by Angel Lawson
Ozzy tugs at his cap and blurts, “I’m in.”
Ezra’s dark eyes dart between us, his knee bouncing like a jackrabbit. “Me, too.”
All of us look at Finn, who sits on the small armchair and stares at his hands, his jaw set.
It’s completely possible this is too much for him, that he needs to process what happened with Rose, how they imploded as a couple before she gave up entirely.
He glances up, piercing me with those emerald eyes.
“I’m not willing to let you go again, not after I just got you back.”
I reach out and take his hand, smiling at all three of them, and say, “Then don’t.”
38
Kenley
A specific kind of adrenaline fueled the community of Thistle Cove during the search for Rose Waller. When it’s officially over, and her death is ruled a suicide, a sense of relief settles over the town. Mystery solved.
Rose had always been one of the town’s most interesting daughters and the mystery surrounding her disappearance only fed the Waller mythology. She was bigger than the school, the cheer squad, the community pool, but in the end, it stifled her, and the sun flared out.
Not only now will Rose fuel the mythology, but she’ll become a martyr as well.
The memorial service goes as expected. The day is appropriately overcast, making the rolling hill of the Thistle Cove Cemetery look greener than normal. One of the first things I notice is that the grass matches Finn’s eyes.
Ozzy and I stand near the back, our parents nearby. It’s appropriate for us to be here—but not appropriate for us to be on the front rows with friends and family. Finn plays the part of devastated boyfriend, only a few people aware that they’d broken up just days before. Mr. Waller is stoic. His wife is a wreck. The Chandler family has a prominent position—not just a support for the Wallers but for the town as a whole. Juliette went all out in a black lace and chiffon dress that makes her red hair glow like fire. Mr. Baxter and Ezra sit one row back. They’re rarely seen together, and their similarities are striking, accentuated by gray, tailored suits. They look more like brothers than father and son. It’s fitting, I guess.
Clustered around them are cheerleaders, teachers, football players, and other familiar faces. I watch them all.
“What are you thinking about?” Ozzy asks, whispering in my ear.
“I can’t stop thinking about the other life Rose led—the one outside of Thistle Cove.”
The one where men paid for her companionship.
The one on the other side of that key card to the East Point Suites.
The one where she’d said she had a relationship with one of her friend’s fathers…
“I’m not sure that really matters now.”
He’s right. It doesn’t.
I’m still dressed in black when I hop in the car. My parents, Finn, and Ezra, they all went to the Wallers' after the service to express their condolences. I can’t handle that today—the cemetery was enough. I dropped Ozzy at home and he kissed me in the driveway, smoothed my hair and made everything okay—for a few minutes.
I don’t turn at my street, instead an urge nags at me and I keep going, heading toward Carter’s Bridge. I’ve done my best to avoid it since the night Rose went missing. Tonight, after the service and the stories and the tears, I feel the need to go.
I park my car down by the road, knowing there’s not enough room on the bridge itself, and start walking toward the center. I follow the lines of spray paint, marks in an unintelligible police language, that point to where the car was found. It’s not like I need that to find it. The shrine will do.
Flowers, unicorns, pictures, and tiny fake candles light up the area. It’s not dark yet and the view from the bridge is notorious for being picturesque. On the side where the shrine sits you can see the bay in the distance. Odds are that’s where Rose’s body was pulled by the current.
As I approach, I’m surprised to see someone else walking from the opposite distance. Black lace and chiffon. Flaming red hair.
“What are you doing here?” Juliette says, walking toward me on spiked heels.
It’s a stupid question. Why are either of us here? We’re the two girls most affected by Rose.
She has an empty bag in her hand and she stops by the shrine, bending to pick up the wilted, dead flowers.
“You clean this up?” I ask.
She doesn’t look at me as she works. “The Wallers don’t like it when it gets trashy-looking. Dead flowers and dirty stuffed animals are depressing. I figure if I come out here and freshen it up a little, it can help make it less painful to drive past.”
I watch her sort through the items. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Well, contrary to what you may think, I’m not actually a monster.”
That is contrary to what I think. One act of kindness isn’t enough to change my mind on what I know is true…
I frown.
“Did you know?” I ask suddenly, “That she was so unhappy?”
She pauses. “I knew that there was no stopping Rose when she was determined to do something.”
That’s not exactly the answer to my question.
She rearranges the items that are left and picks up a photo of Rose smiling in her cheer uniform. There’s not a trace of unhappiness on her face. She stares at it longingly.
I should leave this alone—leave Juliette alone. Now is not the time, but I can’t stop myself. “Maybe if you hadn’t cut me out all those years ago, swooped in and stole my best friend, this never would have happened! I could have been there for her!”
