Chapter 13 RJ
RJ
Trips is a no-show for the whole second week after Jansen got himself shot. We’d be more worried if we hadn’t gotten Clara’s note. At least he’s alive. But apparently, not well.
I still don’t understand how Clara looked so composed, so at ease whenever one of us brushed against her, how she’d trailed her fingers over the back of my hand, or gripped Walker’s palm when we’d tried and failed to get a note back from her.
It’s infuriating—the woman I love was locked away for a week, and Trips is still caged.
It’s a vicious punishment if Trips’ description of his childhood is accurate.
One that began with Clara killing a man.
The urge to be there for her, to hold her as she processes her latest loss of innocence in pursuit of our freedom, itches like a rash, but it’s impossible.
I ache to wrap myself around her. To keep her close, safe, comforted, alive, and happy.
So many needs, and the only one I can address, besides with a furious hand on myself in the shower, is the long list of dominoes I’m lining up to make this plan a success.
With Jansen out of commission and no way to communicate regularly with Clara and Trips, the plan is already a mess.
My task list hasn’t changed, but it does keep getting longer.
I wish Walker felt the same urgency that I do. Instead, he’s forced me to run, swim, and climb this week, as well as eat more vegetables than I could usually stomach. I know it’s misplaced guilt about Jansen coming out sideways, but three vegetarian dinners in one week is a bit much for me.
I also know that he’s right to push me to take care of myself. Being able to adapt to whatever Trips’ dad throws at us is a key component of our plan, and moving my body is part of that.
It just doesn’t feel like a priority when so many other things have fallen off the rails.
So every morning, I remind myself of that one hazy day in the RV, the fan at the open door doing nothing to cool the tin can down, and promise to stay the course.
The crappy laptop I’d gotten wasn’t able to keep up with me that day as I cycled through one site, then the next, blocking every damn one of them I could find.
Clara climbed into the metal oven with me, the scent of seawater clinging to her.
“Whatcha doing?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, the heat of her barely registering against the heat of the RV.
“My dad,” I said, the anger bright under my skin. “I warned him. You did too.”
She climbed onto my lap, blocking my view of the screen. “RJ,” she said, demanding my attention when it was the last thing I wanted to give her.
I closed my eyes, not knowing what else to do with the panic and rage that lived under my skin, coming out in furious bouts of work squeezed in between the crime lessons Clara had insisted we give each other.
“Tell me what happened.”
I kept my eyes closed, my hands coming to rest on her hips, but I didn’t pull her closer. I wasn’t sure I could right then. “My dad discovered I hadn’t blocked him on online gambling sites.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad. Not yet. But I didn’t check any of their accounts for a few weeks. I figured because he’s been doing so well, I could just leave him be for a bit. Focus on what we have in front of us.”
Her hands came to my cheeks, and I opened my eyes to find her brown gaze meeting mine. “What do you want to do about it?”
“He needs to know I found out.”
“Blocking the sites should be a good sign that you caught him.”
I went to look at the computer, and she blocked my view again. “I should tell him I found out. But there are just so many, Clara. It’s going to take weeks to block all of them, and more pop up every day.”
She’d forced me to look at her. “RJ, why do you think I’ve had you teach all of us the basics? We can help. This isn’t all on your shoulders. Not anymore.”
My breath came in short, angry pants, the need to take control, to do what needed to be done without interference or mistakes almost unbearable.
My frustration must have been easy to read because she slid from my lap, moving across the tiny room.
“I’m not going to force our help on you, RJ.
I already feel like I did that when I unilaterally threatened your dad this winter.
But know we’re all here. We all care. And every one of us would love to help. ”
She took one step down the stairs, the strum of Jansen’s guitar bouncing in through the open door, but stopped before leaving. “You’re not the only one who struggles to give up control. Not by a long shot. But we all need practice leaning on each other if the plan stands a chance of working out.”
“The plan?” I asked, twisting toward her.
She turned back, her dark eyes a riveting mix of scared and resolute. “Why do you think I want us to learn from each other?”
I’d waited, guessing why, but needing her to tell me, to use me as her sounding board, just like she’d promised months ago.
She stepped back into the RV, closing the door despite the heat.
Then she curled up in the seat across from me, tugging on the frayed edge of her jean shorts.
“We’re going to have to go back. We all know it, even if none of us wants to say it out loud.
But we can’t go back blind and broken. We have to have a plan, and we have to adapt when that plan inevitably fails. ”
“You’re trying to teach a group of specialists to be generalists?”
She closed her eyes. “No. That’s impossible.
But Trips’ dad knows all our specialties.
We can’t come at him straight on. He’ll see us coming.
The only way out of this is sideways, RJ.
