by Angel Lawson
“Okay,” Ozzy says, “I’m in.”
The app is buried under miscellaneous, but Ozzy finds it quickly, pulling up the application that’s already open to her Rosemary’s Baby account. He pulls up her actual profile, which gives him way more access than his fake account. This way we’re able to see a large image of her profile picture. It’s painful seeing her—so pretty. Her long, dark hair flows over her shoulders. Her lips are twisted in a seductive smile, and there’s a view of her cleavage.
Her bio is pretty basic although filled with half-truths.
Name: Rosemary’s Baby
Age: 19
Occupation: College Student
Hobbies: Sitting by the fire, reading a good book, doting on my friends.
Desires: To find that perfect Daddy that knows how to take care of his Princess, who knows how to take care of him in return.
“Seriously?” I say, fighting a gag. I can’t even imagine Rose saying something like that. It feels gross violating her privacy like this and the feeling only grows when Ozzy opens her private messages.
There are a lot.
“Holy shit,” Ezra mutters.
“It’s not a surprise,” I say. “Look at that picture. She’s gorgeous.”
“She activated the account six months ago,” Ozzy says. Finn winces. He’s made it perfectly clear that’s around when they stopped being intimate. “Messages started immediately. It looks like online, just like in real life, Rose was picky. She had high demands.”
“Like what?” Ezra asks, leaning forward.
“Money. Jewelry. An apartment in the city that she could go to when she ‘needed a break.’ She asked for a big allowance. Five hundred a month, plus the apartment. There are a lot of men that ghosted once they saw her demands. A few asked for more photos, uh,” his eyes flick to mine, “naked ones mostly.”
His finger hovers over the stash of private photos. I snatch the phone from him. It’s not that I’m jealous. I’m not. But Rose had these set to private for a reason. These three knuckleheads are the last ones that need to see them.
“I’ll look and see if there’s anything important.”
Ozzy nods, and Finn breathes a sigh of relief. This has to be hard on him, seeing his girlfriend so exposed.
I scan through the photos and try to keep my eyes from bugging out. They’re graphic—photos of her breasts, pinching her nipples, touching herself between her legs. I flip through them quickly, feeling a little queasy seeing my former best friend like this. I’m about to close it out when something catches my eye.
“Look at this one,” I say to Finn, letting him look at the last photo. “She’s not wearing the Claddagh charm.”
It’s less risqué, but still sexy. She’s leaning forward, with her mouth half open. It’s obvious she’s not wearing clothes, or at least a shirt. Her neck is bare. The caption says, “Can’t wait to see you.”
“No,” Finn says, looking quickly away, “she’s not.”
“Ozzy, can you tell when that picture was taken?”
This could help develop a timeline. If it was after she went missing, then Rose may still be out there…if it was before, then it means she may have lost the charm before that night.
He clicks his tongue while he looks and pauses. “It’s time stamped the day before school started.”
“Which means she possibly wasn’t wearing it when she went missing.”
But when? Wouldn’t Finn notice?
“Did she send that photo to anyone?”
“Yeah,” he says, sliding his finger over the screen. “About three months ago, she started exclusively talking to someone that goes by the handle Big D.”
“Typical,” Ezra mutters.
“Right? He agreed to her financial demands. Once they met in person, it seems like their interactions on the app weren’t that frequent. They probably texted, or called directly. But she did occasionally send him things via the app. Dates. Times. It was probably easier not to get caught. She sent that photo without the charm the night before she vanished.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“No, that was their last communication.” He frowns. “Actually, it looks like her account was deactivated around then, too.”
“What do we know about the guy?” Finn asks. “What does his profile say.”
“Not much. I can only see what he’s made public.”
The image is just a standard bare chest selfie taken in a dresser mirror or something. He’s fit—muscular body, ripped abs. He’s in boxer briefs, clearly to accentuate the bulge underneath the tight fabric. At the bottom of the picture is clutter on the dresser top. The blurry glint of jewelry, possibly a watch.
“So what we do know is that Rose communicated with this guy at least twenty-four hours before she disappeared. We know the charm was missing before then.” I look at Finn. “Do you remember the last time you saw it?”
He shakes his head.
I think back to the night at the pool. Two days prior. I search my memory, but I can’t remember if she was wearing it or not.
“We still need to figure out who this guy is,” Ozzy says, leaning back on the couch.
“I think maybe I have an idea,” I say, lifting the bag off the floor. “I’ll be back.”
In the bathroom, I change quickly, putting on the bathing suit similar to one Rose wore all summer at the pool. I found it on clearance at the end of summer sale. Then I pull on the wig, tucking my blonde hair underneath, and combing it into the gentle waves Rose preferred. The final touch is clasping the sliver chain around my neck and the Claddagh charm I ordered online. My heart flutters, knowing the guys are not going to like this idea but we’re out of options.
I open the door and it takes a moment for the boys to look up at me, but when they do, all three freeze, jaws dropped. I feel their eyes sweep over me, starting with the wig, then the bikini.
