Page 48

Madison

I’m so hungover. I had the worst feeling all night, a vague sense of dread that I couldn’t seem to shake. Drowning it in alcohol didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, and so that’s exactly what I did. Bad idea. I’m pretty sure my liver is never going to be the same.

“Ugh—never again,” I groan, rolling away from the sunlight streaming through my window. At least I made it back to my dorm room before passing out. Small victories and all that.

“I hear that,” says a groggy voice from the floor.

I roll to the edge of my bed and blink blearily down at a nest of blankets, pillows, and laundry.

Rita squints up at me from the depths of the pile.

Lindsey is passed out beside her, draped over Cameron.

They’re both snoring. How the hell did I sleep through that?

“Your phone wouldn’t shut up,” Rita says, groping around in the pile.

Eventually she finds my phone by following the charger cable, and hands it to me.

“So I put it on silent. I wasn’t snooping or anything, but I was hella drunk and it took me a minute to find the volume so I saw some of it. Somebody really fucking hates you.”

My heart plummets. Is Rhue going off on another one of his tangents? What did I do this time?

I fumble with my phone for a second, then groan as the bright screen assaults my poor tender eyes. There are over a dozen texts from an unknown number. My heart pounds so hard it hurts as I open the messages.

9:03 AM: Did you think I wouldn’t find out?

9:13 AM: I told you what would happen, little girl.

9:42 AM: You must really hate your life, you fucking slut. Running your mouth like that is how you ruin it. Is that what you want? Don’t think I won’t keep my word. Real men always keep their word.

“Which man?” I growl, frustrated and worried. What the fuck did I do last night?

“What?” Rita asks.

“Nothing. Just—hold on.”

“Mm.”

10:05 AM: I don’t think you’re taking this seriously

10:36 AM: Okay you know what? I’m a nice guy I can be a nice guy you want me to be a nice guy I’m a nice guy this is your last chance

I have to read that one twice. Whoever this is lost all of their punctuation. Then they lost most of their vocabulary. The next three texts are just strings of cuss words and gibberish.

“What the fuck are you even trying to say,” I mutter at the phone.

“You got to the coke texts, huh?”

“What?”

Rita peels one eye open and squints up at me. “The angry nonsense? Yeah. Straight-up cokehead shit. My ex used to get like that after a couple lines.”

A wave of terror washes over me. Julian?

My stomach curls into a tight, heavy ball.

My impulse is to throw my phone out the window and go back to sleep until everyone forgets I exist—but I know that will never happen.

Something set Julian off and I need to know what—and what he’s intending to do about it.

12:06 PM: I fear I may not have been clear enough before.

12:07 PM: You were told to keep your whore mouth shut. You failed to do so. According to the terms of our agreement, I am now well within my rights to take action.

12:14 PM: I’m going to give you one last chance to avoid my wrath.

Come to my house and sign an NDA regarding our relationship, sexual or otherwise.

Submit a transfer request to a university out of state.

Lose my children’s numbers and never contact them again.

If you agree to these terms, you will be compensated and we will never speak of this again.

12:18 PM: Failure to do so will result in great loss and suffering. You have until 5o’clock.

Wow. Such drama. Like seriously over the top super-villain shit. Who the hell does Julian think he is?

12:20 PM: It’s not you who’ll lose everything, Maddie. It’s your dad.

My dad’s landlord—that’s who he thinks he is. And he’s right. Fuck!

I rub my eyes hard, then my head. It’s quarter to one now—that gives me, what, three, three and a half hours to figure out what to do?

“Goddammit,” I mutter, moving my stiff and uncoordinated body out of bed. “Coming through. Clumsy feet, watch yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Rita asks, more awake now and looking worried.

“A walking ego with more money than sense is posturing threateningly,” I tell her. “I can’t think. I have to shower.”

With the hot water running down my body, my sluggish brain slowly wakes up and I realize what must have happened.

Rhue went home last night to talk to his dad.

He must have told him that he knew what really happened that day.

But why? Was he calling him out or warning him?

Was he trying to ruin my life, or is he just really good at doing it accidentally?

“Fuck it,” I say as I step out of the shower and towel off. “I’m sick of these endless questions.”

Once I’m dressed, I head back into my room. My phone is still plugged in and sitting on my bed—and so is Rita. She has her lips pressed tight together.

“Okay, chick. I snooped. You can be pissed about it later if you want, but right now just tell me what I can do to help. Who is this creep? You aren’t really going to transfer, are you?”

I hesitate. “Rita,” I ask. “Are we friends?”

It’s the same question I asked when we were driving into the woods for our hazing. She quirks her lips at me, then peers over at Lindsey and Cameron. They’re still sleeping. She gestures for me to come closer, so I sit beside her on the bed.

“When I was fourteen, I walked in on my older cousin screwing my best friend’s mom. She paid me two hundred dollars to keep my mouth shut. I took the money and kept my mouth shut. You are literally the only person I’ve ever told.”

I want to trust her. I really do. “Not quite there,” I tell her. “Something personal.”

She cocks her head and thinks about it for a minute. After a while, she gives me a nervous look, then checks on the sleeping couple again. She takes one of my hands in hers and turns her face toward the wall.

