Chapter 27 I want to faint like a nineteenth-century farmer’s daughter. #2
He scrunches his face. “I don’t want to disrespect your parents, but they really threw you under the bus.
I mean I get it, brand safeguarding and reputation management, yada, yada, but you were their teenage daughter.
Where’s the part where they stick up for you?
Where’s the part where they say your safety is the most important thing?
Where they tell you how much they want you to come home? ”
My brain glitches, and I don’t know how to respond. It’s like he’s speaking a language that I never learned.
“Your fans stuck up for you, though.”
“They did?” I choke out.
He hands over the phone, and I see that he’s right. There are people defending me in the comments, calling Lupe out for baiting me and stating that what happened to Chuy was clearly an accident. They’re taking, or more accurately, they took, a lot of flak for me. I never realized that.
“What’d you do with the puppet?”
I have about eight lies that I’ve rehearsed to respond to this question, but they all seem to stick in my throat. I’m so tired of lying. And Sean seems to see this situation in a completely different light. Could he be even a little bit right? Can I trust him with the truth?
“I…” I hesitate. I’m not sure I know how to do this. Strip myself bare. Give it all away. If Josie Days doesn’t have her secrets, does she have anything at all?
“Hey, you,” he says in a soft voice, and even though they are two of the most bland and nondescript words he could have chosen, somehow, they tear me open.
He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering to lift my chin as his gaze captures mine. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything.”
Warmth spreads through my solar plexus. He’s doing it again. Sean O’Sullivan is working his celebrity crush voodoo on me. Good thing I’m not entrusted with any state secrets.
“I buried it in the cemetery in Naolinco.”
There. I’ve done it. All my secrets are out, loose, rampaging in the streets.
“Thanks for telling me.” He smiles, and for a second, I think he’s going to close the distance and reward my bravery with a kiss, but he pulls back instead and reaches for his disguise. Why? Is he judging me after all?
But, no. Our gondola is slowing to a stop. It’s time to disembark. Numbly, I grab my beard and hook the elastic bands over my ears. My purple sunglasses go back on my face.
The same worker opens our door, eyes shining as he obviously spent the last twenty minutes figuring out who we are.
He asks for a selfie, and I make sure my beard is well-affixed before obliging and then hurry out into the cool night, tugging my sweater around my shoulders.
The air smells dry and raw. I feel the same way.
That was a stupid mistake, telling Sean as much as I did. Another stupid mistake. I’ve managed to stay hidden for so long. Why am I risking everything now?
And is he right about my family? Did they let me down? Was it not all on me?
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Sean asks when I lurch to a halt near a Caesars Palace sign with its blinking, beckoning lights.
“I’m ready to go home,” I say, stifling a shiver in the cool air.
He glances over my head across the crowd. “Look, I’m sorry I figured out who you are. I’ll forget it instantly. As a matter of fact, it’s gone. I have no idea who you used to be. To me, you are only Josie Days. How’d you come up with that name anyway?”
Since I’ve already told him everything else, it seems ridiculous to lie now. “It was the name on the tomb next to where I buried Chuy.”
He freezes. “Is that a joke?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Come on. Let’s get out of here before more people recognize us.”
“You want to leave, really?” he argues. “They’ll talk about us anyway.
They’ve been doing it for weeks now, and I’m the only one who’s figured out who you are, and only because of the clues you gave me.
” Sean tilts his head. “Come on, let’s control the narrative.
Josie and Sean spent a night on the town in Las Vegas. Boy, they look like they had fun.”
“I don’t know, Sean.” I rub my arms, and he takes off his tuxedo jacket and puts it around my shoulders. He catches me eyeing the way his shirt fits him, the fabric pulling over his pecs, outlining the muscles of his arms.
“If I take off my shirt, too, will you come out with me?” With a straight face, he untucks and lifts his tuxedo shirt, showing off the chiseled abs underneath. “These guys are a lot of fun.”
I want to faint like a nineteenth century farmer’s daughter at the sight of that six-pack, but that’ll only encourage him. Instead, I shoot out an arm and pinch him in the ribs, except he’s got, like, zero body fat, so I don’t even get a good one in.
“Geez, what are you, 3D printed?” I complain.
“Ach! That tickles!” He flinches and drops his shirt. “What do you say? Last chance. I’m not gonna beg.”
Behind Sean, the Ferris wheel spins in slow motion as if stretching time itself.
I feel like I’m being stretched, too. A rubber band holding on for as long as it can.
My celebrity crush, Sean O’Sullivan, is right in front of me, within my reach, and we could spend the entire night in Vegas together, if I allow it.
It’s risky. Out here we’re exposed. The wrong person could recognize me, and it would all be over.
But Sean’s got a point. Savannah Bateman, puppet killer at large, is so far down on search lists that she practically doesn’t exist. No one here is talking about her.
No one’s even thinking about her except me.
And maybe I’m not the toxic screwup I thought I was.
It’s a perfect October night in Las Vegas, and Sean O’Sullivan wants to spend it with me… in a tux, no less. Josie Days will never get a better offer in her life.
“All right,” I mutter. “One buffet, two shows, and we play the poker machines until I at least get four of a kind.”
He stifles a smile and laces his fingers in mine. “Yeehaw.”