Chapter Twenty-One #2
“You’ve got a little something…” I motion to my chin to indicate his. He spits out more blood, tenderly touching his lip.
Just then, the rumble of the work-truck engine echoes off the palm trees, and I look up to see Shawn approaching. Although Creed looks like he’d love to hit me back, he moves away instead. His pride is wounded more than his face. Also, he wouldn’t mess with Shawn.
As the truck glides to a halt in front me, I glance over to the valet, who is trying to hold back his smile. Shawn rolls down her window, tilting her head to look out. She glances at Creed as he spits more blood on the ground. I walk over and climb into the passenger seat.
“You do that?” Shawn asks me.
“Yep.”
She nods. “Pro move,” she replies easily.
Creed is incensed, and he turns his anger on the valet. “Where is my fucking Jeep?” he shouts, like a child throwing a tantrum.
Luckily, before the valet has to answer, the white Jeep comes rolling up next to us. The other valet hops out good-naturedly and tosses the keys to Creed. He doesn’t catch them, and they bounce off his chest before hitting the ground with a rattle. It’s… embarrassing.
Creed snatches the key ring from the ground, the lower half of his face covered in blood, and stomps his way toward his vehicle. “No tip!” he yells, pointing at the valet stand. But the workers are already gossiping. His tires squeal as he leaves the resort parking lot.
As if she’d been waiting for him to leave, Jordan comes waltzing out of the lobby. She’s wearing a sundress over her bathing suit. She says nothing to the valets as she passes them and crosses to the truck. They, however, seem completely stunned when Jordan opens the passenger door.
“Move over,” she orders. I slide into the middle, next to Shawn, and Jordan gets in and slams the door shut.
As Shawn starts out of the driveway, Jordan glances over to the valets, who are watching in awe, and presses her finger to her lips as if asking them to keep a secret. They smile in return.
As we wait for the bail bondsman to finish the paperwork, charging Jordan’s credit card for the amount, the three of us are silent in the small office. The transaction was straightforward, although it helps that the clerk is friends with Shawn’s grandfather.
Jordan sits between me and Shawn, tapping out texts and liking social media images, as if oblivious to where we are. Shawn peers over her shoulder.
“You’re always on that phone,” she tells Jordan. “You should just get it implanted in your brain, that way you won’t get that crooked pinky finger.”
Jordan immediately checks her hand, stretching out her fingers, before turning to Shawn. She smiles in return. “My hands are just fine,” Jordan says, although she’s amused.
“They are,” Shawn replies. “They’re beautiful hands.”
Jordan is looking at her phone again, but her lips are upturned, a slight flush on her cheeks. I’m fascinated as I watch them, and when I notice the brush of Shawn’s hand against Jordan’s on the chair, I’m stunned that I didn’t see it sooner.
“You two?” I accuse. “Really?”
“Don’t be classist,” Shawn says, but then winks at me.
“How long?” I ask with a laugh. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Hello, I’m still sitting here,” Jordan says, although she’s not looking at either of us.
“Whatever,” I tell her, but now I’m starting to get a little mad. “How could you still hang out with those Collective pricks when you’re hooking up with Shawn?”
Jordan gives me a stern look, as if telling me to lower my voice. But I have a good point, and she has to answer for it. She’s made our life hell.
“I wanted her to keep it undercover,” Shawn says for her. She nods, as if telling me to chill. I’m stunned to realize that Shawn is invested in this relationship—I can tell that she really likes her. This isn’t one of the usual beach romances.
“But you don’t tell me?” I ask, kind of hurt.
Shawn tilts her head, apologetically. “I would have,” she says. “I wanted to. Tech doesn’t know either. I was just… waiting for the right moment. But, there’s always a storm in Cape Hope. And lately…” She doesn’t even have to start on the rest.
Although I’m hurt that Shawn didn’t tell me about this relationship, thinking about it, there were definitely signs. Some missed late-night hangouts, a few moments where Jordan seemed to defend Shawn, even last night at the fight.
Jordan sighs and sets her phone aside.
“It’s because of my mother,” she tells me.
“That’s why we haven’t told anyone. If my mother found out…
she’d be furious. A Chaser? With our family history?
Cecelia Miles would cut me off so fast.” Jordan snaps her fingers.
“That means no college, no car, no nothing. Which is why I looped Jamie into my life—she’s always liked him.
I didn’t know about the two of you, by the way,” she adds.
“Not that it matters, considering he’s not really my type.
” She flexes her hand in Shawn’s, and they turn to each other.
“This is serious?” I ask, worried for Shawn’s heart. She may be the toughest person I know, but typically, those types are always a bit soft on the inside.
Jordan smiles, rolling her eyes. She shifts the hem of her dress and shows me a small tattoo on her hip. It’s a little boat.
“Well, damn,” I say, knowing that Shawn has a matching one on her wrist.
Although I’m shocked and a little left out. The idea that Shawn has someone isn’t surprising—she’s amazing. Of course that someone happens to be the princess of the Augustus Resort. I guess it kind of makes sense.
I lean toward Shawn. “By the way,” I say quietly. “I bumped into Alessandro Mancini while at the resort. He’s scary as hell.”
Jordan nods along, although she’s looking at her phone.
“We need to be extra careful,” I say to Shawn, and widen my eyes to let her know I’m not going into details in front of Jordan. They may be dating, but I don’t want any of us to end up accused of a murder we didn’t commit. She nods, understanding.
