I run my fingers through my hair, tugging roughly. “It makes perfect sense to me! You already know everything about Bee’s finances. You sure as hell know more than me.” I poke myself in the chest unnecessarily hard and then jab my finger in her direction. “You’ve been talking about all the McMansions on the other side of the lake and how great it’s been for your dad and his business. If this place gets chopped up, it’ll be just another project for your family to cash in on, won’t it?” Ever since the beach party, I’ve put my trust in Dillion, believing she’s been on my side. I needed a buoy, a lifeline to hold on to when everything else in my life is up in the air.
She crosses her arms and takes a cautious step toward the porch steps, away from me. “How can you believe that I’d do something like that to you? Or to Bee, for that matter? When have I ever done anything to make you feel like I’m not on your side?”
I take a breath; maybe I am going off the deep end here. I have no idea who or what to trust anymore. I want to believe Dillion wouldn’t do anything to me or to Bee, but I also never thought my brother would stoop to such lows for financial gain. All the things he said are bouncing around in my head, making it impossible to remain rational.
“This whole thing is messing with my head, and maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but tell me, Dillion, honestly”—my voice is lower, calmer—“if you had to choose between protecting your family and me, even if it meant lying about Bee, which would you choose?”
She opens and closes her mouth a few times, a pleading, hopeless look in her eyes. “I . . . I can’t answer that right now. It’s why I wanted to speak to Bernie.”
I don’t know what I expected her to say, or if the question was even fair, but this doesn’t make me feel any better. “Well, I think I have my answer.”
“It’s not even a reasonable question, and you know it.” She steps down off the porch. “I don’t need this shit.”
“Of course you’re gonna leave. Don’t want to face the fact that you’re going to screw me over.” I recognize that my brother’s put her in an impossible position, but I hate that she wasn’t honest with me. There’s no way out of this that isn’t going to end up with one of us getting hurt.
“Your brother came to my house and threatened my dad’s business if I didn’t help him get the will reversed. He also seems to think he can put up a bunch of huge homes on the land back there and he won’t run into any roadblocks along the way, which either means he’s delusional or a complete narcissist, or both. I basically told him he could screw himself, but he felt that I needed to hear him out, because otherwise I’d regret the consequences. I planned to talk to Bernie first to make sure that the information Bradley had about my family won’t affect their business and livelihood. I would never betray Bee, not for anything. But I want to make sure Bradley’s threats can’t hurt my family. And at this point, I’m starting to think he’s done me a favor, since your true colors are shining through, and they look like bullshit to me. My brother is losing his mind, your brother is trying to blackmail me, and now you’re accusing me of . . . what? Commiserating with the biggest asshole on the face of the earth—aside from yourself, that is?” She flips me the bird and heads toward the path, shouting over her shoulder, “Fuck you very much.”
Now that I’m hearing it from her side, I’m aware I’ve overreacted, much like my brother might do if he can’t get the exact table he wants at one of his favorite restaurants.
“Dillion, wait.”
She shakes her head and tromps through the bushes.
Awesome. And now I’ve pushed away the one person I felt I could trust.
CHAPTER 24
BAD TO WORSE
Van
After some time to think and calm down, I realize that I’ve made a grave mistake with my accusations. And I’ve taken out my frustration on the wrong person. I send apologetic messages to Dillion for overreacting and being a jerk that, no surprise, go unanswered. Then I apologize for my brother trying to blackmail her. I’d say that whatever he’s planning won’t work, but I’m unsure if that’s true or not, because I’m still finding it hard to believe that he’s the one masterminding this. I didn’t even think he had the drive or motivation to blackmail anyone, let alone figure out how to do it. Obviously, he has piss-poor judgment in who he chooses to try to blackmail, but that he tried at all is ballsy. And, frankly, shocking.
As if Teagan has some kind of sixth sense—which I would never say to her, for fear she would take me seriously and believe she can predict the future—she calls me.
“Did Bradley come see you today?” is the first thing out of her mouth.
I hate that in my current frame of mind, I even call into question whether I can reasonably trust my sister anymore either. “Uh, no. He did not.”
“Really? Are you sure, because I have him on my Life app, and his phone was in Pearl Lake today—not in the actual lake, but in the area.”
“That’s because he went to see Dillion.”
“Why in the world would Bradley go see Dillion?”
“Because he’s contesting the will, and he wants Dillion’s help to get it reversed.” Just that statement alone is enough to make my head pound.
“You’re kidding me. Well, that was stupid of him,” she says, sighing. “There’s zero chance of Dillion ever doing something like that.”
I rub my temple. “And if Bradley was threatening her family’s business?”
“Please tell me this is your idea of a bad joke.” Her disbelief is slightly reassuring.
“I wish I could.”
“He is such an ass. What in the world was he thinking?”
“That he could use Dillion to help him cash in on Grammy Bee’s cottage.”
“Well, there’s no way Dillion would give in to him. It doesn’t matter what he offered her. I might not know her very well, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would bend to blackmail.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d had this conversation with you before she came over for dinner.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I might have accused her of going behind my back and conspiring with Bradley to have the cottage taken away from me.”
