Payback, page 17
I shake my head. We both know I can take care of myself on that front.
Caleb’s with the group up ahead. His eyes hold to the top of the buildings, even while everyone else is watching the tour guide. He’s probably calculating the slope of the roofs, or trying to date the architecture. It makes me think of what Marcus said, about what happens when you give part of yourself, something other than hate, to a place. Maybe this entire college sprang from one architect’s good intentions.
“More than decent,” I say.
“You trust him?”
“Yes.”
There’s no hesitation in my answer, and the word rings through me like a declaration. Love belongs to the heart, but trust is in the bones. Where we come from, that’s more important.
As we reach the student union, I start catching snippets of what the tour guide is saying. This is for show, I’m not really interested in theater—at least, I don’t think—but it is kind of exciting to hear about dining options and dorm life. They even offer classes dissecting zombie movies and comic book superheroes.
But every time I find myself getting excited, I check the time on my phone.
We need to meet Damien at five, at some location outside the city. As helpful as Geri’s been to make this trip happen, and as bad as I feel for her with the boys tacking on, I don’t want her there when Caleb and I talk to Damien. She needs to have deniability should someone question her about what happened.
As we cut through a field to the music building, I make my way to Geri’s side. She’s scribbled pages of notes in her journal, and has taken a dozen or more pictures of the buildings we’ve passed.
“So. You think you want to go here?” I ask. Behind us, Marcus and Caleb have struck up a conversation. I’m pleased to see Marcus smiling as he talks, and Caleb tilting forward and clutching his side in laughter.
“Are you honestly trying to make small talk?”
I push my hands into the pockets of my coat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for it to turn out like this.”
“You mean with all your boys chasing you from city to city? I’m sure.”
Okay, I deserve that.
“I didn’t expect either of them to come.”
She turns on me, cheeks tinged pink. “But they did. Just like they always do.”
I frown and pull up the collar of my coat. It’s still sunny, but the wind has taken on a bitter chill, and the cold from the cement paths is sneaking through the fabric of my shoes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
“Please.” She stuffs her phone into her bag. “Caleb? Marcus? Grayson? Not to mention Henry and Charlotte and Sam and everyone else you manage to charm.”
Irritation gets the better of me. “Charm? What are you…”
She hurries after the group, and I speed up to stay beside her. “You do nothing and people adore you. Meanwhile I’m over here working every angle I’ve got, and I’m barely surviving the Vale Hall war zone. Do I want to go here? Yes. Graduation can’t come soon enough.”
She sounds like me just months ago in Devon Park.
“Hold on,” I say. “People don’t adore me.”
“Sure they don’t.” Her words are sharp and cold.
“I’m not … I mean, I don’t think—”
“Save it,” she says. “I don’t need you making me feel better. I know what people think about me. My own best friend hates me, and what’s worse, I wasn’t even sure she was actually alive until you told me.”
She shrinks in on herself at the mention of Margot, and I can’t help pitying her. She’s right, I do have friends, but it hasn’t always been that way. In Devon Park, I was a nothing. Worse than nothing. It was only once I got to Vale Hall that my life changed. For a while, I actually thought I could be myself.
But that’s been Geri’s problem. I see that now, looking at her perfect makeup and her pristine hair. Her notepad of facts about a place far away she might be able to fit in.
She wears a shield. One created by her father’s job, and Dr. O’s secret projects, and her failed attempt to con Grayson. Now that it’s slipped aside, I see the real her. The girl who keeps people at a distance. The girl who is alone.
She’s been awful to me. But I haven’t been particularly kind to her either.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
She is so small without her self-righteous anger holding her up.
“I was kind of looking forward to a girls’ trip,” she says quietly. “It’s stupid. Don’t even say it.”
I wince, picturing what it could have been like if we were close. How we could have explored this city together. Taken our own notes and compared them at one of the little coffee shops on campus.
I bet Geri hasn’t had a real friend since Margot got kicked out.
