Dead Girls Don't Keep Secrets

by Ames B Winterbourne

  As Jessica drags Ryder toward the staircase, he turns back to me and winks with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  Once Jessica escorts Ryder out, the eyes that were on me minutes ago find something else to focus on.

  I casually thrust my hands through my hair, trying to comb it to make it look tame, and give up halfway through. I wait for a beat before deciding to follow them upstairs, just outside of Felicia’s bedroom.

  The doorway is left open, enough for me to get a good view of Felicia’s bed.

  There, Ryder sits, while Jessica walks out of sight and into Felicia’s adjoining bathroom.

  “I don’t know what happened. One second we were standing there—I was being an attentive boyfriend and everything—and the next thing I know, she’s throwing a cup of whiskey in my face.”

  “She’s crazy! What do you expect? What are you even thinking dating her, Ryder?” She sounds exasperated but kind of cheerful.

  “Well, she’s different when it’s just the two of us.” He sounds wistful.

  “Oh, please. Lake screams psycho bitch.” Jessica laughs. Pot meet kettle. “Why date her? Did you make a bet with someone or something?”

  “No …” His voice takes on an irritated tone. “It’s not that. Actually, she’s a really great person. She’s smart, funny, and kind. Sure, her humor can be cruel, but I’m a bit of a masochist, so I think it’s sexy. She really does feel bad that Felicia’s dead. I mean, she doesn’t want to admit it, but I highly doubt she ever wanted Felicia to die … especially after losing her mother the same way.” I catch a glimpse of Ryder’s face. His eyes are fixated on the floor in front of him. The edges of his mouth are downturned, and he looks troubled.

  I hear Jessica giggle like it’s funny. Then, she walks back into the room. My mouth falls open and I suppress the urge to throw open the door and kick her in the cooter. In the time I assumed she was just getting a towel or something for Ryder’s face, she was undressing, too.

  There Jessica stands in a black mesh bra and black lace under-thing. It isn’t really underwear, but it isn’t a thong, either. It’s just material draped around her vag like a veil. Above the fabric is a bunch of little rhinestones. Yes, this girl vagazzled her vajayjay and, to top it off, it’s covered in pink glitter. She has a damp rag in her hand and holds it out to him. “Can we not talk about Felicia or Lake for like two minutes?”

  I hear Ryder’s sharp intake of breath. “What are you doing?” I narrow my eyes at him as he takes in her outfit.

  “I know I’m not the smartest girl or the funniest, but I could be very good to you, Ryder.” She hands him the rag for his face. “Unlike Lake, I could give you exactly what you need.”

  “And what do I need?” His eyes move back to her face, and his voice is hard.

  “You need someone who can please you, someone who knows exactly what you like. Someone who doesn’t try to fight with you over everything.”

  “Maybe I like her spunk,” he spits out.

  “I’ll show you spunk if you want it.” She nibbles on her lip. I don’t get why girls think lip biting is sexy. It doesn’t make sense how displaying how well you bite can make any guy horny. You’d think it would make them nervous to see how well you’re good at chewing on something.

  “Are you seriously trying to seduce me at your best friend’s funeral? In her bedroom?” He sounds disgusted.

  She just continues to giggle. “Like Felicia would care. If this were my funeral, she’d probably be doing the same with one of her many men.”

  “Many men?” Ryder asks. “But wasn’t she dating Jaxon?”

  “Dating him? Yeah, she was dating him, but that doesn’t mean anything. Felicia had an appetite for more than what Jaxon was offering. She was crazy about sex. I could be crazy about sex, too, but I’m pickier than her.” Yeah, right. So, screwing the thirty-year-old part-time school janitor instead of the forty-year-old full-time one means she’s picky.

  “So, what? She just opened her legs for anyone?”

  “Not anyone. Mostly the highest-paying customer for Madam’s Pleasures.”

  “Madam’s what? Are you saying Felicia was a hooker?” He sounds shocked.