Right?” She blinked them open, asking, terrified that I might say no.
Or maybe terrified that I’d say yes. I didn’t know. I still don’t.
But what she said made sense, even as I hated the idea of going back, of the inevitable uncontrolled disaster that would come from that choice.
Even if I missed my sisters, Mama’s hugs, and Pops’ laughter.
Even if the food here, while good, didn’t taste like home, and the Mountain Dew was non-existent.
She was right.
And I wasn’t looking forward to it.
But she was correct in thinking that we couldn’t come at this straight. Which meant we needed to learn from each other for whatever plan she had in mind to work. “Fine. I’ll send my dad an email, then you all can take turns blocking him.”
She smirked. “Make it a competition.”
I laughed. “You think that would work?”
“Try it and see.”
I had, and within the week, Walker built a script that scanned for new gambling sites and sent an alert to everyone, making it easy for us to manually block. He claimed he only did it so he had more time for art, and maybe that was half of it. But there was pride in his work as well.
She’d been right. We needed to build these skills.
Just the lifts Jansen taught us have been invaluable.
Reading people is a new skill that makes the social manipulation part of my job easier, even if I’ll never love it or be anything like a natural at it.
But now I have the confidence to at least try.
As much as I hate that she’s in the situation she’s in, that we’re all in, and as much as I miss the heat of her skin against mine, I knew from that first conversation that this was where we were heading.
Clara wants all of us free to make the lives we choose. And if she has to cheat, lie, and throw herself headfirst into danger to make it happen, then that’s what she’s going to do. It’s what she’s been doing since the first time she manipulated the system and put Bryce behind bars.
Putting herself in danger, but trusting us to be her back-up, all to keep us free.
God, do I love her.
Tomorrow, I’ll sit down with Walker and see where his workload is. If he has space in his schedule, maybe he can track the lower-level pedos or monitor my dad while I go after the bigger fish that we need to fry.
It’s a start.
Until then, I’ll keep sneaking over to Black between classes to deliver food and supplies for Emma and Jansen, trying to be what the team and plan need me to be.
Taking chaotic paths and packed buses to lose our tail has become a regular part of our days, and it’s another skill I’m glad I’ve learned.
Even if the man who taught it to me is barely walking right now.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts as my new 10 a.m. Saturday alarm rings, and I immediately text Mattie, hoping for an update.
Hey.
It takes a while, but eventually she answers.
What do you need?
Well, that’s straight to the point.
An update.
Clara’s out, and my father’s been chatting with her more. Archie is still locked up.
Charm and distract was one avenue Clara was hoping to use while stuck in the house. We’ll need some distractions if we’re going to make this happen.
Do you know when your brother will be let out? Is this normal?
It turns out I don’t know as much about my family as I thought I did. I have no idea.
How does Clara seem?
Fine. Quieter and calmer than she was before. Scarier.
Scary? Clara?
Dude, she shot a man like it was nothing. That’s scary. I know enough not to take what my father says at face value, but he said that she’s dangerous, and I have to believe him after that.
Sorry. I know you’re one of her boyfriends.
How does that work anyway? She won’t tell me.
I won’t either.
Spoilsport.
Boundaries.
She sends me a middle finger emoji, and I know that she’s not as traumatized as she probably should be after watching Clara shoot Smith.
Which means as much as Trips and her mom tried to shield her, enough of the violence bled through for her to still be teasing me after everything that’s happened the last few weeks.
Careful, there. My girlfriend is scary, remember?
Mattie falls silent at my joke, giving me time to think about Clara’s smile, her focus, the way she looks at me and makes me feel like I’m important. Like I’m the center of her universe.
I miss her so much.
More than I thought I could miss another person.
I’m not antisocial, but I’ve never had the same drive to join the group that seems so innate to everyone else. If I felt lonely, there was always someone around, both as a kid and now. So I’ve never really missed anyone. Not like this.
But every night, when I finally collapse into bed, my vision blurry from too long spent staring at a screen, she’s all I can think about. And every morning, she’s my first thought.
It’s not just her either. It’s constant hum in the house of four other people living their lives that’s missing.
The sudden interruptions from Jansen, the steady thump of Trips’ fists against his heavy bag late at night.
And Clara, drifting between us like she knows exactly where she’s needed when. And needing us in return.
Needing me.
Mattie texts back, pulling me from my thoughts.
Right, I’m shaking in my boots.
I huff out a breath, hearing the sarcasm.
Let me know if anything changes.
Will do. Off to flirt.
Someday, when all this winds down, I’m going to have to meet Trips’ little sister in person. She seems like the kind of girl who could benefit from a whole slew of big brothers. And if we somehow find a way out of this, that’s exactly what she’s going to get.