Iris Boys Box Set

by Lucy Smoke

  "Her eyes are glassy," I related. "She's not focused – Natalia?" I cupped her face in one of my hands and she didn't even flinch.

  "Hold a few fingers up in front of her face," Knix instructed me. I did as he said. "Put them together, yes like that, now slowly move them back and forth. Are her eyes tracking them? Following them at all?" he asked.

  I shook my head and looked back up at him as I lowered my hand. "What does that mean?" I asked hesitantly.

  "I think she may have been drugged," Knix said. He shifted closer. Natalia was growing more and more despondent. It appeared as if whatever she had been given was making her sleepy. She closed her eyes and slumped against me. Knix stood and tucked his arms under her slack body and lifted her into his arms.

  "What are we going to do?" I asked, scared.

  "I'm gonna get her to a hospital," he said, striding out of the room with me on his heels. "I don't know what they gave her or how much."

  My eyes widened as we descended the staircase. My thoughts immediately leapt to dark places. But there was no way whoever was behind all of this was going for murder now. This hadn't been an attempt at framed suicide. The camera and dress and runaway figure proved it. Right?

  Knix jogged out into the front lawn and then around the building to a parking lot I hadn't realized was there alongside the Bluestone House. "What about Ms. Enders and Mr. Wallace?" I asked as I rushed to catch up with Knix's long legs. Knix stopped and cursed. Texas came around the side of the building with the two in tow just then.

  I could hear Ms. Enders proper tone, "What is the meaning of this, young man? I demand–" Her voice cut off with a gasp.

  "What the hell?" I blinked as I realized Mr. Wallace had spoken. "What have you done with that poor girl. Unhand her!" His wrinkled face grew red as he stepped forward.

  "No!" I yelled, putting my hands up between them. "Knix didn't do anything."

  "I figured you'd go to the car," Texas said, looking behind me. I turned and Knix nodded to him before he looked at Ms. Enders and Mr. Wallace to address them.

  "I apologize for having to pull you from the festivities," Knix said. My eyes widened at his proper tone. "But my colleagues and I found Ms. Sevilla in a precarious position and we believe she needs to be rushed to a hospital." Quick. Straight to the point. Completely professional. My chest twinged at being referred to as just a colleague but now was not the time to concern myself with that.

  "Oh dear," Ms. Enders looked to Mr. Wallace.

  "You go with her," Mr. Wallace announced, pushing Ms. Enders forward. "I'll make sure the rest of the girls are safe."

  Ms. Enders looked torn between wanting to argue and simply following behind Knix. In the end, she chose the latter. "Call me if anything else happens," she said sternly before gesturing for Knix to lead the way.

  Knix looked at me. "Stay here," he ordered. "Go with the others." Knix glanced at Texas. "Bell's secondary on this." Texas nodded and then Knix, Natalia, and Ms. Enders were gone, and I stood there with my bare feet in the dirt and my expensive dress trailing on the grass as I watched them go. My heart hurt, and anger rose. It wasn't Mr. Wallace. His face was truly worried for Natalia and completely shocked when he had seen Knix holding her.

  I glanced at Texas. "I know who did this."

  "What?" Before he could stop me, I took off for the Bluestone House. I heard him calling after me, but nothing could stop me now. I was going to find her, and I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but I would make sure she paid for everything she had done to Mr. Spencer's stepdaughter, to the girl from the dance club, and to Natalia. I didn't care if it was pain and grief that was making her do this. It wasn't right.

  Margarie stood at the open window of the upstairs bedroom where we had found Natalia and her attacker. She faced the outside with her hands at her sides. A heavy metal object was clutched in one fist. I didn't even try to hide my steps or mask my movements as I opened the door and stepped into the room. She looked over her shoulder at me.

  "Oh, it's you," she said, disappointed. "I was hoping Ms. Enders would come up here."

  "Why?" I asked, panting. The soft fabric of my dress trailed along behind me as I walked further into the room.

  She shrugged. "Because I was hoping she wasn't as stupid as she's proven to be. I was hoping she would come up here to look for clues or to – something!" Margarie screamed the last word with a frustrated huff. "But no," she sighed. "The dumb bitch is just that...too fucking dumb."

