Payback, page 15
With the press of a button, the screen lights up. It’s 3:23 in the morning. So much could have happened in these hours Caleb and I have been apart.
I dial the number, my heart in my throat. It seems to take a lifetime to ring, but when it does, he answers immediately.
“Brynn?”
At the sound of his voice, my breath comes out in a shudder. Tears burn my eyes. I hug my knees against my chest and grip the phone like it’s the only thing keeping us both alive.
“Brynn, what is it? What’s going on?”
I don’t trust my own voice to answer. It’s too unsteady. I’m too unsteady.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “Where are you? I’m coming.”
“No,” I manage.
He’s quiet a moment. “What happened?”
I press my hand to my throat, willing it to open.
“Nothing,” I choke. “Bad dream.”
He blows out a tense sigh.
My jaws grip together, refusing to let the sob building in my chest break free.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I want everything to go back to normal.
I don’t know what normal is anymore.
“He’s dead,” I say.
He makes a small grunt, as if in pain. “I know.”
“I can still see him.”
“Me, too.”
“You can’t get hurt.”
“Hey.” His voice is softer now. “I’m not hurt. I’m fine.”
“Where are you?”
“With my mom and brothers. I told them I’d feel better if I knew where they were staying. They think Dr. O’s on board.”
Which means he’s safe, at least for a little while.
I nod, as if he can see me. The next breath comes a tiny bit easier.
“Brynn, I’m okay,” he says in that same gentle tone.
“I wish you were here.”
He would be if I hadn’t gotten him kicked out. I know he doesn’t blame me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t my fault, and knowing it makes all of this a million times worse.
I feel raw, scratched open. The old me never would have showed this side of myself. The old me would have been strong, and kept my shield up. But I can’t with Caleb. I can’t, and I don’t want to.
The right person unlocks the best and worst in you. They show you who you really are.
I am scared.
I’m scared Raf’s death is my fault.
I’m scared Caleb is next.
“That’s funny,” he says quietly, “I was just wishing you were here.”
Quiet stretches between us. My face is wet, my throat raw. The ache in my chest has slowed to a bruising punch.
I hear him shift on the couch, or maybe a bed. “We could eat leftover noodles and watch TV.”
I blow out a tight breath.
“What’s on?”
A beat passes. “Infomercials … nineties’ sitcoms … and Kung Fu.”
“Definitely Kung Fu.”
“Excellent choice.”
My forehead rests against my knee. I picture us sitting on a couch, side by side. The reflection of the show in his glasses. The weight of the plate on my lap.
“The noodles are good,” I say.
“I’ll let Mom know.”
“Is she awake?”
“No. Everyone’s asleep.”
“Just us,” I say.
“Just us.”
I imagine the dark house. The way we put our plates down and settle against the couch. My back to his chest, his arms around my waist. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as my fingers weave through his.
I’m not crying anymore, and I dry my face with the pulled-down sleeve of my nightshirt.
I remember listening to him play piano once. How the quiet, simple melody sunk into my skin, into my blood, and then with each rising note began to swell, filling me up until my skin was tight and my bones felt like they might break with the overwhelming beauty of it all.
That’s what Caleb is to me. A symphony. A quiet song that slips inside, and fills all the cracks, softens all the edges, and then builds until all the things I’m feeling can’t possibly be contained.
“Can I stay with you?” I ask, as if I’m really there.
“All night,” he says.
I’m stronger now, and able to talk to him about the dream and my run-in with June and Geri. I tell him Charlotte’s having a girl—before I came to my room, I went to hers, and she was so excited I couldn’t tell her about Raf. After I left, I packed a go bag with all the things she’ll need—clothes, and cash I had in my wallet, and extra toiletries from the supply closet. Just in case.
“It feels more real now,” Caleb says.
“It does.” I don’t just mean with Charlotte and the baby, I mean with him and me.
We talk a little longer about Moore’s little run-down house in Devon Park, and Caleb’s mom and brothers and dad. And then we start to yawn, and long stretches of silence start to overtake the conversation.
“Don’t go.” It’s the last thing I remember telling him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, but maybe I’m already dreaming.
* * *
I WAKE WITH a start to my door shoving inward and a self-righteous pixie standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.
“What the—”
“Oh, sorry,” she says. “I thought we don’t knock. That’s our special thing.”
I jerk the comforter up my chest, hiding the burner cell and Caleb’s notecards beneath it.
“I locked the door.”
“Really? You think that matters at a place like this?”
Fair point.
As Geri moves closer, I tighten the blanket around my chest and blink away my bleary fatigue. The clock on the nightstand says it’s just after eight, and even though the reason she’s here must be important, part of me can’t help mourning a lazy Saturday wake-up.
Then I remember Caleb, and I fight the urge to grab the phone and check for messages. The battery’s probably dead by now. I don’t even remember hanging up.
“What do you want?” I snap as she tucks the hairpin she used on the door back into her updo.
“Oh, Brynn.” She sits on the bed beside me, crossing her legs and her arms, her back curtain-rod straight. I glare at her black pencil skirt and gray leggings, and the corded sweater that hugs her chest and arms. She’s already wearing lipstick. “I’ve had a very busy morning.”
