Chapter 23
23
BLAKE, 1998
17 years old
I was going to hell. Not in the biblical, fire-and-brimstone, eternal-damnation kind of way. No demons with pitchforks, no lakes of fire, no judgment day waiting to weigh my sins. But hell, all the same. A slow, steady descent, one choice at a time.
Because every time Beverly tested me, I failed.
Every time she pushed, I let her.
Every time she looked at me with those knowing eyes, daring me to crack, I felt myself slipping.
Hell wasn’t a place; it was a state of being.
And Beverly was dragging me there, one step at a time. Little by little, inch by inch, with every word that left her lips. It was in the way she tilted her head, feigning innocence, even as her words slithered beneath my skin like poison.
She played me like a puppet, and I danced. I hated her for it. Not in any way that made sense. I hated her in the way an addict hates the thing that ruins them, that strips them of everything they once were, but still craves it more than air.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she whispered about some guy with nice eyes.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she leaned in just close enough for me to catch the scent of her shampoo.
She knew exactly what she was doing when she smiled at me like she was winning.
I sat there in the parking lot, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from pulling her back into the car and making her admit she knew exactly what she was doing to me.
She walked up the driveway, playing with her messy bun like she wasn’t aware of every single nerve in my body firing at once.
And I just sat there. Waiting for her to turn around.
Waiting for her to give me one last look.
Because that’s what we did, right?
That was the pattern.
She’d push, I’d pull back. She’d test, I’d refuse to break.
She stopped at the front door, her fingers curling around the handle. And for a second I thought maybe this time would be different. Maybe she’d let me breathe. Maybe she’d let this one day pass without leaving another mark.
But then she turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the glint of mischief in her blue eyes.
Just enough for me to see that smug little smile on her face.
She stretched her arms above her head, all lazy and satisfied, like she hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes messing with me.
I knew she was going to text me the second she got inside.
I exhaled slowly, jaw tight.
I needed to get out of this damn car.
I didn’t wait for a response from Jamal. Just threw my phone onto the passenger seat and started driving. I needed to get out of my head. Out of this car. Away from her.
The roads blurred together, the dull hum of the engine and the faint, distant noise of the radio barely registering. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against my thigh, the ghost of Beverly’s smug smile still burning behind my eyes.
I barely even realized where I was going until I was already pulling into the parking lot of the cinema.
I wasn’t supposed to be in until later, but I didn’t care.
I stepped out, slamming the door shut a little harder than necessary, rolling my shoulders back as if that would shake her out of my system.
It didn’t.
* * *
The scent of buttered popcorn and overpriced soda syrup was so ingrained in this place that I swore I could still smell it on my clothes hours after I clocked out.
The neon glow of the menu boards flickered slightly, casting a dull light over the concession stand where I leaned against the counter, drumming my fingers against the surface. The place was half-empty tonight, with the usual trickle of couples too busy making out to actually watch the movie and kids trying to sneak into R-rated films.
It was slow enough that I had time to lazily spin a straw between my fingers as I watched the clock tick by.
I had a shift with Riley tonight. She was new, still figuring things out, but she was already one of the few coworkers I actually liked. She had dark, close-cropped hair and a lip piercing she always played with when she was thinking. She was easy-going, didn’t ask too many questions, and had a knack for staying out of the drama that seemed to swirl around everyone else. Riley was also very much not into men—something that, in a place like this, probably made her the smartest person here.
She stood beside me, her head tilted as she inspected her nails. “Slow night,” she muttered over the low hum of a movie trailer playing over the speakers in the lobby.
“Yeah.”
She sighed. “You think if I fake a stomachache, Greg will let me go home early?”
“Pretty sure that trick only works once.”
“Then we’re in luck. I’ve never tried it before.”
I hummed, scanning the lobby. “If you’re that desperate to leave, I’ll cover for you.”
Riley raised a brow. “Look at you, being all gentlemanly.”
“I just don’t care enough to stop you.”
She smirked, leaning an elbow on the counter. “And here I was, thinking you had a heart under all that broody silence.”
“I’m not broody.”
She scoffed. “Please. You’ve been broody since I met you.”
I turned to her, my voice dry. “Riley, you met me last month.”
“And I stand by my statement.”
I gave her a flat look.
She waved a hand and grinned. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Some girls go crazy for that shit.”
