She turned to the boy, gnawed on her lip. She didn’t want to face this alone. “Could you come with me?” she asked. “It’s just…I don’t…”
“Of course,” Jordan said without hesitation. “Andrea, I’ll be back in a few. Sorry. Oh, and can you drive us home? I’m a little tired.”
“No problem,” the other girl said. Why were these people so understanding?
Walking to the house was like walking the green mile. Jordan kept pace with her step-for-step, maintaining a respectful distance.
Mitzy pushed open the screen door without a word, holding it so the two youths could enter. Jacqueline refused to look up. She didn’t want to see the disapproval that was sure to be on her aunt’s face.
She and Jordan stopped in the living room. For a long time Jacqueline could only hear her own heart pound in her ears. Oddly, having Jordan there to protect her only made her feel worse.
“Jacqueline,” Mitzy finally said. “Look at me.”
She lifted her head, and the sight of her aunt was shocking. Mitzy had thick bags under her eyes, her hair was a tangled mess, and she wore no makeup. Her hands shook. It was the first time Jacqueline had seen Mitzy look anything less than completely put together. Shame made Jacqueline’s head throb. As if she didn’t feel sick enough already.
“Let me see,” Mitzy said.
“Huh?”
“Show me what’s under the blanket.”
Jacqueline moaned, let the blankets fall to the floor. Jordan turned away while Mitzy looked her up and down, visibly deflating. “Seriously?” the woman said. “I just…there’s no words. Cover yourself.”
She picked up the blankets, disgusted with herself. Not for the first time since she’d woken up, she wondered how in the hell she’d ever thought this had been a good idea.
Mitzy gazed over at Jordan, who’d turned back around now that Jacqueline was decent. “Thank you for bringing her home,” her aunt said.
“No problem, ma’am,” said Jordan.
Her aunt winced. “I’m in your debt.” She considered the both of them. “What happened, exactly?”
Jacqueline opened her mouth to speak, but it was Jordan who did the telling. Mitzy’s eyes widened at the first mention of the Cottard mansion, and as the story progressed her complexion grew redder and redder. By the time it was finished, Mitzy looked ready to explode. Her hands clenched into fists and she breathed deeply. “And that’s what happened?” she asked Jacqueline.
Jacqueline nodded.
“I’m calling the police in the morning,” Mitzy said.
Jacqueline thought of what might happen at school, the rumors that were sure to go around, and her heart thrummed out of control. “You can’t,” she said. “Please, Mitzy, no.”
Aunt Mitzy’s eyes widened. “No? And why not?”
“Nothing happened. He didn’t touch me. It’s all my fault. Please don’t make things worse.”
Mitzy shook her head. “That’s stupid. Dressing like a hooker was your fault. Almost getting raped wasn’t. But what happens to the next girl? One that doesn’t have a close friend to look out for them, or a concerned boy to come save her? How many poor girls has this happened to in the past?”
Jacqueline opened her mouth to argue, but didn’t. Mitzy was right. She wished she could fold into herself until she was small enough to drift away with the dust.
Mitzy took another deep breath. “Go get cleaned up,” she said. “Toss that damn outfit in the trash. Then go to bed. We’ll talk about how irresponsible you were in the morning. Now go.”
For a split-second, Jacqueline felt heat pulse through her neck. She wanted to scream, to ask what a woman who kept weed and a gun in a lockbox upstairs knew about responsibility. All that thought accomplished was to fill her with more guilt. She tucked her head between her shoulders and headed for the stairs.
Behind her, Mitzy was again thanking Jordan for his help. Jacqueline heard the concern in his voice when he said, “She’s young. She’ll learn.”
“She’d better, and soon,” Mitzy replied. “She doesn’t know the first thing about the dangers she’ll face out there. She needs to learn how to protect herself. There won’t always be people there to help.”
