I find Holden in the office hunched over like a rock, pilfering the floor safe.
“What the hell are you doing?” Honest to God, everything Holden touches turns to shit. He’s helping himself to Logan’s stash like he’s a bona fide premium access user.
He hops up without securing the lid and stuffs a wad of bills in the pouch of his sweatshirt, bypasses me without so much as a hello.
I chase him out to the dining area and pull him back by the sleeve.
“I’m talking to you,” I say, spinning him on his heels.
“Don’t feel bad.” Chloe strides over—her face alive with the thrill of watching my life spiral out of control. “She accosted me during 6th.”
“What’s your problem?” He shakes himself loose.
I can tell Holden is trying his best not to act like a dick since the question itself came out laced with a false sense of delicacy.
“You,” I say, digging into his pocket and waving the cash in front of his face. “I’m taking over.”
“OK.” He shrugs, taking half the bills away from me and shoving them deep inside his jeans. “Have at it. See if I care.”
Brielle walks over wide-eyed with her mouth agape.
“I heard the checks aren’t clearing. How much are you overdrawn?” I ask.
“He’s negative eighteen thousand,” Brielle pipes up. “Accounting’s sort of my thing. Plus, I don’t mind snooping into people’s finances when the opportunity arises.” She shrugs into her admission. “And what the hell is wrong with you?” She barks into Logan. “It’s like you’re a totally different person.” There’s the distinct look of grief on her face.
“People change.” Holden blinks a smile. Creepy the way he genuinely makes Logan, who has the face of a god, look like a total ass. Maybe this was what I was anticipating, predicting in that hallucinatory vision a few months back after gobbling down Michelle’s demonic rose? “So,” Holden writhes into me, “You and Gage are really over, huh?”
I don’t reward his jackass behavior with an answer. Besides there’s no way I’m going to admit to the fact Gage and I aren’t together. I’d sooner lick Chloe’s bare feet after she ran ten laps in the men’s restroom than entertain that theory out loud.
“I was thinking you and me should give things another shot.” He pinches my left boob.
Reflexively, I smack him in the nose with my purse. I’d consider doing some serious reproductive harm, but since he’s not technically ever going to reproduce with that body, I find it a pointless endeavor.
“Touch me again and I’ll lop off your balls,” my chest heaves into the words.
“She will,” Chloe confirms. “She’s no stranger to detaching body parts.”
“I am feeling stabby,” I poke him in the chest, “and bitchy, and all around pissed off, so stay the hell away from that floor safe, and keep your lobster claws to yourself.” Holden is proof positive that true beauty comes from within.
“That’s my safe.” His amber eyes glint with something familiar from a faraway dream.
“Not anymore. You’re fired.” I turn on my heels to face Chloe. “You, too!”
“Me?” She crooks a hand into her chest.
“Don’t even ask what you did.” I shake my head. “You are a liar, everything about you is a lie. It drives you insane that you can’t have the only thing in this world you want. Where’s Gage, Chloe? Is he by your side?”
“As long as he’s not by yours, it’s just as good.” Her dark eyes linger over me like gunpowder.
Chloe revels in my misery, gains strength from my pain. She watched me go under like a ship taking in water. She was the storm pushing me down. She wanted to hold Gage afterwards, tell him it would all be OK as she cradled him in her poisonous embrace. Little did she know she took him down too—drowned him first.
“I don’t need this job.” Her lids lower as if she were trying to seduce me. “I’ve already got another one lined up.”
“I hope you’re scraping gum off the street with your teeth.” Of course later I’ll think of something far more offensive and to the point.
“I’m in charge of cataloging crap from detective Edinger’s estate. Isn’t that where you’ll be doing your community service?” Chloe twitches a smile. “Say hello to your new boss, Skyla.” She bites the air before heading out the door.
Crap.
Just, crap.
***
It’s a living miracle I arrive alive at Landon manor. The storm rages overhead, shags its heavy precipitation out with aggressive uneven bursts.
“Dinner is in the microwave,” Mom says from the couch.
