"What are you doing here?" I asked. I'd also made a mental note that Hale called Anthony boss. If Anthony and Vicky were the closest, then that meant I trusted him the most in this place.
"Aside from chatting with you?" He grinned and then continued. "I'm putting on a show for all the rich assholes that like to get off," he replied. But I wasn't expecting that answer. His tone sounded almost bitter and definitely sarcastic. "It’s fun. If you get tired of being a glorified door greeter, let me know."
"You're a performer?" I asked in disbelief.
"I guess you could call it that," Anthony replied with a bashful chuckle while scooting away from me. Was he embarrassed?
"Is it something I can watch?" I asked playfully, mostly curious how he would react.
"Hasn’t anyone told you?" he answered my question with one of his own. "In our world, you can do whatever you want."
Once again, Anthony sounded bitter.
"I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I get the feeling this isn’t just a game for you," I whispered.
"Intuitive, how refreshing," he murmured before licking his top teeth. I waited for him to tell me what he meant by that, but an explanation never came. He looked around the car, staring at the leather upholstery in a way that made me wonder if he was avoiding my gaze. "We don't have much time. I actually wanted to help you with something," he said, changing the subject.
I took his lead. If he didn't want to talk about it, then I wouldn't force him to, though it did bring up a lot of questions for me. "Oh? With what?" I asked.
He quickly pulled out his large cell phone from his pocket and opened a video chat. I watched it ring for a moment, and then my best friend's face filled the screen. "Vicky?!" I squealed the moment my eyes landed on her. It thrilled me to see her. Anthony's tense shoulders dropped some, and he playfully tossed his phone at me so I could hold it—covet it. I was so thankful to see her safe and sound.
Vicky's face filled most of the screen, but I could see beams of the early morning sun kissing her tan skin. She wore a soft pajama set and had her hair pulled back into a bun. She blinked away her sleepy expression a few times before seemingly becoming aware of who she was on the phone with. I didn’t know exactly what time it was in Italy, but it was early.
"Are you fucking crazy?!" Vicky finally shrieked. "Anthony told me about Eden’s. Juliet, what are you thinking?"
My excitement over seeing my best friend dried up quicker than a drop of water on a hot summer's day. My mouth twisted into a frown. Anthony winced. The excuse I'd been telling myself all day poured from my lips. "Vicky, your brother tied me up in his basement and held a gun to my head. If I didn't kill him—"
"I'm not talking about that," she quickly interrupted. "You did what you had to do." Vicky sounded so nonchalant and dismissive, it made me uncomfortable. She was just like her brothers, unbothered by the death that surrounded them. Would I ever get used to this?
My eyes were filled with hot tears as a forbidden grief barreled through me. Shameful wasn't enough of a word to describe the feeling I had.
Hearing Vicky talk about my crime made it feel more real somehow. Her brothers were virtual strangers to me, but this was a girl who had seen me through every high and low of my life for the last three years. She knew some of the darkest parts of my soul. I wasn't sure if it was her acceptance of me that was bringing tears to my eyes, or my inability to accept myself.
I did what I had to do.
I did what I had to do.
I did what I had to do.
I did what I had to do.
I refused to die. I refused to abandon Grams and Vicky. I refused to be a missing persons case that went unsolved. I refused to be like my mother. A cold case.
"I can't believe you're going to work at Eden's Place. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Anthony leaned his forehead against the glass window, squeezing his eyes shut as if blocking out her voice.
"I know it's a sex club," I replied stiffly. Sometimes, Vicky treated me like I was naïve because our worlds were so different. My upbringing wasn’t any easier than hers, though. Just different.
"But you don't know the type of men who go there!" she exclaimed. Anthony cleared his throat. Did she not know that her own brother was the performer?
"I suppose I don't know a lot of things about your life, Vicky," I snapped unexpectedly. "I didn't know you had three brothers. I didn't know that you were moving to Italy. I didn't realize —"
Vicky cut me off. "That never bothered you before. I told you when we first became friends that you had to be separate from this. I didn't tell you any of this, because I wanted to keep you out of the loop. I desperately wanted to tell you everything that was going on in my life, but I knew the only way I could keep you safe was if I kept you out of this. I never wanted you to have to deal with this. It's a burden I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend. This world will change you. Nicholas is..." Her voice trailed off, as if she couldn't find the words to describe her evil brother.
"I get that," I began. "I just felt blindsided by it all. A heads-up that you were moving would have been nice. You know how much I struggle with abandonment and being kept out of the loop. You were just going to disappear on me. And then everything happened, and I had no way to reach out to you for guidance, so I made the best of my situation."
Vicky bit her lip and looked off to the left before glaring back at me. "What did he offer you?"
I flinched at her question. I wasn't sure if it was the intrusiveness of her words or the assuming way she stared me down. Of course she knew that Malice had offered me something. They were blood. She probably knew better than anyone how he operated, it was why she was so determined to keep me away from it all.
"Who?" I asked.
"You know who. What did Nicholas—Malice—offer you, Juliet?"
I turned my head and looked at Anthony, stalling. Maybe it was because William was always sitting across the booth from us, but I wasn't embarrassed or uncomfortable to be having this conversation in front of a silent bystander. I guess every talk Vicky and I ever had was in front of a deadly audience.
Anthony stared back at me, waiting for my response. This felt like a test, but I didn't know the right answer.
Actually, I did know the right answer.
Honesty. Honesty was always the right answer. A lie was too close to a secret for me to be comfortable not admitting why I was here.
"Malice got Grams set up with one of the best doctors in the city. I couldn't afford her regular medicine, let alone an experimental drug. I was working sixty-five hours a week at that diner, barely surviving. I need the money. I need Grams to be okay. I don't want her to suffer, Vicky."
"I've tried to help you! I got you information about that assisted living place," she argued.
"I couldn't afford it, Vicky. I’ve been struggling so fucking much. I don’t have time for a friend. I barely have time for school or my podcast. My hobbies include taking care of Grams, reading until I pass out, and visiting with you for forty-five minutes every Thursday night. I don't have a life. I don't have money. I walk both ways to work." I wasn't usually the type of person to complain about my situation. I didn't think that constantly getting down about things you couldn't change was helpful. But damn did it feel good to finally say what I'd been feeling ever since Grams got her diagnosis.