“Jesus Christ,” Ezra mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Wha-wha—what are you doing?” Ozzy asks, when he’s finally able to speak.
“There’s one way to lure this guy back out. We just need a little bait, and we know exactly what this guy likes.”
“By you pretending to be Rose?” Ezra asks. “Bad idea.”
Finn stares at the floor, his jaw tight and his fists clenched.
“Rose asked me for help,” I tell them, “and I turned her away. I owe her to find out what happened to her.”
“That’s not on you,” Finn says.
“Well it feels like it. The guilt is killing me. I want to do something other than wait for the police to get their heads out of their asses.”
“This is stupid. Even if this guy doesn’t come out,” Ezra says, eyes zeroed in on my chest, “you’re basically opening the door to a hundred other predators.”
“I can handle it.” I look at Ozzy pleadingly. “I want to do this.”
He frowns but holds my eye. “Okay, but you let me set up the account and we have to have access to it the whole time. Nothing off screen.”
“I’m out,” Finn says, shaking his head. He grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I already had one girlfriend that liked to play stupid games. I’m not sitting by while you do it, too.”
“Finn—" I call.
Ezra grabs my arm. “If you want to do this, we’ll back you up.”
I look at him and Ozzy. “I do.”
“Then let him go. He’ll be okay.”
I hear the door slam upstairs, not completely sure that’s true.
32
Ezra
It’s late when I send the text.
Ezra: Meet me on the corner. Wear something warm.
It’s entirely possible she’s already asleep, but a moment later my phone lights up.
KK: On my way.
Two weeks ago, this never would have happened. I never would have brought my bike over here to pick this girl up, she never would have come if I had. Sneaking out is the kind of risk other girls take, a
world which she’d been excluded from, yet here we are. I’m calling her out of her warm bed in the middle of the night to meet the baddest boy of them all.
I’d started to figure there’s something more to the good girl we’d all grown up with, and increasingly I’m itching to find out.
Especially after that scene in my basement today. Jesus Christ.
From my vantage point, I see her step through the front door and shove her hands into her hoodie pockets. She’s not going to be warm enough, but that just means she’ll have to snuggle up tight.
At the edge of her driveway she spots me where I wait, astride my bike.
“Hey,” she says, walking up to me. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
I grab a helmet hanging from the back and hold it out to her. “Thought tonight may be a good one for a ride.”
To my surprise she doesn’t hesitate, taking the helmet and lowering it over her head. I reach out and adjust it, grazing her neck, making sure it’s on tight. She climbs behind me, less worried about touching me this time, and I don’t have to force her to put her arms around my waist, she just does it, sliding her hands along my stomach, underneath my jacket.
I take a deep breath and look back. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The motorcycle rocks back, and she tightens her grip. I chuckle to myself, because I may have done all of this on purpose—just to have her close to me. I start the engine up and it rumbles to life, vibrating underneath us. I release the brake and with a jolt, we take off.
Kenley holds on tight, pressing her little body so close that I’m not sure where I end and she begins. The air is cold around us, but the heat between us warm—if not hot. I know what the vibration can do between a woman’s legs, how powerful it feels, much like that display from earlier today.
I take the turns to get out of the neighborhood and then take the straight, mostly flat shot that leads out of Thistle Cove. It’s not the most scenic—especially at night—but she may jump right off if I take her on the coastal road.
Kenley wants to feel in control. Needs it. Finn’s fucking scared. I get it, he already lost one girl. Ozzy is so supportive he’d let her dive head first into whatever foolish game she tries to play. I’m somewhere in the middle. Risk vs reward.
I turn down a side road and take the bike up a sharper incline, inching uphill. There’s a cut in the road ahead and when I get to it, I come to a stop, cutting the engine. Kenley sits up, the warmth vanishing between us, and she blinks, seeing that we’re at an overlook—the lights of Thistle Cove in the distance. Beyond that is the bay, pitch black, other than a few blinking lights from ships.
“Did you have your eyes closed the whole time?” I ask.
“Most of it.”
I shake my head, take off my helmet, then hers.
The headlights shine on a picnic table and I lead her over. She sits on the flat, wooden planks and a shiver rolls through her. I unzip my leather jacket and hang it over her shoulders.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asks, sniffing the lining. She likes my smell. It makes me happier than it should.
“Not really. I run hot.” And hard. All fucking day.
I sit next to her, close, our legs touching, our feet next to one another on the bench.
I look out at the scattering of lights that make up our tiny town. “I gotta tell you, KK, you looked damn sexy in that get-up today.”
She doesn’t react, just buries her hands in the jacket pockets.
“I meant what I said, if you want to go through with this I have your back, but I’m not going to lie—you’re asking for trouble.”
“I’m just looking for information.”
“Well, the guys on that site are looking for sex, and when they see you like that—if they saw you like you are right now—that’s what they’d want, too.”
She looks over at me, eyebrows furrowed. “Right now, I look like a hobo in a stolen jacket.”
I shake my head and laugh. “You’re gorgeous Kenley Keene, I’m not exactly sure why you ever thought differently.”
“Maybe because no one ever asked me out?”