Really I just want some OJ and a nice hot shower, a chat with Logan in the butterfly room regarding bank passwords and the possibility of changing the combination to his floor safe. I plan on shutting Holden out financially, but I have no clue how I’m going to rectify his eighteen thousand dollar debt by week’s end. And Gage? How long do I let him simmer down before I go bounty hunter and kidnap him for the sake of our relationship?
I’ll cyber stalk him tonight—text him nonstop until six in the morning so he can see how freaking insane I am without him. He’ll need a restraining order to keep me away and even then I won’t listen.
I pause a moment in the cool of the refrigerator. I can’t go on like this without Gage. I don’t even care to appropriately devise my revenge against Chloe. I just want him back so I can breathe again. For a moment I consider dropping to my knees in prayer, doing a faceplant in the not so appetizing strange yellow pie staring back at me. And, oddly, it was baked in the tin we sometimes use as a dog dish.
“Stop fanning yourself with the fridge,” Tad snarls.
I head over to the microwave and pull out the plate Mom set aside for me.
“What is this?” I don’t mean to sound offensive, but really I have no clue how to categorize the mountainous glob set before me.
Drake walks by and retches for effect.
“It’s an asparagus and broccoli quiche with whole wheat crust—no salt. Made it myself,” Mom beams. She gives a satisfied smile into her knitting, assuring me she’s content serving up the questionable nutritional offering. For Mom, cooking is more of a flaw than an attribute.
“It’s pretty cold up in my room. Was my window opened today?” I ask, totally indifferent to the fact I haven’t been upstairs yet.
“Oh,” her eyes widen as if she were about to get caught with her hand in Demetri’s cookie jar. Just the idea of her touching his anything sets me on fire. “I had to go in and, um, grab some laundry. I might have fiddled with it. Sorry about that.”
Knew it!
What if she did the deed with him right there on my bed? I’m going to have to burn everything. Although I seriously doubt Lizbeth Landon did the nasty in her daughter’s bedroom while her husband was floating around on the premises.
“Were you home all day?” I ask Tad for no good reason. He’s already convinced I’ve fried my brain, so a whole slew of random questions shouldn’t surprise him one bit.
“Nope.” He twists his lips while glossing over the paperwork fanned out before him. “Had a meeting in town.” He looks towards my mother. “Guess what, Lizbeth? We no longer need to call a cab whenever that faulty minivan acts up,” he shouts. “Tomorrow afternoon a brand new company car is rolling off the ferry for yours truly.”
“You’re kidding!” She stops spiking the air with her needles and jumps to her feet.
“I wanted to surprise you, but Skyla, here, dragged it out of me.”
I abstain from correcting him.
“Best part?” He gives a greasy smile, “It’s F-R-E-E.”
“That’s my favorite word!” Mom rushes to his side.
“Mine, too,” he says, as they engage in an awkward open-mouth kiss.
Seriously? Eww.
“Guess what else?” He continues. “Althorpe is hosting its annual company dinner right here on the island. All the big wigs and their families will be
joining us in a couple weeks.”
“That’s great!” Mom shrieks as if we had just won the lottery. “And family is invited? Even better!”
“I’m bringing Brielle,” Drake pipes up.
“I’m bringing Chloe,” Ethan says, stumbling over to the fridge.
“Of course, you can bring Gage, Skyla,” Mom nods as though it were a given.
I give a weak smile and turn around.
I’m not bringing Gage because he hates me, and I’m pretty sure Ethan’s not bringing Chloe because I would have killed her by then.
Chapter 38
Dance of the Butterfly
I shove Ethan around in the hall before trapping him in his bedroom, knocking him back on the bed like a bowling pin.
“What the hell was that video expose` on my love life about the other night?”
“I had no clue she was going to do that. She’s a freaking nutcase.” He leans over and combs his hair back in the mirror. “Besides, it pissed me off. Makes me want to go after her even more.”
