshecamewithahealthysumofmoneyandassets.
Lanalivedwithheruncleandhismuchyoungergirlfriend,theoneDadsaidhadenoughplasticsurgeryforthreedesperatehousewivesofOrangeCounty.
Tearsbegantoleakfrommyeyes.Inevercried.
“Ihateyou,”Lanawhisperedsoftlyintomyear.“Ihateyou,SailorBrennan.Idon’tevenlikearcheryallthatmuch.IcameherebecausemyunclewantedtotakeMissDeidreonavacationintheCookIslandsandthoughtitwouldbeagoodopportunitytothrowmesomewherewhereotherpeoplecouldwatchoverme.ButIpromiseyou,nowIwillmakeitmymissiontotakewhatisyours.”
Ithoughtaboutallthetimesshe’dcalledmeuglythisweekend,saidmyfaceputherinabadmood.AndIrealizedshedidn’tthinkitwasanaccident.Nothingcouldmakeherbelieveitwas.ShethoughtI’ddeliberatelytakenawaythethingclosesttoherheartasapartofagame,andnowIhadtopay.
“Youwanttobeanarcher?Iwillbecomeabetterone.Yougetapet?I’llkillit.Aboyfriend?Iwillstealhim.Whateveryouacquireinlife,Sailor,Iwilltakeitfromyou.Becauseyoutooksomethingfromme.”
Thearrowdugdeeperintomyback.Itriedtotwistandturntogetawayfromthepain,butitfollowedmeeverywhere.Shepressedharder.
“Stop,”Icroaked.“Please.I’msorry.Itwasanaccident.You’rehurtingme.”
Lanadidn’tdeter.Ifeltthearrowpiercingmyskin,reachingmybone.Ihatedbegging,hatedloweringmyselftoaskingformercy.Withayelp,Iturnedaroundandpushedherwithallmystrength.Iletoutaferalgrowlthatfeltlikeitwasn’tevencomingfromme.Sheflewback,collapsingtothemud.Irantowardher,realizingI’dpushedherbythearrow.
Icroucheddown.“Lana?OhmyGod.Areyouokay?”
WhathaveIdonenow?
Shelayonthebedofyellowandorangeleaves,blinkinglethargicallyattherainingsky—thewayI’dseenthatboyfromthecastledoallthoseyearsago—defyingtherain,andthehail,andthewind.Standinguptothedarkness.
ThearrowwasstuckinLana’sstomach.Aredstainbegantoformarounditthroughherfleecejacket.
No.No.No.
“Never…forgive…you.”
Thosewereherlastwordsbeforemyparentsfoundus.
Beforeshewasrushedtothehospital.
BeforeDadmadetheentirethinggoaway,makingsurenooneknewwhathappened—aboutdeadSpot,abouthowLanasufferedabowelinjurycalledperitonitis,wheresomeofthecontentsofherintestinesspilledintoherstomachandcausedaninfectionshesufferedfromforweeks.Shewasbedridden,aloneinthehospital,withheruncleonlyreturningafterhe’dfinishedhisvacation,duringwhichhe’dmarriedhisgirlfriend.
IknewLanawouldmakegoodonherpromisetogetbackatme.
Ineveradoptedanypets.
Neverhadthecouragetofallinloveandgetattachedtoboys.
AndIbidedmytimeuntilIknewIcouldwin.
ThedayofmymatchwithLana,Icametotherangeanhourearly,knowingshe’dbepracticing.Iwasright.Ilurkedundertheroofedstands,watchingherdrawanarrowandsenditspiralingtotheinnerredmarkofthetarget.Acleankill.Lanawasgood,atleastinalltheplacesshewasn’tbad.
ThefourjudgesfromtheOlympiccommitteehadalreadyenteredtheclub.Junsuandthestaffweretalkingtothemupstairs.Theirbagswereatthereceptionarea.BeforeIwenttotherange,IaskedBillifhecouldgooutsideandseeiftherewereanyphotographers.IpromisedI’dkeepaneyeonthebags.Heagreed.Assoonashewasoutofsight,IplantedwhatIneededineachofthejudges’suitcases.Whenhecameback,Ipressedawetkisstohischeek.
“Thankyouforbeingagreatfriend.”
“Surething.ThankyouforbeingtheleastscarywarriorI’veevermet.”
Ismiled.Iknewitwasgoodbye.
Hedidn’t.
I’dspentthenighttryingtofigureouthowIwasgoingtousetheinformationHunterhadgivenmeaboutJunsuandLanainawaythatwouldn’tframehim,andIhadn’tsleptawink.
Attherange,ImademywaystraighttoLana’starget.Thegroundwassoftbeneathmyfeet,butIknewbetterthantothinkthefallwouldbeanythingshortofpainful.
Istoppedwhenmybackwaspressedagainstthetarget,standinginfrontofLana,daringhertodraw.Wewerealoneouthere.Shecould,ifshewantedto.
Lanaloweredherbow,hereyesnarrowingintosuspiciousslits.
Wordlessly,Ithrewsomethingbetweenus.Asimplebandana,offeringherarematch.
Asmiletuggedoverherlips.Thetauntingkind.
“SosorryIhadtosampleyourboyfriend.NotknowingwhathetastedlikewasamysteryIcouldn’tbear,”shepurredsweetly.
EventhoughIbelievedHunter,herwordsstillhitmesomewheredeep.Iwantedtopounceonherandtearherlimbsforevenutteringhisname.Hewasmine,evenwhenhewasn’t.
Ismiledbackather.Ihadaplan.“Takethebandana.”
“Icankillyou,evenblindfolded.”
“Pleasedo.Washegood?”Iasked,watchingasshemadeherwaytothebandanainthemiddleofthespacebetweenus.
“Soyoudon’tknow?Youtwohaven’tspoken?”
Ishookmyhead.Shethoughthe’dkepthersecret.
“Hewasgreat.”Sheflippedhershinyhairtooneshoulder,stillwalking.“ImightseehimtodayfordinnerafterI’mdonewhoopingyourass.We’llsee.ThePatriots’quarterbackalsowantsadate.It’shardbeingme.”
“Icanimagine,”Isaid.
Shepickedupthebandana,wentbacktoherspot,andtieditoverhereyes.Raisingherbow,sheaimedatme.Myheartwasinmythroat.Iwantedtomoveaway,topunchmyownfaceforwhatI’dgottenmyselfinto.Lana’shandsweresteady,butherchestroseandfellquickly.
“Youidiot.YouknowI’lldoit,”shemuttered,seeingnothingbehindtheblindfold.
“Thendo.”Iswallowed.“KillmelikeIkilledSpot.”
“Don’tsayhisname,”shewarned.“Don’tyoudare.”
“Itwasanaccident,”Irepeated.“AterribleaccidentI’veregrettedeverymomentsincethatday.”
“Iknow!”shesnapped,loweringherbowmomentarily,stomping.“Itwasn’tjustaboutSpot,youidiot.Itwasabouteverything.Youhadparentsandafamilyandtalentandsecurity.Andyouwereeasyprey.Soinsecureandapologeticand…and…”Shewavedherhandinmydirection.“You.”
Sheraisedherbowagain,huffing,“Nowstandstill.”
Idid.Sweatdrippeddownmyspineundermysweater,andIfeltmylegsshaking.Iwantedtothrowup.Shedrewthearrowagain.Itookadeepbreathandclosedmyeyes.
Doit.Getitoutofyoursystembeforeitismyturntohurtyouback.
“Dropoutofthematch,andIwon’tkillyou,”camehervoice.
Myeyespoppedopen.
“That’sabigrequest,”Isaidhoarsely.
“Youaremytarget,”shepointedout.
“BecauseIputmyselfherewillingly,”Iargued.“WillallbeforgivenandforgottenifIstepdownanddon’tshowupinhalfanhour?”
Shedidn’tknowIwaswiredundermysweater.
Thatshewasbeingrecorded.
“Yes,”shesaidgrimly.“Butyouneedtotellthemnow.”
“Okay,”Iwhispered.
“Okay.”Sheloweredherbowagain,removingtheblindfoldanddiscardingitontheground.Hereyes,deadandflat,scannedme.
“Justsoyouknow…”Herthroatyvoicewrappedaroundmyneck.“Hunterwaseverythingthemediasaidhewas,andmore.Ihadalotoffunstealingyourboyfriend.Iwishwecouldcontinuethis.I’dhavelovedtotortureyouforalifetime.”
Isteppedaway,knowingnowhowdeepanddelusionalherliewas.“Iknow.”
IturnedaroundtofindJunsuintheshadows,undertheroofedseats,scowling.Ibrushedpasthim,notstoppingwhenhewhisperedmyname.
Heusedtoshoutitbefore.Now,hewasscared.
Heknew.
Junsuwasatmyheels.NowthatI’ddecidednottocompete,hepretendedtobeinvested.Devastated,even.Hespoke,butnoneofthethingshesaidregistered.Iunlockedmycar,stuffingmybagintothepassengerseat.
JunsugrabbedmyshoulderandspunmesoIfacedhim,hisexpressionetchedwithfury.
“Whatwasthat?”hedemanded.
“I’mguessingthat’sarhetoricalquestion.”Ibrushedoffhistouch.
Thatwasit.I’dlost.MyOlympicdreamofficiallywentdownthedrain.Hell,I’dflusheditmyself.Somewhereinthebackofmyhead,panichadbeguntosetin.IknewitwasthelasttimeI’dsetfootinthisclub.Aftereverythingthathappened—everythingthatwasabouttohappen—Icouldn’tcomebackandpracticehere.Notprofessionally,andnotasahobby.IimaginedI’dfindanewplace,ormaybegotothewoodsortothefarmhousemyparentshadoutsideofBoston.Iwouldstillpractice,butnotprofessionally.
ItwastimetofindoutwhoIwas.
WhatIwasgoodat,whatIstoodfor.
Itwastimetogetoutofmyshellandlive.Andit’sfrightening.
“Youdidn’teventry.Youquit.”Hemotionedhisarmtowardtheclub.
“So?”Ishrugged.“Mycareer.Mydream.Myprerogative.”
“Myreputation,”hecountered,shovingafingertohischest.“Youcouldlosebyfewpoints.NowIlookincompetent.”
“Ah.”Ismiled.“Cat’soutofthebagnow.Soyoudidwantmetolose,justnotbymuch.”
Junsu’sfacefell.“What?No!I…”
Ileanedforward,brushingmylipoverhisnosepurposefully.Ifeltgoosebumpsriseonhisskin.We’dneverbeenthisclosephysically.“Iknowwhatyoudid,Junsu.YouandLana.Iknowaboutyourdeal.LanacamecleantoHunterwhenshetriedtoseducehiminyouroffice.Youdidthistoyourself.NowIhaveawitness,andathree-pageletterIleftwitheachofthefourjudgesonthecommittee.They’regoingtofindthemshortly,iftheyhaven’talready.AnidenticalletterwassenttotheUnitedStates’OlympicandParalympicCommittees.Now,ifyou’llexcuseme,I’monmywaytothepolicestation.HunterFitzpatrick,AKAtheboy,alreadygavethemhisofficialstatement,aspermyrequest.”
Ibowed,thewayhe’dtaughtmewhenhestartedtrainingme,mockingthesignofrespecthe’dinsistedwegiveeachother.
“No!”Junsubarkeddesperately,tuggingatmyhand.
Ilungedintothedriver’sseat,lockingthedoorsautomaticallybeforehegottome.Hepoundedhispalmsoverthewindow,hisvoicemuffledbytheglassbetweenus.
“Shehadmoney!Ineededtopayformyson’scollege.”
Istartedthecar,feelingtearsstingingmyeyes.Ididn’tdareletthemloose.
“Sailor!Youruinmycareerifyoudothat!Myfamily!Myreputation!”
Ibackedoutoftheparkinglot,blazingdownthestreetI’ddriveneveryday.Itheldmemories,apieceofmyheart,andabrokendreamInowleftbehind.
IknewIwouldn’tbeabletosetfootonitafterwards.
Bynighttime,thedetailsaboutJunsuandLanawereplasteredalloverthenews.IgotcallsaskingifIwantedtoretakeamatchwithsomeoneelse,consideringLanawasnotgoinganywhereneartheOlympicsanytimesoonafterwhatshe’ddone.Ideclined.TheOlympicspotwenttoathirty-three-year-oldmotheroffourfromruralIndianabydefault.Herstatswerecrazy.
Mom,Dad,andSamgatheredinthelivingroomaroundmewhilewewatchedherinterview.Theirhandswereonmyback,shoulders,andarms.
Iwassafewithmyfamily.Iwashome.Itoccurredtome,asIsteppedintomyfather’sofficeforthefirsttimeinfourdays,thatIwasabouttogetmyassfuckedsohard,I’dbeabletoeasilyslideanentirewatermelonintoitbythetimehewasdonewithme.
Fourdays.
Zerosleep.
Zeroworktime.
Twounwrittencollegeassignments.
Plentyofhalf-leadsregardingSyllie’swrongdoings.
Victorywaswithinreach.Icouldbrushitwithmyfingertips,andIwasrabidforit.MaybethebloodthirstyFitzpatricklineagedidrunthroughme.BecauseI’dneverfeltparticularlycompetitiveuntilImovedhere.
Thevisittotherefinerywasscheduledfortomorrow,andguesswho’dfinallydecidedtoshowsignsoflifeandreappearattheoffice?
Ding,ding,motherfuckingding.Yourstruly.
“You’realive,”myfatherpointedoutratherunhappily,stillreadingsomethingonhisiPadathisdesk,hiseyebrowssomewhereonhisupperforehead.
Cilliansprawledinfrontofhiminhisdesignatedseat,texting.
“Don’tsoundsodisappointed.”Isteppedinside,plantingmyassontheseatnexttoCillian.
Iturnedtomybrother.“Leave.”
Hismolteneyesshotupfromhisphone.Hehadthechallenging,tauntinggazeofamanwhowaswaitingtobeinvitedtowar.
“Areyouhigh?”heinquiredpolitely.
“Soberasamiserable,bloatedcelebritypost-rehab.IneedtotalktoDa.Alone.”
Theyexchangedalookthatspokedozensofsentences.Finally,Geraldnodded.Mybrotherstood,butnotbeforeflashingmeawarninglookthatsaidafterDaplowedintomyass,heintendedtoshoveexplosivesintoit.
Thedoorclosed,andIturnedtomyfather.
“IhavesomegreatleadsaboutwhatSylvesterisupto,”Istarted,buthecutmeoffwithawaveofahand,sendingtheiPadcrashingagainsthisdesk.
“YougoMIAforfourdaysafteryouragreementwiththeBrennangirlgoesbust,andyouthinkIcareaboutyourconspiracytheories?”
“Ithinkyoucareaboutthiscompany,”Ienunciatedthroughgrittedteeth.“AndIhaveinformation.”
“Stopbeingaprofessionaltimewaster,”Dacountered.“Andgettotheheartofit.Youareherebecauseyoumessedupanddidn’thavethegutstofacethemusic.Youbroketherules.Youweren’tcelibate.”
“No,”Iadmitted.“Iwasn’t,butIdidn’tsleepwiththatotherchick,Lana.AndthatthingwithSailor…”Ipaused,feelingmynostrilsflare.“Itwasn’tjustfucking.”
Iwantedtotakebackthesentence,takeitallthewayback.WhatwasIsaying?Ididn’thavefeelingsforCarrotTop,didI?Onlyshehadn’tbeenCarrotTopforalong-asstime.ShewasthegirlIwantedtotalktoeveryday,allday,ifIcould.Thegirlwhomademelaugh.Thegirlwhogavemeahard-on,notonlyupclose,butjustthinkingabouther.Thetracesofherscentalonemademewanttohumptheshowertiles.
IhatedthatIcaredaboutSailorBrennan,thatIcouldn’tstopthinkingabouther,worryingabouther,obsessingoverwhatshewasdoing,thinking,DoorDashing.Thelittlehuntresshadgoneandconqueredeveryinchofmybrain,fillingitwithherself,andwithoutmynotice—withoutmyfuckingpermission—slippedfrommybraintomyheart.
“Don’ttrytosellmethegirlfriendangle.”Daraisedhishandtocutmeoff.“Iwasn’tbornyesterday.”
“Ididn’tsayshewasmygirlfriend.ButIfeel…things,”Isaidvaguely.Ialsosaidthewordthingslikeitwasmadeoutofpubehair,spittingitoutofmymouthinrecordtime.
“Was?”Athairregardedmeskeptically.
“Shedumpedme,”Iadmitted.
“Idon’tbelievethatforasecond.”
“Idon’tgiveaflyingfuckwhatyoubelieve.”Ismiledcourteously,crossingmylegsandcuppingmyhandsoveroneknee.“Itisthetruth,andyoudon’tgettodismissit.Iguessthisisthepartyou’vebeenwaitingfor,whereyouwaveyournewsignedwillinmyface.Goahead.Haveyourfun.”
Notmissingagoldenopportunitytoshedblood,heopenedhisdrawerandproducedthatgoddamnwill,makingashowofflippingthepagesbylickingthepadofhisindex(sidenote:peoplewhodothatshouldburninhell.Twice),signinghisinitialsoneachpagequickly.
Lookingup,heflashedmeagrin.
Songoftheday:“DeadBodiesEverywhere”byKorn.
“Idohaveapropositionforyou,”hesaidwhilesigning.
“Ilovepropositions,”Ireplied,oddlycalm.“That’swhatgotmeintothismessinthefirstplace.Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”
“Yousayyoudevelopedfeelingsforthatgirl—”Heair-quotedthewordfeelings,aParkerJotterpenbetweenhisfingers.
Iwantedtoputhiminabox.It’dbeworththesolitaryconfinement.
“Sailor,”Icuthimoff.“Hernameisnot‘thatgirl’.It’sSailor.”