  “Felicia always got what she wanted. And she used what her mama gave her to get it. Did she sleep with men for money? Sort of … but really it was for their secrets.”

  “Secrets?”

  She blows out a breath. “Can we not talk about Felicia anymore? It’s depressing.”

  “Aren’t you sad about her death?” Ryder asks.

  She shrugs. “Sure … why not?”

  “That’s not very convincing.”

  She huffs out an annoyed breath. “Yes, I’m upset she’s dead. Part of me feels like it’s my fault.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, she was supposed to meet me that night, but she changed her mind at the last minute.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. If only she saw me, maybe things would be different. Maybe if I told her we should definitely meet she wouldn’t have slit her wrists and jumped that bridge. I knew she was distracted lately, but I didn’t think she’d off herself.”

  “Why did she say she was canceling?”

  “She said she had plans. I assumed she had to meet that big-spender couple or something. She was always canceling for clients. This one time, she let it slip there was a couple that dropped a mint to spend time with her. Ugh, it was so annoying.”

  “You never thought to use it against her?”

  At that moment, Jessica pales. “I could never. Felicia knew things about everyone, and she knew how to use it to her advantage.”

  “Did you ever work there?”

  She halts for a second. “No.”

  “Was that what she had on you?”

  “No, I didn’t work there. Felicia was a born leader. She had something on everyone, and I looked up to her. Wouldn’t anyone want to be on the most powerful person’s good side?”

  I don’t know if I believe that or not, but Jessica does have a point. She isn’t going to give anything else away, but the fact that Felicia might have met a client on the day she died… is definitely something to investigate. It makes me wonder if that person might have something to do with Mom’s death, too. But it makes no sense.

  “Everyone thinks I’m an idiot and a slut. Even if I used it against her, no one would take me seriously.”

  “But with Felicia gone, they might,” he says.

  “That’s not how popularity works. I’m already losing face with the cheer squad. No one wants to take orders from the girl at the bottom of the pyramid,” she says coldly. “Anyway, why are you dating Lake Lewis?”

  “Because I like her.”

  “It’s suspicious. I mean, Felicia and Lake didn’t get along, and now Felicia’s dead and you just so happen to be dating Lake.”

  I almost gasp in shock. Jessica knows what suspicious means. She has a bigger vocabulary than I thought.

  “I really do like her. I always have.” Once again, Ryder is laying it on thick.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I highly doubt that. If you did, you wouldn’t be here right now with me,” Jessica says as she moves her face closer to Ryder’s. He doesn’t back away.

  I come to a standstill. She’s going to kiss Ryder. But why can’t I breathe?

  “Lake? What are you doing here?” I jump and pull away from the doorway to find Jaxon Smith giving me a wary eye.

  “I’m just … looking for the bathroom,” I say.

  He lifts a brow and peeks his head in the doorway, obstructing my view from whatever Ryder and Jessica are doing.

  “Ah, I heard you and Frost were dating. Why is he in there with Jessica?” He gives me a pitying look. Definitely not a look I ever want him to give me
.

  “It’s not really what you think,” I blurt out.

  “What?” He sounds concerned for me, looking at me like a worried parent. I don’t know how this makes me feel.

  I bite my tongue. Fuck. To make everything convincing, I have to play up my relationship with Ryder. But I don’t want to lie to Jaxon. It doesn’t feel right.

  “I mean, whatever you saw in there. I threw whiskey in his face.” I hang my head in shame.

  He laughs and says, “No way? It’s about time some girl did that.”

  “Yeah.” Part of me really does feel bad about it, especially because it was legit whiskey. I doubt that damp rag Jessica brought him has done anything for his burning eyes.

  “What are you doing at Felicia’s funeral, anyway?”

  I shrug and frown, trying to look like I actually feel bad. “Thought I’d give my condolences to her father.”

  “Mayor Craig does look really upset about it.”

