Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3) (16 page)

“I cheated. We broke up. The end.” Keith’s eyes glow like fireflies in this dim light.

“That about sums it up.”

“Something must have happened to make you upload those videos.” She looks to Keith with innocence.

The truth bubbles up the back of my throat like acid, about as controllable as vomit. Here we go.

“I didn’t upload those videos,” Keith says it low while staring me down as if wanting me, of all people, to admit it.

“I don’t know how we ever got here.” A mean wind blows past us, and we all huddle a little bit closer. “But I did do something I’m not proud to admit.” The whites of their eyes glint back at me as if the three of them are expecting some spectacular confession. “I lied about the videos. I told Caleb I didn’t know you were filming. The truth is, I was ashamed. It’s not something I ever aspired to do. And since I’m in a confessing mood, I really cared about you Keith, but there’s something you should know. Those summer breakups you seemed to plan regularly? Caleb was there for me. This isn’t anything new. Caleb has had my heart from the beginning.”

Keith blows out a breath. I can tell he’s trying to process this all—pissed by my last admission.

“I’m sorry.” I shudder. “I just want to get it all out in the open. No more secrets. I’m done with it.” I take a deep breath, fighting the tears begging to come to the pity party. No, thank you. This is about being a stronger person not a blubbering nitwit. “There’s something else I’d like to share. Keith already knows this but—you see, years ago, I lied for my mom. She and my dad were getting a divorce, and she basically gave me a script. It read like the white trash diaries. She made me tell the court all kinds of terrible things—that he abused us—that he brought women over into my mother’s bed in broad daylight.” My lips quiver, and I take a moment to quell the tears. “She made me tell the court that I saw him doing a line of coke in our bathroom with some whore. It was a load of bullcrap, but my mother was so hurt. She was so terribly hurt that my father would bang this twenty-year-old girl who was interning for him. She was desperate to get him back. Anyway, my sister didn’t side with her—I did.”

“That’s pretty screwed up.” Brylee clutches her chest like she might be sick.

Keith takes a step in. “I should have made you go to therapy the first time you said anything. You went through a lot, and you kept it all from the world. You were cold and distant, and it’s because this has been eating away at you ever since.”

“Sorry. I liked my walls.” I strangle Caleb with my grip as if confessing to him in code. “You think we should get going?”

Caleb nods. His eyes glow a brilliant blue even in the dull moonlight—the color of protection, the color of love. We head back toward the party, content with our little show.

“Hey, Ken?” Keith comes over just as Caleb and I head for the cabin. “I just want to say I forgive you. No hard feelings. Tonight wasn’t just an act. I didn’t mind hanging with you.” He pulls me into a solid embrace, and it feels like we’ve just shed a lead coat.

“I forgive you, too. No hard feelings.”

Caleb and I head into the house and quietly make our way to my bedroom. I’ve never had Keith spend the night here, and for that I’m grateful. I open the door, and just as I’m about to switch on the lights, he glides his hand over it.

“We won’t be needing that.”

“Oh? Are you about to cross-examine me?”

“I’m about to investigate an entire body of evidence.” He runs his finger over my hips. “A beautiful body that belongs to a beautiful soul. I’m proud of you, Kennedy. You did good out there.”

A wicked laugh gurgles from me, low and quiet. “I’m about to do even better in here.” I pull him in by the collar. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of having you in my bed? Of course, there’s not much room. I’ll have to be on top all night.”

A dark growl comes from his chest. “Sounds like the perfect bed to me.”

I stiffen a moment as Brylee’s words come back to me. “Can I ask you something point blank?” It’s going to be awkward, but I’m done with skirting any big issues only to find out later down the line that there was more than a shred of truth to it.

“Shoot.”

“Are you—how do I put this?” I steady my eyes over his. The eyes are the only ones I really trust. The mouth, I’ve found, is simply a puppet of a wicked, wicked, brain. “Are you fucking Zoey?”

“What?” His head inches back, his face locked in horror. His eyes shout
hell no,
and I can tell it’s the truth. “Not now, not ever.”

“Just wanted to be clear. I didn’t think so, but someone mentioned they saw you two at the lake—that Zoey wasn’t dressed.” I wave the ludicrous idea away. “I trust you completely, Caleb. And if you ever did cheat on me, I think I really would lose my mind. Anyway, I’m sorry I had to drag you here.” I pepper the rough stubble on his cheek with kisses. “But I couldn’t stand another night without you.”

“I’m guessing your father appreciates the fact we’re not at my place.”

“He’ll be gone soon.” I dot kisses all along his jaw.

“Do you think you’ve restored your relationship?”