“Yes.Her.AndIsaythisisjustadesperatepleatotrytosaveyourinheritance.Sohowaboutthis?I’mgivingyouasecondchance.Acleanslate.Aredemption,ifyouwill.Admitthatthiswasalie,thatyoudidn’tactuallydevelopfeelingstowardSailor,andIwilltearthiswillapartrightnow.Butthereisacondition.”
“What’sthecondition?”Iasked,unblinking.
“Youcutallcontactwithher.Forever.”
Thelastwordsatbetweenuslikeatickingbomb.Foreverwasalong-asstime.Anhour?Thatsoundedmoredoable.
“Genesaside,we’recutfromthesamecloth,aren’twe,ceannbeag?”Hecockedhishead.“Thisiswhatyou’vebeentryingtoprovetome.Thatyou’reaFitzpatrick.Thatyoubelong.”
“Ifyou’reaskingmetochoosebetweenmyfamilyfortuneandagirl,myanswerisobvious—thefortune.”Ipaused,watchinghisthroatworkingbehindhissilkyorangetie.“Butifyou’reaskingmetochoosebetweenthefamilyfortuneandSailorBrennan,I’mgoingtohavetokissyourmoneygoodbyeandbowoutofthisone,Fitzpatrickornot.”
Hissmileevaporated.Hewasn’texpectingthatplottwist.Honestly,Iwasn’t,either.EspeciallyconsideringSailorhadconveyedtomeherlackofwantingtostayintouchverbally,bytext,physically,andeveryotherwayshortofskywriting.Maybeshehadtoldmetopissoffthroughskywriting.Ihadn’tlookedattheskyinawhile.
Nevertheless,itwasthetruth.Icouldn’tresistthechancetopursueher.Icouldn’tforfeittherighttohugher,orderDoorDashfoodwithher,argueaboutwhowasabettertipper,andtellheraboutmyday.Becausethosewerethehappiestmomentsofmylife,andeverysinglegoddamntimeIreachedformyDalahorseandmyneckwasbare,Iknewshehadit—myonepossessionthatmeantsomething.
Ifshehasn’tburneditbynow,thatis.
“You’rerejectingmyoffer?”Dasobered,smoothinghistie.
“Trustme,we’rebothbummedaboutit.SoIguessthatmeansI’mfired?”Istood.
IstillneededtofinishmySylvesterinvestigation,nomatterwhat.Inolongerstoppedmidwaywhenshitbecamehard.
“You’renotcomingtoMaine,”heconfirmed.“Startlookingforajob.”
“Bet.”Igavehimalittlebowandflippedhimthebirdforgoodmeasure.AsIsteppedout,Igrabbedthechromehandleoftheglassdoorandturnedaroundtohimwithmypartingwords.“Bytheway,thisdoor?Designedbyamasochist.Ittakesthreehourstocloseit.Here,thatshouldfixit.”Ikickedthedoor’scylinder.Unhinged,itflewintoDa’sofficeandcrashedonthefloorinonepiece.
Ilookedupathim,flashinganunhingedsmilefromthesupervillainvariety.“MaybeIamaFitzpatrickafterall.LookhowgoodIamatruiningthings.You’rewelcome.”
Thatevening,IsatmyassdowntolistentohowSyllie’snightwasgoing.Theanswerwasboundtobebetterthanmine.ItriedtoDoorDashtheCypriotplacethathadopenedthreeblocksfrommyapartment,butfoundoutmybankaccounthadbeencleanedbyDaddyDearest—allfutureandcurrenttransactionsdeclined.
TheoldHunter—theonefromsixmonthsago—would’vecalledthemomheghostednot-so-friendlyandhadherVenmothenecessaryfundstofeedAfrica.ButthenewHunterwastoopridefultobeg,letaloneforfood.SoIcrackedopenacanofbeans,triedtomicrowaveit,almostcausedanexplosion(whoknewmetalwasn’tmicrowave-safe?Notthisfucker),andsettledforcrackersandexpiredcreamcheese.
Iwaslegitthebitch-eating-crackers-like-he-owns-the-placememe.FMLintheass.
IwaswonderinghowIwasgoingtocontinuepayingKnox,whowasliterallysittinginavan,freezinghisballsoff,torecordSyllielivethroughthedeviceshe’dsoldme.Ihopedheacceptedsexualfavors,becausehomeboywascurrentlymorebrokethanJennaJamesonhadsheswitchedcareerstocelibacyexpert.Iwasfuckedinthemostunorgasmicwayknowntoman.
Iwasthreehoursintotheevening’sinvestigationonSyllie—he’djustfinishedhavingdinnerwithhisfamily,duringwhichheandhiswifehaddiscussedtherivetingsubjectofmatchingChristmassweaters—whenIheardthethreeknocksonmydoor.
Iputmycrackersdown,frowning.IfitwasCillianwithoneofhisdevil’speptalks,weweregoingtoexchangesomefists,notwords.Butno.Cillianshould’vebeenonaplaneonhiswaytoMainebynow.Iwenttothedoor,throwingitopen.
Andthereshestood.
Aingealdian.
Holdingabagoftakeoutfood.Greasetrickledfromtheedgesofthebrownbag.Sailorandjunkfood.Mymouthwatered,andmyballstightened.
AmIdead?Isthisheaven?
“Thisisnotalet’s-have-sexoffering,Hunt.It’snotevenapeaceoffering.”Sheraisedonepalminwarning.“ButIcomebearinggiftsandanoffer.YouhelpedmenailLana.LetmehelpyounailSyllie.”
Iclosedmyeyesandbreatheddeeplythroughmynose.
“Canyousaynailagain,please?Specifically,nailme,Hunter.Youpracticallyalreadysaidallthewords,justnotinsequence.”
SheburstoutlaughingasIhookedafingerintoherjacketandpulledherin,notgivingafuckaboutbeingbrokeandunemployedandneck-deepintrouble.
“What’dyouget?”Ithrewmyarmoverhershoulder,kissingthecrownofherheadaswewalkedtowardthelivingroom.Andjustlikethat,itfeltlikeshewasnevergone.Justanotherblissfulnightwithmygirl.
“Ithoughtwe’dtrythenewCypriotplace.Itgotradreviews.”
Ibitmyfistagain.I’dmadetherightchoice.
Fuckthemoney.
Iknew,inasubconsciousway,thattheonlyshotIhadatcatchingSylliewasifhemadeamistake.ButSylliewasacarefulbastard,sowhenIfoundoutI’dbeentheonetothrowhimoff-kilter,Inearlyjizzedmypants.
ItwasrightafterSailorandIpolishedoffoursouvlakiandhalloumicheesewraps.WelistenedtohimashegotthecallinwhichhewasinformedthatIhadn’tboardedthecommercialplanetoMainewithmyfatherandbrother.
“Whatdoyoumeanheisnotontheplane?”heseethedtothepersonontheotherline.Icouldn’tlistentowhattheotherpartywassaying.Sylvesterhadusedanotherburnerphone.“Howcouldhenotbeontheplane?”
SailorandIexchangedglances,ourbackshunchedoverthelaptop,listeningtotheliverecording.
“Thewholeplanispointlesswithouthimthere!No,don’ttellmetocalmdown.Monthsofplanning,alldownthedrain.Youmightaswellcanceltheentireoperationifhe’snotthere.Theidiotwilltakeoveroncethey’redoneanddealtwith,andmytroubleswilltriple.”
“Doneanddealtwith?”Sailorwhisper-shouted,hereyeswidening.“Didhejustsaythat?”
Afewthingshappenedinthatmoment.MaybebecauseSailorlookedatmelikeIwasanintelligent,capablehumanbeingandnotamoneyedgigolo.ShelookedatmelikeIcouldcrackthisriddle.
AndIrealized…well,thatIcould.
Ididaquickmath:
Sylliesentmyfatherandbrothertoarefinerythat’dbeendealingwithhealthandsafetyissues.
Themachinerywasfaulty.Threeofthem,atleast.That’swhywewerescheduledtovisitthereinthefirstplace.
Sylliecouldandprobablyplannedtostageanaccidentinwhichallthreeofus—Da,CillianandI—woulddie.Allheneededwasoneorchestratedexplosion.MomandAisling,whilethey’dinheritthemajorityofshares,wouldn’trunthecompanyinamillionyears.WhichputthepositioninSyllie’scapablehands.
Holyshit.Hewantedtokillus.AndI’djustfuckeduphisplanbigtime.Nowthequestionwas—wouldhegothroughwithitstill,orwashepostponingbecausemyasswasn’tenroutetoMaine?
Sailorseemedtoreadmymind,shovingmyphoneintomyhand.“Youhavetocallthem.”
IcalledCillianfivetimes.Itriedanotherthreetimestoreachmyfather.Ialsotextedthemathousandtimes.Theywereeitherontheplaneorsomewherewithzeroreception.IrememberedCilliancomplainingaboutthelackofreceptioninthatpartofMaine.IwassureSyllietookthisintoconsiderationwhenhe’dplannedallthis.
“WhatdoIdonow?”Istood,pacingbackandforth.“WhatdoIdotosavemyassholefamily?”
“Now,”Sailorsaidsimply,“youdowhatFitzpatricksdobest:yougotowar,andyouwin.”IborrowedSailor’scar,droveherbacktoherparents’house(Ididn’ttakeanychancesincaseSylliehadhiredmuscletocometomyapartmentandfinishmeoff),thendrovestraighttohishouse,hopinghewasstillthere.IwasgladforKnox’sinvestigativeskills.HeknewwhereSyllielived,workedout,tookshits,andallhisfavoritecallgirls.
Theentiredrivethere,ItriedcallingDaandCillian.Finally,IcalledMomandtoldhertotrytoreachthemandnotstopuntilshefoundthemandtoldthemnottogototherefinery.
“Butwhy?”sheaskedforthemillionthtime.
“Becausefuckingstopaskingquestions,Mom.Justdoit!”
IparkedinfrontofSyllie’splaceinCharlestown,aten-bedroomJacobian-stylemansion,starkwhiteoverblackwindows,withalushfrontyardIcurrentlywantedtosetonfire.Islammedthedriver’sdoorshutandtrompedmywaytotheentrance,bangingonthedoor,thenpunchingthebellfivetimesforgoodmeasure.Itwaswaypastvisitinghours,butifIwasn’tgoingtogetsomesleeptonight,fuckifanyoneinhisfamilywould.
Syllieopenedthedoorwithascowl,wearingapurpleburgundyhouserobe.IswearmylibidobledtodeaththesecondIsawhim.
Hisfaceturnedfromdeadlytopleasantinaninstant.
“Hunter,whatalovelysurprise.IthoughtyouweresupposedtobeonyourwaytoMaine?”heaskedinnocently.
“God,terribleacting.I’mtalkingHarrisonFordinTheFriscoKid.Justterrible.Weneedtotalk.”
“Somethinghappened?”Hegrimaced.
Iwantedtopunchhisteethin.Ismiledinstead.I’daskedAislingtoworkonMomandconvincehertogivemetheprivateplanetogettoMaine—notthatmymotherwouldn’tgivemealimbifIaskedforit,butIdidn’twanttotalktoherifIcouldhelpit.
“Justplayingcatch-up.”Ishrugged.
“Atmidnight?”Hiseyesnearlybulged.
Iinclinedmyhead,buyingtime.“WhatcanIsay?Imissedyouso.”
Heinvitedmein,hesitantly,andmotionedformetofollowhimtohisofficeonthethirdfloor.Heopenedthedoortothebalconyafterpouringustwotimbersofwhiskey.IknewbetterthantoputmylipstoanydrinkSylliegaveme,butswirledthegoldenliquidinitstumblerforshow.
“Iknowaboutyourplan.”Iletthedrinksloshovertherim.“AndIknowwho’shelpingyouexecuteit.”
Thatpartwasalie,butiftherewasonethingIwasgoodat,itwashavingapokerface.Ithadsavedmyasscountlesstimes.
“OfcourseIstudiedforthetest.”
“Ofcourseyou’retheonlygirlIthoughtaboutthisweek.”
“OfcourseI’mnottoointoxicatedtooperatethisheavymachinery.”
“Ihavenoideawhatyoumean.”Heleanedonthebannister,takingasipofhisdrink.Itwasthelittlethingsthatgavehimaway:thebeadsofsweatgatheringathistemples,thewayhislipstwitched,howdeeplyheleanedagainstahighbalcony.Hewasnervous.
Ileanedagainstthedoorframe,farfromthebannister,studyinghim.“Ihopeyouhaveabetterlineofdefensewhenyougetarrested,Mr.Lewis.Becausetryingtoblowuparefinerywithdozensofpeopleinside,includingthethreemajorshareholdersofRoyalPipelines,isnokiddiegame.”
Noneofthosethingswereconfirmed,buthisfacetwistedinhorrorasthewordsleftmymouth,andIknewIwasspot-on.Hequicklyrearrangedhisfeatures,placinghistimberofwhiskeyonthemarblerailing.
“Whofedyouthisnonsense,Sonny-boy?”
“Yourpartnerincrime,”Ireplied.Anotherlie.
“Ihavenosuchthing.”
“WouldyoucontinuesingingthistuneifItoldyoueverysingletimeyouusedburnerphonestocallhim,herecordedbothofyou?”Iquirkedaneyebrow.
Lies,lies,lies.
Hisfacefell.
HethoughtIhadsomethingIwasn’tinpossessionof.
“Borisshouldknowbetter,”hegrittedout.
Boris,huh?IwassureSailor’sdadknewwhohewas,andmadeamentalnotetocheck.
Sylliecontinued,“Butyouhaveonethingwrong.Iknewyouweren’tgoingtobethere.Ineverwishedyouharm.”
“Pleasedon’ttakeoffensewhenIcallallthebullshitsintheworldonthat.”
Heshookhishead,rushingtome.Iraisedahand,motioningforhimtostopwherehewas.Hedid.
“Look,Iknewthisthingwithyourfatherandbrotherwasgoingtoblowupsoonerorlater.Iknewyouwouldn’taccompanythemtoMaine.Andyoudidn’t.Thetruthis,Sonny-boy,Iwouldneverwishyouharmbecause…”
God,notthis.
“BecauseI’myourfather.”Histhroatworkedaroundtheadmission,thewordsspillingoutbetweenus,toxic.
“MyfatherissomeEasternEuropeanunderwearmodel,”Icountered.
“That’swhatGeraldtoldeveryonesohecouldkeepmeonhispayroll,becauseheknewIwastooimportanttoletgoof.Andit’swhatyourmotherunfortunatelywentalongwithtokeepthepeaceintheFitzpatrickhousehold.Butthinkaboutit,Sonny-boy.Whotookcareofyouovertheyears?Whodidyourushtowhenyouneededhelp?Whocleanedupthemessforyou?Me.Alwaysme.Iwaspracticallyafathertoyouwithoutbeingafathertoyou.Itookcareofyou.Andnow,I’mtellingyou,thisisthebeginningofanewera.Wecantakethiscompanyandrunittogether.Wecandogreatthings.Beateam.Theywillneverrespectyou,Hunter.Youarenotablue-bloodedFitzpatrick,atrueheir.YourfatherputCillianonthepedestal,andyouwillneverreachhislevel—notbecauseyou’renotasgood,butbecauseGeraldwouldneverallowit.Youarelookeddownupon.Theyarenotyourfamily.”
Hetookanotherstep,andIlethim.Heputhishandonmyshoulder.Ilethimdothat,too.
“Thrownaroundfromoneprivateschooltotheother,thenexiledtoyouruncleandauntontheWestCoast—youneverstoodachance.Itriedtellingyourfather,Hunter.Ibegged…”
Hetookaraggedbreath,lookingawayfrommeandshakinghishead,likeitallpainedhimtoomuch.“Look,IknowIhaven’tbeenthebestfathertoyousofarbynotcomingcleanaboutthis.Ihadmyownfamilytothinkof.Ihavethreedaughters.ButIpromise,fromnowon,I’llbethere.”
“Willyoutakemetosoftballgames?”Icroaked,myvoiceroughwithemotion.
Hepaused,regardingmewithwariness,beforeagreeing.“Yes,Sonny-boy.Yes,Iwill,ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
“Andwillwehavefamilydinners?”Icontinued.
“Ofcourse.”Hiseyeswidened,andheembracedmeinahalf-hug,relieved.“Ofcourse.Weekly.I’lltellDianneyouarealwayswelcome.”
Diannewashiswife.ThenextpartIsaidafterpretendingtowipeanimaginarytearfromthecornerofmyeye.“Andwillyouteachmeaboutthebirdsandthebees?Iheardrumors,Daddy,butreally,doboysdothattogirls?Itsoundsso…painful.”
Hedisconnectedfromme,examiningmyface.
Istartedlaughing.“Damn.”Ipushedhimaway.“Getthefuckout.I’mnotyourson.Imaybedumbandpretty,butforfuck’ssake,Iampretty.YoulooklikeGargamel.”
AsIsaidthat,IrealizedI’dstoppedbelievingit.Well,someofit.Iwasn’tstupid.Iwasn’tadumbass.Iwasjustanassholewithnoonetoholdhimaccountableforanything.Untilnow.
“Youlittlepieceof—”
ThefrontdoorthreefloorsunderuswaskickedopenbeforeSylliefinishedhisthought.Shoutsof“FBI”rangfromthefirstfloor.
Isighedathimexaggeratedly,liftingmytimberofwhiskeyandusingmyhandtopryhisjawopenbysqueezinghischeeks.Ipouredthecontentsofmyglassintohismouth.
“Here.I’veafeelingyou’llneedsomeliquidcourageforthisnextpart.”
IknewthepolicehadbeensenttotheLewisresidence.ThattypeofcourtesyIexpected,seeingasI’dcalledthemwithmystory,buthadnohardprooftogivethem.ThefactthattheFBIwasheremademethinksomeoneelsewasinvolved.
