THE DIRTY ONES

by JA Huss

  “What was that about?” Connor asks.

  “A package was just delivered.”

  We all look over at Emily, wondering if this is the promised gift she was so insistent about.

  But she’s gone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - CONNOR

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I say. “Where the fuck did she go?”

  “She won’t get far,” the doctor says, pointing at his two apes, then the door. Indicating they should go collect his patient.

  “This house has like two hundred rooms,” Sofia protests.

  “Ninety-seven,” Hayes corrects her, which makes Sofia huff.

  “We’ll find her,” the doctor says. “Don’t worry.”

  “Don’t worry?” Sofia yells. “She tried to kill us ten years ago. That’s the whole reason she was locked up in the first place!”

  Hayes takes over, ushering the doctor out of the room after his guards, and whispers something the rest of us can’t hear. Then he closes the double doors and twists a key in the lock with a loud click.

  I look at Kiera, who is standing close to me, mouth open. Either appalled at the way this whole thing is playing out, or shocked that Hayes just locked us in. Hard to tell which.

  “That’s just great,” Camille says, making herself a fresh drink over at the bar cart. “We’re locked in a room while a murderous crazy person runs free through a mansion. Will Mrs. Peacock kill us with the candlestick in the library? Or the wrench in the billiard room? They’re never going to find her. She could be anywhere.”

  “Forget her,” Hayes says. “We have business to discuss. Camille, I’ll take one of those as well. Anyone else need a drink before we get started?”

  I glance at Camille, wondering how she’s taking her new promotion to bar maid, but she doesn’t seem to care because she’s already lining up five more glasses on the bar cart and is muttering, “We’ll need an entire police department to flush someone out of hiding in this ridiculous place,” as she drops clear cubes of ice into each glass.

  “Let’s just all take a seat, shall we?” Hayes, ever the host, says as he pans his hands over the seating arrangement.

  There’s two couches facing each other, and two chairs acting like bookends on either side.

  I take Kiera’s arm and lead her to the closest couch. She sits, me next to her. Bennett takes the other couch, Sofia takes the chair to my left and Hayes settles in the chair on Kiera’s right, reaching for the book we’ve all come to talk about.

  Camille is holding a tray of drinks, passing them out like she’s done this before, as Hayes opens the book and begins to read.

  “‘They told me to write what I know so that’s what I did. I wrote dirty. I wrote erotic. I wrote the truth. And then they called me a liar. But it’s not me who’s lying. It’s them.’”

  He closes the book and places it back on the side table.

  “We know that part,” Camille says, now finished with her duties, and settles herself on the couch, very close to Bennett. She puts a hand on his knee and he looks at her, smiling.

  Kiera and I exchange a glance, both of us asking the same silent question.

  “So who was it?” Hayes asks. “Who wrote this?”

  Everyone shakes their head simultaneously, muttering out denials.

  “Kiera?” Hayes says.

  “Come on,” I say.

  “It wasn’t me,” Kiera says. No hint of animosity because it’s not necessary. It’s very apparent that Hayes isn’t accusing her, just asking out of obligation.

  “Sofia?” he says next.

  “Not me,” she deadpans back.

  “Don’t bother asking me,” Camille says, heading Hayes’ next question off before he can ask it. And then she meets my eyes. Tilts her head up a little like she’s trying to be superior and boost her confidence, since I seem to be the only one who has no details about her secret life. But it makes me frown a little. Because I didn’t know about Sofia, either. But she didn’t get all haughty about it. “I do write erotic novels,” Camille adds. “And it’s a good idea, so maybe I wish I had, but I didn’t do it. I did not publish that book.”

  “Well, I sure as fuck didn’t write it,” Bennett says.

  Then everyone is starting at me. “Get fucking real,” I say. “Why would I sabotage my life with this bullshit?”

  “That’s not a denial,” Hayes says.

  “I didn’t do it,” I snap back.

