Tom notices. “Who is that?”
“We’re ready,” Emilie calls in the background, and at first I think I’m dreaming.
“Be right there,” Doug shouts out. I’m not dreaming. It’s a nightmare where Emilie is telling Doug, the killer, that she is ready to go. With him!
“Emilie!” My throat vibrates and stings around my shouting. “Don’t go with him!”
“Pish!” Doug yelps then lowers his voice and says, “You about blasted my eardrum out. She can’t hear you now, she’s in the car. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He rings off.
“Emilie! Emilie!” My chest explodes, and her names blasts from my mouth over and over.
“Sir,” the same Indian hostess says. “You’re going to have to calm down.”
Tom wraps his arms around me from behind and puts his mouth at my ear. “Get your head about ya or we’ll be thrown out. That was Doug I’m guessing.”
I nod, not trusting myself to say anything without screaming it.
“Should you try to ring her parents again?”
I nod again, and he releases me.
“Take a few breaths first,” he says.
One breath is all I can afford.
“Hello, Mrs. Gold. This is Julian.” I take another breath. “I need to you go get Emilie and—”
“This is weird,” she says. “I just talked to that producer of yours. I really don’t like that woman.”
“Mrs. Gold—”
“She kept going on about Doug being a ‘complete nutter.’ Whatever that means. He’s a fine guard for Emilie. He seems to really care for her and if that makes him a nutter then—”
“He’s mad, Mrs. Gold. You must get him away from her.”
“Seemed pretty happy to me— What is it, Richard? Oh, yes, that is her purse. Go catch up with them? They just turned off the drive.”
“Yes, catch up with them,” I say. “Bring her back home.”
“I’m sorry, Julian. Gonna have to let you go. We need to give Emilie her purse. Bye-bye now.” The line clicks.
“No, don’t give her the purse. Get her away from Doug.”
Tom pulls my mobile from my hand. I drop to the nearest chair and pant.
“Feck, they’re not answering now,” he says.
“No, no.” I grab my head while it rocks back and forth. “No, God, no.”
“Sir, are you his father?” The question rockets through my ears…in an Indian accent.
Tom clears his throat. “No. He’s my—”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to allow him on the plane in this state, and we’re about to board.”
Chapter 20
“He’ll be fine,” Gregory says.
No, I won’t. My heart hammers away in my chest; it feels like my eyes might pop out with every beat. Th-rumb, th-rumb, th-rumb goes my ears. It’s so loud I can’t hear what Kasen is saying, his voice so low at my ear. “Huh?”
“If you want to get to Emilie,” he says, squeezing the back of my neck, “you need to give him a nod and a smile. Yes, you better come up with a smile.”
Aye, Emilie. Get to Emilie.
I look up and try to make out the figure of the air hostess. My eyes are burning like they’ve been doused with alcohol, so I can’t be totally sure I’m looking at the right person. It’s just a dark blur to the side of the desk. I jerk my head up then let my chin drop again. Once is enough, yeah?—It feels like my cheeks are cracking when I pull my lips back. A smile?
“Wow,” Luke whispers, another blur in front of me. He clears his throat and carries on in a more confident tone. “He had his wisdom teeth out. The nerves in his cheeks….”
###
On the plane, Tom and Gregory ask for every detail of my conversation with Doug.
“He called her Jenni.” I rock my head back and forth in my hands. “He called her Jenni. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“I’m ringing the police again.” Tom holds my mobile to his ear. He won’t give it back with the possibility Doug might call me again. “They have to listen to us now. He admitted to killing the Las Vegas boy.”
“Timothy Jones.” The boy in Las Vegas is Timothy Jones. Doug killed Timothy Jones when we all thought our minder had the flu.
“Yeah.” Gregory unbuckles his seat belt and stands.
“Sir, you must stay in your seat,” a skinny, blonde air hostess comes over, and Tom hides the mobile at his ear. “We are one minute from taking off, sir.”