TroyBrennan,tobeexact.Sailorhadaskedhimforhelp,knowingImightnotbeabletopullitoffmyself.She’daskedherfatherforhelp,eventhoughshehatedeverythinghedidandrepresented.Forme.
Syllie’sfacecontortedinfury.“They’redeadmenwalking.There’snowayyoucanreachthem,youlittleidiot.Theydon’thaveanyreceptionwheretheyare.”
“Whydidyoudothis?”Iasked.
Footfallsracedupthestairs.Dozensofthem,itsoundedlike.Itwashappening.
“Iwasalwaysmistreated.IgaveRoyalPipelinesmybestyearsanddidn’tevengetaraise.Thetruthis,yourfatherhasalotofbloodonhishands,whichiswhyhehiredTroyBrennanandhissontoworkonretainerforhim.Cillianisawell-suitedterrorist,adevilwaitingtounleashhellatanymoment.Andyou?You’reasimpleidiot.Itriedtosavethiscompanyfromitself,fromawful,unjustsuccession.”Sylliegrabbedmebytheshirtandtriedtoflingmeoverthebannister.
He’dbeencallingmeanidiottheentiresixmonthsIwasinBoston,butsomehowthoughthecouldflingatwo-hundred-pound,six-foot-four-inchex-poloplayermadeofsheermuscleandpheromones.Istumbledtwostepsbeforethrowinghimtowardthebannister,bendinghimsohalfhisbodywashangingintheair,betweenlifeanddeath.
Itwasatallfuckinghouse.Theairfeltthinandchilly,likebreathingicicles.
“You’redead,Fitzpatrick!”hespat,hisfacered.
Theboysinblackkickedtheofficedooropen(Ilovedwhentheydidthat;doorhandleswereforpussies)andrushedovertograbhimbytherobe.
Iwavedgoodbyewithmyfingertips.“We’llalwayshaveourlittleleaguesoftball,”Icalled.
“Fuckyou!”heyelledback,ratherimpolitely.“Iwanttocallmylawyer.Letmespeaktomylawyer.”
Istayedhalfanhourtogivetwoinvestigatorsmysideofthings,thenaskedifIcouldstartmakingmywaytoMaine.Theysaidyes.WhenIexitedtheLewishousehold,Igotatextmessage.
Ash:Momsaidyou’renotgettinganythingbeforeyoutalktoherfacetoface.Sorry.
Iwantedtokillsomeone.
“Youdorealizeyourhusbandandsonaremerehoursfrombeingblowntopiecesinaremoteplacewithzeroreception?”Imoveddownthecorridortowardmymother’soffice.
Sheledmebrisklytoherprivateroom—notthebedroomshesometimessharedwithDa.Shenodded.“Ido.Butyouarejustasimportantastheyare,sweetie.”
Isaidnothingtothat,becauseIstilldidn’tbelieveit.Afterwegotin,sheclosedthedoorandtookaseatbehindherdesk.Ididn’tevenknowwhyshehadanoffice.It’snotlikeshe’dworkedadayinherlife.
Iremainedstanding.Ididn’thavetime.“Getitoverwithandgivemethekeystotheprivatejet.”
“Privatejetsdon’thaveak—”
“It’safigureofspeech.”Ismiled.“Talk,Mother.”
Sheshookherhead,lookingdownatherfingers,whichweresplashedonthetable.
“Iknowyou’remadatme,Hunter,andforgoodreason.Ihadyouillegitimatelytogetbackatyourfather,thensentyouawaywhenyouweresix.Youhaveeveryrightintheworldtodespiseme.Buthoney,youmustunderstand.Iwasn’taterriblemothertoyou.Iwasaterriblemother,period.WhenIfoundoutIwaspregnantwithyou…”Shesuckedinabreathandlookedtheotherway,shakingherhead,likethememorywastoomuch.
Ifthiswasherplantomakeshitbetter,shewasdoingaterriblejob.
“Itwasthehappiestmomentofmylife.Wouldyouliketoknowwhy?”
Notreally.“Sure,”Igroanedinstead.AnythingtomakehergivemethegoddamnGulfstreamer.
Shelookedupatme,hereyesshining.“Becauseyou,IknewI’dlovethemost.Iwascrazyinlovewithyourfather—yourrealfather—butFilipneverlovedmeback.Infact,heranbacktoCroatiawhenherealizedIwasgoingtoleaveGeraldforhim.Yourfatherpaidhimhandsomelytodisappear,Iassume.Butyouweremylovechild,Hunter.Stillare.YouweretheonlyoneofmychildrenIbreastfed,thatInurtureduntilyouwerethree.”
“Wow.I’mhumbled,”Isaidsarcastically.Ididn’tunderstandwhereshewasgoingwiththis.
“But…”Sheheldupahand.“Istruggledwithalotofthings,severedepressionamongthem.Istayedinbedforweeksatatime.Sometimesyourfatherwoulddragmeout,andwe’dhaveviolentfights.Itoreouthishaironetime.Another,Ibrokehisrib.Iwasn’tfittobeamother,sosendingyouawaybeforeyousawallthatseemedliketheonlyoption.”
“AndbringAislingintotheworld,”Iremindedher.“Thatwasimportant,too.Fuckuponemorekid.”
“AislingwasmyapologyforFilip.”
“Damn,thatsoundsbad.”Isuckedmyteeth.
Shejumpedfromherseat,runningtome.Everyboneinmybodyturnedtoice.Evenwhenshestoppedafewinchesaway.Evenwhenshebegantolowerherselftoherknees.
“Dammit,Hunter,Icannottoleratethisanymore.Youhavetoforgiveme.”
“Orelse?”Iasked,shovingmyhandsintomypockets.Iforgot,momentarily,thatIhadmyassholefamilytosave.Iwassoimmersedinmymother’sattempttopatchthingsup.
Shelookedup,onherkneesinfrontofme.“OrI’mnotgivingyoutheGulfstreamer.”
“Yourhusbandandsonwilldie,”Isaidslowly,examiningher.
Shereallywasinsane.Shesmiledatme,hereyesfulloftears.Itwasasad,brokensmile,thatofapersonwhohasnothinglefttolose.
“You’rekillingmeeverydayyoudon’ttakemycalls.Please.”Sheloweredherfacetomysneakers.JesusChrist.Wasshegoingto…oh,fuck.Shewas.Shewasgoingtokissmyfeet.Icouldn’ttakeit.Couldn’tseethepersonwho’dpurgedmeoutintotheworldlosingtheremainderofherpride.
“Getup,”Iroared,yankingherbytheshoulder.“Iforgiveyou.”
“Really?”Shewasbawlingnow.
“Yes,really.Theapologywasafuckingmess,butitisobviousit’simportanttoyou.Now,please,fortheloveofGod,Mom,sendtheGulfstreamer.”
“It’salreadywarmedupandwaitingforyouintheganghanger.Oh,Iloveyou,Hunt.”
Icouldn’thelpbutwrapmyarmsaroundher,pattingherheadawkwardly.“Yeah,Mom.Loveyou,too.”
MylaststopbeforeboardingtheplanetoMainewastheBrennanresidence.Sailorlivedinahigh-risewithherparents,sohonkingforhertocomedownwasn’tinthecards.Ihadtodragmyasstoherdoor.
Sheopened,lookingalert,likeitwasn’ttwointhemorning.She’dbeenwaitingforme.
“Well?”Hereyeswidenedinanticipation.
“Youtoldyourdad.You’veneveraskedhimforthiskindoffavor.”
“Ihadtohelpyouinsomeway,”shesaidquietly.
Iknewhowmuchithadcosther,howmuchitwoundedhersenseofwhoshewas,andvowedtomakeituptoher.
“CanIgoChristianGreyonyourassandinviteyouforatripinmyprivateplane?”Iflashedhermypearlywhites.
“Iguess.ButnoBDSM.”
“Boo.You’renofun.”
“Invitesomeoneelse,then.”Shelaughed.
Ipulledherout,barelyresistingtheurgetokissher.
“Funisoverrated.Let’sgo.”Theprivateplanewasplushandyacht-styled,allmahoganyandcrèmeaccentsandbrassfittings.Ididn’twanttothinkabouttheamountofCillianandGeraldjizzthesecustomseatshadseen,andIwassomadatthemwhenIthoughtabouttheamountofpussytheyhadaccesstoonthisride.Infact,Ialmostdecidednottosavetheirungratefulassesfornotsharingtheirtoywithme.
Almost.
ThenIrememberedpussydidn’tmatteranymore,unlessitwasattachedtoacertainredheadedbanshee.
IwasonpinsandneedlesallthewaytoMaine.WhetherSylliegotwhathedeservedornot,Istillneededtotellmybrotherandfathertherefinerywasabouttoexplode.Ididn’tknowwhen,exactly,Sylliewantedtoputtheplaninmotion.Logically,Ihadatleastuntilthemorningtogettothem,andtheflightwasashortone.ButwhatifDawantedtoseetherefineryassoonashelanded?Thatwasagoldenopportunityforthefuckerstoblowhisassup.
Myoldmanwasexactlythekindofpersontogocheckonhispropertyatfourinthemorning,assoonashisfeettouchedtheground.
Sailortalkedabouteverythingandnothingtolightenthemood.Shegavemetheinsandoutsofherface-offwithLanaandJunsu,saidshewascheckingoutotherplacestopractice,butthatshewashangingthebow,sotospeak.
“Sowhatwillyoudonow?”Itappedmyfootonthefloor.
Astewardesswithablackuniformleaneddowntoofferusrefreshmentsandfoodwithaplasticsmile.Shewasyoung-ish.YoungenoughtowinkatmeafterSailorwasbusyunscrewingherbottleofapplejuicewhileIcrackedopenmyrootbeer.Thestewardessbrushedmyshoulderwithherhandwhensheleft,tellingmeshewasthereifIneededanything.
Sailorsawit,butsaidnothing.
Ishookmyhead.“Idon’twanther,”Isaid.
“Youdon’towemeanexplanation,”shereplied,peelingoffthelabelonthecold,drippingbottleofjuice.“Thedealisoff.Youcandowhateveryoulike.”
“I’dliketodoyou,then,”Ideadpanned.
“Hunter.”Shesighed.“Friends,remember?”
Shewasexasperating.
“Sowhatareyougoingtodo,ifnotarchery?”Iaskedagain,sittingback,watchingherthroughhoodedeyes.Icouldn’tbelieveI’dthoughthertobeanythinglessthangorgeousafewmonthsago.Iwasaddictedtoeverycurveofherfacenow.
“Promisenottolaugh?”sheasked.
Ishookmyhead.Nowitwasherturntolaugh.Igrinned.
“Iwanttostudyjournalism.”
“Why?”
“Foodcritic.”
“Dope,”Isaid.Wewerepretendingmyfamilywasn’tonthebrinkofexploding.Iappreciatedthatshewentalongwiththecharade.
“Right?”Shebitherlip.
“Totally.”
“Hunter…”Shetrailedoff,bringingherthumbtohermouth.
Uh-oh.Therewasconcerninhervoice.“Whenwasthelasttimeyouslept?”
“FuckifIremember.”Ishrugged.“Fourdaysago?”Thatsoundedaboutright.Ididtakecatnaps,dozingofffortenminuteshereandthere.
Shetappedhershoulderandsaid,“Ipromisetowakeyouupifyougetanotificationoraphonecall.”
Istoodandwalkedovertothecrèmeandnavyvelvetsofawhereshewasseated.Ipressedmyheadagainsthershoulderandclosedmyeyes.Shekissedmyhair
ItwasthesweetestsleepIeverhad.
Therereallywasnoreceptiononthegodforsakenhillwheretherefinerywaspositioned.Rightnexttoitwerethelivingfacilitiesoftheworkers,whereDaandCillianwerestayingtoshowsolidarityandIguesstoconveythattheyweren’taboveslummingitwiththeblue-collarfolks.(Spoileralert:theywere.)
Luckily,therewasreceptiononthewaytothefacilities,soIhadtimetotextTroy,Sam,Mom,andAisling,lettingthemknowwe’dgottenhereokay.Apparently,SylliehadbeensingingtotheFBIandtryingtopineverythingonthisBorisdude,sincehethoughttheyhadmorethantheydid.
Hewasgoingtorotinjailforalong-asstime.
ButnoneofitwouldbeworthitifIcouldn’tgettoDaandCillian.
IbouncedmyleginthebackoftheRangeRoverthatdroveustotherefinery,lookingoutthewindow.Dawngraduallybroke,leavingthefrostymountainsaglowinpinkandyellow.
Whenwefinallypulledupattheapartmentcomplexbytherefinery,someoneopenedthedoorforusandannouncedthatDaandCillianwereinDa’sroomupstairs.IboltedafterhimwhileSailorthankedourdriverandaskedtospeaktothemanager.I’daskedhertoaskthemtoevacuatetherefineryandsurroundingareacompletely.Evenifweweren’ttherewhenitexploded,itwaslikelytoreachtheapartmentsandevenfartherdownthestreettothefisherman’svillage.
ItookthestairstoAthair’sroomthreeatatime.WhenIreachedhisdoor,Iswungitopen,notbotheringwithaknock.IfoundCillianandDasittingatacornerdeskofanextremelymodestroomthathadadoublebedcoveredwithanorange,fuzzyquilt.Thefurniturelookedcleanbutdated.Theywerebothwideawake.Dawasdrinkingscotch.Cilliansiftedthroughabunchofdocuments,lookinglikehegaveveryfewfucksaboutmysurpriseentrance.
OnthedesknexttoCillian,hisphoneflashedwithanincomingmessage.
Fuckerhadreceptionsomehow.
Unbelievable.
Freshangerrippedthroughme,triplinginquantity.They’dghostedme.
Istormedinside,pickeduphisphone,andhurleditacrosstheroom.IthitthewallandbrokeinHALF,which—I’dbeenprettysureuntiltoday—wasfuckingimpossible.Screwpolo.Iwasobviouslyawastedbaseballhero.
“Youwanttotellmeyouhaven’thadreceptionfortwelvehoursnow?Thatyouhaven’tcheckedyouremailsandphonesforthatlong?Bullshit!Itriedtoreachyoudozensoftimesbeforedraggingmysorryasshere.Whyweren’tyoupickingup?”Ileaneddown,roaring.Flecksofmysalivaflewontotheirfaces.
Cillianflippedapageinhisdocument,refusingtoacknowledgemypresenceintheroom.Datookanothermeasuredsipfromhisdrink.
Don’tkillthemyourself.It’swhatSylliewants.
“YouwanttotellhimorshouldI?”Cillianaskedflatly,hiseyesstillonthegoddamndocument.
Myfatherlookedmestraightintheeye,smirking.“You’vepassedthetest,son.”
Ihadvisionsjustthen:visionsofmyselfbashingmyfather’sheadagainstthewallbehindhim.
VisionsofwrestlingCilliantothefloorandpunchingthesmugnessoutofhisfairfeatures.
Stufflikethat.ButIjustflashedmycraziest,don’t-forget-to-smilegrin,whichmust’velookedalotlikethepromisingstartofapsychoticepisode.“Idid?How.Fucking.Fun.Pleaseenlightenme,FatherDearest.”
Cillianfinallyhadthecourtesytodumpthedocumenthewasreadingonthedesk.Heglancedupatme.“WhenyoucametousaboutSyllie,Athairdidn’twanttobelieveit.Tome,Sylliewasalwaysaloosecannon.ItookituponmyselftoassignTroyBrennantothetaskofseeingwhathewasupto,whatdishSylvesterwasstirringforusinthedisasterpot.”Cilliandeliveredhisspeechinamatter-of-factwaythatimpliedhewasrecitingacabbagesouprecipe.
Sothat’swhytheFBIcamekickingdownSyllie’sdoor.Troyalreadyhadsufficientlegally-obtainedevidenceonhim.
“WefoundoutwhathewasuptowithBorisOmelniskiandhislittlefriendsinMaine,abouttheplantoblowtherefinerywithusinit.Wemadesureitwasemptyandallfaultymachineryhadbeenshutdown.Itwasamoney-sucker,butwecouldn’ttakeanyrisks.”
Mywholebodysimmeredwithragethatthreatenedtochokeme.
“Thenwhydidyouputmethroughallthisbullshit?”Ihissed,myteethclenchedtogether.“ShutmedowneverytimeItriedtowarnyouabouthim?Mademegothroughdozensofsleeplessnightsoflisteningtothefucker,ontopofdoingcollegeworkandworkingfulltimeforyourasses?Ijumpedthroughhoopsandlivedonzerosleeptopreventthisbullshit…andyou’retellingmeyouknewaboutitallalong?”
Myfatherstood,steppingaroundthedeskandopeninghisarms.Itoccurredtome,albeitsadly,thatnomatterhowbadlyhetreatedme,IstillreferredtohimasDa,eveninmyhead.
“Hence,youpassedthetest.”
“Fuckyourtest!”Iseethed,pointingathim.“Fuckitintheasswithatwelve-inchdildo.Ialmostkilledmyselftryingtosaveyou.Ibentoverbackwardsforyou.Iwenttowarforyou.Iwaswillingtoburn,todie,toperish.ForYou.”
ItwasCillian’sturntostand.“AsIsaid,itwasyourdirtyjobtopull.Pullyoudid,andinatimelymanner.Somethingthat,fortunately,hasneverbeenaproblemforyou,judgingbythelackofbabymommasknockingonourdoor.”
“Gotohell,Cillian.”Idraggedmyfingersthroughmyhair.
“Alreadythere.It’scalledlife.”
“Soyoutrustedmetocrackthisriddle,butnotenoughtorelyonme?”IturnedmyattentionbacktoDa.
