Anthony, the bastard, laughs, sticks his hands in his pockets, and cocks his head. “If you do, make sure you’re successful this time because it will be your ass if you are not. I won’t stick my neck out for you again.”
“Fuck. You.” Anger courses through Ransom’s very being and his body vibrates where it stands.
His eyes slice to mine, holding as he slams his shoulder into his brother as he passes. He charges down the stairs and out the front door.
The hinges rattle and it shakes the vessels to my heart, threatening to tear them from the heavy beating organ and ending me right here, or at least that’s the way it feels.
But then I realize what he’s just said...
Again.
Subconsciously, my eyes fly along the floor, at the mess made during their spat. Pieces of the iridescent vase gleam around the room, the one that caught my attention the day Anthony brought me here, taunting me without my knowledge with what he knew was coming.
“Ah, yes, the pearls.” Anthony rounds where I stand, using the bottom of his shoe to send several rolling out of his path.
He pours himself a scotch, swirling it in his cup with a small, vile smile.
“See,” he begins. “Sienna loved the ocean. Our family knew this man who worked near the pier, owned this little shop. You go in, pick an oyster, and hope something worthy is inside. She would walk there every day after school, buy herself a bundle, come home and add whatever she found to that exact vase. I guess you could call it her... life’s work.” He grins and horror crosses my face.
“She never found one worth a damn,” he adds. “But she kept going and going, hoping. It’s in our blood, gambling.” He shakes his head. “All she wanted was one perfect pearl, but she never got it.”
My temples throb, and he looks to me.
“The yacht.”
“The yacht, the imperfection hidden under your makeup.” He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a small sip.
Ransom blew up the yacht, set it aflame, as he did my car, the Bonzi tree Cali told me about, Scott’s grapevines...
“He’s unstable, of course you would be too if you were the reason your sister was dead, but alive.”
A chill runs through me, and I pale, my eyes snapping to his.
He squints, and a low chuckle leaves him. “Oh, you didn’t know?” He walks closer, fully entertaining himself, and with every step he takes, my lungs shrivel a little more. “Why do you think he doesn’t drive?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t drink?”
“Stop.”
“It’s because he climbed behind the wheel with his precious baby sister in the passenger seat.”
My palm flattens on my stomach. “I said stop.”
“And when he took a corner, he took it wide. Flew right over the center median. Right into oncoming traffic.”
Oh my god, this is how it happened.
She wasn’t hit by a drunk driver; she was in the car with one.
But it wasn’t Ransom, I know this, because Ransom would never leave his sister after a moment like that, and he was with Amy just after it happened.
It was Anthony.
Anthony wrecked with his little sister in the car and found a way to get Ransom to take the blame.
No wonder Sienna doesn’t care or try to speak to him.
I’m sure she’s angry, but more than that, it must be painful to be the one ignored, to be the one someone else turned their back on as if you’re the one at fault.
Anthony claps his hands together, and I jump, snapping out of my thoughts.
He chuckles, shakes his head and begins to walk away, but the rev of an engine reaches our ears.
It grows loud, and then louder, and Anthony’s face falls in an instant.
He slams his glass down and runs across the room.
I spin, following, forced to jog to keep up.
He throws the double doors open and flies out onto the front balcony, grips the railing, and screams, “What the fuck are you doing?!”
I reach the edge, my hands flying to my mouth when I spot Beretta and Arsen at the end of the driveway, Ransom standing just outside the open door of my Camaro.
My toes bend in my heels, and I stop breathing.
Ransom’s hood is up, nothing but a slight glow coming from him, his eyes, the night a bit too bright to make them pop, but then behind us, the lights go out.
Anthony growls. “Don’t play your fucking games with me.”
Ransom’s foot slips inside the car, and again, he revs the engine.
“Ransom!” Anthony screams.
And then Ransom climbs behind the wheel.
He hits the gas to the floor, the wheels spinning and smoking, and then the house rattles as the convertible crashes through the glass garage.
Anthony jolts back, shouts, but my eyes remain locked on the group below.
Beretta and Arsen step forward, and through the smoke, Ransom appears.
He walks backward until he’s standing in the middle of the boys, all three staring in our direction.
My body aches, a sense of betrayal wrapping around my ribs, squeezing, but I hide it, slowly spinning on my heels.
“So much for not driving.” I wait until Anthony’s enraged eyes meet mine and add, “I wonder what else about him you’ve underestimated?”
I leave him standing there and go back to the tower he stuffed me in, his blood smeared on my arm, his brother’s cum spreading along my inner thighs.
I understand my mother more than ever now, why she continues to feel nothing. It’s because, at the end of the day, burying your weakness does nothing but manifest it, and then the universe gives you what you fear, so the answer is to feel nothing.
A cruel fate at its finest.
I wake up to the bedroom door opening and look over to find Monti standing there, Nana at her side.
Nana offers a small smile, and I nod, letting her know it’s fine.
Monti’s shoulders visibly relax, and she wrings her hands together. “Um, she offered to make us lattes...”
“You can make me a latte, Nana.” I stare at my sister, and she drops her eyes to the floor. “My sister prefers a cappuccino.”
Monti’s head darts up, and tears brim within them.
Nana nods, slowly backing from the room, and Monti steps in farther.
Her eyes roam the space, but she doesn’t comment.
“I came home from classes to find your bedroom pretty close to bare, and I thought for sure I lost my sister again.” She sits on the edge of my bed, her eyes moving to mine. “But then I realized I never really had her, because I’m a mega fuckup and she’s... perfection.”
“Fuck off, Monti.”
She nods. “You don’t see it, you never have and you hate the idea of perfection, but it’s just who you are. You are envy at its finest.”
“Yeah,” I mock myself. “Dozens of girls are sitting around wishing they could swap places with me.” I roll my eyes.
Monti sighs.
“I had to threaten Tanner to get the GPS coordinates to find you. Mom wouldn’t tell me shit.” Her eyes shift between mine. “Will you?”
“What’s there to tell? You failed to do what Mom asked of you, and here I am, picking up your slack.” Slowly dying inside.
Monti nods, thanking Nana when she slips in, passing off our drinks.