Authors: Xavier Neal
“This should be interesting,” Dubs grunts. “Justin will lose. Nick’s been trained by the best. Right, Arnett?”
Arnett taps his thumbs on his chest while grinning to himself, “I like to believe so, but let’s not count those chickens quite yet.”
Justin takes a squirt from his water bottle and places his mask on. He grabs another weapon, which doesn’t look like the ones they’ve been using, prompting me to ask, “What’s that?”
“An Epee, a different sort of weapon used to target the whole body.”
His description makes me uncomfortable immediately. I cross my legs and nervously chew on my bottom lip as Nick switches weapons as well. The two of them take their positions, my heart racing, wondering if Justin will take the victory or leave it to Nick. Ball’s always in Justin’s court. How does he do that? He controls the situations he puts himself in, never really leaving himself vulnerable, a lesson I need to learn.
They begin in a round that has everyone in the arena on edge, but I’m preoccupied with the timing of the con, the thought of Arnett knowing my actual father is coming into town, him trying to trap me into seeing him, Eiden working to get our boat here on time, and Peter in charge of our luggage. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Peter lift anything.
At that moment, the first point is scored by Justin right in Nick’s torso. Some of the crowd cheers, some of it boos, but I remain silent under the glances being tossed at me by Nick’s support squad. My attention focuses back on the match. The two of them go round and round, Justin blocking and dodging, his fancy footwork mesmerizing. When did he get this good? I’ve never seen him practice. He scores another time. Antsy Arnett wiggles in his seat, while Dubs taps his phone impatiently. The buzzer sounds again, and Nick wastes no time, I assume, figuring the only way he can score is by making the first move. But this works to his disadvantage, allowing Justin an immediate score. The victory buzzer goes off, and Justin raises his mask, a smirk across his face, while Nick raises his, a defeated look printed on his.
The two of them shake hands before Nick leaves the space, allowing Justin to receive the trophy and the ribbon. Nick sits on the bench closest to his coach then glances over his shoulder up at me to see me give him a wave of support. I blow him a kiss, and he smiles as the girl drapes the first-place ribbon around Justin’s neck.
Afterward, the players disperse to find their families. Nick races up the stairs to us, where Arnett shakes his hand, Dubs greets him with a high five, and I provide a warm hug. Once our hug is over, he places a kiss on the back of my hand.
“You did well,” Arnett compliments him.
“Not well enough,” his eyes meet mine.
“You did awesome,” Dubs reassures him. “I couldn’t believe you lost.”
At that moment, I see Justin walking down toward us, random females waiting for him at the top of the stairs. He knows I hate when he surrounds himself with random women. I wish he wouldn’t do that.
“Hey, Nick,” Justin says, a twinkle in his eyes I don’t recognize. “Just wanted to say you did a fantastic job.”
“Yet you won,” Nick’s hurt is emphasized by a scowl.
“There are more important things I’ve lost,” Justin’s eyes shift to me.
Nick senses what he means, smirks proudly, and extends his hand, “Good game, in both ways.”
“Good indeed,” they shake. Not saying a word to me, Justin nods his head before turning his attention to the girls calling out his name like desperate fans, a sound I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to.
He walks away, and I look back to Nick, who is beaming brightly, “Congrats on good rounds, Nick.”
“Thanks. Dinner?”
“I can’t,” Dubs sighs. “I, um, have plans. Good match, though.”
Nick nods and lets him leave. “Arnett?”
“Of course,” Arnett smiles proudly, patting him on the back. He pulls out his keys and phone.
The three of us head back to Nick’s apartment, where he showers and changes. Arnett does the same, leaving the perfect chance to spray the map and get out early. Is this a trap? Arnett’s suspicion is already too high for my liking, so I choose not aggravate it. While I wait, I sit on the couch and scroll through photo albums. Even here, Nick’s parents seem scarce.