TroyBrennanwasaboutasruthlessandskillfulastheycame,andSamBrennanwasthegoldenchildoftheunderworld.Thosetwocouldwinacoldwarwithadecade-oldlaptopandaBBgun.That’swhattheydidforaliving.Ofcoursethey’dunveiledSyllie’splanbeforeIdid.
“Correct,”myfathersaid,atwinkleofwarmthinhiseyes.“Needlesstosay,thewillshallbealteredaccordingly.Youaremyheir.Mychild.AFitzpatrick.YouwillkeepyourjobatRoyalPipelines.Andyouwillgetacorneroffice,theonenexttoCillian’s.Youprovedyourselfatruememberofthefamily,Hunter.”Heopenedhisarms,expectingmeto…what?Jumprightin?
Ismiledtightly.“Fuckyou,yourmoney,andyourlastname,oldsport.IfIhavetoearnbeingyourfamily,Ineverwillbe.”WerentedacaranddrovethefourhoursbacktoBoston.Hunterwassilenttheentiretime,saveforthefirsttenminutes,whenherehashedeverythingthathadhappenedwithhisfatherandbrotherinastrange,detachedvoicethatdidn’tbelongtohim.
“That’showlittlefaiththeyhadinme.”
“Youdidn’texactlygivethemprimereasontotrustyoubefore,though.”Iarguedtheirpoint,notnecessarilybecauseIagreedwiththem,butbecauseIknewhowmiserableitwouldmakeHuntertobeestrangedfromhisfamily.Nomatterthecomplexitiesoftheirrelationship,helovedandadoredCillianandGerald,lookeduptothem.Healwayswantedtobelikethemandneverthoughthecould
“Yousoundlikethem.”
“Youmean,logical?”
Hescoffed.“Didyouknowaboutmydadhiringyours?”Hesentmeasidelongglance,scowlingashecontinuedzippingthroughtheopenroad.
“Areyouinsane?”Iasked.“Ofcoursenot.”
“Andifyouknew?”hepressed.
Iwashopinghewouldn’taskthat.Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tanswerhypotheticalquestions.”
“Newsflash:you’reabouttoanswerthisone,”heshotback.
“Youneedtocalmdown.”
“WhatIneedissomeoneonmyfuckingside.”
“Iamonyourside,”Igrowled.
“You’dbeinmybed,ifyouwere,”hehadtheaudacitytosay,notraceofguiltorremorseinhiswords.“Yetyouaren’t.”
“That’sbecauseI’monmyside,too.”
“Meaning?”Hescoffed.
“MeaningIdon’twanttobeanymoreattachedtoyouthanIalreadyam,becauseyouobviouslydon’tfeelthesame.”
“AndifIdo?”heaskedafterachargedpause.
Ishookmyhead.“Youdon’t.You’reincapableofthat.Youcomefromalonglineofadulterers.Howwouldyouknowanydifferent?”
Hesatback,shakinghishead.Iimmediatelyknewhowawfulthatsounded.HowdisgustingIwastohim.“Cat’soutofthebagnow.SoifI’maserialadultererlikemyparents,doesthatmeanyou’regoingtobecarvingpeople’sfaceslikeapumpkinlikeyourdaddy?Areweplayingthegenegamenow?’Causerestassured,darling,wemaynotbethesamebrandoffuck-up,butwearebothfarfromtherealmsofnormalcy.”
Isaidnothing.Hewasright.
Huntercontinued,“WhatwouldittakeforyoutoknowI’mseriousaboutthis?Aboutus?Agrandgesture?Abindingcontract?Afuckingring?”
“Maybestopbeingashamedofme.Ofus,”Ibitback.“Thatcouldhavebeenenough.”
IreferredtothenightwithKnightandLuna,toallthetimeshe’dminimizedwhateveritwaswe’dhad.Iwassurehecaughtthereference.
Huntergotatextmessage.Heopenedit,driving.
“Fuck,”hemuttered,throwinghisphonetothecentralconsoleasmoretextmessagespouredin,lightinghisscreeninwhite.Hisscreensaverwasapictureofawoman’sasswiththesaying:Gohardorgohome.
“Fuck,fuck,fuck,”hepunchedthesteeringwheel,seething.“IneedtocatchaplanetoLondon.Somethingcameup.”
“What?”Iasked,incredulous.
“Vaughn,”hesaid,asifthatexplainedeverything.“I’mdroppingyouoffathome.HopefullyI’llbeabletokeepmypantsonwhileI’mthere.Asforyou,trynottokillanyone,yeah?”
NowaweekhadpassedsinceHuntergrabbedmebythearmandstormedoutoftherefineryapartmentsinMaine.ItwasthefirsttimesincehewasaboyintherainthatI’dseenhimtrulybroken.
Ihadn’theardfromhimsincehe’dleftforLondon.Ididn’twanttoaskAislingabouthim,butofcourseIcouldn’thelpmyself.Shesaidhe’dgonefortheweekendandhadn’tbeenpickingupanyone’scalls.WhenIfinallybrokedownandvisitedhisapartment,hewasn’tthere.
Nottwodaysago,andnotyesterday,longafterhewassupposedtobeback,accordingtoAsh.
Hunterhaddisappeared,andwithhim,myfavoritesummer.
“Thankyousomuchfordoingthis.Iknowhowmuchyouloathethemedia.”VanessaShielingoftheGoodMorning,Boston!showleanedforwardandtappedmythigh,aveneeredsmileonherface.
TherewassomethingalmostclownishaboutherBotox-enhancedperfection.Hercarefullysweptblondehairwastooshiny,tooput-together.Shestraightenedherbackinherseat,brushingnonexistentwrinklesfromherA-linereddress.
“HowdoyouknowIdislikeinterviews?”
Shewasn’twrong.ThebestpartaboutretiringfromarcherywasIdidn’thavetotalktothemediaanymore.BecausewhileRoyalPipeline’srefinerydidn’texplode,theJunsuandLanacasedid.Themediawantedmysideofthestory.Irefused,butthenCrystal,whomIstillhadacontractwith,arguedthatbynotaddressingit,Iwaslettingtherumorsaboutmyownmisconductroamfree.
“Youdidnothingwrong,atleastthisdecade.Youkilledherdog,notherparents,”shespatoverthephone,andIcringed.Butshewasn’twrong.Ineededtosettherecordstraightonceandforall.
“Thirtyseconds,”thedirectoroftheshowcalledfromthedepthsofthedarknessinfrontofthewell-litstudio.Therewasawholeotherworldinfrontofthestage,withBoston’slandscapeinthebackground—onewithcamerasandwiresandpeoplewithheadmicsandfranticassistants,livingintheshadowsoftheglamorousTVworld.Therewasalsoanaudience.Theseatswerejam-packedandfullofviewers.
Vanessagavethedirectorthethumbs-up.“Wehaveeverythingweneed?”
“Yup,”heanswered.
Everythingtheyneeded?Ididn’tlikethesoundofthat.
“Ready?”Sheturnedtoaskme.
“AsIeverwillbe,”Imuttered.
Oncewewereonair,VanessabeganquestioningmeabouttherivalrywithLana,therootsofit.ItoldheraboutSpotandaboutLana’sinjury,whichI’dcaused.Icamecleanaboutmypartofwhathappened.Thenwediscussedallthethingsthathadbeendonetome.LanaandJunsuwerefacingseriousallegations,andlikelyweren’tgoingtoparticipateinanyofficialsportsinthislifetime.ThenVanessaturnedherlineofquestionstomoreprivatematters.
“Let’stalkaboutthosepaparazzipictures.”Vanessarestedherchinoverherknuckles,frowninginconcentration.“Youwereseenstormingoutofyourformerarcheryclubwithahalf-nakedHunterFitzpatrickonyourheels.Forviewerswhoarenotaware,Mr.Fitzpatrickisthenineteen-year-oldheirtoRoyalPipelinesandanotoriousplayboy.Earlierlastyear,hewasinvolvedinascandaloussex-tapeincidentthat—”
Iraisedmypalm.“No.”
“Excuseme?”Shesmiledtightly.
“No.Youcannotreducehimtobeingaplayboy,to…tosomeguywhohadasextape.Hewasfilmedwithouthisknowledgewhiledoingsomething…”Iwantedtosay“thatheregretted,”butHunterprobablydidn’tregretonesecondofit.“…somethingthatshould’vebeendonemoreprivately,yes.Butheisnotsomesillyheir.Heishardworkingandhonestandgenerousandcaring.Hewouldputhimselfatriskforthosehecaresabout.”
Ithoughtaboutthepubbrawlhe’dgottenintowhenwebarelykneweachother,aboutthelengthshe’dgonetotosavehisfatherandbrother.Ieventhoughtaboutthatstupidfundraiser,whenI’dfreakedoutandhe’dheldmeinhisarms,refusingtoletgountilIwascompletelyokay.
“Hunterhasmademistakes,butsohastherestofhumanity,”Icontinued.“OnlydifferenceisHunterhashadthepubliceyeonhimsincedayone.Heneverhadachancetofigurehimselfoutprivately.”
“Areyousayingyouguysareanitem?”Vanessagrinned.
Seriously?That’swhatshegotoutofeverythingIsaid?
Ifeltmyselfblushingunderthethicklayerofmakeup.“That’snotwhatI’msayingatall.”
“Soyou’renotanitem,”shestressed.
“Right,”Isaidaroundalumpofbitternessinmythroat.“We’rejust…friends.”
Thenwhydoesitfeellikedyingtoadmitthat?
“Well,”Vanessasaidsweetly,tappinghercardsonherlap.“Asithappens,hedoesn’tseethingsthesamewayasyoudo.Whichbringsmetothefollowingitem.I’dliketoinvitemynextguest,HunterFitzpatrick!”
Myheartjerkedinsidemychestlikeasnakehadbittenit.Isuckedinabreathandblinkedashecameintofocus,wearingasmart,camel-huedsuit—accessorizedwithhiskillercheekbones,tauntingsmirk,andbeautifulblondlockssweptbackward.Hisblue,blueeyeszeroedinonmeashestrodeintothestudio,leavingnoroomforquestions.
HewastheHunter.
Iwastheprey.
Hesaunteredtothecenterofthestage.Insteadoftakingaseatnexttomeononeoftheblueloungers—infrontofVanessa—heremainedstanding,puttingamicsomeonefromtheproductionteamgavehimtohismouth.
“Well,fuckme,”Hunterspokeintothemicrophone,runningahandthroughhisvelvethair.Hisfelineeyes,sowildlyexoticandbluetheycaughteverysliveroflightintheroom,glitteredwithmischief.“Ijustrealizedsomethingprettydepressing,Vanessa.”
“Whatisthat,Mr.Fitzpatrick?Andpleaseuseappropriatelanguageforamorningshow.”Thepedicuredhostflashedadazzlingsmiletothecamera,bywayofapology.
Itwasblatantlyobviousshewastornbetweenbeingdelightedatthisnew,unexpectedoutburstthatwouldsurelybumpupherratings,andhorrifiedabouthimdroppingtheF-bombontelevision,especiallybecausemostofherviewerswerehousewivesandyoungmothers.
Itriedtoregulatemybreaths,acutelyawaremyheartflappinghereandthereinmyribcage.
“I’minlovewithSailorBrennan.Shit.Okay,that’snogood.”Hechuckled,strollingthelengthofthestudiowiththemicrophoneinhishand,frowning.“Endmenow,Vanessa.ForI’malreadytoast.Itismuch,muchmoreembarrassingthanmyotherbrushwithfame.Then,Ihadmydickout.Now,Ihavemyheartontheline.Myfriendsaregoingtohaveafielddaywhentheyseethis.Iwasthelastonestanding,yousee.IthoughtIwasimmunefromtheL-word.Ialwaysmadesuretoputacondomonmyemotionsbeforetalkingtoachick,letalonedoinganythingmore.Somanywomenhaveleftmeovertheyears,Ifiguredleavingthemfirstwasthebestcourseofaction.Butyou,Sailor,you’retheoneIwon’tletgetaway.”Hiseyesburneddarkly,intensely,likeafirecatchingastheyboreintomine.“Serialkillermuch?Yeah,butit’sthetruth.I’mnotlettingyouleaveme.”
Peoplelaughedintheaudience,andpoorVanessa’stightsmileevaporatedintoalookofhorror.
Ibarelymanagedtocomprehendwhathewassaying.Itfeltlikeanout-of-bodyexperience.
HunterFitzpatrickwasconfessinghisundyinglovetome.
Publicly.
Sopainfullypublicly.
I’dtoldhimIthoughtIwashisdirtylittlesecret,sohe’dmadeapublicdeclaration.InthecarbackfromMaine,he’daskedwhatitwouldtake.Aring…acontract…AndwhatdidIanswer?Tostopbeingashamedofus.Thiswashimprovingtomethatheneverwas.
“Andofcourse,”Hunterspreadhisarms,continuinghismonologue,“intrueFitzpatrickfashion,Ihadtogoandfallinlovewiththedaughterofa…”Hepaused,backtrackingwhenherealizedwhathewasabouttosay.“Alegitimatebusinessman,unlessprovenotherwise.”
Theaudienceburstoutlaughing,andIblushed.Hunterturnedaround,foundmygaze,andsmiled.ItwasasmileI’dneverseenbefore.Itwasn’ttauntingorsexyorentertained.Helookedboyish,almostsheepish.Therewassomethingdeliciouslyinnocentaboutthatsmile.Iwantedtocaptureit,takeapicture,frameit,andtuckitundermypillow.
“Fuckme,SailorBrennan.Youreallydidanumberonmyheart.IguesswhatI’mtryingtosay—whileoffendingtheearsofeverymiddle-agedhousewifeinthisstate—isthatthisisreal.It’salwaysbeenreal.YousaidIneverwantedyou,butthetruthwas,Ineverwantedanyonebutyou.Notreally.ButIhadn’trealizedituntilyouwalkedaway,andforthefirsttimeinmylife,Icouldn’teat,sleep,orbreathe.Iseeyou,aingealdian,evenwhenyou’retryingtohide.Especiallywhenyouaretryingtohide.Icannotunseeyou.I’mlikethatkidfromTheSixthSense.Onlyyou’renotdead,andI’mnothellaannoying.”
Morelaughter.Irealizedsomeofthegigglingcamefrommythroat.IalsorealizedIwaschokedup,myeyescoatedwithtearsthroughwhichIwatchedhim,blurryanddefiantandachangedman,butstillthesameguyI’dgrowntoadmire
Hewalkedtomyseat,crouchingdownononekneeinfrontofmeinanactofpuresubmission.“Angryangel.Aingealdianmeansangryangel.ThefirsttimeIheldyouinmyarms,atthefundraiserevent,twothingsoccurredtome.ThefirstwasthatIcouldn’tletgoofyou,evenifyouaskedreally,andImeanreallynicely.ThesecondwasthatIwasunworthyofkeepingyou.Iranawayfromyoumyentirelifewithoutevenknowingyou,Sailor.ButthemomentImetyou—okay,maybeafewweeksafterthat—Ifiguredoutnothavingyouwasnotanoption.So,hereIam,askingforasecondchance.Andsomeass.Buttheasscandefinitelycomelater.Ijustwantustobeus.Together.Exclusively.DoorDashandNetflixgalore.Likearealcoupleandshit.”
“Mr.Fitzpatrick!”Vanessagasped,puttingahandtoherchest,pretendingtobescandalized.“FortheloveofGod,language!”
HunterandIsharedaconspiratorialgrin.
“Mybad.Anyway,that’sthebottomline.I’mstupidinlovewithyou,SailorBrennan.Willyouhavemydumbass?Flawsincluded.Noreturns.”
“Fourteenbusinessdaystoreturnsaidbutt,andIgetmyfullheartbackifyourperformanceisnottomysatisfaction.”Istartedbargainingwithhimonlivetelevision.
Thiswaswhatwedid.Webantered.
Hiseyeslitupwithmischief.“Younevercomplainedabouttheperformanceduringyourfreetrialperiod.”
“Meh.”Ishrugged.“Itwasfree.Payingforsomethingwithheartsandotherorgansisacompletelydifferentmatter.”
“Fine.Ibelieveinmyproduct.Yougotyourselfadeal.”Hestoodupinfrontofme.Ireachedmyhandbetweenustoshakeonit.Hetookitandjerkedmeup,engulfingmeinhishugearms.
Hepressedakisstomymouth,aHollywood-worthykiss—thetypeyouseein’90smoviessecondsbeforethecreditsroll.
IwasJuliaRobertsinPrettyWoman,anunlikelyheroineinmyownstory.
Iheardtheaudiencestandupandcheerforus,clappingandwhistlingandlaughingwithjoy.Inthebackground,Vanessawastalkingaboutyoungloveandaboutfindingyourselfinanotherperson.ItsoundedlikeshewasreadingitfromthebackofaPhilosophyskincarebottle.
Hunter’slipsleftmineforabeat,andIgrowledmyprotestimmediately,searchingforthemagain.
“Sayyes,”hebreathedintomymouth.“Sayyou’llneverleave.”
“Never,”Imurmured.“Iloveyousomuch,Hunter.ItterrifiesmehowfarI’llgotosaveyou.”
“Howeverfarthatis,knowI’llgoevenfartherforyou.”
Hekissedmeagain,andtheuniversetilted,shifted,wipingeverythingclean:otherpeopleandtreesandbirdsandbuildings.Theonlythingleftstanding,upside-down,werethetwoofus,claspedineachother’sarms,defyinggravity.Itfeltsurreal.Unreal.
Andthis,IthoughtasIdrownedinhiskisses,ishowyouknowitisreal.
Threedayslater,SailordrovemetoAveburyCourtManor.
