Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jules: Age Seventeen
Connecticut
As Sadie walked into the party, Jules watched Rodney who was doing his own private version of Sadie’s acting prep. The boy closed his eyes and went inward, shaking his head very slightly.
“Come on, Rod,” Hobbit breathed from the mulch beside Jules, as they hid in the thicket at the edge of Carter’s yard.
Sadie’s “costume” had been discussed endlessly during their meetings at the summer house.
Belle had wanted her to get dressed up—tight jeans, high heels, crop top that featured a set of dance-class honed, pop-star-worthy abs that Sadie usually kept hidden beneath her baggie Ts.
Product in her hair and more makeup on her face than she usually wore.
Jules had pointed out that none of Suspect X’s previous victims had dressed to draw attention. Yeah, they maybe got shined up a little bit—they were going to a party, after all. And even Belle’s own costume—her Daisy Mae cut-offs—was something that she wore regularly throughout the summer months.
They’d settled on Sadie dressing like Sadie, but with a slightly more form-fitting top, a little more effort given to her hair, and a touch of makeup on her face.
As she came into the backyard, she looked around at the kids gathered there—and being Sadie, she no doubt noticed that Trent, their Suspect X, wasn’t among them.
Shooting a disgusted look at Rod—who was insolently watching her through slightly narrowed eyes—she approached the kids who were clustered around tonight’s keg.
There was usually a table set up nearby, stocked with cheap bottles of wine for the mostly-girls who didn’t like beer, and Jules noticed it was missing at the same time that Sadie asked, her voice carrying clearly, “Where’s the wine, Alan?”
“It was a no-go at the packy,” one of the boys at the tap told her. “Ronnie was out sick.”
“Ron’s the guy at the package store—the liquor store—who doesn’t check IDs,” Hobbit translated the New-England-speak and Jules nodded. Understood.
“Ugh,” Sadie said. “A perfect shit ending to a perfect-shit day.” With a massive amount of pitch-perfect rolled-eyed attitude, she savagely grabbed a red solo cup from the stack, and got in line for the keg.
Rod sauntered up behind her, and she was ready for him.
“Stay away from me, douche-bucket!”
Rod didn’t have to tell her to create a scene—she just went there, voice crystal clear and loud enough to be heard inside of the house, even with the windows only cracked.
“I’m just getting more beer, skank-ho!” He met her volume and possibly raised her a little as he shook his own cup at her—which he hadn’t been drinking out of as per Jules’s instructions.
He’d managed to knock it over earlier, but one of his soccer friends caught it, so it wasn’t empty.
And just as Shelly had suggested, the beer splashed up and out of the cup—drenching the front of Sadie’s shirt.
Clearly Rod hadn’t intended for that type of total soaking to happen—he hadn’t been aiming, and he was more than a little taken aback by what he’d just done.
Sadie, too, stood there a moment, her mouth open. The keg was on ice, so it was surely cold and since she didn’t like the taste of beer, it was likely that she didn’t like the smell either. But now she no doubt stank of it to high heaven.
Her shirt was white—well, it had been white—but there’d been enough beer in Rod’s cup to create a wet-T-shirt-contest effect. So much for hiding her fit physique.
“Rodney Burke, you son of a bitch!” Sadie’d been loud before, but now she’d gone full stage voice, which was astonishingly effective.
He still held the cup in his right hand, so he used his left to feebly and ineffectively attempt to wipe at her shirt, which... went about as well as could be expected, considering where he was wiping.
Sadie slapped his hand away from her chest, but he clearly remembered Tom’s Whatever she says or does, don’t accept her ‘no’ instructions, because he didn’t give up.
So she pushed him, and he stumbled backwards and in his flail he jettisoned his cup directly at her head, which really wouldn’t’ve been any kind of big thing since it was so lightweight, but apparently there’d still been a bit of beer at the bottom and...
Yeah.
It got her.
Right in the face
Sadie sputtered and spat as Rodney landed on his ass on the lawn. With a blood curdling scream, she leapt on top of him.
“Oh, shit,” Hobbit said from beside Jules in the brush.
“We should’ve been ready for something like this.
People can get hurt when a physical fight’s not choreographed, and by people I mean Rod.
” Still, he was laughing a little—Sadie had committed to the role, one hundred percent and the things she was screaming at Rod were pretty freaking funny.
Douche-nozzle. Dick-nose. Vomit-brains. Diarrhea-face.
But Sadie and Rod had achieved their goal—kids were pouring out of the house to watch the Fight! Fight! Fight! which really was little more than Sadie continuing to shriek insults as she faux-slapped Rodney.
Jules hoped it was faux.
Rod had his arms up, shielding his face and head as he lay on his back, Sadie straddling him.
“I’m not going to fight a girl!” he was shouting back at her. “Not even a skank like you!”
“You are such a slime-sack!” Sadie howled.
Rod turned to the crowd that had formed, looking for.... “Jimmy! Trent! Fucking pull her off of me, man! Jesus Christ, I’m not gonna fucking hit a girl!”
And there it was. Trent, their Suspect X, was outside. And Rod, bless his quick thinking, had not only given him a reason to interact with Sadie, but his request also IDed him.
