by Amo Jones
He turns to face me. “Yeah, you okay?”
I pull in my bottom lip and tilt my head, ignoring the glare I’m receiving from Bishop. “Yeah, I think.”
“What’s wrong?” Nate asks, pushing his hands into his pockets.
I look over his shoulder at the rest of the Kings, and Nate tilts his head over his shoulder and grins. “Sis, these guys know more than you could ever imagine. Anything you have to say to me is fine to say in front of them.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, looking back to Nate. “For some reason, I have trust issues.”
He grins at me slowly. “Well, hell, I wonder why that is. I told Bishop scaring you in the forest was a bad—”
“Nate,” Bishop grunts from behind him. “I’ll handle it.”
I clench my jaw. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure Nate has me handled. Thanks.”
Bishop wastes no time, stepping toward me, taking hold of my arm, and dragging me out of the atrium. The whispers and chatting stops, and when we reach the entryway, I tug my arm out of his grip.
“What the fuck is your problem, Bishop?” I yell at him, my voice echoing throughout the empty hall. He pushes open the supply closet door and shoves me into the dark room.
“Bishop!” I yell, just as his hand slams over my mouth, pushing me up against the wall.
“Shut up, Madi. What did you want to ask?”
I whack his hand off my mouth. “Can you turn a light on?”
“No.”
Exhaling, I lean my head against the wall. “I want to know why no one is asking about Ally.”
A long silence drags between us until he finally says, “It’s simple. Ally moved away. Anything else?”
So he says Ally moved away and no one questions it? No one questions the Kings? It’s like Khales all over again.
“Yes,” I scoff, suddenly annoyed at his arrogance. “I wan—”
His chest presses against mine and I slam back against the wall again. Opening my mouth, he cuts me off when his soft lips press against my neck, setting off goose bumps all over my body. Fuck. I really need to find a grip on my feelings when it comes to Bishop, or my plan will turn to shit. I’m taking him down, but I won’t complain if he goes down with his face buried between my thighs. May as well enjoy it while it’s happening.
“Bishop,” I warn, and his mouth kicks up in a grin against my hot flesh. “Bishop,” I repeat in the same tone. My eyes close, my breath falling heavily.
“First of all,” he growls against my skin, “you don’t ask any other questions. You follow ours.” His hand skims over my bare thigh and squeezes—enough to leave a bruise. “Second of all, if you want to ask anyone questions,” his minty breath now falls over my lips, “you come to me.” He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and bites down on it. He goes to step backward, but I grip the back of his neck and pull him into my lips. He stills, his lips not opening, so I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist.
Stepping forward, he slams me against the wall, his mouth opening to let me in. He groans, tangling his fingers in my hair before yanking it back roughly.
He looks down into my eyes, the faint creak from the door being slightly open lighting the dark room just enough to see him. “What was that about?” I ask.
“What was what about?” he counters, and I tilt my head, studying how his dark jade eyes now look almost black. How his eyebrows pull in, displaying his concentration.
“I don’t know,” I murmur, looking away. He lets me go, my feet dropping to the floor. Just as he’s about to hit the door, I bite my lip. “Bishop!”
“Yeah?” he mutters, turning and looking over his shoulder.
“Why do you like breaking me?”
He smirks slightly, just enough that I see his dimple on the side of his cheek. “Because it gets my dick hard to put you back together.”
His response doesn’t surprise me, not in the slightest.
“But,” I add, stepping forward, “you never put me back together properly. You steal parts of me, so when you do put me back, I’m all crooked, cracked, and still visibly broken.”
His smile pauses briefly, not enough for me to really catch any meaning behind it. He turns to face me, his eyes locking onto mine. “Because being broken is how you’re going to survive this life, Madison.” Then he turns and leaves, the door closing behind him. I remain in the darkness, his words playing on repeat in my brain. What the hell did he actually mean by that?
SHUTTING THE FRONT DOOR AFTER a long day at school, I drop my bag on the floor. “Sammy?”