“It does?” I pause, stunned. “Like, as in go after and mate with her, or go after and get rid of her?” I’m betting it’s the former. Placing my hope in a Landon family male would be both foolish and dangerous.
“Getting rid of her.”
“Well, good.” I’m pretty sure that the big dismissal will take place after he’s physically through with her. He seems intent on rocking her world—his bed—same difference.
“You should trust me,” he deadpans, because he knows I can’t. Honestly, it’s all starting to sound a little canned, like he’s telling me whatever it is he thinks I want to hear. I don’t like where this is going.
“I do,” I say without conviction. Why do I feel like I’m about to get sucked into a wood chipper? “How are you going to get rid of her?”
“I’m going to exterminate.” His expression darkens.
I don’t know that I want Chloe dead. After experiencing the non-finality of it all with Holden, Logan, and Chloe herself, I’m not sure another celestial piranha is what I’m after. Not that Logan is a piranha. He’s a lion—a hot lion, albeit without any fur, or skin or bones at the moment.
“So what’s the plan of action?” I’m tired of Ethan skirting the issue. If he’s mapped out his strategy, I want in on the details. Second thought, if the end result is manslaughter, I’d hate to go away for guilt by association. People go away all the time for stupid stuff like that. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just make sure death is not involved.” That’s too easy for Chloe. She needs a good life sentence of misery—one without Gage preferably. That alone is a cruel and horrific punishment much harsher than a quick trip to the transport. That alone might kill her. Come to think of it, a life without Gage would kill me, too.
***
I head upstairs and find Mia snooping around my drawers.
“Get out!” I shout. I don’t care if she is trying to piece together the perfect ensemble to steal Melissa’s boyfriend, I’m cranky and tired, and I just want Gage to crawl in through the butterfly room and make everything all right. He used to protect me from the Counts in my life, and now he’s probably hoping they’ll turn me into a salt-free quiche and eat me for dinner. “How did it all go so wrong?” I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
I crash on the bed and bury my head in the pillow.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Mia comes over and gives one long scratch down the center of my back. Her fingernails sizzle across my flesh, and it actually feels nice.
“Gage hates me,” I muffle into the foamy expanse.
“Gage?” She balks as though it were impossible.
I twist around and pull my pillow into my chest, hug it as though it were a body.
“Did you guys breakup?” Mia’s face lights up at the prospect of fresh gossip.
“I guess we did, unofficially. I wouldn’t know, he won’t speak to me.” I don’t know why I’m sharing this with Mia of all people.
“What happened?”
“He caught me kissing Logan. It was an accident. I never meant to do it.” My heart sags because outside of those kisses I still have very real feelings for Logan. “Do yourself a favor and fall in love with just one boy.”
“I know, right?” She looks up at me with childlike innocence, reminds me a lot of the Skyla I used to be—the one Logan made fall in love with him by simply showing up in her dreams. “Plus, it means you’re a total slut if you run around kissing other boys, just saying.”
“Logan, kissed me. I am not a slut.” What my heart feels and what my body does are two different things. I tried giving everything to Gage, wanted to, but in the end I just wasn’t ready. But now I’d run to him naked in the middle of this viral downpour if he wanted me to, if he let me.
“And that teacher?” She narrows in on me suspiciously.
“He means nothing.” That’s not entirely true. I do feel some sort of connection to Marshall, but it’s spiritual in nature—at least I’m pretty sure. Nevertheless, no more vision hunting through his upper orifice. I’m done with that game.
“If I could only have Gage back,” I whisper, lost in a fog of despair.
“That’s how I feel, Skyla. Gabriel was mine, and Melissa stole him.”
“Are they a couple?” I’m horrified by this. They’re sisters. Talk about a relationship killer. Then again Logan and Gage still sort of have one, or at least they did until Holden showed up.
“He says he’s still into me, but Melissa keeps inviting him to the movies, the library, and he keeps going.”
“Sounds like an ass. You can do better.”
“I don’t want to do better. I want him back.”
I relax against the wall and consider this. Why shouldn’t Mia fight for her man? Why should us Messenger girls sit back and let the boys we love drift into the arms of other girls?