Jacqueline closed the door to her bedroom and slumped down on her bed. She heard Jordan’s car pull away, then listened to her aunt busying herself downstairs. Soon after that, the house stilled. Jacqueline waited a few moments and then stood in front of her dresser, letting the blankets she’d held around her fall. She gawked at her reflection. Her face was smeared with the remnants of black makeup, streaking across her cheeks, forming thick lines down her chin. The lingerie she wore was rumpled, the tubing running at the wrong angle across her midsection. Now it was obvious how pathetic her “costume” really was. She wasn’t sexy, wasn’t alluring; the thing in the mirror was a young girl pretending to be an adult, a child who didn’t know a thing.
She rushed out of her room and into the bathroom, crying as she stripped out of her clothes, as she wiped the black from her face. She put on her pajamas and wandered back into her room, sniveling. She pulled back the covers to lie down, but a soft murmur reached her ears. She stared across the room at her dresser. Wiping away her tears once more, she opened the top drawer and pulled out the compact.
Jacqueline took a deep breath, dreading what came next. She didn’t want to tell Mal what’d happened. She didn’t want him to look at her in the same way Mitzy had. But she had no choice. Mal loved her, and always would. If Mitzy threw her out of the house tomorrow, Mal would still be there. He was constant. He was stable. He was forever.
She opened the compact.
Mal’s gray eyes stared up at her, his gaze full of wonder. He didn’t ask her what happened at the party. He didn’t rail into her about the dangers of her reckless behavior.
“I know what to do now,” he said. “It was right in front of me the whole time, but I didn’t see it. I just need to find out where shadows breed. We’re close, Jackie, so close. I can feel it!”
“Close to what?” she whispered.
“Close to getting me out of here. Close to the end of all of this!” His grin widened. “We can finally be together, Jackie. Do you want that?”
Yes, she thought. I want that very much.
CHAPTER 29
Drew Cottard slammed the door of his Lexus and hurried up the driveway. The air was bitingly cold, even for the first week of November. Two other cars were parked in the driveway, a Bentley and a BMW. The Bentley was his father’s, who wasn’t expected back from Aspen for another week. The BMW belonged to Beau Sowinger, Todd’s dad.
A brisk wind blew and Drew quickened his pace, hopping up onto the patio and dashing to the front entrance. He tugged open the door and entered blissful warmth.
Once inside, Drew leaned against the door and fluttered his lips. He peeled off his gloves, flexed his fingers, and looked around. The mansion was absolutely spotless; the hardwood floors sparkled, the expensive area rugs were clean, none of the various tables and countertops had a speck of dirt or dust on them. Every divot in the yard had been filled in, every discarded piece of trash swept away. There was no sign at all that there’d been a party here three days ago. The cleaning company Phoebe had suggested sure lived up to their reputation. A part of him wished they hadn’t, since now there was nothing to keep him from thinking about how everything had gone so damn wrong.
What’d happened at the party was totally his fault. He’d told Todd he could use the spare bedroom to make his movie. It should’ve been easy. It should’ve gone off without a hitch.
But of course it didn’t.
Now his best friend was in a hospital bed with a broken nose, shattered orbit, and bruised kidneys, all because goddamn Jordan Thompson had a thing for some freshman slut. Or was she a sophomore? Don’t matter. Anger coursed through Drew’s veins. Jordan, that spineless prick, had quit the football team on Monday (much to coach Tidwell’s chagrin) and was avoiding his usual crew
at school. He wouldn’t look at Drew and started talking with the Talbot girl’s friends. If Drew hadn’t been so intent on not screwing up his future, he would’ve pummeled the dude as soon as he saw his face. Maybe I should’ve just called the cops on him. That was something Todd had asked of him not a half-hour ago, while he was visiting him at Johnson Memorial Hospital.
Screw it, he thought. I need a shower.
He started toward the staircase on the other side of the room, but a ghostly voice coming from the mansion’s intercom stopped him.
“Drew. Son, come in here.”
“Shit.”
Drew ambled through the portal to the mansion’s west wing. Hardwood floors gave way to plush Persian rugs. He passed by his father’s study, where he and his friends had partied three nights ago.
