CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blair
I sat in a rental car under the shade of a tree by the trailer park where Zach used to live, unable to bring myself to step outside yet. My mind was on the night before last, pain a permanent resident in me since what transpired between Zach and me by the pool.
How could he have done that to me? In a way, his retribution made sense because I’d done way worse things to him and others.
But those videos were everything to me. They were the only thing I’d created that didn’t serve some shallow purpose, and I’d never be able to get them back.
They were the pieces of my soul now destroyed, and I was bleeding, feeling voiceless and empty without them.
But what made the pain worse was the fact that Zach was exacting this retribution.
With each action, each cruel word, each humiliation, he pushed the dagger of pain deeper into my chest, and it was impossible to harden my heart against it.
Against him. Against the confusion he created in me whenever he brought me pleasure.
It shouldn’t matter. That pleasure wasn’t for my sake.
It was a weapon of manipulation and punishment.
But it was so hard to remember that when he touched me or when he put his mouth on me and produced pleasure I’d never felt before.
My heart beat faster whenever he was near me, and not entirely in fear or apprehension.
I wished he wasn’t so handsome. I wished I didn’t remember so well the boy who was so brilliant, so curious, so eager to learn. The boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.
My chest squeezed tightly.
I needed answers more than ever. I needed to know who he really was, something that would maybe lessen the pain of what he was doing to me, and that was why I’d decided to visit Zach’s former home.
I’d called the investigator before I came here, and so far, the only thing he could tell me was that the license plate was a dead end.
It was registered under a fake name, and it only raised my curiosity.
The investigator couldn’t tell me anything else, which was beyond weird.
Zach couldn’t have disappeared off the face of the earth.
But why was it so difficult to obtain any information about him?
I turned to study the trailer park through the window, trying to soak it all in.
Time wasn’t on their side, because all the trailers looked worn down.
The irregular patches of grass on dry soil between the trailers were the only source of color.
That and the laundry hanging on the lines strewn around.
Someone’s TV emitted loud sounds nearby, and kids could be heard playing somewhere in the distance.
This was where Zach had grown up. The very thought that I was here brought butterflies to my belly, but I suppressed them and took a deep breath. I shouldn’t waste any more time.
I turned off the engine and stepped out of the car, which was an inconspicuous gray sedan that blended in here more than my Aston Martin DBS Coupe. I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention. I inhaled the hot, humid air that threatened to douse me in sweat in no time.
I’d been here once before. It was a few days after the locker room incident when Dad came here to pay off his mom. I’d followed him in another car, curious to see where Zach lived, which was how I knew now which of these had been Zach’s trailer.
I put on my shades and headed there, but not before a blond girl appeared out of nowhere, her lips stretched into a wide smile.
“You’re Blair Everett.”
I hid a grimace behind a sheet of hair, cursing my luck. “Sorry. You’ve mistaken me for someone.”
She entered my personal space and inspected my face from all angles.
“Yes, you are her.” She jumped up and down, squealing.
“I can’t believe this! I’ve been your fan for so long.
I’ve watched all your TikToks. And are those real Gucci glasses?
” She shook her head, laughing at herself.
“What am I saying? Of course they are. Nice hairstyle, by the way. It looks so good on you.”
I offered her a friendly smile, although I didn’t feel it. I’d met my fans a few times before, which I loved, but this was bad timing. “Thank you. I’m afraid I have to go now—” I started to move.
She almost stepped on my shoes as she prevented me from leaving. “Won’t you take a picture with me?”
Absolutely not. I couldn’t risk my parents finding out I was here. “I—”
She pulled her phone out and stopped right next to me, aiming it so that it got both of us in the shot, and I bristled at that. She didn’t even care whether I wanted my picture taken or not, and if anything could exhaust my patience, it was that.
I resumed walking before she could take a picture. “Sorry. Another time.”
She gaped at me, hurt flashing in her eyes. “Wow, you really are a bitch. It’s just one photo. You don’t have to be so rude about it.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, not stopping.