Sammy walks in, wiping her wet hands on the dishtowel she has hanging off her belt. “Ah, Madison!” She whacks me with the back of her hand. “Where the hell have you been?” Shrugging, I go on with the lie my dad has me saying. “I disappeared.” Walking into the kitchen, I tug open the fridge and start unloading all the ingredients for grilled cheese. Sammy comes in behind me, leaning against the doorframe.
“Why?” she asks, crossing her arms in front of herself like a worried mother.
“I don’t know.” Pulling out four slices of bread, I place them on a plate and reach for the butter, swiping it on both sides before slamming some cheese in the middle.
“Who were you with?” she questions in the same tone, eyeing me skeptically.
“Uhh, Tatum. We just traveled a bit. I was mad at Dad for something and didn’t feel like coming home. Seriously, Sammy, I’m okay.” I put on a completely fake smile for added effect.
Sammy pushes off the doorframe, waving her hands in the air. “Estúpido jodido adolescente!”
Flipping my sandwiches, I raise my eyebrows at her retreating back. “Huh? You swearing at me, Sam I am?” I tease, grinning, knowing damn well she can’t see me. She’s still muttering off in Spanish when Nate walks in, with Bishop following closely behind him. Great, appetite will no doubt be ruined.
“’Sup?” Nate pulls me into him, kissing me softly on the head. “Oh yum.” He reaches down and steals a sandwich straight out of the pan. I slap the spatula on the back of his hand, a second too slow because he’s already retreating and stuffing his mouth with my delicious creation of carb goodness.
“Screw you, Riverside.” I look over my shoulder and sarcastically smile sweetly at Bishop. “Do you want the other one, since I will have to make more anyway.” I flip the grilled cheese out and place it on a plate. Walking back toward the middle island, I look up at Bishop when I notice he hasn’t answered me. “Hellooo? You want it or not?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares.
“You’re doing that stare thing again. I thought we were past that phase?” Placing the plate on the counter, I slide it toward him. Ignoring his weird Bishop behavior, I pull out another couple slices of bread and repeat the process.
“Question.” Bishop clears his throat.
I look up at him, sucking the cheese off my thumb. “Yes?”
“Don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?” I smile around my thumb.
His jaw clenches. “Unless you want to get fucking ruined right here with Nate in the next room, I wouldn’t do that again.”
“Need a better threat than that.” I roll my eyes, walking back toward the stovetop and placing my sandwich on the pan. “What was your question?” I turn a little over my shoulder and look at him.
He picks up the grilled cheese and takes a bite. “What do you know about your mom?”
I pause, shuffling around the kitchen to find some paper towels.
“Ahhh, she was my mom?” I answer sarcastically. “I knew all there was to know about her—well, what she would share with me. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter right now.”
Rolling my eyes, I finish up my meal and then flip them onto a new plate. Walking toward the bar stool, I slide on top and pick up my food. “So why ask then?”
He shrugs, and just as I’m about to ask another question, Nate walks in with his top off, the shirt tucked into his jeans. “What are we tal
king about in here?” He grins, sliding onto the stool beside mine.
“Oh, you know, random shit.” I take a loud and large bite out of my sandwich. “Oh!” I tap Nate, covering my mouth until I’ve swallowed my food. “I forgot to ask. Have you heard from Tillie?”
Nate looks around the kitchen. “No? Not since the cabin deal.” Nate hasn’t heard from her either? That’s weird. I mean, it was weird enough that Ridge hadn’t heard from her, but the fact that Nate hasn’t got her stashed away somewhere for him to play with whenever he pleases cuts out my idea.
“That’s weird.” I place my sandwich on my plate.
“Why?” Nate and Bishop both ask at the same time. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, tapping on Ridge’s number.
“Because Ridge hasn’t heard from her either, and she never came home from the cabin.”
“That was two months ago,” Nate mutters, his eyebrows pulling in.