Once they are clean and dressed, we head down to the restaurant where Nick and I had our first date, except this time, there’s no singer. We enjoy laughs over appetizers, burgers, and shakes. I do everything I can think of to stall as much as I can. Thankfully, the waitress comes back to take Arnett’s card right on time, a little after 10 p.m.
“I’m glad you met Nick,” Arnett smiles and has another sip of water. “He’s a happier guy since you’ve been in his life.”
“I can agree with that.” Nick wraps an arm around the back of my chair.
“Sir,” the waitress interrupts.
“Yes?” Arnett raises his eyebrows, concerned.
“Your card was rejected.” she says quietly.
Startled, Arnett clears his throat and pulls out his wallet, “Odd. Try this one.”
“Sure,” she nods, and I fight the urge to smile, thankful the plan in is motion.
“When are you expecting to move here?” Arnett taps the side of his glass.
Rubbing my hands down my thighs, I bob my head, “I’m thinking right before Thanksgiving, making it easier to transfer schools.”
“I have to wait to spend every day with you until Thanksgiving?” Nick says in a playful whine. “I mean, that would give me something to be thankful for.”
After a chuckle, I attempt to respond, but the waitress returns, an unhappy look on her face still, “Um, sir, this one was declined too.”
“What?!” Arnett raises his voice, and Nick’s arm lowers from around me. “How could it be? Are you sure your system is working? I know that card is good! I’ve barely used it! In fact, I…”
“Hey,” Nick puts a hand on the table. “Let me get it, Arnett, and you can straighten all this out in the morning.”
While Nick’s reaching for his wallet, Arnett’s phone goes off, Aiden working on his part. Arnett notices the strange number and answers it quickly, leaning his body away from us.
Nick hands the waitress the card, and she scampers off. While Arnett is distracted, he leans over, his face directly next to my ear, and whispers, “Are you coming back to my place tonight?”
I raise my eyebrows innocently, “For ...”
“Another beautiful night’s sleep,” the answer fills my stomach with butterflies because it was indeed a great night’s sleep.
Biting my bottom lip, I fall into his eyes, “I love that idea.”
The waitress returns with Nick’s card as Arnett hangs up the phone, panic written across his features. “Thank you! Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you,” Nick nods and slides the card to sign the receipt. His voice shifts to Arnett, “Everything get settled?”
“I need to call the bank. They’re afraid it’s identity theft.”
In unison, we croak out, “Identity theft?”
“Large, extravagant purchases,” he rolls his eyes. “A boat, jet skis, a diamond tennis bracelet, a diamond-encrusted fish…”
“Sounds like a mermaid on a shopping spree.” Nick laughs, but Arnett isn’t amused.
“Why don’t you go ahead and just get that taken care of? Peyton and I can walk back to the penthouse. We’ll be fine,” he insures, sliding the card in his wallet.
“You sure?” Arnett raises his eyebrows. Nick nods, and Arnett sighs, “Je veux juste que tu sois en sécurité. J’ai l’impression qu’elle se cache quelque chose d’important de vous.”
“Tu es trop protecteur.”
“Je ne suis pas. Promettez-moi que vous prendrez soin de vous-même. Et que vous m’appelez première chose le matin pour le petit déjeuner.”
“Oui.”
Arnett pats Nick’s hand and puts a fake smile on his face for me, “Have a good night.”
“Oui,” I giggle with a horrible French accent, which makes Nick shake his head and kiss me on the cheek. Once Arnett’s out of sight, I turn to Nick, getting the idea of what Arnett said but desperate to know if Nick will be honest with me, “What’d he say in French?”
“Just wants us to be safe if we ... explore other avenues in our relationship tonight.” The lie stings but it’s somewhat of a relief. Here I thought I was getting total honesty, making it difficult to lie to him, but now I know he’s no better than me. “Which we don’t have to ... anytime soon.”
I put on a phony smile, “Let’s head back to your place.”
The two of us start walking to his penthouse reminiscing on his incredible match until a phone call breaks up our conversation. Continuing to walk arm and arm, I allow Nick to answer his phone and don’t think much until he sighs heavily.