Up ’til now, Jules hadn’t been absolutely clear which of the boys from Ottersfield was Trent, but Jimmy ended that mystery by grabbing the kid and pulling him over to where Sadie was continuing to slap at Rod.
Like all of the Ottersfield boys, Trent’s clothes screamed money via the expensive brand icons on his shirt and jeans.
Sneakers that definitely weren’t from Payless adorned his feet.
His dark blonde hair was styled with yuppie finesse, and his face was.
.. a face. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he wasn’t not.
He looked like... a boy from a town with money.
Not at all monstrous, although, God, if he’d raped all those girls and drugged Jules the way he had, he truly was.
“Is that him?” Meg whispered, her voice very small.
“That’s him,” Shel confirmed.
As Jules watched, Trent and Jimmy each grabbed one of Sadie’s arms and hauled her up and off of Rod, although she did continue to kick at him—one booted foot coming dangerously close to nailing him in the balls.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Rod said, scooting back before curling into a protective ball, because getting kicked in the thigh couldn’t have been much fun either. “What is wrong with you?” he asked Sadie, before ordering Trent and Jimmy, “Keep her the fuck away from me!”
“I hate you!” she said, struggling to get free, but just a little. Just enough so that both boys kept their hold on her.
Rod was silent as he pushed himself back up to his feet. “Yeah, I know you do,” he finally said.
“Ugh,” Hobbit breathed. “He can’t bring himself to say it back even though he knows that she knows it’s all just an act.
” He exhaled his disgust. “God, he’s going to marry her, I just know it.
And then in, like, five years, after you go off to college and become the head of the CIA, I’ll wake up and realize that, Shit, I haven’t seen Jules in three years, and then Holy shit, Rodney Burke’s my best friend now. ”
“I’m pretty sure it takes more than a single year after graduating from college to become the head of the CIA,” Jules pointed out. “Also, CIA? I don’t think so.”
“Out of everything I just said, that’s the point you contest?” Hobbit said as out in the yard, Sadie dissolved into tears. “Whoa. Go, Sade.”
It was brilliant. She was brilliant. She started to cry at the exact same moment she stopped fighting to get free from Jimmy and Trent. And as she surrendered, she sagged. She caved in on herself a little—shoulders and head sinking down. She turned away from Rod—and directly toward Trent.
That was not an accident.
Just like that, she was crying on Trent’s shoulder.
Now the look on Rod’s face was something else entirely as Trent put his arm around her, lowering his head to speak to her—no doubt dispensing comforting words. And yeah, that was definitely a flash of murderousness in Rod’s blue eyes.
“Okay, Bestie,” Hobbit murmured. “Remember that we’re all right here. She’s safe. We’re watching. Just walk away. Let Sadie work. Go to the keg. Refill your cup. Don’t be staring straight at her like that. Remember that old theater trick we taught you...”
As if Rod heard him, he did just that. He refilled his cup and then stood near the keg staring angrily down into his beer—and surely watching Sadie and Trent with his peripheral vision as the blood-thirsty crowd of partygoers realized that the show was over and went back inside.
“Ewuch,” Belle whispered. “How can she stand letting him touch her like that?” Because yeah, Trent pulled Sadie in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her much too close.
“She loves me,” Shelly whispered back. “And she loves Meg. That’s how. I know you’d do the same.”
“Yeah,” Belle agreed, “but I’d need to bleach myself after. Ewuch!”
Out in the yard, Trent had pulled back a bit from Sadie. He still held onto her shoulders as he leaned in and spoke to her. She nodded her head from time to time, but then shook her head no.
“I bet he was asking if she wanted to go inside because it’s getting cold and her shirt’s wet,” Jules guessed because her no was so emphatic.
She said something to Trent that again, they couldn’t hear because of both distance and low volume, but then pointed over to the keg—which currently didn’t have a line—and then the empty picnic table.
He nodded now and after another quick hug, he dashed back toward the house, while Sadie went to fill a cup with beer.
Sure enough, she had just sat down on top of the table, feet on the connected bench, red cup of beer on the table beside her, when Trent came back from the house, carrying his jacket.
He put it around her shoulders, so chivalrous, and as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, she smiled, almost shyly, to thank him.
As they watched, Trent sat down next to her, reaching behind her for the cup that she’d put on the table, and pushing it back away from the edge.
“He’s telling her he doesn’t want it to spill and get her jeans wet, too,” Shelly reported. From her angle, she could see his face a little more clearly.
“He can reach it easier, too,” Tom pointed out. “In case he wants to put anything in it like, oh, let’s just say flunitrazepam.”
“Camera on, Shel,” Jules whispered.
“Ten-four,” she whispered.
Out in the yard, Trent continued to talk to Sadie, his body language seemingly sympathetic and even kind as he leaned in closer and closer and closer to ask her questions, and to listen to her answers. It was creepy to watch him work.
“Vulnerable,” Hobbit whispered.
Jules whispered, “Check.” He glanced at his friend. “This is the last time he’s ever gonna do this, because we are catching him tonight.”
Hobbit looked back at him, warrior face on. “Double check.”