by Kim Briggs
“It goes against the Bible,” Jude said.
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t state, ‘Thou shall not like the same sex,’” Christian said.
“There were definitely gay dudes then. Ancient Rome and Greece were famous for them,” Frank said. I forgot how much of a history buff he was. He hid it with slang, a guise of disinterest, and an oversexed appetite.
Jude grounded his jaw. “More like notorious. It’s blasphemy to like someone of the same sex.”
I lunged at him, claws out. “Oh my god, you’re such a fucking asshole.” Before I could draw blood, someone grabbed me and held me back. “Why do you care?” I spat at him.
Jude crossed his arms as if I didn’t pose a threat. If he only knew. “It’s not right. It’s not natural.”
“Who says?” Frank said from behind me clamping my hands together.
“God says,” he snapped.
“He doesn’t. He says no such thing. Aside from the fact that the Bible is an interpretation of God’s words. Different people wrote each book. All aspects of it are open to interpretation,” Christian said. This was the debating Christian I knew, not the prick in class who always argued with Starr. And now I know the real reason he was such an asshole to her—misguided love sickness like an immature seven-year-old.
“The Bible should be followed exactly, word for word.”
Starr, who remained surprisingly calm—she was always a better debater than me, damn my emotional outbreaks—raised her eyebrows in surprise. “So you believe the world was created in seven days.”
“Six. The seventh day was for rest.”
“Six days. The entire world was created in six days?” I repeated. I couldn’t wrap his lunacy around my head. With Frank containing me, I calmed down. He smelled like clean man, solid and steadfast.
“Yes.”
“So dinosaurs, wooly mammoths, saber tooth tigers, cave men...,” I said.
“Did not exist,” he replied.
“You don’t believe in scientific evidence, fossils, or carbon dating?”
He crossed his arms. “No.”
“So gay guys are not allowed and there is no such thing as evolution?” Frank asked.
“No, they are not allowed. There is only creationism. Evolution is a lie.”
Her eyes opened wide. She looked at each one of us with that expression that said, “Can you believe this fucking moron?” before she actually said, “Have you always believed this? Have you always believed in the literal interpretation of the Bible?”
“No, I was blind to many truths. I was brainwashed in my high school to believe in evolution. It’s only been recently that I’ve learned the truth about the world.”
“The truth?” I snorted. “Sounds like a load of crap to me.”
“The Bible is crap? You don’t believe in God?” Jude asked incredulously.
“I believe in a creator. A Father and a Mother,” I said. “And as far as your backward thoughts about love, I say anyone who finds love in this fucked up world is a lucky SOB, man and man, woman and woman, man and woman.”
“Me too,” Starr said crossing her arms with “that look”, that look that makes people cow to her. He shifted from foot to foot, but she wasn’t through with him. “Where did you learn your new ‘truths’?”
I wanted to hug her because she even used air quotes.
“Around.”
She got right in his face. Christian stood guard behind her. Unnecessary backup, but backup nonetheless. “During training with the Organization?”
His eyes darted to her, then darted away to the window, the wall, anywhere but her. “Some things, yes. Other things, on my own.”
“Ever hear of, ‘thou shalt not bear false witness’? Cause you just broke that one,” she snapped.
His face paled. She called him out, and he knew it. The chicken shit bent down to tie his sneakers instead of answering her.
To be honest, I had a harder time about the whole evolution vs. creationism thing than I did about his LGBTQ views. Regardless of what I thought, I knew there were people, that there will always be people, who are close-minded and will have a problem with another’s sexual preference. Bunch of assholes if you ask me, but what really bothered me. Bothered the hell out of me was that a person could be so impressionable. To believe in evolution his entire life and then after a few weeks of “training,” to no longer believe in something based on scientific evidence made no sense. Aside from the fact that evolution was not in conflict with the seven-day thing. It was only in conflict if a person actually believed that a day was twenty-four hours long not a metaphor for an unknown span of time.
But before I could impart my wisdom either through debate or ass-kicking, Frank jumped in and revealed that sexy brain of his. He awakened something in me—a passion I didn’t know I possessed, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking of him.
He squeezes my hand. My eyes flash back to his. They’re still shut. Thank god. He can never know about my crush, and yes, that’s all it is. A crush. Nothing more. The granite bitterness that surrounds the vessel pumping blood and oxygen through my body isn’t capable of feeling love. It’s certainly not capable of feeling it for a boy—a man—who professed his love for his best friend.
Chapter Six
Starr
The apartment rumbles as Coda and Ben stampede up the stairs. I rush to the door. “Any word?”
“All quiet on the Frank front,” Ben says.
Coda sets down a few bags. Chips, cookies, and bread spill out. “And all quiet on the shooting front. I’ve been trolling social media and there’s nothing about the shooting. Not a name, not a place, it’s like the shooting didn’t happen.”
Christian starts unloading the bags. More chips, more salsa, more cheese. “Is that possible?”
Jude pops open a bag of kettle corn. “With the Organization, anything is possible.”