  Hayes sighs, takes a sip of his drink, and then says, “It wasn’t me either. So that leaves us with…”

  “Fucking Louise,” Camille says.

  “I was gonna say a mystery,” Hayes clarifies.

  “It has to be Louise,” Sofia says. “She’s the only one who didn’t come.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” I say. “She was never really one of us. And has anyone even talked to her since school? Because I sure as fuck haven’t.”

  We all look to Hayes, because Louise was his partner back then, but he shakes his head no. “I’ve tried. Many times, but she won’t even take my calls, let alone see me when I’ve gone to her family estate.”

  “She still lives at home?” Sofia asks.

  Hayes nods. “Yup. No apartment in the city. I’ve had people on her for years. She’s a goddamned recluse.”

  The sound of running feet outside in the hall makes us all turn our heads to stare at the door.

  “There she goes,” Camille quips, laughing into her drink. I definitely get the impression that Camille started drinking somewhere around daybreak. Two more sets of running footsteps follow, this time pounding ones. “And there they go, chasing her.”

  “This is crazy,” Kiera says. “How the fuck is this even happening?”

  “Well, I call Miss Scarlett,” Camille says. Then she smiles at Bennett and hums, “You can be Professor Plum.”

  “This isn’t a game,” I snap, shooting Camille a look. “And you need to stop drinking. The last thing we need is you stumbling around drunk.”

  “I don’t take orders from you, Connor. Everyone knows Hayes is running this show and he doesn’t care if I drink. Do you, Hayes?”

  Hayes ignores her and picks the book back up. “We need to read this book and see what’s in it.”

  “You didn’t read it yet?” I ask.

  “No. We should do this together. Besides, only Kiera knows everything that happened. The rest of us have no clue.”

  Camille snort-laughs at the unintended pun.

  Hayes continues, still ignoring Camille. And it makes me wonder what kind of relationship the two of them have. Hayes was always in everyone’s business back in school. More of a floater, like Kiera, I reluctantly admit, than a true partner. Because we all knew Louise refused to play along.

  And then I have a sudden, hot flash of jealousy. Because Kiera was there for all of it. And if Louise wasn’t playing along like she was supposed to, I have to wonder if Kiera picked up her slack.

  When I look at Kiera, she’s looking straight ahead, either lost in thought at all the things she witnessed—all the things she wrote down in our book—or just refusing to engage because we’re all thinking the same thing about her and Hayes.

  “Maybe it’s just… fiction?” Sofia asks.

  “Come on,” Camille says. “That’s wishful thinking and you know it. Give me the fucking book,” she says, hand outstretched. “I’ll start.”

  Clearly Hayes wants nothing to do with the reading of this book. Nor do any of the rest of us, because he hands the book over without comment.

  Camille smiles at him, then her tongue playfully slips between her lips and lightly dances across the edge of her top teeth as she looks over at Bennett, before settling back into the couch cushions.

  At least she’s not still squeezing his leg.

  Camille opens the book, flips the page, pausing on what I assume is the dedication.

  “What?” Sofia asks. “What’s it say?”

  Camille takes a deep breath, then on
the exhale says, “‘The future belongs to those who believe in their dreams.’”

  “Why do I know that quote?” Bennett asks.

  “Eleanor Roosevelt,” Sofia says.

  “No.” Camille snorts.

  “Yes. That is a quote from—”

  “I mean, no. He knows it because it was written in the first book too.”

  “Oh,” Bennett says, playing with his phone like he already lost interest.

  It’s telling that none of us actually opened the fucking book in the last twenty-four hours to read the epitaph on the very first page. Almost as telling that we’re going to allow Camille to be the one who delivers the story. Camille is no one’s first choice for anything under normal circumstances. And it hits me then that I should not’ve been surprised to hear that Camille ended up as some do-gooder erotica author. She’s always been a weird mixture of good and evil.

  I guess the part that surprised me the most about what I’ve since learned about Camille is that she’s successful.

  Which maybe makes me an asshole, but I call it like I see it.