My jaw tics. “No one asked you out, sweetheart, because you had eyes for one guy. Finn Holloway ruined you for every other male in Thistle Cove.”
“That’s—” She sighs. “God, that’s pathetic. Am I that pathetic?”
I lean back on my hands. “No, the opposite. You’re loyal and you love hard. You’re sexy in a hoodie or under a vixen’s wig. You’re the complete package. Rose Waller isn’t the ideal girl—you are.”
We’re cast in the light of my headlight and I see her cheeks turn pink. “Why are you telling me all this, Ezra?”
Because I want to kiss you? Because I want to put you on that bike and run away from our bullshit town? Because I want to see you when you lose control? Be the one to take you there?
“I need you to understand that if you join that SugarBabies site, you know what you’re getting into—who you’re dealing with. They’re going to see you and want you. I’m sure half of them are idiots, just looking for a quickie, but some of those men are rich and powerful. They’re manipulative, sweet-talking, charming misogynists. They don’t want an arrangement, they want a possession. Are you prepared to get into that?”
“How do you know all this?”
I laugh. “Have you met my father? I’m not saying he’s involved in something like this. I mean, maybe if he was he’d lay off me for a while, but the men he works with, this is how they operate. They’re creeps.”
“I’m not planning on doing anything but look for some information—maybe see if I can figure out what Rose was up to.”
I look over at her and hold her eye. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Kenley.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes dart to my mouth, and I know if I kissed her right now, she’d let me. Why wouldn’t she? I played the whole white knight, looking out for her virtue, I called her sexy and sweet. But I’m here to help her not get manipulated, not manipulate her myself.
I stand and offer her my hand, and she blinks at it, slowly realizing I’m not going to take this any further. Who’s going against type now?
We head back to the bike and I let her keep my jacket. We go through the motions of me helping her back into her helmet, getting on the bike, feeling her arms wrap around my waist.
As I drive back home, I know there’s few things I can offer Kenley. I’m not Finn or Ozzy. I’m not some kid with a bright future that can give KK everything she needs and deserves. What I can do is protect her from people like myself. Like my father. Like the shady scum that preys on the vulnerable.
I can’t give her much, I think, racing toward the lights, but I can give her that.
33
Ozzy
A week has passed since Rose Waller didn’t show up for school. The effects are all around us. Posters tacked around town with her smiling face. Rose-colored ribbons affixed to collars, blouses, and backpacks. But it’s also been long enough that everyone has started to grow a little numb, the tears all cried out. The terrible truth is just under the surface. Rose is probably not coming back.
It’s noticeable during AP Lit.
Finn didn’t talk to us when he walked in this morning—still pissed about Kenley making the SugarBabies account. Out of good faith, I sent him the link. It’s not active yet. It’s up to her to decide when to push the button. I’ll support her when she does. She’s just trying to do what she needs to do to ease her guilt.
She sits in front of me and I count the freckles on her shoulder. Ezra’s one seat over, face resting on his arm, half-asleep. Juliette’s chatter bounces through the room. She’s got Finn’s attention back. Just how she likes it.
Ms. Gimple stands in front of the class, Moby Dick held in one hand, and her mouth half open when twenty phones buzz at the same time.
She lifts an eyebrow like she’s waiting for someone to break the news.
Kenley t
urns, looking back at me, her phone unopened in her hand. It’s like the whole room is afraid to look.
“Oh my god,” Juliette says, staring down at her phone.
“Uh,” Ezra says. His eyes dart to Finn.
Before anyone else says anything, reads anything, there’s a knock on the classroom door. Chief McMichael walks in, followed by Detective Jones and Belcher.
“Son,” he says to Finn, “we need you to come with us.”
Kenley shoots out of her seat. “Is he being arrested?”
The Chief doesn’t answer, just takes Finn’s bag from him and walks out the door.
The room falls into a brief moment of silence—then the phones start to chime again. Another alert. This time, everyone looks.
“The video surfaced over the weekend of boyfriend and football star Finn Holloway, having an intense argument with missing girlfriend Rose Waller a few days before she went missing.”
Janice Hill’s face cuts away and a grainy black and white video appears. It’s hard to make out but one thing is clear; it’s of Finn and Rose standing by her VW Bug, next to the gas pumps at the Gas & Go. They’re standing across from one another, there’s no volume, but they’re obviously in an intense discussion. Finn’s hands are tugging at his hair. Rose’s are on her hips. Her face is angry. His upset. In a flash he reaches out and grabs her neck and just as quickly turns away.
“As you can tell in the video, submitted to police anonymously,” Janice explains, “the high school couple had a public argument at the gas station on Main Street. From the looks of it, Finn Holloway may have even been violent. According to police records, this is not the first time he and Rose were seen arguing prior to her disappearance. That being said, Mr. Holloway’s whereabout during the time she went missing are well documented, since he was at the bonfire at the school.”
I shut off the video. We’ve watched it ten times now out by the back door that leads to the football field. Ezra is dressed out and ready for practice, his football helmet clutched in his hands.
