23. Bullwhip
23
BULLWHIP
Warren explains that he now owns Paul’s casino, along with Felix.
I play along and pretend like I don’t know this information already. I still don’t know what to do. Which side to take. I thought time would clear some things up for me and blow the answer my way, but it hasn’t.
Felix is blood, and that automatically binds you to a person…doesn’t it?
But how would that explain Zoe?
I have feelings for her that I can’t explain.
I take a step away from Warren and the others, and close my eyes to temporarily escape reality. Too much is occurring at once, and I don’t know what to think.
The others are right—Zoe is in danger and we need to do everything in our power to relight the fire in her soul, but doing that would double-cross Felix, and I like having options.
It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet Felix.
But it also feels like that with Zoe.
And in she struts, like I’ve just manifested her. Her feet fit snugly into a pair of red-and-black Louboutin heels, and they compliment the tight dress that falls to her knees. Black , of course—to pay her respects to Paul. Is that Felix’s doing to play up the sympathy, or her own choice?
“Zoe?” say Wrangler and Poet in unison, both rushing over to her.
I keep my distance.
Makeup brightens her under eyes, but doesn’t eradicate the shadows completely. A few coats of black mascara have been licked over her lashes in an attempt to brighten them, but the actual insides of her eyes look terrible. They’re a blotchy red color, as a result of all the crying.
“You’re beating up the wrong people,” she says. “Felix is gonna kill Fiona.”
“It’s just a threat, darling. Don’t worry about it too much,” says Wrangler.
“Yeah,” adds Poet. “We’re here.”
Then, all three of them turn my way, like they’re waiting for my input.
“He might actually kill her,” I say.
“Wow.” Poet rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m serious.” I close the gap between us. “He’s a dangerous man.”
Zoe’s dark eyebrows lift as she anticipates my next sentence.
She’s not gonna like it.
“He used to kill all the time. I’m talking sometimes several people a day.”
Wrangler’s eyes turn annoyed. “Yeah, you said he’s a serial killer but failed to provide evidence. What’s going on, Bully? Tell us what you saw.”
I turn out of the circle and meet Warren’s poisonous eyes.
He struts over. “I’m gonna have to ask you all to leave.” His gaze diverts to Zoe. “Even you.”
“You’re kidding.” Zoe scoffs. “You’re pointing fingers at the wrong people here.” She folds her arms over her chest. “He’s going to kill Fiona, but you already know that, don’t you?”
No response.
“You answered her phone,” she says.
“This is all on you, Zoe,” Warren tells her. “You were warned.”
“But he’s going to kill her.” This time, her voice falters. “Don’t you understand?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Then help, somehow,” she pleads. “She’s your daughter.”
Warren continues staring at Zoe like he’s impartial to the whole thing.
It saws my chest in half seeing her like this. She’s on the verge of breaking down. Tears glass her eyes, and they look like they’re about to shatter. All she needs is her father. The vein in her neck tightens as she holds back the tears. People are looking. A camera flashes in front of us, so I return the favor and flash them my worst pissed-off face. That turns some people away, but not all of them. Others raise their iPhones and capture my expression.
“Get out of here!” I growl.
A few disperse after that, but not all.
Clusters of people still surround us, and my heart thumps in my chest. I’ve been caught with Zoe, again. I’m cutting bridges with Felix instead of building them. I should be doing the latter.
But I also can’t help but focus on Zoe.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Zoe’s breathing starts to labor, like she’s in physical pain or something. “Say something!” Her hand locks around his wrist, but he flicks it away. “What don’t you understand? She’s your daughter . Fiona needs you.”
“Fiona killed your mother.”
“Fiona,” snaps Zoe, “didn’t ask to be brought into the world.”
“And I didn’t ask for daughters.”
Shock fills Zoe’s face. She backtracks from Warren, and tears no longer cloud her eyes. It’s like, for the first time, she understands. Finally, the truth has been unraveled. She opens and closes her mouth some, like she doesn’t quite know how to respond.
She gives up trying in the end. Just stares, eyes seeing right through her father like he’s made of glass.
An audience gathers, and each individual in the crowd holds their breath.
Finally, after a long, drawn-out silence, Zoe asks, “Why sons?”
“You girls get too emotional.”
That does it. Anger boils my blood, all of it flowing into my right hand as it tightens into a fist. The bastard’s bank account balance might be higher and he might own better clothes, but that doesn’t make him valuable. The media can post whatever they want and make millions from all of the conspiracies—none of it matters.
Nobody treats my Zoe like that.
I step forward, line my fist up with Warren’s face…
Another hand redirects my fist back toward me.
I look at the dude. He’s the same height as me. I’m about to ask what his deal is and kick him in the nuts, but see the “SECURITY” label bold across his chest and think otherwise.
Paul had a different security guard.
He must’ve left after his death.
“Boys and Zoe, please follow me.”
Zoe, still in shock from her father’s words, lets the security guard loop an arm under her armpit to drag her away.
Brain delay is a phenomenon I’m familiar with.
I know what it’s like to have reality flipped on its head too.
“I thought…” she says as soon as we land back out on the strip. “I thought…he still cared. That there was still a soul inside of him.” She places two shaking hands over her face and sobs softly into them.
Another white flash blinks.
“HEY!” I bark. “Out of here. Now !”
The adolescent couple scurry away like mice, cameras dropped.
Poet and Wrangler each wrap an arm around Zoe.
“You can cry about this later,” says Poet. “But first, we have Fiona to sort out.”