Chapter 7
I fall down on the little couch and stare at the dark ceiling.
I’m thinking of nothing and everything all at once.
All the things I’ll never have, even though I technically had everything.
I still feel lost. Expendable. Like my life doesn’t matter.
And for most of today, when I was with Chase, I liked who I could have been.
If I had the chance.
My phone rings, ripping me out of my thoughts, and a picture of Lizzie appears.
FaceTime? I’ve been careful to only let her see my bed. I’m not sure what’s in the frame, what she can see if I talk down here. I click audio only. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Sit down.” Her command is sharp, serious.
“I am. What’s the matter?”
“You need to tell me where you are. Right now. I’ll come down there to get you, and we can regroup.
I’ll even fly commercial. I’ll fuckin’ fly coach, Jos, this is serious.
” She’s speaking swiftly, not pausing for breath, not letting me get a word in.
“My cover—your cover—is blown. Add in the fucktard who sent the email, and it’s gonna be a shit-show in a matter of hours.
Grab your shit. Stuff it in a bag and get the fuck out of there. ”
“Slow down.” My pensive high is totally gone. I clutch the phone tightly, strangling it. Fear starts to creep up my spine like a fuzzy spider, but I ignore the premonition. “What happened?”
“They figured out you aren’t here!” Lizzie screeches. “Some reporter pieced together that you haven’t been seen since the night some schmuck running for Congress disappeared.” She pauses, but I can’t answer. My brain is stuck.
“Right. Shit’s on the fuckin fan, Jos. Now, guess who the last person to see him was?” She doesn’t wait for me to reply. “It was you! Fucking, fuckety fuck, Jos! Why didn’t you tell me?”
There’s no feeling in my body. Everything is static. My jaw hangs there, and words won’t come. They know. She knows. My throat is so tight, and my heart is pounding, drowning out her words.
I speak over her, but it’s too soft for her to hear. “I didn’t do anything.”
Denial.
Lies.
Prison.
I’m going to prison if they know what happened that night. My God. That guy is dead. He has to be dead.
Lizzie takes a pull of air so deep I can hear her breathing over the phone. “Listen. Sean got off on a murder charge, with a body. They had a fucking body. There’s no body, Jos. You need your family right now. Come home.”
Shaking my head, I try to make my voice work. I try. I try. But my hands shake, and tremors race through my body. My lips purse several times while Lizzie yells at me before I blurt out, yelling at her, “I can’t!”
I can’t.
I can’t.
I can’t do this.
They could protect me.
But if it’s a choice between me and saving the family name—the Ferro name that is linked to billions in business deals—they won’t choose me.
I’ve been gone, and no one even noticed. Not even Peter. Peter, who notices butterflies. He couldn’t even tell Lizzie wasn’t me. She’s been emulating me in a full crash-and-burn party persona, but no one came to check on me. Not Avery. Not Sean. No one.
No. I can’t go home. There is no home. They won’t choose me.
“Then, I’m coming to you. Address. Now.” She’s dead serious.
But so am I. I fucked with a political candidate connected to the fucking Menelli family.
They’re low-class mob scum, but they’re crazier than the Ferros, because they do shit in broad daylight.
Ferros are mindfuckers who play with their prey.
Menellis just shoot you in the face. Last I saw the candidate, he was covered in blood. Shit. Shit. Shit.
THINK!
I blurt out the thought I’m reaching for that hasn’t quite formed yet. “Where were you when they figured out you weren’t me? Who knows?”
“It’s too late! Everyone knows! Turn on a fucking television! Look at TikTok! It’s everywhere!” Her voice is frantic. I can picture her trying to cover for me and failing—then the rage that follows. I bet she trashed her room.
“Where are you?” I press again and wonder why she won’t say.
“It doesn’t matter—”
The urgency in her voice nearly overpowers me, but the shock is wearing off a bit, and just before the panic steals my mind, I sense something.
I can’t tell what. It could be there’s already a mob guy on my lawn with a gun or an ant crawling up my leg.
I want to scream. I can’t trust what I feel.
Every part of me feels like it’s been shoved in a microwave and wrapped in tinfoil.
Yelling, I cut her off, “WHERE ARE YOU? JUST FUCKING TELL ME!”
“At my house, okay? No one knows I have the number to this burner phone, but you need to stop being so stupid and—”
I’m so fried that I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking.
No filter. No reining it in. Nothing. “Stupid? Me? You’re the one who had the easy job.
You’re the one who keeps telling me to just jump a jet like I won’t get caught!
The D.A. has a vendetta against my family, especially after losing the case with Sean, and that’s not the worst of it!
How’d they even place me with the candidate?
No one knew I was there that night. My name wasn’t even on the list… ” I trail off.
Daddy made me go. Same MO. Slutty dress, too much make-up, bump into him. Flattery. But it went so horribly wrong. There was so much blood by the time I ran. If they find his body—my God. I don’t know which will be worse—Daddy, the District Attorney, or the Menelli mob.
There’s a tornado of thoughts pelting me so hard that I don’t realize how long I’ve been on the phone. Swearing, I hang up suddenly, knowing it’ll piss Lizzie off. It’ll look like I don’t trust her. But if she traced the call, or someone else did, they’ll know I’m in central Texas.
I need to disappear.