“Oh no. Why would you do that?”
“I was paranoid, which I think I have a right to be, all things considered. I saw her with him. At her place. And then she came over and pretended like everything was okay and that he hadn’t even been there, so I called her out on it, but not in a nice way.” I explain how things went down, and Teagan sighs.
“Well, you f’ed up royally, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” I knead the back of my neck. “I don’t know how I’m going to fix this. And now I have to deal with Bradley contesting the will. The guy does the bare minimum at all times; since when does he engage in blackmail tactics?”
“I don’t know, but I had a feeling he was up to something. I just didn’t know what. If he’s contesting the will, he’s probably already spoken to a lawyer. Do you think he’s done any research on what it’s going to take to get the town to allow him to subdivide the lot and put up a bunch of houses?”
“That’s debatable, but possibly?”
“It’s going to cost a lot of money to fund a project like that, and he spends his paychecks faster than he earns them.”
“Like father, like son,” I mutter. “So how is he going to fund something like that unless—fuck.” I drop down in the chair and bang my head against the back of it. “I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to figure it out.”
“Figure what out?”
“I know what happened to the foundation money. Or at least I think I do. Bradley has to be the one who took it.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing he got ahold of the bank information and moved the money little by little without any of us knowing. Maybe he forged my signature, maybe he posed as me, but it had to be him. Who else would it have been? What’s his mantra? ‘Work smarter, not
harder’? It’s all about the money. That asshole. I can’t believe he’s this big of a dick.”
“What’re we going to do? How are we going prove it was him?”
“I don’t know. Get him to admit it? Find out what he’s done with the money and out him? But let’s not tell Dad. Not until we’re sure. Or at least until we have the proof we need. Damn that asshole. This is such a mess.”
“We’re probably going to need some serious therapy after this, aren’t we?” Teagan muses.
“It’s possible.” Probable even. Being blackmailed and defrauded by your own sibling seems like grounds for some serious therapy. “I need to apologize to Dillion. Again.”
“Yeah, you do, and I need to go because Bradley just got home. I’m going to make him a special cocktail and see if I can’t do some recon on my end.”
“Okay. Be safe. I love you, Teag.”
“Love you too, Donny.”
She ends the call, and I stare at the ceiling, trying to absorb it all. I can and can’t believe my brother has done this. It’s shocking, because he expends the most energy on shopping and perfecting his hair. He’s always been a pompous jerk, but this is way beyond anything I can comprehend. And honestly, it’s not something I ever would have thought him capable of. Not to mention I’ve screwed up with Dillion, and now she’s ignoring my messages. Which is completely understandable.
I push up off the couch and head for the front door. I’m considering doing something I normally wouldn’t: groveling. I’m not sure what else I can do other than serenade her, or skywrite a message, but neither option seems like something she’d find all that romantic. Also, skywriting is expensive and seems like a waste of financial resources.
When I knock on her trailer door, I don’t get an answer, so my less-than-awesome groveling plan is thwarted. The truck she drives is missing, so I’m guessing she went out. I could drive around town and see if I can find her, but that’s a level of desperate I’m not sure she’ll appreciate. I also don’t think she’d be all that keen on a public apology.
Based on the stars, the rain they were calling for isn’t coming, which means her trailer will be dry tonight and she won’t have a reason to come knocking on my door. I’m probably her very last resort at this point, maybe just above making a deal with the devil and hugging a grizzly bear.
I spend the next two hours thinking of creative ways to make my brother pay for the shitstorm he’s turned my life into.
Eventually I get sick of being alone with my thoughts, so I step outside, wanting to clear my head. The sun has long set and it’s a clear night, but it’s cooler than it has been. I remember how quickly the weather would turn in August. One night it would be sweltering and the next I’d be in pants and questioning how soon it would be before I needed a fire in the evenings to take the chill off. I grab a flashlight and head down to the dock so I can look at the stars and figure out tomorrow’s get-Dillion-to-forgive-me plan. While drinking beer.
The path to the lake is winding, and little lights are set into the ground at four-foot intervals, like permanent fireflies guiding my way. I grab a chair and check for dock spiders before I sit. I remember as a kid freaking out the first time I saw one. Dock spiders are no regular spider—with a body the size of an Oreo cookie and a leg span that could fill the entire palm of a basketball player’s hand, there is no way I want to share a chair with any of those beasts.
Also, there’s a picture floating around on the internet of a guy’s ridiculously swollen junk after he got bitten by one. I can’t unsee that, and every time I catch a glimpse of one of those spiders, I get an uncomfortable twinge in my balls, like they’re trying to climb up inside my body and hide from the potential for damage.
When I determine the chair is spider-free, I turn off the flashlight and drop down into it. I’m there for all of five peaceful minutes when I hear the rustle of bushes close by. I freeze and hold my breath—not that it will help me at all if there’s a bear out here, looking for a snack.