“Now Dubs?” He stops inches from walking inside the building. “Right now?” There’s a pause, and Nick looks at me, nonplussed. At that moment, Nick nods and a smile appears, “You know, Dubs, normally I would, but I have plans tonight. So just call the tow company, and I’ll pay for the charges. I gotta go.”
Nick hangs up and slides the phone back in his pocket, so I ask, “Everything all right?”
“Belle stood him up,” he shrugs, “and his car managed to run out of gas. Normally, I would drop everything for him, but you know, lately, I haven’t been important to him. Why should he be to me?”
“I understand,” I touch the side of his face, lift up onto my toes, and plant a soft kiss on his lips to seal the deal.
Chapter 10
Nick grabs us two glasses of water, a couple blankets, and a few pillows to set up shop in the living room. He spreads the blanket out across the floor, lights a few candles around the room, and turns on the TV for a movie. As soon as he’s decided on one, a romantic French film, he places an arm around me, allowing me to snuggle up next to him, my head on his shoulder, the pill on the other side of me, desperate to get in his glass. Needing a diversion, I begin racking my brain. I check the clock, behind schedule.
Nick catches me looking at him and takes that as a signal to make a move. He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, meets my eyes, and whispers out, “Tu es magnifique.”
“And what does that mean?”
“You’re beautiful,” he strokes my cheek again. “Chaque fois que je regarde dans tes yeux je tombe profondément amoureux.”
Giggling, I sigh, “And that?”
“Every time I stare into your eyes, I fall deeper in love.” The words take me off guard, and I accidentally knock over my glass with my foot, spilling water everywhere.
“Sorry,” I apologize.
“It’s OK,” Nick hops up, picking up his own glass to take a drink from. “I’ll grab a towel. You can just refill your glass if you want.”
“Sure,” I slip my phone into my pocket and stand up. Strolling out of the living room and to the kitchen, I immediately send a 911 message to Aiden that I need an emergency phone call to get Nick out of the room.
As I grab the water pitcher, I receive a text back.
Aiden: No can do. Keeping Arnett busy.
Me: Can Justin or Eiden or Peter?
Aiden: Busy. Find a way.
Uncomfortable, I head back to the living room, where Nick is waiting for me, his glass close to his body, meaning there’s only one way I’m going to be able to slip the pill in his drink. Sliding my phone into my purse, in exchange for the pill, I hide it between my two fingers and wrap my arms around Nick’s neck, going in for a very aggressive kiss.
Surprised, but excited, he wraps his arms around my waist. I fight the urge to get swept up in the kiss, open one eye, and try to pinpoint the water glass. Noticing its location, I lean back casually, drop the pill, and watch it fizzle away. The drawback of this strategy is that Nick’s body is falling on top of me, putting me in a compromising position. Slightly panicked, I pull away and stare into his eyes for a moment.
With a soft giggle, I innocently say, “I need a drink.”
Nick chuckles and nods, “Me too. That was ... intense.”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod to agree as I grab my glass of water and watch him mimic my motion. I appear to take a long drink, while he actually sucks down the entire glass, the way the pill forces you to. My eyes glance at the clock again, the time crunching in around me. Once he’s satisfied, he leans back to me, pressing his lips firmly against mine. While his kiss is passionate and entertaining, it’s not my taste. It’s sloppier than the last time, due possibly to the fact that the pill has similar effects to alcohol. After another press or two, Nick’s motions lose momentum, which is when I push him over and let him be dead weight on the floor.
Relieved it’s finally over, I hop up, grab my purse, and rush to his bedroom to see a surprise that I’m not excited about. Nick’s room is completely cleaned and reorganized, as if the cleaning lady came through. With a groan, I drop my purse as panic grabs my chest. His desk where the bottle was being kept has been rearranged, and now the perfume’s nowhere to be found.
“Damn it!” I squeak.
