“This is how the night ends. Jack warned you, Cooper. We’re too far into this to fuck it up now.” He stops at the stairs that lead to my room. “You’re not going to see her tonight. You give her the gift tomorrow.” He looks over his shoulder. “I can’t stay here. My father is in the front room.”
“Where are you going tonight?”
“The inn. I’ll be fine. Valentina is gonna come by later and hang out with me.”
“I can come.”
He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. “Cooper, wake up. What did I just say? We’re practically there, dude. Just. Fucking. Chill.”
I sigh. “Fine. But I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”
“No,” Ax says. “You’re not. You’re not ever coming back to the inn. Stay the fuck away. I got this. I promise.”
He stares into my eyes until I nod. Then he looks over his shoulder, claps me on the back, and says, “Merry fucking Christmas.”
Then he weaves his way back through the house and disappears.
I go upstairs, flick on my light, and find my father sitting in a chair on the far side of the living room area.
“What the fuck did I do now?”
He gets to his feet and smiles. “Don’t worry. I’m not staying. I just wanted to check and see how things went.”
“How things… went?”
“Did they vote?”
“I think they’re doing that now. Why?”
“Did she cry?”
“Cry? Ummm, I guess you could call it crying. Yeah. She cried.”
He nods. Breathes out. “OK.” And then he heads for the door.
“OK? That’s it?”
He stops at the door, then looks over his shoulder at me. “Merry Christmas, Cooper.” And then he walks through and disappears down the stairs.
Did she cry? What kind of question is that?
This whole fucking place is sick. I don’t want to do it anymore.
I flip the lights off, walk over to the window, and look down. Cadee’s room is right below mine, so I search the snow for traces of light. Something that will let me know if she’s in bed or still awake and talking to Leela.
It looks dark.
I creep down the stairs and stalk the hallway like a criminal until I catch Leela’s voice in the front rooms. Laughing and joking like she didn’t just send an eighteen-year-old-girl into a lion’s den of kings to be eaten like lunch.
Then I head down Cadee’s hallway, look over my shoulder once, and then enter her room without knocking.
It’s dark. Very dark.
“Cadee?” Covers rustle and I feel around until I find a small table lamp. I flick it on. She’s in bed with her back to me. “Cadee? Are you awake?”
She does not answer me. But I know she’s not asleep. Her body is too tense.
I sit down on the bed and that one night last summer comes back to me. That night she got high with Mona. She was happy, and joking, and numb. And then she pulled me closer to her. Hooked her finger around my belt loop and asked me to get closer. To hold her until she fell asleep.
That’s all I want. That’s it. Just… calm moments with this girl. I’m tired of thinking about this place and none of what’s happening here is worth any amount of money.
I am such a hypocrite because I betrayed her the very next day when I sold her in the auction.
To Dante.
Fucking Dante. Where the hell is that asshole? I have tried to make contact with him so many times and he just ignores me.
“What do you want, Cooper?”
Shit, I almost forgot what I was doing. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you’re OK.”
She turns and shows me her face. I don’t know what I was expecting. Red eyes, maybe. Sniffly nose. But she is not crying. Her eyes are not red and her nose is not running.
I let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I really am. I have a real present for you, ya know. I didn’t choose—” I stop talking because I look down at the collar and see that the reason she’s probably not crying is because it’s so tight it’s pinching her skin. It might choke her if she had to take in too much air at once, which means… she can’t cry. Even if she wanted to.
“Oh, fuck. Cadee.” I reach for the collar but she puts up her hand and blocks me.
“Don’t touch me.”
“What?”
“Do not. Touch me.”
“Cadee. Come on.” I lie down next to her. Try to pull her close. “I’ll hold you, OK? Until you go to sleep. I’m so fucking sorry.” I lean in and kiss her throat just below the collar.
She hisses in a breath, then she says, “Sausage.”
I think I stop breathing. “What?”
“I said… sausage.”
“Cadee.”
“Sausage.” She says it again. Firmer. Louder. “Sausage!” She yells it. “Sausage! Sausage! Sausage!”
I jump out of her bed and cross the room. “Jesus Christ. Shut the fuck up! I’m not supposed to be here.”
“That’s right, Cooper. You’re not supposed to be here. So get the fuck out of my room.”
Footsteps in the hallway. Coming quickly. I have no other choice, so I leave through the patio door. I barely get the door closed behind me before the other door opens and I hear Leela’s voice asking Cadee if she’s OK.
I turn towards the back of the house and then notice one of Mona’s meatheads coming towards me wearing… “Dude, what the fuck are you wearing?”
It’s a Christmas sweater. Yellow, with a classic red pick-up truck in yarn relief on the front. I think it actually has sequins.
The meatheads don’t talk. At least not to me. I’ve never seen them talk to Mona, either. But I do recall a few of them talking to some of the kids in rush last summer.
This one does not talk. He hands me a card.
I take it. “What’s this?”
Meathead says nothing.
So I open it. It says, I have a present for you. Please join me for a drink. Mona.
I look back up at the meathead. “My girlfriend just safeworded me when I tried to hold her.” I say this like this man is supposed to have an opinion on the matter.
He shrugs. Because of course, he doesn’t. And then turns around and leads the way.
I have never been inside Mona’s house at Christmas. In fact, up until last summer, I had never been in Mona’s house. Strange, really, since she’s been my neighbor her whole life. But it’s very tastefully decorated. Like those special Christmas shows they have at the White House.
When I walk into the great room, I see all her other bodyguards are also wearing the ugly Christmas sweater. They are lined up on the far side of the room, each of them holding a silver tray. Several of the trays hold elaborately decorated Christmas cookies, but some have a meat and cheese spread, and then others just have an assortment of booze.
“What the fuck is happening here?”
Mona turns. She’s very Jackie O these days. Long gone are her edgy outfits and just-fucked hair. Now she’s all tailored and sleek. Tonight’s dress is tight and red, but somehow not slutty. “What’s going on with what?”
I point at the bodyguards. “The fugly sweaters.”