“Exactly.”
“I dropped her off at her house, and yeah, she never texted me back, so I left it,” Nate adds, lost in thought.
I hit dial on Ridge’s number and bring my phone to my ear.
“Yo!”
“Ridge?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Sorry,” I murmur, realizing that I never texted him my number. “It’s Madison.”
“Oh!” He sounds surprised. “Hey.”
“Did you ever hear anything back from Tillie?”
“You didn’t hear?” he asks in muffled tones. Beeping cars and light chatting fade off in the distance.
“Hear what?” I answer as my heart pounds in my chest.
Please, God, no.
“She’s been a missing person case since. No one has heard from her and no one knows where she is.”
“What?” I look up at Nate, who is watching me intently. He looks worried; I can see it in his eyes. “No one told me anything because I’ve been out of the country for the past couple of months.” I put my phone down and put it on speaker. “You’re on speaker phone, and Nate and Bishop are here with me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” he snickers, though his tone doesn’t seem too impressed.
“So can you tell us everything, please?” I urge him, pushing my plate out of the way with my now suddenly lost appetite.
“Well, Nate dropped her off at home after your guys’ trip. She stayed for the next couple of weeks but was sick. I went to see her a couple of times, and she was throwing up, pale, and just… sick. Anyway, the last time I saw her, she was acting weird as fuck. She always loved our kick-back sessions.”
I look up at Nate, not being able to pass the opportunity. Grinning, I say, “You mean your sex sessions?”
Nate evil-eyes me, flipping me off. I grin deeper.
“Uhh…,” Ridge mutters. “Yeah… she told you?” he asks into the phone.
“Yeah, anyway, so what happened?”
Bishop pulls out the bar stool next to me, his thigh brushing mine. I flinch slightly, annoyed at myself once again how much my body sparks to life at his mere proximity, let alone his freaking touch.
“So she rushed me out of the house and then I never heard from her again. Her dad said she left with a suitcase and took his car. They found his car off the interstate a couple of days later, but it was empty with the keys left inside of it. The trail has gone cold and, yeah, again, no one knows where she is. Her cards haven’t been used or anything either. She’s just gone.”
A ball forms in my throat. “Why would she leave?” I whisper, confused. Why would she leave and not even leave a note for anyone? I wouldn’t know if she sent me a text because I haven’t had my phone, but what is her reasoning?
“Ridge,” I start, my brain ticking through ideas. “Who else did she hang with?”
“No one. When it wasn’t me, it was you.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “What do I do?”
“There’s not much we can do. I’ve tried everything. Now all we can do is hope she just comes home.”
“Okay. Thanks, Ridge. If I hear of anything, I’ll call you. And you do the same?”
“Yeah.”
Hanging up, I turn to face Bishop. “What do I do?”
Bishop looks to Nate, and I watch as they both exchange a look. Realization dawns at just who is sitting in front of me.
My face straightens. “I swear to God, if you two have anything to do with this, I will kill you.”
“We have nothing to do with this,” Nate says, walking toward the sink and filling up a glass with water. He turns to face us, leaning on the counter. “But it’s weird as fuck.”
“Weird as fuck?” I scoff, getting to my feet. Bishop’s hand brushes over my thigh, and I look down at it before looking up at him and then looking back to Nate. “That’s an understatement.”
“Just leave it for now,” Nate tells me, shaking his head. “She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
My shoulders slack in defeat. “I guess. But why didn’t she come to me if she needed help?”
“Who knows why anyone does anything, Kitty?” Nate walks up to me, kissing me on the head. “I gotta bounce.”
I turn around and watch Nate leave the kitchen before looking to Bishop. “You’re not leaving?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Why?” Honestly, I could do with some time alone.
“I just want to ask you something.”
“You always seem to want to ask me something.”
He gets to his feet and walks toward me. His chest brushes against mine before his finger comes up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you have any memories from when you were young?”
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Four.
Four.