IwantedtoseemyfatherandCillianalittlelessthanIwantedtoscubadivewithScylla,theunfriendlymythicalGreekseamonster.Alas,mymotherhadcomeknockingonmydoornumeroustimes,begging,crying,andpleading.Aftershe’dadmittedIwashergoldenchild,itwasadickmovetorefuseher.Anyway,SailorsaidifIwantedhertomovehershitbacktoourapartment,Ihadtostitchthingsupwithmyfamily.Forher,I’dmakenicewithworld-classdictators.
ButI’mrepeatingmyself,becauseDaandCilliangiveBasharal-Assadarunforhismoney.
ThentherewastheotherthingIhatedtoadmit:IactuallylovedworkingforRoyalPipelines.IgrewupthinkingI’dhateitbecauseIwasdestinedtodoit,notrealizingitwouldfulfillmetobeapartofmyfamily’scompany.
Makingmoneywasmycalling.Itgavemeahard-on.Somewherealongtheway,I’dgottenattachedtoRoyalPipelines,andCillianandAthairwereabigpartofit.
“Justlistentowhattheyhavetosay.”Sailortappedherthumboverthesteeringwheel.
Istaredoutthewindow,scowlingatthetreessheddinggoldenandredleaves.Thegray,Gotham-likeskyabovetheshingledcolonialbuildingspouredhail.IrealizedwithdispleasurethatIlovedBostonanditsEastCoastgrit—itsfilthyalleyways,fourseasons,andIrishness.Itbledmylegacy,andIcouldn’tturnmybackonit.I’dlivedthelastfewyearspretendingtobeanall-American,CaliforniandudebrowhowasintosportsandthebeachandgirlswhoworeneonbikershortstoattendKanyeWest’schurch.Butmysoulwasn’tmass-marketplasticliketheirs.
MysoulwasinkedwithBoston.
Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,IfeltlikeIbelonged.
“Iwill,”Itoldmygirlfriend—yes,girlfriend—absentmindedly.ThoughIwasn’texactlyoptimistic.“Buthere’saspoiler:They’lltellmeIcanhavemyjobback,I’llagree,andthenwe’llhavedinner.We’llbailoutbeforedessertforanal.Bareback.I’llcomeeverywhere.Let’shopeyoudon’tgetpinkeye.”
UnlessSparrowbringsthatbanoffeepieshemakes.Thenanalcanwaitandwe’llstayfordessert.Iwouldconverttoitsreligionifithadone.
“Finebyme.”Sailorpoppedherlips.“AllI’maskingisforyoutogivethemachance.”
“Done.”
“AndtellmewhyyouwenttoLondon.”
Ismirkeddownather.She’daskedmethisathousandtimes.Ialwaysgaveherthesameanswer.
“Sorry,babygirl.It’snotmysecrettotell.JustknowIdidn’ttouchanyonethere,otherthanmyself.IdidjerkofftopicturesofyouarchingthatIfoundonGoogle.”
Theelectronicgateofmyparents’mansionopened,andSailordrovein,parkingalongsidethehugefountainattheentrance.Islidoutandopenedthedoorforher.Wewalkedinhandinhand.Aminutebeforewepassedthethreshold,shestopped.Shesqueezedmypalmandlookedupatme.
“Sixmonthsago,Iwashell-bentongoingtotheOlympics,andyouweredeterminednottoworkforyourfather.Now,boththosethingsaren’ttrue.Ihavenoideawherelifewilltakeme,butdefinitelynottheOlympics.Youbecameyourownperson,atalentedbusinessman,aguywithagirlfriend.Whateverwedid,Hunter,wedidittogether.Nomatterwhathappenstoday,knowthatwebothcamealongway.I’veneverbeenproudertobeonsomeone’sarm.”
Ileaneddown,kissingthetipofhernose.Shewasafuckingvision,SailorBrennan.IfinallyunderstoodwhyKnightcouldnevertouchanyoneelse,evenbeforeheandLunahookedup.NoothergirlintheworldcouldstirinmewhatSailordidwhenIlookedather.AdrianaLimain-fucking-cluded.
“Justoutofcuriosity,howmanyarmshaveyoubeendrapedon?”Imurmuredintotheshellofherear,entertainedbythegoosebumpspricklingherflesh.
“One,”shewhispered.“I’mlookingathimrightnow.”
“Thattakesthestingoutofthecompliment.”Ilaughed.
“Takethecompliment,Hunter.”
“Takeyourclothesoff,prey.”
Westrolledintothedininghall,whichgrewlouderandlivelierwithnoiseandlaughterasweambledin.Whenwestoppedattheedgeofthedoubledoors,wenoticedtheroomwasfilledwithourlovedones.
Mom,Da,Cillian,Aisling,Troy,Sparrow,Sam,thePenrosesisters,andalltheservantsoftheestate.
Myparentsturnedtofaceusinunison,sensingmypresencebeforeIannouncedmyself.Momjumpedoutofherreclinerlikeherasswasonfire,collectingSailorandmeintoagreedyhug.Theroomwentquietassheletoutagutturalshriekfullofrelief.
“You’rehere.Ohmygoodness,you’rereallyhere.Thankyousomuchforconvincinghimtocome,Sailor.”
“Mypleasure,Jane.Hunter’s,too.”Sailorelbowedmepointedly,maneuveringoutoftheveryawkwardhugandleavingmetoactuallyhugmymotherforthefirsttimeinadecade.
Ipattedherback,andshesteppedaway,cuppingmycheeks.Shescannedmyface,takinginventory.Hereyeswerefullofunshedtears,hope,andlove—somuchlove,itsweightnearlysuffocatedme.IwonderedhowI’dneverseenitbefore.Buttheanswerwasclear:I’dneverlovedsomeonemyselftoknowwhatlovelookedlike.
Nottruly.
NotuntilSailor.
Iplacedoneofmyhandsonmymother’s,squeezingitagainstmycheek.“SorryIwasanasshole.”
Sheshookherhead.“No,Hunter.I’mtheonewho’ssorry.AllIwantisachancetomakeitright.”
“Youhaveit,”Ianswered.IfIgotasecondchancenottobeB-gradegigolo,whycouldn’tshe?
“Son,”Dacalledfromthedepthsoftheroom,sittingonagoldenreclinerinthecenterofthedininghall.“Comesit.Wehavesomethingtodiscuss.”
Cillianwasseatedtohisright.TroyandSamtohisleft.SparrowsatsoclosetoTroy,shewaspracticallyonhislap.Thereweretwoemptychairsinfrontofhim,whichIguessedwerereservedforSailorandme.TheFitzpatrickspreferredtoconducttheirbusinessprivately,sothiswasoutofcharacter.Weusuallylikedourencounterslikewedidoursteaks:rareandwithoutanyadd-ons.
ItookSailor’spalminmineandledhertositdowninfrontofthem.
“Thankyouforcoming,ceannbeag.”Dabowedhishead,lettingoutaragged,relievedbreath.Helookedpained—humbled,almost.
Cilliantappedhishandimpatiently,bringinghimbacktothemoment.
TroyBrennansurprisedmebybeingthefirsttotalk.
“SorrytointerruptyourlittleDr.Philmoment.Sincesomeofushaverealjobstogetbackto,IguessIshoulddothetalking.Imetmywife,Sparrow,inquiteunnaturalcircumstances.ImarriedherbecauseIfeltinclinedto,notbecauseIwasparticularlyinthemoodfornuptials.”HetookSparrow’shand.“Frankly,Ididn’tthinkIhadagoodfit.Iwasalonewolf,whichsuitedmewell,orsoIthought.Turnedout,allIneededwasagoodkickintheass.Sometimes,whatwewantandwhatweneedaretwovastlydifferentthings.Ilearnedthattheunexpectedway.SowhenGeraldcametomewithaseven-digitbusinessproposal,inwhichmydaughter’shappinesscouldbeenhanced,Itookit.”
SailorandIexchangedexpressions.Icouldfeelherpulsethrummingonherwristagainstmine.Weturnedourgazetomyfather.
Thatmotherfucker…
“Itistrue.”Geraldsatback,pinchinghislipstogether.
Everyoneintheroomheldtheirbreath.Theairwasthickwithbittersweetagony.
Dacontinued,“ImetSailorBrennanmonthsago,whiletakinganarcheryclasswithaclient,afteryearsofnotseeingher.Sailor’strainer,Junsu,conductedtheclassforus.Shecameforherownpracticewhenwewereabouttoleave.Wedecidedtostayandwatchher.Herprecisionandcarewerecompulsive,divine;aftershewasdone,wecongratulatedher.Wewerestandingintheparkinglot,talking,whenathiefsnatchedanelderlywoman’spurseonthestreet.Sailorwentafterhimlikelightningwhennooneelsedid.Shechasedhimacrossthestreet,jumpedonhim,broughthimdown,grabbedthepurse,andhithimacrosstheheadwithitforgoodmeasure.Shereturnedthepurse,walkedbacktous,smiledpolitely,andaskedJunsuifshecouldcometrainearlierthenextday.Ithoughttomyself,thisisthekindofkidwhoshouldbeinfluencingHunter—notthedegenerate,nouveauricheKardashian-styleclownsheassociatedhimselfwithinsouthernCalifornia.ShehadfeistyIrishbloodrunningthroughherveins,andIwantedyou,Hunter,torememberthatyouweremadeofthesamestuff—sturdy,rough,andcapable.IadmitIsetyouupforfailuretwice.One,Irequiredyounottotouchherforsixmonths,knowingyouwouldfail,becauseshehadthefireyou’vebeenlookingforyourwholelife.Andtwo,IdidnothelpyousolvetheSylvestercase.ButonlybecauseIknewyouwerecapableofdoingthatyourself.Iwasn’tprovingapointtome,son.Thatwasn’tthetest.Iwasprovingittoyou,showingyouthatyoucoulddoit.Thiswasnotanauditionforyoutore-enterthefamily.Youwerealwaysapartofus.Iwantedyoutounveilyourowngreatness.Guesswhat?Youdid.”
Ifeltmyjawticking,butIrefrainedfromlashingout.SailorandIhadbeenplacedinanarrangedrelationshipwithoutourconsentandknowledge.AndtheworstpartwasthatmyfatherandTroyhadn’tbeenwrongintheirpredictions.Wedidfallforeachother.AndIdidlearnaboutmycapabilitiesthroughDa’stwistedplan.
Geraldleanedforward,elbowsonhisknees,hiseyesdiggingintomyscowl,tryingtoreadit.“I’venevershunnedyou,ceannbeag.You’remyson.Mine,andnooneelse’s.Icallyoulittleonebecauseyouwerealwaysprecioustome.Fromthemomentyouwereborn,youweresolovely,peopleonthestreetmistookyouforagirl.Godtouchedyou,blessedyouwithsomethingspecial,andIcouldn’twaittoseewhatyou’ddowithit.Myloveforyouwasdippedinagoodamountofapprehension,becauseyoudidn’tcomefromme.YouwerenotbiologicallyprogrammedtolovemebacklikeCillianandAisling,andthatunsettledme.Therewassomethingwildandforeignandmysteriousaboutyou,anundiscoveredcontinentfullofsecretsandthingsIdidnotknoworpossess.Youweresmartasademonandcompletelyunstoppable,astorm.Whenyouchosetomisusethegiftsyouweregiven,itbrokemyheart,butIalwaysknewyouhadit—theruthlessgene.Yousimplyhadtobepushedintherightdirection.”
Iknewitwasmyturntosaysomething,butIwasstillwaitingforKilltospeak.WhetherGeraldFitzpatricklovedmelikeasonornot,itwasobvioustotheentirecityofBostonthathisheir,thefutureleaderoftheFitzpatrickclan,wasgoingtobenoneotherthanCillian.Hewasgoingtotakeoverthiskingdom,andmyplaceinitdependedonhim.
Thetruthofitrattledme.Iwasaprincebetweentwokings,alwayswouldbe
Butforthefirsttime,Istoppedresentingthefactthathewasborntorule,andI,togovernbesidehim.
IturnedmyfacetowardKill.“Anythingtoadd?”
Hecrossedhislegs,assessingmethroughathinlyveiledexpressionofboredom.“We’regoingtohavedisagreements,arguments,andfights.I’mgoingtodothingsyou’regoingtohate,andyouaregoingtohavetobiteyourtongueandmarchon,likethegoodsoldieryouare.I,inreturn,promisetoaccommodateyourpoorlanguagechoicesandabilitytofindasexualinnuendoinanythingontheplanet,andIpromisenottotouchyourgirlfriend.”
“Well.”Sailorjumpedintohisspeech,takingthebait,likeKillknewshewould.
Hesatbackandgrinnedather,awaitingtheverbalwhip.
“Youdon’treallyhavemuchchoiceinthematter.Nooffense,butI’drathertakeacorpsetobedthanyou.”
“Nonetaken,anditwouldprobablyofferyoumoreaffection,”Cillianconfirmed,returninghiseyestome.
“Possiblybecauseyouwillbeacorpseifyoutalkaboutmysisterlikethatagain,”Samaddedwithapoisonouslittlesmile.
EveryonebutCillianlaughed.
“Nevertheless,”Killcontinued,“Iwantyoutobemyrighthand.Iknowyouaregoodforit.You’veprovenyourselftrustworthy,honest,andhardworking.You’llbemymoralcompass.GodknowsIneedone.Iwantyoubymyside,brother.”
Istood,tuggingSailorbythehand,signalingtoherthattheconversationwasover.Tome,itwas.
“I’llneedadetailedcontractensuringmyinheritanceisintact,andfurthermore,thatyouwaivetherighttodangleitinmyfaceeverytimewehaveadisagreement.”Ilookedbetweenmybrotherandfather.“AmIunderstood?”
Myfathershottohisfeet,scowling.
“Wejusttoldyouweloveyou,andyouwantyourinheritancerightstobedocumented?”
“IamaFitzpatrick.”Ishothimacoldsmile.
Iturnedtomakemywaytothediningtable.SailorhuggedAislingandthePenrosesistershurriedlybeforerushingtomyside.Weenteredthedininghall.Everybodyfollowed.Itookaseatatthesideofthetable.
Datooktheseatbesideme,makinghispositionclear.
Cilliantooktheheadofthetable,signalingtheshiftofgenerations.
Troysatontheothersideofthetable’shead,Sambyhisside.
Daputhishandonmine.Fromacrossthetable,Momsmiled,silenttearsrunningdownherpowderedcheeks.
Killraisedhiswineglassinsaluteattheheadofthetable.Everyonejoinedthetoastthistime—alldrinkingactualwine.
“Toourkingdom,andtoshowingourenemieswhyitwillremainours.TobeingaFitzpatrick.”Hepaused,lookingbetweenthetwoPenrosesistersspeculatively,aninchofasmilecurvingoverhisface.“AndtoBoston.”Fouryearslater
Featherykissesmadetheirwaydownmythroat.TheloosefabricofHunter’sshirt,whichI’dusedaspajamas,waspulledovermyhead.Irecognizedthosekisseswell:thelet’s-get-freakymorningkissesthatsignaledthestartofanewday.
Iturnedtomyside,wigglingmybuttintoHunter’serection,myeyesstillclosed.
“Tootired,”Imurmured.
“Toohorny,”herepliedgruffly,springinghisdickoutofhisbriefsandnestlingitbetweenmybuttcheeks.
Ididn’tknowwhenexactlyhe’dgottenridofmyunderwear—onlythatI’dgonetosleepwearingapair,andrightnowIwasnakedfromthewaistdown.Hisengorgedshaftwashotandvelvetyagainstmyskin.Salivapooledinmymouth.
Yes,please.
“HunterFitzpatrick.Nomeansno.”
“Nocanalsomeanmaybe,ifIpromisetogetyouoffbeforeyoureyesareopen,”hemurmured,andIfelthisbreathonmyneck.
Minty.He’dalreadyhadashowerandbrushedhisteeth.Ibethewasminutesawayfromdashingtowork.Hewasalwaysthefirstoneintheoffice.GeraldFitzpatrickwasshowingsignsofretiring,whichputCillianaspotentiallytheyoungestCEOofamulti-billion-dollarcompanyinAmericanhistory.ItalsomeantHunterwasputtinginextrahoursattheoffice.Ididn’tmind.Wealwaysmetsomewhereniceafterworktotrynewfood.
Iwasafoodcriticnowadays.SavorySailorSamplingBostonwaspickingup.IwaseventhinkingofstartingmyownYouTubechannelandwebsite.MyInstagram(whichwascheckmarked,somethingthatmadeHunterjokinglycheckoffboningacelebrityfromhisimaginarylist),alreadyhadoverseventythousandfollowers,includingthreehigh-profilecelebrities.
NoneofthemwereLanaAlder.She’dstayedundertheradarsinceherbanishmentfromarchery,alongwithJunsu.IheardshewasanaestheticianinAlbuquerque.Andafewyearsago,SamtoldmehesawJunsuwearingafastfooduniform,walkingdownthestreet.
“Giveityourbestshot,stud.”Irolledtomyback,feelingHunter’sfacealreadynestlingbetweenmythighs.Ibuckedmyhipsuptomeethislips,groaningwhenhishot,mintytonguepressedagainstmyentrance.Iwasalreadyembarrassinglywet.
“Jesus,”Imoaned.
“Speaking,”Huntersaid,intome.Ilaughedashistongueswirledaroundmyclit.“HowcanIhelp?”Hisvoicewasmuffled,ashismouthwasonmypussy.Hefakedanecho,drawlingaquieting“Help,help,help.”Ifeltmybodyvibratingwithpleasure,delight,andlaughter.
“MyboyfriendandIhavethemostinappropriatesexdiscussions.Idon’tknowwhattodowithhim.”
“Well…”Hesuckedmyclitintohismouth,pumpeditalittle,thenreleasedit,pushingtwofingersintomywetnessandplayingwithme.Hisotherhandmovedtomybreast,flickingmypuckerednipple.Ishudderedandclenchedaroundhim,sighingasmyentirebodytingled.Currentsofvoltageranfrommytoestomyhead.
