Chapter Fifty-Nine #2
The cops lunge, knees in my back, face in the dirt as they forcefully cuff my hands behind my back. I’m mumbling a bunch of words that don’t make any sense, clearly having an episode because I don’t remember any of this.
“EMT’s now! We’ve got a 10-70,” one of them hollers.
“Jesus Christ…” the one whose camera is recording this shivers, looking down at Karly.
She’s very visibly dead, gunshot wounds all over her. But none even remotely close to where my rifle had been aimed. And even so, I was turning it away from her when the first shot rang out.
“I didn’t shoot her…” I jitter. “It wasn’t me… I was aiming away from her when the first shot happens. I didn’t kill her.”
“No,” my father sighs. “You didn’t.”
“Sir… this is—”
“Shut that off,” I hear someone bark right before the video cuts out.
“Oh… my God,” Kemper grumbles.
“It wasn’t me. It wasn’t…” I croak. “Holy fuck, I didn’t kill her. They covered it up. They knew I didn’t kill her.”
“The Police Commissioner instructed the officers to erase the footage,” my father says. “Karly was cremated to prevent autopsy. Why would Governor Russo do that…?”
“He knew,” Kemper murmurs.
“Or was at least suspicious,” a new voice joins the conversation. It’s The Ivory.
“My connections in the Brooklyn PD came to me with the footage before it was erased,” he says. “I always knew I’d need leverage against the Commissioner. And Russo, though I’m sure he could claim he wasn’t aware. But I know him better than that. Sorry, knew.”
His lips twitch. My father isn’t grinning—he rarely does—but he too looks pleased that Governor Russo is dead.
“Why…” my voice trails and I clear my throat. “Why are you showing me this?” I ask, both of them.
“I simply wanted you to know that you did not kill the girl, moy syn,” my father says.
I shrug. “So? I’ve killed other people.” I sniff. “I’m not innocent. And I still got Karly killed, whether I fired the shot or not…”
“Dascha, it only comes down to this,” The Ivory says. “You deserved to know the truth. Being accused of doing something you didn’t do is a terrible feeling. Trust me.”
Kemper and I stare at him, well aware that he’s referring to the death of Velle’s mother.
“It doesn’t have to mean you’re a good person. Even if you’re not, you still deserve to be vindicated once in a while.”
Nodding, I take a deep breath. I do feel better knowing I didn’t kill Karly. That shit’s been weighing on my conscience for nearly a year.
“So… what now?” I ask.
My father plucks the flash drive out of the laptop, pocketing it. “I will be returning to Vegas. It would be nice to keep in touch, Dascha. But I understand if you do not want this…”
I stare up at him for a bit, considering if I think I could allow him back into my life; into my new life. But one question is still… nagging at me.
“Were you planning to leave?” I ask my father. “Or did he make you… because it was better for his business?”
My eyes flit in The Ivory’s direction.
Dad’s gaze shifts uneasily between me and The Ivory, who’s pursing his cut and swollen lips, eyes on the floor.
“It does not matter, Dascha,” Dad mumbles. “The bottom line is that I left you. A good father would not do that.”
“But if you had a choice…” I hiss. “That’s different than someone blackmailing you, or extorting you or whatever the hell might’ve gone down.”
“Dash,” The Ivory murmurs. “There are many things for which I am sorry. If I must add taking your father from you to the list, I’ll bear that burden.”
Sighing, I’m just exhausted. They’re right. It doesn’t matter.
At the end of the day, the details of everything The Ivory has done are irrelevant. Because we know he is all of it; his evil empire stretches over all of our lives, like a sheet of plastic that’s been suffocating us for so long. But we’ve burst a hole through it.
And now we can breathe again.
It’s time to move on.
Just like I no longer want to focus on all the things that happened in the Pen while I was suffering, I no longer care about the pain my father caused when he left.
Because I’m not in pain anymore.
My mother’s bones are gone from that closet. Time to lay all of my other skeletons to rest as well.
“Give me some time,” I tell him, glancing at Ivory.
“Both of you. I think you both need to recognize the hurt you’ve caused with your actions, and just…
stay away. For now.” Ivory blinks at me, as if he’s considering my words.
“That doesn’t mean you won’t someday be allowed back in.
It doesn’t even mean you can’t watch from afar.
But just let us all get our lives together. Let us take advantage of this freedom.”
My father appears a bit hurt by this, but that’s fine. He should be.
As for The Ivory, his lips are quirked in understanding. I’m sure he already knows this is what he’ll need to do. After all, he’s inflicted deep wounds. They might take a while to heal.
“Maybe someday we’ll talk.” I stand slowly, taking my real Officer Kemper by the hand. “Until then… eyes open, mouth shut.”
The Ivory’s dark eyes sparkle. My father narrows his gaze and purses his lips.
