LET’S TALK ABOUT IT AT Mayra’s office.
Mayra was helping Darren.
That much, I was sure of. To what extent, I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, because she was my fucking therapist, and therefore was breaking a gazillion codes.
I drove around in circles for a while. My thoughts were divided and split in the middle. Fifty percent of me wanted to make a U-turn and get back into Bane’s arms, opening up to him, begging him to help me, using his connections to make sure Darren and the boys would never get anywhere near an innocent soul again, and fifty percent debated whether I should march into Mayra’s office and confront her or not.
The decision came to me when I finally parked my car, realizing that I’d parked it in the same spot as on the first day I’d met Bane. I stepped out and rehashed every single meeting I’d had with Mayra. Little snippets of our conversations chipped at my memory.
You could have lost your virginity in plenty of ways.
Best not to think about it.
You really should be moving on.
Darren is a lovely person, Jesse. You should let him take care of you and your mother.
Hypnosis? Oh, absolutely not, Jesse! You do not want to lose control. I’m afraid it will lead to a downward spiral.
I got back to my car, my foot bouncing as I looked left and right. I saw Bane’s Harley parked a few rows down from my vehicle and knew that he was watching me. Somehow, I couldn’t find it in me to be pissed. He was looking after me, but he knew better than to approach me.
I took out my phone. My messages were out of control.
Pam
Darren is missing. Come back home.
Pam
I really don’t have time for this, Jesse. We need to talk about this ASAP. I have a manicure between three and four. Any other time is good.
Gail
Chunky Monkey and McMafia date when I finish my shift. Don’t do anything stupid (like going back to your parents’ house. Or…Bane, LOL).
Unknown Number (Maybe: John Beck)
Have you heard from Bane? I’m trying to find the fucker everywhere.
Unknown Number (Maybe: Hale Rourke)
Hey. It’s Hale. Bane is not answering his phone and we have a business meeting in half an hour. Can you ping him?
I didn’t answer any of them. Instead, I opened another text message.
Jesse
Hey, Kacey, it’s Jesse. Some things came up and I can’t visit Juliette this week. What are your plans?
She answered immediately.
Kacey
Booked our flight for Thursday. We’ll be taking it from here. I’ll come back to Todos Santos probably next month to bring Imane and her nurse with us and work out the details with you. Thank you, Jesse. For everything.
My heart was somersaulting in my chest, reminding me that I was still alive.
I loved that Mrs. B was finally going to get what she deserved—her family back. Even though a part of me, and not a small part, was dying a slow death trying to come to terms with the idea that I would no longer have her by my side.
I had nowhere to go. Nowhere to live. No job. No friends. No lead on what to do with my life. And that felt…oddly okay. Liberating, even. I was going to focus on building something of my own. Something that was completely mine.
The first thing I did was drive to All Saints High. It was the middle of a school day, so I had to ask for permission to take pictures with my phone.
“What for?” Principal Gabe Prichard sneered, not even bothering to lift his eyes from his paperwork sitting behind his desk. He was ridiculously young for his position, and this was his first year at All Saints High. Tall, dark, handsome, and disgustingly standoffish, the rumors said he’d completed his BA at the tender age of nineteen and was some sort of an educational maverick. As he asked me this, a trail of fangirls-slash-schoolgirls was standing behind me, waiting to be seen for whatever trouble they’d gotten themselves into purposely.
“A project.” I remained vague.
“What kind of project?” He frowned, finally meeting my eyes. I nibbled at my lower lip, looking shy and wholesome and all the things I needed to be. He hadn’t been here when I graduated. He didn’t know how bad things had been for me.
“For a photography class,” I finally lied.
He nodded. “No faces or students. No teachers. No staff. Nothing personal or intimate. Understood?”
Oh, it was going to be personal. But just for me. “Yes, sir.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon squatting next to a bench under a tree, where Jesse Carter is a SLUT was carved into the wood, and in the gymnasium, where the mirror was still cracked at the edge from when Wren’s friend, Ivory, tried to punch me and missed. I took pictures of every single piece of evidence there was. Most of it was still there, overlooked, much like my existence to the teachers after The Incident. High school is a great place to murder a soul. The deities don’t care, and the mortals are too busy trying to survive.
I dug out the buried underwear Emery had stolen from my drawer and showed everyone, with the stain of my arousal from after we’d made out before things blew up.
