Chapter 41 Conrad
Conrad
“This is insane.” I threw my arm around Mal and pulled her a little closer as we made our way down the tunnel. “I love the idea, but it’s insane.”
We didn’t have plans when I ran into her outside our building earlier, and aside from telling James and Felix I’d meet them for a drink later, my Friday night was open.
She’d just hung up from a phone call, and she looked like a different person, somehow smaller.
I managed to get a few details out of her—something about not going home this weekend—but she still looked like she might cry.
“It will force them to act,” Malena insisted as our footsteps clattered against the stone pavers, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.
I was grateful she seemed to have shaken off her earlier gloomy mood.
From the moment she grabbed my hand on the sidewalk outside our building and dragged me to the catacombs, I knew I’d go anywhere with her if it meant seeing that smile back on her face.
“We can be in control,” she insisted, like she needed this, “instead of waiting for something to magically happen. If they already moved the painting, then Ishani would have at least heard about a sale. So it has to be in there, and if we’re going to catch them, we need to light a match under their asses. ”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“It’ll force their hand,” she said firmly.
“I go in, pull the fire alarm in the basement. A couple of fire engines show up and leave when they find the building is empty,” she rambled.
“It’ll garner enough attention that, at the very least, the student body will be sent an email with a warning not to mess around with alarms. And whoever’s behind this will need to act because they’ll know their position is compromised.
They’ll make a move, and we can be in control. If it is Azalea, she’ll know to stop.”
I nodded along, deciding it was best not to remind her that she’d already run me through the plan. Half a dozen times.
“You sure you’re okay?” We stopped at the doorway in question in the catacombs, the one that opened out into the Amherst Building’s cellar. “Mal, if something’s going on, something else, you can talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” A smile touched her lips. “You said I had to tell you before I did anything illegal.”
I sighed, knowing my attempts were futile at this point. She had that determined look on her face I knew too well. “Okay, but I’m doing it.”
“No.” Concern divoted between her brows.
“It’s the only way. I’ll pull the alarm, you wait here.” I rested both hands on her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m Conrad Hastings, remember? Disciplinary Teflon.”
“Conrad.” Her voice wavered.
“Or we can leave right now,” I said firmly.
“Fine. Set off the fire alarm, wait a bit to make sure it actually goes off, then flip it back.”
“You got it, Holmes.” I playfully saluted her.
I took the scarf she had loosely draped around her neck and coiled it around my hand. If I was pulling a fire alarm, I wasn’t going to be stupid enough to make a rookie error like leave prints.
I shoved through the door and made my way inside. “I’ll be right back.”
“Be careful,” she called.
A few minutes later, inside the dusty and damp cellar, I found the alarm next to the stairwell. I made quick work of setting it off, waiting with bated breath as it blared for a solid ten seconds, then rushed back toward Mal.
I closed the heavy door behind me and threw the scarf back over Mal, wrapping it tight this time.
I looked around nonchalantly and shrugged. “I think this is the part where we run.”
A delirious grin pushed against either side of her cheeks, and with a tiny laugh, she turned on her toes, grabbed my hand, and we bolted back the way we came.
After leaving the catacombs, Mal and I walked a while.
So long in fact, that we’d made it to the bay near town.
Huddled tight against the wind, we talked about a million things: what happened next with the article.
My plans for winter break. The fact that Sabrina would be back for Thanksgiving and she’d see her in the city at some point over the holiday.
It was the mention of Sabrina that I suspected had pushed her back into her own head, and she’d been quiet for the last ten minutes.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t we duck into a pub, grab a basket of fries or a drink?” I asked, nodding toward the light trickling over to us from the streetlamps.
My coat thrown over her shoulders, she pulled it closed. “I already ate. But we can do whatever you want.”
I was about to suggest we sit on the bench up ahead when she let out a heavy sigh and stopped abruptly.
“Does it ever bother you that your dad doesn’t like you? Or that he doesn’t try to get to know you, the real you?”
“My dad doesn’t like anyone,” I admitted. “His favorite changes based on who can do what for him. In the past, any instances he was nice to me was out of fear that my mom might actually go through with a divorce.”
Malena nodded. “How do you deal with that?”
“It’s really not so bad. I have a family; it just isn’t the one I was born into,” I told her, running my hands up and down her arms and trying to catch her eye. “What’s going on, Mal?”