But neither of them say a word.
“I can’t believe you’re about to get married!” Luthor does a little hop, and I chuckle.
“Really? I can,” I huff. “I’ve been engaged longer than all of you mofos.”
“Still, it’s exciting.” Felix grins. “Our little Dashypoo is tying the knot!”
“Yea, he was in prison the least amount of time, didn’t have to deal with the fall, and somehow managed to locate his soulmate without lifting a finger.” Ren rolls his eyes, teasing sarcastically. “He deserves this.”
“Actually, I think Trevel was in for less time than Dash,” Byron corrects.
“Now, what did I ever do to you?” I ignore him, shaking my head at Ren.
“You made out with my fiancé—do I have to say it again??” He snaps while Felix laughs and Luthor groans.
“Stop bringing it up! As far as I’m concerned, I didn’t even make out with Dash.” Luthor gives Ren a pointed look.
But my brow furrows. “So then… you made out with Kemper?”
His face falls. “Okay, fine, it was you.”
I laugh, sipping my virgin pineapple mojito.“How long did we make out for? Like, did you stop it right away? I feel like you didn’t.”
“I know, look how red he’s getting,” Byron teases.
“It was… a solid five minutes,” Luthor grunts, covering his face.
“Five minutes?!” I gasp a cackle. “That’s a long damn time!”
“What can I say? You’re a good kisser.” He blinks, unamused.
“Or Kemper is,” Byron snickers.
“That he definitely is,” I hum.
“But still, you didn’t know that when you were emulating him all up in my boyfriend’s mouth,” Ren natters on. “It was like, how you thought Kemper would be…”
“Or how you wanted him to be.” Trevel smirks.
“Was it the same with Angel?” Ren’s head slants. Evil motherfucker, I’m telling you.
“I don’t know…” I grunt. “For the millionth time, I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do,” Byron sneers. “Because you remember what you felt, as Dash.”
“Ah, good point.” Ren leans forward. “So… how was it?”
“Are you asking me how it felt to fuck myself?” I snort. “Because that’s not really a conversation I wanna have on my wedding day.”
“Yea, shut up.” Felix pouts. “This isn’t pre-wedding talk.”
“Yes, it is!” Ren snaps. “We’re talking about how his soon-to-be husband fucks. Even if it’s imaginary, I imagine Kemper to be quite the powerhouse.”
“Baby girl,” I croon, “you have no idea.”
I wink, and Ren shimmies. It has us all laughing like the nutballs we are.
“Are we ready in here?” Rook pokes his head in from outside. “Your groom’s getting antsy.”
“Awww! So cute,” Ren squeals, shaking me around. I stand up slowly while he fusses over my clothes and my hair. All of which are perfect, of course. “I love you.” He hugs onto me tightly while I chuckle.
“Why are you getting so sappy right now??”
“Because! I feel like my little brother is getting married.” Ren sniffles.
“Brothers don’t suck each other’s dicks, Warren,” I scold him.
“You sure about that?” He winks at Luthor, who’s just shaking his head.
My forehead lines. “What?”
“Nothing.” He grins, pinching my cheeks.
“So… yes? No? Why does everyone ignore me?” Rook grumbles from the sliding door that leads to the deck.
“It’s hard to get any spotlight when your partner hogs it,” Luthor mutters. “Trust me, I’m speaking from personal experience.”
Ren gasps in outrage.
“We’ll be right out,” I tell Rook, laughing. “I can’t wait for you guys to move out here with me! It’ll be this type of shitshow only every day!”
“Yea, I’m not jealous at all.” Byron pouts.
“Hey, you’ve still got me.” Felix grins, and Byron mirrors it.
“That’s true. We’re going to London without you buttheads.” He hugs Felix, sticking his tongue out at us.
“Real mature,” Ren mutters. “In other news, you’re both dead to me.”
We laugh, and Luthor takes me by the arm. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I breathe.
We walk out, Felix rubbing my shoulders like I’m Rocky heading into the ring. “It’s gonna be great.”
I nod. Because, yea, I know it will be. Our wedding is very low-key—not like the crazy rigamarole Luthor and Ren are planning.
We’re just going to stand out on our beach, beneath the stars, barefoot, in front of our family, and get hitched. I’ve been dying to marry Kellan Kemper since the moment I met him, officially, down here in Tulum.
But I am nervous. After all, it’s a big deal.
I’m finally going to become Dascha Kemper. It’s like the end of an era…
But it’s not the end. Not really. It’s the end of one story, and the beginning of another.
So much amazing stuff is on the horizon, not just for me and Kemper, but for all of us.
So if I shed any tears today, they’ll be the happy kind. The ones full of possibility.
Hope, and freedom, and love.
Good muthafuckin vibes.