Maybe I’m not so different from Zebulund.
All for nothing. Evil wins. And it always will because that’s the truth. Everybody knows the real Golden Rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. To think I was naïve enough to hope to fight that.
I curl up in a ball on my bed and sob until I pass out. When I wake the next morning I’m left with the sharp pains of regret and loss.
I check my phone hoping maybe I dreamed it all. But the Internet is on fire with rage. Some at Roe but mostly at me. Calling me a liar. A whore. I took advantage of our relationship. At some point, pictures were released of Roe and me. In one we’re embracing. In another kissing. Seeing it burns fresh pain through my insides. I miss him so much already. How am I supposed to go on now that I tasted happiness? It’s a cruel sort of injustice. At least before I could pretend that my revenge was enough to keep me warm at night.
What will I do now?
It’s time to make this right. Whatever there was between Roe and me, I’ve destroyed, but I can still help him. The bamboo fan spins slowly over my head as I discard plan after plan. Zebulund must have other weaknesses—I could start working for him and try to get him that way.
But I’m exhausted. Tired of scheming and working angles, trying to get information, trying to worm information out of people. I’m tired of living this life I never wanted. Some days it helps to know I’ve put criminals away or hurt them. But my main goal will never be reached.
Zebulund’s proven that he’s always a step ahead of me. No matter how I think I have him, I always lose. He always has something on me. For a dark moment, I contemplate my options of doing something drastic. He can’t use my body if my body is gone… But I can’t go down that path. I can’t throw away this talent or whatever it is because I’ve made mistakes.
What would it be like to work for him? I suspect there’ll be some sort of test. How many awful things will I do to prove myself worthy to him?
I shudder out a sigh.
There’s a knock on my door. I jolt up. Maybe Roe came back. Maybe he has a plan. A small part of me hates how quickly I’ve come to depend on him. How much I’ve built my little life around him. I run to the door and whip it open.
“Oh my God, your face!” Danny says with a shocked expression, with Russell mirroring it behind him.
My heart crashes to the floor with disappointment. I press my cheek and find the skin highly sensitive. I forgot about it to be honest. Everything else in my body hurts so bad that the slap pales in comparison. My insides are crushed.
“It’s nothing.”
There’s a crumpled tissue in his hand and Russell has a supportive arm around Danny’s shoulders. A new dread finds a crack to seep in.
“What’s happened?”
“Mrs. J. isn’t doing so good.” Russell steps forward. “We thought you may want to come see her.”
I slip into a pair of flip-flops and follow them across the lawn. Over the last few days, she’s been napping every time I’ve gone to check on her. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own world I would’ve noticed the pattern.
The three of us are silent as we hurry toward her room. I try not to run but my legs are lunging toward her. How can I always be so self-centered? One of the few people in my life who cares about me. I wasn’t here for her. I was at Roe’s house. I was wrapped in his arms, doing other things, when I should have been at her side. Easing her pain.
A nurse is next to the bed as I slip into her room. How long has she been here? She smiles at us.
“I’ll go take a break,” she says and steps out of the room.
The lights are low. The canopy bed is so large it makes Mrs. J. look like a porcelain doll among the pillows. Such a powerful presence in every room reduced to this. It kills me.
“Mrs. J.?” My voice cracks and I don’t think I can cry any more tears yet there they fall. I gently take her hand.
The guys ease to her other side. I’m grateful for their presence. It keeps me from falling to pieces completely. Every time I think I’ve hit my lowest low, something new reminds me that it can get worse. Much worse.
But this isn’t about me now.
She turns her head at the sound of my voice and smiles before her eyes open completely. Her eyes blink and sleepily take in my face. I have my bruised side in the shadows and covered by hair.
She shakily says, “You got laid.”
“Not quite.”
The boys try to stifle laughs.
“Well, you had an orgasm at least, I can tell. No point in lying.”