“Luckily for me, I don’t care.”
“Trust me, I’ve been waiting for the moment some poor girl falls at your feet, and you just blink at her like she’s a math equation you don’t feel like solving.”
I huffed a small laugh. “Doubt that’ll happen.”
She grinned wider. “Oh, it will.” Then, “Speaking of…”
My brows pulled together. “What?”
Before she could respond, I heard it.
That voice.
The one that lived in my bones.
“Oh, look at that. You do work hard for your money.”
My whole body tensed.
I turned my head just as Beverly stepped into view, her lips curved in that familiar, teasing smile, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing that same smug expression she always had when she thought she had the upper hand.
Jesus, this girl lived to get under my skin.
God forbid I get a moment of peace.
I stared at her, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”
She gasped, placing a hand over her heart in fake offense. “Wow. Not even a ‘Hey, B, good to see you’?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, watching as she sauntered toward the counter and placed her elbows on it like she belonged here. “Seriously. Why are you here?”
She smiled, all innocent. “I’m here for a job.”
I blinked. “You what?”
“A job,” she repeated, leaning in slightly. “You know, so I can pay for all those expensive text messages.”
I dragged a hand down my face, already exhausted.
She shrugged. “It’s only fair. You’ve been paying for me this whole time… I can’t keep owing you forever.”
“You don’t need a job, B.”
That was why I was working, after all—so she didn’t have to. To buy her things, to make sure she had everything she needed. Not the other way around.
“I want one.”
“You have school. And dance.”
“So?”
“You hate being told what to do,” I pointed out. “You don’t like working.”
“I like money,” she shot back.
I narrowed my eyes, lowering my voice. “You do realize this job requires you to actually do things, right? Like, stand for hours, serve people food, deal with annoying customers? We both know you’re not going to last two minutes dealing with customers without making fun of them.”
She rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “I can handle it. I can be professional.”
I raised a brow. “Oh, yeah?”
Beverly straightened her back, smoothing out her expression, her voice shifting into something sickly sweet. “Welcome to the movies! How can I ruin your night?”
I stared at her.
Then I laughed, shaking my head. “Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back in full.” She winked.
“Go home, Beverly.”
A challenge gleamed in her eyes. “Make me.”
I sucked in a slow breath, tightening my grip on the counter. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You can’t just show up and demand a job. There’s an application process. An interview. It’s not like they’re gonna hand you a uniform just because you want one.”
She grinned, reaching into her bag. And then, to my absolute horror, she pulled out a neatly folded staff uniform.
“No. No, no, no,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.
Beverly smiled, unfolding the uniform and holding it up like a victory flag. “Surprise,” she chirped.
She looked way too pleased with herself, arms crossed over her chest, tapping one foot like she was waiting for me to roll out a red carpet. I watched her slide the uniform over her head, the red fabric clinging to her frame as she adjusted it with a proud grin.
“Well?” she said, spinning once. “How do I look?”
“Like a problem.”
She smirked. “You love solving problems.”
For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. Some kind of overworked, overtired mirage caused by too many hours in this damn place. Maybe I inhaled too much of the industrial popcorn butter. But then she stepped behind the counter, grabbed a cup, and started filling it with soda like she’d been here for years.
Riley let out a quiet whistle beside me. “Damn, she’s good.”
Beverly’s eyes flicked to her, as if noticing her for the first time. She straightened, tilting her head slightly, assessing Riley like she was trying to decide whether or not she was a problem.
I recognized it instantly—that tiny shift in her expression, the almost imperceptible way her shoulders tensed. She was jealous.
Riley must’ve picked up on it too because she arched a brow, looking way too amused.
I sighed and gestured toward her. “Beverly, meet Riley. Riley, this is Beverly.”
Riley smirked, clearly entertained. “Oh, this is Beverly?”
Beverly blinked at me. “You talk about me?”
Riley’s smirk widened. “You’re his sister, right?”
Beverly’s expression darkened just enough for me to notice. “Well, not really,” she said flatly. “But that’s what everyone calls me, right, Blake?”
Jesus Christ. I was going to lose my mind.
“Beverly,” I sighed. “You do not work here.”
“I do! And wow, way to be supportive.”
I fought the temptation to drop my head onto the counter.
“So, you guys work together?” Beverly asked, her voice light.
I exhaled slowly. Here we go.