  “Prologue,” Camille says. “‘I’m gonna warn you. Our story isn’t for everyone. It’s not even for us. So if you’re looking for the fairytale and the stupid fucking prince on his dumb white horse, you’ve got a hold of the wrong book. Move along. This is not your story, this is not your life, and this is not your opportunity to dip your frightened little toe into the dark pool of water and “try new things” and then pull it out and decide… #NotForMe. When you go in with us you go all in. So make a decision before you turn this page. Because I’m making one promise with this book. Just one. It’s the truth. We are the Dirty Ones and this is our story.’”

  That’s the part I read to Kiera last night. The back cover copy.

  “Nope,” Bennett suddenly says in Camille’s pause. “Louise didn’t write that.”

  There’s a collective sigh in the room. Because it’s true. No one who knows Louise even half as well as we don’t, would ever imagine those words coming from her pen.

  “Then who?” Kiera asks.

  But we’re all thinking the same thing again. We are nothing if not a collection of group thought.

  Kiera.

  That’s Kiera’s voice.

  “It wasn’t me, you guys. I swear to God, I didn’t write this.”

  “Well, no, Kiera, that’s not true at all,” Bennett says. “You actually did write this. Maybe not this copy, but you were the writer back then. You wrote all of it.”

  I just look at Bennett like… What the fuck, dude?

  He shrugs and says, “Hey, I’m just stating the obvious. Kiera was the one with the notebook and pen, OK? That’s all I’m saying.”

  “I had to,” Kiera says, defensive. “We all had to play our part.”

  “We’re not accusing you,” Sofia says.

  I glance at Hayes, mentally telling him to stop this before it starts, but he’s watching Kiera intently. Logging every reaction. Every expression. All her little tells. When he speaks he’s not looking at Camille, he’s looking at Kiera, even though his words aren’t directed at her. “Keep going.”

  “Are we really going to read this whole fucking book out loud?” I ask before Camille can start again. “I mean, shit. How many pages is that? Four hundred? It’ll take days.”

  “Then it takes days,” Hayes says. “Because we need to know what’s in here and we need Kiera to corroborate that it’s real. She’s the only one who—”

  “Then let her read it,” I say. “I’ll take her home and—”

  “No,” Camille spits. “We need to sort this out together. No one leaves until that’s done.”

  I glance at Hayes again. Because he’s awfully accommodating to Camille today. And that’s not normally part of his MO. He’s always had an in-your-face attitude about being in charge of us.

  “Keep going,” Hayes says, shooting me a warning glance.

  But just as Camille opens her mouth to speak, the phone rings again.

  This time Hayes gets to it first, picking up the receiver from the nearby side table just as Kiera is reaching for it.

  Why is she reaching for that phone?

  “Yes,” Hayes barks. Listens, as we all do, leaning forward like that’s gonna help, which it doesn’t. “Yes, OK. Bring it up then.”

  “What was that?” Sofia asks.

  “The package was a notebook and a pen. There’s a message inside.”

  I look at Kiera and find her pale.

  Everyone is silent as we wait. Even Camille has lost her words.

  Hayes gets up, walks over to the door, unlocks it, and steps outside to collect our gift.

  CHAPTER TWLEVE - KIERA

  “It’s not even true,” I say, taking advantage of the pause.

  “What’s not true?” Connor asks.

  “That I’m the only one who knows. You guys were all there too. You don’t need to corroborate anything. Bennett and Camille know what happened to them. Sofia and you know what happened to you guys. Hayes knows what happened to him. I’m not the only one who knows this shit, OK? It’s not true.”

  All of that comes out defensive. I get it. I look guilty as fuck right now. But I didn’t write that book and I’m not going to let circumstance dictate how this all plays out.

  “Why would I write this story? I’m already successful. I’m a New York Times bestseller, for fuck’s sake. I make plenty of money and I have more stories in my head than I know what to do with. I didn’t need this book!”

  “Need has nothing to do with it,” Bennett says.

