Chapter 25 #2
“Hang fire,” Jake says as he closes the passport and opens the next one, shuffling the precious documents like cards. He does it quickly, flipping each open to show the inside page, the name, the photo. “Grab the folders on the bottom shelf, Col. Quickly.”
Colin does as he’s told and starts holding up pages so Jake can record them between passports. It’s hard to make out anything on the tiny phone screen, but bolded words jump out at me. PAYROLL. ACCOMMODATION. INCIDENT REPORT.
I press a finger to my lips, terrified and awed as Jake sears the pages into evidence.
“We need to go,” Mrs. Muldoon says tightly. “You said five minutes, and it’s been five minutes—”
“Over here,” Colin urges. The camera turns to show a corkboard covered in photos and more Post-It notes. “Might be something good here.”
Jake steps closer to it. “Shit, there’s a picture of my old coach—”
“That’s enough,” Mrs. Muldoon snaps. “We need to leave.”
The screen goes black.
I hand the phone back to Jake, my head buzzing. “Fucking hell.”
“After that, we just shut the safe and walked out. Said goodbye to Marty, the security guy, and bailed. Got back in the car with Davis, drove Mrs. Muldoon to her house, and Colin to his car, and now I’m here.”
I picture the stacks of passports, and my stomach knots. “I can’t believe… I mean, I can, but it’s so insane to actually see it.”
“You’re right.” Jake agrees. “I can’t believe his passwords were taped to his desk, but he’s always been a dipshit. Anyway, what did you think of our work?”
“I think,” I say, my mind still on the passports. “that I know where Betty gets her toughness from. Mrs. Muldoon was amazing.”
“She was.” Jake tilts his head. “Just her?”
I laugh as I realise he’s waiting for a compliment he undeniably deserves. “You were amazing, too. You should have been an actor.”
“Pretty enough for it,” he says, scrubbing his nails on his chest.
I’m too impressed to tease him. I lean to kiss his cheek, and he turns to meet my lips with his. We fall back onto the bed, but before we can get into anything good, our phones ping.
“Betty?” I ask.
“Must be.”
We break apart to find matching texts from Betty:
The corkboard was covered in passwords, dates, lists of contacts. Colin’s a gem for getting you to film it, Jake. I think I’ll have enough in the next couple of hours. Stay awake. I’ll call.
Jake grins. “Guess there’s nothing to do but find a way to pass the time...”
“Any ideas?”
His smile fades, and my stomach sinks. I know where he’s about to steer us, and I don’t want to go there, but we can’t dodge the conversation forever. Besides, it’s probably better to iron out the nastiness before we blow Thrasher’s business to shit.
“Hang on.” I grab my vape and crawl back into bed. “Before you say anything, I owe you an apology.”
“Baby, you’re the one who deserves—”
I raise my vape like a stop sign, and he goes quiet.
“I do. You’re not perfect, but neither am I. Something I conveniently forgot when I was screaming about how you’re the worst person on earth.”
He laughs.
“I do wish you’d been my friend at school. And I do wish you hadn’t gone near Jenny, but I can’t pretend I didn’t make things bad between us. I know I can be difficult and stubborn and hard to get close to—”
“You’re not. You’re perfect. Incredible, smart, brave—”
“Don’t.” A sob catches in my throat. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you love me. I’m saying I’m a red-blooded, Italian, Autistic woman, and I don’t make it easy sometimes. On purpose and by accident. But nothing about that is your fault. Or anyone else’s fault.”
Jake pulls me into his chest, and I let myself relax into him.
“I think it might be at least a little bit your parents’ fault, baby. Not to talk out of line.”
I choke out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I’m still sorry for acting like a dickhead.”
Jake sighs. “You’re not a dickhead. Now about the shit with Jenny, Ada, I—”
“I don’t want to talk about Jenny,” I say quietly. “Not forever, just not now. I don’t want her sucking up more oxygen when there’s so much going on.”
I feel Jake nod.
“As long as you know she’s not half the woman you are. Not a fraction. I’m gonna wish I hadn’t gone there for the rest of my life.”
“That’s okay,” I say, my heart sinking. “Remember when you asked if I ever regretted hooking up with anyone?”
Jake stiffens. “Yeah.”
“Well, I do.” I tumble off his chest to look him in the face.
“One guy in particular. And being reminded of that today was one of the things that made me realise I was being unfair to you about Jenny, because I’m going to regret being with this person forever, and I’d hate for you to hold it against me. ”
“I won’t,” Jake says at once, then frowns. “Who is he?”
I groan, knowing I’m going to tell him, that I have to tell him, but wishing I could do anything else. This is almost going to be as bad as ’fessing up to Cece.
“He’s local. And a total knob. It’s really embarrassing…”
“Renaldo?” Jake’s voice is firm. “Out with it. C’mon, it can’t be worse than Jenny Wallis.”