Which, of course, only made it worse. “So you really are stuck-up, as they say. Okay. Whatever. Good to know not to support you anymore.”
I cringed but didn’t say anything, heading around one of the trailers, making sure she didn’t follow me.
Zach’s former home was located at the edge of the lot, a small trailer with tiny porch stairs serving as its entrance and dusty windows. I listened for any sounds from the inside, but there were none.
I pushed my hair from my temples, a few beads of sweat already gathering there, and knocked on the door, hoping to see whoever lived here now. The stairs creaked under me as I shifted my weight. There was no answer. I knocked again.
“No one lives there,” someone said, and I turned my head to see a woman in her forties throw a bag of trash into the trash can by the trailer next to Zach’s.
She glanced at my clothes, and her lip twitched.
I shifted from foot to foot, wishing I had the foresight to dress in something way less expensive. The linen pants and top I’d combined with a few thousand dollars’ worth of purse screamed I belonged in a different world.
“Hi. Do you know the family who used to live here? The Curtises?”
She raised her brows. “Do I know them? Sweetheart, I’ve lived here my whole life. Of course I know them.” She glanced at Zach’s home, her face falling. “Knew them. Because Millicent died. God have mercy on her soul.” She narrowed her gaze at me. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’m— was Zach’s . . . classmate. We lost all contact, but I’d like to know where he is now. We were good friends back then.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why did you lose contact if you were such good friends?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Really.” She cocked her head. “Well, as I said, no one lives there anymore.”
I climbed down the porch stairs. “Do you know where he went? Or what he’s doing now?”
“No.”
I sighed with disappointment. “You said his mom died. I wasn’t aware of that,” I lied. “Do you know what happened?”
She looked at my clothes again, and I got the impression her answers wouldn’t come for free.
“I’ll compensate you for the information.”
Her nose wrinkled up. “Do not insult me, girl. Do all rich people think everyone’s after money?”
I fidgeted with the zipper on my purse, cursing myself inwardly for my mistake. I’d judged her too quickly and tried to bribe her. I wouldn’t have even blinked at that before, but now . . . it made me feel dirty.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “Just because I live here doesn’t mean I don’t have principles, girl.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that. I . . . I really am sorry. It’s just . . . I’m really curious about Zach and what happened that made him leave without a trace. He was just gone one day, and I never found out where he went.”
She stared at me for a long time, and I was almost certain she would tell me to leave, but then her lips tilted up in a smile.
“Tell you what, why don’t you come inside, and we can talk about Zach over a cup of coffee?” She motioned at her door. “Unless you don’t want to dirty your clothes?” She gave me a challenging look.
I laughed, feeling relieved. “I’d love that.”
I followed her inside, and the smell of the cooking sauce permeated my nostrils.
A cartoon playing on the TV could be heard over the sizzling meat on the stove.
I passed by the stacked kitchen cabinets and the fridge in a small corner that made up the kitchen.
How did she manage to function in such a small, confining space?
I barely finished that thought before I spotted a girl about six years old playing with dolls on the floor by the TV.
The rest of her toys were in the corner behind her, and just like the dolls, the fridge, and the TV, they looked expensive compared to the rest of the furniture.
“Is this your daughter?”
She smiled. “Abby. Yes.” She moved over to her and ran her hand over her blond head.
“Mommy, who’s that?” Abby asked.
The woman gave me an amused look. “I have yet to find that out.”
Now that I thought about it . . . “You didn’t tell me your name.”
“You didn’t tell me yours.”
I smiled. “I’m Blair.”
She smiled back. “Maggie. It’s nice to meet you.” She motioned for me to sit at the kitchen table. “How do you drink your coffee?”
“Black with one teaspoon of sugar.”
I navigated a gas cooker, then slipped onto the chair.
The table was wall-mounted and was currently filled with a clothing iron and a pile of children’s clothes, along with coloring books and a couple of old magazines.
There was barely any place for the cup she put in front of me before she poured me coffee and added sugar.
“I just made the coffee, so it’s still hot.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”