Chapter 23
Cece
Back when I had nursing money, I got my hair done every eight weeks. Cut, colour, blowout. I always swanned out of the salon feeling like a million dollars.
My new barber mate Johnny did a phenomenal job, but any million dollar feeling I might have experienced evaporated when he switched off the dryer.
Without that blissful vacuum of white noise, I could hear my phone blowing up.
Three missed calls and a voicemail from Ada, two calls from my mum and a message from Tristan that started ‘Cece, be mature about this…’
That was all I caught before I deleted it. Mature, my ass.
My heart was pounding as I paid Johnny, and I think he was worried I was going to puke again, because he gave me another two bottles of Mount Franklin on the house. I waited until I was on the street and called Ada.
“Hey, Cee. How’s it going, baby girl?”
“Hi. What’s up?”
“The sky,” she laughs maniacally, and I grit my teeth. There’s no way she called me this many times only to make kindergarten jokes.
“Actually, no, things are bad. This is so fucking annoying, and I’m so sorry, but I’ve gotten a flat on some random road. I’m not too far, but I can’t change the tyre.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Of course, Ada would get a flat the first time she ever drove my car. And of course it’s happened now, on the worst day of my life.
“Okay…” I mutter, trying to recall the roadside assistance number.
A sinking feeling hits: I let my membership lapse this year.
Too expensive on top of all the bills piling up at Afterglow.
I think of Davis telling me I have no idea how to run a business, and the sinking feeling reaches ocean depths.
“Sorry,” Ada repeats, still sounding way too chipper considering the situation. “Seriously, I’m so sorry. Can you borrow one of your parents’ cars and come meet me?”
Absolutely not. “No. I guess I’ll… Look, you drop a pin, and I’ll get a rideshare out. It’ll cut into us getting ready for the cocktail party, though…”
Thank God for Johnny of the Blow Dry because at least my hair’s already done.
“Sorry,” Ada repeats. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“It’s fine,” I lie. “See you soon.”
I hang up. A second later, the pin appears on my screen. Ada’s miles away, near the Thompson Farm packing sheds. What the fuck is she doing out there? I thought she was seeing her parents?
If Ada brings the creepiness that is Thrasher Thompson down upon us again, I am going to strangle her.
There’s not enough antiseptic in the world to scour off the filthy grime of his attention.
I almost burnt the bench he sat in and salted the site after he visited Afterglow.
In the end, I asked Krissy to bring in some of her crystals and moon water and cleanse it the next day.
We kept it secret from everyone else, so I didn’t get shit from Davis for being superstitious, but where science doesn’t work, magic has its place.
I order a ride, and when a red Toyota Camry pulls to the curb in front of me, I dive into the backseat.
“Good day?” the driver asks.
“Yeah,” I say, letting out a laugh. “It’s going great.”
I’ve been looking forward to seeing Will for what feels like forever.
Weeks of fantasising and planning and holding on to tonight as a shining beacon of hope that everything would change.
That my life would slide into place, and I could just relax for one freaking weekend.
Just be Cece Taylor, and have that be a good thing, a thing people, Will obviously, but other people too, like about me.
Instead, it’s been a shitshow.
The only bright spot is finding a message from Aggie sent this morning, saying she had roped Des into sorting the rodent situation and it’d be dealt with today.
But even that sends guilt coursing through me.
It’s not her job to deal with that kind of thing, yet I’m so grateful to have someone shoulder one of my burdens that tears press at the back of my eyes.
She shouldn’t have had to help, but she did, and knowing Aggie has my back when my own parents don’t is a new level of discomfort.
I wonder if Davis is there helping Aggie, then realise he definitely isn’t.
Not after the way he stormed out of Afterglow.
My sinking feeling is nearing the Earth’s core.
As angry as I am at his judgmental manager crap, I know he was only trying to help.
I want to call him. Text him. Do something to mend the rift between us.
If Ada were here, she’d tell me to forget him, but she’s not; she’s stranded in the backend of nowhere, and I have to go save her.
But I will. I can do it. I can do anything.
I straighten against the leather seat. This is my weekend. I’ve worked my ass off to have a good time, and come hell or high water, I’m going to. I’m going to kiss Will Sharpe and find my happy ending, and I’m going to have fun doing it. I have decided.
“This you?” the driver asks as we slow down. I peer out the window and see my car and Ada’s dark hair in the driver’s seat.
“Yes, thank you.” I get out, rating him five stars in the app for his merciful silence.