  “I know how it feels to lose someone you love unconditionally. So, I can only imagine what he’s going through.” It would be a good lie, but it isn’t. I know how it felt to lose someone who meant the world to you. I don’t think it’s fair for the mayor to go through this alone. At least I had Dad. Mayor Craig has no one.

  “Yeah.”

  “How are you doing?” I change the subject.

  “To be honest? I feel guilty.” He gives me a halfhearted smile. “I mean, my girlfriend died. I should be feeling upset, sad, whatever, but really, I feel relieved. I’m finally free to be myself.”

  “Yeah?” I don’t know what that means. Jaxon is the perfect guy. Whatever Felicia had on him has to be something he never wanted anyone to know.

  “I can do what I want, be with who I want.” His eyes soften when he gazes down at me. My heart’s beating like a jackhammer. “That’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah …” He takes a deep breath and starts to speak, but Felicia’s bedroom door flies open. There Ryder stands, glaring at us.

  “What’s going on here?” His eyes are bright red, but from the wetness of his suit and hair, it looks like someone threw a bucket of water on him.

  “Just talking, Frost.” Jaxon straightens, standing at his full stature. He really is tall, taller than Ryder, at least. Not to mention, he’s in one hell of a good-looking black suit. I never thought Jaxon could be any sexier than he already was, but Jaxon in a suit is something else. “That’s what you two were doing, too. Right?”

  Jessica is fully dressed again, looking put out. “Shockingly, yes.”

  I almost feel triumphant in her dismay. I guess Ryder actually turned her down.

  “What were you two talking about?” Ryder shifts his stare from Jaxon to me.

  “Nothing.” Jaxon’s cheeks tinge with pink.

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Ryder grits his teeth.

  Jaxon chuckles. “Jealous, Frost?”

  I want to roll my eyes. Ryder would never be jealous. He’s a jerk; if anything, he wants to brand me as his to piss me off.

  “Maybe just a little,” he says with caution. “This relationship thing is pretty new to me. But I kind of like not sharing…” He gives Jaxon a wry smile “Not that I’d ever be worried about sharing with you, Smith.”

  My own cheeks heat. Is he saying Jaxon would never be interested in me? That I’m not good enough? I already know that, but hearing him say it hurts.

  “Ryder!” I snap.

  “You can be such a tool, Frost,” Jaxon says, and then walks away without another word.

  Jessica snickers.

  “You have my number, Ryder,” she says in a breathy tone. She pats his chest and struts off.

  Once they’re well away from us, I whisper-yell, “You dick-pickle! How could you humiliate me like that?”

  “Humiliate you?” He looks at me in disbelief. “He was flirting with my girlfriend.”

  “And you were just about to be mauled by Jessica, the last I saw.” I hate that I sound jealous. I hate, even more, that I might actually be.

  “Nothing happened. I turned her down.”

  “Sure.” Though I’m relieved by his words, I don’t want to give it away.

  “Really, I did! And she wasn’t happy about it, either. Actually, she was pretty pissed. I pushed her away and went to the bathroom to wash my face. That whiskey really stung.”

  Suddenly, the tightening in my chest disperses, and guilt sets in. “You’re the one who gave me the whiskey,” I grumble. I can’t look Ryder in the eye. “Nothing really happened between you two?”

  “Were you jealous?” He sounds almost hopeful.

  “Were you?”

  “I asked first.” He flashes his dimples my way.

  I turn my eyes from him. I can’t look at him without squirming. “I was in character.”

  He bites his lip, suppressing a smile. Oh. Lip biting. I get it now. “You need to learn to lie better.”

  “I’m not lying,” I insist. I don’t like that Ryder can see through me.

  He changes the subject. “So, while you thought I was kissing Jessica, in fact, I was finding out about a company called Madam’s Pleasures.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s an escort service. Apparently, all these girls are paid to fulfill creeps’ fantasies. The boss lady apparently approaches hot teenage girls who are looking for community service, since she does some sort of charity thing, and offers big bucks to them if they work for her.”

