IT WAS JUST moments before Peter wrenched the door open. I raced behind a lounge chair and picked up a heavy deck umbrella. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but at least it was something. I clutched it in front of me so hard my arm muscles ached.
Peter came toward me, still holding the hammer. His face was an evil snarl. He walked with an unsteady gait, as if his legs had been weakened by the run. He was breathing just as hard as I was, but his breath wasn’t coming out like asphalt. It was belching out of him in outraged feathery fern and ink. The wind blew my hair across my face, and I tossed my head to get it out of my line of sight.
I swung the umbrella at him with everything I had. I missed by miles, of course, but it slowed him down. I walked backward, knowing that before too long I would be up against the ship’s rail and would be out of options. I would have to fight back or die.
“I should have known,” he said, his hand tightening around the hammer so that I could hear his skin creak against the wood. “I should have known it would be you. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, Nikki. You couldn’t leave Luna alone.”
I swung the umbrella at him again. “Everyone thinks Luna’s long gone.”
“She could have been,” he spat. “After that shitty studio in Vegas turned her down, we found the perfect actress. Such a resemblance, and easy to get rid of. We spent thousands on cheekbones and a nose job. The transformation was perfection, and finally she had what she always wanted. A chance in Hollywood. That was all she wanted—a chance. And first her bitch stepsister took that from her. And then you. You took that from her. She was starting over. And you’re back. You won’t be satisfied until we kill you, too.” He swung the hammer and missed.
“I wasn’t following Luna,” I said. A small lie. I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. I was only sure that it was buying me time. “I was following you.”
He paused but only a little. “Why?”
I swung the umbrella, twice. “You know who killed my mother,” I said. “You were there. I wanted to know if it was my father.”
He stopped for real this time, lowered the hammer, and laughed. “Milo?” He laughed again. “Milo couldn’t put a match out with a fire hose. No, he didn’t kill her.”
“Bill Hollis, then,” I said. My arms were killing me.
His face drew itself into a hateful line. “No. Believe it or not, Bill Hollis did not run the entire world. Even if he thought he did.”
I shook my head, uncomprehendingly. “Then who?” I asked.
“She was mine,” he bellowed.
“My mother?”
“No, you stupid girl. I didn’t want your used-up mother. Vanessa was mine. I would have done anything for her. And I did.” He pounded the air with the hammer as he talked. “I supported her. I ruined careers for her. I hurt people for her. Anything she asked for. We were Vanessa and Peter. We were VP.”
Candy cane and mustard lit up in my mind. He wasn’t the vice president of anything. He was still holding a torch for Vanessa Hollis.
“And then she left me. Met that bastard, Bill Hollis, and left me. Hired that moron Basile and he started doing my job. I was out, stuck with a snot-nosed kid who looked exactly like the woman I wanted. The one I rightfully deserved.” He pointed to his chest with the hammer. The movement startled me, and I thrust the umbrella forward again.
“I don’t understand,” I said. Wind pushed my hair across my face; it stuck to my bottom lip. “What does this have to do with my mother?”
“She should’ve stayed gone. Your mother should have stayed gone. But she came back. Your father burned down the set and Bill Hollis made her come back as his personal whore. And God knew what that man wanted he always got.” He pounded the air with the hammer again, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth. “Trust me, I was happy that Carrie came back, but Vanessa was jealous. She cried on my shoulder.” He pointed the hammer at himself again. “Mine. Not Bill Hollis’s. Mine. I had her back. And then Carrie went away again—well, we all know why now, don’t we? We all know about Peyton. But at the time, nobody knew. She just disappeared. And the minute she left, Vanessa forgot that I existed. Went right back to Bill, as if he gave even an ounce of shit about her. Not like I did.”
“My mom didn’t steal him,” I said. “She was blackmailed by him.”
“I wish she would have!” he yelled. He began advancing on me again. I tensed the umbrella again. “If she would have stolen him, maybe Vanessa would have given up on him. Instead, when your mother came back again, Vanessa came to me. She wanted me to make her go away for good.”
“You? You’re the one who killed her?”
