24. Cracking the Code
“Is it just me, or does it look like this house is mocking us?”
I look up. It’s less of a house and more of a damn mansion, sprawling for thousands of feet to both sides in front of us. The stately white pillars and multiple floors look like The White House. It’s hard to believe that regular people live here.
“I guess,” I mutter. I might have had that thought myself, if I had the ability to think of anything other than Faye nowadays.
Alex stops the car in the driveway where five other cars, Lamborghinis and Range Rovers, are packed side by side.
“Looks like he didn’t mind spending her money too much,” Britney mumbles at the sight.
My fingers fold into fists. I’m mad at Brit, but more at the whole situation. It took a lot of convincing from my sister for me to even consider coming here, and now, everything I’ve seen so far makes me resent him more.
We stroll up the gigantic driveway, walk past the stately pillars, and Alex bangs the knocker against the door, an artisanal wooden piece that looks like it belongs in a museum.
A smiling housekeeper opens the door. “Please come in. Mr. Strummer is expecting you.”
Of course, I think bitterly. Half a mile ago, when we pulled up at the gates to the house, the security guards had to call in for us to even be permitted entry.
Opulence assaults the senses from every corner of the lavish interior. Marble floors gleam brilliant enough to admire one’s reflection. Pristine white leather couches adorn the space like stoic sentries. Atop every surface, ornate 16th century vases flaunt their priceless antiquity. On the wall opposite the TV, there’s a family portrait of Mr. Strummer, his wife, and a girl who looks to be Faye’s stepsister.
It’s ironic, I think as I exchange glances with Britney. Faye’s money paid for this fucking monstrosity, and she’s not even in the family portrait.
Faye’s dad is on one of the white leather chairs. A balding man with graying hair and a beard, he’s wearing a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He gives off what someone else might term a genuine smile, but I can’t help recalling several kid shows’ TV villains.
“Please sit down,” he says genially, swinging one leg over the other. “Marie will bring whatever you want. Nice to meet you, Blake. Unfortunately, I don’t know either of you.” He nods at Alex and Brit.
I shove my trembling fists into my pockets. Hearing him speak like we’re old buddies does not help my anger in the slightest. Seeing him look this calm when the whole world knows his daughter has gone missing again isn’t great, either. Every passing moment I don’t know where Faye went is one moment closer to the mental breakdown boiling inside me.
The first couple of days were kind of fine. I left Alex’s place in a haze, managing to give a couple of lame excuses, and texted Faye on the way back home, asking her to meet me. It was a half-hearted message because I was dying to not see her at that point. Seeing her meant having to talk to her about what happened, and I knew I couldn’t handle potentially ending things for good when all I still wanted to do was be inside her.
But I hadn’t needed to make that decision. Faye never replied. Hell, the text never delivered. After a couple more days of checking my phone every other minute, I finally gave up and phoned Kevin.
“You just missed her.” His tone was almost gleeful, as if he was happy about my misfortune. “She was staying here until yesterday, but then she decided she needed some solitude and went off. Don’t even know where to, she wouldn’t tell. Maybe back to Brooklyn? We had creative differences, and she didn’t want me to stop her.”
That started my descent into chaos. Kevin was the only person who knew where Faye was during her first time being a runaway. If he doesn’t know now, no one does.
Unless she started to shack up with one of her fans, maybe someone who appreciated her more than I ever did and started to bed her the same night she arrived in his home.
Thinking about her in another man’s arms fueled my insanity further. Finally, on day five, when I absolutely could not take it anymore, I phoned Brit.
“I expected your call sooner.” Thankfully, she sounded more sympathetic than Kevin did. I admitted that she was right. Five days later, even the internet moved on from wondering where Faye went and started to talk about other matters.
“I can’t sleep,” was my reply. I hadn’t meant to get so personal, but it was the absolute truth. I spent two whole nights awake, staring at my ceiling, both missing Faye and hating her for depriving me of her presence.
Brit, true to form, didn’t wait a single minute to reassure me. “We’ll find her,” she promised. “We’ll track her down.”
Yesterday, we began the search, starting at the cabin, of course. Nothing. I wasn’t really expecting to see her, but we had to tick that box off. I searched around town and went back to the motel where she first lodged at. Once we ruled the town out, I started to get angsty.
The possibility that she isn’t with another man was getting slimmer by the second. I thought of how badly I treated her for the first few days, how I kept backing off even when it was clear that she wanted me. No other man on this Earth would be that foolish. Hell, he’s probably dicked her down so many times by now she’s started to write songs about him.
It was then that I started to hate myself.
Brit called me this morning with another idea. “I know it might be a long shot, but we should try her father.”
“No.” Thinking of how horrible he was to her made me certain I’d punch him if I ever got close enough. Going to jail would not be a fun way to end my hockey career. “She wouldn’t go there.”