Before I have the chance to make another move, my cell phone goes off. Quickly, I answer, “What?”
“That’s not a pleasant greeting,” Justin’s voice quips on the other end.
“I’m not in a pleasant situation,” I enlighten him. “I have a problem.”
“Nick’s kisses are getting worse?”
“I am not in the mood!”
“Wow. What’s the problem, solider?”
“The bottle has been moved.” Silence nestles between us for longer than I can bare, which is when I snap, “See the problem?”
“You’ve got another headed your way,” his voice softens.
“What’s that?”
“Plane landed a few minutes early. They’re headed straight for you.”
The color drains from my face. My voice croaks as I try to muster up a response, “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“No,” Justin smoothly answers. It would make me feel better to actually hear him panic than endure this calm, easy-motion bullshit. “I can buy you a few minutes but not many.”
Awesome. Just perfect. A few minutes in a life-or-death situation. I need more than that! Hanging up the cell phone, I toss it in the bag, pull out the map, and unfold it on the bed. I will find that perfume. I have to find it. Immediately, I start rifling through his bedside drawers, under his pillow and mattress, all the obvious spots. Under his bed is completely vacant. At his now neatly organized desk, I move objects around, hoping the bottle just slid behind something. Annoyed, I start messing up everything in sight, the sound of the clock ringing in my ear, taunting me.
“Look for what means something to him,” I mumble to myself, noticing that even the area around the painting is clear. “What means something to him?” my question continues to repeat itself as I move books on shelves—the ones labeled about design. Frustrated, I’m running out of places to look. I open his bathroom and start looking in drawers and under the sink. Upset, I toss open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, where I move around aspirin bottles, mouthwash, and protection just in case he got his way for the night. Disgusted, I close the mirror and stare at my reflection.
You loved your sketchbook and wouldn’t want it far from you at any given moment, not even when you slept. The words are ringing in my ear. Wouldn’t want it far from me at any given time ... at any given time ... not even when I slept. With a shove from the universe, I bolt out of the bathroom, out of his bedroom, and back to the living room, where I notice his gym bag is nestled close to the couch, not too far from where his body lays still.
Rushing over to the bag, I unzip it and toss out his dirty clothes. When I get to the bottom, I see a picture of Nick and I from earlier in the week, and underneath is the very bottle I’m looking for.
In a whisper, I sigh, “Things you love you never want far from you.” My attention turns to Nick, “You really are falling for me, aren’t you?”
I shake it off, grab the bottle, and sprint over to the map that’s laying out waiting for me. With my thumb, I flick the lid off and begin spraying, hoping there’s enough left in the bottle. To my relief, the map starts displaying roads, trails, and finally a marked area that I assume is our next adventure. Putting down the bottle on the bed, I roll the map back up, gently place it in my purse, and dash to the window. Time is nowhere near on my side—there’s the sound of a key in the front door.
As I pull the curtain back, I hear a gasp, “Oh God! Nick!”
Quickly, I unhook the window. To my surprise, I hear a voice croak at me, “Wait!”
I turn as one foot slides onto the ledge, making eye contact with Arnett as he croaks, “Is he dead?” The look of panic is not one I can bare, but before I have the chance to respond, Arnett shrieks, “Peyton! Did you kill him? Did you kill my son? Is he dead?!”
Startled, I raise my eyebrows, “Your son?!”
“Is he?” Tears crawl into his throat. “Tell me you didn’t kill him. Tell me you didn’t kill my only son.”
“I didn’t,” are the last words I say before I step out the window, setting flight for the hotel room where I hope Justin still waits.
Flying as fast as I can, I soar in through the bedroom window of the room we’ve spent the last few nights in, which now looks as perfect as the moment we arrived. Hyperventilating from the exhaustion, I grab the bag that’s waiting for me, placing my purse inside of it, safely zipping it up, while tossing the phone out the window before shutting it tight.
I rush out of the room to see Justin waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, terror on his face, “You’re late.”
