Second Nature (6 page)

“Wait, so I peed in the
forest?” Lindsey pulled back a bit. “Wouldn't the pee be there with the blood?
Why wouldn't I pee in the pool house? Am I an animal?”

“Shhhh.” I waved a hand
at her as I rehashed details in my head. “No. That doesn't work anyway. What if
we say we saw Sage and Rita very drunk and
sloppy.
The
reason we were worried was that they were near the forest. So we followed
them.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “But Linds, you were with Vincent on the docks,
you're his alibi, so it has to be me and Sierra that found them. Sierra came
and found you with Vincent and asked you to help us with Sage and Rita.”

“Lain?” Sage said my name
as if she were confused about my ranting and contemplating.

I opened my eyes as the
story pieced together with the facts. “Sierra and I were dancing. We noticed
Sage and Rita were crazy drunk and walking up the hill. We took them to the
edge of the forest because, Sage, you felt like you were going to throw up and
didn't want anyone to see. You tripped and fell, hitting your face, right where
the scar on your lip is. Sierra went and got Linds from the docks and while I
was alone, struggling to get Sage up, Linds, you fell and cut your knee. Rachel
wasn't there yet, not that it matters—as far as anyone else knows we
never saw Rachel’s body and don't know where her body was put. If they don't
know about the blood, this will answer that question for them.”

“I can repeat it for them
in the car.” Vincent nodded and muttered, “That works. Let’s go.”

“Okay.” Lindsey pulled on
her terry-cloth dress and followed Vincent back into the house. She looked back
at me as she walked through the doors. I could tell she was completely unsure
of the story. I was too. I was stressed and feeling confused about the night.
My memories faded after we left Rachel. They had become fuzzy. Likely it was
from stress and shock.

Sierra nudged me. “Let’s
go to my house. I don't want to be here alone with Louisa. She gives me the
creeps.”

Rita gave us both a look.
“Or we can go to my house and start getting ready, since Sage was supposed to
help set up the party.”

“Sure.” Sierra’s voice
was strained, but she smiled. Rita hopped up, still somehow excited about the
party. “I’ll grab my stuff.” She darted into the pool house.

Sierra gave me a
side-glance and whispered, “What the hell do the maids do in her house? Why do
we have to set up?”

“Like I said, I don't
know that her family has the money everyone thinks they do.”

“I could loan her some.”
Sierra sighed and climbed out of the pool. “And maybe a bathing suit that
covers her ass.”

Rita’s thong bikini was
obviously bothering more than just me. It was weird to see Sierra slut shame
another girl, considering her stance on all things immoral. I would have
expected the two of them to be like old friends, but instead I was starting to
think she saw Rita as competition.

Rita’s slave camp

When we reached Rita’s house
on the beach, which was just like the rest of ours but a little farther down
the shore, we started to work on the party straight away.

She lived where the new
builds were going in as part of Phase Three. The mansions were a little smaller
but just as fancy. Although they had a little
less waterfront
,
they were on better beaches. The lots were narrower and longer, but the sand
was fine and white.

The houses next door on
either side weren’t finished yet, something I imagined Rita’s mother hated. My mother
would have hated it. She couldn't even stand the minor renovations going on at
our house. And they were pretty similar women.

I blew up another silver
balloon and tied it off. My manicure was getting a little long so tying the
stupid knot wasn't easy. I had let my nails grow out and my eyebrows were
getting unruly with all the plotting and planning and figuring out going on. I
needed a spa day, but it had been low on the totem pole of important things in
my life. Not that it mattered, my mom would notice any day and book me in.

“Jake just messaged me.
He’s bringing Andrew and they’re going to come and help too. Andrew didn't want
to leave earlier ‘cause he was with his mom, but he’s cool to come now.” Sierra
lifted her bright-blue eyes from her phone.

“Andrew?” Rita puzzled,
her gray eyes narrowing.

“The guy who lost his
dad,” Sierra added.

I wanted to remind her he
wasn't lost. He was murdered and dumped in my yard in a way I would never
forget. He was positioned exactly the same way Rachel had been, all broken and
twisted into a strange shape.

“I know. It’s
just—I mean—is he all right?” Rita cocked a dark eyebrow. “I mean,
he won’t be a buzzkill on the party, right?”

Sierra’s nose wrinkled.
“His dad just died. I think we can pretend to not notice any bad behavior on
his part.” It was smart and weird for Sierra to be the one saying it. It was
more of a Lindsey statement.

Rita’s olive skin flushed
with rosy color. “I just mean—he’s not going to make it—I
mean—I don't want it to be hard for him to be here and see everyone
having fun.” She smiled wide like she had us both fooled into thinking that was
what she had meant. Watching her stumble over her words made me rethink her
whole queen bee status. “I don't want him to be sad because everyone else is
having fun.”