“Maybeheshouldn’tbeyourboyfriend,then,”Huntersuggested.
Hismouthwasnowavailabletotalk—heworkedhismagicwithhisfingers—andwhenIpoppedmyeyesopenandstaredathiminconfusion,hewaslookingatme,hisheadstillbetweenmylegs.Hestraighteneduponhisknees,notbreakingeyecontactashepushedathirdandfourthfingerintome.Ifeltfullandtightandonthevergeofsomethingeuphoric.Mybodywasblossomingwithanorgasm,butpanicwashedthroughme.
“Doyouconsiderthisanappropriatetimetobreakupwithme?”IaskedasevenlyasIcould,consideringmyout-of-controlpulseandmildhysteria.
Helickedhislips.“IsthisworryIdetect,MissBrennan?”
Myeyeswidened.Whatwashisgame?
“No.Ofcoursenot.Icouldn’tcareless.Besides,you’dneverleaveme.”
Overtheyears,HunterandIhadbecomeafixtureinthetabloidsforalltherightreasons.Wewenttocharityeventstogether,wearingthebestfrocks.Wewerecaughtcanoodlinginourswimsuitsonexoticvacationswithourfamilies.Wenevercauseddramaandneverhadapublicfeud,andwewerethesecond-bestthingsinceBoston’smosteligiblebachelor,Cillian,wasn’tshowingsignsofsettlingdown.
Wewereasolidcouple,toapointthatpeoplehadlargelyforgottenHunterhadbeeninasextape.Ifeltsecureinourrelationship,inwhohewasnow.
“Thingis.”Hepressedhisthumbtomyclit,hisfingersstillinsideme.Herubbedmysensitivebudincircles.“Thatboyfriendgig?Kindofgotoldforme,I’mafraid.”
“Oh,”Ihalf-moaned,half-whispered.Iwasshakingallover,cominghardagainsthisfingers.Therushwasinsane,gloriouslyclimactic,butalsofilledwithanxiety.“Hmm,doyou…wanttotakeabreak?”
“Iwanttobeyourhusband,”hefinished,mybodyclenchingtightlyaroundhisfingersastheorgasmwashedoverme.Heusedhisavailablehandtoproducesomethingfromunderhispillow—alittlebox—throwingitintomyhands.
Myfingersshookaroundit,andIdroppeditonmychest,laughingnervously.Ipickedtheboxupagain,strugglingtoopenit.Myheartraced.Mybreathcaught.Mychestfilledwithpure,unfilteredjoyIcouldn’tcontain.IthoughtIwasgoingtoburst.
“Hunter…”
“Openit,”hedemandedhoarsely,clearinghisthroat.
Irealizedhewasnervous,too.
Iopenedit,andwhatIsawinsidebroughttearstomyeyes.Itwasn’tjustanengagementring.No.Thestones—rubiesanddiamonds—werearrangedintheshapeofabow.Itmust’vecostafortune.Nottomentionitwasdefinitelyacustomdesign.Ilookedup,wide-eyed.
“Beforeyousayanything.”Heleaneddown,grabbingasecondvelvetboxfromunderthepillow.Hethrewitintomyhands.ThistimeIcaughtitwithoutaproblem.“Thisone’smine.Youknow,ifyousayyes.”
Iopenedthesecondbox.Hunter’sringwasblack,withthreegoldstripesintheshapeofanarrow.
Iwasthebow.
Hewasthearrow.
Wehuntedtogether.Ateam.
Wewerealsoeachother’sprey.
“Iwantyou,”hesaidgruffly.“Yesterday.Today.Tomorrow.Forever.Iwantyoutobemine,SailorBrennan.Nooneelse’s,ever.”
“Yes,”Isaid,myvoicethickwithemotion.“Iwantthat,too.”
Heslidtheringontomyengagementfinger,leaneddown,andkissedmehard.Itwasablurofpassion,tears,andhunger.Thekissturnedferal.Heflippedmetomystomachandwasinsideme,justlikehe’dsaidhewantedtobewhenhewokemeup.Ididn’tcaremuchformymorningbreath,norforthefactthathewasprobablyrunninglateforwork.
“Aingealdian,”hewhisperedtomynapeashethrustintome.
“MyfavoriteHunter,”Iwhimperedbeneathhim.
Hewouldneverknow,Ithought.
Howhe’dcaughtme.
Howhe’dcapturedme.
Howhetrulyownedme.
Theboywholetthehaildrownhim.
Whodidn’tfightback.
Whooncegaveup.
Hewouldneverknow,becauseinhiseyes,Iwastheonewho’dcaughthim.
“What’dyousendhimthistime?”Cillianasked,goingthroughathickpileofenvelopesonhisdesk.
Whothefucksentsnailmailanymore?Didpeoplegivezerocrapsabouttherainforests?Imean,okay,Iworkedforacompanyproducingfuckingfuel—Icouldseetheglaringironyinmystatement—butfuelwasessentialtoruncarsandairplanes.Itwasvitaltorunheatersandbuildasphalt.Paperwaswhollyunnecessaryatthispoint.Wanttoread?BuyaKindle.Wanttosendaletter?Emailsomeone.UseMessenger.WhatsApp.Carveamessageinafuckingcave.
ItookaseatinfrontofastandingKill,rollingtheringIwasalreadywearingonmyweddingfinger.“JustafewpicturesofusinBarbados.SomesouvenirsfromourweekendinPuertoRico.”
IthadbecomeahobbyofminetosendSyllieabiannualupdateonhowthecompanywasdoingwithouthim—great,bytheway—andwhatweweredoingintheoutsideworld.Isenthimpicturesofmesmilinginvacations,gettingmydegree,andapartmentshoppingwithSailor.Igotasickkickoutofit,knowinghewasrottinginacellfortherestofhislifeforattemptedmurderswhileIlivedmybestlifewiththewomanIloved.
Cillianwasn’tsopersonalwithhishatredtowardSyllie.Don’tgetmewrong,hewouldgotoextremelengthstoruinpeople’slives,butheneededthemtobeabletofightback.Sylliewasadonedeal,andCillianwasaboveplayingwithhisfood.
Me?Iwastheassholeinthecafeteriawhostartedthefoodfight.
“Nicelydone,”Cillianclipped,gatheringalltheenvelopeshissecretaryhadsortedforhimalphabeticallyanddumpingthemintothetrashcanunderhisdesk.“Nowgetoutofmyoffice.Yourcontentmentisruiningmyappetite.”
“Areyousureit’smycontentmentandnotanallergicreactiontolife?”Ipretendedtosalute,standingup.
“Positive.”
“Nothingaboutyouispositive,fuckface.”Ilaughed.
“Youkissourmotherwiththatmouth?”hetutted,sittingdowntotakeacall.
“CursingistheleastofthedirtythingsIdowithmymouth,son.”Icluckedmytongue,gunninghimdownwithbothindexfingers.
“Callmesononemoretimeandtherestofyourmealswillbeconsumedthroughastraw,”Killhissed.“Don’tletthedoorhityouintheass.”
“Aww.Yousaidass.”Islappedahandovermymouth,feigningshock.“That’sapottyword.Goputadollarinthepiggybank.”
Cillianpickedupasmallgoldenstatueonhisdeskandhurleditatme.Idodgeditbyinches,laughingasitcrashedagainsttheglasswall,sendingtheeyesofeveryoneoutsideflyingtowatchwhathappened.
Hesmirkedupatme,adeviousglintinhiseyes.“Out.”
“Don’tforgeteighto’clock.WehavethisdinnerthingwithSailorandherparents.”Ipointedathim.Heshookhishead.
“Greadleat.”HewasnowthrowingmeoutinGaelic.
“Loveyou,bro.”
“I’llcallsecurity,”hethreatened.
Hewasn’tevenkidding.We’dbeenknowntousesecurityoneachothermultipletimesduringourdisagreementsinthelastfouryears.Igotoutofhisoffice,makingmywaytomine—approximatelythreestepsaway.Ihadmyownassistantnow.SinceI’dgraduated,actually.Peopleactuallygaveashitaboutmyopinioninthisplace.
ImademoneyforRoyalPipelinesastheheadofPRandmarketing.Ilikedworkingwithpeople,charmingmywayintotheirgoodgraces.Ichanneledmyextrovertpersonalityforagoodcause.Imadeseriousdough,andIactuallytookthecompanyinthedirectionIwantedittogo:greener.Moreenvironmentallyfriendly.True,Greenpeacewasn’tgoingtohitusupfordrinksanytimesoon,butthankstomyfutureprojects,RoyalPipelineswasnolongertheocean’svillain.
ThefirstthingIdidwasstopthedrillingintheAlaskanArctic.Cillianspunitpubliclythatthehighcostofthedrillingwasn’tworththeamountofoilwe’dfound.Itwasbullshit,butitsoothedhispreciouspride.Wewerenolongerfuckingwiththeworld’snaturalairconditionerandkillingallthefishies.
Nottomention,Ihadfriendsnow.Withpulsesandeverything.Therealdeal.
True,Ididn’tlovethemlikebrothersthewayIdidKnightandVaughn,butforthat,Iactuallyhadabrother.
“Hunter!”Da’svoiceboomedfromtheothersideofthefloor.Hewasjustgettingoutoftheelevator,pacingtowardhisoffice.“Aword,son.”
ImadeaU-turnandwalkedtowardhim.Wemetinsidehisoffice.Heclosedthedoor(thenewone,whichdidn’ttakeafuckingcenturytoclose),becausenow,wemetallthetimetotalkabouteverything,withoutCillianasabuffer.
“What’sup?”Ileanedmyshoulderagainstaglasswall,tuckingmyhandsintomysuitpockets.Heroundedhisdeskandsatbehindit,smoothinghistie.
“Whatdidshesay?”Hescrunchedhiseyebrows.
HisfirstbornwasasfarfrommarriageasTheJokerwasfromsanity,andAislingwasstillyoung.Iwashisbestbetforgrandchildren.
“Who?”Ifeignedconfusion.
“I’mtoooldforthesecharades.WhatdidSailorsay?”Hiseyesnarrowed.
“Sheneedsmoretime.”
Iscannedhimcoollyforhisreaction.Hisfacefellbeforeheschooledit,offeringmeawhat-can-you-dohuff.Hetriedsohardtokeepapokerface,butthefacthereachedforhishandkerchiefanddabbedhisforeheadgaveawayhisdespair.
“Buyherabiggerring.That’lldothetrick.”
“NotwithSailor.”Ishookmyhead,stilleyeinghim.
Hegroaned,rubbinghistemple.“Probably.She’satoughie.”
“I’mtougher.”Igrinned,pullingoutmyhandandshowinghimmyringfinger.“Iwon’tkeepyouandMomwaitingforlong.IwanttoputthisshitonlockasfastasIcan,beforesherealizesshecandomuchbetter.”
Dalookedupfromhisseat,shakinghishead,andwhispered,“No,shecan’t.”
Ibelievedhim—notthatitwastrueaboutSailorandme,butthathemeantit.
“Iloveyou,ceannbeag.Morethanthiskingdom.”Dasmirked,slowanddeliberate,tryingnottoburstwithpride.
Igrinnedback,fingeringtheDalahorseonmyneck.Sailorhadgivenitbacktomethedayshe’dmovedbackin.Itwasnolongercolorless,though.She’dpainteditorange—likeherhair.
“Iloveyou,oldsport.Morethanpu—”
“No.”
“Puppies!Chill.”
Iturnedaroundandmademywaytomyoffice,laughing.
Itotallymeantpussy.
TheEndThishasbeensuchaspecialbookformetowrite.HunterFitzpatrickwassupposedtobenothingbutasidecharacterinAllSaintsHigh.Ineverplannedforhimtohavehisownbook,letalonetowriteanentireseriesabouthisfamily.Buthejustpossessedmewithhischarm,andIfoundmyselfunabletoresisthisstory.
Ihavesomanypeopletobethankfulfor,peoplewhohelpedmakethisbookwhatitistoday.
Firstofall,toTijuanaTurner,mymomager,favoriteperson,andthefirstpairofeyesonanyofmybooks.Thankyousomuchforalltheloveyou’vegivenHunterandSailor.Tomybetareaders,SarahGrimSentz,LanaKart,VanessaVillegas,AmyHalter,andAvaHarrison.Thankyousomuch.
ToCharleighRose,HelenaHunting,andParkerS.Huntingtonforbeingthebesthumansintheworld.Literally.Thebest.Yourfriendshipmeanssomuchtome!
Tomyeditors,JessicaRoyerOckenandPaigeMaroneySmith.Iamsoverygratefultobeworkingwithyou!
Tomyamazing(andpatient)designer,LetitiaHasser,fornotgivinguponlifewhilstworkingwithmeoncovers.
Tomystreetteam—mySUPERHEROES!—Icouldn’tdothiswithoutyou.ThatmuchIknow.Lin,Ratula,Vane,Marta,Yamina,Rebecca,Jacquie,Avivit,Sarah(KelloggandGrim!),Amy,Nadine,Ariadna,Nina,Isa,Chele’,Betty,Sher,Lisa,Leeann,Brittany,Sophie,Stacey,Amanda,Summer,Sheena,Samantha,Tanaka,Vickie,Keri,Zafi,andJodie.Youladiesarethebest!
ToCandiKaneforbeingthequeenofeverythingPRandtoKimberlyBrower,myawesomeagent.
TotheSassySparrows,myreadergroup,thatIlovesomuch.Andtoyou,fortakingachanceonthisbook.Iamhonoredthatyouchosetospendtimereadingmywork,andIwouldbeverygratefulifyoucouldtakeafewmomentstoleaveanhonestreview.
Thankful,
L.J.ShenBeforeyouleave,hereisthefirstchapterofPrettyReckless,bookoneintheAllSaintsHighseries.FindallaboutVaughn,Knight,Dariaandtheirstories!
Itstartedwithalemonade
Andendedwithmyheart
This,myprettyrecklessrival,ishowourscrewed-upstorystarts
AgeFourteen.
Thetilesundermyfeetshakeasaherdofballerinasblazespastme,theirfeetpoundinglikeartilleryinthedistance.
Brownhair.Blackhair.Straighthair.Redhair.Curlyhair.Theyblurintoarainbowoftrimsandscrunchies.MyeyesaresearchingfortheblondheadI’dliketobashagainstthewell-wornfloor.
Feelfreenottobeheretoday,QueenBitch.
Istandfrozenonthethresholdofmymother’sballetstudio,mypalepinkleotardstickingtomyribs.Mywhiteduffelbagdanglesfrommyshoulder.Mytightbunmakesmyscalpburn.WheneverIletmyhairdown,mygoldenlocksfalloffinchunksonthebathroomfloor.ItellMomit’sfrommessingwithmyhairtoomuch,butthat’sBS.Andifshegaveadamn—reallygaveone,notjustpretendedto—she’dknowthis,too.
Iwigglemybanged-uptoesinmypointeshoes,swallowingtheballofanxietyinmythroat.Viaisn’there.Thankyou,Marx.
Girlstorpedopastme,bumpingintomyshoulders.Ifeeltheirgigglesinmyemptystomach.Myduffelbagfallswithathud.Myclassmatesareleaner,longer,andmoreflexiblewithrod-straightbackslikeanexclamationmark.Me?I’msmallandmuscularlikeaquestionmark.Alwaysunsureandonthevergeofsnapping.Myfaceisnotstoicandregal;it’straitorousandunpredictable.Someweartheirheartsontheirsleeves—Iwearmineonmymouth.IsmilewithmyteethwhenI’mhappy,andwhenmymomlooksatme,I’malwayshappy.
“Youshouldreallytakegymnasticsorcheer,Lovebug.Itsuitsyousomuchbetterthanballet.”
ButMomsometimessaysthingsthatdigatmyself-esteem.There’saroundeddentonitssurfacenow,theshapeofherwords,andthat’swhereIkeepmyanger.
MelodyGreen-FollowhillisaformerballerinawhobrokeherlegduringherfirstweekatJuilliardwhenshewaseighteen.BallethasbeenexpectedofmesincethedayIwasborn.And—justmyluck—Ihappentobeexceptionallybadatit.
EnterViaScully.
Alsofourteen,ViaiseverythingIstrivetobe.Taller,blonder,andskinnier.Worstofall,hernaturaltalentmakesmydancinglooklikeaninsulttoleotardsallovertheworld.
Threemonthsago,ViareceivedaletterfromtheRoyalBalletAcademyaskinghertoaudition.Fourweeksago—shedid.Herhotshotparentscouldn’tgetthetimeoffwork,somymomjumpedatthechancetoflyheronaweeklongtriptoLondon.NowtheentireclassiswaitingtohearifViaisgoingtostudyattheRoyalBalletAcademy.Wordaroundthestudioisshehasitinthebag.EventheUkrainiandanseurAlexeiPetrov—asixteen-year-oldprodigywhoisliketheJustinBieberofballet—postedanIGstorywithheraftertheaudition.
Lookingforwardtocreatingmagictogether.
Itwouldn’tsurprisemetolearnViacandomagic.She’salwaysbeenawitch.
“Lovebug,stopfrettingbythedoor.You’reblockingeveryone’sway,”mymothersingsongswithherbacktome.Icanseeherreflectionthroughthefloor-to-ceilingmirror.She’sfrowningattheattendancesheetandglancingatthedoor,hopingtoseeVia.
Sorry,Mom.Justyourspawnoverhere.
Viaisalwayslate,andmymother,whonevertoleratestardiness,letshergetawaywithit.
Ibenddowntopickupmyduffelbagandpadintothestudio.Ashinybarreframestheroom,andafloor-to-ceilingwindowdisplaysdowntownTodosSantosinallitsphotogenic,upper-crustglory.Peach-coloredbenchesgracetree-linedstreets,andcrystalbluetowerssparklelikethethinlinewheretheoceankissesthesky.