“Luke, let me beside Julian,” Gregory says. The two switch places…I think. I’m not looking, not caring. But I do feel an over-large hand clamp down on my shoulder. “Julian, don’t despair. We have to see this as a good thing, right? He wants to protect her.”
No one understands.
Emilie is forever getting in the middle of the ruckus. She doesn’t realize she’s too small to break it up. If Doug confronts Shane, Emilie will get in the middle. He’ll reach out for Shane and get Emilie instead. He’ll shake her, choke her.
“I was being a choob back in the room earlier. Emilie, I just wonder what I’m up against. Did you love Mark? Did you—”
“No! We didn’t…do that. I’m starting to think he might’ve been gay. I mean, Luke snuck by me. Mark didn’t really try—I’m a virgin.”
“I already knew that. What I need to know is am I competing with a ghost?”
“No, Julian. I thought I loved him. But the longer I’m with you…it’s freaking me out.”
###
I squeeze my arms tighter around me while I mind the feel of holding her. That day she told me this, she let me pull her to my lap. Cradling her in my arms is truly the best feeling in the world. In that moment, it felt like I could keep her safe from anything.
“Are you asleep?” Parker whispers.
Not a chance.
Opening my eyes, I try not to scowl at him, but it’s hard.
“It’s just been a long time since you slept. Uh…the air hostess told Tom we’re fifteen minutes away, but we’re circling because of bad weather. Or maybe not,” Parker says as the speaker overhead crackles.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’ve had a spot of bad weather, but we have just been cleared to land at Dulles International Airport. Welcome to Washington D.C. Please ensure that your seats are in the upright position and your tray tables….”
I can’t hear anyone or anything as we de-board. I see nothing while we speed-walk through the terminal.
They won’t let us run, but everything still blurs and slurs around me.
“I’ll get a van,” Gregory says…slurs.
“Julian, give me your mobile.” Tom reaches out.
“I don’t have—oh.” I’ve already forgotten he gave it back to me on the plane. So why is he taking it back?
“Doug isn’t answering for me,” Tom says.
That perks me up. “I’ll ring him.”
And it goes straight to voicemail. Wait. I have a voicemail.
“That guard of yours is crazy,” comes Mr. Gold’s voice. “He tried to kill Shane. Do you hear me? Tried to kill Shane.”
Oh God. Oh God. No, there’s something saving about that message. Something….
If he’s fussed about Doug trying to kill Shane, then Shane is truly alive.
And he fussed about Shane, not Emilie.
“Let’s go.” Gregory comes up. “The car park, level four.”
“She’s all right.” I look up from my mobile, and take off running. “He tried to kill Shane. Tried. And nothing was said about Emilie.”
The minders catch up quickly—Kasen, Luke, and Parker amongst them.
Luke veers over and runs along-side me. “Really?”
“Hold up.” Tom throws his arm out for us to wait for traffic. Cars are scattered about in front of the sidewalk, people in different stages of loading or unloading their trunks. “Now go.”
“Yes. Mr. Gold is fussed about Doug trying to kill his nephew,” I say. “He said nothing about Emilie. She’s got to be all ri
ght, doesn’t she?”
Kasen smiles at me while we run through the car park. “That’s what it sounds like.”
“Here,” Gregory calls out. “No, here it is.”
He has the door unlocked before we reach the van, and we hop in.
“Emilie’s house,” I say and pull up the Golds’ number.
###
Mr. Gold shakes his fist at me as soon as he answers the door. “You see what has happened now? Shane told us what happened in Utah with that crazy fan too. Thought we wouldn’t find out about that, huh?”
“I was never hiding it, was I?” I shout and brush by him. “Where is she?”
“No.” He pushes against Gregory’s chest. “The rest of you bunch aren’t coming in. And I want you out, Julian McLane. Right now.”
Stop. Stop. Stop. Don’t blow it, Julian. This is his house, and it’s his daughter who has been put in danger. By me. Over and over because of me.
