by Saba Kapur
“Mom!” I said in alarm. She looked on the verge of passing out. “It’s fixable. Chill.”
“That’s alright,” Dad told the paramedic calmly. “We’ll send Gia over in a second.”
“Uh, yeah, you can check me instead,” Jack said, motioning toward his injured arm. “Come on, Kenny.”
Jack stood between my mother and the paramedic, practically pulling her away before Mom could scare her anymore. That boy seriously deserved a fruit basket or something. Or, I was completely wrong and he was making a move on the paramedic. It was probably the second one.
Mom ran her fingers through her hair and blew out a sigh. Dad opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Mom turned and whacked him in the arm as hard as she could.
“OW!”
“Mom!”
“This is all your fault!” she exclaimed. “We should have never let Gia out in such a public place like that.”
“My fault?” Dad replied, giving her a look of complete disbelief. “I was the one who said it was too dangerous for Gia to do the whole Golden Globes thing. You insisted that she do it!”
“And whose choice was it to befriend the Chinese lunatic, huh?”
“He’s not even Chinese!”
“His nationality isn’t actually what I’m concerned about, Harry!”
“Guys stop!” I interrupted, before they could continue their argument. They both looked at me. “Seriously! Whatever happened, happened. It’s over now! It’s no one’s fault but Frank’s. So let’s just move on and stop blaming each other!”
My parents looked at me sheepishly, as if they were two kids being told off for some act of mischief. It was quite possibly the only time I could act like the parent without someone shutting me down, so I smiled a little, enjoying the power.
Unfortunately that was cut short when Dad said, “When you said you were hiding things from me, what did you mean?”
Oh shoot. There was no way I was going to tell my dad about the Coco Club, sneaking out of the house and using a fake ID. I was definitely sorry for all that, but I hardly thought it mattered now. No need to dwell on the past.
“I’m going to go get some medical help,” I told him, smiling innocently.
Dad gave me a knowing look, but stepped aside so I could move past him. I smiled at both my parents, sent a mental message to Baby J to thank him for doing me a solid and saving all our lives. That was going in the I owe you book for sure.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in an open ambulance van running my fingers softly over my bandaged wrists. It was past one in the morning and the exhaustion was starting to hit me. I had been briefed by about twenty different agents in the last five minutes, and my energy levels were running dangerously low. What did a girl have to do to get a Mars bar and a silky cushion around here?
“Hey,” I heard Milo say softly, and I looked up at his grim smile.
“Hey.”
Milo leaned against one of the van door, putting a hand in pocket of his LAPD jacket. “How are you feeling?”
Truthfully, I had no clue how was feeling. Relieved, tired, disturbed, grateful, sad, scared. Everything rolled into one. But because the dictionary didn’t actually have a name for that emotion, I just lied and told him I was good.
“Listen,” Milo said, watching a pair of police officers walk over to their police car. “Some reporters caught wind of this, and I think they’re on their way. So we should probably get you out of here.”
“Yeah of course,” I replied, nodding understandingly.
“Your parents will go with one of the agents. Jack’s going to the hospital.” He eyed my bandages. “Do you need to go too?”
“The paramedics said I should be okay to go home.”
Milo nodded and watched me slip off my heels silently. He extended a hand to me, helping me climb out of the van. I took his hand and jumped out, my heels in my other hand.
“Thanks,” I told him, giving him a tired smile.
“No problem.” Milo dropped my hand and pulled off his jacket, handing it to me. “Put this on. You must be freezing.”
I took it from him gratefully. I hadn’t noticed how cold I was until he had just mentioned it. Plus, the jacket smelled like him, which was a scent I was trying to figure out how to bottle. I caught my father’s eye as he was easing his way into a shiny black car. He stopped and nodded at me, as if checking if everything was okay. I gave him a thumbs-up to signal I was fine.
“You sure you’re okay?” Milo asked, eyeing me uncertainly.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I replied with a half-laugh.
“Just checking!” Milo replied, his own lips curving into a smile. “I don’t want you collapsing on me again.”
I cringed, clasping my eyes shut for a second. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be silly,” he replied seriously. “I think you’re holding up pretty well, considering everything that just happened.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. If I hit the floor again, I’m going to need your help.”
“Fair enough.”
“Miss Winters.”
I turned around to see Agent Walker and Detective Reynolds walking toward us. Both men looked exhausted, but still smiled.
“Hi,” I said, giving them a little wave with my free hand.
“Firstly,” Agent Walker said. “I’d like to apologize. We were really hoping to avoid this outcome tonight.”
“It’s okay,” I replied truthfully. “I think we all underestimated how much Frank wanted this.”
“Agent Walker will be taking you home tonight,” Detective Reynolds said. “I’ll be following your parents in a separate car. Just a safety precaution, no need to worry.”
“The car will be here in a few minutes,” Agent Walker said. “Sit tight, and we’ll get you home safe in no time.”
I said my polite thank you’s and both men turned to leave.