Ihearthedoorsqueakingopenandsqueezemyeyesshut.
Pleasedon’tbehere.
“Via!We’vebeenwaitingforyou,”Mom’schirpislikeaBBgunshootingmeintheback,andItumbleovermyownfeetfromtheshockwave.Snortsexplodeallovertheroom.Imanagetogripthebarre,pullingmyselfupasecondbeforemykneeshitthefloor.Flushed,Igraspitinonehandandslideintoasloppyplié.
“Lovebug,beadarlingandmakesomeroomforVia,”Mompurrs.
Symbolically,Mother,I’dloveforViatomakemyasssomeroom,too.
Ofcourse,herpreciousprodigyisn’twearingherballetgeartodayeventhoughsheownsItalian-importedleotardsothergirlscanonlydreamof.Viaclearlycomesfrommoneybecauseevenrichpeopledon’tlikeshellingouttwohundredbucksforabasicleotard.OtherthanMom—whoprobablyfiguresI’llneverbeatrueballerinasotheleastshecandoisdressmeuplikeone.
Today,ViaiswearingacroppedyellowTweetyBirdshirtandrippedleggings.Hereyesarered,andherhairisamess.Doessheevenmakeaneffort?
Shethrowsmeapatronizingsmirk.“Lovebug.”
“Puppy,”Iretort.
“Puppy?”Shesnorts.
“I’dcallyouabitch,butlet’sadmitit,yourbitedoesn’treallyhaveteeth.”
Ireadjustmyshoes,pretendingthatI’moverher.I’mnotoverher.Shemonopolizesmymother’stime,andshe’sbeenonmycasewaybeforeIstartedtalkingback.ViaattendsanotherschoolinSanDiego.Sheclaimsit’sbecauseherparentsthinkthekidsinTodosSantosaretooshelteredandspoiled.Herparentswanthertogrowupwithrealpeople.
Knowwhatelseisfake?Pretendingtobesomethingyou’renot.IownuptothefactI’maprissyprincess.Sueme(Pleasedo.Icanaffordreallygoodlegaldefense).
“Meetmeafterclass,Vi,”Momquips,thenturnsbackaroundtothestereo.Vi(Vi!)usestheopportunitytostretchherleg,stompingonmytoesintheprocess.
“Oops.Lookslikeyou’renottheonlyclumsypersonaroundhere,Daria.”
“Iwouldtellyoutodropdead,butI’mafraidmymomwouldforcemetogotoyourfuneral,andyoulegitaren’tworthmytime.”
“Iwouldtellyoutokissmyass,butyourmomalreadydoesthat.Ifsheonlylikedyouhalfasmuchasshelikesme.It’scool,though;atleastyouhavemoneyfortherapy.Andanosejob.”Shepatsmybackwithasmirk,andIhate,hate,hatethatsheisprettier.
Ican’tconcentratefortherestofthehour.I’mnotstupid.EventhoughIknowmymotherlovesmemorethanVia,Ialsoknowit’sbecauseshe’sgeneticallyprogrammedtodoso.
Centuriestickby,buttheclassisfinallydismissed.Allthegirlssashaytotheelevatorinpairs.
“Dariadarling,domeafavorandgetusdrinksfromStarbucks.I’mgoingtothelittlegirls’room,thenwrappingsomethinguprealquickwithVi.”Mompatsmyshoulder,thensauntersoutofthestudio,leavingatrailofherperfumelikefairydust.Mymomwoulddonateallherorganstosaveoneofherstudents’fingernails.Shesmothersherballerinaswithlove,leavingmesaddledwithjealousy.
IgrabMom’sbagandturnaroundbeforeIhaveachancetoexchangewhatDaddycalls“unpleasantries”withVia.
“Youshould’veseenherfacewhenIauditioned.”Viastretchesinfrontofthemirrorbehindme.She’sasagileasacontortionist.SometimesIthinkshecouldwrapherselfaroundmyneckandchokemetodeath.
“Wehadablast.Shetoldmethatbythelooksofit,notonlyamIin,butI’malsogoingtobetheirstarstudent.Itfeltkindof…”Shesnapsherfingers,lookingfortheword.Iseeherinthereflectionofthemirrorbutdon’tturnaround.Tearsarehangingonmylowerlashesfortheirdearlives.“Aredemption,orsomething.Likeyoucan’tbeaballerinabecauseyou’reso,youknow,you.Butthenthere’sme.Soatleastshe’llgettoseesomeoneshelovesmakeit.”
DaddysaysagreenHulklivesinsideme,andhegetsbiggerandbiggerwhenIgetjealous,andsometimes,theHulkblaststhroughmyskinanddoesthingstheDariaheknowsandloveswouldneverdo.Hesaysjealousyisthetributemediocritypaystogenius,andI’mnomediocregirl.
Let’sjustsayIdisagree.
I’vealwaysbeenpopular,andI’vealwaysfoughthardforaplaceinthefoodchainwhereIcanenjoytheview.ButIthinkI’mordinary.Viaisextraordinaryandglowssobright,sheburnseverythinginhervicinity.I’mthedustbeneathherfeet,andI’mcrushed,andbitter,andHulky.
Nobodywantstobeabadperson.Butsomepeople—likeme—justcan’thelpthemselves.Atearrollsdownmycheek,andI’mthankfulwe’realone.Iturnaroundtofaceher
“Whatthehellisyourproblem?”
“Whatisn’t?”Shesighs.“Youareaspoiledprincess,ashallowidiot,andaterribledancer.HowcansomeonesountalentedbeborntotheMelodyGreen-Followhill?”
Idon’tknow!Iwanttoscream.Noonewantstobeborntoagenius.Marx,blessSeanLennonforsurvivinghisownexistence.
Ieyeherpriceypointeshoesandarchamockingeyebrow.“Don’tpretendI’mtheonlyprincesshere.”
“You’reanairhead,Daria.”Sheshakesherhead.
“AtleastI’mnotaspaz.”Ipretendtobeblasé,butmywholebodyisshaking.
“Youcan’tevengetintoadecentfirstposition.”Shethrowsherhandsintheair.Sheisn’twrong,andthatenragesme.
“Again—why.Do.You.Care!”Iroar.
“Becauseyou’reawasteoffuckingspace,that’swhy!WhileI’mbustingmyass,yougetaplaceinthisclassjustbecauseyourmotheristheteacher,.”
Thisismychancetotellherthetruth.
ThatI’mbustingmineevenharder,preciselybecauseIwasn’tbornaballerina.Instead,myheartshatterslikeglass.Ispinonmyheelanddartdownthefireescape,takingthestairstwoatatime.IpourmyselfoutintotheblazingCaliforniaheat.AnyothergirlwouldtakealeftanddisappearinsideLibertyPark,butItakearightandenterStarbucksbecauseIcan’t—won’t—disappointmymommorethanIalreadyhave.Ilookleftandrighttomakesurethecoastisclear,thenreleasethesobthathasweighedonmychestforthepasthour.Igetintoline,tuggingopenMom’spursefromherbagasIwipemytearsawaywithmysleeve.Somethingfallstothefloor,soIpickitup.
It’sacrispletterwithmyhomeaddressonit,butthenamegivesmepause.
SylviaScully.
Sniffing,Iriptheletteropen.Idon’tstoptothinkthatitisn’tminetoopen.SeeingVia’smerenameabovemyaddressmakesmewanttoscreamuntilthewallsinthisplacefall.Thefirstthingthatregistersisthesymbolatthetop.
TheRoyalBalletAcademy.
Myeyesarelikeawonkymixedtape.Theykeeprewindingtothesamewords.
AcceptanceLetter.
AcceptanceLetter.
AcceptanceLetter.
Viagotaccepted.Ishouldbethrilledshe’llbeoutofmyhairinafewmonths,butinstead,theacidictasteofenvyburstsinsidemymouth.
Shehaseverything.
Theparents.Themoney.Thefame.Thetalent.Mostofall—mymother’sundividedattention.
Shehaseverything,andIhavenothing,andtheHulkinsidemegrowslarger.Hisbodysohugeitpressesagainstmydiaphragm.
Awholenewlifeinoneenvelope.Via’slifehangingbyapaper.Apaperthat’sinmyhand.
“Sweetie?Honey?”ThebaristasnapsmeoutofmytrancewithatonethatsuggestsI’mnotasweetienorahoney.“Whatwouldyoulike?”
ForViatodie.
IplacemyorderandshuffletothecorneroftheroomsoIcanreadtheletterforthethousandthtime.Asifthewordswillchangebysomemiracle.
Fiveminuteslater,Itakebothdrinksandexitontothesidewalk.IdarttothenearesttrashcantodisposeofmyicedtealemonadesoIcanholdtheletterwithoutdampeningit.MomprobablywantedtoopenitwithVia,andIjusttookawaytheirlittlemoment.
Sorrytointerruptyourbondingsesh.
“Putthedrinkdown,andnobodygetshurt,”boomsavoicebehindme,likeliquidhoney,asmyhandhoversoverthetrashcan.It’smale,buthe’syoung.Ispininplace,notsureIheardhimright.Hischindippedlow,Ican’tseehisfaceclearlybecauseofaRaidersballcapthat’sbeenworntodeath.He’stallandscrawny—almostscarilyso—butheglidestowardmelikeaBengaltiger.Asifhe’sfoundawaytowalkonairandcan’tbebotheredwithmundanethingslikemuscletone.
“Arewethrowingthisaway?”Hepointsatthelemonade.
We?Bitch,atthispoint,there’snotevenayoutome.
Imotiontohimwiththedrink.Hecanhavethestupidicedtealemonade.Gosh.Heisinterruptingmymeltdownforalemonade.
“Nothing’sfreeinthisworld,SkullEyes.”
Iblink,willinghimtoevaporatefrommyvision.DidthisjackassreallyjustcallmeSkullEyes?AtleastIdon’tlooklikeaskeleton.MymindisupstairswithVia.WhydoesMomreceivelettersonherbehalf?Whycouldn’ttheysenditdirectlytoVia’shouse?IsMomadoptingherassnow?
Ithinkaboutmysister,Bailey.Atonlynine,shealreadyshowspromiseasagifteddancer.ViamovingtoLondonmightencourageMomtoputBaileyintheRoyalBalletAcademy,too.MomhadtalkedaboutmeapplyingtherebeforeitbecameclearthatIcouldbeaPanerabagelbeforeI’dbecomeaprofessionalballerina.Ibegintogluethepiecesofmyscrewed-uprealitytogether.
WhatifIhadtomigratetoLondontowatchbothgirlsmakeitbigwhileIswaminmypoolofmediocrity?
BaileyandViawouldbecomeBFFs.
I’dhavetolivesomewhererainyandgray.
We’dleaveVaughnandKnightandevenLunabehind.Allmychildhoodfriends.
ViawouldofficiallytakemyplaceinMom’sheart.
Hmm,nothanks.
Nottoday,Satan.
WhenIdon’tanswer,theboytakesasteptowardme.I’mnotscaredalthough…maybeIshouldbe?He’swearingdirtyjeans—I’mtalkingmudanddust,not,like,purposelyhaphazard—andawornblueshirtthatlookstwosizestoobigwithaholethesizeofasmallfistwherehisheartis.SomeonewrotearounditinablackSharpieandgirliehandwriting,Isitasign?—Adriana,xoxoandIwanttoknowifAdrianaisprettierthanme.
“WhyareyoucallingmeSkullEyes?”Iclenchtheletterinmyfist.
“Because.”HeslopeshisheadsolowallIcanseearehislips,andtheylookpetal-softandpink.Feminine,almost.Hisvoiceissmoothtoapointithurtsalittleinmychest.Idon’tknowwhy.Guysmyagearerevoltingtome.Theysmelllikepizzathathassatinthesunfordays.“Youhaveskullsinyoureyes,SillyBilly.Knowwhatyouneed?”
ForMomtostoptellingmethatIsuck?
ForViatodisappear?
Takeyourpick,dude.
Ishovemyfreehandintomymom’swalletandpluckoutaten-dollarbill.Helooksasifhecoulduseameal.Iprayhe’lltakeitbeforeMomcomesdownandstartsaskingquestions.I’mnotsupposedtotalktostrangers,muchlessstrangerswholookliketheyaredumpsterdivingfortheirnextmeal.
“Seaglass.”Hethrustshishandinmydirection,ignoringthemoneyandthedrink.
“LikethestuffyougetonEtsy?”Ihuff.
Great.You’reaweirdo,too.
“Huh?Nah,thatshit’strash.Orangeseaglass.Therealstuff.FounditonthebeachlastweekandGoogledit.It’stherarestthingintheworld,youknow?”
“Whywouldyougiveatotalstrangersomethingsoprecious?”Irollmyeyes
“Whynot?”
“Um,hello,attentionspanmuch?Weren’tyoutheonewhojustsaidnothinginthisworldisfree?”
“Whosaidit’sfree?Didyougetallyourannualperiodstodayatonceorsomething?”
“Don’ttalkaboutmyperiod!”
“Fine.Noperiodtalk.Butyouneedarealfriendrightnow,andI’mofficiallyapplyingfortheposition.Ievendressedthepart.Look.”Hemotionstohishoboclotheswithanapologeticsmile.
Andjustlikethat,heatpoursintomychestlikehotwax.Anger,Ifind,hasthetendencytobecrisp.Ireallywanttothroatpunchhim.Hepitiesme?Pities.Theguywiththeholeinhisshirt.
“Youwanttobemyfriend?”Ibarkoutalaugh.“Patheticmuch?Like,whoevensaysthat?”
“Me.Isaythat.AndIneverclaimednottobepathetic.”Hetugsathisrippedshirtandraiseshisheadslowly,unveilingmoreofhisface.AnosemymomwouldcallRomanandajawthat’stoosquareforsomeonemyage.He’sallsharpangles,andmaybeonedayhewillbehandsome,butrightnow,helookslikeananimecartooncharacter.MightyMax
“Look,doyouwantthelemonadeandmoneyornot?Mymomshouldbehereanyminute.”
“And?”
“Andshecan’tseeustogether.”
“BecauseofhowIlook?”
Duh.
“No,becauseyou’reaboy.”Idon’twanttobemeantohimeventhough,usually,Iam.Especiallytoboys.Especiallytoboyswithbeautifulfacesandhoneyvoices.
Boyscansmellheartbreakfromacrossacontinent.Evenatfourteen.Eveninthemiddleofaninnocentsummerafternoon.Wegirlshaveaninvisiblestringbehindourbellybutton,andonlycertainguyscantugatit.
Thisboy…hewillsnapitifIlethim.
“Taketheseaglass.Owemesomething.”Hemotionstomewithanopenpalm.Istareattheuglylittlerock.Myfistclenchesaroundtheletter.Thepaperhisses.
Theboyliftshisheadcompletely,andoureyesmeet.HestudiesmewithquietinterestasthoughI’mapainting,notaperson.Myheartisriotingallover,andthedumbestthoughtcrossesmymind.Evernoticehowtheheartisliterallycagedbytheribs?That’sinsane.Asifourbodyknowsitcanbreaksoeasily,itneedstobeprotected.Whitedotsfillmyvision,andhe’sswimmingsomewherebehindthem,againstthestream.
“What’sintheletter?”heasks.
“Myworstnightmare.”
“Giveittome,”heorders,soIdo.Idon’tknowwhy.MostlikelybecauseIwanttogetridofit.BecauseIwantViatohurtasmuchasIdo.BecauseIwantMomtobeupset.Marx,what’swrongwithme?I’mahorribleperson.
Hiseyesarestillonmineashetearsthelettertoshredsandletsthepiecesfloatlikeconfettiintothetrashcanbetweenus.Hiseyesaredarkgreenandbottomlesslikeathicklyfoggedforest.IwanttostepinsideandrununtilI’minthedepthofthewoods.Somethingoccurstomejustthen.
“You’renotfromhere,”Isay.Heistoopure.Toogood.Tooreal.
Heshakeshisheadslowly.“Mississippi.Well,mydad’sfamily.Anyway.Owemesomething,”herepeats,almostbegging.
Whydoeshewantmetoowehimsomething?
Sohecouldaskforsomethingback.
Idon’trelent,frozentomyspot.Instead,Ihandhimthelemonade.Hetakesit,closesthedistancebetweenus,popsthelidopen,andpoursthecontentsallovertheruinedletter.Hisbodybrushesagainstmine.We’restomachtostomach.Legstolegs.Hearttoheart.
“Closeyoureyes.”
Hisvoiceisgruffandthickanddifferent.Thistime,Isurrender.
Iknowwhat’sabouttohappen,andI’mlettingithappenanyway.
Myfirstkiss.
IalwaysthoughtitwouldhappenwithafootballplayerorapopstaroraEuropeanexchangestudent.Someoneoutsideofthesmallbordersofmysheltered,Instagram-filteredworld.Notwithakidwhohasaholeinhisshirt.ButIneedthis.Needtofeeldesiredandprettyandwanted.
Hislipsflutterovermine,andittickles,soIsnort.Icanfeelhiswarmbreathskatingacrossmylips,hisbaseballcapgrazingmyforeheadandthewayhismouthslidesagainstmine,lipslockingwithuncertainty.Iforgettobreatheforasecond,myhandsonhisshoulders,butthensomethinginsidemebegsmetodartmytongueoutandreallytastehim.We’resuckingairfromeachother’smouths.We’redoingitallwrong.Mylipsopenforhim.Hisopen,too.MyheartispoundingsohardIcanfeelthebloodwhooshinginmyveinswhenhesays,“Notyet.I’lltakethat,too,butnotyet.”
Agroanescapesmylips.
“WhatwouldyouhaveaskedofmeifItooktheseaglass?”
“Tosavemeallyourfirsts,”hewhisperssomewherebetweenmyearandmouthashisbodybrushesawayfrommine.
