“Yes,” I replied with an unpleasant shudder. I wished I could forget that awful night.
“Rob Seagrave was there, and he kept telling us that he had…” Rosie made air quotes with her fingers. “Connections to dangerous people. It all makes sense if you connect the dots. Rob Seagrave belongs in jail.”
I took a large sip of my drink and slammed it clumsily back down. The muscles in my body began to relax, melting warmly under my skin. I wished there was an easier way to numb myself, to dull the piercing ache that slammed into my chest. With each passing day, I felt like the nightmare was never going to end.
“Hey,” Rosie said softly. “The police are onto it. Whatever happens, justice will be served.”
“Yeah,” I said grimly. “Let’s hope.” I took another sip of my drink.
“Just…try to hold yourself together a little longer. We’re only a few weeks away from graduating. I know it’s hard to focus, but—”
“Ya know what’s weird?” I asked as I stared blankly into my empty glass. “I can’t accept the finality of it. I miss her as if she’s an ex, not someone who’s actually gone forever. I can’t stop craving her company…the touch of her. It’s like she’s still alive, and I’ve just been missing her for a while.” I let out a twisted, manic chuckle. “God help me. I’m in love with a dead woman.”
Rosie looked thoughtfully into my eyes. “You weren’t happy with her, Dani. I know that losing her makes you focus on the good times, but you can’t forget about the parts of your relationship that weren’t perfect.”
“It wasn’t her that made me so unhappy,” I said, slurring my words. My movements became sloppy and loose. “It was everything. My life. The constant pressure. My parents drilling it into my head over and over again that if I wasn’t a goddamn superstar, I didn’t deserve happiness. I could never just be my fucking self and pursue what I wanted…” My words trailed off, and I slammed a hard fist onto the bar.
Rosie glanced around the room awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make you unhappy.”
I sighed. “No. You didn’t. It’s just…Leah made everything so simple. Also complicated, because love tends to complicate things. But she didn’t view the world the same way everyone else in my life does. All she wanted was love, loyalty, and simplicity.” I fiddled with my thumbs, staring solemnly at my lap. “On the night of the bonfire, we got into an argument. I promised her I’d make more of an effort to visit her. I said I’d try to distance myself from my friends.” Shaking my head at myself, I said, “I didn’t keep that promise. Not even for a day. That trip to the beach house was supposed to be for us, but I screwed that up too. She’d still be here if I hadn’t thrown that stupid party.”
“I’m sorry I never understood,” Rosie said with a frown.
“It’s okay,” I said, spinning the ice around in my drink. I stood up to grab the bartender’s attention, but stumbled. Drunkenness had taken full control over me by now. My knees buckled. I slipped and fell to the floor, my chin making sharp contact with the edge of the bar. Pain shot into my jawbone.
Rosie gripped my forearm tightly, breaking the fall. “Jesus. How many drinks have you had?”
Slurring lazily, I said, “More drinks than you’ve had boyfriends.”
“Okay,” Rosie said as she helped back up. People around the bar stared at me, either laughing or rolling their eyes. “You need help, Dani,” Rosie remarked. “I can’t keep mothering you like this.” She wrapped her arms around me and guided me toward the exit of the bar. “Did you hear me?”
Once outside, we crossed the sidewalk. Rosie buckled me into the passenger seat of her car. My head hung lazily and drool spilled from my mouth. Pointing a finger in my face, she said, “You better clean yourself up soon. The drinking has gone too far.”
She slammed the door.
Chapter Eighteen
After driving me home from the bar last night, Rosie had guided me to my room and tucked me into bed. When I awoke the following morning, distant chatter sounded from outside my bedroom. There were a few light footsteps, a male voice, and a low cough. I couldn’t tell if there was a guest in the apartment, or if the noise was coming from the TV in the living room. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Rosie had invited friends over after having to carry me out of the bar last night. I was utterly plastered by six o’clock, and I was passed out under my covers by eight.