“Mr. Gold, I’m truly sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
“Of course you didn’t. You’re just a boy. You can’t take care of her. I can.” He looks around and raises his eyebrows when his eyes land on a piece of folded paper on the coffee table. “She may be emancipated now, but Emilie’s not going with you anywhere.” In two days, she’ll be eighteen, but that doesn’t matter right now, does it? “I thought she’d be safe with your security team that you flaunted in my face. You knew I couldn’t buy a team like you’ve got. You knew it and you showed me what you could do and I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if you started at all that fan ruckus yourself. Manipulation just to take my daughter with you.”
I wince and turn away. No, I didn’t start it, but I was glad about it, wasn’t I? Glad about the pressure it put on everyone. The Golds…Emilie, they might have had an idea, but they wouldn’t know exactly how complicated it could get with the fans. I knew, and I didn’t warn them. Instead, I let it happen. “I’m sorry.”
“And people who don’t even know her hate her because of you.” Mr. Gold rocks back on his heels. “There’s an ‘I hate Emilie’ campaign on that social site now.”
I hadn’t heard of that. “It’s because she’s away from me.” Any little separation and they think we’re breaking up.
Mrs. Gold leans over a playpen and hands Hannah a colorful toy. “I didn’t know that’d happen,” she says.
Mr. Gold snorts and folds his arms over his chest. But his stubbornness can’t deter me from what I need so badly.
“Where is she?” I ask again.
“She’s in the basement.” Mrs. Gold turns from the playpen and grabs my hand when I start for the door on the other side of the small kitchen. “But she’s sleeping. I gave her something to calm her down.”
“She was a mess.” Mr. Gold shoulder’s drop, his tense body seemingly melts. He grinds his palms into his eyes. “Just a mess.”
My stomach is like a Tesla machine—buzzing, snapping, stinging. I head for the door. “I won’t wake her.”
Tom, Gregory and Mr. Gold argue behind me while I take the stairs two at a time. And there she is, lying on her side, facing a yellow wall. Oh, that’s right. I knew they’d fixed up the basement, I just didn’t know it was for her. It looks a lot like her old room—yellow and blue everywhere.
When I get closer to her bed, I see a scrape on her cheek. Some dark brown hair is pulled loose of her ponytail and swoops down over her eyes. Her ear pokes through her hair, the ladybug earing turned upside down.
Their argument upstairs reaches me. Mr. Gold’s words echo in my head along with my mum’s—a twisting black hole of negativity. “She is not better off without me. She isn’t.”
And then Emilie’s words slam into me like an airborne fridge, “It doesn’t have to last forever for it to be perfect.”
“No, I can’t leave you.” I take several steps backward and come against a wall. Her bookshelves are on the opposite side of the room. They intended for her to come back. Always did. And I never considered it.
“Tell me what to do, Emilie. Have we made a good run of it?” No, not near enough time. But she is better off without me. “You are…you are.”
With slow steps, I make my way back to her bed. Her pony tail disappears under her chin. That lovely chin. Aye, I could draw her a hundred times and never get tired. The desire is so strong.
But not stronger than my need to hold her. Dropping to my knees, I trail my finger down her arm and fold her hand between the both of mine.
“No.” She pulls it away with a whine. “Leave us alone.”
“It’s me.” I lean in and kiss her forehead.
She squeezes her eyes shut. “Get off him!” She pushes me away and thrashes around in her bed. “Shane!”
I give up trying to hold her still.
“It’s me.” I drop my head to her waist. “It’s me, Emilie.”
She hits at my head and shoulders. My ear hums when she lands a blow there. I welcome it. Deserve it.
She stops hitting and runs her hands over my face. “Goodnight, Julian.” And she’s out again.
Someone grabs me from behind—pulls at my waist.
“Hands off,” Tom says quietly. “I’ll get him.”
“Get him out of here,” Mr. Gold whisper-shouts.
The missus sits on the side of the bed. “It’s okay, honey,” she croons.
Tom tugs me back. I don’t fight him. The backs of my heels hit every step as he drags me up the stairs.