  “What?” I gape at him. “No way.”

  “And listen to this: Apparently, the lady works with animals on her farm. She runs some sort of bed and breakfast.”

  I freeze. No way. It can’t be. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. To be honest, Jessica seemed to know a lot. I think she probably works for that Dorothy lady.”

  “Did you say Dorothy?” I swallow.

  “Yeah, her name is Dorothy Silvers. Do you know her?”

  “Yeah, I know her,” I say, the world around me shattering even more. “She’s my aunt.”

  Chapter 10

  The next day, Ryder and I arrive at my aunt’s quaint bed and breakfast that lies on a small plot of land my grandfather used to call a “ranch.” Really, it wasn’t a ranch since there weren’t any animals living on the land—unless you count my aunt’s five bloodhounds that shit all over the property like they owned the place. My grandparents decided to open a bed and breakfast that would offer the feel of home in our small town. It was mostly used for corporate retreats, and since Aunt Dorothy took charge of the business, she planted large trees all over. She even had them install a faux pond to make it look like a perfect getaway.

  I know Ryder is ready for anything, but I’m not. I mean, think about it: My aunt is a pimp—madam—whatever, and I had no clue that this was happening. Like, where have I been? How long has this been going on? And if there are girls working for them, like Jessica and Felicia, how many of them know about my family and talk even more trash about me behind my back?

  I’m not sure it was the smartest thing to bring Ryder along, but he didn’t budge, especially since he seemed so eager to meet an actual madam. He’s giddy, like a little kid on Christmas who just found out his new girlfriend’s aunt is a pimp. On the car ride over, he asked all sorts of questions, like: What does a madam really do? What kind of clientele do you think she has? Do you know anyone who frequents her bed and breakfast? What exactly makes a whore a whore? What kind of sex talk did she have with you? I smacked him for that last one.

  Aunt Dorothy has been my savior all my life. When Mom died, she took me in. She bought me my first box of tampons and relieved my father of the grueling task of giving me the sex talk. Instead, she just gave me a nineties book on puberty and told me to use a box of condoms. It
was better than Dad taking out his G.I. Joe and one of my old Barbie dolls.

  I’m determined to clear my aunt’s name. This can’t be happening. It really can’t. Oh, god, what will Nana and Poppop say? They put their blood, sweat, and inheritance into this place before they retired to Miami.

  We’re standing outside the bed and breakfast. I watch through the glass front door as an older male guest talks to the receptionist, making her giggle. I wonder if she’s one of those girls, too.

  Ryder claps his hands with excitement and says, “Are you ready for this?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m not ready to confront my aunt, who’s like a mother to me, about being some sort of pimp.”

  “Deep breaths, Lake,” Ryder says. I want to smack the cocky smile off his face. “What? I’ve never met a pimp before. I’m both nervous and excited at the same time.”

  “Just do me a favor. Don’t speak. You’ll screw this all up if you do.”

  “Do you even have a plan?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I lie. I don’t have a freaking clue what I’m going to do.

  “What is it?”

  “Well …” I clear my throat. “I’m going to go in there and ask her straight up if she’s prostituting teenage girls, and then—”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to go over well.”

  “Well, what do you expect?”

  He shrugs and says, “Your aunt owns a bed and breakfast. I bet she probably has the girls work out of there.”

  I don’t even want to think about that.

  “So, what?”

  “So, what if we do this: Say you’re introducing me as your boyfriend. Then, when you leave, I’ll try to warm up to your aunt and get on her good side, gain her approval of our relationship, while you go snooping for some answers.”

  “You think that will work?”

  “I’ve seen enough mystery movies to know how to create a diversion.”

  “Life isn’t a movie, Ryder. And you being my boyfriend? Aunt Dorothy would never believe it.”