My brows arch.
“When you want something done, you ask Geri,” she says, a little proudly. “Turns out my father isn’t the only fixer in the family.”
Everything inside me lurches forward, like I’m in a car that just slammed on the brakes.
“Talk,” I prompt.
“I arranged an on-location visit to Damien’s set. He’s seeing us tomorrow afternoon.”
Today is Saturday. Two weeks exactly to Dr. O’s swearing-in on New Year’s. Will Damien be able to help us this quickly? If he’s willing to turn on Dr. O, we can blackmail the director by the end of the week.
“How’d you do it?”
“I asked the director,” she says, and I experience another lurch, this one even less pleasant. “He likes me, remember? I play nice.”
“Great. What did you say?”
“I told him I’m interested in University of Maryland’s theater program, and I was looking at a campus visit when I heard a rumor that Damien was filming there. Pout the lips, bat the eyes, and presto. He made the call.”
Dr. O has Damien on speed dial. That can’t be a good thing.
“We leave tomorrow morning,” she says. “Our flight’s at eight-thirty. Campus tour is at one. Damien’s fitting us in at five before a night shoot. We’re staying at the Four Seasons, and flying back early Monday morning before finals.”
I scowl.
“What?” Her jeweled flat, which has been slapping against her heel each time she flexes her toes, stops. “That not good enough for you?”
“It just seems, I don’t know … kind of easy.”
She balks. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think you could do better?”
“No,” I say quickly, unable to shake my wariness. “Belk followed us to the mall the other night. It feels odd that Dr. O would let us go out of state alone without a chaperone.”
Geri actually flicks her hair.
“I’ve got it covered.”
“I’m actually scared right now.”
Her grin is as sharp as her claws. “I told Dr. O you’ve been acting a little funny, and he asked me to keep an eye on you.”
“What?” I jerk up sharply, catching the comforter just before it reveals the burner phone by my hip.
“Relax,” she says. “It was nothing he didn’t already suspect.”
I cringe, wondering again who’s talking behind my back—June? Grayson? For all I know, Geri really is using this time to report to Dr. O any extra information.
I’ve got to make sure to keep the upper hand—keep Margot dangling in front of Geri like a carrot on a stick.
Her foot has stopped again. She’s staring at my far wall as if she might be able to knock it down with the intentness of her stare.
“Dr. O doesn’t seem to have anything on you,” Geri says quietly, which seems unnecessarily kind for her. “But he’s suspicious.”
I think of Raf again, and all the others Dr. O may have harmed. His suspicion should make me back off, but it only makes me push harder. We have to stop him. Soon.
“And I can make him more suspicious or less suspicious, depending on what you tell me,” she adds.
There she is. Geri Allen, ladies and gentlemen.
“Guess you better make sure we don’t have any trouble in Baltimore, then,” I tell her.
Her lips press together. “Monday morning I want everything you have on Margot.”
We actually shake on it, and as soon as Geri leaves the room I plug in the burner and text Caleb the new development.
CHAPTER 15
The rest of the day is a flurry of activity. Shrew, excited by my sudden new interest in college, lays out a plan for what I should be looking for once I get to campus tomorrow. While Sam visits his mom in prison, Charlotte helps me pack, throwing in way too many outfits for a two-day trip. Then she and Henry set up an all-day screening of Damien Fontego’s show, Kings of Rochester, in the pit while we try, in vain, to study for finals.
We are never alone long enough to go into details about the real purpose of my mission to Baltimore. Every time I turn around June is lurking. She tells us Kings of Rochester is pretentious, but she never leaves, and even after dinner I find her in my room, gossiping about the other students and waiting for me to return the favor.
It’s probably harmless, but I can’t commit to trusting her after what happened with Raf. She hears too much.
I hardly sleep that night. Caleb’s with his family. He texts me to say that everything is all right, but I hate each hour that passes after without word.
When I lie in bed, a dozen faces swirl through my mind. Raf and Renee. Margot, hiding since she received news about what happened in Bakerstown. Charlie and the Wolves. June. Paz and Bea and Joel. Geri and her father. Henry and Grayson. Moore, with his broken heart.
I think of Mom, and the picture she sent earlier in the day of the Christmas tree she’s put up in her new apartment. It’s real, so much better than the skimpy plastic one we had when she was with Pete.
Devon Park feels a million miles away now. The slums where I was raised don’t seem so dark and scary anymore. At least there, we knew who we were and who we were dealing with. Danger wasn’t disguised by the glimmering mantle of wealth. If someone meant to hurt you, you knew it, you didn’t have to wonder and wait.
And after checking the burner for the hundredth time, I find my fingers typing a message, not to Mom or Caleb, but to an old friend I haven’t seen in what feels like a long time.
He doesn’t answer, and I don’t expect him to. But somehow, as soon as I press send, I’m able to fall asleep.