He pressed the hammer against his lips as his eyes smoldered through the memory. “I did everything Vanessa ever wanted.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek. My poor mother had been trapped by Bill Hollis. She had no way out, just like I had no way out here. Would we both die by the same man? Trapped by Hollis lies? “You didn’t have to kill her.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to scare her, make her and Milo leave town. I didn’t want to kill her,” he said. “Until I looked into her face and saw . . . I saw Vanessa. I saw someone who was willing to do anything—even betray the man who would die for her—for Bill Hollis. She betrayed Milo the same way Vanessa betrayed me, all for that man. Next thing I knew I was bashing her head in with a tire iron. She was gone, and Vanessa was happy. And for the rest of her life, I kept Vanessa happy. I was there for her to run to when things were going wrong.”
“She wasn’t worth it,” I said. I swung the umbrella again, but my swings were getting worse. My hands were getting numb. My arms were getting weak. “The world is better off without her.”
He growled and came at me, swinging.
“No, Nikki,” I heard. “The world would be better off without you.” Luna had come up the stairs. She stretched her arms out to her sides and posed. “What do you think? Am I the most amazing actress or what?” Her features softened as she rested her hand over her heart. “Thank you all for coming to my premiere. Those of you who know me know what a long road it’s been from Albany to here. But I believed.” She burst out laughing. “You should see your face. It’s like you’re seeing a ghost. Boo.” She fake-lunged at me, and I jumped, bringing the umbrella up. Now I was trying to keep an eye on both Peter and Luna. “You kind of are seeing one, actually. The ghost of that big loser Celeste Day. If she weren’t glugging around at the bottom of the ocean as of a few days ago when my last surgery was healed, she would be thanking me for putting her on the map. Right, Daddy?”
I thought about the girl in the makeup chair back at Pear Magic. Was Luna saying what I thought she was saying? Was Celeste Day gone? Had Luna killed her? “You won’t get away with it,” I said.
“Already have. Daddy’s plan was brilliant. Find a nobody actress who has no ties back home and give her a role.” She made a scissors motion with her fingers by her face. “A little injection here and there, a centimeter or so off the nose, some contacts, great stylist, and the nobody actress can disappear without anyone knowing the difference.” Again, she posed. It was uncanny, hearing Luna’s voice, seeing Luna’s eyes behind this strange face. She’d always been so good at imitating other people—especially Peyton—but this was creepy. “I hate being a brunette, but I’ll be a famous brunette. Finally. Fuck Hollis and his plans. He was too slow. He never appreciated my potential. And neither did you.” This time she lunged at me for real.
I jumped back and dropped the umbrella, stumbling too close to Peter.
Peter swung the hammer, grunting. I blocked high, feeling the pain all the way through my teeth when the wood struck my forearm. I heard a crunch and felt instant nausea. I cried out, even as Luna laughed in my ear. He swung again, wild and weak this time, and I blocked low with the same arm. Again my world lit up with pain, but I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t let myself feel it. But I knew I couldn’t keep blocking forever. Eventually the pain would get to be too much.
Evade, Nikki, I heard Gunner say in my head. Let him swing at the air.
I straightened again, keeping my eye on the hammer as Peter brought it back over his head. This time, when he swung, he put all his effort behind it. At the last minute, I ducked and swiveled to the side in one smooth motion.
The hammer landed with a sickening clop. Luna’s eyes went surprised for half a second—looking almost like normal eyes—and then fluttered closed. The force of the blow whipped her head to the side, blood spouting in all directions; I felt it on my face like ocean spray. There was a hole in her temple where the hammer had met it. Her body had gone limp. I jumped away, extricating myself from between them and falling backward onto my butt, and watched as Luna’s body slumped to the ground, her eyes open and vacant.
Peter dropped the hammer and screamed, something unintelligible, as he went to her. I crawled on my hands and knees to grab the hammer, which had bounced within reach. The handle had Luna’s blood on it, and a hunk of brown curly hair stuck to the ball of it, and my arm was aching and shaking so hard I could barely hold it, but I didn’t care. I scooted away from Peter.
He turned from the rail, his face a gash of rage, and started to come after me.
“Don’t even think about it,” I heard.
Chris was standing at the top of the grand staircase, his gun trained on Peter Fairchild. Peter stopped, his hands up, and I collapsed forward, hanging my head between my knees while Chris arrested him.
It was finally over.