“Come on, Blake. No one knows where she is, not even Kevin. You said he threatened her a while ago. Maybe he called her again, and she answered, maybe told him where she was headed? He could know, especially if they are already working out a deal to buy his silence. Because she might have to get him to shut up after all.”
She left the rest unsaid, that the reason Faye might have to buy her father’s silence is that our PR relationship fell apart, and her father could now use that to ruin her career.
And now, here we are. Staring at David Strummer’s smug face and refusing his refreshments. Is he this calm because he knows where she is? A man in danger of losing everything, including this trashy house, would look a lot more worried, wouldn’t he?
“I’m Britney, Blake’s sister. This is my husband, Alex.” Brit takes the lead. “We won’t be staying for long, really.” She waves at the housekeeper, dismissing her. “We just wanted to ask about Faye. If you’ve seen her recently or heard from her.”
My throat tightens. We’re taking a giant risk here. The bastard is smug enough to possibly be recording this conversation.
But I’m that desperate.
His eyes glitter. “Yeah, I thought you’d show up sooner.” He looks at me. “It’s harder to maintain a fake relationship than you’d think, right?”
Growling, I take a step toward him. Alex hastily positions himself in front of me.
“Their relationship wasn’t fake,” Brit says, casting an anxious side-eye in my direction. “We just . . .”
Strummer stands up, ice shards in his eyes. “Britney, is it? I’d rather you leave my house than tell me lies. My daughter and I were on the outs for a couple of months, but I still know her better than you ever will.”
Brit gulps and looks at me for help. I pause, focusing on his sentence. WERE on the outs for a couple of months. Has he reconciled with Faye over the past week? Is she stashed somewhere in this house?
There’s no way to tell. But I’ll make sure my pride doesn’t take the wheel on this one.
“Fine,” Alex spits, eyes darting at me curiously before he continues. “Do you know where she is?”
“Yes.”
That answer almost sends me crashing to the floor in relief. She’s with her father, not some hulking dude I’d have to terminate for touching her. Sure, that has its own problems, but I’ll see her before I start to dwell on that. My eyes, burning from the pain of not sleeping in more than forty-eight hours, lose some of their pressure. Sidestepping Alex, I go straight to him. “Where is she? Here?”
David looks up at me, a coy smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I answered one of your questions. Now, you answer one of mine.”
Damn it, he looks even more punchable up close. “Fine. What is it?”
“What did Faye give you to play along? You know, making a scene in front of the camera after your hockey game? Hell, what did she give you to do this, coming here and pretending you give a shit? I can’t quite figure it out.”
“Why do you care?” Brit sounds disgusted. “You need an explanation for his behavior when you start exposing your own daughter online?”
“I’m not doing anything wrong if I’m telling the truth.” He’s got on his genial smile again. “I know Faye much better than the three of you combined. She’s always had a pathological craving for love and affection. It repels people more than anything. Her fans would know this if they took a second to think. She managed to get this far ahead by convincing them she’s worthy of love. When I know it’s quite the opp?—”
He doesn’t get to say more, because I’ve got both hands clenched around his throat, halfway to squeezing the life out of him. Brit yelps as Strummer tries to beat against my hands, but I barely feel anything. All of the anger and frustration I’ve felt over the past few days is channeling itself through me now, and I’m powerless to stop it.
“You fucking bastard.” I hold on to him tighter with each word. Dimly, I’m aware of the housekeeper screaming in the background and Alex trying to pull me off. “You’ve got no idea where she is, do you? She would never even come to you for help, because she knows what a sadistic fuck you are.”
His red eyes are bulging out of their sockets. “Let . . . me . . . go . . .”
“I’m calling the police!” the housekeeper screams, penetrating my blur of rage. Alex manages to take one of my hands and twist it off him. I let go of the bastard, and he collapses in a heap on his white couch, coughing and gagging.
“I am going to end you,” he screams as he massages his throat, even before he gets to his feet. “I’ve got proof that Faye is lying to her fans again, and I’m going to use it. She’s already halfway helped me by disappearing again. This time, I’m going to permanently put an end to her.”
“She’s your daughter.” I resent Brit for sounding so dignified when all I want to do is throttle him again. Unfortunately, Alex holding me back renders that plan impossible.
“She’s no daughter of mine,” he spits at Brit. “She’s a freaking disappointment who ruined everything good I ever did for her. Who’s trying to damage me for doing my best as a father.”
I wave my free hand in his face, aching to get as close as I can. He wisely backs away, tripping over the couch.
“Do it,” I tell him. “Get your rats to start spreading that rumor about Faye. Hell, release a snippet of this conversation to the world. I’m going to go on my social media accounts and tell the world that I’m in love with Faye. Let’s see who they believe.”