I bite down hard on my lip contemplating this. Now that I’m all about the truth it takes some time for the answers come.

“I think maybe, yeah. My mom was right. We all need a big sit down, but if we can put this behind us.” I shake my head. “Caleb, it’s strange, everything was such a nightmare in the beginning, and now I have you and my dad. Maybe my sister?” I give a little laugh. “It’s as if it’s too good to be true.”

“It’s true. Get used to it, Kennedy, because your life is about to get a whole lot better.” Caleb sits me on the bed. He performs a slow, methodical striptease in the shred of moonlight pouring through the window, and I devour every divine moment. Caleb is a god, a glowing being of alien perfection. It’s so hard to wrap my head around the fact everything is going so well. But Caleb is the most miraculous treasure, my heart’s deepest desire for so very long. Our lips smooth over every inch of one another’s bodies as Caleb buries his mouth over the most tender part of me, the most rock hard part of him thrusting down my throat. We go on like that for hours, our limbs twisted, our bodies knotted up in lust, me pulling his hair, him pulling mine. Those rock hard abs against my skin, his hot kisses warming my every inch. This is what I’ve dreamed of for so long on this very bed. And now my bedroom will never be the same.

And with Caleb in my life, neither will I.

We rouse lazily, well after eleven in the morning. Caleb admires my girly décor, my row of tiny ceramic Disney princesses, analyzes me by the books on my shelf, by the mountain of clothes building on the floor.

My phone bleats, and I flip it over. I glance at the screen, and my entire body goes numb with shock.

“What’s the matter?” he asks while fondling my soccer trophy from eighth grade.

“It’s a text from Brylee.” I can barely get the words out. I can barely breathe. “Keith is missing.”

T
he next few
days are lost in a whirlwind. Keith’s family isn’t so amused that the day their son’s phony obituary declared he passed away, he up and disappears. Kennedy is back to being the prime suspect, and her father and sister leave town with a shred of doubt hanging over their heads regarding her innocence once again. Then another bomb drops—this time right into my lap.

Zoey struts into my office with her sky high heels, her low cut dress with a hard V that shows off her cleavage straight to her belly. Which reminds me, I’ll have to instate a strict dress code, yesterday.

I take the envelope she hands me without glancing at all that flesh happening in front of me.

“It’s not postmarked.” I flip it over, still nothing.

“Really? That’s weird. It’s addressed to you. It was with the mail I picked up downstairs.”

I run my finger along the thin seam and pull out a CD.

Whenever an attorney receives a suspicious piece of mail that can somehow talk back to him, it’s never a good fucking sign.

I wait for Zoey to leave before putting it into my laptop and hitting play.

Here goes nothing.

The audio comes on—scratchy—nothing but static, so I turn it up all the way.

A female voice murmurs something. Then adds,
“I’m sorry. I just want to get it all out in the open. No more secrets. I’m done with it.”

“Shit.” I bow my head because I know where this is headed.

“There’s something else I’d like to share. Keith already knows this but—you see,
years ago, I lied for my mom. She and my dad were getting a divorce, and my mother gave me a script. It read like the white trash diaries. She made me tell the court all kinds of terrible things, that he abused us, that he brought women over into my mother’s bed in broad daylight. She made me tell the court that I saw him doing a line of coke in our bathroom with some whore. It was a load of bullcrap, but my mother was so hurt. She was so terribly hurt that my father would bang this twenty-year-old girl who was interning for him. She was desperate to get him back. My sister didn’t side with her—I did.”

Just like that it cuts out. What the hell? Why?

The memory comes back to me, fresh and alive. That’s the conversation we had at the lake. We thought we were alone with the exception of Keith and Brylee. All kinds of insane thoughts run through my head. Was Keith recording that? Brylee? God, was it Kennedy herself? She did all but accuse—
ask
me if I was having an affair with Zoey.

I speed out the door and startle Zoey into slamming her laptop shut.

“What?” She sits up wild-eyed.

“Did you tell Kennedy we’re sleeping together?”

“No.” She spins her chair to face me fully. “Why? Did she say something?”

I take off before I can answer. No matter what the hell happened—whoever the hell recorded that—I’m guessing it’s going to be used against Kennedy—against the entire Slade family.

By the time I hit Loveless, Kennedy’s SUV is already gone. I shoot her a quick text but no response.

My phone buzzes, but it’s not Kennedy’s name staring back at me, it’s Abel.

Listen asshole, next time why don’t you show up yourself. Sol let me know you sent your girlfriend to give him a little last minute comfort. And where the fuck are you anyway? Dad and I want to see your sorry ass at the courthouse Tuesday. We’re a family. It’s time to start acting like one.

