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I don’t like the way Ray is studying me. His irises move erratically over my face like he’s waiting for my mask to slip.
“Have you asked her why? Maybe she’s scared.”
“Why not come to me or you? Why go behind my back and speak to Eddie?” I place my glass down and prepare to make my next vital move. “It’s because she didn’t want me to know she’s been speaking to Caitlyn.”
I elude the fact that Caitlyn is, in fact, me. When the first message came through, I wasn’t surprised. Elliot filled her head with nonsense. My responses were timed according to the time in California. The short conversation seemed to reassure her enough because she never messaged again.
“How do you know about it?” he questions.
I embellish the truth when answering. “Caitlyn checks in every few months. When multiple fake accounts kept messaging her, she asked if I could help. It all traced back to Savannah.”
Ray remains silent. The clogs are turning, but he doesn’t give me an insight into his thoughts. He picks up his glass and swishes his drink. When he looks up, it isn’t at me but the empty room that carries our silence.
“You must miss Emery.”
A large gulp of whiskey is needed to force the lie through my mouth. “Very much.” I sigh. “But with the way Savannah has become, sometimes it feels as though she’s still here. That godforsaken room has become Savannah’s sanctuary. What can one person be doing all those hours alone?”
My friend opens his mouth and then closes it without saying anything. He doesn’t want to discuss Savannah because the conversation diverts back to Emery. “Did you ever find out where she spent her final few hours alive? It must be killing you.”
Instead of answering, I ask an alternative question. “Does it make a difference? It won’t bring her back. I’ve finally realised it doesn’t matter how much security you have; some things are out of our control. People get hurt in life.”
Ray’s eyes soften as he watches me. “Where did your hurt start?”
In a rare instance, I answer with honesty. “My mother’s infidelity. She broke my rose-tinted view of life, love, and marriage.”
“Why don’t you reach out to her? You have a daughter now. Make amends.”
I stare at the ground as I share the truth after fifteen years. “She’s dead.”
His breathing stops for a moment before his shoulders deflate. His eyes are drowning in surprise and sadness. “I’m so sorry, Zav. How long have you known?”
After holding the secret for many years, I want to tell him the truth. I want to tell him I knocked the life out of her, and I’m not sorry about it. When you betray those who love you, right and wrong don’t exist. The black and white merge to create a grey space. In the grey, anything is permissible, and lying has consequences.
“Since my dad died,” I lie. “I realised life was short, so I looked for her. But she’s dead. Emery never loved me and made it clear with her affairs, but I tried to make it work. My whole life, I’ve tried to hold onto those I love. My mother, father and Emery. After all these years, I’ve finally learnt that sometimes letting go is easier than holding on.” I stand up. “Call Elliot and tell him to take Savannah back. I’m officially letting her go.”
47
Savannah
“Whattookyousolong?” I snap as Huxley walks through the door. I lock the hotel door before turning around to face him. “Strip.”
He holds my arms in place. “We’re not doing this again. Keep your clothes on,” he orders. From his tone of voice, I know Xavier won him over with whatever bullshit he fed him.
“Did you find him?”
He tosses the folder onto the bed. “See for yourself.”
I scramble to snatch the brown file as though the contents may disappear at any given moment. The few pieces of paper show flight details and bank transactions. The last is a CCTV snapshot of Elliot walking in a mall. I bring the image closer to analyse it. His face is turned away from the camera, and his rose neck tattoo is barely visible. His hair is a little lighter, and his shoulders are broader.
“This isn’t Elliot,” I declare.
It’s not possible because Elliot isdead.
Huxley sighs. “Yes, it is. You can tell from the tattoo.”
I throw the papers at him. “This is someone who has a similar build and tattoo as him. That is not Elliot!”
“Lower your fucking voice Savannah,” he shouts louder than me. “No more chasing your tail.”
