Page 80 of Anarchy Missing

Not really. I’m a Fruity Pops kind of girl. But I say, “Sure,” to be polite.

“We went to the SkyEye welcome party, I guess you’d call it. Back when I first came to town last winter. Well, I didn’t go with him. I was actually on duty. But Case found me, asked me to dance, and then proceeded to tell the most tragically romantic story about his one special night with the girl he took to the Debutante Ball years before.”

“He did?” I ask, accepting the bowl of cereal from Molly. She opens a kitchen drawer, pulls out two spoons, then slams it closed with her hip as she hands one to me. I take that too. We take turns pouring milk and then settle our elbows on the granite island, and begin to eat.

“God, Lulu,” Molly says, talking with her mouth full. “The picture he painted of that night that was so romantic…” She stops to shake her head. “It was like he memorized that night and the way he described it to me just… took me there. He swept me away as we waltzed. He even made me close my eyes as he told me about what everyone was wearing. The black tuxes and the white dresses. The family members sitting up in the private boxes, all looking down on you. It was so… detailed. For those few minutes he was talking, I was there.”

“Hmmm.” I sigh, softly, picturing it in my head. “It was amazing. He took my virginity afterward.”

Molly bursts out laughing, spitting her cereal across the soapstone countertop. “He never told me that part.”

I laugh too, a nice feeling flowing through my body.

“He’s going to be OK,” Molly says. But it’s not really a statement as much as a wish. “He needs to be OK or I will never forgive myself.”

I place a hand on her shoulder. “Whatever’s happening,” I say, “it’s not your fault.”

But when she looks at me, she has a long frown on her face and tears building in her eyes. “It might be my fault, Lulu. I did something to him that night they blew up Blue Corp. I cut him with…” She shakes her head.

“You cut him?” I ask, confused. “And I already know about Blue Corp. Case did tell me that because we have evidence. We have a video from a tall building. But just of the helicopter part.”

It occurs to me that I should’ve mentioned this to Thomas earlier. But I really forgot about it until this moment.

“Montgomery Senior was a bad, bad guy.” Molly is staring at something across the room. Or… maybe not something. Just seeing the past playing out in her mind. “He hurt me.”

“How?” I ask, squeezing her shoulder tighter.

“He did something to me to make me… angry and evil.”

“What?”

“And he gave me this… chain… thing. Like a rope, but not a rope. And it had those little poison barbs on it. I cut Case with it. I had it around his neck.” She looks at me, tears spilling down her face. “I was going to cut his head off with it but Thomas came and shot it. Snapped it, broke the tension. And then…” She shakes her head again, lets out a long exhale of breath. “And then it was over and Linc brought me here and I never wanted to think about that night again. But”—she looks at me with her tired eyes—“I know… I feel it inside me, Lulu. I’m the one who did this to Case.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Any of it. We just sit there in silence, eating our soggy healthy cereal until we’re done processing.

“We don’t have any extra rooms right now. We’re still finishing the upstairs of the house. And the room Thomas called the guest room is really the fantasy nursery Sheila made.”

“What?” I laugh, despite the seriousness of the circumstances.

“It’s a long story.” Molly rolls her eyes. “But we do have a media room down that way.” She points to another hallway, opposite the one where the bedrooms are located. “There’s a big sectional couch that you can sleep on. And a bathroom. Come on, I’ll show you. I need to get back to Lincoln and you need to sleep. Sheila will wake us if there’s any change in Case.”

I follow her down to the media room, which is quite impressive with cathedral ceilings, the biggest TV screen I’ve ever seen, and, yes, a comfortable-looking sectional couch.

“I’ll get you some clothes. We’re probably not the same size, but baggy clothes are better than dirty clothes.”

I agree and use the bathroom after she walks off. There’s a shower in here, and maybe, once I get a couple hours of rest, I will use it.

But not now.

Molly comes back with a stack of clothes, a blanket, and a pillow, telling me to use whatever I want, and then flicks a switch that controls blackout blinds.

The room goes dark and the morning light fades away.

“Thanks,” I say, wanting to say more. Something like… Case will be fine. Or, It’s not your fault.

But I have no idea what’s happening right now. And all of my condolences ring false.

She excuses herself, closing the media room door behind her, and I change into some pajama pants and a too-large t-shirt. I shake out the folded blanket, fluff the pillow, and then crawl in to my makeshift bed and try to forget everything that just happened over the last twenty-four hours.

Unwanted images of that city map in the ToyBox office invade my mind as I drift off. That ridiculous history lesson. Steve and his flickering light body. The drone footage of riots and anarchists. And the people. What will happen to the people of Cathedral City?

What a shitty way to start a love story.