The door to his father’s office was cracked open, and the hinges didn’t so much as creak when he pushed it inward. The office was the second-largest room in the house, at least thirty feet wide with a high ceiling and stained mahogany flooring. Bookcases lined the walls. It was always colder here than anywhere else in the house. Other than his father’s desk, situated in the far corner surrounded by file cabinets, the only other furniture was a black leather couch facing a trio of uncomfortable leather chairs, sitting in the middle of the room. Voices carried, even when they were whispering. Drew hated it in here.
Alexander Cottard sat in one of the chairs, a large white envelope resting in his lap. He was tall and athletic, dignified in his navy-blue suit, and his hair was dyed pitch-black. His chair was slightly turned, so he could face his guest. Beau Sowinger’s pale cheeks were flushed red, his graying blond hair greased back. Mr. Sowinger was acting vice president of D&D Wholesale, the Cottard family business. He’d also been Drew’s father’s friend since childhood. Both men swiveled to look at Drew when he entered.
“Son, sit down,” Alexander said. “This will only take a few more moments.”
“Yes, sir,” Drew replied. Alexander Cottard was one of the twelve richest men in all of America, according to Forbes. If the man told you to jump, you didn’t ask how high, since you already knew the answer was as high as you can.
Drew sat on the couch and crossed his legs. The leather creaked beneath his rump. Alexander considered him with a nod; Beau Sowinger glared. He turned back to Alexander looking disgusted.
“This situation,” Mr. Sowinger said, “needs to be solved now.”
“It will be. Be patient.”
“Patient? Patient? My son’s in the hospital, Alex. Do you know how much his facial reconstruction will cost me?”
“I pay you enough. You can afford it,” said Alexander. He shook the large envelope he was holding. “We have other problems.”
Drew sunk further into the sofa when Todd’s dad glared at him again.
“Look at me, Beau. Not my son. He is not responsible for Todd’s bad decisions. And his decisions were extremely bad.”
The angry man blinked, without a word of protest. Again, when Drew’s dad spoke, people listened.
“Dad,” said Drew nervously, “what’s this about?”
Alexander considered him with his cold eyes. “Not now, son,” he said, then addressed Mr. Sowinger. “Why is she here, and how? Why are we just finding out about this?”
Beau’s eyebrows lifted. “I don’t know.”
“You best find out before this week is done. I placed Butler in his position due to your recommendation. That means you are responsible for the pervert’s failures. Tell him so, and then accept your penalty.”
“But I thought—” started Beau.
Alexander raised a hand, cut him off. “This is the last Covenant, my friend. Remember that. It should have been us who began the first Trial, and yet it has already started.”
Beau Sowinger swallowed hard. “Yes, Alex. I understand.”
“Also,” said Drew’s dad, “I’m transferring you to Scarborough.”
“Wait…what?”
“Scarborough, Beau.”
“But—”
“No buts. No arguments. I might have been able to quash the child endangerment charges, since Ed Lowell owes me quite a bit, but I can’t risk your son being around the girl any longer. She might contact that reporter I spoke of earlier, which as you know is the least of our problems. The situation has grown…complicated.”
Beau’s head lolled. “Yes, Alex.”
Drew’s eyes ping-ponged between the two of them. Child endangerment? His dad was sending Todd’s family away? What was this about a reporter? And was he talking about the Talbot girl? He had no clue what was going on.
“One more question,” said Beau as he readied himself to stand.
“What is it?” said Drew’s dad.
“Where did the aunt come from? I thought the girl had no family.”
Alexander shrugged, unconcerned. “From the mother’s side. The side that wasn’t important.”
“Oh. Do you want me to look into her?”
“No, Beau. You have other things to do. And preparations to make.”
Beau Sowinger nodded. Both men stood up.
“Good day to you, my friend,” Alexander said. “I hope to see you at church one last time this Sunday before you leave. Also, I think a taste of shade might be in order for your son. If you cannot control him, it will.”
Beau’s face drooped like it was melting.
The men shook hands and Mr. Sowinger left the office, briefcase hanging loosely in his hand. Drew rose from his seat and stared after him, confused.
