Page 57

Madison

I’ve been jumpy since Wednesday. I did have lunch with Noelle and gave her a lot—no one else’s name, though I did tell her that Roxanne told me (which, in a way, she did) that he’d assaulted lots of other women.

Though we spoke quietly in a crowded bar in a strange neighborhood, I couldn’t help but feel exposed.

She asked me if I knew where to get information on the other women; I told her I did, but that I couldn’t tell her where to find it.

She asked me to gather whatever information I could and call her later.

Then I proceeded to spend three days jumping at shadows and imagining headlights tailing me.

At least Noelle was sympathetic. She told me she’d reach out to some of her contacts and try to get me some anonymous help for my anxiety if I wasn’t ready to go to therapy just yet.

She told me to watch out for a phone call from a Rochester number, but that she’d try to text me before they called to give me a head’s up.

With all of that going on, it was an easy “yes” when Lindsey and Rita invited me out on the town this fine Saturday evening, especially since Rhue has been in Rochester since yesterday afternoon helping my dad move his shop.

I would’ve expected this Saturday evening to start out at a bar and end up in a club, but my classmates decide we’re better off chilling over French cuisine at Robert’s, a C?te d'Azur imitation restaurant in downtown Ithaca. It’s a beautiful place with soft warm lights and neatly polished silverware, frilly porcelain and dainty linens—but with a sumptuous and overly luxurious coastal vibe.

The table settings speak of style and sophistication, but the wall art and the music bring the sea to our toes.

Not to mention the food, which is simply exquisite.

We’ve ordered different French specialties so that we can pick from each other’s plates.

The same technique will be used for dessert since the menu made it difficult to stick to a single choice.

I’m a coq-au-vin fan, while Lindsey is delicately trying to eat a Lyonnaise salad.

Rita went for the Quiche Lorraine, while Cameron decided to be a man’s French man and ordered a Beef Bourguignonne.

There’s a swirling dance of fragrances and buttery tastes making the rounds at our table while we wash it all down with a nice, crisp Chardonnay.

We’re only halfway through dinner but already giggly, and I’m loving every moment of this.

Even my introverted side is happy I went out.

“Do you know the three secret ingredients of French cuisine?” Cameron asks.

Lindsey raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re gonna do one of your dorky jokes, right?”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me.”

I can think of one other thing, but what happened at the cabin was never brought up.

Some things are best left unsaid—both Rhue and I agreed on that, despite Mackenzie’s occasional and irritatingly embarrassing jabs.

Cameron and Lindsey found love in the strangest of circumstances. Who is anyone to judge?

“Tell me,” Rita cuts in, playing the femme fatale out of a thirty’s movie, complete with a mock French accent. “If she won’t have your dorky jokes, Monsieur Cameron, I will. What are the three secret ingredients of French cuisine, huh?”

“Butter, butter, and butter,” Cameron replies, mimicking her comical attempt at sounding French. It makes me laugh. My jaw hurts. It’s far from the first time I’ve laughed tonight.

“It’s okay,” Rita tells Lindsey. “We can share him. He gives you the D and the L, and he gives me the bad jokes.”

“The D and the L?” Lindsey replies, slightly confused.

My cheeks burn as I realize how hilariously ingenue she actually is.

The better I get to know her, the more surprised I am that she got so close to Cameron in just one night out in the woods.

I can almost imagine Lindsey back in high school with a purity pledge and a chastity ring.

Guess she left both behind, but she’s happy either way.

“The D and the L, honey, are the two most important things that a man can give you,” Rita says, smiling gently. “The dick and the love, baby girl.”

“Oh.” Lindsey’s face turns red as she and Cameron exchange bashful glances.

“You two are just so cute,” I chuckle, trying to get back to my dinner.

Rita makes it kind of hard. She’s free-spirited and foul-mouthed after a couple of glasses.

Lindsey’s got the computer smarts and research skills, but Rita is the master debater.

College is definitely a different pot of stew, so to speak.

In high school, we were all trying on different personalities, struggling to find the one that fit best.

In college, we’re already settled on a particular style, which we then continue to hone and polish until we walk into adulthood foolishly thinking we’ve got ourselves figured out.