Embarrassment and shame hurtled through me as I sat up in bed, my temples aching. My tongue felt dry, so I rose from bed and tiptoed toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
I crossed the narrow hallway and entered the living room. But I froze when I caught sight of the last person I wanted to see.
My mother stood in front of the television with her arms crossed. Morning sunlight poured through the windows, making me squint. She was dressed in her normal attire: a fancy blazer, dress pants, and designer shoes. The TV displayed a news report about Leah. My mom didn’t seem to notice me enter the room, so I quietly stood out of sight and listened to the program she was watching.
“Several reports of harassment have erupted following the disappearance of twenty-two-year-old Leah Herrignton, who left a college party two weeks ago and has been missing since. Since fraternity president Robert Seagrave has been identified as a suspect, college students have gathered to protest outside his fraternity house. The president’s father has expressed his frustration to the press.”
The news anchor was standing in front of the frat house. Rob’s father stood beside him. “This is getting ridiculous,” he said as the news anchor held a microphone in front of his mouth. “People have been gathering outside my son’s residence to shout insults and vandalize the property. My son is a respected student, an athlete, and an upstanding member of the community. The accusations made against him are unwarranted and without merit. The harassment needs to stop now.”
The camera panned away from Mr. Seagrave and zoomed toward the fraternity house, where the word MURDERER had been spray painted on the front door.
My mother clicked off the TV. “Holy hell,” she muttered. Then, in a louder voice, she said, “Any reason you’re hovering behind my back, Danielle?” Her back was still facing me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“My name is on the lease for this apartment. I have a key.” She spun around to face me. She scanned me from head to toe, making me squirm under her gaze. “You’re hungover. I can tell.”
“I just had a few drinks with Rosie. We—”
My mother raised a hand to silence me. “Don’t start. I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve had enough of this. Get dressed. You’re coming home.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough for you to clean yourself up and get well. Don’t bother arguing with me. Your father is expecting you soon. We’re having a family meeting at noon.”
I wanted to argue, but I knew it wasn’t worth it. The sharp glare in my mother’s eyes spoke dangerous volumes. She was serious, and if there was anything I knew about that woman, she was not to be fucked with.
“I’ll be waiting in the car,” she said.
She stormed out the front door and closed it behind her. I went into my bedroom to begin gathering enough belongings to last the weekend. As long as I pretended to stay focused on my studies, my parents would see that I was working hard and leave me alone. Hopefully, I’d be back at my apartment by Monday.
After packing a small, drawstring bag, I passed Rosie’s door. Pressing my ear against the door, I knocked lightly.
“Rosie? You up?”
Bed sheets rustled and light footsteps resounded until the door was pulled open. Rosie poked her head through the opening. She was wearing a black bra and laced panties, while her hair hung to her shoulders a wavy mess. Her eyes were puffy from sleep. “What’s up?” she asked in a cool voice.
“I hope you’re not mad at me.” I said ruefully.
Rosie rubbed her eyes groggily, the
n said, “Just be thankful I’m a good friend. I got you home safely.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. “I wish I could thank you more formally, but my mom’s here. I just thought I’d grab you real quick to let you know I’ll be gone for the weekend. I’ll see you Monday, hopefully.”
I attempted to close the door, but Rosie gripped the doorknob suddenly. Through the crack in the door, I glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of a man sleeping in her bed. He appeared at least a decade older, with some gray hairs peppered throughout his thick beard. He slept with a muscular, hairy arm flung over the side of Rosie’s mattress.
“Wait,” Rosie whispered, clutching the door. “Let me come with you.”
“You don’t wanna spend an entire weekend with my parents,” I warned her.
“Please, Dani. Take me away. Just for a weekend.” Rosie crept toward me, her sensual lotion radiating off of her bare skin. I inhaled her alluring scent for a moment, realizing that in nature, Rosie smelled like sugar. The sound of her voice was low, smooth, and soft like velvet. Then, realizing I was standing too close, I practically jumped away from her.