Riley nodded. “Sure do. Blake and I are a great team.”
I gave her a look that said drop it.
I was going to have a stroke.
An actual, medical event.
And Beverly?
Beverly somehow convinced an old lady to tip her a dollar.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Beverly.”
“Blake,” she echoed sweetly, her voice all soft and innocent.
I clenched my jaw.
I hated her.
Not really.
But I wished I did.
Riley, to my absolute dismay, was having the time of her life watching this unfold. “Oh, I like you,” she told Beverly.
Beverly flicked her eyes toward her, her weight shifting just slightly—so subtle I almost missed it. Almost. That tiny shift in her stance told me everything I needed to know. She was staking her claim without even realizing it. “Oh, do you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Riley said. “You’re chaotic.”
“Don’t encourage her,” I warned.
Riley shrugged. “Why not? This is fun.”
I gave her a look of pure betrayal.
Beverly grinned, and for a second, I considered quitting my job. Just ripping my name tag off, throwing it at Greg, and walking out the door, never to return.
Because this was my life now.
Beverly invading my job. Beverly inserting herself into every available space. Beverly making sure I had absolutely no peace, ever. And worst of all? I didn’t even want her to leave.
I swallowed hard, forcing my thoughts into submission. “Where’s Greg?” I asked Riley, my voice tight.
She shrugged.
Beverly grinned. “The manager? He said I can start tonight.”
I scowled. “He didn’t even call me.”
Beverly tapped a finger against her chin, feigning deep thought. “Hmm, weird,” she murmured. “Almost like this isn’t about you.”
I stared at her. She stared back.
Then, before I could snap, Greg himself walked out from the office in the back. “McHayes,” he called out. “I see you met the new hire.” He clapped me on the back. “Your sister’s got spunk,” he added, like this was a good thing.
I blinked.
Then I turned back to Beverly. She waved.
My eye twitched.
Greg patted my shoulder. “You’re training her.”
Beverly beamed.
I fainted.
Not in the dramatic, cinematic way where everything goes black, and I collapse to the floor in slow motion. No, that would’ve been merciful. Instead, I stood there, eyes open, completely dissociating while my soul temporarily left my body.
“Blake?” Beverly’s voice cut through the fog.
I blinked once. Then twice. Then, finally, I remembered how to breathe.
Greg was still talking, still patting my shoulder, still ruining my life. “You good, McHayes?”
No. No, I was not good. But instead of saying that, I muttered, “Yeah,” my voice sounding far away.
Riley, the absolute menace, was barely containing her amusement. I could see her holding in laughter like it was physically painful. Beverly, however, had no such restraint.
She beamed up at Greg, rocking slightly on her heels like she was just so happy to be here. “I’m so excited to learn from Blake,” she quipped, her voice dripping with the kind of sweetness that made my stomach churn.
Greg, the fool, actually looked pleased. “That’s the spirit, Price. And if you need anything, your brother is the best guy for the job.”
Beverly nodded, all too knowingly. “Oh, I know.”
My vision blurred at the edges.
I was going to pass out. Right here, right now. In the middle of my place of employment. And Beverly was going to win.
Greg clapped his hands. “Alright, you two…get started.”
I exhaled slowly, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Greg’s words bounced around inside my skull, repeating over and over like a cruel joke.
You’re training her.
You’re training her.
You’re training her.
You’re training her.
You’re training her.
The world tilted.
For a split second, I wondered if I was imagining it.
Maybe it was just a stress response.
Maybe my body was finally rejecting the relentless torment that was Beverly Price. Maybe this was my mind’s last-ditch effort to save me from complete psychological collapse.
Beverly tilted her head, that devastatingly smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and I swear to God, it was the last thing I saw before everything went sideways.
I vaguely heard Riley say, “Shit,” right before I hit the floor.
The stress had finally killed me.
* * *
I came to on the sticky, questionably cleaned floor of the cinema lobby, my head buzzing like an TV stuck between channels. Voices echoed above me—muffled, disjointed, like they were coming from underwater. A faint ringing buzzed in my ears, and my limbs felt disconnected from my body, like I was floating just outside myself.
He’s burning up!
Did he sleep enough ?
I don’t know.
Did he eat today ?
God, I don’t know! He always acts like exhaustion and hunger and pain don’t apply to him if he just wills them away hard enough.