“What the hell?” I put a call into Kennedy, and this time she answers.

“Hey, handsome! You like wild salmon or farmed? If your performance last night in bed is any indicator, I’m guessing wild, wild,
wild
. I think you even threw in some spawning action. Honestly, I think we should delay the kids by at least five years. What do you think of zucchini? Organic, of course. I’m not a sadist.”

“Kennedy, listen to me. Did you go see my brother?”

“What? See whose brother?” Her voice is cool, calm as if she were touching the produce, gauging whether or not it was ripe enough as we speak. And, as much as I’d love to know, I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me.

“Never mind. I need you to come home right away.”

“Did they find Keith?” Her voice is tight. Kennedy has been desperately upset at what his fate might be.

“No. I just—I need to see you. I miss you.” A pang of grief pinches through my gut. It’s true. I miss Kennedy. I miss the Kennedy of a few days ago who I would never have thought capable of something like this, not that I do now, but something is not adding up. Unless…. I glance around at the dark navy waters of the lake as if it held the very secrets I was so desperate for. Unless the girl posing as my girlfriend was young enough to pass for Kennedy, resembled Kennedy in some small way. Maybe she was hiding near the boathouse that night? Maybe, just maybe, one of Kennedy’s many friends has been anything but a friend—a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along. Somebody is out for Kennedy, and the profile they just built looks an awful lot like her.

“
W
hat do you mean
—what
girlfriend
of mine do I think I could have pissed off?” It’s clear that the only one getting pissed is Kennedy.

She drove straight to the cabin, abandoning the groceries in her cart to speed the hell over.

“I’m saying which of your friends, your sorority sisters, might have an ax to grind? This is someone confident enough to try and pass herself off as you to my brother. Granted he’s never seen you, but it sounds as if she was banking on that, too.” My stomach knots up at what he might have told her.
Fuckfuckfuck.
“I got this CD in the mail. No return address—hand delivered in fact—it’s a voice recording of our conversation down by the boathouse the other night. It’s you condemning yourself for what you did to your father.”

Her face bleaches out, anemic as snow. “Oh, God.” She staggers toward the couch. Her reaction looks genuine, and for this I’m relieved. I’m pretty sure I can get a court order to show us the video from the visit with Sol, but that might take weeks. “That’s what he meant.” She gives a breathy laugh as if she’s at the brink of delirium. “My father called and said to prepare for a shit storm. He said, do yourself a favor and don’t turn on the television—said it had to do with his career, not to worry—it wasn’t about Keith.”

Kennedy fumbles with the remote, and before we know it Peter Slade’s close up is seventy inches wide. The words
messy divorce
lingers at the bottom of the screen. The talking head is a bitter blonde who is known to slice and dice men on most occasions, but tonight she’s offering up the entire Slade family as an appetizer to the American people.

“Oh, hell.” Kennedy tosses the remote against the screen like a boomerang, and it bounces back in spite. She pulls me in by the shirt in one aggressive move until her nose is pressed against mine. “Who the hell is doing this to me?” Her fists pound into my chest. “And what the hell are they about to do to you?” Her voice breaks, her affect crumbles. “Tell me, Caleb.” Her hot breath mingles over mine. “How in the hell could this get any worse?”

K
ennedy doesn’t say
a word as I drive us down to the Morris Township County Correctional facility that houses my little brother. He has an approval for weekend visitors. The fact that today is Monday wouldn’t bode well for the average family member hoping for a quick sit-down with their incarcerated loved one, but I’m not your average family member—I’m an attorney who happens to be on his approved list of legal eagles, and I’ve signed Kennedy in as my aide.

Kennedy holds my hand with a strangled intensity as if we were meandering through a crowd of felons, but we’re far from it. It’s just the two of us, plus one very armed guard, walking down a long, steel hall. The echo of her heels only affirms this. We head over to the waiting area and are seated in an empty cafeteria while we wait for my brother to show. I haven’t seen Solomon in months. I’m angry about this, but he all but begged for me to stay away. I’m not entirely sure why I ever agreed. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, something incredibly wrong can seem incredibly right. It’s not until some serious time passed us both by—hard time for him—that the scales have fallen off and let me know what a shitty plan this was to begin with.

“Two days in a row, sweetheart?” He comes in from behind, his voice light and jovial. Typical Sol. I had the guard tell him it was just Kennedy.

We stand and turn around.

His features harden in an instant as he looks at her. “You changed your face.” He glances at me and smacks his lips. “And you brought a jackass along for the ride. I hope, for your sake, he gets good mileage.” He frowns before breaking out in a genuine grin. My grin.

