Chapter Eighteen - Harper
I drew him a harp. Right in the middle of all the other instruments.
This makes me smile even though so much shit’s going wrong in my life right now. Finding out that James is the man from the beach all those years ago is gonna require a lot of thinking on my part. How do I feel about that? What are his intentions? I have a lot of questions but right now I allow myself to smile.
When I finally told him my name out there under the pier, it was a very special moment for him. A moment he’d waited almost thirteen years for. And it felt special to me too.
He’d smiled. I like it, he’d said.
And back when we turned Six, James stayed that whole day for my party. He sat across from me at the table. He clapped when Nick and I blew out our candles. He handed me another present when we were alone later. A set of colored pencils to draw in my new notebook.
That night I drew a picture and I wished the green-eyed man Happy Six Day. I hope you’ll be my friend, I wrote at the end in my childish handwriting.
The next morning he was gone. And so was my notebook.
I cried for days over that loss. Even though my six-year-old self could not understand why, my eighteen-year-old-self can.
I fell in love with him that day on the beach. Maybe it was only a childhood crush, but it felt real.
My mind wanders back to my father during this period. He left James with Nick and me all day. We didn’t even have a nanny, just James. And later, after we were back on the ship and the celebrations were coming to a close, Nick was carried off to our room after falling asleep on the observation deck. But James stayed behind with me. Just a few more minutes. That’s all we had. James spent the entire day with me. We turned Six together.
I hold the notebook, praying to whomever is in charge of wish-granting that there is something inside this notebook. Something more than this little drawing by me. And for once, as I turn the page, my wish is granted.
I almost have a moment of regret. Like I used up something special asking for the handwriting inside this book.
But then I read the first page and I know, if I’m never granted another wish in my life, it was worth it.
Because it says…
Dear Lionfish,
I hope you had a happy Six Day. I stole your gift. You’ll probably cry when you find it missing tomorrow, so I’m sorry about that. But I need your innocent words to remind me why I do what I do. Why I will become what I will become. And why I had to tell your father no. I hope one day you’ll understand.
There is no name, but at the bottom of the page he says:
P.S. I’ve been thinking about it and sea grass is still pretty boring. But I might like to give boring a try.
James. How could I have forgotten him? I knew he felt familiar, and one day twelve years ago is not grounds for remembering. But all the things that made him special to me that day made him special to me under the pier too. There’s so many things to process with this one short note, but then I flip the page and find more.
And more, and more, and more. Every page of this notebook is filled with his block-style handwriting. The entire book is nothing but uncensored James.
I flip back to the second entry and read the date. My birthday. One year later. There’s a picture of me stuck between the pages, taken from a distance from the blurriness, but it’s clear enough to make me smile. I had on a floppy orange hat. I remember it so well. It was made out of denim and I thought was the coolest thing. Add in my white sunglasses and my green bathing suit and I was a statement in second-grade fashion.
Dear Lionfish,
I guess I have to watch you from a distance since I turned down the Admiral last year. But that’s OK. I’m used to it. Everything I do in life is from a distance. And since I’m only seventeen, I’ve got a lot of long-distance living ahead of me. I hope your year has gone better than mine. I’m glad you have no idea what really happens in this world, because I’d die a little inside if you knew. My little sister is gone. My mother had a breakdown, and my father ignores us. My first eight assassinations are history. I was shot twice, tortured once, left for dead, and rescued.
I guess the only thing that matters this year was the rescue.
I appreciate the rescue. They tell us not to get attached to each other. The other hunters are not supposed to be our friends. Never, ever has a face looked so friendly as One’s when he came to get me. And now I have a debt I might not be able to pay.
Your friend,
Six
There is another date and another entry the next year.
Dear Lionfish,
I need to get this out in case you ever read this. I didn’t come here to spy on you from afar. I was ordered by your father. It seems he has a hard time accepting no for an answer. So my assignment is to sit in this restaurant and watch you play on the beach. I’m good and drunk right now, so I apologize for my sloppy writing. But accepting someone’s daughter as payment is more than even my assassin’s soul can handle.
I do not want you.
I will never want you.
Six
Good God, I didn’t expect resentment. I close the book and all those happy thoughts I had a minute ago are gone. He doesn’t want me. My heart beats fast again and I take a few deep breaths to calm it. Harper, be reasonable, that inner voice says. That was a long time ago. He was very young.
Eighteen.
He was eighteen that year. Not a kid anymore. And not a novice assassin either.
I take the book over to the couch and settle back against the plush light green cushions. He has a thing for green. The house is the same color outside. I open the book to the fourth entry. My birthday three years later.
Dear Lionfish,
Once again, your asshole father sentences me to baby-watching. Once again you play on the beach. And once again I sit here and think about how many people are dead this year because of me. Ten. Ten more people added to my tally. You’re still a cute little blonde girl. How old now, nine? I’m nineteen. A fucking man. You know what I was doing for my last birthday? Take one guess.
This year I was invited to a private island. Right across from the one you’re on. Your father left me binoculars and I resisted watching you for almost the entire day. But the islands are not that far apart and I heard your squealing laughter when they brought out the cake.
And now I can’t take my eyes off you.
I don’t want you.
No amount of innocent smiles will make me love you. Because you are everything wrong with this dirty, dark fucked-up life I live.
Six
I have to swallow down the bile rising up from my stomach as I finish.
Surely he didn’t feel this way every year. Did he?
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Dear Lionfish
Seven years pass and with each letter, the words are more venomous and hateful. But the last entry is not addressed to me and it was not on my birthday. It’s dated a few months ago.
Dear Amber,
Let every life I take in your name be the proof of my love.
James
I don’t know why, but the fact that he signed his name James instead of Six hurts more than the love part. Because this Amber person meant something to him. More than me, that’s for sure.
I disgust him. My age especially—he made that clear in letter after letter. When he told me back in Huntington that he was not bothered by my age, I knew he was lying. But this? This is much more than being bothered.
It’s almost… repulsion.
I’m just a lionfish.
What did he say to me back in Huntington? The pretty girl with the poison daggers poking through her skin.
That’s how he sees me. For real. He’s here for one of two reasons. To take me back to my father or to take me for himself. And I’m not sure I like either option. Because from the way it’s looking, he’s got no real feelings for me beyond what I can do for him.
I’m just a way forward into revenge.
I think back to the message from Nick. We’ll talk soon, he’d said. Nick is the one I trust. Not James. And if Nick knows where I am, then I’m not in any danger from James. Nick would not leave me some place to get hurt. He’d give me instructions to follow and get me to safety. So, if he didn’t give me bug-out instructions, I need to stay put.
I stick the little notebook in my pocket. I really do not want to have that conversation with James. At all. I don’t want to hear the excuses. I don’t want to hear the fake promises he has ready for me, should I stop being compliant. I don’t want to watch his face when he lies.
He will lie. I’ve always known he was lying, didn’t I? I’ve always felt it.
And when he does lie…
I reach into my pants and pull out the gun.
I’ll be ready.