Текст книги "Hate Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15TH

For being you.

7:25am

Aiden stops by my dorm before he goes to breakfast.

He sees me dressed in normal clothes as opposed to my uniform and says, “I forgot you’re going back to California today. Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks sweetly.

I smile at him, remembering the last time I saw my dad. I wonder if he would’ve done anything differently if he had known it would be the last time he’d ever see me.

“No, Aiden. But I want to thank you.”

“For what?”

What do I say? What are the last words I want him to remember?

“For being you, Aiden. For being everything.” I turn away, pretending to look for a bracelet because I’m not able to look into his beautiful green eyes.

He turns my chin toward him. “You’re coming back, right?”

“I sure hope so,” I say with a grin, trying to making light of it.

“I hope so too,” he says, kissing my forehead.

I hug him tightly, kiss him passionately, and then watch as he limps up the hill toward class.

I go back into the privacy of my room and make a few more phone calls.

It’s perfectly perfect.

10:30am

Cooper texts me as I’m en route to the airport.

Cooper:  I don’t like this. I should be going with you.

Me:  I’m meeting Sam. Just have to sign papers dealing with this takeover. He has power of attorney, but it’s limited and doesn’t cover this.

Okay, so I’m lying to him, but only about why I’m meeting Sam.

But why I’m meeting him is too personal to share with Cooper.

He’d say I’m admitting defeat.

But I want to be prepared.

Just in case.

Cooper:  Still . . . 

Me:  Your flight lands in L.A. before mine does. I’m wearing the wig and the flight is booked under your name. I’ll see you when I get there. 

Cooper:  You swear to me you’re going to see Sam?

Me:  I swear. Plus, I don’t think it would be smart to both miss school on the same day. 

Cooper:  True. All right. See you tonight.

On the plane, I look at a magazine that Peyton gave me last night at dinner. On page eight is a spread about Damian, including two pictures of him and Peyton. In one they are coming out of a trendy restaurant and in the other coming out of a club. Obviously, he didn’t keep her busy in the bedroom the whole time.

Shit.

But then I look at the caption and realize that you can’t clearly see her face in either photo.

Damian Moran, lead singer of the hottest new band on the planet, Twisted Dreams, was seen this past weekend with another blonde on his arm. And this blonde apparently held his attention for the entire weekend. Who is this gorgeous mystery girl? Can she tie down the playboy? And, come on, Damian, how about some equal opportunity for us brunettes? 

I’m really thankful they’re spending the holiday in St. Croix, where there are no photographers.

And I pray Damian will keep their relationship a secret until March.

I roll the magazine up and carefully put it in my backpack next to the brunette wig.

I’m not wearing the wig for this part of the journey.

I’m just me.

I have to be.

I close my eyes and listen to music during the long flight, arrive on schedule, and hop in Sam’s rental car.

We drive for about thirty minutes through what I think is one of the most beautiful parts of the country.

Hilly. Lush. Green. Blue sky.

Sam turns onto a dirt road, winds up a hill, and says, “This is the spot.”

I nod, understanding and taking it in.

He stops the car on a large flat area. “Is this what you were envisioning?”

I get out of the car and walk toward the view of the ocean.

And smile.

“You did good, Sam. It’s perfectly perfect.”

“I got lucky,” Sam chuckles.

“No,” I say. “It was fate.”

I spin around, taking in the beautiful view in every direction.

“You’ve done everything exactly the way I requested, right?”

“I followed your instructions to the letter.”

“And you’ll do whatever it takes from a price and timing standpoint? We don’t have much time.”

“The current owners are aware of your timeline and if the offer is what they expect, we’ll have the deal closed on Monday.” He looks at me closely. “Are you sure this is what you want? To be cremated? To have your ashes spread here?”

“Yes. I’m positive.”

He shakes his head, but all he says is, “Then I just need your signature.” He holds out a clipboard, hands me a pen, and points to the places I should sign.

“Thank you so much, Sam. I love it.” I pull an envelope out of my purse and say, “And here’s this.”

He takes it from me and places it safely in his briefcase.

I look back at the ocean, smile again, and feel an overwhelming sense of peace.

I close my eyes.

Say a prayer.

Then get driven back to the airport.

Cooper:  The police questioned Vincent today. He admitted to giving her a business card. When they asked if he knew she was dead, he acted surprised. He asked if they thought he had anything to do with it. They said they were just trying to piece together a timeline of her last hours alive. He said that he only saw her in the club and had hoped to hear from her this week. He even offered to take a lie detector test because, he said, for business reasons, he didn’t want his name to be associated with a murder investigation. He had an alibi and passed the lie detector test. 

