Chapter 81
Maple
This is totally a scam; those publicity whores are fine and y’all are so dumb for falling for it.
Brandon drives a dusty red pickup truck. It’s less luxurious than Mom’s, but more comfortable than Dad’s, and my heart rate doesn’t spike too much when the doors lock automatically. Brandon seems like a good guy, almost familiar in a crazy kind of way.
‘You thirsty?’ he asks. ‘Or hungry? I was conscious it was a long bus ride for you, so I brought a few supplies.’
The aircon is blasting, but it doesn’t seem to be having much of an effect because the cab is still roasting hot, and I can already feel my forehead starting to sweat. ‘Maybe some water,’ I say. ‘If you have some.’
‘Sure.’ He nods toward my footwell, and I follow his gaze. There’s a small black cooler bag wedged in at the back. ‘There’s some cold water in there,’ he says. ‘Or a Pepsi if you’d prefer that, and I got some mango. I figured teenage girls like fresh fruit; sorry if that’s me stereotyping though.’
‘No, I love mango,’ I say, wanting to reassure him, and because it’s true. But I don’t think my stomach could cope with digesting any food right now, and I’ve always been more of a Coke girl. ‘But water is good, thank you.’
I reach down and unzip the bag. There’s a glass bottle of Voss water inside, and it’s ice cold, like it’s been stored in a freezer. I unscrew the wide lid and take a few long gulps.
‘So, did you want to message your friend?’ Brandon asks.
‘Oh yes.’ I open Snapchat and start typing. My fingers feel a bit chaotic – nerves, I guess – but eventually I get the basic facts down and press send. I imagine Coco sitting in her second-hand gaming chair receiving my message. Will she be relieved? Pleased? Or mad with me for involving her?
‘And your parents,’ Brandon continues. ‘They’re okay with you coming out here?’
‘Oh, yes, they’re cool with it,’ I say. The last thing I need is him insisting I message them. ‘They know how important this is to me.’
‘They must be very proud of you,’ he says. ‘Putting so much effort into finding Ella.’
I manage half a smile, but Brandon’s words make me want to cry. He’s a stranger, but he already seems more decent – and more complimentary – than either my mom or my fake dad. ‘So you said you knew it was Ella for sure from her tattoo?’ I say, wanting to take the focus off me.
‘Yeah, it’s striking, isn’t it? Although I had no idea what it symbolized until you explained it on your channel.
That must have been awful for her, finding out that her image was being used on illegal porn sites.
’ He shifts in his seat, like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. ‘But it explains a lot, I guess.’
‘Like what?’ I ask. The cab is still too warm, and after missing a night’s sleep and barely napping on the bus, my vision seems blurry. I try to focus on his face. ‘You said she’d been mistreated by a man, I think?’
Brandon sighs. ‘Listen, I don’t know that for sure, but there’s a big drug scene in Vegas.
Fentanyl, methamphetamine. And whenever I’ve seen Ella, she looks wasted.
She’s always at the bar with this one guy, and I think he’s her dealer.
He’s pretty rough with her, and I wonder if the porn stuff has made her think she’s not worth more. ’
I try to process what he’s saying, but my brain feels sluggish. ‘Are you saying Ella’s an addict? And that she’s sleeping with her dealer?’ I finally ask.
He doesn’t answer, but I take his silence to mean yes and it makes me feel sick. Ella was one of America’s most popular teens a few years ago, an amazing dancer, always so bubbly and confident. How could she have sunk so low?
Except that’s a bullshit question, because I know exactly how fake that whole smile-for-the-camera life is. I mean, wouldn’t I be categorized as super popular right now? And look at me. Dealing with a pile of shit almost as big as Ella’s.
‘Are we nearly there?’ I ask, still trying to swallow down my nausea. The streets do look rougher here, like Brandon warned.
‘Almost,’ he says. ‘Just rest your head back and close your eyes. I’ll tell you when we’re close.’
I nod. I don’t know why – his answer doesn’t make sense – but still, the suggestion sounds so welcome that I let my eyelids drop. And darkness claim me.