Gold Shimmer (19 page)

Even though the room is warm, a chill of worry slides through me, prickling my skin. I pick up my pace and move as far away from Phillip as fast as I can.

I don’t see Beth in the main room, so I head straight for Ben. It’s ironic that he’s the only person I feel comfortable speaking with, but it’s the truth. The moment I reach his side, he clasps my shoulders, his gaze concerned. “Are you okay?”

I nod and rub my forehead. “My head is killing me. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go upstairs and lie down.”

“Do you want me to walk you up?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. You stay down here and be my proxy host.”

When he smiles at my comment, I can’t help but wonder why he’s chosen a marriage of convenience. “Why would you lock yourself in like this, Ben?”

He releases me to push a strand of hair back from my face. “Because you’re fun when you let yourself go.” Running his finger down the side of my face, he continues, “And because you need a buffer so you can continue to do so.”

Ben’s sentiment is so sweet, my eyes mist. Celeste’s life freaking sucks, but at least she’ll have Ben’s support. I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he’s in love with her. I hope she treats him with equal respect and kindness.

But just in case she doesn’t, he’ll at least hear it from me. Leaning close, I press a light kiss on his jaw and whisper in his ear, “Thank you for being a true knight.”

When I leave the main room, I’m annoyed that Marco appears to be following me.
Now
he’s going to do his job?
Screw that.
“You can stay down here,” I say curtly, waving him off.

He shakes his head. “I need to follow you up.”

“Since when?”

When he doesn’t answer, I clench my jaw and walk upstairs, my shadow trailing behind me.

The second I walk into Celeste’s bedroom, a true headache pounds behind my eyes. Locking the door, I immediately change out of the dress and heels. I can’t get her stuff off fast enough, but once I’m naked, I don’t have a choice, I have to choose something else to put on, so I dig through her closet past all the preppy stuff with patterns and bright colors until I find a lavender long-sleeved button down, a faded blue jean skirt and soft black leather ankle boots.

The outfit is as far from Celeste’s normal wardrobe as I can get and more like me. I feel so much better once I’m dressed.

I take off her bracelets and the pearl earrings. Then I remove her necklace, but when I start to set it down on her dresser the key catches my attention.

I hesitate one second before I turn toward her nightstand and take out the diary.

Sitting on her bed, I flip to the very beginning. At first Celeste’s entries are sparse.

September 7, 1998

I got a pony today! I guess I’d better learn how to ride.

July 4, 1999

Best 4
th
of July fireworks EVER! We went to the beach with the Hemmings. Jake won’t stop pulling my hair. Ugh!

November 29, 1999

The Hemmings came to our Thanksgiving dinner. Ben is quiet. Jake is such a boy!

April 3, 2002

Mom got very sick and had to go to the hospital last week. She’s home now but says she has lupus, which basically means she can get weak very easily. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

January 2003

School. Friends. Shopping. Boys! Yeah, I suck at keeping up with this.

November 12, 2003

Mom is spending more time in her room. Between schoolwork, cheering practice, and games I’m lucky if I see her once a week. I miss her. Lizzy has decided she wants to be called Beth. I’ll always think of her as Little Lizzy. (LL for short).

July 3, 2004

We’re supposed to spend 4
th
of July week with the Hemmings at their vacation home.

July 4 – 11, 2005

I stare at the blank page and wonder why she bothered to start an entry but never filled it in. When I turn the page, the next entry is dated a whole year later, but that’s when Celeste’s writing turns into long poetic prose, full of metaphors talking about safe hidden passages, masks of happy faces, green greed and black deception. It’s the kind of angst-y, self-introspection that seems far deeper than the Celeste I know…and yet only she can understand its meaning. Curious, I thumb forward through monthly entries now, and the poetic pattern continues. She only breaks it once, which is the entry I looked up earlier, September 23, 2006, where she wrote:
Does she realize that I helped her?

I flip to the current year and read through several months. Same angst-y, introspective writing. She seems so…alone. I keep reading, trying to understand.

When a yawn overtakes me, I lean back on her pillow and close my eyes. A couple minutes won’t hurt and might help my head. Just when I’m on the verge of falling asleep and in that zoned-out-almost-asleep state, I hear knocking and a man call Celeste’s name. Grunting, I ignore it and roll over.

I jerk awake and groggily glance at the clock in surprise. I’d slept for two hours. At least I’m that much closer to freedom. Sighing, I pick up Celeste’s diary wondering if she’d said anything about the switch we made. Just as I turn to the last page, a knock sounds on my door and Beth calls, “Celeste...did you get my text?” The doorknob turns but the lock holds. “Let me in.”