“No,” I answer, keeping my face straight and my posture stern.
Bishop searches my eyes, his dark green ones daring my secrets to come out. “No.”
He leans down, tilts his head, and narrows his eyes. “Are you lying to me, Kitty?”
Lie.
“No.”
He pauses, leaving a beat of silence to stretch between us before inching back. “Fine.” He steps away and turns to walk out the door. “If you lied to me, I will punish you.” Then he’s gone, like a fucking tornado whisking up a whole bunch of untouched old emotions. Emotions I have fought hard for years on end to bury. A ten-worded question brought back ten thousand feelings that I have worked so hard to forget. Slamming my eyes shut, I breathe in and out slowly.
In.
Out.
In.
Ou—
“Fuck this.” I walk to the liquor cabinet and pull down a bottle of Johnny Walker. Twisting off the cap, I bring the tip to my mouth and swallow. The harsh whiskey hits the back of my throat before slipping down, cloaking all the feelings Bishop raised. Looking down at the bench, an idea pops into my head. I know Elena and Dad have gone away for the week. I grin, taking out my phone. I haven’t thrown a party yet, and since Nate has thrown plenty, I think it’s time for me to play catch-up. Unlocking my phone, I look at the time quickly. 7:45 p.m. Perfect. I hit dial on Tatum, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Yaaas?”
“Tate?”
“Yes, bitch. What’s up?”
“Party at my place.”
That perks up her attention. “Oh? When?”
“You come now. The rest can come any time after 10:00 p.m. Spread the word.”
“You know I will,” she says.
I can just picture her from here, wiggling in her chair with excitement. I take a swig of the whiskey and smirk. “See you soon.” Hanging up, I flick my phone between my fingers and listen as the clock ticks loudly in the background. My breathing starts to come in thick, so I take deep intakes of breath and close my eyes.
It’s not real. You’re here, older, at your house. Home. Safe, warm. It’s not real.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Four.
Four.
“Why don’t you like me? It’s your birthday today. You’re supposed to be happy,” I whispered toward the mean boy in the sandpit.
“Because you’re disgusting. Because you’re a life ruiner. Because I fucking hate you.”
“That’s a bad word,” I replied softly, even though I wanted nothing more than to burst into tears. I swallowed past the rejection and handed the boy my shovel anyway.
“I don’t fucking want that. Why the fuck do you think I want that now that you’ve touched it? You’re disgusting.” He got to his feet, kicking at the sand until the sharp stings cut through my eyes.
“Ouch!” I cried, no longer able to fight the tears as they poured down my cheeks. “What did you do that for?”
“Because I fucking hate you!” the mean boy roared, and then he stormed off back toward his mom.
Why did he hate me? I’d done nothing wrong as far as I knew. The first time I met him was today.
“Brantley!” a woman yelled toward him. “Get here now.”
“Hey!” I called out, dusting off the sand from my sundress. “Your name is Brantley?”
“Shut up, freak.”
“Madison!” my mom yelled out from the porch. She was holding a tray of little pirate-shaped cupcakes and wearing a yellow and white sundress. She looked beautiful. I wanted to be as beautiful as her one day. I skipped toward my mom, wiping the tears out of my face. Mommy wouldn’t be happy if she saw me crying, and I didn’t want to get the boy into trouble. I didn’t know why; he was not a very nice boy. I should’ve wanted to get him into trouble.
“Brantley,” my mom said once we both reached her, bending down to my level while still balancing the tray with one hand. “This is Madison.” Brantley must’ve been at least two years older than me. He wore a baseball cap and had an angry scowl on his face. I didn’t know why, but I instantly liked him.
“Hi!” I smiled, holding my hand out to him. Maybe if I introduced myself properly, he would like me better. Mommy always said people liked good manners. “I’m Madison. Are these your cupcakes?” I looked up to my mom. “Are these his cupcakes? Is that why they’re blue and why I’m not allowed to eat them?” My mom looked at Brantley and me nervously.
