Chapter 23
Chapter 23
Jane stares at Lyle’s entire face for the first time that evening. He’s even younger than she thought—his cheeks are baby smooth; his eyes barely even crinkle when he smiles; but more surprisingly, he doesn’t look even the slightest bit familiar. Is he a friend of Sissy’s that she can’t remember meeting? Or maybe even Josh’s? She racks her brain trying to place him.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you!”
Oh. Since Jane’s mouth is taped, she merely cocks her head like a parrot. So she hasn’t met him before? How does he know her?
“It’s me! Kyle!” he says, jutting his chin forward, as though he expects she’ll recognize him at any second.
Jane has a number of thoughts, the first one being that changing one letter in your name, from Kyle to Lyle, for a covert nickname doesn’t seem like too much of a stretch, or too bright, to be honest, if you’re trying to go undercover. The second: she still has no idea who this person is. She tries to say Who? but the duct tape muffles her word, transforming it into a grunt.
“Kyle Conner! The new publicist at Jar House! We’ve been emailing,” he says, as if this explains it all.
Jane continues to stare at Lyle’s face while piecing this news together. She vaguely remembers a new name on the author email updates she was getting from her publishing team, but under duress (ha!) she never would have been able to produce the name Kyle. She barely even skims the few emails she receives from Jar House every year, because what’s the point? They didn’t want her latest manuscript, and Tea Is for Terror is so old no one cares about it anymore (if they ever did in the first place). But none of that explains what the new publicist from her old publishing company is doing here. Or the fact that he’s apparently part of—what did Sissy call them?—an underground environmental activist group . She waits for him to say more words, to explain, but he’s staring at her expectantly as though she is going to say something. Then, as if it’s just occurred to him why Jane’s not talking, he reaches up and rips the tape off her mouth in one swift motion.
“OUCH!” Jane yells, the skin around her lips smarting from the sting.
“Sorry about that.”
Jane has a thousand questions, but the first one that comes out of her newly released mouth is: “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three. I know, I have a baby face. I started Botox at twenty and I probably overmoisturize, but the best wrinkle is the one you never get, amirite?” He winks.
Jane has no idea how to respond, so she doesn’t.
“Anyway, like I said in my email, your book—it’s brilliant! Completely lends itself to this kind of guerrilla marketing.”
“What…what are you talking about?”
“This was all my idea! I mean, your idea. Our idea. Once you’re on the news, having survived a terrorist attack, just like in your book , it’ll go viral.” He shrugs. “Or it won’t. There are no guarantees with that kind of thing, but I have an excellent track record. That’s why Jar House hired me. Kind of a last-ditch effort to save the company. If I can make just one book a bestseller, they won’t have to shut their doors.”
Jane goes a bit lightheaded as she absorbs this information, processing it in slow motion, like she’s had too much to drink and her brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. She hears all the words coming out of Lyle’s—er, Kyle’s—mouth, but she’s having trouble sorting them. Guerrilla marketing. Going viral. A track record? He’s twenty-three . “I don’t…understand,” she says, even though she’s beginning to.
“How do you think Brick got your book, silly?”
“ You gave it to him?”
He nods triumphantly.
“You coordinated…all of this?”
“Well, no. Brick really ran with it once I planted the seed. You know how some men are—you have to let them think it’s their idea.”
“Wait, is he with Jar House?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“I’m sorry…” She closes her eyes for a beat, the way she does when she feels a monster of a headache coming on. “I’m not sure I’m following. So this is all for…publicity? None of it is real?”
“Oh, no,” Kyle says, frowning. “This is definitely real. Force of Nature is aptly named. Whew. I didn’t know how serious they were when I joined. I thought it was a peaceful protest group—you know, chain yourself to bulldozers at new pipeline construction sites, that sort of thing.”
“Wait, did you join just for this? Because of my book?”
“No! No, I joined about a year ago. I have serious climate anxiety—I actually don’t know how anyone doesn’t. The world is literally on fire and I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing, you know? But.” He says the word in a singsongy voice, like he’s a character on a children’s educational program. “I also have to make a living, and turns out I have a knack for marketing. Anyway, Brick’s been trying to plan something for months, and when I found your book, the idea hit me and BAM! Two birds, one stone, you know?”
“So…this was all your idea,” Jane repeats. She feels like she’s playing that cup game where the person is moving the cups really quickly, and she can’t quite keep up with where the ball is.
“Oh, stop, it’s your idea, too!” He waves at her modestly, as though he doesn’t want to take all the credit.
Jane is horrified. “People have been shot! That chef could have died . He could still die!”