Me:  He once told me that the key to lying is to convince yourself it’s the truth.

Cooper:  That’s also the key to passing a lie detector test. 

Madder than a wet hen.

7:30pm

I log into the airplane’s Wi-Fi and get an instant message from Grandpa.

Grandpa:  Been digging into the history of this company. Here’s an interesting fact. Vincent inherited a decent chunk of money when his mother and stepfather were killed, which he then immediately used to buy out a small production company. Guess which one it was?

Me:  I have no idea. 

Grandpa:  The one that made A Day at the Lake. Remember, when it was first made it was pretty low budget. So in buying it, he automatically had the ability to do a remake. But based on what I’ve been told by the investors we’ve bought out, his decision to do the remake came this spring. I’m assuming that coincides with when he met you. 

Me:  Wow. How many investors do you have deals with?

Grandpa:  Four out of the six. Those four were pretty eager to sell. They believe this movie has become an obsession. They were also worried because he’s not investing in as many movie futures as he used to. He’s well-known in the industry for being golden in selecting them. 

Me:  When will he find out that his investors have sold?

Grandpa: He found out today when we delivered a letter of intent to take control of his company. I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall for that.

Me:  Me too. Thanks, Grandpa. I love you.

Me:  And Grandma. Please tell her I love her. Like, in case something should ever happen to me. You know?

Grandpa:  If something happens to you, I’m killing the bastard myself. You have my promise. He won’t get the luxury of jail time. But I’m definitely glad you’re hidden away at school while this is all taking place. He’s going to be madder than a wet hen.

Me:  A wet hen?

Grandpa:  If you’d ever seen one, you wouldn’t have to ask. 

Me:  Believe it or not, that makes me feel better. At least I won’t worry about him getting out of jail someday and hurting my sisters. 

Grandpa:  Exactly. And I love you too, Hotshot.

Grandpa:  Wait. Sam just messaged me and said he met you in California today.

Me:  Yeah.

Grandpa:  Says it was confidential.

Me:  Yeah.

Grandpa:  Damian called me yesterday.

Me:  That’s nice of him.

Grandpa:  Are you going back to the club tonight? After that girl was killed?

Me:  Yes.

Grandpa:  There’s a reason you wear camouflage when you’re hunting, Keatyn.

Me:  I’ll be wearing it tonight. And I’ll be in a duck blind.

Sorta.

Grandpa:  I don’t want to end up owning some stupid movie company because you went out and got yourself killed. You understand me?

Me:  Yes, sir.

Grandpa:  I admire your courage, Hotshot. Text me when it’s over and you’re safe. I’ll stay up.

Me:  Grandpa, thanks for understanding that I have to do this. 

Grandpa:  We’re cut from the same cloth. And don’t worry, I WILL NOT be mentioning this to your grandmother.

Me: Thank goodness.

Cooper meets me at my plane and introduces me to two of his friends. Both are cops who will be joining us tonight. They’ll be following Vincent when they’re off duty to make sure nothing like what happened to the girl from the club happens again.

Before we go into the club, I tell Cooper, “If something goes wrong—like if he takes me—promise me you’ll come and get me.”

“I’m going to do more than promise.” He points out my locket to his friends. “Tracking device number one.” Then he clamps a surprisingly stylish thick bangle bracelet around my wrist and says, “Tracking device number two. It operates in a different way, but if he scans you, he will find that and your locket easily.”

“Do you think he would?”

“Hard to say, but we want to be prepared. And this little beauty,” he says, holding up what looks like a little blister pad, “is the best one. Top dollar, espionage kind of stuff. Bend at the waist and flip your hair over.”

I follow his instructions and feel him stick it right by my hairline.

“Okay, flip back over. Guys, did you bring the scanner?”

One of the guys nods and hands him a small scanner. He runs it across me and quickly finds both my necklace and bracelet, but when he runs it across my shoulders it doesn’t go off. The guys all nod.

We get to the club and meet up with the staff. They all know that we’re planning to have a memorial for Leighton tonight.

“We just want to give a big Fuck you to whoever did this to her,” Marla, the woman in charge of the dancers, says. “Also, ladies, do not go out with anyone you meet here. Even if they are a VIP. Not until her killer is caught.”

The girls all nod. Some are crying.