  "She went with Natalia," I said. "They're going to the hospital."

  "Ugh." Margarie turned to look at me. Now that I knew what she was capable of, she looked more shallow and empty than she had the day I had met her. Her face was pale, almost hollowed out. "You're a lot smarter than the rest of those girls," she said finally. "No one else saw it, but I did. I knew how smart you were. You aren't a tittering little airhead, are you?" She didn't let me respond. "No, you're not. So, I had to ask myself. Why is this girl here? What does she want? Is she trying to fit in? That's what I thought originally. That you were just there to fit in. To pretend to be stupid. That's what my sister did, you know."

  I did feel bad for her. I really did, but whatever sympathies I had for her had washed away the further she had slipped into the dark role of blackmailer – among other things. "Kayla was so sweet," she said. "She had everyone fooled. Everyone thought that she was just like them. Nice and young and innocent. But she had plans for herself. She was just going to this stupid camp for the connections she could amass and then that boy–” Margarie’s voice choked. "God, it's always a boy, isn't it?"

  I shook. I didn't know if it was with rage or fear. Maybe it was a combination of both. I kept my eyes glued to Margarie and the gun in her hand in my periphery. Where was Texas? Had I lost him as I ran?

  "Boys are so much worse when you're young," Margarie said. "Kayla didn't believe me when I told her that he wasn't good for her. I tried to pay him off, you know. I didn't have much money then. Not like I do now. God, these dumb bitches..." She laughed, the sound low and hollow. "They have everything – money, power, connections, and they are too brainless to use them to their own advantage. They don't deserve to live. Not when Kayla is–"

  "It won't bring her back," I said.

  Margarie stopped, as if shocked that I had said anything. "What?"

  "Hurting these girls won't bring your sister back," I repeated. "Hurting Ms. Enders won't either."

  "It's her fault too!" Margarie screamed. "Don't you see that?!" Margarie gestured wildly and I had to stop myself from cringing as the gun moved in her hand. "She was supposed to protect these girls. To keep them safe. And she didn't. She failed, and she thinks that she can just keep going on like nothing happened. Like Kayla was never here. Like she–" Margarie cut herself off before taking a breath. “But no, this isn’t about her. It’s not about Enders. It’s about her.” At first, I was confused, thinking she was talking about her sister, but the venom in her voice was wrong for that to be true. “She did this to my sister. My best friend. So, I’m going to ruin this camp. I’m going to ruin Enders and all of the girls and then...then I’ll ruin her.”

  "So, what?" I asked. My voice was rough, my tone low. I stepped closer. I was only a few feet away from her now. Margarie’s eyes widened and she backed up to the window. “What then?” I asked. "You were planning to have someone keep attacking the girls from the camp? Rape them? Blackmail them for money? Then hurt them so much that, by the constant reminder of what happened to them, they would end up taking their own lives?" It made me so sick my stomach threatened to roil, and I had to swallow against the urge to throw up.

  "I-I–" Margarie stuttered.

  "It would never have worked out for you," I said. "Do you know why?" I moved even closer and realized something. She hadn’t even bothered to use the gun. It was still at her side. Her eyes were impossibly wide, her mouth agape. I wondered if it was even loaded. It would be wrong to discount it.

  "W-why?" she whisp
ered.

  "Because you're not the one with the power," I said as I slowly reached for the gun in her hand. She trembled as I extracted it from her fingers. Once it was in my hand, I breathed a little easier. I continued talking anyway. "You may have been the blackmailer, the instigator of their problems, the reason the girls you hurt will need help...maybe even for the rest of their lives." My eyes watered. I held the gun in my hand. My hands clenched around the metal. It was warm. "You hurt them. Yes. But they have the ultimate power. And they have the ultimate choice. And you can't ever take that away from them."

