Page 24

Eleven Years Ago, August

Tyson paced along the boardwalk beside the marshy waterway, running his fingers through his hair. “Can you believe this motherfucker is still demanding money from us, even after we saved his life?”

I leaned against a palm tree, taking refuge in its small slice of shade. The day was sweltering, but I hadn’t wanted to talk about Ian in my mom’s house and couldn’t leave her long enough to go to Tyson’s, so we’d met at a park down the street.

My mom had done so well after the first treatment, but the second one hadn’t been as smooth.

One of the side effects she was now suffering from was vertigo, which meant she needed me by her side to make sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself.

I didn’t feel comfortable leaving her for more than fifteen minutes, which meant I hadn’t seen much of Tyson since we’d last returned from Naples.

“We would have been better off letting him go up in flames,” he groused.

“Not funny,” I said, though I was beginning to worry he was right. It had been three weeks since the fire, and instead of gratitude for risking our lives on Ian’s account, we’d only received increasingly steeper demands from him for money.

“I’m not joking. And now he has the balls to demand we cover his and Andie’s hospital bills. He’s hired a lawyer to claim the fire was our fault for not maintaining the trailer properly, when he’s the one that left a fucking burner on and passed out!”

“Are your parents coming back to deal with it?” I asked.

“What, and leave Lake Como?” He snorted. “They don’t trust me, but they’ve hired their own attorney and have insisted Cody come babysit me, like any of this is my fault.”

I refrained from pointing out that he’d failed to tell his parents Ian was dealing drugs out of the trailer on their property, not to mention making all kinds of modifications with his inventions.

He kicked a pebble into the water. “I can’t wait to go back to school next month.”

I looked up at the milky blue sky, wishing that that didn’t smart as much as it did.

“We’re going to have to come up with some kind of deal with Ian,” I said.

“The way things are going, I don’t know whether they’ll let my mom do another treatment after this, and we can’t just leave the program running indefinitely. ”

Despite my protests, Tyson was skimming off the proceeds as well now, with the reasoning that if Ian was profiting, so would he.

“Shoulda let him burn,” he muttered again.

I checked my watch. “I have to get back. You wanna come over for dinner? Maybe stay the night?”

He grabbed my hips and pulled me in for a kiss. “I wish I could, but I told Cody I’d grab a bite with him after I drop off this money to Ian.”

“Where’s Ian staying now?” I asked.

“In a shitty apartment about ten minutes east of here.”

“Do you know how Andie’s doing?” I asked.

“I’m not exactly inquiring after his girlfriend’s health when I’m dropping off the money he’s blackmailing me for.”

I nodded, gripping the handlebars of my bike and releasing the kickstand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded, mounting his bike, and we rode off in opposite directions.

—

That night, I lay in my bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep for my anxiety over what to do about Ian. Finally at around midnight, I texted Cody:

We’ve got to figure out what to do about Ian. This can’t go on forever.

It was late, but I knew Cody was a night owl, and I figured if he’d already fallen asleep, his ringer would be off. The three little dots appeared immediately, and he replied:

100. But how are you texting me right now

I stared at the phone. What was he talking about? I held down the text and gave it the question mark.

He texted back the monkey covering its ears emoji, followed by:

I can hear you guys

I sat up, feeling like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water over my head, my thumbs flying over the keyboard:

R U fucking with me?

My stomach clenched as I hit Send. Had Tyson lied to me when he said that he and Cody were going to grab a bite tonight?

After all his tender words about how much he cared for me, his claims that he was collecting money from the SADEP to pay for my education, his promises about our future…

had he called some other girl to come over and satisfy his needs?

The three little dots appeared, and then disappeared. Then appeared again, and disappeared again.

Shit.

Finally the three dots appeared again, followed by the text that sent an ice pick through my heart:

I’m sorry.

I flipped on the bedside lamp and threw back the covers, blindly pulling on whatever clothes were on my floor. I grabbed my mom’s car keys from the top of my dresser, then reconsidered. Biking would cool me off. And if anything was going on, Tyson wouldn’t hear me pull up.

I crept down the hallway and peeked in on my mom, confirming she was sleeping soundly, then slipped out the back door and mounted my bike. The night air was cool against my skin as I hurtled down the dark streets, in and out of the yellow pools of light cast by the streetlamps, my heart racing.

Maybe Cody was wrong. Maybe I’d rush over there just to find Tyson watching porn. We’d laugh and I’d feel like an idiot, bike home with my tail between my legs.

All was quiet as I pulled into the driveway and leaned my bike against the side of the house.

I knew Cody was probably on the couch downstairs watching television, but if what I thought was going on was really happening, I didn’t want to put him in the position of being the one to let me in.

Instead, I slipped through the side gate and around the back of the house to the pool deck, grabbing the key to the laundry room door from beneath the potted plant where I’d insisted Tyson stash it after the last time I’d gotten locked out.

I fitted it into the lock and silently pushed the door open.

I could hear a laugh track on the television in the living room as I tiptoed through the kitchen toward the stairs. Cody turned, startled, his eyes widening when he saw me. I put a finger to my lips as he shook his head.

“Don’t go up there,” he mouthed.

I darted for the stairs before he could stop me, flying up the marble staircase and across the landing like the wind.

My nerves stood on end as I came to a stop in front of Tyson’s door and stood still, listening.

I didn’t have to strain my ears to hear the thunk of his headboard against the wall, the squeaking of the mattress coils interspersed with grunting I recognized and soft moans I didn’t.

With a deep breath, I placed my hand on the doorknob and shoved open the door. Candles burned on either side of the bed, illuminating the surprised face of one of the American flag bikini girls from the Fourth of July party, looking up at me from beneath Tyson. I gaped at them, engulfed by rage.

I’d known what I was getting into coming here, but seeing it was so much worse.

I could feel the wrath rising from my skin like steam as I spun on my heel and marched out of the room. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I found Cody standing at the edge of the living room, his jaw slack.

“I’m sorry,” he said, following me toward the door. “I feel like this is my fault.”

I stopped, turning to lay a hand on his arm. “Don’t. It’s not.”

“Stay out of this, Cody,” Tyson warned, sprinting down the stairs in his boxers. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

I swung open the front door and scurried out, their raised voices growing muddled as I grabbed my bike and pedaled off into the night. Fuck Tyson Dale. I hoped I’d never see him again.