Chapter Twenty
Selena
I’m sick enough I could vomit. Introducing me to the club? It’s a nightmare. The last thing I need to is to see any more of these people, to have them try to get friendly with me while I’m stuck here knowing what’s going to happen to them.
Lucky for me, any sort of decent news turns into a reason to drink. And I am more than ready for that.
I pay more attention to my glass while the five of us get to drinking. No matter what’s going on around me, no matter how decent the people in Jarrett’s club seem, I can’t take my mind off the deadline I’m under.
Some way, somehow, and soon, I have to find what I’m after.
With any luck, they’ll all be dead soon and I won’t have to deal with the aftermath.
Everyone’s at least three drinks in, except for Bear — he says he’s taking it easy because the mountain of papers in front of him are school applications and his wife, Roxy, will kill him if he screws them up — and I realize I’d probably really like Roxy if I were to meet her. Ozzy’s told at least a dozen stories about his family, half of which I can’t even follow and the other half involve either sheep or beer or both, when Jarrett looks over at me, face flushed.
“We still need to call that historical society about that place,” he mumbles.
“Historical society?” Bear says.
“Jarrett had the great idea to book that old train station for the charity thing,” I say, blinking to focus my blurry vision. Drunk and desperate is probably not the best time to make a call like this, but I have a feeling that ‘drunk and desperate’ is going to become my motto for the near term. Plus, it’s a welcome distraction from the bonding going on around me.
I can’t get close to these people, I remind myself for the thousandth time.
I take my phone out. A quick search online finds the number.
I call them and, it’s then I realize just how drunk I am. Thank god, it rings to voicemail, as it’d probably turn out seriously bad if I had to speak to a live person right now. Speaking slowly and deliberately enough that I wouldn’t be shocked if they think English is my seventeenth language, I give them my name, my phone number, and let them know I’m interested in reserving the old train station.
Then, I hang up and set my phone down on the table hard enough to topple everyone’s drinks. Liquor and beer roll over my phone and everywhere else. I get whiskey in my lap and stout on my shoes.
“Son of a bitch,” I scream. Probably louder than necessary.
“Relax, babe,” Jarrett says, drawing a surprised look from everyone at the table at the use of the word. A look that, thankfully, he’s buzzed enough not to catch. “It’s just a fucking phone.”
It might be just a fucking phone, but it’s emblematic of my life these last few years; I fuck up even the most basic tasks.
I pull in some air and steady myself. I’m supposed to be happy and excited to have a supportive group of not-fucking-evil people around me.
I need an excuse to get out of here.
“I’m just upset, honey, because if those historical society people call and my phone is dead, we’ll miss out on booking the place. We’re trying to do it last minute enough as it is, the last thing we need to do is screw up our chances even more.”
He nods, drunkenly.
“She’s right, mate,” Ozzy adds. “I was in the same situation a few years ago. My cousin Reggie and I wanted to rent a lighthouse. Had phone troubles, missed some important calls and missed out on renting it. I actually ended up leaving my phone out on the Coromandel after a drunken weekend at my mate’s bach. Took a few days to find it — had to use one of that ‘find my phone’ apps — and by then it was too late.”
“Why the hell were you trying to rent a lighthouse?” Bear says.
“To surprise some cousins of mine with a party. They were on a sailing trip and we knew where they were supposed to land. Lighthouses are good for parties. They actually have really good lighting systems, believe it or not.”
“Could that be why they’re called ‘lighthouses’?” Sam says.
“Now that you mention it, I reckon you’re right.”
“Here, take my phone, call them back and leave them my number as a backup,” Jarrett says, shoving his phone into my hands, mumbling the password, and then he turning his attention to Ozzy. “Yeah, seriously, a fucking lighthouse?”
I get up and head outside, just as Ozzy launches into a story about something called a waka and people sailing from Fiji. Outside, I unlock his phone and my objective slaps me right in the face. It’s all laid out on the screen in front of me. Location. Times. Security.
My hands are shaking. This is what I’m looking for. Some time goes by where I just stare at the phone. All I need to do is send a text to a number I know by heart and I’ll be done. I’ll be done and I’ll be free.
I can get my son back.
And I’ll be alone in this world except for Jake. Just as I’m finding a family, just as I’m finding people to replace everyone I lost to the Devil’s Riders and the Bloody Jackals down in Reno.
I’m going to get them all killed.
This is the second family those Jackals will have taken from me.
Tears fall from my cheeks, splashing to the concrete and shimmering on the screen of the phone, as I swipe my shaking finger across the screen.
I hate myself right now.
I hate every step that led me to this day. Every selfish choice, every cocky, over-confident decision.
For years, I’ve been my own worst enemy. And today is no different.
Still, I send the message.
Then, I delete the evidence and, with a battered voice, I call the historical society and leave a message that probably sounds like I’m a hostage who managed to sneak a phone while her captors left to go get groceries.
I need to scream.
Every step forward I take in life, I end up throwing myself two steps back with my stupid choices. Just as I wind up with Jarrett again and find him starting to put some of the many broken pieces of his life together, I have to shatter it all. Just as I find a group that could accept me as part of their family, I have to go and get them all killed.
“Are you alright?” It’s a familiar voice, but it’s alien in how caring it sounds. “Selena, what’s wrong?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. I turn around.
He’s there. And the smile on his face is enough to break my heart.
He doesn’t know what’s coming.
I do the one thing I know how to do. The one thing I’m good at.
I run.