The bail clerk comes back out, and Shawn jumps up to meet him at the table. They talk for a moment, and then she waves Jordan over to sign some paperwork.
Once it’s done, we grab all the documents and head back to the resort. We drop off Jordan and then make our way to the station so we can bail out Jamie.
When we walk in, the sheriff is already waiting for us at the front desk. He has the nerve to look upset with us, and it’s all I can do to not cuss him out while the other officers listen.
No matter how he spins it, my uncle is involved in a cover-up. He knew Felix. Why would he lie about where his body was found? He owes him more than that—he owes him justice. But as much as I want to confront my uncle, I’m not sure that I should.
I’m not sure if I even trust him anymore.
“Here you go,” Shawn says coldly, sliding the paperwork over the desk.
Sheriff Castillo picks up the receipt to examine it. He takes his time, and then he sets it down and crosses his arms defiantly over his chest. He turns to me, studying my demeanor as I try to keep my composure.
“What the hell are you doing, Noa?” he asks. “First the boat, then the blood, and now… now you got this kid arrested?” He motions toward the back of the building. “Are you trying to ruin his life?”
“His life?” I say, casting a look at the officer sitting in the desk behind the sheriff. I lower my voice. “What, like ruin his college prospects? Is that really your biggest concern right now when other people are actually dying?”
My uncle tightens his jaw, and then takes a deep breath. He levels his eyes on mine. “I’m doing my best,” he says in a low voice. “Even if you can’t see every move I make, I asked you to trust me.”
“Well, I don’t anymore,” I tell him, my face stinging with the truth in those words. “And what about the guys who shot at us? Did you find them?”
“Not yet,” he says, lowering his gaze like he’s ashamed. “I know this is confusing, but you’ll understand eventually,” he says. “You will.” He sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Find out what happened to Felix,” I say quietly. “I don’t know why you lied about where his body was found, why you’re still hiding the Starline. But don’t let Felix slip through the cracks. You need to question them. You need to talk to the Collective about—”
“Don’t start with this Collective and Chasers bullshit again,” the sheriff says, slamming his hand on the desk and making me and Shawn jump. “Those labels only exist because you reinforce them. You all need to just stop!”
I have a flash of anger. “You have always done this,” I say. “Ever since you put on the uniform, you try to pretend like the problem doesn’t exist. Gaslight us into believing it never existed. But you know who won’t let us forget? The assholes at the resort. They remind us every day—”
“Oh, enough…” The sheriff starts talking over me until we’re both shouting.
“—and they will keep taking everything because you let them!” I scream.
The sound of it echoes around the precinct. The other officer watches with eyes wide, as if trying to determine if he should step in.
And suddenly, I understand what happened with Rum Runner Island and the Starline Hotel—how it disappeared in the first place.
Sometimes, it’s just easier to forget.
Whether you’re being gaslit, bribed, threatened—a convenient lie is faster and stronger than fighting the current toward the truth. I don’t know my uncle’s motivations, and I probably never will.
But I am certain that we’re on our own now. And there’s nothing easy about that.
“Can we please just get our friend?” Shawn demands, breaking through the argument. “I’m going to be late for dinner.”
Shawn has unbreakable dinner plans with her grandparents. Everyone knows that.
“Tell Magda that I said hello,” the sheriff says, nodding to her. “And I will go get the Matthews boy, but…”
“His name is Jamie,” I say. “He has his own name.”
The sheriff exhales, then nods that he understands.
When he looks at me again, his voice is softer.
“Listen,” he says. “I know things are hard right now, but you are my priority. All of you kids. Not just the Chasers, not the Collective. We have a real tragedy unfolding right now.” He chokes up, and quickly adjusts his stance, shielding his watering eyes from the other officer.
“And I can’t let it get worse. So please, please, just this last time—I need you to trust me. ”
He waits for me to answer, his lips pressed tightly together as if holding back what he really wants to say. He’s keeping the answers close to his chest, but there is only so far I can stretch. For now, though, I nod—giving him the reprieve he desperately seems to need.
He smiles, grateful. “I’ll go get… Jamie,” he says, as if just remembering his name.
When he leaves for the jail cell in the back room, Shawn turns to me.
“That was intense,” she murmurs. I hum out my agreement. “Do you trust him?”
“No,” I say simply.
A few minutes later, I hear the door and look up to see Jamie walking through the room with Sheriff Castillo behind him. My heart swells when I see him, even though he looks awful.
Jamie’s left eye was already bruised, only now it has puffed up. His hair is a mess and his shirt is torn. There is noticeable bruising across the front of his neck. I look abruptly at the sheriff.
“No charges against Matteo? Or Jamie’s father?” I demand. Jamie quickly lowers his head, and I’m surprised that he doesn’t look angry. He looks… ashamed.
Sheriff Castillo holds up his hands helplessly. “The witness statements all say Jamie started it,” he tells me. “The only one pressing charges is Matteo.”
I turn to Jamie. “You don’t want to press charges?” I ask. Jamie shakes his head no.
While the sheriff looks sympathetic, Shawn seems as enraged as I am. Someone hurt Jamie, and by the looks of it, they really tried to. I have no idea why he wouldn’t want to act, but at the same time… it’s not my fight. All I can do now is support him.
“Thanks for the help, Sheriff,” Shawn says, reaching to take Jamie’s arm.
I latch on to Jamie’s other arm, careful to avoid his bandage, and walk with Shawn to the door. Part of me expects my uncle to stop us, ask more questions or beg for more time. But he lets us walk out into the setting sun, our lives a complete mess.