I stare at him, and not for the first time this past day and a half. The things he said to Sami and Jody about the Organization and Treadwell always knowing what’s going on—I can’t forget it. I’ve barely left him alone. I’m only lucky that Christian wasn’t around to hear Jude’s details about the Organization. If he had, Jude wouldn’t be here now, and I need him. He’s hiding something, and I intend to find out what. I just need to figure out how to talk with him without Christian hovering in the background.
Treadwell selected me as a leader. He selected Jude and the other recruits as followers. If Treadwell can mold Jude into a card-carrying Jesus Fish assassin, I can reshape him into a deliverer of our brand of justice. My own personal revenge tool.
“You look like you’re planning something,” Coda says.
“Huh?” I reply, shaking my head.
“You look like you’re plotting, and I’ve learned that when you look like you’re plotting, something’s going to happen. Dangerous things that potentially compromise my dating prospects.”
Christian and Jude narrow their eyes. It won’t do them any good. They won’t figure out what I’m thinking about. I might have easy tells, but what circles around in my brain is locked in a vault. “I’m just worried about Frank.”
Christian slips his arm around my waist. I lean into his chest. “If I know Frank at all, he’s back to flirting with the nurses.”
“From what I can gather,” Ben says, “he’ll probably come home tomorrow or the next. Hospitals don’t keep patients more than they have too, especially with minor injuries.”
“I wouldn’t call a gunshot wound a minor injury.” I sniff. “Do you really think he’ll be home that soon?”
Christian sweeps my hair off my shoulders. “You saw the condition I was in. I wasn’t hit with a bullet, but I....” I glance over at him. If he’s comparing his injuries to a bullet, his torture had to be more horrific than I thought. His jaw tightens. “I was beat up pretty bad.”
He keeps hiding the truth. He keeps protecting me, and I don’t want to be protected. Stupid tears roll down my chee
ks. Stupid tears that make me look weak. He squeezes me into his chest. “What’s wrong?”
“I... I feel like my world is crashing down around me, and I didn’t think there was anything left to crumble. I feel like my whole life is a lie. My entire friendship with Sami and Jody was based on lies. I didn’t know that they hated me. I thought we were friends.”
Christian rubs my back. “Is that what they told you?”
“Sami said that she hated me every day of our friendship and that now she despises me.”
“Did she say why?”
“Because I’m me, and now I’m the heiress to a chocolate company.”
“How does she know about that?”
“I am officially the Organization’s Most Wanted.” Coda hands me a new box of tissues. I blink at him gratefully. “But I haven’t told you the worst part.” Everyone leans in. I haven’t spoken about what went on in that room with Sami and Jody before Frank was shot. They only know the end result. “General Treadwell.” I take a deep breath. “He’s planning to use you to get to me.”
He pulls away, thinks better of it, and draws me closer instead. “How?”
“Sami said that you’re somehow going to be blamed for all of our disappearances. Christian, you’re the only person I have left.... If something happens to you.... I don’t know if I could keep going. I’ll have nothing left.” There’s no controlling my sobs now.
“Gives us a minute,” he says to everyone. He leads me back to the bedroom, guides me to the bed, and sets me down. “Starr,” he says tenderly. I love how he says my name—that little R roll. “Starr, I love you. I’m not going anywhere. Nothing is going to happen to me. We just need to figure some things out. Nothing’s really changed except that life will get more challenging. Let’s see... hmmm, you dyed your hair black to go underground. Should I dye mine blond?”
Try as I might to fight it, a giggle escapes. That’s what Christian does to me. The Organization might want me as an assassin, my grandparents might want me as their doll, Sami and Jody might hate me, but he makes me forget all that.
“Now Starr, what’s so funny? You’re still gorgeous with jet-black hair. How do you know I wouldn’t look good as a blond?”
“Black hair with blond roots. That’s really attractive.”
He brushes my hair off my shoulders. Shivers run through me. “I disagree. Besides, what I love most about you has nothing to do with hair color.” I become mesmerized with his words and his smile. “Maybe I’ll cut my hair—a crew cut like the guys from the Organization. Treadwell might approve of me if I have a military-sanctioned haircut.”
The shock of his teasing makes me gasp. “Don’t you dare cut your hair. I love it too much.”
“I don’t know. It might be the best way to go underground. Is there a razor around here somewhere?” He stands up. His dimple pushing into his lopsided grin.
I grab his hands and pull him back onto the bed. “You’re not cutting your hair. Not yet anyway.” I run my fingers through it, as I stare into his eyes, the color of calm water. No storms brewing in the distance. Nothing but tranquility.
He lifts his hands to my face. My breathing grows ragged, but this time it’s a good thing. His touch sends surges through my body. I try waiting for him to kiss me, but longing consumes me. I push into him. The corners of his lips lift up. My reaction has the desired effect.
Our lips meet and my world no longer feels like it’s collapsing. In fact, everything is right with it, so unbelievably right. With Christian by my side, I can get through anything. The Organization. My grandparents. My psychotic friends. Anything.
Chapter Seven
Starr
I slip out of bed, careful not to wake Christian. I need to talk to Jude without an audience. On my way through the kitchen, I glance at the clock—5:30 a.m. Ben and Coda probably aren’t back yet. With any luck, Christian will sleep for several more hours, and Jude and I can have a serious discussion as to where his loyalties lie.