“Problems, everywhere,” I grumble, rushing as fast I can down the stairs. “Nick relocated the bottle to a highly unlikely spot, and before I could get out Arnett shows up, sees Nick passed out, and asks did I kill his son—”
“His son?” The word startles Justin as much as it did me.
“Yeah!” I snap. “Who saw that coming?”
“You know, sometimes it’s best to hide things in plain sight.”
“We have to go now! And Arnett saw me take the window out, so they’re going to be looking toward the sky for us. We have no choice but to use the front door.”
“Breathe,” Justin pulls out a small vile I recognize. “We will walk out the front door because that was the original plan. This’ll help just a little.”
He dabs a little on his fingertips and touches my top, transforming it into a long-sleeve, black, button-up dress shirt, and my bottoms into a white pencil skirt and heels with a fedora similar to his on my head. With a smile, I look up at him and shake my head, “Now we look like Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Ah, if Bonnie and Clyde were high-class criminals,” he grabs the briefcase bag and tosses it over his shoulder, a pair of eye glasses on his nose. Taking my hand, he smirks, “Follow my lead.”
The two of us rush out of the room for the last time, leaving no trace behind, and slip onto the elevator, where I feel anxiety grow once again.
Justin looks at me and says, “Keep your face down, use your hat to keep it hidden, and stay focused. Whatever you do, Peyton, whatever you feel, you have to remember whose side you’re on.”
“The Lost Boys,” I state as the doors open.
“You’re looking for who?” the girl behind the desk croaks. “Peyton? Just a second.” Hearing the keys type fast, she says, “No record of any Peyton staying here.”
I notice a pair of nude pumps at the counter, very scuffed around the toe, tugging at my heart as I recall the pair my mother often wore. Clutching my hand tighter, Justin leads me through the lobby. My head’s down, still focused on the heels, so focused that the woman’s voice sounds like a distant whisper, while Justin’s is held proudly up. “No ma’am. This shows no one has stayed in the penthouse for almost a month,” she follows up.
Almost out of the lobby, I shake off the thought of that being my mother, and I relax as I step out of the door but accidentally bump into someone.
“So sorry,” I apologize quickly.
“It’s OK, my fault,” the man’s voice says, turning to keep his body moving forward.
The familiar voice causes me to do the one thing I know I’m not supposed to. I look up over my shoulder at the same time my father does. His heartbroken eyes meet mine from across the lobby through the glass as Justin slides in the taxi. For just a moment, memories flood back to me from my childhood, to my early teen years, up until the last moment we spoke. A faint smile rests on my face. It looks like his body is moving in slow motion, first looking away then and looking back to see me disappear as the taxi drives off.
Unaware of what just happened, Justin rests a hand on my thigh, “You all right?”
Swallowing my anxiety, my pain, my doubt, I nod, “I will be.”
In silence, we enjoy a quick ride down to the dock where a little boat is waiting for us beside Jake. Justin pays the driver, and we jog over to the boat as another taxi arrives. Jake starts the motor and takes off full speed away from the dock, away from the possibility of being caught, away from Arnett, Nick, and my father. Away from my first long con, my first set of serious mistakes, and away from my mixed emotions.
Justin’s hand slips on top of mine as Jake pulls up to the shore near his horses, where we see Aiden, Eiden, Peter, and Belle on the main deck of the ship waiting for us. Keeping the motor running, Jake nods for us to get off.
“Thanks, Jake, it’s been real,” Justin extends his hand.
Jake shakes in return, “That it has.”
I lean over and place a kiss on his cheek, “You’ve been fantastic.”
“Peyton,” Jake calls my name as Justin flies to the ship.
“Yeah?”
“I know it’s hard to know it right now, but you’ll see family is really who you choose—nothing more, nothing less.”
With a swallow, I lift my body up and meet the others on the ship. As soon as I land, Peter rips open the bag, pulls out the map, and kisses it as he revels in the lines across it.