“So, Madison, where’s Rhue?” Cameron asks a few minutes later. “Thought he’d be joining us tonight, now that you’re all joined at the hip and everything.”

“Yeah, what gives?” Rita adds. She gives me a questioning look, but all I can offer in return is a shrug.

“He couldn’t make it. Some issues to take care of back home,” I say.

“Wait, he went back to Rochester again?” Cameron replies.

“I’ll let him tell you more when he gets back,” I say. I’m not sure if they know that Rhue is already investing in real estate and land-lordship, and I know they’d draw some awkward conclusions if they knew he was my dad’s new landlord. I’d rather leave that can of worms sealed for now.

Rita smiles devilishly, just about done with her meal.

“It’s okay, I’m more interested in how you two are faring. You’ve spent every day this week with him—every lunch, after school, sometimes breakfast—so? Have you done the deed yet, or are you still waiting for the magic sex fairy to give you permission?”

Lindsey chokes and I bury my face in my hands. Cameron’s laughing into his napkin, trying very hard to maintain some sort of composure.

“I’m not waiting for a magic sex fairy,” I mutter, my face burning. “I’m just waiting for the right time.”

Rita makes a disapproving noise. “The right time is whenever you want it, girl,” she says. “And we all know you want it.”

“Rita,” Lindsey says admonishingly. “Come on, you know it’s not that simple. Don’t listen to her, Maddie. You wait as long as you need to—as long as I’m a bridesmaid, I don’t care how long it takes.”

“A what?” I gasp. “I—we—that’s not even— Lindsey!”

Cameron chuckles. “These two won’t let you breathe until you and Rhue are married. I’m pretty sure Lindsey is already putting together a list of possible baby names.”

“You’re damn right I am!” Lindsey shoots back.

I almost choke on my wine. Laughter bursts from our table, loud and bright enough to get other patrons turning in their seats. Oh, this is so much fun. Stupid, awkward, delicious fun.

My phone rings and Rita blows raspberries at me. “Hey, no cellphones!” she scowls.

We did agree on a no-cellphone rule, but the Rochester area code is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

If Noelle’s contact can really help me get rid of the monstrous shadows and the feeling of being watched no matter where I go, I really need to talk to them.

I can’t function like this for much longer.

But what if it isn’t them? What if it’s Julian, calling to threaten me again?

What if he found out about my lunch with Noelle, and what I told her?

The last time I ignored Julian, he kicked my father out of his store.

If this is Julian, maybe I should just answer and see what he wants.

Even the thought feels like a terrible idea, but words are just words, aren’t they?

I’ve got my armor on and my walls up. No matter what Julian says, it won’t hurt.

Not as bad as all the things he’s physically done to me.

Plus, I need to know where’s he’s at in this game he’s playing.

And if I record the conversation, maybe Rhue can use some of his father’s words against him in whatever he’s plotting.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Excusing myself, I leave the table while fumbling with the fast menu to start the recorder on my phone. Finally, it’s on, and I swipe to answer the incoming call, then put it straight to speaker. I step outside the restaurant. “Hello?”

A cold blast hits me without mercy. The temperatures are rapidly dropping in the evening, and that’s no surprise, but still, I should’ve grabbed my scarf, at least. This cocktail dress is barely a layer of shimmering champagne satin.

“Hello?” I ask again when no voice comes through.

“I had to call, otherwise you would’ve never come out,” a man’s voice startles me. I spin on my heels to see him standing mere feet away.

He’s young, in his early twenties. Well dressed. A black suit, grey shirt, cream tie. An odd combination, but it suits his dark blond crewcut. Cold blue eyes stare me down and an air of hostility settles between us. Even though I don’t know him, he clearly knows me, and that makes me uneasy.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see my friends at our table, eating and talking and laughing. Rita glances at me occasionally, and I find an odd sense of comfort in knowing that they’re in there. I look at the man. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We’re meeting now,” he says and reaches out for a handshake. “I’m Jake.”

I don’t engage, choosing to take a step back, instead. “How’d you get my number?” I ask.