“No one’s worse than Jenny Wallis.” I grimace. “It was… Uh… God, this is hard to get out… It was Cece’s brother. Ages ago.”
Jake doesn’t look relieved. Jake doesn’t even look angry. He looks like I just said, “Actually, it was a four-way with Thrasher, your deadbeat dad and a dude who crank-calls the parents of kidnapped children.”
“Tristan?” Jake spits. “Tristan Taylor?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it sucks that I did stuff with Cece’s brother, but—”
“It’s not that,” Jake says through clenched teeth. “He’s my best mate. Was my best mate. Back at school. He was pretty much the only person in Pukekohe who knew how I felt about you. I told you about it, remember? He was the one who stopped me from going to New York to find you.”
My blood goes cold, but I know I don’t remember Jake saying ‘Tristan.’ I get a shiver down my spine whenever anyone does. Then it clicks. “T-bone? You call him T-bone?”
“Yeah.” Jake pushes himself out of bed and starts pacing. “When the fuck did he make a pass at you?”
“I…”
“I’m not mad at you,” he snarls. “Not even a little bit. I love you. But Taylor’s in a world of shit. When did he come after you? How?”
“He never paid attention to me when I lived here. He first started messaging me when I was at Juilliard—”
Jake’s face twists. “That was when I couldn’t shut up about you. I was crushed you’d disappeared from school, and I told Tris everything. How much I liked you. How bad I wanted a chance. That fucking prick.”
He slams a balled fist into his chest, and I flinch.
“Sorry,” he says. “I swear I’m not mad at you. Please just say when it actually happened?”
I fold my shaking arms across my chest. “London. He came to see my show. He said he was single, and we got drunk and ended up at his hotel.”
“Mother-fucking—”
“But we didn’t have sex,” I say quickly, wanting to soften the blow. “He couldn’t get it up. Anyway, we barely did anything and then…”
“What?”
I wince. “He took a call from his girlfriend in the bathroom, and I realised he’d played me for a sap. I felt like a complete idiot and left. And that was it.”
Jake makes a noise like a walled-off German Shepherd. “That everything?”
“No,” I groan. “He’s here this weekend. In Pukekohe… and he’s been texting me, asking to meet up.”
“I swear to Christ—”
“I haven’t replied. But now Cece knows, and that’s officially it. I don’t like him. I don’t respect him. I fucked up, but believe me, I never want to talk to Tristan Taylor ever again.”
“You didn’t fuck up. He fucked up. I’m gonna fuckin’…” He turns, stomping his way to the bathroom, then back, muttering under his breath.
I perch on the edge of the bed, my arms still wrapped around me. “Do you think he tried to hook up with me because he knew you liked me? Like, it made me more valuable to him?”
Jake stops dead. “No, baby. Don’t ever think that.”
“But—”
He kneels in front of me, takes both my hands. “Taylor’s always been a petty little bitch—”
I look away, ashamed.
“But you’re stunning. Maybe he didn’t see it at school, but that’s on him. Although—”
He launches back to his feet and resumes his trek from bathroom to bed. “When was this in London? How old were you?”
“Uh… Twenty-two?”
Jake curses a blue streak.
“Why does that matter?” I ask.
“Because he was with Caroline then.”
My stomach knots so tight I think I might throw up. “I know, but he told me he was single.”
“Of course he fuckin’ did.” Jake rakes a hand through his hair. “I knew he was fucking around on Caroline. He told me himself. But I never thought… God, I’m such an asshole.”
“Hey, you didn’t make Tristan cheat! It’s like you said to me: that’s on him.”
“It’s not.” Jake sits on the far side of the bed, elbows on his knees, palms pressed into his eye sockets. “I’m such a cunt. All these pricks I called my mates. All this shit that happened while I looked the other way. Nan would be so ashamed if she knew. I’m so fuckin’ ashamed.”
I crawl across the sheets and place my hands on his bare shoulders. “It’s okay, Jake. I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s not like you did anything wrong by being on friendly terms with a guy you barely see.”
“I’m a prick,” he mutters into his palms. “I’m just like all those people at the farm who knew what Thrasher was up to and didn’t say shit.”
“No.” I snap. “Cheating isn’t the same as what Thrasher’s doing at that farm. And you’d never have looked the other way over stuff like that, would you?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” I kiss his back. “It’s a fuck-up, that’s all.
Just like how I never told Cece about Tristan.
I never told Caroline, either. I don’t know what we owe other people in these situations, but I think it’s okay not to know how to handle things.
And I don’t think you’re a bad person for being mates with Tristan. ”
Jake lifts his head. “So you still wanna be with me?”
I blink, baffled. “Of course. That was the whole point of me telling you. Coming clean. Pobody’s nerfect, and all that.”