Chapter 10
Ten
Sugar Skull
That’s twice.
Twice I’ve fucked up.
Twice I’ve crossed a line I can’t undo.
I spared Zee. It wasn’t meant to lead to her dick down my throat and my face in her sweet cunt.
I couldn’t resist it. I can’t resist her.
Pacing the room, I wait for Zee to reappear on my screen.
She’s packing. She wants to leave. But where she goes, I will too, and that’s a fucking promise. How can I end things so soon? We’re just getting close. If I’m leaving this world behind, I’m doing it with her.
Am I wrong for this? I’ve been on the wrong side of things for some time. Is this any different?
Isn’t this better?
Glancing at the screen, she still isn’t back where I can see her.
The last thing I saw was her moving to that closet. Was she checking for clues? Or was she reliving one of the best moments of my life?
My eyes land on my leather jacket tossed over my chair, the blinds casting thin lines of light onto it. What would it take to leave all this behind?
What would it take to leave all this behind with her?
We’d be fugitives, fleeing our past. A past she doesn’t even know about. What the fuck do I do with that? I wasn’t here to call the shots. I signed up to follow orders. For safety. Community. Comfort.
This is far from comfortable.
“Big Brother Ambrose.” The muscles in my neck stiffen when Father’s voice comes from behind me. “Is it done?”
“It will be,” I reply.
“It must be.”
I don’t look at him, but I can feel his eyes on my back with expectation. With orders.
“Why her?” I ask, knowing what I’ll get in response.
“That’s for us to know."
“Thought I’d try my luck."
“Is there an issue, Big Brother?”
Several. The way my cock throbs whenever I see her. The way I lose all sense of sanity when I’m near her. The way I haven’t stopped thinking about how she tastes. The way I want nothing more than to protect her, when my task is to do the opposite.
“None.”
“Then you will complete your task in twenty-four hours."
He leaves the room, my mind running the calculations of what his words mean.
That’s not a sentence. That’s time. It’s enough to get her out of here.
I can’t let them have her.
Can’t you?
A scream fills the room.
Her scream.
It strikes my chest as I rush over to the screen.
My eyes dart around the grids, but … I still don’t see her. My grip tightens on the chair behind my desk.
Where the fuck is she?
If anyone harms my angel, it’ll be their end.
Zee
My hand shakes as I pull it to my mouth.
His eyes are wide open, but he’s far from alive.
This was the smell.
My decaying father sits in front of me. A man I haven’t seen in years.
I used to think seeing his dead body would fill me with gratification. Happiness. The delicious taste of revenge. But I don't know if this is better than finding him alive.
My eyes dart around his body, my hand pushing against my mouth as vomit rises to the surface.
He looks like me.
Is this my fate, too?
A shiny silver knife sticks out of his abs, pointed right at me.
It wasn’t a suicide.
It was murder.
My eyes rise to his head.
Whoever left him here left a mark. Right between his eyes.
My eyes narrow on it, something burned into his skin like a waxed stamp.
It’s a symbol.
A crest.
Where have I seen it before?
A melody fills the air.
I jump.
It’s the alarm from my phone upstairs.
My shoulders fall. I know what that means. My first shift at the Insectarium is in thirty minutes.
I thought I’d be on the road by now. I would've sent Lola a message I drafted, turning down the position. The scholarship.
Lola.
Stumbling back from my father’s body, the room blurs as I make my way to the stairs. I can hardly pull my body up each step, my legs as heavy as my breaths. Gripping the rail, I will my body to keep moving until I’m back in the bedroom, stopping the alarm.
With a shaky hand, I tap Lola’s name and place the phone on speaker mode.
With each ring, my stomach tightens more.
What will you say?
How will she react?
Will she think you did it?
“This is Lola,” she answers, bright and welcoming.
“Lola, it’s Zee. Do you have a minute?”
“Zee!” She sounds delighted to hear my name. “Everything okay?”
My mind spirals.
Do I just jump right into it?
Do I say there’s a dead body?
What if she calls the cops?
What if everyone thinks I killed my father to get the house?
What if they find my record?
“Zee?”
Closing my eyes, I listen. A car passes by. Birds chirp. Lola’s voice.