If anyone has a reason to fight Dr. O, it’s her.
If there was anyone at school we could really use on our side—who had an ear with the director, and a hit man father—it’s her.
“Geri.” My brows scrunch. I blow out a tense breath, unable to believe what I’m about to do. “We’re talking to Damien about blackmailing Dr. O to get him out of the school.”
I wait for her response, but she only stares ahead, motionless, as if she hasn’t heard me.
I know she has.
“He’s dangerous,” I say quickly. “What happened to Caleb and Margot has happened to others. People are dying—”
“I’m in.”
I blink. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Laughter? Her immediately picking up the phone to report my insubordination to Dr. O? At least a lecture on why this is a stupid idea.
“You’re in?” I manage.
“He sent my dad after my best friend,” she says quietly, her lip trembling the slightest bit. “And my dad couldn’t say no, because if he did, Dr. O would have made me disappear.”
I shiver.
“I can’t live like this anymore.” Her hard glare meets mine. “If you’re taking down Dr. O, I want in.”
I look for some sign that she’s playing me. That this is one of her wretched games. But I don’t see it. I can’t feel the breath of uncertainty down my spine telling me not to trust her.
Her words feel honest, the intent behind them solid.
My chin dips in a slow nod. Once again, I’ve underestimated Geri.
“All right,” I say.
“What’s the plan?”
“The truth. We tell Damien everything we know that Dr. O’s done.” About Margot and Jimmy. Caleb. Raf. “A group of us are going to threaten to take it all public unless Dr. O leaves town.”
She tucks her chin into her coat collar. “And if Damien’s in Dr. O’s pocket?”
“We run.”
“We’ll be on a closed set with security.”
“Then we’ll run fast.”
I don’t mean to make light of it, but once we expose our plan to Damien, we won’t have many options. He could call Dr. O and tell him what we’ve done—that Caleb’s involved. All of our families could be targeted before we even leave the state.
My fingers close around the phone in my pocket. Henry knows our plan and is awaiting my call. If things go south, he’ll meet us at headquarters. He’ll alert Moore, who’s still looking for Renee, to move my mom and Caleb’s family. Charlotte’s go bag is ready. She and Sam will disappear on their own.
I won’t get to say goodbye.
It doesn’t matter. They’ll be safe. That’s all that’s important.
“Okay,” Geri says.
“Okay?”
“I said I was in, what else do you want?”
I smirk.
She bites the corner of her lip. “So your friend, Marcus. He lives here?”
I glance up, finding Marcus through the crowd, kicking a pine cone toward Caleb as if they’re playing soccer. “He does now. We grew up together. We used to go out.”
Her cheeks flush. “Oh. Well.”
Her words hang between us.
“You think Marcus is cute,” I say with a grin.
“I do not.”
“Admit it,” I tell her. “This is what friends do. They talk about things.”
“We’re not friends.”
“Come on,” I say. “People find me charming. They adore me.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous and so is he. It makes sense that you were together.”
“We’re not together anymore,” I sing.
With a nasty look, she’s off, and though I let her go, I can’t stop grinning.
This day has been full of unexpected surprises.
CHAPTER 17
Kings of Rochester, the Emmy-winning drama about two art thieves trying to take down a gangster, is shot outside Baltimore, at an abandoned electric plant on the Chesapeake Bay. The main site is comprised of six stories of crumbling red brick and smashed-out windows, and the gravel lot out front is filled with parked trailers and temporary sheds.
“I can’t believe you know Damien Fontego!” Marcus howls from behind us as we search for the set’s entrance in the chain-link fence.
It wasn’t my plan to bring him, but after the tour Geri and I discovered that he and Caleb had been bonding over the show in our absence, and Geri invited him to come.
Caleb was skeptical of putting more people at risk, especially after I’d told him that Geri was in on our plan. But she made a good point that Marcus would be less noticed if there were two guys with us. More people, more distraction, she’d said, quoting a lesson from conning class.