“Just a minute.” I grab the phone from my purse and take a picture of the last entry, then email it to myself to read later. For some reason I can’t fathom, I want to understand what prompted Celeste to allow the one person she knew despised her into the most intimate part of her life.

Once I put the diary back in its hiding spot, I scroll through the most recent text from Beth to catch up with what I missed. It’s the first time Celeste replied to someone else as herself. Or is it?

Out of curiosity, I look under the deleted texts to see what else I might’ve missed before she cleared it from the trash folder. The last thing I expect to see is a text conversation from a couple hours ago, right after I left the party. It’s between Celeste and someone she has listed in her phone only as
Deceiver
. The name alone raises my eyebrows, but the tone of the texts alarm me more.

C: I’m done letting you control me. I’m taking care of it.

Deceiver: Don’t threaten my legacy. Every part of you, inside and out, belongs to me.

C: Not any more.

Deceiver: We’ll discuss this later.

C: You can’t stop me.

A half hour passes between texts.

Deceiver: When did you leave? Where the fuck are you? You don’t want to find out how ugly I can be.

C: I’d rather die than let you touch me EVER again.

Deceiver: You’re very brave behind these texts. When I find you, you’ll change your tune.

C: I hate the person I became because of you, you sick perverted bastard!

“Celeste!” Beth rattles the door handle.

Frustrated with Beth’s impatience, I quickly copy the entire text conversation and email it to myself to read over again later, then delete the sent mail and the photo I’d taken from the trash folder. Celeste was probably too upset to realize she hadn’t permanently deleted the texts, but she might remember and fix her error before I have a chance to read the rest.
Who was Celeste talking to?
By the tone, it’s obviously a man. Of course my mind immediately flips through the men in her life: Her father, Marco, Phillip, Jake, Ben, and Calder.

“Celeste?”

“Just a sec,” I call out and flip to the beginning of the text conversation Celeste had with her sister, apparently between her texts with the mystery guy.

Beth: Party obligation is over. All guests are now gone. Before you become an old married woman, go out with me tonight. Come see me in an hour and a half.

C: Where are we going?

Beth: I’ll tell you once we get there. Come to my room the back way.

C: Okay

Right after that text is one from Celeste to me.

C: Beth wants you to go out with her. I know I told you to stay there, but you should go. You’ll still be with a Carver. Just enjoy getting out of the fishbowl.

As much as I want to ask her about the other text conversation I wasn’t supposed to see, I text Celeste back
.

Me: Text me when you get into town.

“Celeste!” Followed by a set of three knocks in a row.

Ugh
. I open my door and snort at Beth. “Impatient much. I was changing clothes.”

“You took long enough,” Beth says, breezing into my room. Once she shuts my door, she nods toward the bathroom and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Marco’s still out there. We’ll have to go this way. I don’t want to miss the beginning. It’s always the best part.”

I slip my phone, the ID and a bit of cash from Celeste’s wallet into my front pocket, then follow her into the bathroom. When she opens the linen closet door, I keep my face perfectly schooled as she pushes on the back wall. Once the panel slides out of the way, revealing a hidden crawl space between the walls, I realize this must be the “back way” mentioned in that text. Celeste didn’t mention this secret passageway existed. Then again, I’m sure she didn’t think I would have a need to use it.

I follow Beth along the narrow space she’s lighting up with her cell phone. “The beginning of what?” I ask as I swat at a cobweb brushing against my hair.

She glances my way right when a shiver rolls through me and chuckles. “Better put your tough face on, Celeste. This place isn’t for sissies.”

I narrow my gaze. “Where the heck are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

I should be wary of her cheeky grin, but the unknown actually sounded better than staying in this fishbowl.

M
y fingers are numb with my tight grip on the steering wheel. I roll my head from one shoulder to the other, trying to ease the tension vibrating inside me as I speed along the dark highway. Celeste is drowning in her obligations.
I
decide what she must and mustn’t do, and who she truly belongs to. I push on the gas pedal, picking up speed.

Car lights flash, nearly blinding me. As the vehicle zooms past, I look up and smile when the lights shine on her. She’s right in front of me, waiting for me to fully claim her.

I slam the pedal to the floor, pushing toward my goal. The day has finally come for her to accept who’s in charge.

This is your day of reckoning, Celeste.