I find my words. Some of them.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, about the insectarium,” I lie. “I was cleaning up my father’s house and found a bunch of … food. Insect food!” God, I sound suspicious. I steady my voice. “I’m not sure if we can use it. Do you have a moment to come check it out?”
“Sorry, Zee, I’m in Albany with Kon sourcing for an exhibit. But you can ask Atlas. He should still be there." A man calls her name in the background. "Zee, I gotta go. Good luck today!”
“Wait, I—”
Lola ends the call, leaving me staring at her text. Atlas’s number.
While Lola is easy-breezy, Atlas is ... different. Kon would be my next choice, but that’s not an option.
I take a beat to think.
Atlas is a man of few words, so maybe he won’t ask too many questions. Maybe he won’t think it’s me. These guys knew my father. They would at least care to know he was murdered.
Right?
“Zee?” Atlas sounds surprised to see my call, his voice deeper and smoother over the phone. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I spit, cringing. “I mean, yes, I, uh, need some help.”
“Your shift starts in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, but I—” My throat closes in before I push out the same bullshit I told Lola. “I need some help carrying some food I found in my dad’s closet to the Insectarium. Lola said you’re still there.”
“Is it the right food? Can you take a picture?”
“No!” The thought of taking a photo of my dead dad makes my stomach coil.
A pause. “Why not?”
“Uh … my phone’s broken.” That’s not a full lie. My flashlight’s broken. My camera isn’t. “I’m not far. Remember?”
“Can you tell me what’s on the label?”
“There is no label.”
“What does it look like?”
“A box of food?”
“From where?”
My hand slaps against my thigh. “Can you just get here?”
Another pause.
“Okay.” The call ends.
I don’t bother putting on more clothes. Instead, I crawl back into bed and curl up under the comforter. I'm too afraid to go downstairs and face my dead dad again.
I'm too afraid that Sugar Skull will reappear. The man who ate me out to the gods. The man who killed my father, and then ate me out to the gods.
Did Sugar Skull know about me?
Is that why he brought me into the closet?
How long has he been watching me?
What came first? My father’s death or his clear obsession with me?
Great, Zee. Of all the men you could sleep with, you chose the one who killed your father.
I groan. I can’t even afford therapy.
Turning to my nightstand, half of a joint still sits in the vintage ashtray. I’m like a wasp to sugar, lighting it. By the time I take a couple of puffs, my muscles relax, the harsh thoughts turning into softer realities.
“Okay, Zee,” I mutter, finding a calm stream of thought.
There’s a dead body in my closet. It’s my father. Sugar Skull killed him. So I need to do two things.
One, find out who killed my father.
And two, find out who Sugar Skull is.
Cree-ak!
My body stills.
“Zee?”
Atlas.
My shoulders fall.
When I make my way downstairs, Atlas stands in the kitchen.
He straightens up when he sees me, blinking. Without his lab coat, he actually has some style. He’s sporting neutrals, browns and beiges. An oversized sweater rolled to his elbows, tucked into the front of high-waisted slacks. It complements his gold frames and crystal-white sneakers.
His eyes drag from my bare toes to my messy coils.
Heat fills my cheeks.
I'm still in my oversized sweatshirt, and I likely smell like Snoop Dogg. But I have bigger things to worry about.
“How did you get in?” I ask.
He clears his throat, his eyes meeting mine. “The door was open.”
My eyes snap to the door.
I know I closed it last night, after Sugar Skull left.
Did he come back?
“You’re not ready for work.” Atlas leans against the kitchen counter like he’s in an ad. His hands push into his pockets as he crosses his ankles. “Are you quitting?”
I ignore his question. “Can you look in that closet and tell me what you see? 'Cause I might be losing my mind.”
His thick brows furrow. “You mean the food?” He starts moving towards the closet. “This way?”
I nod, my grip tightening on the rail as Atlas moves closer to the door.
He glances back at me. “Zee, are you okay? You're a little shaky."
My heart pounds when he disappears out of sight. He must be really close now.
Creeak.
I hear him open the door.
“Where’s the f—Fuck!”
Something clatters to the floor.
My eyes squeeze shut, reality slamming into my chest.
I'm not losing my mind.
It’s real.
My dead father is in the closet.