Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JJ (Josh)
“Well, guys, this is where we turn back,” I tell Soren and Rett. High time to admit Tullis covered his tracks well.
Someone needs to remind me why I had to join the contingent that came to Italy, or why I thought Bizzy coming along was a good idea. What started as a winter break abroad has become a disaster.
This hasn’t been a quick side quest in the name of the Eights, followed by some relaxing downtime. It’s been Hart ordering everyone around, Soren rabidly following him, Deo overdrinking. It’s been fucked.
When Biz returns to the table with a stunned look on her face, I’m even more convinced it’s time to leave.
“All good, darlin’?”
Rett notices Hart is missing. First Deo, now Hart. Will we find him ass-up in a fountain too?
The server stops at the table, speaking Italian to us. Hart appears, smiling warmly at her, “Tutto è così perfetto.” He pays the bill.
I’m not loving how pleased he seems with himself.
On our walk to the cars waiting for us, he says, “I don’t have the energy to carry on pointless conversations with people.”
“Have you ever met anyone more difficult than you?” Bizzy snaps at him.
“You’re up there,” he responds.
Oh. No, I don’t like this.
From our lunch, Deo’s driver suggests we speak to a “fixer” who runs criminal activity in the area. My immediate thought is that Tullis wouldn’t associate with anyone like that. But I don’t get a say.
“Leave us out of it. We’ll go back to the Cortinis,” Rett backs me up.
Hart glowers at us.
On the drive back, the countryside has Bizzy’s attention, but my mind is elsewhere, mulling over what Rett and I already know. Henry Tullis came to Italy to hide a “treasure,” one we believe was a cipher.
An act he may have given his life for. One we could be placing our lives on the line for, too. I’m getting more and more upset about Hart not leveling with us before the trip. I would never have asked Bizzy to come along.
Rett and I would’ve found a way out of it, too.
Delivered to the sweeping steps of the Cortini estate, Rett, Biz, and I circle the main hall. Bizzy chuckles to herself, pointing to a shiny tray set on a side table. “Rich people are weird. Here’s a tray. Put nothing on it. But respect it… revere it. Like what?”
I didn’t grow up monied or with a prestigious name either.
But during my time at Rockefeller Amherst, I’ve become acquainted with the lifestyle.
I see what’s underneath the sheen of wealth: the problems, the seediness.
Not that the luxurious homes, fancy vehicles, or trips don’t affect me.
I can be impressed by it and still unmoved at the same time.
It’s been hours since I could hold Biz or touch her. I find myself gravitating to her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, resting my head on hers, craving her touch, her reactions to mine. I wouldn’t even mind seeing her respond to Rett.
We hear Rett shout from down the hall.
“Fuck, fuckity, fuck… I’m fine, it’s okay!”
He’s picking up the pieces of a broken sculpture when we find him. “It may be safer to retire to our rooms?” Bizzy says, kneeling beside him and helping gather the porcelain fragments.
“I think the Cortini family won’t be offering to let any more Rock Am students stay here after this,” I say. “Do you think their house manager called about Deo’s swim? Or is it just another winter break… who knows…”
Back in the suite of rooms, replete with a seating area, two large attached bedrooms, and a bathroom sporting a jacuzzi, we all breathe a sigh of relief. I walk Bizzy backward, kissing her jaw. “Finally…”
Full body chills.
Rett pulls his shirt off.
“I like where this is going,” Bizzy says, breath catching in her throat.
I’m focused on helping Biz out of her blouse and pants, my attention locked on her. Rett moves in beside her to undo her bra as she slips off her underwear.
With every layer gone, the air between us shifts, the anticipation feels like an exquisite high.
She leans forward over the back of the luxury European sofa, bracing herself and opening up to us without hesitation. Rett moans. “Oh. My… ever loving…” In record speed he has a condom on.
I move in closer, kneeling on the sofa in front of her, dragging my mouth over her pretty tits and giving them the attention they deserve, using my teeth to lightly play with her nipples.
Dear God. All of this.
I lean back to watch Rett take her from behind, admiring the way her body flushes as she holds tightly to the sofa, bracing herself.
I stroke myself lazily, until I can’t keep my hands away.
As they both cum, I swallow her cries down with my kiss, slow enough to make her shiver, letting her feel exactly where my focus is.
Blissed out, Rett blurts out, “At the shop yesterday, I got three cans of chocolate whipped cream. Had no idea what I was going to do with it. Who cares? Important part… I have whipped cream. In my room. In the mini fridge.”
“Go… now.” I tell him. Barely separating from Bizzy’s lips.
Ten sets of fooling around. That’s what I want… no endless… endless rounds.
