by Claire Adams
I hadn't thought about what I would do if anyone knew who I was in a long time. I mean, I wasn't even that person anymore. I hadn't used that name or looked like that in years.
It was like being dunked headfirst into really cold water. Part of me thought I should have known that it would happen eventually, and the other half was just really comfortable believing everything had happened in the past and the rest of the world had left it there like I had.
I hated it had been that easy to unsettle me. It wasn't like I was in danger or anything. My father was dying in prison. I wasn't in contact with anybody who had known me in the past, and if they wanted to track me down, they wouldn't be able to. I had changed my name, and years had changed my appearance.
All that was left was that scar.
Was that what had given it away? I wasn't even sure that that was common knowledge. I had never read any of the articles written about what had happened. Why would I? I had been there. I knew what had happened. I'd probably never forget.
It was just upsetting. That was it. I had left Texas. I hadn't even stepped foot on the mainland since I had landed on Lanai. As far as I was concerned, Frances McCune didn't exist anymore. Abby Terrell had taken her place. She had made something of herself and had a place she could call home, far away from the ugly things that had happened. She had friends, people who loved her. People who treated her like a normal girl and not a sideshow freak because of the things that her father had done.
I hated that it was still who I was: that monster's daughter. I hated that as much as I had tried, I wasn't allowed to just be me anymore. I’d had my life taken from me, and all the years here that I had spent trying to have something that I could call mine because I had built it by myself were all for nothing. He hadn't killed me, but Randall McCune — my father — had taken my life.
I concentrated on the natural sounds around me. The water and the wind. I concentrated on what was real and what I could feel. The things that mattered. It calmed me down, coming here and being able to hear my own thoughts. I was alone, but it wasn't lonely. It was noisy, but it wasn't deafening. My own little place I knew I could run when it was me who had made the choice to. Not where I had to hide because my father had made living impossible.
I thought about going back, but I wasn't ready yet. The worst had passed; now I just wanted to regroup before I had to pretend like nothing was wrong again. I knew I could do it. It would just take time, more time to get me back to a place where it didn't plague me so much anymore.
I looked behind me, suddenly hearing a sound. There was someone else on the beach. I smiled sadly realizing who it was.
I sat quietly as he approached and sat next to me in his dark jeans and shirt.
"How did you know where to find me?" I asked him.
"You told me this is where you came to get away," he said.
"Why did you come after me if you knew that was what I wanted to do?"
"Because you were there for me when I needed you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Well, you can see," I said shrugging. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" he asked. I looked at him. He was looking at me. "If I fucked up, if I did something last night, I need you to tell me. I'm not smart enough to figure it out on my own," he said. I raised my eyebrows.
"Nate, it wasn't you. Last night was amazing. This was something else."
"I wish you came to me instead of running away," he said.
"I didn't run away."
"I was looking everywhere for you. Nobody knew where you were."
"I'm sorry I worried you. I just needed some time to cool off."
"What happened?" he asked gently.
I was silent. I carried the secret of what had happened like it was me who had committed the crime and not my father. If I told him, yet another person would know my secret shame. What if he thought it made me fucked up and a monster like my father? What if he knew that if it ever got out, the media would be all over me and that wasn't what he wanted? What if he just thought I was somehow guilty by association and didn't want to handle my baggage?
"I can't say," I whispered.
"What could it possibly be? There's no way it’s worse than what I told you."
"It might be," I warned.
"I don't care. I want to help you," he said.
Just do it, I thought. What was the worst thing he could do? Leave? He was going to do that anyway. I took a deep breath.
"I was born in Texas," I started. "It was a small town. Rochester. My father and mother owned a small ranch. I was their only child. I'd work on the ranch every day when I wasn't in school. Everyone knew us. Everyone really liked us. My dad was a stand-up guy, community leader, church member... That was why it was such a shock when he did what he did."
"What did he do?" he asked.
"Do you recognize the name Randall McCune?" I asked. He paused for a second.
"It's a little familiar."
"He killed six people in Texas six years ago. He entered a house where a family of five were sleeping. He killed everyone as they slept. He went back to his house and held his wife and child hostage inside while the police attempted to get everybody out without using excessive force.
“He killed his wife, but was apprehended before he killed his child. She was fifteen years old when it happened," I said, remembering the scene as I narrated it.
"Did you know the family?"
"I still have the scar from where he almost used the knife he used on Mom to kill me," I said, my voice cracking.
"Oh my God, Abby," he whispered. I felt hot tears pour down my face.
"I had to leave. I had my name changed and was kept in a group home. They let me emancipate myself from my father because of the circumstances, and as soon as I turned eighteen, I was allowed to move out of state.
“I came here, and I haven't looked back since. He went to prison, where he will stay until he dies. I haven't contacted him since.
“Today, a couple of hotel guests recognized me. They knew my story and who my father was. I've been trying to get away from him and what he did since I was still a kid. I thought it had been long enough and I had run far enough, but I guess not."