Sierra clenched her jaw,
obviously fighting whatever she wanted to say.

“Of course not.” I smiled
and spoke softly, “But he’s been out of commission for a month. I’m sure he
wouldn't come if he didn't want to.”

“Unless Jake is dragging
him out of the house.”

“I guess.” I narrowed my
gaze on Sierra, trying to tell her to stop before she started getting annoyed
out loud.

“Okay.” Rita shrugged and
went back to putting out chairs around the pool. She moved them to create
conversation pits of four or six chairs in each spot. It was an act I’d only
ever seen done once by a girl our age. And that girl was gone, also lost.

Rita surrounded the
massive brick fireplace with many of the smaller patio chairs so that it made a
spot for a dozen people to sit around the fire.

I looked
away,
trying not to constantly compare her to Rachel, though
it was weird they were so alike, for girls who hardly knew one another.

Instead of thinking too
much, I moved the rectangular tables until they were alongside the pool house where
Rita had asked me to, and covered them with pale blue linens. It was so weird
we were doing the work and not the staff. But there was an obvious lack of man
and womanpower in their home. In my house several people moved in the shadows
at all times. The kitchen was bustling with cooks and cleaners. Everything was
always alive. This was eerily silent, similar to Lindsey’s house with just a
butler, a maid, and a cook.

“So has anyone heard from
Ashton?” Rita asked after a few minutes.

“No. My dad said the police
and feds are looking for him. Tom has a PI tracking him. It’s bad.” Sierra
placed the last row of drinking glasses next to the spot where the punch would
be.

“A PI? Damn, he must be
good at hiding.”

“Or being held
somewhere,” Sierra added. She was full of random things today. My brain hadn’t
gone to the “held against his will” place. Mine stopped exactly on a terrible
thought, one I couldn't imagine, and yet my brain could still whisper it.
What if he’s dead?

I didn't say it aloud,
but I shuddered the same either way.

For the record, he had
fled. That record was my corkboard and not a police file. Lindsey had found a
crumpled threat from the killer in Ashton’s wastebasket, telling him to leave
and he did. The last time anyone had seen him, he had stolen Rachel’s car and
driven off.

The corkboard stayed with
me through all things. It haunted my dreams and plagued my imaginations. I
roamed it in my mind all day and all night, trying to find the answer. But the
one thing I refused to put on the board—the one thing I didn't need to
put on there as my mind was already obsessed with it—was his death.

Ashton was alive, and I
would find him.

Thinking about the
corkboard brought back a lead I had wanted to explore. I gave Sierra a look.
“Where did you get the dress you wore the night of the party at Rachel’s?”

“Rach.” She looked
confused but answered plainly.

“Rachel gave you that
dress?”

“She loaned it to me. She
said it didn't look as good on her. Her boobs were too small for it.” Her lips turned
up into an evil grin. “Why, you wanna undo the tape on your boobs and borrow
it?”

A grimace crossed my
face. “No. Isn’t the dress burnt with the rest of our clothes?”

“Oh yeah.” Her smirk
dropped away, and it was her turn to flush with color. “I forgot.”

“Where did Rachel get
it?”

“The silver one from the
party, that you were wearing?” Rita crossed the deck to us.

“Yeah.” Sierra nodded.

“She got it in New York.
I was with her, last April. We went to a shitty fashion show for an
up-and-coming designer, a random label. Rachel seemed really into the guy. He
was young and more like a villager than a designer. Hipster.” Rita’s nose
wrinkled.

“What was his name?”

Rita tapped a red
fingernail to her plump lip. “Shuster something.”

“Shuster Helmut?” The
name popped from my lips before the memory of Rachel discussing them did. I
hadn’t been part of the conversation but I had overheard her discussing the
line. The name was ridiculous.

“Yeah! That's it!” She
rolled her eyes. “Ugliest fashion show I ever went to. Rachel did have truly
horrible taste when left to her own devices. Thank God for her mother.” She
chuckled and went back to organizing the patio heaters. “She actually went
through the bag Rachel brought and told her what she was allowed to wear and
what she wasn’t.”

Sierra gave me a look,
and I nodded back. Apparently, neither of us had ever noticed that side of
Rachel, even after all those years. But she had been comfortable to show it to
Rita on their first meeting? That was bizarre.

I hoped Sierra was starting
to realize we needed to get into Rachel’s room. If the dress was a
prêt-à-porter that was one thing, but haute couture meant that it was likely
one of a kind until the sale of the line. Only I had seen a second dress at
Rachel’s party. Being in the same dress as someone else was something Rachel
wouldn't have stood for, not the Rachel who cared what she wore. The hipster
version of Rachel was a beast I didn't know. Which also made me wonder what
else I didn't know. Her room had to have answers.