“Um.” I cleared my throat, blushing wildly. “Is there a reason you wanted to come with me?”
“I need a reason to make this guy leave,” she murmured. “Last time I invited him over, I kept hinting that I needed him to leave, but he was oblivious. I shouldn’t have slept with him last time. It was a mistake.”
“Then, why did you?” I asked.
“I was lonely,” Rosie said.
I paused and considered the idea briefly. If Rosie tagged along, maybe it would soften the blow and ease some of the tension between my parents and me. If there was one rule that my parents followed religiously, it was to always focus on appearance. When guests were around, the Kent family was fine. We were always fine. Successful, polished, and sophisticated. No one in our family had ever experienced hardship, according to my mother. Behind closed doors, however, that was a different story.
“Can you be ready in ten minutes?” I asked.
Rosie nodded.
“Hurry up,” I whispered before closing her bedroom door and making my way outside, where my mother’s car was parked at the curb. She rolled the window down, and I let her know that Rosie would be coming along. I waited for her reaction, hoping she wouldn’t argue. She nodded after a pause of thoughtful consideration.
“Fine,” she said, glancing up at me through her designer sunglasses. “Your friend can come, but she’ll have to take her own car. I’m not a chauffeur. She’ll need a way to get back home after this weekend.”
Rosie’s voice drifted over from behind me. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kent.” Her smile was bright and charming. “I’ll follow close behind.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. The two-hour drive would be much more tolerable if I didn’t have to sit in the car with my mother the entire time.
My mother nodded approvingly, and once Rosie and I were buckled into her Prius, the three of us took off.
As we cruised along the highway, my mom’s Cadillac remained directly in front of hers. Any time Rosie switched lanes, my mom did the same to ensure that she was always directly in front of us. The white paint of her Cadillac reflected the sun harshly.
“My God,” Rosie muttered as she turned the steering wheel to the left. “It’s like your mom thinks we’re gonna speed off and make a run for it.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst idea,” I said. “I hope you’re not expecting this weekend to be fun. We’re having a family meeting, which is a nice way of saying they’re organizing an intervention.”
“For the drinking?” Rosie asked. She glanced toward my backpack, which was laid on the floor between my feet. The zipper was open at the top, revealing the tightened lid of an unopened Chardonnay bottle. I had packed it in my bag just in case I needed it.
Blushing, I said, “I wasn’t planning on drinking that today.”
“Do you even see yourself, Dani?” Rosie looked away from the road and observed me with concerned eyes. “Your parents have a right to be worried about you. You’ve been sleeping all day, drinking all night…skipping class. I know that you’re grieving over Leah, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to give up on yourself.”
“I don’t know how I can possibly focus on myself right now. Not with everything going on.”
“We can figure it out together,” Rosie said, reaching across the console to hold my hand. “You have my support. Things will get better, alright? You just have to put in the effort.”
I glanced down at Rosie’s fingers laced within my own. Soft skin wrapped warmly around my palm. I closed my eyes.
I hoped that Rosie was right.
Chapter Nineteen
When we pulled up to my parents’ five-bedroom estate, Rosie bore the same expression as anyone else who laid their eyes on the home for the first time. Through the clear windshield, she gazed at the winding cobblestone driveway and the landscape surrounding it, which was rich with flowers, thick shrubs, and myrtle trees. In the afternoon sun, workers were busy trimming the hedges, sweeping the wrap-around porch, and raking the leaves. The mansion stood on a tall hilltop overlooking the city skyline in the distance.
“Well, shit,” Rosie said as she parked her car in front of the driveway. “Where does all the money come from, anyway?”
“My parents used to own an oil refinery,” I replied. “They sold the company five years ago, and since then, all the money has come from stock.”
“Wow.”