Someone tapped my cheek, not gently. “Blake. Blake. Blake .” The voice was suspiciously close to my ear. “Blake, if you’re alive, say something. If you’re dead, also say something.”
I let out a groan that was barely human, wincing slightly as I tried to process the fact that I was still alive and not mercifully released from this hell.
I managed to pry my eyes open, and the very first thing I saw was Beverly’s face. Which meant I was, in fact, in hell.
She was leaning over me, her face blotchy, her eyes wet, her chest rising and falling too fast. Her blonde ponytail swung as she tilted her head, blue eyes scanning my face like she was deeply considering poking me again.
I groaned. “Don’t.”
Greg crouched down beside me, his hands resting on his knees. “You alright, McHayes?”
I turned my head very slowly. “I’m training her?”
Greg nodded. “You sure are.”
I shut my eyes. “Knock me out again.”
“Asshole,” Beverly choked out. There was a sniff before I felt her breath against my neck, sharp and uneven, as her fingers trembled against my skin. “You scared me,” she whispered.
“How long was I out?”
Beverly sniffled again, swiping at her eyes like she could erase the evidence of her tears. “I-I don’t know. A few minutes. We caught you before you cracked your skull open.” She made a broken sound and brushed her fingers over my buzzed scalp, like she was looking for an injury. “I thought you died.”
“B.” I turned my head, my cheek brushing against her temple. “I’m right here.”
She was trembling, her breath coming in sharp gasps, her entire body tight with barely contained emotion.
I recognized it immediately—that helpless, panicked, spiraling feeling—because I’d felt it before. Not long ago, when she came home after that party at Mason’s.
I swallowed, my own hands twitching at my sides before—hesitantly—I let them settle against her back. “I didn’t die, B.”
“You hit the ground, Blake! You… Your eyes rolled back. You just collapsed—” She wiped at her face aggressively, kneeling beside me, her hands everywhere—pressing against my chest, my arms, my face, like she had to make sure I was still here.
I reached up, my fingers closing around her wrist. Her pulse was racing. “Hey,” I murmured, rubbing my thumb over her skin. “I’m okay, B. I promise.” With a low groan, I pressed my hand against my forehead, still feeling lightheaded but more aware now. “It was just a stress blackout.”
“I was kind of hoping she’d slap you awake, but she just—” Riley gestured vaguely at Beverly, “started sobbing instead.”
All I could think was: I did that; I made her cry .
Greg stood with a sigh, brushing off his pants like watching an employee pass out was just part of his job description. “Alright, let’s get you up. Riley, get back to work.”
Before I could react, he was grabbing my arm.
Unfortunately, Beverly had the same idea.
So, instead of gracefully sitting up like a normal person, I was yanked in two different directions at once.
I smashed straight into Beverly. Forehead to forehead.
“ Ow ,” she yelped, clutching her head.
Greg made a face. “Yeah, that’s gonna bruise.”
I groaned, rubbing my temple. “Jesus Christ.”
Beverly shoved me. “You have a big, hard head, smartass!”
“Maybe move out of the way next time?”
“Maybe don’t pass out at work,” she snapped, still sniffling.
Which did things to me.
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “I’m fine.”
“Fine people don’t just drop to the floor like a sack of bricks.”
Greg clapped my back. Too hard . “Alright, champ, let’s?—”
“Greg, please stop talking.”
Riley chimed in, “Yeah, boss, let him have his moment with his very concerned not-sister.”
“Not-sister?” Greg asked, confused.
“Oh, boy,” Riley whisper-shouted. “Do I have news for you.”
“Greg,” I gritted out. “Give me five minutes. Then I’ll get back to work.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “You’re not working tonight.”
“What?”
“You passed out , Blake,” he reminded me.
I stared at him. “And? I don’t need to go home.”
“Good thing you’re not the one making that call.”
Beverly held out her hand for me.
I stared at it like it was an active grenade.
She wiggled her fingers. “Come on, Loverboy.”
I grabbed her wrist instead of her hand, using it to pull myself up just enough to glare at her.
“If you ever call me that again?—”
“Blake McHayes,” she whispered, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “Did I really make you faint?”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to give her that satisfaction.
I stood, brushed myself off, and looked down at her with all the frustration and exhaustion of a man at his breaking point.
“I hate you.”
She patted my chest, smiling way too brightly.
“You love me.”