"I'm so sorry that you went through that," he said.
"I am, too. I couldn't live the rest of my life known as that monster's daughter. It just ruffled me, what happened today. I needed a little time to get over it."
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" he asked. I laughed.
"Because I couldn't have normal baggage like a kid, or kleptomania, or something. Related to a serial killer? That makes me guilty by association. I'd stay away from me if I were you. It might be hereditary." He laughed lightly.
"Nothing your father did is your fault."
"He's still my father. Whether people think I'm like him or not, they think I'm a freak because of who raised me."
"You're not a freak. He committed those crimes on his own. You aren't responsible for any of it. Besides, if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already." I smiled. He moved closer to me and put his arm around my waist, kissing my temple.
"Did you hear about the story?"
"I must have, but it happened a while ago," he said.
"So, you've forgotten. I've tried so hard to do that. I thought I would be safe here. Out of his shadow. Of all the things I could possibly be known for…" I said darkly.
"They had no right to say that to you. Even if they did know, they should have kept it to themselves."
"It was a nightmare during the trial. They made me take the stand with my neck bandaged up. Then afterward, they wouldn't leave me alone. People were scared of me or wanted to interview me. They wanted to write their articles and human interest pieces. Laugh, point their fingers."
"I'm so sorry, babe," he whispered. He kissed me again. "None of that can touch you now."
"But they know," I protested.
"They are going to leave at some point and without proof, it's just a s
tory from two wackos who wanted to start a rumor." I leaned my head against his shoulder.
"What if they won't leave me alone? When he said it, I remembered everything like I was there again."
"I'll take care of them," he said.
"How?" I asked, turning to look at him.
"Let me do this for you, Abby," he said, not answering my question. "Come on. You can't spend the whole day here. The sun is going to go down soon.”
"Just a little while longer?" I asked. We sat there twenty more minutes before he walked me to the car he came in and drove us back to the hotel.
He peeled my clothes off and put me in my bed when we got to my house. He made me tea and sat with me until I fell asleep, talking to me and letting me talk.
I wasn’t a freak when I was with him. My past didn’t exist. It had shaken me, what had happened, but I needed this. He’d help me get over it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Nate
"What's been your worst experience with a guest here at the hotel?" I asked.
"Worst experience? The people who come here are usually pretty tame," Makani said. She and Abby were behind their desk. It was early, and they had just come in. Abby from my suite and Makani from her place — or Keno's place, if I had to guess, judging how happy the two of them had been since the night we had met at Abby's house.
She had been Abby's friend and the other front desk girl to me for most of the summer. I'd only ever been around her with Abby or talked about her with Keno, but since that night at Abby's, things had changed. The four of us had hung out a few more times, and I had gotten to know Makani.
She was such an important person in Abby's life, it only made sense that I got to know her, too. That was where I was, doing shit because I knew it would be important to Abby. Getting to know her friends, her life, her plans — everything I could get her to tell me.
The thing about her dad... It still sort of surprised me whenever I remembered it. I knew there was still so much stuff I wanted to know about her and so much I didn't know, but some stuff you never expected to hear. Abby had seen some shit.
Since she had told me, I had looked the story up, really because I had just wanted to see whether it jogged my memory at all. I got about two articles deep before I stopped searching.
There was a lot of stuff, not just news stories. There were forums and threads discussing it, crime scene pictures, audio of the police negotiations with Abby's dad when he had her and her mother hostage. Sick shit like conspiracy theories about where Abby was now and what she was doing, the daughter of this monster who had killed a bunch of people.
It made me mad. I knew how people were. They weren't interested in the case and what had happened to Abby because she'd just been a kid when it had happened, and they wanted to hear she was doing okay. They wanted to track her. They wanted to watch her because she was interesting to them now.
I had made a rule a long time ago that I would never, ever try to see what people were saying about me and the band. I avoided news and rumors about us because the opinions of thousands of people who knew nothing real about me meant jack shit.
It wasn't a compliment that people wanted to know what you were up to; it was stupid. It was empty because, at the end of the day, they got their shits and giggles at your expense and moved the fuck along. All you got was thousands of people judging you.
They were different, Abby's situation and mine, but there were enough similarities there to make me feel like I could relate. Being recognized had really fucked her up for a couple days. I couldn't imagine being that kid, having to watch your father murder your mother in front of you, and then try to murder you, too.
If she had turned out fucked up somehow, shit, no one would have blamed her. But she hadn't. She was the sweetest girl I knew, and she didn't deserve any of that shit happening to her. Any of it.
She was doing a lot better now. Makani and I hadn't really left her alone much. She had made a couple more trips out to Polihua Beach and now seemed like she was back to her regular self again.
"You have to have some stories," I insisted.
"This is a five-star resort. We don't really get backpackers coming through with drugs and parties," Abby quipped.