Strummer’s eyes are popping out of their sockets again, this time from genuine shock. “You . . . wouldn’t.” He looks so deeply terrified that it takes a second for me to understand why.
But then, it hits me.
He wasn’t just counting on the idea that Faye was unlovable. He did a hell of a lot of research. He dug enough to learn that I’m averse to romance and have never been in a serious relationship.
His plan did not rest on Faye, but on me. He assumed that once rumors started flying, I’d find a way to extricate myself from the situation.
I hate him even more for thinking that way, but I can’t deny that he was right. Two months ago, before Faye barreled into my life, I would have shuddered at the idea of declaring my love for anyone, even as part of a PR stunt. Hell, a week ago, I would have done the same thing.
But not seeing Faye is driving me crazy. And I’d rather lose everything else than be without her.
“I would.” I can tell Strummer isn’t the only shocked person in this room. “Tell the world we’re lying, and I’m going to deny your claims. You’ll be twice ruined and blacklisted. I’ll be happy to hammer that last nail in your coffin.”
When I walk out of the mansion thirty seconds later, I do it with the pleasure of knowing that I just freed Faye from her father’s tyranny, forever. The pleasure doesn’t last long, however. The moment I slip into the back seat, the reality of not knowing where Faye is crashes over me anew. I bury my face in my hands as a headache rages up a storm in my skull.
Alex and Brit are quiet. I can almost see them exchanging glances, flummoxed out of their minds. I get it, kind of. They’ve never seen me lose control this badly.
I’ve never seen myself lose control this badly, either.
“We’ll find her, Blake.” Brit turns around and reassures me. “She’s laying low somewhere. She’s not dead.”
Oh, I know. But when I find her, she could very well be in another man’s arms, with no use for me.
I can’t even marshal enough thoughts to describe to myself how badly that terrifies me.
“Maybe we should go to Kevin’s house,” Alex suggests. “He did say Faye was living with him until recently. Maybe she has come back.”
There’s silence in the car. Letting out a deep breath, I raise my head up and nod mutely. I feel pathetic being this vulnerable in front of my sister and best friend, but I’m only just starting to realize something.
I’ll do anything for Faye.
In person,Kevin does not hide the depth of his irritation for me. “Honestly, Blake, even if I knew where she was, I wouldn’t tell you. But I don’t. So, there.”
He’s standing in his doorway, arms crossed. Stepping up, I push past him into his living room, ignoring his cry of protest. Alex and Brit are right on my heels.
“Faye?” I yell out, taking in his lime green chairs and organized kitchen. My gaze finds a door under the stairs, and I go straight for it. Kevin screams again as I yank open the door.
The bedroom is a medium-sized guestroom with a bed that hasn’t been slept in. It’s empty, but in it I find the tiniest ray of hope.
Faye’s scent lingering in the air.
“Where is she?” I storm back to Kevin, resisting the urge to grab him by his shirt.
He looks alarmed. He glances at Alex and Brit, no doubt hoping for an intervention, but they give him nothing. So, he turns back to me. “Look, I really don’t know where she is now. She spent three days here.”
“Alone?” It’s scary to ask, but I do it, anyway. I’ve got to know if she’s found someone else.
Kevin wrinkles his nose. “You think I’m going to have her shacking up here with some random stranger? Yes, alone, you fool. Then she left.”
I’m torn between relief and further frustration. “To where?” It takes everything in me to not scream.
“Don’t know.”
“You said you had creative differences,” I remind him. “What did you mean?”
Kevin lets out a frustrated breath. He stares at me evenly for a moment, before he says, “The first two days for her were rough. Heard her crying into the night on both nights. Really nice work, jackass.”
I ignore the jibe, as I’m clinging to every word he says about her. “Go on,” I spit through gritted teeth.
“But then, on the third day, we spoke. She was brutally honest. Said she fell for you, and she shouldn’t have allowed it of herself because she knew you didn’t believe in love. I told her you were the idiot, not her.”
My heart twists in my chest. I kind of agree with that one. Only a moron would let Faye go, and in that manner.
“Then she started talking about the truth. Said that she’s been living a lie to her fans, even if she came out after her wedding saying she wouldn’t do that anymore. Sounded like she was grateful for the heartbreak, you know. Like it helped her find herself, and that she was going to be brutally honest in her next songs about how much healing she’s got to do, and how she’s not come to find herself yet. That’s where we disagreed. Then she took off to organize a show.”
“A show?” For the first time, Brit sounds more concerned about watching Faye perform than helping me out. “Where?”
“Dunno. She wouldn’t tell me because I would have stopped her. Said it was going to be a little thing, you know. That might keep her father off her back, but otherwise, it’s nuts, and I don’t think it’s right . . .”
“I’ve got her father handled,” I mutter mutely. “You never have to worry about him again.”
