He grabs hold of my wrist, pulling me back towards his face. “I didn’t say you could leave.”
I lay my hand on his cheek. “I just ran around the block a bunch of times,” I say, pressing my lips to his forehead briefly. “I was never more than a hundred feet from you. The boys were counting my laps for me.”
It’s a lie, but one he buys. He releases his grip and closes his eyes again, sinking back into his pillow. I’m unsure what to do at this point. I can’t stand to be around him, but I have to play my part.
I have to finish this.
And I still have to find that fucking videotape, the one that will ensure that the world will know what Dornan Ross and his sons did to me and to the people I loved.
I undress and walk naked into the en suite, glancing behind me. It’s at this point that Dornan would normally drag me back into bed, but this morning is different. I stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching silently as Dornan pulls on jeans and shrugs into a shirt.
He is almost at the door when I reach down and grab his leather coat.
“Dornan,” I say quietly. He turns, slowly, wearily, and a small thrill shoots down my spine as I see the total devastation etched onto his face.
I take a step forward and hold the jacket out in front of my naked form.
“It’s cold out there,” I say.
He takes the jacket and flashes me a tired smile. It’s the most gentle gesture he’s ever displayed in front of me.
“I’m sorry,” I lie through my teeth. “I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.”
He nods, licking his lips slowly. He slings the jacket over his shoulder and opens the door to the hallway.
“You and me both, baby girl.”
He closes the door behind him and I back into the bathroom, leaning against the counter for a moment. Sunlight is streaming through the small window set high in the bathroom wall, and it hits my eyes, dazzling me. I close my eyes, those first rays of the day’s sun kissing my cheekbones, and I take a deep breath, savouring the small moment of peace and the way the morning breeze caresses my face. Fresh air and solitude is almost impossible to come by in this place, but here, today, I feel a sense of calm and stillness that makes everything seem right.
Eventually, the sun moves higher in the sky, the breeze turns colder, and I step into the shower, letting the hot water fall over me. I take my time massaging suds into my hair before letting the steady stream of hot water run over my head and face, as if cleansing me of my sins.
I dress slowly, savoring every moment. A plain black dress that stops at the knee and cinches at the waist, capped sleeves and a modest neckline. Black patent heels. A slash of red lipstick and some mascara, and I’m ready.
Ready for the performance of my life.
Four
The sound of Harley Davidson’s rent the air like machine guns stuck on automatic fire.
Venice Beach, California. The Ross family are Catholic, so of course they’ll do an open-casket viewing before the funeral. I’m not a part of the viewing, thank goodness. I don’t want to see how bloated Chad’s face is, how the make-up artist has chosen to try and cover the angry red splotches all over his face from the drugs he unwittingly drank. So I’m outside the funeral home, fighting the urge to tap my foot with impatience, as Dornan and the rest of the immediate family spend time with Chad’s empty vessel.
I struggle to keep a neutral face as I remember Dornan finding Chad.
Jase and I had finished off the beer we were sharing and gone downstairs to the large communal room that sat off the hallway, adjacent to the garage, for a game of pool. I was equal parts excited and nervous…I had just killed another human being, after all.
My first kill.
I could barely keep the smile off my face.
As a teenager, I’d had the pleasure of kicking Jase’s ass at pool almost every time we played. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good at it—I was just better.
So when it came time to play again, I didn’t want there to be any chance that he would become suspicious of my skills.
“Wanna break?” he said, after he had finished lining up the triangle of balls.
“Break what?” I asked ignorantly.
“Break,” Jase repeated. “You have played pool before, right?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
He laughed and handed me the pool cue. “You hit the white ball into the colored balls. That’s called breaking.”
I stood at the end of the pool table, the cue gripped clumsily in my hands, and he shook his head. “Here,” he said, shifting so that he was standing behind me. He wrapped his arms around mine, his hands covering mine as we gripped the pool cue in unison.
The sensation of his body pressed into mine was enough to take my breath away. I breathed in sharply, hardly noticeable, but just enough for him to notice. He stepped away as if I’d just electrocuted him, the new tension in the air almost thick enough to see.
I straightened and looked at him, neither of us saying anything for a few moments.
“Maybe we should just forget this,” he said, gesturing to me, then the pool table. But we both knew he was talking about more than that. He meant, maybe we should forget about this. This being fireworks, and burning, and electricity jolting every time we were near each other.
I knew exactly what he meant.
And I had no intention of forgetting it.
My rational brain screamed for me to shut up, that it would be better if we just kept our distance, that the closer I got to Jase, the more likely it was that he would find me out.
“I don’t want to forget this,” I said, taking a step to swallow the distance between us. I leaned back over the pool table, cue in hand, and inclined my head to the side.
“Get over here and help me break these balls.”
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, the way he sometimes did when he was unsure or sheepish. “What if I don’t want to?” he asked, this time with laughter lighting up his eyes.
I smiled and stood up, pointing the tip of the cue at his crotch. “Then I’ll break your balls,” I joked, turning back to the table.
Jase laughed at my joke, turning back to the pool table, where he straightened the white ball against the break line.
“You’re holding that cue all wrong,” he said, and as I opened my mouth to deliver another smart-ass response, a heart-rending scream pierced the silence, making me jump.
“What the fuck?” Jase breathed, striding to the doorway. He glanced up and down the hallway, probably trying to decide where the scream had originated from. A second scream, shorter this time, had him turning sharply left to the garage where I had left Chad’s lifeless body. I trailed slowly after him, not sure what to do. I hadn’t thought about the aftermath. To hang back, or to charge in?
Fuck it. I wanted to see what was happening. Knowledge could be power and all that. I hurried into the garage and past the few bikes left.
Just at that moment, the drone of Harley’s began, the volume rising rapidly as dozens of bikes entered the compound. The massive tilt-door began to open and sunlight flooded the almost-empty space. Jase ran to the door, his arms up, halting the bikes that were about to take up their spots.