Marla speaks to the doormen. “Every person who walks through the door tonight will get stamped with the chaos symbol. For those of you who don’t know, Leighton was wearing a temporary tattoo on her hip and it was one of the few places she wasn’t stabbed. I think you all know my pet name for this place is Utter Chaos, even though I can’t get the boss man to give it an official name. So, we’re going to celebrate that. Now, let’s have a silent moment for Leighton.”

Everyone lowers their heads for a few moments.

Then Marla claps her hands and says, “All right, everyone to work.”

Once I’m dressed and ready, I talk to Troy, who won’t go in the DJ booth tonight until the program starts.

“This is going to be like New Year’s Eve on steroids.”

“I hope so.”

“You look very hot.”

I'm wearing a neon pink push-up bra, which is peeking out from my teeny black dance top. And, with it, an ass-skimmingly short flirty black skirt. “All the girls are dressed this way.”

“I sure hope he shows up.”

“Me too. Although, if he does, he's going to be pissed. He was notified today that four of his six investors have been bought out and that he’s probably going to lose control of his company.”

“That your doing, too?”

I smile. “Shhh.”

“Keats, do you ever do anything small?”

“Not anymore. Wait until you see the ending.”

“Ending?”

“Well, the big finale, so to speak. Provided all goes as planned.”

“That’s the part I’m worried about. What if it doesn’t go as planned?”

I pat him on the back. “Do me a favor and think positive. Also, I have a big favor to ask you.”

“Another one?” Troy laughs.

“Yeah. Do you know someone who either works for a delivery service or would be willing to pretend to?”

“One of the valets does.”

I get a package out of my bag. It’s addressed to Vincent Sharpe at his office. “Do you think he could deliver this tomorrow? At, say, four?”

“Sure. What’s in it?”

“Just a photo.”

Troy is getting ready to ask more questions when Cooper comes backstage and tells us it’s time.

Which means Vincent is here.

“Oh, good. I was afraid he wasn’t going to show up.”

“All right, girls. Take your spots. Cage girls, get loaded up,” Marla instructs.

I get in the cage as it is hoisted into the air and swung out over the dance floor. The eight cage dancers sprinkle a few black rose petals over the dance floor.

I watch as a few people dancing look up to see where they're coming from.

Right before the cages start their decent, the music completely stops and the lights go out.

Troy speaks into the microphone. “A few days ago, one of our dancers was brutally murdered. She left work and never made it home. Everyone, please be vigilant when you leave any club and never go home with a stranger. Tonight, we're going to honor her life, starting with a moment of silence for our friend, Leighton Wall.”

The place goes completely silent.

After a few moments, Troy yells, “Leighton, girl, R.I.P. This utter chaos is for you!”

The cages hit the platforms, causing the bases to suddenly light up, tonight in her favorite color: neon pink.

Pink beams of light shine down, spotlighting each cage and the spunky crazy song I chose starts playing.

I start dancing like I've never danced in my life.

Each dancer’s skin is covered in artistic neon pink scrolls and numerous glow-in-the-dark chaos tattoos.

The song is upbeat and sassy, about a trouble-making girl.

Partway through the beginning of song, I notice Vincent near my cage trying to get a closer look at me.

When he gets close enough, I bend down, grab a handful of black rose petals, and throw them out of the cage directly at him.

Then I grab more and let them fly out of my fingers as I spin around.

Vincent plucks one out of the air and studies it.

Yeah, asshole, those are for you. A black rose petal warning, because you and your company are going down.

When the song gets to the part about flipping off the world, I raise both my middle fingers into the air and salute Vincent, which gets the crowd cheering.

I dance more.

I love this song.

Suddenly, nets in the ceiling open up and thousands of black rose petals fall like confetti over the dance floor.

Once all eyes in the vicinity are back on me—particularly Vincent’s—I blow the crowd a kiss, then bend over, flip up my skirt, and reveal the big block letters running across my naughty Santa underwear.

When the crowd reads the slutty FUCK ME message on my shaking ass, the guys jump up and down, scream, whistle, and cheer.

And make some very naughty comments.

It’s awesome.

And, finally, I see the response I was hoping for: pure rage in Vincent’s eyes.

That's right, be mad at me. Just me. No one else. I’m going to be way more than trouble, Vincent. I’m going to be your worst nightmare.

A hurricane of problems.

When the song finishes, a hush spreads through the crowd, except for a little murmuring as they try to figure out what’s happening next.

The spotlights leave the dancers and a single pink light shines on six men dressed in black, who are now filing into the club.

You hear gasps and cries from girls as they walk by, and everyone else is straining their necks to see what’s going on.