“Great work tonight, Fells,” Detective Reynolds added to Milo, giving him a quick handshake. “You’re going to make a great officer, kid.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Milo gave an embarrassed smile as they walked away, as if the idea of pride was shameful.
“You really did do great tonight,” I said, and his smile widened a little. “I don’t think I would have gotten off the floor it weren’t for you.”
“I didn’t really do anything. It was Jack who figured out which lot you were in.”
“Oh yeah!” I exclaimed, looking around. “This place is huge. How’d he manage that?”
“Do you remember that napkin from the Coco Club? The one that Frank left for you?”
“The one with the number five on it?”
Milo pointed to the side of the wall ahead of us. On the top-right, a huge number five was painted in block, dark blue.
“Lucky guess?” he said, lowering his arm.
“Oh,” I replied, as everything clicked into place.
“Yeah.”
“Wow, Frank really planned this whole thing out!”
“He definitely has some evil genius vibes going for him.”
“So,” I said, rocking back on my heels. “Looks like you and Jack did a bit of collaborating tonight.”
“I think I owe him an apology,” Milo said sheepishly. “I got a bit caught up with my conspiracy theory, didn’t I?”
Yeah, lil’ bit. But I wasn’t about to tell him that. Now that Jack had proven just how innocent he was, all that research on him seemed a little over the top. I didn’t even want to imagine what had been happening between the two boys on the way over.
“Well,” I said, fiddling with the zip on Milo’s jacket. It was hanging off me a little, but it felt like I was being hugged. “I guess it’s all over now.”
I tried to look relieved, but it must not have worked
because Milo was looking at me like I was about to cry again.
“I know what’ll cheer you up,” Milo said, and the corners of my lips lifted an inch. “Frank’s terrifying nickname actually stands for Dr. Dumpling. If that doesn’t make you feel a little better, then nothing will.”
“I’m sorry, doctor what?” I asked, even though I had heard him.
“Doctor Dumpling,” Milo repeated, grinning at me. “I guess it was influenced by the role he always wanted and his time overseas.”
“How do you know what it stands for?”
“I asked him,” Milo said casually, and I began to laugh as I pictured it. “Just after they read him his rights, of course. The LAPD take those very seriously.”
“You’re kidding, right?” I said in-between laughter. On the phone it sounded so scary. Now, it sounded ridiculous.
“No, it’s true!” Milo replied. “I was really curious!”
“That’s a terrible villain name!”
“I mean, it’s not as good as Tinkerbill. But I’ll give him points for effort.”
I cast my mind back to the fraternity party I had gone to with Milo, where the random frat boy half dressed as a fairy had been throwing glitter at everyone and yelling about how drunk he was. Just the thought of comparing Frank to someone as stupid as “Tinkerbill” made me laugh uncontrollably. I was laughing was so much, I had to lean against Milo’s car door and clap a hand over my mouth. It didn’t feel like it was appropriate to be happy for some reason, but laughing just felt so good.
“Hey, Gia?” Milo said, as my laughter began to die down slowly. “I’m really sorry your big night got ruined. That kind of sucks.”
My smile faded. “Yeah,” I said. “It does.”
“And I really am sorry about the whole Jack thing.”
“Just so you know,” I said. “There’s nothing going on between Jack and I. Like . . . you know. In that way.”
If Jack was secretly in love with me, Frank almost killing us all would have been a good time to admit it. Seeing as that didn’t even come close to happening, I was going to take a wild guess and say he probably didn’t share those electric currents I always felt around him.
“Is something going on between us in that way?” Milo asked, and I blushed a little. “I mean, I know the timing isn’t great, but—”
“I don’t know,” I interrupted. “You’re leaving soon and it’s . . . complicated.”
There wasn’t really an easy way to say oh my God please love me forever, I don’t care if you’re moving to freaking Norway.
“Well, maybe we can just hang out sometime?” Milo suggested, looking hopeful. “Nothing fancy.”
“Milo,” I said with a sigh. “You don’t want to get involved with me. Like, seriously. This is the danger zone.”
“Oh come on.”
“No, it really is! I have an unhealthy addiction to shoes and I crave chocolate to the point where I actually dream about it at night.”
Milo look amused. “Everyone loves chocolate,” he said.
“It’s not just the eating habits. My mom is probably going to hit on you occasionally, and my brother is a complete weirdo. And if you think that you’re going to have one second of peace and quiet after all of this, then you’re wrong. The paparazzi are going to be up in your grill every time we want to grab some gelato!”
“I think my grill will survive.”
“Not to mention Meghan Adams and her minions, who are going to have plenty to say about us. Which, trust me, is not a good thing!”
“Should I know who Meghan Adams is?”
“If that’s not bad enough,” I continued. “My dad is going to go full on CIA mode! He was protective enough to begin with, and now he’s going to be a complete nightmare. Like, he’s probably going to know which brand of hair gel you use.”
Milo put a hand to his head and said, “L’Oreal mostly.”
“Plus, there’s always the issue of you going to New York.”
“I don’t leave for a couple of months!”
I blew out another sigh. “Yeah but you are going to leave.”