I placed a large bouquet
of flowers on the appetizer table and turned, greeted by Andrew Henning walking
through the French doors from the games room. He looked the same as he had
before his dad died, not even a little drawn or tired. He looked normal. I didn't
expect that. I assumed there would be a trace of the death in his eyes.

“Hey.” I offered a weak
smile, trying so very hard not to treat him differently.

“Hey.” He smiled back
wider, much wider. His soft-brown eyes were clear and his face was tanned like he’d
been boating or something. Even his brunet hair seemed lighter.
Had they gone on vacation?

“How are you?” I didn't
mean to say it, but I couldn't stop myself.

Humor filled his eyes.
“Good, Lain. It’s still me. I’m good. I promise.” He chuckled and walked past
me, shaking his head and patting me on the arm like he might have felt sorry
for me instead.

It was officially the
most awkward moment I had lived through. Even more than admitting my feelings
for Ashton to Vincent. Even more than the bra fitting my mom made me endure
where I was pretty much molested by an evil French woman while she and Mommy
Dearest mocked my posture and lack of self-esteem. Well, maybe not that
awkward.

Jake strolled out of
Rita’s house, grinning at me. His eyes always slipped to my chest, always. Like
he knew the secret of the tensor bandage, or he just truly enjoyed seeing bound
breasts. “Hey, Lain.” His smooth way of talking and sly grin never made me
uncomfortable, but to me he was just like Vincent, a player with a plan. “What’s
going on?”

“Nothing.” I turned and
looked at Andrew who was chatting up the other two. “How is he so fine?”

“Drugs probably.” He
offered a chuckle. “I heard Sage and Linds had to go to the police station.” He
lowered his voice and leaned against the table next to me. “What’s up with
that?”

“Some new questions about
something. I don't know.”

His dark-blue eyes
narrowed. “You’re lying, Lainey.”

“What? No, I’m not.
Sierra’s dad wouldn't tell us anything.”

He leaned in, staring
into my glasses. “You are. Whenever you
lie
you furrow
your eyebrows and wrinkle your forehead. It’s the best tell. Not as bad as
Sierra’s dad with the eye twitching.
Or Linds with the whole
high-pitched voice.
But yours is just as obvious. What happened?”

How the hell was Jake
clever enough to see all of that? I shook my head, not wanting to lie again.
“Nothing.”

“Do you guys know
something about Rachel’s death?”

That, I
didn't have to lie about.
“No. We honestly weren’t there.”

“You can tell me.” He didn't
buy it. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I know you won’t.” I
smiled softly. “And I don't want you being dragged into something you can’t
fix. The less you know the better. Rachel’s death is a total mystery to me, I
swear.”

He rolled his eyes. “If
you need help, let me know.”

I pressed my lips
together, forcing myself not to say anything else. I needed to work on the fact
my forehead wrinkled when I lied. No wonder Jake always cleaned up in poker.
Even with my memory he beat me, which was essentially impossible since I could
count cards like a junkie in Vegas.

His eyes darkened as he
lowered his heavy brow over them. “If you need help finding Ash, seriously, let
me come with you.”

“What?” The word slipped
out, along with the forehead wrinkle I actually felt.

He grinned with one side
of his mouth only. “I know how you feel about him. If the shoe were on the
other foot, he’d be crazy looking for you too. If you get an idea and you want
to go look, I’m your guy.” He slapped me lightly on the bare arm, like we were
pals, but my heart was racing and my mouth was dry. “Don't go alone, it’s not
safe. Promise me, okay?”

“I won’t.”

Did everyone know about my love for Ashton?

Oh my God.

Wait!

Why would Ashton be searching high and low for me if the
shoe were on the other foot?

I pushed the panic inside
me away and nodded, pressing my mouth together again.

Jake winked and strolled
over to where Sierra was, really working his charming swagger. “Hey, ladies.
Need any heavy lifting done?”

Andrew was already making
Rita laugh as he sucked in the helium from a balloon and said something in a
squeaky voice. She giggled and swatted him in the chest.

Sierra sauntered over to
Jake, tilting her head to the right and laying on the leering and grinning.
Whatever she said made him take a step back. He shook his head and glanced back
at me, smiling.

I ignored them all, stuck
on one thought. Had he been tormenting me by telling me that about Ashton, or
was there something I didn't know about the way Ashton felt about me?

My heart was lodged
somewhere in my throat. I could feel it pulsating there. I felt sick as I
slinked back into the house.

“Lain.”

I spun, seeing Lindsey.
Her face was streaked from dried tears—not fresh ones, but there had been
plenty of them at some point to color her face. Her mascara stains were heavy.