Kyle makes a sucking sound with his teeth. “Right. Yeah. That was…unfortunate. Who knew Isaac was such a wild card? Wouldn’t be surprised if he had a pile of dead bodies somewhere. Oh, and the bomb, too! None of that was supposed to happen.” He frowns and pulls his lips back in an exaggerated cringe. “Yikes. And Brick really has it out for Otto—didn’t realize it was so personal. That’s a plot twist, huh? Anyway, so glad I was able to get you out of there.”
“Why? What are they going to do?”
“Who knows? Who cares? Not my problem anymore.”
“But the end of my book! Is that what they’re planning?”
Kyle looks at Jane blankly. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean what do I mean? If they’re following my book, are they following the entire thing?”
“What happens at the end?”
“You have got to be kidding me! I thought you said you read it!”
“Oh! No, you misunderstood. That’s not actually my job. I just have to find a way to market it. I skimmed the important bits.”
“But you said it was brilliant! If you haven’t read it, how do you know it’s good enough to market it?”
He laughs as if Jane has told a clever joke. “Oh, you’re adorable. Books don’t have to be good to sell. They just need a catchy hook, a good cover, and the most important part—visibility. Once you and your book cover are everywhere , people will buy it. And it’s my job to make sure it’s everywhere.”
He glances back at the door. “We don’t have much time. Isaac’s going to figure out there are no more zip ties and will eventually realize he can use duct tape.” He puts a hand up to the side of his face in an exaggerated stage whisper. “Between you and me, I don’t think he’s the brightest bulb, which worked to our advantage in this instance.” He reaches for the piece of tape hanging off the side of Jane’s face. “I’ve gotta put this back on you. Sorry.”
“Wait!” Jane yells, and Kyle freezes. “Why aren’t you letting us go?”
“You can’t leave, silly. If you leave, this will all be for nothing. The police have to find you in the van. That’s why I called them.”
“ You called the police?”
“Of course! Cops equal news vans, and news vans equal—” He looks at Jane to supply the word.
Jane stares at him blankly.
“Visibility!” He grins. “Anyway, I’ve got to run before that Isaac gets back. Boy, he’s got a few screws loose.”
“Wait!” Jane screeches. “My daughter’s in there!”
Kyle looks stricken. “She is? But the gift card was a reservation for two.”
“ You sent the gift card?!” Jane turns to Dan. “I thought you said you won it in a charity raffle.”
Dan raises his eyebrows and grunts.
“Clever, right?” Kyle says. “God, I’m good at my job. So how’d you get your daughter in, too?”
“We didn’t! She’s one of you…a Force of Nature!”
“Oh. Then she’ll likely be fine,” he says, and pulls the tape taut over Jane’s mouth once again.
“Likely?” Jane shouts, but it comes out like Mmmph-mmph?
“Not long now and all this will be over.” Jane makes another grunting noise and Kyle boops her on the nose like she’s a toy poodle. “Don’t worry! You two will be perfectly safe in this van.”
The squeak of the back door to the restaurant opening draws Kyle’s attention and his eyes widen as he throws a glance over his shoulder at Isaac. “Shit. Gotta run!” And then he does literally that—he grabs both straps of his book bag, as if holding them taut, and then turns and runs at a full sprint toward the cliff. Jane gasps as he leaps into the darkness, his body completely disappearing like a magic trick right before her eyes.
Jane screams, though the noise doesn’t carry very far thanks to the duct tape. She looks at Dan, whose wide eyes mirror hers. Then he says something, but Jane can’t understand.
“What?” she asks, but it comes out Mmph?
He says it again.
“I think he’s telling you to run,” Isaac says, appearing at their side and startling Jane even though she knew he was coming. What with having the most bizarre conversation with Kyle and then watching him jump to his sure death off a cliff, her nerves are a bit on edge. Isaac grins. “Too late!” Then he scratches his head and looks toward the cliff behind him. “Guess Kyle was ready to leave the party, huh? Doesn’t surprise me—not everyone has the balls for this kind of thing. Anyway, we’re out of zip ties, but lucky for you guys, we’ve got plenty of duct tape.”
Jane knows she should kick and scream and do whatever she can to get away from Isaac, but her hands are tied behind her, her mouth is taped, and honestly, she’s exhausted from the shock and fear of the evening. Isaac winds the tape around her ankles three times, and when he’s done, he rips it from the roll, pats it down, and then makes a shooing motion at them with his hands. “Scoot back,” he says. “I’ve got to close the doors.”
Jane does as instructed, if for no other reason than to be as far away from the cliff—and unstable Isaac—as possible. Dan inches his way back as well, pulling his knees to his chest, and then the door shuts and the two of them sit staring dumbly at each other, bound and duct-taped, as Jane tries to make sense of what just happened.