* * *
THE TRIP TO the airport is my first drive not accompanied by an adult, and I make Geri leave an hour before we have to just in case we hit traffic. We park in an overnight lot, and after navigating through the security checkpoint, I follow Geri to our gate. I’ve never been on an airplane before, and despite the seriousness of the task that lies ahead, I’m thrilled by all of it. The giant jets on the runway outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The people running to catch their next flight. The neon light display in the long hall where we ride a moving sidewalk. The sushi bar in the middle of our terminal.
I can’t stop looking at everything.
Geri can’t stop rolling her eyes, but every once in a while, I catch her smirking.
When they call our boarding group, I grab my messenger bag and stand in line. I’ve seen how this goes in movies, but I still feel a flutter of nerves tingling between my ribs as I approach the gate agent and show her my ticket.
“Thank you, Ms. Hilder,” she says curtly, and then I’m following Geri down the jet bridge, my Chucks squeaking against the floor, my hands pulling down my black Vale Hall sweatshirt with the silver Raven in the center.
We take our final steps into the plane, and then a flight attendant in a blue suit says good morning and returns my smile, which is burning my cheeks because it’s so big.
“You sit there,” Geri says, like I’m a child. I give her the face that says as much, but I’m secretly grateful to have a window view. I stuff my bag beneath the seat as she takes out a book and a sleep mask and tucks them into the pouch on the back of the seat in front of us.
“Excuse me, do you mind switching seats so I can sit by my girlfriend?”
I turn at neck-breaking speed to face the source of the voice, now standing in the aisle beside the seat next to Geri’s.
Even as I soak in the face I have committed to memory a thousand times, even as he smiles and that shimmer of heat flushes my skin, I still can’t believe what I’m seeing.
My girlfriend?
“Are you kidding me?” Geri cranks her glare in my direction. “You wanted a trip to Baltimore to hang out with him?”
Reality catches up with me in a hard lurch, and before I can stop it, I’m gaping like a fish, unable to explain why Caleb is here because I honestly didn’t consider it a possibility.
“Sure,” the woman at the end of our row says reluctantly, giving us a strange look before rising. Caleb directs her a few rows back, and her expression lightens as she notices the handsome man in the business suit whom she’ll be sitting beside.
Caleb sets his backpack on the seat she just vacated. He’s gotten his hair cut. I liked it shaggy, but this is good too. More than good, actually. The top is long enough to run my fingers through. The sides are short, and I have the sudden desire to know what it feels like against my cheek.
“Do you mind if I sit by Brynn?” he asks Geri, as if this is a perfectly normal request made by any other student who magically appeared on the airplane.
Muttering under her breath, she slides out, and he takes the center seat.
He grins at me, and even if this is a terrible idea he’s managed to somehow execute, I feel the corners of my mouth tilting up.
He’s here. Raf is gone and I have no idea how we’re going to turn Damien, but he’s here.
I’m not alone.
“Anytime anyone would like to offer an explanation, that would be great,” says Geri through her teeth.
Fear threatens to break through my haze. “What are you doing here?”
He shouldn’t be here.
Geri could report him to Dr. O at any minute. Someone could be waiting in Baltimore for us. His family would be left on their own.
He must sense my unease, because his hand turns over on his thigh in offering. I place mine in it without hesitation, grounded by the warm strength of his fingers curling over my knuckles.
“We’re in this together, right?” he asks, again, just for me.
My throat goes tight, but I nod.
“A friend is keeping an eye out on the house,” he adds.
He must mean Moore—clearly he doesn’t want Geri hearing this. Maybe that’s for the best.
He squeezes my hand and turns to our classmate. “I missed you, Geri. Thought this would be a good chance to catch up.”
“First? Doubtful,” she hisses. “Second, how did you even get on a plane? Last I checked you didn’t exist anymore.”
She lowers her voice at the end as a flight attendant passes by, miming for us to buckle up.
I try to, but the ends of the seat belt don’t exactly look like they belong together. One is a hollow metal square, the other looks like a deck of cards.
“I got a new ID yesterday.” He slips out his wallet and passes me a small, laminated state ID bearing the name Sam Harris. The address is somewhere in Amelia—maybe the house Sam grew up in—but the picture is Caleb’s smiling face.
While I’m inspecting it, Caleb reaches to my waist. Wordlessly, he presses the metal end of the seat belt into the buckle, then pulls the strap snugly across my hips.
I blink, dragging my focus away from the slide of his hand over my stomach. “How…”
“He borrowed Moore’s machine.”
Moore has the ability to make ID’s—he created new ones whenever we needed them for a job. And since Sam Harris technically is a real person, Caleb wouldn’t have been flagged using his identity.
“We bought the ticket yesterday at the library. I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t entirely sure it would work.”
Sam was supposed to be at the prison visiting his mom. I didn’t think he’d be with Caleb at the library orchestrating a plane trip to Baltimore to help me.
A wrinkle forms between my brows. I glance at Geri, and then back to Caleb.
“You’re sharing an awful lot,” I tell him.
He passes Geri her end of the seat belt, which had slid between their seats. “She’s not going to say anything.”
“What makes you so sure?” Geri asks. “She might not want to be caught associating with a Vale Hall reject.”
