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QUINTON
Although I don’t particularly like the circumstances, I didn’t mind having my family here for a visit. I love spending time with my mom and my sister, though there is still a big strain between my father and me, which is part of the reason I’m glad they left. The other part is that I haven’t been able to talk to Aspen yet. I have no idea exactly what I’m going to say, but I need to see her.
Exiting my room, I slip into the sneakers I left at the door. My hand is already wrapped around the metal doorknob when Ren appears behind me.
“Before you go, we need to talk. Aspen is playing you, Quinton.”
“This again? Why are you beating a dead horse?”
“I already told you, I’m just trying to protect you. She has you wrapped around her little finger, and you don’t even realize it. Maybe it’s better if I just show you.” Ren pulls out his phone and starts typing something into the screen.
Annoyed, I let go of the doorknob and walk back into our apartment. I’m not sure what he could show me that would prove his point, but he has my interest piqued now.
“Aspen didn’t show up to the trial herself, but evidence that she provided was used against your father,” he explains and presses a button on his phone.
Aspen’s father’s voice comes from the speaker.
“Xander, it’s good to see you, old friend.”
“Clyde, it’s been a few years. You remember my son, Quinton,”my father announces, and I slowly recognize the conversation from one of the fundraisers we attended together.
“Of course, yes. I brought my daughter as well. Aspen, say hello to my friend, Xander.”
As I am listening, I recall seeing Aspen for the first time. We’re both still young. I remember how small she was then, so tiny I had almost missed her standing behind her father until she stepped around. Did she really use her size and innocence against us?
“Hi…”Aspen’s voice is the last thing playing before Ren turns off the recording and tucks his phone back into his pants.
“She was wearing a wire at the fundraiser. Actually, not just that fundraiser. Every time she was out with her father, she wore one. I guess they thought no one would pay attention to her as much as her father, and unfortunately, they were right. She caught a lot of conversations on tape she shouldn’t have.”
I listen to Ren’s words, and though I understand what he is saying, I can’t digest them right away. I expect to be angry, but before the anger can reach me, confusion and apprehension are center stage. In the past, I always thought the worst about Aspen. Every time, I blamed her for everything right away, never giving her the benefit of the doubt.
Even if she wore a wire, her father probably made her do it. Also, this was a year ago, before we knew each other well. A lot of things have happened since then. So, before I let the anger and betrayal seep in, I need to get her side of the story. As long as she is honest with me, I will forgive her. I can see past this.
“I’ll be back in a little while,” I say to Ren, who is looking at me like he is trying to read me but comes up empty.
Holding my feelings at bay for now, I make my way through the dorms to the other side of this level. Ren’s already returned Aspen’s keycard to me, which I now pull from my pocket to unlock her door. She scrambles off her bed on one leg, dropping a book on the floor.
“Quinton, you just scared the shit out of me,” she admits, catching her breath. She sits back down on the bed and pulls her leg that’s in the cast up to the mattress.
I close the door behind me while taking a deep, calming breath. I’m trying not to expect the worst, but there is so much between us that is in the dark. Turning my full attention to Aspen, I pin her with a glare. She immediately stiffens, picking up on my mood.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me. I mean it, Aspen. Do not lie to me. If you tell me the truth, I won’t be as mad,” I warn.
Like the predator I am, I stalk toward her until she scoots back on the mattress, trying to put some distance between us.
“Okaaay,” she draws out the and nods carefully. “What’s the question?”
I stop at the edge of her bed. Looking down at her, I remain standing, looming over her like a shadow.
“Did you, at any point, wear a wire?”
“A wire?” She gives me a puzzled look. “I have no idea what you are talking about. When would I have worn a wire, and why?”
The anger I have been holding captive slowly emerges. “I’m talking about the fundraisers and parties your father used to drag you to. Did you wear a wire at one of those? Did you listen to people and spy on them so your father could use those conversations against my family?” I emphasizemy familybecause I need her to know that her actions affected my whole family, including me, and that I won’t tolerate it. She might not have known that at the time, but she should know now.
“Quinton, I promise you, I’ve never worn a wire in my life.”
“Wrong answer,” I grit through my clenched teeth and get on the bed with her.