The taunts. The laughs. The torment. It was all there, between these walls, in the courtyard. In my heart.
By the time I got out of there, it was close to six in the evening. I drove down to a taco shack and bought myself a foil-wrapped dinner. I knew money was going to be tight and was contemplating asking Mrs. Belfort for a little cash, even though the idea made my stomach toss. I refused Bane’s check, trying to prove a point, but now I couldn’t even afford a Kit Kat. I found myself driving to El Dorado despite my best intentions. I had to pack a bag. I couldn’t walk around in Gail’s weird clothes. Besides, after the text message I had sent Darren, I very much doubted they were going to give me more crap.
I parked in front of the mansion and opened the door. The only sounds noticeable were the crickets outside and the fridge producing some ice. I called Pam’s name a few times, not wanting to be ambushed, and when no one answered, relief washed over me. I proceeded with caution straight into my bedroom and filled my two bags with my stuff. I brought the bags down to my vehicle, about to climb behind the steering wheel, before I slapped my thigh.
The Captain’s Daughter. I needed to take the book with me. It had belonged to my dad, and who knew what these two would do to it? It was the only thing I had left of his.
The classics were all kept in Darren’s office library, because Pam believed “the staff” could get their hands on them and sell them to the highest bidder. Stupid, considering she was the staff not too long ago. No matter. I knew that there was no chance in hell Darren was in his office. He had a monitor that showed all the cameras recording around the house, streaming live. He would have seen me by now and tried to explain himself.
Debating myself for a fraction of a second, I decided, screw it. My dad was more important than Darren, Pam, and their bullshit. I headed back into the house, this time to Darren’s office.
The problem, I realized seconds after I opened the door, was that you always feel sorry for yourself until you realized things could get much worse. They say it’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie. I wanted to drown in lies after I opened that door and saw him.
Darren.
Or, what was left of him.
I gripped the door handle, struggling for breath. I’d wondered so many times over the past twenty-four hours what it would feel like coming face-to-face with him, but I never thought it would be like this.
He was lying facedown on the floor, blood running like a river around him. At first, I was too shocked to react. I simply stood there, quivering like a leaf in fall. There was a Glock still clutched between his fingers. The scene looked fresh. And real. And tragic.
I picked up my phone and called nine-one-one. I delivered the news flatly, giving them all the details that they needed. They told me to remove myself from the room and not to touch anything. I went downstairs, swallowed down two Kit Kats (mainly so I could function, I had very little appetite), and downed a bottle of water. I sat in the living room, my foot bouncing, wondering where the hell was Pam. I thought about calling Roman and Gail, but knew I needed to see this one through by myself. Gail was already doing too much for me, and calling Roman was inviting trouble.
He’d screwed me over so badly, the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about him frustrated me to no end.
The police arrived at the scene six minutes later: two detectives and a harem of badged staff. I was pretty much out of it, so I couldn’t really distinguish who was who.
“I just want to leave here. I’m not his real daughter. We had a fight last time we spoke.” Didn’t they tell you in movies not to say anything without a lawyer? I wished I had someone as savvy as Bane to sit by my side and talk me through this.
The truth disturbed me to no end. While I was shocked by Darren’s death, I wasn’t saddened by it. I felt no sympathy for the man who had ruined my future, not once but twice. Who had taken something so precious from me, and didn’t even have the guts to admit it.
The cops deemed it a classic suicide from the beginning due to his position and the angle in which he’d been shot. There was even a suicide note—because, of course, Darren always had to do things right and proper.
I’M DONE.
They took my statement of what happened and then Pam came in and started screaming. At this point, she had established herself as background noise, so I treated her as such and ignored her completely. A detective who looked like the human version of Peter Griffin from Family Guy asked me if I needed a ride anywhere, adding that it might not be the best idea to drive after what I’d seen, but I told him that I was okay, because I was, even though I wished I hadn’t been.
I wished I could feel sadness and compassion. I wished I hadn’t prayed it had happened sooner, before Darren had ruined my life.
When I got to Gail’s, I told her what had happened. She looked at me like I was a freak, her eyes wide and haunted.
“You must think that I’m the biggest jinx ever,” I said. But Gail shook her head quickly.
“No. I think you had some really shitty things happen to you, and that they’re coming to an end, sooner than you think. Good things are ahead of you, Jesse. You just need to look.”