“How’s this since we’re past the bullshit part of our conversation? You give me half the three million you got from your divorce, and we won’t splash around your husband’s misdeeds with your twin publicly. Think of the scandal and embarrassment that would cause.” She emits a fake gasp.
I glare down at my phone, leaning against the counter when what I really want to do is hang up and block her number. “It would cause a lot of both. I already know this. But I’d rather eat shit from the press than give a penny to any of you.”
“I need this money, Elle,” she presses quickly, her voice taking on a desperate note. “Giancarlo will not be patient much longer. Or maybe I should just give him your address and settle the score that way. I doubt he’d care which one of us he breaks.”
I shake my head. “Who the fuck is Giancarlo?”
“My bookie and boss. Who do you think, you stupid bitch? We didn’t all have cheer scholarships and rich professional golfer husbands. Some of us had to do the best we could with what we had going.”
“My heart bleeds for you. Truly. You should call Hallmark and sing them your sad song. Maybe they’ll pay you for your bullshit by turning it into a movie.”
“I owe him big. It’s no fucking joke. David’s money was helping me pay that down. Now that’s all gone because of you, and you’re being cavalier with my life. He’ll kill me, Elle. Without even caring, he will.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline, unaware my sister was gambling again. I knew she had gotten herself in some trouble years ago—when I was at University of Miami she was betting on games—but as far as I knew, that had all been cleared up, and she had stopped. Actually, it was my parents who cleared it up for her, now that I think about it. Interesting.
“How much do you owe him?”
“Five hundred grand.”
I whistle through my teeth. Jesus.
“Now you see why we did what we had to do and why I need you to do this for me. Mom and dad helped me. Why can’t you?”
I can only shake my head as words fail me.
“Is that why they helped you with David? Because you already put them in the hole once?”
Silence and then a sigh.
“After he’s paid off, I’ll use the rest of the money to disappear somewhere, and you’ll never hear from me again. I promise. Mom and Dad can figure their own shit out. They still have ways of earning and an income from Dad’s pension. They were just mooching off David because they could. But I need this, Elle. I fucking need it, or he’ll kill me.”
So she keeps saying. But how on earth can I trust what she’s saying is true?
Then again, I think it is. I think she’s in some real deep shit with this guy because all her life people have bailed her out when she needed them to.
Lifting my glass to my lips, I polish off the rest of it before chucking the glass in the sink, listening as it shatters and glass sprays everywhere. My hands meet the counter as I stare dejectedly down at my phone.
What do I do now?
What the hell do I do now?
These people ruined my life. Care absolutely nothing for me. But she’s my sister. My twin. And suddenly I’m the difference between what… life and being murdered? I can’t do nothing and allow her to die. I’d never be able to live with myself.
But I don’t want to do this. Be another person to bail her out. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust that she won’t still try to sell what happened between David and me to the press. I also don’t believe that this guy will actually kill her.
“Send me his information, and I will speak with him directly about what you owe. If I determine you’re not trying to play me, I’ll pay him the money. In exchange, you’ll keep your mouth shut and leave me the hell alone. You get nothing from me, and we are done. That is my only offer. Take it or leave it. Because from where I’m sitting, a little press ain’t looking so bad compared to your life.”
“I can live with that.”
“If you betray me again…”
“I won’t. I promise you, I won’t. What about Mom and Dad?”
I laugh bitterly, head thrown back and everything, all psycho mode. “They’re not my problem. They’re yours. You can let them know that I’m done, and I never want to hear from them again. If they go to the press, I will not pay your debt. If any of you talk after it gets paid, I will tell the whole fucking world what you all did. I’ll cry sob stories on television, and if I can manage it, get you all arrested for extortion. Understand?”
“Yes. I’ll tell them.”
“Send me his info and lose my number.”
I disconnect the call and drop my head to my counter, letting it all out. I scream and pound my fists and rage. Does anything good ever last? Am I not deserving of a new life and a fresh start and some fucking happiness?
I shriek at the top of my lungs, howling out curses.
“I fucking hate all of you,” I bellow, pounding my fist again, but refusing to cry. I will not do it. Not over them. My parents knew the trouble Cat was in, but instead of coming to me and explaining the situation, they helped her set up my husband for blackmail.
Pushing off the counter, I storm out of the kitchen and up the stairs, ripping my clothes off as I go. I bypass my room and head straight for my shower, flip it on to scalding hot, and get right in. The water sears at me, and I collapse to the tile floor, gripping my soaked hair in my hands, my forehead pressing into my knees. I’m panting hard, nearly to the point of hyperventilating.
I will send this Giancarlo guy his money.
I will never speak to my parents or my sister again.
And with any hope, this fucked up situation and any remnants of my old life will be done with forever. Then I can move on. Put everything I have into this new life.
I blow out a shuddered breath. God, never have I needed anything more than I need that to be true.
25
A strange noise startles me out of my semi-conscious state. After I lost it in the shower for a bit, I dried myself off and climbed into bed. I have no idea how much time has passed. If I fell asleep or not. But… there’s that noise again.
What the hell is that?
It’s like a ping.
Sitting up, I comb my hands through my snarled hair and glance around my room. My light is on, and I squint, blinking a few times as I adjust to it. Everything looks fine. Nothing seems—
Ping.
It’s coming from the window, and I immediately leap out of bed, nearly smacking my hip into my nightstand as I do. I narrow my eyes, straining to see, and finally land on the dark form of someone standing outside, beneath my window in the grass. For a second, my heart thunders thinking it might be someone like David or even that Giancarlo character, but instinctively I know it’s not.
Unlocking the window, I fling it up and open, momentarily stunned by the blast of cold as it hits my… naked body. Awesome.
I hear a chuckle beneath me.
“I tried calling and texting you a dozen times and after being reduced to playing the role of a teenager, this is how you open the window?”
“What are you doing out there?” I hiss, crouching down so no one can see me even though my window isn’t facing the street.