Kevin stares in shock. He opens his mouth to ask, but Alex speaks first. “We’ll fill you in later. Do you really have no idea where she could be planning to give the show?”
He shrugs. “No. If I did, I’d stop her. I’m guessing it’s going to be soon, though. Maybe even tonight. She plans on telling the world that your relationship was a fake. All I know is that the venue is going to be small.” He gives me an almost sympathetic glance. “Damn. If I knew you’d be this sorry to see her go, maybe my pep talk would have been a little different.”
I know he’s only doing his job, but damn it, I hate him. I’m starting to hate every single person around me, especially since they are no help in getting Faye back.
I think over what he said, unsure of what to feel. Faye isn’t discarding me for someone else, the way I feared. She’s discarding me to find herself.
I don’t know if that’s worse or better.
“You guys interrupted my meeting with my team,” he says. “I’m going to go back to that. Make yourself at home. Or not. Just shut the door when you leave.”
He strides away as Brit turns to Alex. “Can you give us a moment, please? I want to talk to Blake in private.”
Alex does what she asks, and I’m left alone with my little sister. I feel ridiculously like the younger sibling as she directs me to take a seat and looks into my eyes.
“Can we talk about what’s happening, for real?” she says, her tone low. “What has been happening since that night when you gave Faye flowers at her show?”
I look up at her, weary with exhaustion. “What?”
“You’re in love with her.”
Even with how exhausted I feel, I can manage a bark of laughter. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m also right, Blake.” She doesn’t ease up from talking to me like a little kid. “Look at yourself. I’ve never seen you this way. You’re going mad because she’s not here. Volunteering to proclaim your love on social media, words you can never get back. Going all over the place. I mean, why do you want her back this badly? What are you going to say to her when you see her?”
I pause. I have been going crazy for the past few days, and I haven’t even thought of that once.
“I know I brought this up, and you laughed it off. But we really need to talk about something important—how Dad might have shaped your view of women.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then I realize I’m too tired to protest. So, I just let Brit’s words wash over me.
“Look at it this way. You spent years watching Dad be a misogynist. He treated us differently, let you do whatever you wanted while I was stuck at home having to be a doll to earn his love. I’ve broken free of that, but you haven’t. Somewhere in you, you’re worried that if you ever fall in love with a woman, you’re going to start treating her the way Dad treated me, and possibly Mom when she was alive. You don’t want that to ever happen to you, so you’d rather stay away from love altogether.”
Turns out Brit’s words aren’t that easy to ignore. They lay on me brick after brick, almost causing me to double over with their weight.
I think back to that moment at the cabin, hearing Faye say she loved me. I all but blocked those words out over the past few days of anguish, but they come back to me again. She meant it from the bottom of her heart. I could tell.
But I disregarded it like it meant nothing. I said a bunch of shit I didn’t even mean and walked off. But even as I said those words, I knew that I wasn’t telling the truth.
I bury my face in my palms as a shudder runs through me. I’ve spent all of my life believing I had things under control. That I had nothing to do with what our father did to Brit, and it had nothing to do with me.
But Brit is right. Nothing else could explain the paralyzing fear I felt when I imagined having a real relationship with Faye. I already wanted her more than life itself but making it official scared me to death. And not because I was shying away from commitment, like Reggie.
“I don’t want to hurt her.” I don’t mean to say those words out loud, but they come out of me anyway. And once I start, I can’t seem to stop. “She’s already so . . . different. Open. Loved by millions. Every time I think of another man touching her, I lose my damn mind. If she was mine, I’d want to control every ounce of her time.”
I look up at Brit, bracing myself to feel embarrassed. But the emotion that surges through me when I gaze at my sister’s open-hearted smile isn’t shame. It’s peace.
I’m finally letting go of the burden that has plagued me for months now. Maybe ever since Faye fell into my arms on her wedding day.
“Blake, the fact that you’re terrified of controlling her already shows you’re miles different from Dad. I mean, you just almost killed Faye’s father for trying to ruin her life. You’ve done nothing but help her make her own decisions ever since you met, even to your detriment. You’re not going to be Dad, I promise you that. Yeah, you’re going to make giant mistakes, like the one that set us off on this wild goose chase, but you’re going to keep working at it until you get better.”
The peace increases with Brit’s words, suffusing my entire being. I let out a breath, my shoulders crashing as tension recedes from my body.
I have no idea if Brit is right, but I decide to trust her.
“While you chew on that,” Brit says, “can you think about what Kevin said too? A small venue where she might be officially coming out to the world. We might be able to save her from doing that if we get there in time.”
“I don’t . . .” I start, but then I stop myself abruptly. The words replay themselves in my head, and a rock-solid conviction grows in my heart.
I stand up, feeling better than I have in a week. Maybe than I have in all my life.
“I know where she is.”
It’s time to reclaim the love of my life.