“I didn’t take two gap years,” she says so quietly that I have to lean in to hear her.

“I graduated a year late because I have a learning disability. Then, in my senior year, my best friend died. We were super close and it fucking wrecked me. I mean—really wrecked me. I spent eight months in a mental hospital because I couldn’t keep it together.

I didn’t think I was going to make it to college. I thought I was going to die in there.”

A tear slides down her cheek and I squeeze her hands. She leans into me and I put my arms around her, holding her while she shakes.

“Okay,” I breathe after she calms down. “I was Rhue’s tutor.

He and I were sort of becoming a thing—nothing official, just heavy flirtation.

Rhue’s dad is my dad’s landlord, and he owns most of the commercial property in Rochester.

Last year—he raped me. Rhue caught him, but assumed we were having an affair.

I told Rhue’s mom and she killed herself.

Last week, Rhue finally found out the truth.

He went home yesterday and had a talk with his dad.

Now his dad is threatening my dad if I don’t do what he wants me to do. ”

I cringe, still hugging her. I blurted it out so fast I couldn’t change my mind, and now I desperately wish I could snatch the words out of the air and swallow them. I’m terrified that Rita is going to hate me or feel tainted by our friendship and never speak to me again.

She pulls back, putting her hands on my shoulders, and stares at me wide-eyed.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she breathes.

“Well shit, that explains a lot. I was all, why are these two so horrible to each other? They’re clearly in love.

But that, yeah, that just about covers the whole kit ‘n’ caboodle, doesn’t it? ”

“Woah,” I say, startled. “You think I’m in love with Rhue?”

“You think you aren’t?”

We stare at each other for a moment, then she waves her hand dismissively. “I get it, complicated emotions, no time to process. What are you going to do?”

“I need to go home,” I tell her as I find my jacket and shoes. “I need to warn my dad and help him figure a way out of this.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Rhue’s still there, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I think so.”

“Are you going to tell him what his dad’s doing?”

I hesitate with one sock half-on. “I don’t know. I don’t think I should—what if he knows already, and doesn’t care? What if he really is still pissed at me even though he knows what really happened—maybe he thinks I deserve it?”

“Has he said he does?”

I shake my head. “We haven’t really talked since he found out.

I mean—there was a lot of other stuff going on, then when Monday rolled around we just—never sought each other out.

Not until yesterday, anyway.” I finish putting my socks and shoes on, frowning at the floor. “I talk to his sister, though. Maybe—”

“Text her,” Rita says, pushing my phone at me. “Right now, text her. Tell her what’s up. Oh! No. She’s a minor, right? Ok, call her. You don’t want scary daddy reading the messages.”

I give Rita an assessing look as I swipe through my phone to Laura’s number. “You’re kind of good at this.”

“I’ve picked up skills,” Rita says, flashing me a mysterious grin and a wink.

The phone rings twice before Laura picks up. “Laura Echeveria, Junior Campaign Manager for Julian Echeveria, you’re on speaker how can I help you?”

Fuck. “Hello there, Ms. Echeveria!” I pinch my nose, disguising my voice with a horrible old lady impersonation. “Could you tell me where I could pick up bumper stickers? I’m a huge supporter.”

“Sure thing! Do you have a pen?”

She gives me the address of the campaign office and I pretend to write it down. “Thank you,” I tell her. “Keep up the good work!” I hang up quickly and bury my face in the blankets, groaning.

“So—that went well,” Rita says. “Scary daddy was listening in, huh?”

“Yup.” My voice is muffled by the blankets.

“He must be expecting you to reach out to her. Rhue too, probably—but Rhue wouldn’t just sit around the campaign office letting his dad babysit him, would he?”

“No—but…” I don’t know how to get her to understand that I’m afraid Rhue is still on his dad’s side.

I know she likes him, I know they’re friends—in fact, he was invited to last night’s party, too.

If I’d actually gone to his place, we probably would have ditched studying and gone together.

There’s potential here for all of us to be good friends—and there’s potential for Rhue to turn out to be as big a douchebag as his father.

“Uhmuhguh!” The muffled groan comes from the pile of blankets on the floor.

Lindsey claws her way out of it, flinging herself up to glare at me through the crimped tangle of her hair.

“Girl. Call him. He fucking loves you. He thought you were having an affair with his dad? And the whole time we hung out with him, all he could talk about was you. I mean yeah, he was pissed at first—but after a couple drinks? Man could write freaking sonnets.”

“You heard all that?” I ask, alarmed.

“How much did you hear?” Rita demands at the same time.

“Oh stuff it, both of you. You know my secret, I know yours. All’s fair in love and college or whatever. But for real—Rita, you remember after the hazing when we all had pizza?”

“Yup,” Rita says with a grin. “You bailed that day, Maddie, but yeah. He was sober and going on and on about fresh starts and forgiveness and stuff. I don’t know if he loves you—”

“Ugh!” Lindsey groans, frustrated.

“—but he likes you a whole lot,” Rita finishes. “He really does. I think you should give him a chance to show you that. Call him. Tell him what’s happening. See how he responds—I think you’ll be surprised.”