Secretly, I think she just wanted to keep Marcus around.
“I can’t believe you watch Kings of Rochester,” I say, my toes curling in my Chucks against the cold. We could have called a car, but Marcus insisted it wasn’t a far walk from the commuter train. Now it’s not the nerves pushing me faster, but the subzero chill in the air.
“Who doesn’t watch Kings of Rochester?” Geri scoffs.
“Yeah, Bloody Brynn,” Marcus mimics her tone. “Who doesn’t watch Kings of Rochester?”
I groan. This is exactly what I need. More people on Team Geri.
“What’s that about anyway?” She makes a face. “Bloody Brynn.”
“It’s what they call her in Devon Park,” says Marcus.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter, digging my hands in my coat pockets.
Caleb’s gaze seeks mine, worry pinching his brows. He knows how much I hate this nickname.
“Why?” asks Geri.
“Because freshman year we had this speaker—you remember him, Brynn? That guy that owned the noodle place.”
“How could I forget?”
“Okay,” says Caleb. “Maybe we should—”
But Marcus is already talking. “He’s doing this speech, all twitchy and cranked up on something, and he starts checking Brynn out.”
“He what?” Geri looks to me for confirmation.
I glance over my shoulder at Marcus. There was no checking out that I recall.
“Yeah,” says Marcus. “So he starts heading toward her, and she’s staring him down like if he tries anything, he’s dead, and he’s so messed up he trips himself and crashes into her, trying to get a handful of something, you know what I mean?”
He’s gracious enough to show us with his hands.
“What did you do?” asks Geri, horrified.
“She cracked him in the nose.” Marcus’s shoulders are bouncing in laughter now. “With her forehead.”
Geri’s staring at me in wonder.
“That’s not…” I’m baffled as Geri lifts her hand to give me a high five.
“Blood everywhere,” says Marcus. “All over the guy. All over her. People called her Bloody Brynn after that, and no one—not junkies, not even gangsters—messed with her.”
I blink, unsure what to say. He seems to have reworked key points of the story—specifically, the part where the guy tripped on the mic cord and randomly cracked his nose on my face. But Geri’s looking at me like I just won a street fight, and Marcus is nodding his head like I’m some force to be reckoned with, and it makes the other stuff, the snide whispers and name-calling, seem not quite as awful.
Caleb squeezes my hand.
“What can I say?” I tell them, still baffled. “I’m kind of a badass.”
Marcus winks at me, and I wonder if he knows he’s embellishing or if he’s changing the story for my sake, but as we find the gate, a patchwork of chain-link fence marked by “Private Property” signs, I realize it doesn’t matter. The past twists in the favor of the teller. Sometimes, that’s for the best.
A security guard greets us as we approach, and I give him my name, which he echoes into a walkie-talkie. After a garbled response, we’re allowed in.
“Friends of Fontego, huh?” The guard’s forearms are as thick as my thighs. He’s wearing a slim leather coat despite the cold, and peeks down at us over the rims of his sunglasses.
“That’s right,” says Marcus. “Best friends.”
“We go to the same school he graduated from,” I add, giving Marcus a side-eyed glare.
“Does he know you’ve been expelled?” Geri asks Caleb as the guard locks the gate behind us.
Caleb pulls down the brim of his baseball cap and hunches in his coat. “I’m not sure.”
I reach for his hand, gripping his fingers as they thread through mine. Anticipation is wearing a hole through my chest.
This has to work. Damien’s the key. If we can convince him Dr. O is unstable and a danger to the students, we might be able to save the school and our own lives before Dr. O takes the Senate seat on New Year’s Eve.
“Remember, if anyone at school asks, Caleb was never here,” I tell Geri.
“Remember, I want to see Margot as soon as we get back,” she answers quietly, flushing as Marcus reaches for her hand to help her over a mud puddle.