Just as I reach Jude’s sofa, the floor creaks. His eyes flash open. “Starr?” he says. His voice carries through the sleepy apartment. He drops his voice. “Is everything alright?”
My fingers dance in and out of themselves. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, sit,” he says, patting the sofa next to him. I consider the spot he’s so enthusiastically patting. I glance over at the other sofa. It’s really too far away for a private conversation. I shift from foot to foot. I hadn’t considered the logistics of our conversation. The intimacy of me sitting on the same sofa as Jude in a dark apartment. “Come on, sit down.”
I crouch into the farthest corner of it. It’s still warm from him. I try not to think of Jude and his boyness and the lack of other people around.
“Any word on Frank?” he asks, careful to keep his voice low as if he knows that I don’t want us to be disturbed. I shake my head. I wish there was. I haven’t heard from Di since yesterday morning.
I pick at the base of his blanket. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Sami and Jody.”
“You said they were dead.” His statement an accusation.
“I thought they were dead. Treadwell told me as much.”
“So you had no proof?” Again with the accusation.
My back stiffens. “No,” I say, shaking my head, “I had no proof. I took Treadwell at his word. I didn’t have time for investigations. I was too busy trying to escape.”
The direction of conversation is not what I intended.
I didn’t come here to answer questions.
I came here for answers.
I am in control.
“When you were talking to Sami, you sounded like you were still working for the Organization.”
Without missing a beat, without a pause, without even a second to gather his thoughts, he says, “I’m sure it did. That was intentional.” An answer so perfectly timed, so perfectly executed that I don’t believe him. I let go of the blanket. My eyes now adjusted to the dark, zoom in on his spoken and unspoken answers.
“Starr, I know that look. We were taught to study our witnesses. Look for the sheen of sweat. Search the eyes for dilation. Watch body repositioning, but what I’m telling you is accurate. From the moment, we stepped into the room, I knew what Sami intended to do.”
“You knew she was going to shoot me?”
“For two years, I studied criminology. I knew she planned to harm you in some way. She was calculating. Her animosity consumed her. She refused to be derailed, but she was proud of the ‘Program,’” he says with air quotes. “I worked the General Treadwell angle. It was a diversion tactic. Nothing more.”
His green eyes flicker in the gray light. I pull my lips in. I want to believe him. I really do, but I don’t. I can’t. There’s not enough history between us. My gut tells me something is off. I need to start paying more attention to what my instincts tell me. If I learned anything from the incident with Sami and Jody, shared history disguises barely veiled truth.
He swallows. His shoulders relax as he tilts his head. He’s trying to engage me. Soften my reaction. “I never met anyone like Sami. Her passion for killing you never truly subsided. In fact, she became more driven to accomplish her goal.” He shakes his head. “And at her age? She’s downright scary.”
Sami has always been a force of nature. Her own Class Five Sami-cane. I never thought her capable of murder, but I’ve always known that when she sets her mind to something, she does it. “You have no idea.”
“I’m thankful Frank pushed you out of the way.”
I pull away from him. “Thankful? Frank’s in the hospital with a gunshot wound.”
“I am thankful,” he says adamantly. “Frank took a bullet to his lower abdomen. Sami was aiming for your heart. If she shot you, you would be dead.”
The three feet of sofa space feels much too close for the turn of our conversation. I want to stay as far from intimate as possible. “Are you working for th
e Organization?”
“Starr, I’m dedicated to your protection. You have to believe me.”
“You need to be honest with me. There’s too much at stake. It’s not too late for any of us to walk away right now if we need to.”
He reaches for my hand that’s found its way back to the edge of the blanket. I pull it away from him. He sighs. “Starr, I am working for you. I am dedicated to you. I would never put you in harm’s way. I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner. Once I saw the gun, I knew exactly what she wanted to do, but I was afraid to come to you. I didn’t want to enrage Sami any more than what she was. To think I could have lost you...,” he trails off. He reaches for my knee. “Starr, you mean so much to me. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
I lean away from him. I don’t want to have this conversation while sharing the same sofa. I don’t want to have this conversation with him period. I scoot over the sofa arm. “Jude, you don’t even know me.”
“I...,” he says.
“What’s going on out here?” Christian says, appearing out of nowhere.
I jump back in surprise. “Nothing,” I say. “Nothing is going on out here. Absolutely nothing.”
“Christian, there’s something you need to—,” Jude says.
My pocket rings. Well more accurately, my phone in my pocket. I glance at the number. “Starts with an 828, that’s gotta be Di. Hello?”
Chapter Eight
Di
I slip my pack on and cinch the straps snug. “You going to manage without me until tomorrow?”
He sighs. “I guess, but you have a lot of nerve leaving me. How will I survive without my Florence Nightingale?”
“You got a nurses’ station full of Florence Nightingales to hit on when I’m not here.”
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “True, but none of them are you. I only have eyes for you now, Beautiful.”
“Does any girl actually buy your bullshit?”
He grins at me. Fireworks explode in my stomach—that’s what I get for not eating.
