Chapter Nine - Cindy
It’s an afternoon of silence and whatever the word is for non-silence. It’s not that we’re quiet, because nothing about us is quiet. And it’s not like we don’t talk, because we never seem to stop talking. But we’re silent in all the ways that matter. The past is closed up and put away. The future isn’t even here yet, so there is no reasonable way for it to interfere.
He calms me though. Tethers me to the ground like one of the weights draping over the side of those giant hot air balloons. All my wanderlust tendencies seem to disappear under his scrutiny. He looks at me like he knows me. But of course, he doesn’t, since I’ve told so many lies, even I’m having trouble knowing who I am.
We go inside after a few hours of meaningless conversation and have sex on the kitchen counter. It’s slower this time. I sit there, my legs wrapped around his middle as he kisses my neck and makes me come.
We take a shower and he fucks me again, this time pressed up against the cold tile wall. Afterward, we nibble on crackers and cheese and a plate of cucumbers he sliced, since his fridge doesn’t have much in the way of food. And I can see him watching the clock, wanting me to leave before his business arrives, and not wanting to tell me to leave so he can do business.
So I woman up and do the right thing.
“I’m going to go home and get cleaned up.” All I have in the way of clothing is the bikini I came here in, so I’m putting the top back on in the master bedroom when I make this announcement.
“Where will you go after that?” he asks.
“Where will you go?”
I get a shrug. “I’m not sure yet. I might need to leave for this job.”
“I’d hope you’d take me with you, since, you know, I work for you now.”
We both smile at that.
“The detective smiles,” I say. “Like the thought escaped him. But now that it’s back, it was like it never left.”
“That’s weird, you know. Narrating shit like that. Making us into some kind of story.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think that’s why I like you.”
“The careless part?” I ask, wondering how we got this way overnight. Wondering if it’s a good or bad sign that we fell into each other’s arms like old friends or old lovers.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the wall in front of the stairs that lead down to the living room. “No,” he corrects. “Not careless. Careful, but uncaring.”
“We are two of the most unsolvable riddles ever, Mr. Vance.”
“I think I like that about us, Miss Vaughn.”
“Well,” I say. “I know where to find you.”
“Do you?”
I nod. “I do. Thanks for a great time, Pax. I’ll see you later.”
I go down the steps and I’m just about to turn towards the pool and walk to the front house when he calls out after me.
“Cinderella?”
“Cindy,” I say, stopping to look up at him. “You can just call me Cindy.”
“Cindy.” He smiles. “You didn’t turn into a pumpkin last night.”
“No,” I say, feeling sad and happy at the same time. “I might have on someone else’s ball gown at the moment. But I’m real. I swear.”
I turn away feeling off. I walk a few houses down to where I parked my car last night, the hot concrete stinging my bare feet, and get in. I sit there for a few seconds, ignoring the fact that I came here to party with one guy and went home with another. I don’t feel bad about it. Not at all. I came to Malibu for one thing and one thing only and that was Mr. Mysterious.
I got him.
But now what? What to do with him is the only thing on my mind.
I start the car and drive up to the front gates of Malibu Colony and ten minutes later I’m five miles up PCH and turning into the beach-side campground. I pull into the parking spot next to my camper and sit there for a minute, sweat rolling down my back in the stifling heat of the late afternoon, and watch the minutes tick off on the dashboard clock.
I get out, eventually, and make my way inside. I grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slip my feet into the sneakers I use to… well, sneak, and drive back to Malibu Colony. There’s no parking on the street, so I take up my usual spot by Buster’s and jog down into the Colony by way of the public beach access path. I’m three doors down from Paxton’s house, sitting on the street-side porch of the place we used to escape the party last night, when a silver Mercedes parks in front of Pax’s house and an older gentleman gets out, looks around with either nervousness or caution, buttons his dark gray suit coat, walks up to the door, and rings the bell.
A few seconds later he steps out of view and I start walking in that direction.
“Hey,” a voice calls from behind me.
Shit. I turn and smile at one of the party guys. I can’t keep their names straight. Tyler, or Matthew, or Thomas. One of them is calling after me.
“Oh, hey,” I say, forcing my feet not to shuffle in impatience. I’m missing part of that meeting right now. I need to get rid of this guy.
“What happened—”
“Are you having another party tonight?” I interrupt. “Because last night was a bust.”
“Sorry about that,” he says, a sheepish smile on his face. “Yeah, sure. We have parties every weekend. Are you coming back?”
“Definitely,” I say.
“Are you dating that guy again?”
“I told you before…” Matthew. I think he’s Matthew. “We’ve been dating forever. We’re just one of those on-and-off kind of couples.”
“So you’re on now?”
Fucking men and their stupid jealous gene. “No. He took me to his place last night when the cops came, but I left immediately and forgot… my earrings. The nice ones. I need them back. That’s all. What time should I come by tonight? For the party?”
He looks like he has more questions. Maybe he’s even observant and knows I wasn’t wearing earrings last night. But my question stops that line of thought and refocuses it on something unrelated to the mysterious man down the street.
“How about nine?”
“How about I’ll see you then?”
He nods towards Pax’s house. “Want me to go get those earrings for you? So you don’t have to bother?”
“I got it, thanks.” I give him a little wave as his buddies start calling his name from inside their house.
