21. Zoe
21
ZOE
The bright TV screen blinds me when I first turn it on. It’s two in the morning, but there’s no chance of sleep tonight. I don’t know what worries me more—the bikers getting life sentences, or what Felix is gonna do next. For breaking into his mansion and apparently attempting to rape me, the future doesn’t look bright for the bikers. But Fiona’s future doesn’t look great either. There’s no difference between breaking the law and disobeying Felix.
To be honest, Fiona’s life has never looked bright, but it’s always been my goal to improve it for her. She’s only nineteen—her life is just beginning. She and I used to talk about the future when we both struggled to sleep at night, and she told me she wanted to be a lawyer. She loved the idea of college, but Father thought it was pointless and said there was no need for her to work—why work for cents when thousands are already being handed down? She still lives with him and I barely see her anymore, but I know at night, she’s wide awake researching a career path and trying to get out.
College for her is like what the dream of Paris was for me during high school—the only light at the end of the tunnel. And what happened to my dream?
It got abolished.
One of us at least deserves to pursue our dreams. And it’s Fiona who deserves it most. Between us both, I’m the selfish one who forfeits everything for sex.
I sink into the mattress and wish the bikers were here with me. If Felix didn’t want me seeing anybody else, he should’ve considered a single bed for my room.
But I know how he likes to torment me.
“Breaking news,” says the news presenter on TV. She wears a purple pantsuit, and an expression that suggests something serious is about to be revealed.
“Paul Royal’s not-so-little secret has caused the billionaire casino owner to take his own life.”
I sit forward, grab the TV remote, and crank up the volume. A series of images flash by. Smiling pictures of Paul, police tape barriered across his casino. The camera then pans to the inside of the casino—it’s desolate.
What the fuck?
“Paul was one of the best in his trade,” continues the news presenter. “Now, we’re understanding why. Thirteen months ago, the business owner was caught money laundering by renowned whistleblower Isla Juniper. Paul, to prevent the scandal from reaching public ears, murdered Juniper in her own home, but it seemed Royal continued to be at a loss after the murder, and ended up taking his own life to escape the guilt. He hung himself around the back of his own casino. Police discovered his dead body at 7:53 AM, on the nineteenth of August.”
I sit forward, and continue doing so even when the news presenter finishes.
“Following the shocking turn of events, Felix Fernando has decided to step up and replace Paul Royal at Cash Pot Palace. We’re live with Felix now.”
The TV screen transitions to a live feed of Felix’s office. He sits with his hands netted together, and adapts a serious expression, giving a delayed head nod to the news presenters who anticipate what he’s got to say.
“Thank you.” Another head nod. “It’s devastating to hear about Paul. He was such a positive man with bright ideas and an optimism for life that inspired many. It’s a pity that he was running illegal activities behind the scenes, and that these activities drove him to homicide. It comes as a shock to me”—he opens his hand, gesturing to the camera—“and I’m sure to all of you at home. In life, you must own up to your mistakes and face the consequences, and in Paul’s case, that meant taking his own life.”
The two news presenters in the top right-hand corner nod simultaneously.
“Anyway.” His hands re-net. “It would be a real shame to see Cash Pot Palace wither away and be left empty, so I have decided to take over the casino with Warren.”
The two presenters smile.
“That’s honorable,” says the woman, the tiny square zooming back in as she continues to speak. “We know you’re a busy man, Felix, and have a lot on your plate, so we commend you for that.”
He bows his head modestly.
Seething with anger, I launch the TV remote at the screen and growl.
Of course it doesn’t smash.
Nothing fucking shatters when it’s got Felix’s face on it.
Some people just get everything in life.
“Thanks for joining us for this late-night broadcast, Felix. We wish you, your family, and this new business venture well.”
“Thank you.”
The screen cuts to the news.
Tears blur my vision. I comb frustrated hands through my hair and dig my nails into my scalp to try and make the skin bleed. How dare he? They think he’s superman, but he’s the devil reincarnated. I remember how weightless I felt earlier with the bikers, and compare it to the terrible dread that plagues my body now. Things change awfully fast, and never for the better.
It was Felix, I know it. Bullwhip said it himself—Felix is a serial killer, and he wanted Paul out of the way to claim what he thinks is rightfully his. The news presenter said it herself—Paul was one of the most successful casino owners. There are over forty-five casinos on the Las Vegas strip alone, and Paul happens to be the one to kill himself? What about the other forty-four owners? The ones with less cash in the bank?
Footsteps crescendo, tightening the ball of nerves in my belly.
Not now.
The door opens, and Felix waltzes in.
“Nice broadcast,” I tell him.
“Thanks.”
“You’re an all-star in bullshitting.”
“Less of the cheek,” he scolds me. “Humor isn’t something you can afford to have right now.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Felix inspects the TV remote on the floor, and squats to pick it back up. “Too pussy to throw it at my face?”
“You killed him.”
“Please.” He extends his hands. “Be my guest and tell the police.”
I tense my face. “This was all my fault, not the bikers’. You didn’t need to call the cops.”
“They broke into my property and assaulted you.”
“They did not .”
“I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you all night, Zoe.”
Why? Because you’ve got more bullshit interviews to do?
“You broke the one thing our marriage is built on, sweetheart.”
“Our marriage is built on nothing but?—”
“Trust,” he interrupts me.
“Why do you care so much?” I ask.
“I will not repeat myself in front of a whore.”
“I am NOT a?—”
“My reputation. You have made me look a fool, and you continue to do so.”
I sink into the mattress. Whatever I say to him right now doesn’t matter. When Felix decides something, he laminates the thought like a document so it can’t be altered.
“Clearly, you think this is funny.” He stands in the doorway with a silhouetted body. “Let’s see how much you laugh when you’re paying Fiona’s grave a visit.”
He quietly exits after that, leaving me on the verge of a panic attack.
My own breath suffocates me, and my throat closes up to let no more air into my lungs. With shaking hands, I grapple at my neck, trying to loosen the skin to suck in just one huff of air but…nothing.
Fiona.
I jump off the bed, locate my phone, and dial her number.
The rings continue.
And continue.
There’s a pause. A crackled, “Hello?”
“Fiona. Oh my god.”
“Are you okay?” she says. “You sound like you’re running.”
“No, not me. But you need to.”
“Run? What? Why?”
I press on. “You need to get away. It’s very important. Do you trust me?”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand why?—”
“Please. Just go. Take a backpack and fill it with water and snacks, and then run toward the desert. You’re fine. Nobody will recognize you.”
“Zoe? What’s happened? Tell me?—”
The line cuts off.
I take the phone from my ear to examine the screen—call dropped.
The world tilts off its axis, and it spins fast.
I retch, but nothing comes out. Of course it doesn’t. I haven’t eaten for hours. Hunger isn’t something my stomach knows how to feel.
I call Fiona back.
Surprisingly, the call is answered on the first ring.
“Oh my god. Fiona? Are you there?”
“What have you done, Zoe?”
Fear crunches my chest. “Father?”
The line dies.