Juliette faces me, her eyes rimmed red and her lipstick faded from the long day. “I know you hate me, and I know you blame me for stealing Rose away from you, but that’s not what happened. Rose…she was always pushing the envelope, seeking the next high, searching for a buzz. I came to this town a little girl who still played with dolls and within weeks of becoming friends with you all, she’d changed everything. She was exciting and new and at first, I was just thrilled to be accepted by someone like that. Rose wanted to be my friend and that felt so good.”
I know how good it feels because once it was gone, I felt awful—like the sun had been stolen.
“Spray painting your house that night was her idea. Dating Finn? Her idea. All the other shenanigans she cooked up? I was along for the ride.” She chuckles darkly. “And I know how lame that sounds. You know, very, ‘Hitler made me do it,’ but it’s true. I did whatever she told me to, until…”
“Until what?” I prompt, terrified, but desperate to know.
“Until she went too far. Until she hurt people,” the look she gives me is guilty, “until the games she started playing were dangerous and scary and threatened to destroy people’s lives.” Her fingers curl around the bag in her hand. “If you want to know the truth, Kenley, I think part of the reason she pushed you out was to protect you and because you wouldn’t have let her go down this path, but not only that, she didn’t want you to go down this path. I only wish I’d had some clarity. I sat by and watched the whole thing unfold and never did a thing, and now she’s gone.”
It’s a heartbreaking revelation. For her. For me. For Rose.
My biggest question lingers, and I may never get another chance to ask. “Juliette, we found Rose’s SugarBabies account—”
Her eyes pop wide open and she holds out her hand.
“Stop.”
“Look, I know it looks bad for Rose, and I’m not—”
“Kenley, for the love of everything you hold dear, do not say another word.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
She takes a step closer and wraps her free hand around my arm. Her fingers are skinny but strong, digging into my flesh. “Rose was into some bad shit—shit that threatened to expose people, important people with a lot on the line.”
“What are you talking about?” I wince at the pain in my arm.
“Don’t you think it’s inter
esting the Wallers accepted the suicide story so easily? Brice Waller? The police will do whatever he says, in two months he’ll be signing their paychecks.”
“Juliette—”
Her eyes have gone wild, dark and feral. “Stay out of this, Kenley. Rose did everything she could to protect you. It’s over. The report is filed. The myth upheld. Don’t fuck with it.”
She releases me and stops to adjust a drooping rose falling out of a vase, then walks away without another look back.
Tears burn at my eyes, but the wind dries them before they fall. I look out over the bridge, in the distance at the dark water of the bay. I’ve seen Juliette express many emotions over the years; anger, pettiness, jealousy, and distaste, but tonight I saw something different: fear.
I’m still thinking about everything from that night. Juliette seemed scared when I mentioned SugarBabies, but the truth is that I don’t trust Juliette. She’s never been nice to me, and that little story she told me definitely put her in a good light.
Am I supposed to believe that the new girl came to town and suddenly my best friend corrupted her? It seems a little too easy and definitely doesn’t corroborate what I experienced personally.
What if it’s all just a trick? What if Juliette doesn’t want me near SugarBabies because it will reveal the truth about her? Or maybe the truth about Rose, like I’ve suspected for a while. Maybe Juliette, like always, is looking out for herself. Maybe she’s protecting someone.
I pull out Rose’s old iPod and open the SugarBabies account. Not Rosemary’s Baby’s account. The one I created; Eden Dollanganger.
I’d never activated it—I didn’t see the point, not after the police declared Rose’s disappearance a suicide—but now, the simple fact Juliette has warned me against it…
My thumb hovers over the blue activation button, knowing that regardless of what Juliette says, I’m opening a box I may regret.
Unlike Rose, though, I’m not in this completely alone. I’ve got Ozzy, Finn, and Ezra. I’ve got questions and I’m not scared of whoever it is that’s got Juliette freaked out. Maybe that’s the difference between us. I’ve already lost everything once and adapted.
I press the button and activate the account.
Afterword
While you wait for Games We Play, the second book in the Thistle Cove series that’s available for preorder on Amazon, make sure you check out Sparrowood Academy another dark romance by Angel Lawson. To keep up with Angel for fun, entertainment and exclusive book updates please join, Angel’s Antics, on Facebook!
I’ve always been a lover of true-crime. I spend way too much time listening to podcasts, reading books and watching documentaries. This fall I had a spark of information, merging my love of murder, thrillers, & reverse harem romance!
Special thanks to the fabulous members of Angel’s Antics, my beta readers, Jennifer and Lisa, my editor Vanessa & Angstyg for the awesome covers!