  “Dude,” Connor interjects. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m just saying. Whoever wrote this book didn’t do it for money.”

  “No?” I spit. “Well, it sure as fuck made a lot of it so far. You don’t get to number three on the New York Times by not selling books. And I’m telling you, I’m not poor. OK? Maybe next to you guys I appear poor, but I’ve got more money than I need. I didn’t write this book.”

  “Who did you leave the book with when you left that last night?” Bennett asks.

  “Ben,” Connor says. “Come on, man. Let up a little.”

  “We all want to know,” Camille adds. “And we all deserve to know too. It’s our story as much as it was hers.”

  “Well,” Hayes says, coming back in the room and locking us back in. “They didn’t catch her yet, if anyone’s wondering where the resident psycho is.”

  “Great,” Sofia says.

  “Candlestick in the library,” Camille chortles. “I’m calling it now.”

  “Fuck her,” I say. “Show us what’s in the box.”

  We all look at the slim box Hayes is holding. He hands it to me and says, “It’s for you, so go ahead and take a look.”

  “For me? What the hell?”

  “It was Emily,” Sofia says. “She planned this whole thing. The book, the visit, all of it. This just proves it.”

  I shoot Sofia a grateful look. Because it seems like only she and Connor are on my side right now. It’s comforting to know we’re still a team, I guess. Even though everything that comes with being teammates is about to be read aloud for everyone to hear.

  “Open it,” Camille says.

  “We already know it’s a fucking notebook,” Connor says.

  “There’s a message,” Camille retorts. “And I want to know what it is.”

  Hayes says, “Read it out loud, Kiera.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. My fresh hell is just getting started.

  The box is shiny and black, wrapped in gold ribbon. And it’s tied in a way so that you can lift off the lid without pulling the bow apart.

  Inside, predictably, is a notebook. It’s softcover with a linen spine, filled with handmade papers. One that looks very much like a notebook I’d own. One that looks very much like the notebook I wrote our story in.

  Blank, thank God. Because if this was our book I was gonna die. I’m holding out hope that The Di
rty Ones that Camille is holding isn’t our story at all. That it’s just some weird coincidence. And this untouched notebook is a much-needed reprieve so I can pull myself together.

  The small envelope inside is white and written on it is ‘For Kiera’ in fancy calligraphy.

  I pull the card out and read. “‘Time to start a new story.’”

  “Great,” Bennett says. “That’s just fucking great.”

  “No,” Sofia whispers. “No, I won’t do this again.” She stands up, takes a moment to collect herself by smoothing out a wrinkle in her dress, and heads for the door.

  Hayes catches her by the arm before she makes it halfway, pulling her back to her chair. “Sit down, Sofia. No one is walking out yet.”

  “I’m not doing this, OK?” She looks around, holding a steady glare as she finds each of our faces. “I won’t do it. So if we all have to go down because of me, that’s how it’s gonna happen. I refuse to do this again.”

  “Chill, bitch,” Camille says as she sips her drink with one hand and flaps the book around with the other. “No one is playing games this time around. Whoever did this to us is gonna get their payback. That’s why we’re here, right?”

  Is that why we’re here? Is it really?

  “We know it’s Emily now,” Connor says. “She’s the one who had the gift delivered.”

  “Come on, Connor. Use your brain for once. How the hell would Emily get her hands on a gift like this? Let alone have it delivered?” Hayes asks.

  “Her fucking family?” Connor says. “She does have one, you know.”

  “They disowned her years ago,” Hayes says. “I’ve kept meticulous records of all her visits and no one has gone to see her in over five years.”

  “God, no wonder she’s so crazy,” Sofia mumbles.

  We all think about Emily’s past decade for a few moments. And I’m sorry she’s been alone in that place this whole time, but she did shoot me, for fuck’s sake.

  I should not have to feel sympathy for the person who put a bullet through my shoulder.

  “Let’s just… calm down,” Hayes says. “We have to know what this book is if we want to understand what it means.