The guard leads us toward a beige trailer on the opposite end of the lot. There’s a star on the door and a sign beneath that says “Ben Dwyer.” Nerves shiver in my belly as I recognize Damien’s name on the show.
“This is awesome,” says Marcus. Even Caleb smiles.
This is going to work.
“That’s where they filmed the shootout in the season finale,” the guard says, pointing toward the entrance to the brick warehouse. “Down there in the river was where Ben saved Julie in season two.”
“For the kiss heard round the world.” Geri clutches my elbow. She’s making a soft, high-pitched squeal I’m pretty sure only dogs and rodents can hear.
“You’re worse than Henry.” I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning.
“You’ve got thirty minutes before he needs to go to makeup,” the guard says. “He tried to get you a pass for shooting, but it’s a closed set today. He and Julie … you know. Reunite.” The guard blushes.
“They get back together?” Geri shrieks. I’ve never seen her fangirl like this before. Any other time I’d be recording it for proof later.
“I didn’t say anything,” says the guard, holding his hands up in surrender. He steps up the wobbly stairs to the door and knocks twice. “Damien, I got your friends here.”
“Just a minute!” comes a muffled voice through the door.
Geri blows out an unsteady breath. I give Caleb a huge smile.
“Oh, boy,” he mutters, but there’s amusement in his eyes.
The door opens inward, and Damien Fontego stands in the threshold in only jeans, hanging low on his waist, while he scrubs a towel over his glistening, wet hair.
He looks like an underwear model. In fact, I’m pretty sure he is an underwear model.
“Hey there.” A dimple digs into Damien’s smooth cheek as he beams down at us. “Sorry. I just got out of the shower. Have to grab my workouts when I can.”
“Of course you do,” Caleb says.
“Wow,” says Geri.
“Damn!” Marcus points. “You’re him! Ben Dwyer, in real life!”
There is no averting my eyes from Damien’s very well formed pecs.
“In real life,” says Damien. “I’m glad you guys could stop by.”
Geri climbs the stairs first, and he gives her a kiss on the cheek and a hug. I follow, and when I ask if he remembers me, he pulls me close and says, “How could I forget?”
“Okay,” says Caleb, behind me. “Put your shirt on already.”
Damien laughs, and while they hug he whispers something I can’t make out in Caleb’s ear. Caleb glances up at me, his jaw a little pink, and says, “Yeah. That’s her.”
I want to ask him what that was about, but Marcus bowls into the trailer and starts peppering Damien with questions about his workout regimen and how he got his six-pack abs.
The trailer is smaller than I expected, even after seeing it from the outside. There are no mirrored walls or bouquets of flowers. Instead, there’s an unmade twin-size bed in the back, and a treadmill crammed in beside it. The main area is open, with five sets of free weights on a rack next to a small fridge and a sink. On the fold-out table beside the door is a platter of fruits and vegetables, a blender, and a foil container marked quinoa salad. Beside it is an open binder holding what looks suspiciously like a script.
I fight the urge to glance over it for spoilers.
“Want something to eat?” Damien asks. “I’ve got … health food?” He laughs. “Sorry. No good stuff until we’re done shooting this season.”
“I’ll eat,” says Marcus, reaching for the salad container. “Quinoa’s a complete protein and a grain.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
He gives me a toothy grin.
“So you’re all interested in acting, huh?” Damien grabs a T-shirt from the small closet beside the bed and pulls it on. “Stage or film?”
“Stage,” says Geri.
“Nice,” says Marcus.
She blushes.
“Actually,” Caleb says. “There’s something else we need to talk to you about.”
A wary look passes over Damien’s face. “Yeah?”
“Maybe Marcus should step outside for a minute,” Caleb suggests.
Marcus, now digging into the salad, makes a face. “Man. I thought we were friends.”
I don’t like it, but Caleb is right. “Just a few minutes, Marcus. This … isn’t something you want to know. Trust me on that.”