“Nothing. It’s dumb.” She shook her head.
“Mal,” I repeated, firmer. She didn’t talk a lot about her parents, but it was obvious they had different ideas for her future career plans. I wasn’t sure what was wrong though, because she had a clear vision of her path. One she liked. “Tell me, I want to know.”
Her eyes skimmed over the water, and I caught facets of moonlight reflected in them.
“My mom wanted me to come home today, last minute, because they had family friends coming over. And I said no,” she explained. “She dropped it, but now she’s furious with me, so I’ll get an earful when I go home next week for the holiday. I’ll probably have to spend the whole weekend apologizing.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I’d gathered from the way she spoke about them every now and again that they had some friction, and I assumed she’d tell me more when she was ready. Maybe tonight was the night.
“I know it sounds childish—”
“It doesn’t.”
“She just…” Mal blew out a breath, then pinched her eyes closed.
“She loves to remind me of everything they’ve sacrificed.
” She blinked rapidly, her eyelids shining, and turned her face up to the clear night sky.
“Anytime I disagree, I’m selfish. She forces my hand, wields the guilt I feel about everything she gave up for me like a weapon. ”
“Forces your hand?” I asked.
The same three words she’d used earlier when she explained why we needed to pull that alarm.
“Yeah… My parents expect a lot from me and sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it,” she explained.
“What are they expecting from you?”
I assumed she meant med school. She seemed dedicated, if not resigned, to that goal, and I was sure she’d find a way to write. Malena found a way to get everything she wanted.
“To do everything the way they want it done,” she answered. “To be perfect.”
“Hate to be the one to tell you this.” I slipped my finger under her chin, tilting it so she faced me. “You are perfect.”
She harrumphed a laugh and shook her head. “Sometimes, I dunno, I feel like…”
Her thoughts drifted off into the night.
“If it’s writing you want, then you can still do that. Maybe take some time to figure it out before you graduate,” I encouraged. “Like that writing seminar over the summer, the one you keep reading about on your phone.”
I knew she loved to write; it was plain as day. And I understood the feeling of being pushed in one direction, but she had been the one to point out that it didn’t have to be the endgame.
“Maybe.” She looked around with a sigh. “It’s just… when I try to stay in the lines that they draw, I feel like I just end up becoming blurry. Like nobody can see me.”
“Well, I happen to see you clearly.” I swung both arms around her and pulled her in. “You’re unreasonably smart, unfairly beautiful, inexplicably mean when you want to be.” I held her tighter. “And perfect exactly as you are. Trust me, Mal, everyone can see that.”
She looked up at me, her mouth holding a wobbly smile.
“Come on.” I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to a car service since we were miles from campus. It would take hours to walk back and cabs never wandered this far off from town. “I should probably get you indoors. The car will be here in a few minutes.”
She leaned in and brushed a kiss against my lips. “Always so concerned about keeping me warm.”
“You don’t dress for the weather.” Despite the cold, everything felt so good I didn’t want to move. I wanted to keep her there, fit perfectly against me.
Minutes later, with the sound of tires slowing to a stop, she hummed serenely as I pulled away.
Only, we quickly realized it wasn’t the car service, and the warm moment shattered when a sharp “Malena!” cracked through the air.
Mal inhaled sharply, jolted a step back, and froze with wide eyes. She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder to see the incensed woman rounding the front of a dark blue SUV. Mal’s eyes immediately went down to her purse as she started riffling through it.
“Shit,” she cursed in a panic.
A protective kick pushed me forward. My hand wrapped around her wrist. “Mal?”
She finally looked up from her bag like she registered what was going on.
Before I could ask anything else, the woman, who I’d gathered was her mom, spoke again.
“Get in the car.” Her mom stomped over and yanked Mal’s arm, jostling her hands and sending two phones clattering to the ground.
Completely fucking lost as to what was going on, I leaned down, and my stomach dropped.
Two phones lay side by side, looking exactly the same apart from one being marked with a golden star.
The one without the star—the one I’d never seen before—had a few texts from Cora and twelve missed calls, all from her mom.
The second phone was blank.
It hit me like a wave, forcing the world underwater. My brain flipped back to that sunny morning in Newport, waiting for my glass of lemonade, and every messy and painful memory my psyche wasn’t equipped to understand at the age of seven made perfect sense now.
Malena stood in front of me, under the glow from the lamppost, speechless and wearing a blank expression.