Page 154 of The Comedown

He drops the tone, reverting back to his normal self.

“Warming up. Nobody cares where news comes from anymore, only how big a splash it’ll make. But should fingers start pointing my way, I’ve already got my story prepared along with photographic evidence, eyewitnesses, security footage from my house, the list goes on. What do you have?”

What do I have? I have my truth, but nothing to back it up. None that I could actually rely on. Any witnesses I found could be turned by Bodee. Any proof is long gone. All that remains intact from that night is…

“Jack’s face.”

“We perfected the cover-up story for that ages ago. Collette…step down.”

I whip my head back and forth, stuck in this mental institution Bodee insists on keeping me in. “No.”

“Why can’t you do as you’re instructed? Why do you always have to make everything so hard on yourself?”

“Because I’m not a fucking dog, Bodee. I don’t belong to you.”

“Everything about you belongs to me,” he spits, then pauses. “Including that abortion John failed to complete.”

A wave of nausea so strong bowls into me, almost knocking me over. Was that his main objective in siccing Jack on me? To try to terminate my pregnancy?

“So I’ll be taking him with me today.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyes fixed on the screen as he unlocks it.

“What do you mean you’re taking him? Holter? You’re not taking Holter. That was never discussed.”

“You can retrieve him in two weeks.”

Two weeks. The Mousais. As soon as Bodee steps on to the red carpet with Holter, people will be raving about Bodee Keys as a single father which will lead to talk about our relationship being the jumping point for my career. He’ll get the credit he thinks he deserves.

“No. I’ll let you walk into The Mousais with Holter by yourself, but you don’t get to take him today. We made an agreement. You agreed.”

If he tries to take Holter with Jack around…

“You agreed,” I repeat, feeling myself losing my grip. He’s never taken things to this level, not with Holter.

From the beginning, the same rules have been in place. In order for Bodee to have access to Holter, his manager had to be out of the picture. Jack had to be gone before Holter could even leave my supervision. And Mary had to accompany Holter to ensure he was properly cared for since Bodee is Bodee. Becoming a father didn’t change who he is fundamentally, and I’ll never trust him to be a decent human being, especially not at the risk of my child.

Bodee proved early on he was only interested in looking like a good father, not actually being one, so he’s only taken Holter on a handful of overnights in the past thirteen years, and only for one or two nights at a time. Nothing close to two weeks.

During any of the times Bodee did choose to flex his father muscles, even the shorter, hour-long visits, I’ve paid a pretty penny for the elaborate vacations Jack went on. Me. No one else. And we’re talking remote locations accessible only by boat or helicopter or seaplane, with exotic meals served around the clock.

Not only have I paid mentally, physically, emotionally, for what Bodee and Jack did, I’ve paid financially. I’ve paid to keep my son safe.

Still, he wants more.

“Are you really doing this because I got The Mousais without your help?” I say, trying to verbalize how insane this is.

He barely spares me a glance, still focused on his phone. “Are you conceding?”

“I’m not giving up anything. Not The Mousais, and certainly not Holter. You can go fuck your—”

“I could always take both from you,” he murmurs to himself like he’s seriously considering it.

Both? What does that mean?

He turns his phone around to show me a draft of an unsent email, and I balk. “What is this?”

“Tell me. Who’s it made out to?”

“I don’t know—”