“Dad, what’s going on?” he asked.
“Just some housecleaning,” his dad replied. He straightened his suit, tucked the large envelope under his arm. “Speaking of housecleaning, very nice job picking up after yourself. You are unlike your brother in that way. I am proud…of that part.”
“Um, thanks,” Drew said, cringing. He hadn’t seen his older brother Derek since his father had kicked him out three years ago. Drew swallowed hard and asked, “Dad, why’d you just transfer Mr. Sowinger?”
“That, son, is the part I’m not so proud of.”
“What part?”
“You were here. You aren’t an idiot. So you tell me.”
“You talking about Todd and the girl?”
“Of course.”
Shit.
Drew shook his head. “Listen, it’s all a big mistake. I mean, she’s been making eyes at Todd for weeks now. And then she shows up at the party all slutty and whored-up. I mean, Todd and her were all over each other! She wanted—”
“Enough,” his father said, raising his hand.
“But dad…”
“No, son. The girl is underage. You and Todd should have known better. You opened yourselves—and your families—to potential exposure and litigation. We seem to have avoided that this time, but trust me, there won’t be a next. No more company at the house when we are away. Not even your girlfriend.”
First Todd was being sent away, and now he’d lost his privileges like he was some ten-year-old. Drew squeezed his hands into fists. “It’s his fault. Freaking Jordan. If he hadn’t stuck his nose in…” he leaned over and punched the couch as hard as he could. “I’ll kill him for this. Her too.”
His father squeezed his shoulder. “You will do no such thing. The fault lies with you and you alone. And you will not lay a hand on Mr. Thompson or Miss Talbot. Neither can be blamed for their actions. They aren’t to be touched.”
Drew scowled. “Whatever. At least do something to Jordan. He broke Todd’s face. Your friend’s son! What’re you gonna do about that?”
“Nothing.”
Drew froze in place. “Nothing? You’ll still write his damn letter for him?”
“Listen to my words, son. If Mr. Thompson still yearns for me to compose him a recommendation, I will do so. He has his role to play in all this.”
“In all what?”
His father raised one eyebrow. “That is not important,” he said. “We are through her
e. Your mother will be landing in two hours. I need to go pick her up.”
“But—”
“We’re through.”
Alexander Cottard went over to his desk, slipped the envelope out from under his arm, and set it in one of his filing trays. “Make sure the office is closed when you leave,” he said before heading out the door.
Drew slumped down on the couch, head in his hands. He couldn’t believe his father was being such a dick. The Cottards were one of the most influential families in the country, and the great Alexander was going to just let all this slide? No, he thought, shaking his head. No effin’ way. Drew’s anger grew. I should’ve been there with Todd. We should’ve done her together. Let’s see Jordan stop that.
From the office window, he saw his father’s Bentley glide down the long driveway. Drew slapped his thighs, stood up, and looked toward his father’s desk. Curiosity got the better of him. He approached the desk and lifted the white envelope his father had been holding out of the tray.
Drew sat down in his father’s chair, flipped the thick envelope over, and undid the metal clasps. There was a hefty wad of pages inside. He studied the top sheet, brow furrowed in confusion.
The face of a very young Jacqueline Talbot stared back at him. He flipped to the next sheet, this one a copy of a newspaper article, and there was the girl again, sitting on the lap of a man with a slightly crooked nose, shoulder-length hair, and glossy eyes. Drew read the headline, and his jaw dropped open.
“No way.”
He scoured sheet after sheet, and when he was finished he sat back, fingers thrumming on the desk. An idea came to him, and he felt the beginnings of a smile.
“So you like secrets, huh?” Drew told the empty office. He turned on his father’s computer and lifted the top of the scanner beside it. “Let’s see what happens when you got no secrets left.”
CHAPTER 30
Jacqueline was sprawled out on her bed, Algebra 2 textbook open before her. I hate math, she thought, sucking on her pencil’s eraser and trying to figure out the answer to the next equation.
Boy in the Mirror Page 19