My panic is short lived, though, because the noise is followed by grumbling and the sound of something hard hitting the dock next door. For a moment I think I’ve lucked out and that Dillion has done the same thing as me: come down to clear her head. At least until I realize the voice is way too deep to be hers.
“Fuckin’ watchers . . . bugs in the shower.” Dillion’s brother, Billy, clomps across the wooden slats, his lantern swinging from one of his crutches. He sets it on a chair, and his crutches clatter to the dock. The sound echoes across the lake, like we’re sitting in a fishbowl.
He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it at his feet, then hops uncoordinatedly to the edge. I haven’t seen him since the last time I ran into him at Bernie’s. From what I’ve witnessed, he seems like a recluse. I imagine that getting a DUI and taking out your neighbor’s mailbox in the process might make someone decide to hermit for a while.
It’s cool just in my shorts and T-shirt, and he’s almost painfully lean, so it can’t be all that warm for him. Apart from the moon, there isn’t much light to provide visibility, and the water is as black as the sky, dotted with pricks of starlight.
Lily pads float close to Dillion’s family’s dock; the water around here is marshy. The only way to combat that is to bring in sand, but it looks like it’s been a few years since anyone has done that. It used to be my job as a teenager to bring wheelbarrows of it down every time I came for a swim so we could wade in and not get tangled up in the weeds at the bottom, or end up with a foot covered in leeches.
I don’t have a chance to make my presence known before he does a graceless belly flop off the end of the dock, but the second he hits the water, I’m already out of my chair. I’m thinking night swimming alone while wearing a cast is not a good idea.
“Ahhh! What the fuck? Stop touching me!”
My beer bottle clatters to the dock, the remaining liquid foaming and sloshing across the boards. I flick on my flashlight and rush to the narrow path worn between the two docks. I nearly trip over his discarded crutches.
“Billy? Man, you okay?”
“Who’s that? Who’s there?”
Billy flails around in the water, his head going under, and he does the windmill, his panic obvious when he comes back up, sputtering and coughing. He’s only a handful of feet from the edge of the dock, but with the weight of his cast, it would be a challenge to swim. I’m also unsure if it’s waterproof.
“It’s your neighbor, Van. I’m a friend of Dillion’s. Grab the end of this, and I’ll pull you back in!” I hold out his crutch as he continues to flail and struggle.
I don’t want to jump in after him. Not because I care if I get wet, but Billy’s too frantic for me to get in the water with him without some kind of floatation device. It’s about twelve feet deep at the end of the dock, which shouldn’t be an issue, but I don’t want to get dragged under by him and end up drowning ten feet from a dock.
I’m grateful when he finally manages to grab hold of the crutch.
But as soon as he’s close enough, he clutches my arm and nearly pulls me in with him. I end up having to shimmy along the edge until the water is shallow enough for him to stand. Even then, he struggles, likely because he’s trying to walk on a casted leg and the bottom of the lake is full of rocks and sticks.
“I’m gonna get in and help you back to shore, okay?” I kick off my shoes and pull my shirt over my head before I join him in the water. The temperature has definitely dropped over the last few days, both in and out of the water, and goose bumps break across my skin as I sling his arm around my shoulder. He leans on me for support, and by the time I finally get him out of the water, he’s shivering.
I force him to sit down so he doesn’t do any more damage to himself.
“What the hell were you thinking? It’s dark, you can’t see a damn thing, and you have a freaking cast!” My shorts are suctioned to my legs, and the cool breeze coming off the water sends a shiver down my spine.
“I n
eeded to shower, and I can’t use the one in the house,” he mumbles.
I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Why? Is it broken?” I nab my T-shirt from the dock and pat his shoulders to dry him off.
“Might as well be. They’re planting bugs.” The words are hard to make out because they’re slurring together and he’s mumbling. “I saw that man in the driveway this afternoon, talking to Dee. He must be a fed or something. He’s been watching me. They all have.”
“He’s not a fed; he’s my brother and an asshole. Raise your arms, please.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
I hold up his discarded shirt. “You’re cold, and it doesn’t look like you brought a towel down with you, so you should put this on.”
His teeth clack a few times before he finally lifts his arms in the air, allowing me to pull his shirt over his head. It hangs off him, his collarbones poking out like hanger wire.
“He’s still probably working for the feds, though. That’s what they do. They make you think they’re just your family, and then they sell you out. Dee lived in the city for years. She has to have connections. She might not even know she has them.”
I’m struggling to understand what he’s talking about. I have to wonder if he’s been smoking the reefer in addition to whatever he’s been drinking. “Why would Dillion have connections to the feds?”
“It’s all connected. Everything is. They brainwash you and make you believe they’re good, and they’re not. Even my mom is working for them. The diner is a cover.”
Dillion mentioned being worried about her brother, and now I have to question if she’s right to be concerned. Nothing Billy says makes sense, and most of it seems to be rooted in paranoia.
Something I’m familiar with.
Thankfully not at this level, though.
“We gotta get you back up to the house, Billy.”
“Nope. No way. It’s bugged. They’re watching me. They can hear my thoughts.”
Love Next Door Page 24