We look alike. All three McCarthy brothers share the same dark hair, same shit-faced features. Not that we’re complaining. The girls never do. Sol was stealing Abel’s I.D. up until the day he turned twenty-one. I should have known then that leading a double life is something he’d strive to do. But I’m here to tell him the show is over. I’m not too interested in carrying on with this farce, sending him up the river on his own free will, and for what? His stupid pride? No thank you. Today I wash my hands of this, even though I realize the consequences will land my law degree in the incinerator. I’m fucked, Kennedy is fucked, Keith is probably very fucked, and Solomon, here, will walk away clean as a whistle. My mother always said he was what you would find at the end of a rainbow. Now I’m starting to believe it. I’m what you might find at the end of a bog. Muddied and covered in the slime of my own making. Disbarred, disowned by my old man, unable to save Kennedy, and, if that last part pans out to be true, I’ll be the first to fall on a blade. I thought something would become of me, and, instead, I’ve become of something.

“This is my girlfriend, Kennedy.” It feels very high school to use the term so casually when we haven’t quite used it in front of each other. It felt only slightly foreign coming from my lips. But it felt invasive as if I’ve shared something that should have been done in private first, where Kennedy could have giggled at the idea, and my mouth would have covered hers, assuring it was true. “The person you spoke to was an imposter. We need to know whatever you can tell us. Is there anything you remember about her? Her face? Her hair? Did she have any kind of accent?”

He slouches in his chair. His demeanor growing serious again as it damn well should. I’ve got his back—it’s the least he could do to have mine.

“Dude, what the hell is going on in your life?” He examines Kennedy like she’s a pariah.

“It’s complicated. Someone is after Kennedy, and, now, I’ve learned that someone came to see you claiming to be her. It’s disconcerting to say the least.”

His eyes widen. Solomon loses his gaze at some invisible horizon over my shoulder.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he shouts so loud the walls rattle, the guard runs in and subdues him.

And then I know. Solomon gave her exactly what she was looking for. Whoever this is, whatever she wants, she knows what consists of my darkest hour, what consists of his.

They haul him out like he’s a cold side of beef, a carcass hanging by a rope—and he might be.

“What did she look like?” I shout after him.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” He writhes in their arms. “She looked like that.” He points to Kennedy with his chin as they haul him away.

“Why is he so upset, Caleb?” Kennedy inhales a measured, even breath, struggling to keep calm. “This person—she knows something doesn’t she?” Kennedy pulls me in hard by the collar. “What exactly is your secret, Caleb?”

I close my eyes and pray this entire day away.

“It’s bad isn’t it?” Her voice dips just below a whisper.

“It’s bad.”

I
drop
Kennedy off at her house and head back down the mountain. Zoey called when we were five minutes from the lake and said another envelope came, same as the first. I didn’t want to worry Kennedy. She has enough to worry about without the added bonus of knowing there could be more fun waiting around the corner.

Solomon’s case has been televised. It’s not hitting the national circuit, he’s no OJ, but everyone in the lower region of the state is privy to the fact the trial is barreling toward its inevitable end. Whoever has this info doesn’t have long to act. That leaves me with the one option I’ve been weighing since the beginning—acting on it myself. Come tomorrow morning, I’m headed to court. It’s time to say my peace.

I plan on turning this rodeo on its ear. My brother never deserved to be behind bars. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if they put him away for something he didn’t do.

The building that houses Westfield and McCarthy comes up, glittering in salmons and golds as the sunset drips off its mirrored lens. I speed in and head up the elevator, my mind traveling a million miles an hour when my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Kennedy.

Zoey just told me you’re headed to the office. Said this might be big. I’ll be there in ten.

Note to self: Fire Zoey.

I’m not anxious to pull Kennedy into any more grief, and if there’s anything waiting for me in one of those envelopes, it’s more grief.

I race to my office, trip the lights and speed to my desk where a slim manila envelope sits patiently for me, pretty as a hand grenade. Mercilessly, I tear the seam and sure enough, there’s a bonus this time, a note on plain paper, written in flowery handwriting.

She’s lying to you. She paid me ten thousand cash to send you the first envelope and visit your brother. She has all the dirt on you that she needs. I’m washing my hands of this.

I flip the envelope upside down, and a CD tumbles out. Whoever this is desperately wants me to believe Kennedy is behind this. My stomach churns with doubt. As much as I want to believe Kennedy has nothing to do with it, something tells me not to underestimate her.

“Take two.” I pop in the CD and turn up the volume all the way. The room ignites with the crackle of static.

“I made the delivery and saw his brother.”
It’s a female voice. Unfamiliar, scratchy as hell.
“I wrote down all the details for you. There’s enough to nail his coffin shut.”