Milo nodded thoughtfully, watching as two paramedics walked passed, engaged in conversation. “You’re right,” he said finally. “We shouldn’t make things messy.”
He smiled, but I could tell his dimples weren’t really feeling it. I could relate. Milo Fells wanted to date me and all of a sudden my brain wanted to become Mrs. Practicality? I bet Audrey Hepburn never had to deal with this crap. Oh, screw practicality. It had never done me any favors in the past.
“But,” I said, “I suppose we could still hang out sometimes. You know, platonically.”
Milo raised an eyebrow. In the background I could hear Agent Walker’s car approaching us.
“Platonically?” Milo repeated.
“Yeah. Casually. Platonically. I know I said that already, but I’m not great with synonyms.”
“Right,” he said, nodding. “That could work.”
“Great,” I smiled, holding out my free hand so he could shake it. “So . . . friends?”
Milo curled his fingers into his jacket, still draped around my shoulders, and pulled me close. He kissed me, quickly but with lots of feeling.
“Sure,” he said. “Friends.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aria and Veronica were lying sprawled across my bed, flipping through magazines and filing through a pile of clothes dumped next to them. It had been three weeks since the Golden Globes, and three weeks since the little incident. We tried not to bring it up too much in the house. It wasn’t exactly great dinner table conversation. I had finally been able to tell my friends everything, which hadn’t been easy to relive. But it was a relief to not have to lie anymore. Everything had changed in such a short amount of time. College acceptance letters had been mailed, I had planned my future and I had a brand new replacement for my phone. Plus, my house was bug-free, as was my dog, and I was officially out of harm’s way. Oh, and Dad had let me go shopping to “relieve my stress,” so I had a brand new wardrobe too. I knew there was only so long I could milk the “remember when your ex-bestie stalked and kidnapped me” card, but I was going to use it for as long as I could.
More importantly, I had changed. I refused to dwell on things I couldn’t change, and instead busied myself with anything that would take my mind off that stupid night. As far as I was concerned, Frank Parker didn’t exist. He was just a terrible nightmare I had, here one minute and gone the next. I’ll admit, Ao Jie Kai had proved to be a little more interesting to learn about. His mother apparently worked in the cleaning company that we hired the day the listening bugs were planted. Frank had found that little fact particularly interesting when it came up in conversation with his favorite waiter, building his diabolical plan from there up. It was thanks to her that Ao Jie Kai got the job for a few shifts, claiming he needed some extra cash and was willing to help his mother out. The cops said his mom had no clue what was happening. That made two of us.
But that chapter had finished, and I was ready to move on. No more worrying about guns and warehouses. My biggest dilemmas were going to be wardrobe related from now on.
“I can’t choose!” I cried with frustration, throwing another pile of dresses onto the bed.
Lincoln was throwing a “Pre College” party at his house to celebrate everyone’s acceptance into college, even though I’m pretty sure a fair few of our year level hadn’t even applied. With bulging wallets and sturdy trust funds, college wasn’t a necessity for everyone at LAC Elite.
“Why don’t you wear this?” Aria asked, holding up my Yves Saint Laurent strapless dress.
I took it from her uncertainly, running the silk through my fingers. “I don’t know. It seems a little much for this crowd.”
“Personally,” Veronica said, holding Famous in her left hand. “I like the C
hanel leather shorts.”
I made a face and said, “Meghan was wearing those the other day. I can’t stand to have the same taste as Meghan Adams.”
Meghan had been abnormally nice ever since the Golden Globes debacle. Everyone at school had, to be honest. But there was something extra weird about kindness coming from Meghan. It just seemed wrong, like the other shoe was about to drop at any time.
“It’s Chanel! It’s everyone’s taste!” Aria argued.
“Even still, I think I’ll pass.”
“What about this?” Veronica asked, pulling a black dress out of the pile.
It was the same one I had worn when Milo and I went to the frat party to find Ao Jie Kai. I took it from her and clutched it to my chest, as if I were holding an autographed poster from the Backstreet Boys.
“I was wearing this the first time Milo kissed me,” I told my friends, unable to keep the love-struck look off my face.
“Ugh!” Aria cried, resting her head against the headboard. “Your boyfriend is so hot, it’s like, painful.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aria said, rolling her eyes. “You’re still into the whole no labels thing. But if you guys make out every time you go to the movies, then he’s your boyfriend. Hate to break it to you.”
“Are you an expert on boyfriends now?” I asked with a smile.
Aria winked at me cheekily. “Actually, I’m an expert on no labels.”
Milo technically wasn’t my boyfriend, but honestly those lines were getting pretty blurred. We were trying to be realistic about all the things going against us. And trust me, there were plenty of them. But if Milo and I wanted to “hang out,” then damn it, we were going to hang out. No point being young if you can’t have some fun with it.
“Um,” Veronica said, holding up the cut up basketball jersey Jack had given me the first time we visited the Dumpling Hospital. “What the hell is this?”
Aria sat up and took the unevenly cut t-shirt from her, eyeing it uncertainly. “Gia, why do you own this? If this is your taste, we need to get you some help.”