Idon’twanttoopenmyeyesandletthemomentend.Buthemakesthechoiceforbothofus.Thewarmthofhisbodyleavesmineashetakesastepback.
Istilldon’thavethegutstoopenmymouthandaskforhisname.
Ten,fifteen,twentysecondspass.
Myeyelidsflutteropenontheirownaccordasmybodybeginstosway.
He’sgone.
Disoriented,Ileanagainstthetrashcan,fiddlingwiththestrapofmymother’sbag.FivesecondspassbeforeMomloopsherarmaroundmineoutofnowhereandleadsmetotheRangeRover.Mylegsflyacrossthepavement.Myheadtwistsback.
Blueshirt?Ballcap?Petallips?DidIimaginethewholething?
“Thereyouare.Thanksforthecoffee.What,noicedtealemonadetoday?”
AfterIfailtoanswer,weclimbintohervehicleandbuckleup.MomsiftsthroughherPradabagrestingonthecenterconsole.
“Huh.IswearItookfourlettersfromthemailboxtoday,notthree.”
Andthat’swhenithitsme—shedoesn’tknow.Viagotin,andshehasnoideathelettercametoday.Thenthisguytoreitapartbecauseitupsetme…
Kismet.Kiss-met.Fate.
Daddecidedtwoyearsagothathewastiredofhearingallthreegirlsinthehouseholdmoaning,“Oh,myGod,”sonowwehavetoreplacethewordGodwiththewordMarx,afterKarlMarx,adudewhowasapparentlyintoatheismorwhatever.IfeellikeGodorMarx—someone—sentthisboytohelpme.Ifhewereevenreal.MaybeImadehimupinmyheadtocometotermswithwhatIdid.
Iopenacompactmirrorandapplysomelipgloss,myheartracing.
“You’realwaysdistracted,Mom.Ifyoudroppedaletter,you’dhaveseenit.”
Mompouts,thennods.Intheminuteittakeshertostarttheengine,Irealizetwothings:
One—shewasexpectingthisletterlikehernextbreath.
Two—sheisdevastated.
“BeforeIforget,Lovebug,Iboughtyouthediaryyouwanted.”Momproducesathickblack-casedleathernotebookfromherPradabagandhandsittome.Inoticeditbefore,butIneverassumethingsareformeanymore.She’salwaysdistracted,buyingViaalltypesofgifts.
Aswerideinsilence,Ihaveanepiphany.
ThisiswhereI’llwritemysins.
ThisiswhereI’llburymytragedies.
Isnapthemirrorshutandtuckmyhandsintothepocketsofmywhitehoodie,whereIfindsomethingsmallandhard.Itakeitoutandstareatit,amazed.
Theorangeseaglass.
HegavemetheseaglasseventhoughIneveracceptedit.
Savemeallyourfirsts.
Iclosemyeyesandletafattearrolldownmycheek.
Hewasreal.
Question:Whogivestheirmostpreciousbelongingtoagirltheydon’tknow?
Answer:Thismotherfuckerrighthere.Printmean“I’mwithstupid”shirtwithanarrowpointingstraighttomydick.
Could’vesoldthedamnthingandtoppedoffVia’scellphonecredit.Nowthatship’ssailed.Icanspotitinthedistance,sinkingquickly.
TheworstpartisthatIknewnothingwouldcomeoutofit.Atfourteen,I’veonlykissedtwogirls.Theybothhadenormoustonguesandtoomuchsaliva.Thisgirllookedlikehertonguewouldbesmall,soIcouldn’tpassuptrying.
Buttheminutemylipstouchedhers,Ijustcouldn’tdoit.Shelookedkindofmanic.Sad.Clingy?Idon’tfuckingknow.MaybeIjustdidn’thavetheballs.Maybewatchingherthreetimesaweekfromafarparalyzedme.
Hey,howdoyouturnoffyourownmind?Itneedstoshutup.Now.
MyfriendKannonpassesmethejointonmyfrontporch.That’stheoneperkofhavingyourmomlivewithherdrug-dealingboyfriend.Freepot.Andsincefoodisscarcethesedays,I’lltakewhateverisonthetable.
AbunchofwannabegangstersinredbandanascrossoursideofthestreetwiththeirpitbullsandaboomboxplayingangrySpanishrap.Thedogsbark,yankingontheirchains.Kannonbarksrightbackatthem.He’ssohighhisheadmighthitafuckingplane.Itakeahit,thenhandCamilothejoint.
“I’lllendyoufiftysoyoucanmakethecall.”Camilocoughs.Heishugeandtanandalreadyhasimpressivefacialhair.Helookslikesomeone’sMexicandad.
“Wedon’tneedtocallanyone!”mytwinsisteryellsfromthegrassnexttous.Sheislyingfacedown,sobbingintotheyellowlawn.Ithinksheishopingthesunwillburnherintotheground.
“Arey’alldeaforsomething?!Ididn’tgetin!”
“We’lltakethemoney.”Iignoreher.Wehavetocalltheballetplace.Viacan’tstayhere.Itain’tsafe.
“Iloveyou,Penn,butyou’reapainintheass.”Shehiccups,pluckingbladesofgrassandthrowingtheminourdirectionwithoutliftingherhead.She’llthankmelater.Whensheisfamousandrich—doballerinasgetrich?—andI’mstillsittingherewithmydumbfriendssmokingpotandsalivatingoverlemon-hairedTodosSantosgirls.MaybeIwon’thavetostandonstreetcornersanddeal.I’mgoodatshit.Sportsandfightingmainly.CoachsaysIneedtoeatmoreproteinformuscleandmorecarbstogetsomebodyfat,butthat’snothappeninganytimesoonbecausemostofmymoneyisspentbuyingVia’sbusticketstoherballetclasses.
ItagalongbecauseI’mhellaworriedaboutherridingonthatbusalone.Especiallyinwinterwhenitgetsdarkearly.
“Ithoughtyousaidyoursister’sgood?Howcomeshedidn’tgetin?”Kannonyawns,movinghishandoverhislongdreads.Thesidesofhisheadareshaved,creatingablackman-bun.Ipunchhisarmsohardhecollapsesbackontherockingchairwithasilentscream,clutchinghisbicep,stillhardy-har-harring.
“Ithinkademonstrationisinorder.Chop-chop,Via.Showusyourmoves.”Camputs“Milkshake”byKelisonhisphone,ballingagumwrapperinhishandandthrowingitatthebackofherhead.
Hersobsstop,replacedwithcatatonicsilence.Iturnaround,scrubbingmychinbeforetwistingbacktoCamiloandswingingafistathisjaw.Ihearitunlockfromitsusualplaceandhimharrumphing
Dartingupfromthegrass,Viarunsintothehouseandslamsthedoorbehindher.I’mnotsurewhatbusinessshehassittinginthelivingroomwhenRhettishome,gripingaboutbeingtiredandhungry.Shewillprobablygetintoascreamingmatchwithhimandreturntotheporchwithhertailbetweenherlegs.Mymomistoohightointerfere,butevenwhenshedoes,shechoosesherboyfriend’sside.EvenwhenheusesVia’sleotards,whichherteacherbuysforher,toshinehisshoes.Hedoesthatoftentogetariseoutofher.Ondayssheshowsuptoclassinhertornleggingsandhand-me-downshirts,shespendsthebusridesobbing.ThoseareusuallythedayswhenIrubhisbriefsonthepublictoiletseatsinLibertyPark.
It’sincrediblytherapeutic.
“Handmethefifty.”IopenmypalmandturntoCam,whoslapsthebillintomyhandobediently.I’mgoingtobuymyselfandViaburgersthesizeofmyface,thentopthecreditonherphonesoshecancallMrs.Followhill.
IchargedownmystreettoIn-N-Out,CamiloandKannontrailingmelikethewind.Crackedconcreteandmuralsofdeadteenagerswearinghaloslinethestreet.Ourpalmtreesseemtohunchdownfromtheburdenofpoverty,leaningoverbuildingsthatareshortandyellowlikebadteeth.
Buttwentyminuteslater,thesatisfactionofclutchingapaperbagfilledwithgreasyburgersandfriesisoverwhelming.Via’sgonnaforgetallabouthermeltdownwhensheseesit.Ipushthedoortomyhouseopen,andthefirstthingIseemakesmedropthefoodtothefloor.
Mymother’sboyfriendisstraddlingmysisteronthecouch,hisjigglingbellypouringoutonherchest.Hepummelsherface,hissweaty,hairychestglisteningandhisarmflexingeverytimehedoes.Hisrippedjeansareunbuttoned,andhiszipperisallthewaydown.Sheiswheezingandcoughing,tryingtobreathe.Withoutthinking,Idashtowardthemandunplasterhimfromher.Herfaceisbloody,andshe’scroakingoutweakprotests,tellinghimthathe’sacheapbastard,andhekeepsyellingthatsheisathievingwhore.IgrabRhettbythecollarofhisshirtandpullhimfromher.Heswingswiththemomentum,fallingonthefloor.Ipunchhisfacesohard,thesoundofhisjawcrackingechoesaroundtheroom.Hewhipshisheadback,hittingthefloor.IspinbacktoVia,andallIseeisherbackassheslidesthroughherownblood,trippingtothedoor.Igrabherwrist,butshewigglesfree.Somethingfallsbetweenuswithasoftclick.Ipickitup,anditlookslikeatooth.JesusfuckingChrist.Heknockedhertoothout.
“I’msorry,”shesays,hervoicemuffledfromthebloodinhermouth.“I’msorry.Ican’t,Penn.”
“Via!”Icryout.
“Please,”sheyells.“Letmego.”
Itrytochaseher,slippinginthetrailofbloodsheleavesbehind.Myhandsarecoveredinitnow.Istandandstartforthestill-opendoor.Ahandsnatchesmebackandthrowsmeonthecouch.
“Notsoquick,littleasshole.Now’syourturn.”
Iclosemyeyesandletithappen,knowingwhyViahastorun.
Geographyisdestiny.
It’sbeenthreedayssinceViaranaway.
TwoandahalfsinceI’velastmanagedtostomachanythingwithoutthrowingitup(Pabstcounts,right?).
AfterRhettbeatherupforstealinghisphoneandtryingtocallLondon,I’mnotsurprisedsheain’tback.IknowbetterthantofuckwithRhett.Viaisusuallyevenmorecautiouswithhimbecauseshe’sagirl.Itwasamomentofweaknessonherpart,anditcosthermorethanshewaswillingtopay.
OnFridayafternoon,Ifindmyselfloiteringoutsideherballetclass,hopingshe’llappear.Maybeshe’scrashingatherteacher’shouse.Theyseemclose,butit’shardtotellsinceViaputsonamaskeverytimethebusweboardslidesintothecitylimitsofTodosSantos.Thefactshehasn’ttouchedbaseyetmakesmeheavewhenIthinkaboutit.I’mtellingmyselfshehasherreasons.
Atsix,pink-wearinggirlsstartpouringoutofthebuilding.IdawdlebytheshinyblackRangeRoverwithmyhandsinmypockets,waitingfortheteacher.Shecomesoutlast,wavingandlaughingwithabunchofstudents.Anothergirlwalksbesideher.ThegirlIkissed,tobeexact.ThegirlI’vebeenobsessingoverforayear,tobesuper-exact.Sheisbeautifulliketheshithanginginthemuseums.Inareallysad,distant,look-but-don’t-touchway.Itrektowardthem,andtheymeetmehalfway.Thegirl’seyeswiden,andshelookssidewaystoseeifanyoneelseisheretowitnessustalking.ShethinksI’mhereforher.
“Hi.”Shetuckshairbehindherears,hergazetravelingtoMrs.FollowhillinasilentI-swear-I-don’t-know-this-guyplea.
“Hey.”Ikillthebutterfliesinmystomachbecausenow’snottheplaceanddefinitelynotthetime,thenturntotheteacher.“Ma’am,mysister,Via,isinyourclass.Ihaven’tseenherinthreedays.”
Theteacher’seyebrowspinchtogetherasthoughIjustannouncedI’llbetakingashitonthehoodofhervehicle.ShetellstheblondetowaitinsidethegiantRangeRover,thentugsatmyarm,headingtowardanalleyway.Sandwichedbetweentwobuildings,shesortofforcesmetositdownonatallstep(dafuq?)andstartstalking.
“I’vebeencallingherfivetimesadayandleavingmessages,”shewhispershotlyinmyface.“Iwantedtoletherknowshe’dbeenacceptedtotheRoyalAcademy.Whentheletterneverarrived,Icalledthemtocheck.Everythingisinmotionnow.AsIsaidbefore,youneedn’tworryaboutthetuition.I’llbepayingthefee.”
Mynostrilsflare.Allthisinherfuture,andshecouldbelyinginaditchrightnow.GoddamnVia.Goddamnallpretty,volatilefourteen-year-oldgirls.
“Well,ma’am,thankyouforthegiftshe’llneverbeabletocashinonsincewecan’tfindher,”Irespectfullymockher.Butweisjustme.Momisoutofit—sheneverreallybotheredbouncingoutofherfirstdrugbingesomeyearsago—andRhettisprobablyhappyhehasonelessmouthtofeed.Whenthetruancyofficercalledfromschoolearlier,ItoldhimViawenttomyaunt’s,somethingmymotherlaterconfirmedwhenheshoweduponourdoorstep.Mom,wild-hairedandsuckingonacigaretteasifitwereanoxygenmask,neveronceaskedifitwastrue.IfIcallthepolice,they’lldumpbothourassesinfostercare.Maybetogether,butprobablynot.Ican’tletthathappen.Ican’tbeseparatedfromVia.
Mrs.Followhillstaresatmewithanexpressionasifshejustrealizedshecaughtastomachbug.SheisprobablywonderinghowIdarespeaktoherlikethat.Usually,I’mabitmoreuser-friendly.Thenagain,Idon’tusuallyhavetodealwithamissingsister.Icleanmymother’spukefromthewallsandclosethebathroomdooronRhettwhenhefallsasleeponthetoiletseat.Idon’tlookatgrown-upswiththesameairofreverenceherdaughterdoes.
“Whoa.”That’sallMrs.Followhillsays.
“Thanksfortheinsight.Haveanicelife.”Istandandswaggertowardthestreet.Shecatchesmyarmandyanksmeback.Itwistaroundtofaceher.
“Mydaughter…”Shelicksherlips,thenlooksdown,looksguilty.ThegirlisleaningagainsttheRover,staringatus,chewingonherthumbnail.“MydaughterandViahaven’tbeengettingalong.Itriedtoencouragethemtocommunicate,butthemoreIpushedthemtogether,themoretheyseemedtodislikeoneanother.IthinkIhadalettergomissinglastweek.Aletterthatcouldhavebeen…important.Idon’tevenknowwhyI’mtellingyouthis.”Sheletsoutabreath,shakingherhead.“IguessIjust…Idon’twanttoknow,youknow?Ihatethefactthatmymindisevengoingthere.”
Butmaybeitshould.
Theflashbackcrashesintomymemory.
Thepaperthathissedinherlittlefist.
Metakingitfromher.
Tearingitapart.
Throwingitintothetrashcan,watchingherfaceblossomintobliss.
Pouringthelemonadeontheremainsforgoodmeasurewhenherblueeyestwinkledtherequest.
Settingmysister’sdreamsonfire.
Kickingthisentirenightmareintomotion.
Myjawflexes,andItakeastepback.Ithrowonelastglanceatthechick,filingherintomemory.
Archiveunder:ShitList.
Revisitdocument:WhenI’mabletoruinher.
“SoVia’snotwithyou?”Myvoicehardensaroundthewords.Liketin.I’mdesperate.Ihavenolead.Iwanttoriptheworldaparttofindher,buttheworldisnotminetodestroy.Theworldjustcontinuesturningatthesamepace,becausekidslikeViaandme?Wedisappearallthetime,andnoonenotices.
Mrs.Followhillshakesherhead.Shehesitates,touchingmyarm.“Hey,whydon’tyoucomewithme?I’lldropDariaoffathome,andwecanlookforher.”
Daria.
Iturnaroundandstalktowardthebusstop,feelingstupidandhatefulandalive.MorealivethanI’veeverfelt.BecauseIwanttokillDaria.DariamadeeverythingfadeintothebackgroundthefirsttimeIsawher,andwhileIwasbusyadmiring,everythingaroundusburned.
Youlooklikeyoucoulduseafriend,Itoldher.Stupidboyishfaith.Imentallythrowitontothegroundandstomponitonmywaytothebusasitslidestothecurb.
Dariawasright.Iwaspathetic.Stupid.Blindedbyherhairandlipsandsweetmelancholy.
Makingabeelinetothebusstop,IhearMrs.Followhillyellingmynamebehindmeinthedistance.Sheknowsmyname.Sheknowsme.Us.Idon’tknowwhyitdisturbsme.Idon’tknowwhyIstillgiveafuckthatthisgirlknowsI’mpoor.
Ihoponthefirstavailablebus,notsurewhereitwilltakeme.
Asfarawayfromthegirl,butnotfarenoughfrommyself.
Theburninmychestintensifies,theholearoundmyheartgrowingbigger,andmygrandmotherwhispersinthebackofmymind.
SkullEyes.
GetPrettyRecklessnow!Standalones:
Tyed
Sparrow
BloodtoDust
MidnightBlue
DirtyHeadlines
TheKissThief
IntheUnlikelyEvent
SinnersofSaints(allinterconnectedstandalones):
Defy(SinnersofSaint#0.5–Novella)
Vicious(SinnersofSaint#1)
Ruckus(SinnersofSaint#2)
Scandalous(SinnersofSaint#3)
Bane(SinnersofSaint#4)
AllSaintsHigh:
PrettyReckless(#1)
BrokenKnight(#2)
AngryGod(#3)
BostonBelles:
TheHunter(#1)
TheVillainandtheVixen(#2)
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