The men work their way through the crowd, carrying a coffin, and come to a stop in front of my cage.

When the spotlight shines back on me, I’m on the floor of the cage, my eyes shut and my body still.

I hear the cage open and feel Cooper's strong arms pull me into the coffin.

I lie motionless as he makes the sign of a cross, folds my arms over my chest, whispers “All’s good” to me, and then shuts the coffin lid.

If things go as planned, they will lead a processional of bouncers, waitresses, and clubgoers out the front door.

I lie still in the coffin, trying not to be creeped out.

This was the perfect exit for me. There’s only one way Vincent could get close to me tonight.

And that’s to start shooting people, which was Cooper’s worse-case scenario.

I’m just praying I don’t hear any shots.

I would never forgive myself if a gun fight started in a crowded place like this.

The sound I do hear is a big relief.

The beating of helicopter blades slicing through the air.

I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding as I feel the casket being loaded into the chopper.

Once the door shuts, Cooper opens the lid, so I can roll out of the coffin. I stay on my knees and sneak a peek out of the window, quickly spotting Vincent in the crowd.

As the helicopter lifts into the air, pink, red, and gold fireworks shoot into the sky.

The combination of the cheers, the fireworks, and the helicopter is deafening.

I watch the fireworks and pray that Leighton knows how sorry I am.

That I never meant for anyone to get hurt.

“That was freaking nuts!” Cooper says. “And safe. He didn't even have a chance to touch you.”

“He looked mildly irritated when I threw the black roses at him, mad when I flipped him off, and completely pissed when the guys started cheering at the message on my underwear.”

“Message on your underwear?”

“Yeah. I didn’t mention that to you.”

Cooper narrows his eyes. “What’d they say?”

“Fuck me.”

“Oh, Keatyn. Jeez. We want to make him uncomfortable, not homicidal.”

“He’s already homicidal.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was a good plan.”

“And honored her, I hope.”

The cop says, “I heard there was a very large anonymous donation made to the family's fund today.”

“I heard that too.” I smile. “Oh, Cooper! Do you have my phone? I did something else,” I say, while firing off a quick text to let both Aiden and Grandpa know I’m okay.

“What?”

“How long do you think it will be before he’ll want to leave?”

“If I were him, I’d be getting the hell out of there and never coming back,” Cooper states.

“You should have seen his face when Cooper closed the lid on the casket,” the cops says. “If I weren’t armed, I would have been scared.”

My phone dings with a text from Billy the valet.

I read his message and laugh. “It seems that Mr. Sharpe’s Porsche is somehow missing from the club’s parking lot. He just about blew a gasket."

Cooper and the cop both start laughing hysterically, part of which is probably just a release from the stress of tonight.

I giggle too. "Gosh, that felt good. To finally feel in control. I'm still worried he's going to hurt someone, though. Are you sure they’re watching him 24/7?”

"Yes, a two-man team. Off duty cops."

“Do the cops know there's also a two-man team from Garrett's company watching all of them?”

“Naw,” Cooper says, “I didn't think they needed to know.”

A few minutes later, the helicopter sets down on the roof of the Moran Movies headquarters and lets us off.

Damian is waiting for us at the rooftop door.

He sighs with relief, gives me a big hug, and I introduce him to Cooper.

He looks at Cooper and squints. “You’ve got to be the hot soccer coach.”

Cooper and I both laugh.

“It all went well. And his Porsche went missing for good measure. I mean, just in case the coffin and all wasn’t enough for him.”

Damian shakes his head. “I’m glad I wasn’t there. I wouldn’t have been able to watch you get put into a coffin.”

“If it weren’t for all the adrenaline,” Cooper says, “I wouldn’t have been able to either.”

The rest of the movie.

10:30pm

On the flight back home, Cooper and I are both too pumped up to sleep.

“Let’s watch the rest of the movie.”

“Maybe we should just fast forward to the end. I mean, more people are gonna die and all that will be left is Matt, Lacy, and Vince.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

We watch in fast motion as the dead bodies pile up, Cooper stopping on a scene where Lacy and Matt are in a storage shed.

“It’s Vince that’s killing everyone. He wants you to go with Egypt with him, doesn’t he?”

Lacy sobs into his chest. “I think so.”

He pushes her away, holding her at arm’s length. “We’re leaving now. Running. We’ll find someone somewhere.”

“He said there isn’t anyone for ten miles.”

“He’s been killing everyone, Lacy. Wake up. He’s a liar. I’ll keep you safe, baby. I promise. And if you want, I’ll go to Egypt with you.”

