His eyes narrow and then he laughs, too. Edgy and loaded. He says, “Duffy.”
I say, “Definitely Duffy.”
“Fuck,” says Banks. “I’m finished. Let’s go get drunk.”
“Done,” I say. “Except—” And I hold my phone up to him and throw it into the back seat. “Nobody’s getting in my head tonight.”
“Fucking cheers to that,” says Banks. He throws his phone into his car and slams the door.
I slide back into the driver’s seat and Banks jumps in. We look out over the water—
at the sun sinking—
at the waves rolling in huge and unsettled—
at the whitecaps breaking against the jutting rocks below us.
A beautiful breathless night is coming in.
I start my father’s car and pull away. Banks glances back at the sun setting the water on fire. “El Matador,” he says, and he laughs again. Darker than before. “Know what it means?”
Of course I do. It’s why I chose it.
“No,” I tell him, and I step hard on the gas and pull into the stream of lights.
He grins. The sunset coats him in red. He says, “The killer.”
Tethered
The sky has scabbed over to almost black by the time Banks and I walk out to meet Mack on the boat. We stopped for liquor. Banks is already drinking it.
“Mack!” he yells, loud and exalting and thrusting the bottle high. The lights gleam kaleidoscope-crooked through the glass.
Mack stays where he is, watching us from the upper deck with both hands gripping the railing.
So I shout it, too. Grab Banks’s other hand and raise our fists into the air. “Mack! Get down here and let us on.”
He lets go of the railing and comes downstairs. He slides the gangway out, but then he crosses it and stands blocking our way.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go.”
“This is a bad idea,” he tells me.
“Fuck, man, we didn’t drive to every corner of this whole damn state for you to flake,” says Banks. “Let’s go.”
And I say, “Mack. Come on. You know we need this.”
He takes me in. Windblown hair and bright eyes shining. I left my blazer and my tie in the car, and I’m barefoot with my shirt half-unbuttoned and my necklace dancing in the lights. “Jade,” he says, “what if this is what they want?”
I laugh and say, “Who?”
He takes his phone out and juggles it back and forth. “The girls.”
“What girls?”
Banks chugs from the bottle. “Hell, no. Not tonight, Mack.”
And I say it again: “What girls?”
Mack looks at Banks. Banks wipes his mouth and says, “The three bitches in the masks.”
I come closer to Mack and take his hand. “Were they here?”
The boys share a glance. “It’s them,” says Mack. “They’re the ones texting us.”
“Right.”
He pulls his hand away from mine and shows me his phone. I already know what it says:
The more you win, the more you have to lose.
And then—
We know everything.
“Jade,” Mack whispers. “They could ruin us.”
“Dude. Chill,” Banks butts in, like he wasn’t angry and shaken an hour ago. Like he didn’t drive winding miles up the coast because a ghost in his phone told him to. “We got messages, too, okay? I had to ask Jade for a ride or I’d be next. She had to say yes or you’d be next.”
“Me.” Mack still clings to his phone. “But not you?”
I say, “Not me.”
The air rushes out of his lungs. “Good.”
“God, you make me sick,” says Banks with a laugh. “When’s the damn wedding?”
I ease the phone out of Mack’s hand. “We did what they said,” I tell him, steady. I spin and crouch down by the locker next to the slip. “What’s the code?”
He stammers and says, “Three-two-one-three.”
I press the numbers and the lock clicks free. I drop Mack’s phone into the locker and shut it. Decisive. In control.
“Let’s go,” I say again.
His eyes hover between Banks and me. “What if it’s a trap? What if—”
“We’re going,” Banks yells. He cuts past us across the gangway. “It’s a mutiny. You’re outvoted, captain.”
Mack looks out past the even rows of boats, glittering holiday-bright under the lights. “You’re sure this is right?”
“Better than right,” I say.
I cross the gangway. He brings it in after us and looks for answers in my eyes.
And I say, whispering close even though Banks is already shouting from the upper deck and too drunk to care what lover bullshit we’re dawdling with—
“The more you win, the more you have to lose.”
He nods, wordless.
I pull him away from the railing and hide us in a dark little alcove. “We’ve done too much to go back,” I say. “We have to finish what we started or we’ll lose everything.”
“We already have.” The shadows etch themselves dark on his face. For a split-thin second I hate that I’ve done this to him—that I’ve taken the gold that drew me close to him and tarnished it.
But he wouldn’t be mine if I hadn’t made him like this. He would still be nothing, knowing enough and hating them for it but never cutting them down.
I nestle him deeper into our dark. Run my hand through his hair and smooth it down. I say, “What’s done is done.”
The words sink in the way I want them to. He nods again: more certain this time. “I can’t sleep,” he says. “Not since Duncan.”
“You’ll sleep when it’s over.”
“When we’re done,” he says, all resolve now. All loyalty.
All mine.
He leads me out of the shadows and to the stairs. “Night is coming,” he says.
His eyes stray up to where Banks chatters loud. His hand squeezes mine tight.
He says, “Let’s go.”
Adrift
The sea is rough tonight.
Safe in the marina we barely felt the breeze, but as soon as Mack guides us out into the open water the wind picks up and tears sharp and stinging at our faces. We head fast for the last red of the sunset. The cresting waves are bigger every minute. When they hit we stumble, Banks and me, and fall against the railing and each other and the wide window to the captain’s room.
“Mack, get out here!” Banks shouts. He hands me the bottle and I drink—
—or he thinks I drink, anyway. I’ve hardly had a shot all night, but I’ve grabbed the bottle as often as he has. Laughed louder when he did. Stumbled more when he did.
“Mack!” Banks bellows again. He presses his face to the window. “Come on!”
Behind him, I shake my head. Barely, but enough.
“In a minute,” Mack yells.
“Fuck,” says Banks. “Where’s he taking us? Japan?” The bow hits hard against a wave and he staggers into me. His knee knocks into mine and he steadies himself with one hand on my arm. He says, too close, “Can’t believe Mack’s the one who ended up with you.”