“My hero,” Ada says, hopping out of my car.
She’s beaming at me like she just found religion, which is weird, but I don’t have the energy to address it right now.
I throw her a quick smile and head to the back tyre.
Then I stop. This isn’t a flat. There’s a long straight line right along it. It’s been slashed.
Suspicion prickles up my spine, but Ada doesn’t seem panicked.
She looks almost thrilled. Buzzing. Like this is all part of some grand plan she forgot to loop me in on.
I close my eyes and force my anger away before opening the boot and grabbing the tools and the spare wheel. Tyre changing now, rage later.
Ada bounces beside me as I jack the car up.
“Cecelia Anne Taylor, you’re never gonna believe what I found out.”
I don’t look at her. “Is it about someone slashing my tyre, or is that just a fun little coincidence?”
“Actually, I know it’s bad, but it’s kind of good too because—”
“—No,” I cut in, my knuckles white on the tyre iron. “Save it. I’m sweating through my blowout and replacing a sabotaged tyre in the middle of nowhere. We can talk on the way back to the hotel.”
Ada makes a small, wounded noise but stays quiet. When I’m finished changing the tyre, she helps me lift the damaged one into the boot, along with the tools. Mercifully, my manicure is still perfect. I yank hand sanitiser out of my bag and clean my hands before getting behind the wheel.
Ada jumps into the passenger seat, still smiling like a madwoman. “Okay, so, here’s what went down, Shannon Strom stopped behind me after I pulled over, and he said—”
“Shannon was here? And you didn’t ask him for help?”
“Fuck no! He’s in on it!”
I clench my jaw tight so hard my teeth hurt as I pull out onto the road.
I now have approximately forty minutes to get back to Nikau Palms to transform from a hot-mess mechanic to a glowing goddess for Will, and Ada could have met me at our room half an hour ago if she’d gotten Shannon to change the tyre or at least asked for a ride.
But she didn’t, for some no-doubt batshit revenge reason.
“In on what?” I grind out.
“It,” Ada shouts. “The Thompson Farms scumbag conspiracy turned full-blown crime racket! They’re all in on it! And it’s so much worse than I thought. It’s fucked. And shit—” She grabs my arm. “I need to tell you. Will Sharpe’s in on it, too.”
I shake her off. “The hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve got a recording,” she says, like that explains everything. “Actually, I have a bunch of recordings. But one is from a girl who works on the farm. Grace is her name. Or maybe it isn’t. It probably isn’t, but either way, this conversation is fucked…”
She starts rummaging in her jacket pockets, and fearful thoughts swarm my head. My tyre was carved open. Someone wanted to scare Ada, or punish her, and they used my car to do it because my best friend is acting like an unhinged, renegade cop for no reason.
“Hang on,” Ada says, scrolling her phone. “I’ll play it for you—”
“I don’t want to listen to a recording, Addy!” I burst out. “This is insane. We’re here for a school reunion, and you’re rolling around Pukekohe recording girls who work at a kiwifruit farm? This isn’t Police Ten Seven! What the fuck are you playing at?”
“Cece, Will’s been—”
“I don’t care what Will’s been doing! What are you doing? I thought you came here to support me this weekend.”
“I did, but—”
“But what? You decided it’d be more interesting to start trouble instead? To snoop around Thompson Farms until someone slashed the tyres on my car?”
She flinches.
“Sorry,” I say automatically. “I know it’s not your fault, but you’re the one who told Jake actions have consequences. My family lives here. We used to live here. It’s our hometown.”
“Your hometown.” She lifts her phone. “Look, if you just listen, you’ll understand. This is the most messed-up—”
I hold up a hand. “I don’t. I don’t want to get dragged into whatever weird thing you think you’ve found out, because I’m completely sure there’s a reasonable explanation for all of it.”
“There’s not! There’s one explanation, and it’s that Thrasher Thompson is a criminal cunt and so are all his sleazy mates, including Will fucking Sharpe.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit. You’re just too cock-blind to see it. You never see anything you don’t want to fucking see!”
A gasp escapes me, and I wait, my eyes fixed on the road for Ada to take it back. She doesn’t.
“That’s really low,” I say quietly. “I don’t do that.”
“You do,” she snaps. “You always have. Especially when it comes to dudes.”
“What dudes?”
She places a single fingertip to her chin. “Ooh, I don’t know. How about Will Sharpe, who’s always been a flat-rate asshole? And—”