  "Yes, I can!" Margarie screamed at me and flung herself forward. She slapped me, raking her nails across my face. I grunted as the gun dropped from my hand and hit the floor. She went for it but before she could close her hands around the handle, I kicked the thing out of her reach. She screamed, insanely. Instead of heading for the gun again, Margarie dove on top of me and we rolled. I grunted again as the camera in my bra banged against my breast. I knew I would have a good-sized bruise there later. I couldn’t dredge up any care though. I was too focused on Margarie.

  She slapped me, punched me, kicked me. I felt my lip tear. I tasted blood. I closed my eyes and took a breath, then grabbed her by the upper arms and flipped her. I straddled her body and then punched her in the face – once, twice, three times. Her nose was bloody. Her eyes open and face shocked. I stared down at her.

  I leaned close. "You don't have any power over them," I stated clearly. "Not anymore."

  Margarie stared up at me and strangely, she looked just like Natalia had – drugged, glassy-eyed, and more than a little lost. My heart clenched because, in that moment, she reminded me of the unnamed girl from the dance club. I only hoped that what I said was true. That Margarie's actions really wouldn't continue to hold power over all of the people that she had hurt.

  "Harlow." Bellamy's strong, clear voice rang from the doorway. I looked up and he came in the room. "Go ahead and get up slowly," he instructed. I glanced down at Margarie, worried that she would try to make a break for it, but as I did as Bellamy ordered, she remained laid out on the floor.

  Bellamy sat her up and put her arms behind her back. He pulled handcuffs out of his back pocket and then snapped them into place on her wrists. Texas stood in the doorway as well when I looked up again. I swallowed thickly.

  "Where's Marv?" I asked.

  "He and Bell caught the guy trying to escape. He's holding him downstairs," Texas answered. He looked at Margarie as Bellamy led her out of the room and down the hall.

  "Margarie?" came the shocked sound of Mr. Wallace's voice as Bellamy helped his last remaining daughter down the stairs in handcuffs. "No, Margarie. No."

  I wondered if all parents were as blind to their children as Mr. Wallace had been. I missed my mom more now than ever, more than anything. Things were so confusing. She was the only one who really knew about my feelings for the guys, though I hadn't told her about the other things – the kisses and now...more. I needed to tell her. Maybe she would have a solution out of this mess.

  I watched Bellamy's retreating back as Texas and I made our way to the edge of the stairs. Just below, at the front doors, stood Marv and a man in dark clothing with his hands cuffed at the small of his back.

  "Harlow?" Texas looked at me expectantly. "Ready?" He held out his hand.

  I wasn't ready. At least, I didn't feel ready. Not at all. Because I felt that things were about to change, and I wasn't sure if they were for the better or not. Yet I found myself reaching back to Texas' hand anyway; like it didn't matter if the change was coming, it would come whether I fought it or not.

  Chapter 18

  Watching Margarie and her cohort as they were cuffed and led to the back of a squad car was surreal, almost like an out of body experience. I felt like I was a voyeur watching on the sidelines, except, I had been part of that. I had helped bring the girl from the dance club bathroom to justice.

  The man that Margarie had been working with was just an average guy she had picked up and paid to unclothe the girls and take incriminating pictures of them. According to Margarie, there had been others and none of the girls had ever actually been raped – something I hoped the girl from the dance club bathroom would soon find out wherever she was.

  Marv assured me that he would inform all of the families that had been interviewed and their daughters would be informed as well. Whoever the girl was, he told me she would know. Even knowing the truth though, I hoped she understood that even if something had happened to her, it wouldn’t have made her any less of a person. She wasn’t weaker because of what had or hadn’t happened; she was stronger for walking through the flames and coming out on the other side of all that pain and anguish.

  From the camera I had retrieved, the cops had been able to pull prints from Margarie as well as a few other of the guys Margarie had paid to work with her. I didn't like thinking about the images that might have been saved on the object.

  Natalia was, thankfully, going to make a full recovery. Isador was at her side later that night and their parents, within a few hours, were touching down at the local airport. Apparently, they hadn’t been very far at all, despite not having been able to make their daughters pseudo-cotillion debut. Mr. and Mrs. Sevilla were both beautiful people, tall and dark skinned. They were regal and angry, their concern for their daughter as obvious as the love that shone in their eyes when they visited her hospital room. Natalia hardly remembered a thing and when I had finally managed to convince the guys to let me visit, she had told me that she only remembered hearing my voice when she was really scared. Mr. and Mrs. Sevilla had thanked me profusely and offered me more money than I would have ever known what to do with. It didn't feel right for me to take it.