Once inside, Rosie gaped at the sparkling chandelier that hung above a spacious foyer and a colossal staircase. My mom’s high heels sent an echo across the hall as she strode toward us.
“It was nice of you to come, Rosie,” she said. “Danielle is lucky to have friends that are willing to support her in difficult times.”
“That’s why she needs me,” Rosie answered politely.
“My husband and I would like a moment alone with her. Would you mind waiting inside while we speak with her on the back porch?”
“Sure thing.”
After placing my bags on the foyer floor, I followed my mom outside. I knew exactly how this conversation would go. All I had to do was nod along and remain compliant, and the confrontation would be over soon enough.
My father was waiting for me on a round wooden table beside the pool, which glimmered in the early afternoon sunlight. The water motor droned and birds chirped in the myrtle trees. Their melodic songs did nothing to soothe the feeling of dread that had come over me. As much as I wanted to downplay the situation, I knew this was bad. Receiving a C on my report card was bad enough when I was a kid. Now that my entire future was on the line, the situation was much more dire. I wished I could run away and hide, or tell my parents that my decisions were none of their business. But as long as my parents were financing my basic needs, they could still assess total control over my life. Despite the fact that I was an adult, I still felt like a child around them.
“I’ll let you and your father talk,” my mother said. “I don’t want you to feel like we’re ganging up on you. Plus, your father is better at this kind of thing.”
Slowly, I took a seat across from him. My mom left us alone and disappeared through the back door of the house, shutting it with a click. The birds sang all around us, and landscapers continued working in the distance. My father and I sat facing each other, neither one of us speaking. I didn’t know why my father preferred being the mediator in situations like this. As the man of the house, he often felt obliged to handle emotional strife, but when the opportunity presented itself, he didn’t know what to say.
He eyed me through his thick glasses. “I hope you don’t think we’re angry with you.”
“Mom seemed pretty angry this morning,” I replied.
“You realize why she’s so concerned, don’t you?”
I squirmed in my chair, sitting with my legs crossed and my head down.
“I know you were too young to reme
mber your older sister very vividly,” my father said. “Your mother and I are protective of you because we’re terrified that you might some day suffer the same fate as Melissa did.”
“I won’t,” I said. “I can handle myself.”
“You’re not fine, Danielle.” He exhaled. “Look, I know that we’re more strict than most parents are. I’m not ashamed to admit that. I understand why you and your mother have argued so much during your teen years. If I were in your shoes, I’d be frustrated too.” My dad sat with his elbows resting on his knees. “You were a little rebellious as a teen, and that’s normal. But what you have to understand is…Danielle, you are very lucky.”
I bit my lip. In regards to my current situation, I wouldn’t describe myself as lucky. I didn’t feel fortunate to be grieving all alone, craving intimacy with someone who was gone forever. I had been attacked and threatened, then been expected to balance normalcy within my constant state of paranoia.
My father stroked his gray mustache, then continued, “Your mother and I have set up the foundations for you to live a fruitful life. We raised you in a safe community, we signed you up for extra curricular activities, and we have offered you a high level of education. You are destined to be successful. Now, all of a sudden, your college GPA has begun to slip.”
“I know I have a lot to be grateful for,” I said. “But—”
“But the traumatic incident that happened a few weeks ago has caused a lot of distress. I know. Leah was a dear friend to you.”
“Girlfriend,” I corrected him.
My father cleared his throat and smoothed the wrinkles of his shirt. “Right. But you realize that we can’t sit back and do nothing while you let your grades decline. We expect nothing less than greatness from you. Losing your…girlfriend doesn’t change that.”
My jaw clenched. “What if I fail my classes?
“You won’t,” he said immediately. “That isn’t an option. It never was and never will be. Not in this family. We’ve cleared out the main office for you. You can work online and spend the day studying. You’ll be staying here over the weekend whether you like it or not. And there won’t be any drinking while you’re here. Understood?”
Shelter in the Dark Page 13