I’m a teddy that someone removed the stuffing, but left my eyes. They bounce and roll around like the bobble heads management made in lieu of dolls. We hated the idea of dolls. Isn’t it fitting that I’ve turned into my own bobble head? The eyes watch Emilie’s red cheeks turn back to pink, her chest rising and falling, and then we’re up where the eyes can’t see her anymore.
Tom doesn’t stop until we’re back in the van. Luke climbs in after us. Parker stands there, hands in his pockets, staring at me.
“Let’s go,” Tom says.
Parker takes one last look back at the house and hops in, shutting the door behind. “Wait. Where’s Kasen?”
The door slides open again.
“There’s a window,” Kasen says. “To the basement. It’s around back.”
“We are not sneaking that girl out,” Gregory says. “We’re going to secure you boys a hotel, and I’m going to the county jail to talk to Doug.”
“Let me out,” I say.
“Gregs, are you really going to see that nutter?” Luke asks.
I slide away from Tom and wince when my knees hit the hard plastic in front of the door.
Kasen swoops an arm around my waist and pulls me out. “We can get Emilie.”
I take off running, Tom right behind us. “Leave that girl alone,” he whisper-shouts.
“You heard her dad,” Luke says, though I didn’t know he was even following. “She’s a legal adult.”
“Sh-sh.” Kasen holds an arm out. “Right here.”
The window is long—at least two meters across. I plop down and peer through just in time to catch her mum and dad leaving the room. My throat stings. Don’t leave her alone! But she doesn’t seem to mind it. Emilie is fine on her own. She’s never needed me like I need her.
“Watch out for that ant bed,” Tom says.
“Feck it all,” Gregory says. “Kasen, I’ll lower you down, and you hoist Emilie up. You stay right there, Julian. You don’t have the strength to swat a fly. It’s what happens when a person goes forty-eight hours with no sleep.”
“We’re not getting her.” I cross my legs over each other, propping my elbows on my knees.
“Jules?” Kasen sounds confused.
“I’m…” I watch her, sleeping peacefully. She blurs in front of me. “I’m leaving her.”
“You dirty bastard,” Parker says. “After all the hate that girl has gotten, her life threatened. After everything she has put up with just to be with you, you’re going to leave her?”
“I am.” My body shudders. It didn’t occur to me until now that the lads will hate me just as much as I hate myself. At least Parker anyway.
“Sure, she basically wrote our book for us for free, so now it’s time to dump her, yeah?” Parker gets beside me and kneels down. “You’re not leaving her.”
Emilie reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear. Something I’ve seen her do a hundred times. I wipe down my face and choke back a sob. “Go. Please go to the van. Be there in a minute.”
“Come on,” Kasen says. “Let’s just…come on.”
“No.”
“Parker,” Luke says. “He might just need a sec to think.”
The crunch of grass and leaves reaches my ears. They’re gone I guess, but I’m not interested in looking. Emilie has my full attention.
Her pink pajama bottoms pull tight when she draws a knee up and hugs her pillow.
I press a fist to my lips, but it slides off—my face is slick with tears.
She will never know how hard this is. She’ll be pissed, feel deserted. My body aches with every shudder. “I love you. More than anything. Please don’t hate me.” Sob after sob takes over, shaking me to the core.
The sound of crunching grass invades my break-down.
“Julian, the dad keeps looking out the front window,” Tom says.
“Oh God, I can’t leave her.” I crane my aching neck and look up at him. He wavers and blends with the trees and sky. “I can’t make myself.”
Tom scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder, and I’m painfully broken in two. The edges of me fester and bleed. I soak the back of his shirt.
Bleeding from my eyes; crying from my heart. “Bye, Emilie.”
Chapter 21
“Do we get to climb?” Parker rises up from the stylist’s chair. “Dude, did you see those climbers at the top when we were coming in?”
Aye, Parker, it’s a cool photo shoot location. Hush up about it already.
Kasen chuckles and drops into the seat Parker just left. “I grew up seeing these cliffs every day.” He looks at me. “You’d think they would pick somewhere a little more interesting than good ole Rockville, Maryland, for our book cover.”