"The worst debauchery in the world happens at places like this. What's worse than a creep with money?" I asked. They laughed.
"I don't really see it," Makani said, shrugging.
"Oh, you know who has the real horror stories? Housekeeping," Abby said.
"Oh yeah, the honeymooners?" Makani said.
"What about them?" I asked.
"What usually happens on a wedding night?" she said, smirking.
"Aolani, our friend who works housekeeping, told me she found the mother lode of sex toys in one couple's suite. They were everywhere with lube all over the linen, and the furniture was all skewed. They didn't bother to hide anything. She didn't know what to do, so she just lined them all up on the bed like pillows," Abby said.
"This is like a real vacation spot, though, you know? Like there aren't enough strip clubs here to really see how fucked up people can get," I said.
"Discretion is important. You're kind of paying for it when you pay for the hotel," Makani said.
Didn't I know it? Everybody who had been in my suite knew I was an addict. They had to know. I hadn't taken that many steps to hide it. I threw used needles in the trash with everything else. I had left my kit lying out so often, anybody who had really wanted to know what was in there would have been welcome to take a look. I had gotten rid of everything. Even the bag I used to stash it all in, gone.
"Do you get old, married business guys who are here on vacation with women who are obviously not their wives?" I asked. The girls laughed.
"Ugh, it's so upsetting. You should see the guys we run into when we go out in the city. They can't keep their eyes off your girl here," Makani said. Abby smiled shyly. Any guy who could had to be blind.
"Next time, I should join you guys," I said.
"Why? You're looking for a little friendly competition?" Abby teased.
"There's no competition, babe; I already won," I said smirking. Makani laughed, and Abby rolled her eyes, smiling.
I heard the door behind their desk open and looked up, seeing the manager walk through it. He looked at me and it seemed like something clicked in his head as he did. He glanced at the girls before walking around the desk to stand near me.
"Mr. Stone," he greeted me. "Everything is well, I hope?"
"Everything's great," I said.
"Do you have anything planned today?"
"Nothing really," I said, looking over at Abby.
"There is a luau tonight," she mentioned.
"About that," Joseph said, pausing. "Something happened. We're down two performers. That shaves almost twenty minutes off the event run time."
"How did that happen?" Abby asked.
"One canceled. The other had double booked. The point is they're not coming."
"Couldn't it just run shorter?" Makani asked.
"Ideally? Yeah, it could if I had found this out earlier. There is no way we would be able to get someone booked today for a performance tonight," he said.
"Would you have to cancel the luau?" Abby asked.
"I don't want it to come to that," he said, looking stressed.
Sounded rough. Running a hotel must have been a pretty shitty job, now that I thought about it. Maybe he liked it; there had to be people that did. He hadn't said anything after that. Had he come to make the announcement, or had he actually wanted us to tell him what to do?
I looked at Abby and noticed her looking at me. Makani and Joseph were, too. They all were. I looked between each of their faces and realized what the fuck they wanted.
"No."
"Please, Nate," Abby said.
"No. I'm not doing a show."
"Nate, it's one of the last luaus of the season; we can't cancel it," she insisted.
"It would be a huge favor," Jo
seph said. I looked over at Abby who was looking up at me, making this face I wished she'd stop making. Her eyes were big and blue, and I didn't stand a chance.
"Don't look at me like that, Abby," I said.
"Please?" she asked coyly. Shit.
"This isn't fair," I sighed. I looked between the three of them again before nodding. The girls cheered. Joseph exhaled, looking really relieved.
"Thank you, Nate. Of course, I don't expect you to do anything without compensation," he said. I didn't care about being compensated. I cared about not doing this shit in the first place because I didn't fucking want to.
I told him it was fine. He asked me to go with him to talk to the event coordinator about set up and what I would need for the performance. I couldn't believe I was doing this again.
I had done all this before already. When I had gotten myself in the last luau, I had had to come to Joseph and basically beg for a four-minute block to do my thing. That had been different, though. It had been four minutes, and it had been for Abby because I was out of options to get her attention. This was almost twenty minutes. This was an entire set, and they thought I had enough to do it alone.
I ended up back at my suite when Joseph was done with me. As good a place as any. I mean, I had to practice now, I had a show.
Abby didn't come back up until her shift was over and the luau was just a couple hours away. During that time, I'd put together a set list, mostly things I had written on the island since the summer had begun and just one or two Remus throwbacks.
I wasn't worried about what I would play; I was worried about playing at all. Once Abby arrived, it was like she was enough of an audience to make me start freaking out about performing. The anxiety had been slowly building the whole day, but we were just a few hours out now, and I had never in my life been this nervous to get on a stage.
I had always banked on my music as the one thing I was good at. Not today, though. I was shitting myself. She was sitting on my bed, waiting for me to get ready so we could leave.
"Babe?" I asked.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think Joseph would kick me out if I refused to do the performance?" I asked lightly, looking back at her from the closet.