“Then you need to fight for him,” I start. “Be the first one to talk to him at school, when you see Melissa cornering him, break up the party. All’s fair in love and war, right? Ask him to the mall, the beach, the falls.” An image of me swimming in my bra and panties with Logan last summer zips through my mind. “Well, maybe not the falls. Oh, I know! Ask him to the Althorpe dinner. Mom says we can bring dates, and he could be yours.” I shrug into my genius.
“Thank you!” She leans in and hugs me before running into my closet.
“Get out,” I say.
“Oh, I am. I’m leaving through the butterfly room.”
“What?”
“Gabriel’s picking me up. We’re going for ice cream. And, before you freak out—his sister is driving.” She climbs into the secret compartment, and I follow her up.
“Mia!” I scold as she crawls into the attic and disappears. She doesn’t answer. She’s already halfway to stealing her boyfriend back just like I suggested.
It seems I’m only capable of somewhat competent ideas.
***
I curl up on the black sparkling floor of the butterfly room and wait for Logan to come.
An easy slumber wraps its arms around me and ushers me into a restful languor. Dreams of Gage and Chloe walking along the beach hand in hand devour me. They cut through me with anguish. I call out his name, but he doesn’t answer. He whispers to Chloe instead, and they share a secret smile.
I startle awake as a pair of warm arms wrap themselves around me, and I take in a sharp breath.
“It’s just me.” Logan helps me sit up. I’m still reeling from the spectacle of imagining Gage and Chloe together as a couple. “How was your day?” He gives a tired smile.
“I fired you,” I scratch at his stomach. “Chloe, too.” I raise my brows rather proud of that one. “You wouldn’t happen to have eighteen thousand dollars lying around would you?”
“Is that what he took?” Logan’s jaw redefines pissed.
“That I know of,” I add. “Will your uncle front the money?”
Logan shakes his head. “Don’t ask Barron. The mortuary
is hurting right now. I know for a fact he just pulled money out of the house to cover expenses. The last thing I want is for anyone to go bankrupt trying to satiate Holden’s appetite for financial destruction.” He exhales a lungful of air. “I guess I’ll lose the bowling alley.” He says it despondent as if there were no other way.
“I’ll try to help.” I squeeze his hand. “Don’t give up hope, promise?”
“I promise.” He leans in, touches his forehead to mine. “What’s going on with Gage?”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m dead to him, too.”
“It doesn’t make me feel better.” Logan’s spirit is feather soft, rich with an otherworldly understanding. As if in crossing over to death, he gained a plethora of knowledge and wisdom. Logan always knew too much to begin with and now he was in an intellectual realm all his own. “I want you and Gage to be happy. I know it sounds strange,” he struggles to get the words out, “but I hope there’s a time for us. I think there will be.”
“Does it go along with what you know?” I don’t mean for it to come out as sharp as it does. Sometimes, I just wish I could wring Logan’s mind out like a dishrag over my mouth—absorb all of his insights into our future, to the future that I share with Gage, and see it from his bird’s eye perspective.
“It does,” dejection flexes through him. “But I care about Gage, too. I don’t want him upset, or heartbroken.”
My insides twist at the confirmation that I broke Gage’s heart.
“Yes, he’s hurting, Skyla, but he’s healing, too. Just give him the time he needs.”
“What if he needs forever?” How’s that for irony?
“He won’t,” Logan looks down upon his admission. “I’m sorry for the pain you’re both going through, but, in truth, I can’t get past the idea that you belong with anyone else.” His eyes graze over me with open heartbreak. “With everything in me, Skyla, I swear it was you and me who were meant to be together. I think of Gage, and I want to tear the planet to pieces because I pushed you into him.” He drops his head back, despondent. “I swear on everything that is holy, it was supposed to be you and me.” His voice ends on a threadbare whisper. Death has reduced him to less than human, and I’ve reduced Logan to ashes, slashed him to pieces with my incessant pining for Gage.
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