Go back inside, I pray. And my luck holds, because when I get to Pax’s front door, he’s gone.
A few weeks ago I broke in and stole Paxton’s house keys, had a copy made, and then returned them. Since then I’ve been making frequent visits. I slip the key in the door as quietly as I can, but I’m confident they are on the beach side of the house, so way out of earshot. And then I sneak inside.
I tiptoe inside the foyer and softly down the steps that lead to the pool.
“I don’t think so,” Pax says from the living room. I freeze, and realize I’ve missed something. Shit. Probably something important.
“Why not?” the visitor asks.
“Because I just don't think he’s like that. He’s not that kind of guy.”
“I don’t think you know one single grain of truth about that guy’s life.”
I slink past the tall palm trees, then back into a corner just on the other side of the entrance to the beach side of the house.
“So you’ve said,” Pax replies. There’s a clinking of ice in glasses, like they’re having drinks. “So you’ve hinted over the years. But you know what, Liam? You never do anything more than hint.”
“I’ve never had reason to.” He pauses. “Until now.”
“And what’s changed?”
“He’s been… doing things out of character.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” But the pause this time is extended.
“Like?” Pax urges.
“Like not paying his debts.”
“He owes you something? Since when?”
“He’s owed me his whole life, Vance. Like I said. You have no idea who he is. Did it ever occur to you that he might’ve been the guilty one?”
A laugh from Pax. “No.”
“No?”
“Never. I always thought Nolan was guilty. He acted guilty as hell. Weston never acted guilty. Little things like rape charges don’t bother powerful people like Weston Conrad, but even so, he’s not the guilty one.”
Mr. Corporate. They’re talking about Mr. Corporate.
“Then who? You?”
More ice clinking inside glasses. A pause. Then, “Say that again, old man, and I’ll do something about it.”
A half snort, half laugh from this Liam guy. Like he finds that notion ridiculous. “No need. I don’t think it was you. Your mother didn’t raise you that way.”
What the fuck is going on here?
They definitely know each other. But what is this about?
“No,” Paxton says. “She didn’t.”
“But,” Liam says, “you’re one half Charles Vance as well.” And then laughter. Like uproarious laughter.
I get a chill up my spine.
“He didn’t raise me, as you well know.”
“No. He never raised any of them, did he?”
“You wanna tell me why you’re here?” Pax says, his voice dangerous now. Like he’s out of patience.
Yes, please. I’m dying to know.
“I told you,” Liam says. “I need Weston Conrad… taken care of.”
Pax is silent for so long, I chance a peek around the corner of the wall.
Shit. I slink back immediately. He was looking right at me. I peek again and he smiles. Liam’s back is to me, so he doesn’t see what Paxton is looking at. “What exactly does that entail?”
“You just… make him disappear.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“Try bait, Mr. Mysterious. I hear it’s your favorite method.” Liam stands and I ease back into my corner. “So do we have a deal? Will ten million dollars erase this ridiculous blood bond you have with the rest of your accomplices?”
Accomplices? What?
“I’ll think about it. I just got a call not twenty minutes ago from someone else, so I can’t do anything until that’s over. They paid in advance.”
“Well, I’m not paying you in advance.”
“Then I’ll be in touch. And let you know when I’m free.”
“Don’t keep me waiting too long,” Liam says. “If you say no, I’ll just find someone else to do it.”
And then there’s the sound of expensive shoes on the hardwood floors. They come towards me. I freeze, not even half hidden behind the thin trunk of a plan tree, holding my breath, my eyes tracking them as they pass.
Pax doesn’t look at me—neither does Liam—and they continue past the pool and up the stairs into the street side of the house.
I bolt out of the corner and go up into the beach-side living room, hoping that Liam guy didn’t decide to look over his shoulder at the wrong moment.
“So you’re spying on me?”
I whirl around, surprised Pax is back here so fast. He must’ve practically shoved that guy out the door. “What the hell was that about?” I have so many questions. My obsession with Paxton never had anything to do with my brother, Oliver. But they were talking about the Misters. Something to do with Mr. Corporate. And if there’s one Mister involved, that means all the Misters are involved. Including my brother. “You were talking about Mr. Corporate.”
“No,” Pax says. “I’m talking about what you’re doing sneaking into my house, listening in on my private business. I’ve hurt people very badly for far less serious transgressions, Cindy.”
“We’re partners—”
“We’re fuck buddies.”
“Huh,” I say, disgusted at his characterization of last night. “OK. Fine. We’re fuck buddies and partners.”
“I didn’t hire you, Miss Vaughn. I’ve been humoring you. I think it’s cute. And I wanted to fuck you. Or… I did. Until you stuck your nose into things that don’t smell good. None of this is your business.”
I stay silent. Reconsider my options. Pax is not one of those guys who allows himself to be manipulated very easily. One inkling that he’s being played and he either walks away or starts playing the game with me. There is no in between with him from what I can see. He does this with every casual relationship I’ve watched him in.
They are all one-night stands or players in his game.
Which am I?
I could tell him the truth—I’m Oliver’s baby sister—and everything would be fine. I’d be in, no questions asked. Someone he’d probably confide in. Trust immediately.
But I’m not here because of Oliver. I’m here for him. And if I told him who I was, there’d be no chance of ever becoming his girlfriend. Ever.
So I play the only card I have.
“How about we settle this with… a game?”