I don’t behave this way. This isn’t like me…
It wasn’t until Biz.
There’s whimpers, growls, clapping, so much clapping…
And afterward, we’re left with one hell of a sticky mess we’re going to owe the Cortini staff heavy tips for. Definitely a new fan of whipped cream from head to toe.
Taking a break, we make sure the drapes are shut and keep our clothes off. I would’ve expected it to feel weird being naked around one of my best friends, but there is no awkwardness. Zero.
It might be that we’re so in tune to Bizzy that being undressed doesn’t even register. It just… doesn’t matter.
I love how silly she can be, not thinking I’m weird for joking around.
“Might I suggest this one, good sir? It delights the palate extensively and reflects the nectar of the gods.” She runs a cold soda down my thigh. I suck in a breath.
“...its sharp and merry tang awakens the spirit as though a court jester hath leapt within one’s very soul,” I reply, making her giggle.
Hart’s waiting for me when I come downstairs. Freshly showered, satisfied… for now, and happy as fuck. Until I see his face, that is.
“Follow me.”
We walk into the sitting room near the front of the house. An older man in a suit is standing next to Soren and Deo.
“Meet Dr. Scott Wiley,” Hart introduces him. I shake his hand, perplexed by the visitor.
Settling into chairs, the doctor starts, “I knew Henry Tullis. Well. We were both Alumni of Rockefeller Amherst.” He’s American?
I want to know how they unearthed this guy. I want to know why we should believe, or trust, a word he says.
He goes on to say, “Last summer, Henry and I got together with some of our old classmates. I want to say before I go any further… I don’t have proof of what I’m telling you. Just well-researched rumors.”
He picks up a briefcase, pulls out a leather-bound book.
“I was part of an organization called the ‘Society Article.’ There was no photographed student listing other than ours… and it’s not complete.
It only contains the more active or popular students.
” He shrugs. “I also need to mention that, before I show you this… I was sent to meet you by Dr. Samuel Hunt.”
Oh, the mad professor we met with. Swell news.
Soren tells him to continue on.
“Henry slid a key under my door on the last night of the get-together with a note. It said, ‘Give this to Hart Crawford.” He’s a current student at Rock Am.”
Likely because Hart is the current scribe.
Hart holds up the key. “The note doesn’t give me much.”
Deo asks the doctor, “Did he tell you… anything?”
He’s trying to find out if he leaked any word about the House of Eights, but Deo knows better. Tullis wouldn’t have lasted for months after that if he had.
I pick up the tome, flipping through the pages. The dated pictures make me chuckle.
“Oh, ‘80’s Aquanet, hello.”,
“Oh, look, tan in the shade of a hate crime.”
Until I see a picture that steals my breath away.
I have to do a double take. Slapping the pages shut, I hold the book but don’t say a word.
What the hell? Oh my God... what the damn hell?
I can’t focus on what he’s saying. The picture knocks me completely off balance. Rippley’s warning comes to mind.
No. Not Bizzy.
“...rumors. There is no proof. But it wouldn't be a secret society if you could prove it existed.”
Deo ushers Dr. Wiley out. I’m still clinging to the book he brought along. No one seems to notice, or care, that he leaves without it.
I’ve never actually seen a picture of E.B. Houseman. Elizabeth Houseman.
Hart sits down beside me. “Crazy how much they resemble each other, huh? Now we do the right thing.”
The right… oh my God, I’m going to be sick.
“I didn’t want to say anything around Wiley, but Tullis gave a clue where the cipher is,” Hart continues.
“Oh, wow.” I don’t want to hear anymore.
I want to close my eyes and wake up to find out this is just a nightmare. Just a bad dream.
Rett finds us. “Told Bizzy I’d find out about dinner plans.”
Deo steers him out of the room, whispering. He could be telling him about the picture or planning some drunken debacle for all I know.
I can’t think straight.
Soren pats me on the back. “It’ll get sorted.”
That’s what he has to say about this?
Still clutching the book, I follow Soren and Hart to the library, where they start debating the phrasing of the poem Tullis left behind, or what it means.
I’m not listening. I’m fighting back tears.
When Deo comes back he hands me a shot. “You look like you need it, man.”
Where did Rett go?
I don’t ask. I just down the shot. Hart picks up the dark liquor on a side cart and pours me another.
Time passes as they argue over where they think the locations are… the fountain, the green. I couldn’t care less.
Food is set in front of me. I push it aside, pouring myself another drink.
I can’t do this. I can’t do what I need to.
When I stand to go back to my room, to find Rett and to see Bizzy, I can barely stay upright, much less walk. I plunk back down into the chair.