  Delilah was waiting outside of the hospital when I exited with Knix and Marv behind me. "Harley!" she called. I turned towards her and Knix put a hand on my shoulder.

  "We'll be waiting in the car when you're done," he said. I nodded, and they walked away.

  "Hey," Delilah said as she approached. Her eyes trailed after Knix and Marv. She sniffed and wiped her cheek. It was then that I realized that – like me – she was still dressed in last night's clothes. The early morning sunshine rose on the horizon and she shivered as she closed her hands over her bare arms. "What happened?" she asked.

  I sighed. "Natalia was attacked. I walked in and stopped it. The guys were there – they chased the guy and caught him." I wasn't quite sure if I should reveal what I knew about Mr. Wallace's daughter.

  Delilah's eyes were dull, haunted. She took a breath, dragging her gaze directly to mine. "It was Margarie, wasn't it?" she asked.

  I tilted my head to the side. "Why do you say that?"

  Delilah sighed, looking at her feet. I looked too. Neither of us were wearing our heels. It almost made me laugh, but I didn't. Delilah swallowed. "I-I pushed Kayla to see the guy," she admitted quietly. I waited and seconds later there was a tell-tale sniff as tears tracked down her face. "We were friends and she loved him so much. I told her to just go for it. Margarie knew. When Kayla...when she died...Margarie told me that I was the one that had really killed her."

  It struck me like a freight train. The her Margarie had been talking about wasn't Kayla or Ms. Enders. It was Delilah. Delilah was openly crying now; gushing tears ran down her reddened face. “I never meant for it to happen,” she said between gasps. “Kayla was in love with him. I thought he loved her too.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I said, stepping forward and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have to know that. None of this was.”

  “You don’t understand,” Delilah sobbed. “She was right – Margarie was right. He – the guy that Kayla…” she sniffed hard. “I didn’t know that he was using her. She was my friend. I should’ve been looking out for her. I–”

  “You can’t make decisions for other people,” I cut her off.

  Delilah’s eyes widened. She looked up at me and I could see it, the hope t
here in the depths of her deep, pain-filled eyes. I glanced over my shoulder at the waiting car. All of the guys were there. They had returned one of the two cars and now we were going to ride to the airport in the one remaining. A part of me wanted to rush this conversation with Delilah, but I knew I needed to pay attention and be detailed. Not everyone understood this fact as well as I did, but because of my days with my mom, I knew especially well that Delilah couldn’t hold herself responsible for the choices of both Kayla and Margarie. I turned back to her.

  “It doesn’t matter that you were there,” I said slowly. “It doesn’t matter what you said or what you could have said or done differently.” I reached for her hands and held them in mine. “You are not responsible for the choices that other people make, Delilah.” I squeezed her fingers. “There is – absolutely – no way you should feel responsible for Margarie or for Kayla. What they chose to do, yeah, I get that it hurts. Maybe you could have done something to stop it–” I shrugged, and her shoulders tensed. “But that’s not up to you.” I looked at her and urged her to understand me. “Everyone has power over their own choices and not anyone else’s.”

  She sniffed hard once more and then nodded. “Thank you,” she said. When I let her hands go, she reached up and wiped her fingers under her eyes once more, catching the lingering smudges of her mascara. “I think I needed to hear that.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” I slowly released a breath and stepped back. “Well, I should get going.”

  Delilah raised her head and glanced over my shoulder. A small smile stretched her lips. “Knix isn’t your cousin, is he?” she asked.

  I blinked and glanced behind me. The guys were still in the car. All of the windows were tinted and rolled up. I turned back to her. “Um…”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “He kinda told me.”

  “He did?” I asked, shocked. That wasn’t like Knix. Actually, that was the exact opposite of like Knix. I narrowed my gaze on her and she quickly raised her hands, palms up.