Lacy smiles through her tears and leans in to kiss him. 

WHAM!

Vince hits Matt in the back of the head with a shovel. 

Matt falls to the ground. 

Dead.

Lacy screams as Vince starts moving toward her. 

“It’s just you and me now,” Vince says creepily.

Lacy takes a step back, picks a life jacket up off a counter, and tosses it at him. 

Vince moves sideways, avoiding the jacket and taking another step toward her. “When you first told me you might not go, I asked you if you wanted this as badly as I do. You told me yes.”

“Wait, stop!” I shout.

“What?” Cooper says, almost jumping out of his seat.

I place my fingertips on my forehead, like it will help me remember. “Play that again.”

“When you first told me you might not go, I asked if you wanted this as badly as I do.”

“He said that exact line to me. About making his movie. You want this as badly as I do, don’t you?”

“That’s creepy,” Cooper says as he rewinds and presses play.

“. . . You told me yes.”

Lacy screams, “Well, I changed my mind!” 

She takes another step backwards.

“No! Don’t give me that bullshit. Matt changed your mind! You came crying to me about it! I told you to figure it out.”

Lacy has a flashback of telling Vince she didn’t think she was going to study abroad and indicating that Matt wasn’t very supportive. Vince offers to take her for a walk to discuss it. 

Lacy laughs. “I don’t think you can solve my boyfriend troubles, Vince, but thanks.”

Vince says, “Maybe you need to solve them yourself.”

And I have a flashback of my own.

I’m standing on the deck at a party, turning down a walk on the beach. “Thanks for the offer, Vincent. It’s sweet of you, but I don’t think anyone can solve my boy problems.”

“Maybe you need to solve them yourself.”

The movie keeps playing.

Vince is yelling at her, taking another step toward her, backing her into a corner. “But you didn’t fucking listen to me. You listened to him.”

Realizing she’s trapped, she pleads, “Don’t do this, Vincey. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

He doesn’t stop moving toward her.

And he doesn’t reply. 

He grabs her by the neck and starts dragging her out of the shed. “I want you, and I’m going to have you. All to myself.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter, another scene flashing in front of my eyes.

Vincent is dragging me and I plead, “Stop. Please, Vincent. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. I promise I’ll make the movie with you. Just please don’t do this. Please.”

He doesn’t stop. 

And he doesn’t reply.

He just keeps dragging me, closer and closer to the door. 

When we’re almost to the door, he says, “I want you, and I’m going to have you. All to myself.”

“Keatyn, what?”

“He did the same thing, said the same thing, as he was dragging me out the door. That he was going to have me all to himself.”

Cooper takes his jacket off and lays it across the top of me. “You’re shaking. Stop thinking about it.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Cooper. Thank you for everything. For going along with my crazy schemes.”

“Somehow I doubt Garrett would have gone for the cage dancing.” He smiles at me and pats the top of my hand. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Cooper. Let’s keep watching.”

Just when you think Vince is about to take her out the door, Matt stands up and staggers toward him. 

Matt is holding a boat anchor that he swings up into the air and then slams into Vince’s head. 

Vince drops to the ground, bleeding profusely.

But he’s not dead yet. 

He says, “We’re still going to Egypt together, Lacy.” His voice starts to fade as he nears death. “And it will be perfection.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Did he memorize the whole damn movie?”

“Did he say that to you?”

“At some point, yeah. Actually, no, I think it was in the note with the photos.”

Lacy helps Matt stagger outside.

She suggests they try the boat again. 

It still doesn’t start, so Lacy lifts the motor cover. “Just the battery cable.” She pops it back on and starts the boat. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Before we do, Lacy. I’m sorry. If you really want to go to Africa, we’ll figure out a way to stay together. I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to stand in the way of your dreams.”

“You are my dreams, Matty.” Lacy throws her arms around him, smothers him with kisses, and then they drive off in the boat as the sun is rising on a new day.

The End

Cooper shuts my laptop. “So, in this, Vince is the bad guy who dies. Do you think he changed that it the new script?”

“He said he was changing a lot of it. Special effects, stunt scenes. He made it sound like the new Lacy was supposed to be some badass heroine, but if she were, she’d save all her friends. And if she saved them, there’d be no story. No plot. I remember him saying something about getting someone ugly to play my boyfriend and not having any kissing scenes. I suppose young Vincent was jealous of Matt.”

“Because he wants Lacy for himself.”

“I think we need to get a copy of that script.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“That’s another thing agents are for.”