Chapter 22
Denny
It terrifies me what I would do for you.
― Alexandra Bracken, Never Fade
“You’re nuts.”
“Thanks, Lik. You’re only the millionth person who tells me.”
“That psychopath killed you inside, Cadence.”
“Again: not my name.”
“Would you at least tell me if I got it right?”
“Not a chance.”
Denny flung the duffle bag over one shoulder. The gym’s sliding doors opened. She gave way to Eris, then walked out followed by the twins.
“Can’t believe we’ve known you for like a decade and you still refuse to tell us your full name.”
“Maybe on my death bed.”
The taco place down the street was their favourite post-workout treat. It closed at 10 PM, but Denny would be at the café with Blake by then. They had about half an hour to grab a bite and share some gossip.
“I bet Eris knows,” said Noah, sprinting past them just in time to catch Eris smirking. “You do, don’t you?”
“Of course I know.”
It was cold now that the sun had gone down, but they were still running hot from the workout session, so they sat outside to eat.
Denny and Eris jammed their bags under the table.
“I’ll end up leaving it here,” Denny grumbled.
“I gotcha.”
Their tacos arrived with a free portion of nachos they hadn’t ordered.
“On the house,” said the waitress, dressed as a witch for Halloween, bending unnecessarily low to set the plate down in front of Noah. He thanked her, but missed the offering of her cleavage because he was too preoccupied with Denny’s imminent appointment.
“Being alone with that psycho seriously doesn’t bother you? Not one bit?”
“Pass the sriracha, please.”
Denny accidentally bumped her iced tea while setting the sauce down. Eris grabbed it right before it toppled over. “A friend of mine’s going to be there,” she conveyed.
“It couldn’t be either of you,” said Denny, noticing the boys’ offended expressions. “She wants to see me alone. A familiar face would get on her wick.”
Noah shook his curly head. “What did you see in her?”
“The mental bitch is the problem here,” Eris cut short.
“What’s the point of this date then?” Noah plucked a cluster of nachos and cheese from the plate that his brother was trying to snatch. “What’s she getting out of this?”
“I reckon she’s hoping to break us up, one way or another.”
Noah lifted a wary gaze on her. “I don’t get why you agreed to this.”
Denny shared a glance with Eris, receiving a shrug in reply, at which her eyebrows arched all the way up. Eris rolled her eyes and shrugged again.
“Want to fill us in?” Malik snorted.
Eris made a dismissive gesture. ‘Tell them. Whatever.’
So Denny told the boys about Eris’ history of misdemeanours, the incident with Blake, and what was at stake.
“Wait, you could do time?”
Eris’ thumbnail picked at the label of her beer bottle. “Last time I was picked up, they let me go with a warning: no more stepping out of line or else.”
Noah nodded sympathetically. “Can we do anything?”
“Not at the moment.” Denny pushed her plate away. “We’ll see how today goes.”
She wasn’t nervous about meeting Blake. Her real concern was Eris’ fate. Blake had the upper hand in this twisted game of push and pull.
Her knuckles whitened around her glass.
‘How far would you go to protect me?’
Denny had never considered until now that there might be nothing she wouldn’t do to protect Eris.
Wherever the line was, she was willing to cross it.
It’d have been simple, if Blake had just wanted sex.
Denny had slept with plenty of women without truly being into it.
For a long while she’d believed everybody lived sex that way, like a chore: meaningless and unrewarding, imposed by some unwritten society rule.
“Get her to talk.”
Denny blinked, looking up while her brain belatedly processed Noah’s timbre.
“Huh?”
“If she thinks she’s alone with you, she’ll talk. Record the conversation and get her to spill. It’ll give your lawyer something to work with.”
“You think she won’t be expecting that?”
“Show her that you’re vulnerable,” said Eris. “Make her think you’re exactly where she wants you. That she holds all the cards.”
“Subtlety is key. Can you be subtle, Alabi?”
The table fell quiet.
Eris rubbed Denny’s knee. “You got this, Sunshine.”
* * *
While waiting for Blake, Denny’s eyes darted around her, taking in her surroundings. A lot of people wore Halloween masks. Eris’ friend could be any of them. Denny had preferred not to know what he looked like, lest she give him away.
The café didn’t feel the same nowadays. It had been her and Blake’s go-to spot and Denny had never wanted to set foot in there again after their breakup.
Some places were like sponges: they absorbed memories, emotions, pieces of yourself that were better off gone.
Today would either rehabilitate the 31 Below or condemn it for good.
She saw Blake from afar. It was like there was a spotlight on her: everyone turned and stared as she passed.
Blake had that kind of power. It had nothing to do with looks: she wasn’t the most obvious type of beautiful—aquiline nose, downturned eyes, dimpled chin—, but she had a knack for attracting attention.
Despite being prettier, Denny had never had that magnetism.
“Hello, lovely.”
She forbade herself to flinch when Blake leaned forward to kiss her cheeks, lingering to brush a sweaty curl behind her ear.
“Straight from the gym? Or your girl gave you a good time before handing you over to me?”
Denny shoved the revulsion under her best Customer Service Poise, minus the courtesy smile. Blake was too shrewd to buy that.
“Shall we sit?”
“I love it when you take charge.”
The outside tables by the windows were free, save for a big guy who was smoking in front of a laptop. Denny picked the table on the other side, away from the smoke. Cold comfort.
Blake ordered and paid for both of them without bothering to ask what Denny wanted. She knew what Denny liked. At least it gave Denny a chance to set her phone on recording mode unnoticed.
“So.” Blake tapped her Apple Watch off. “How have you been doing? Questionable new acquaintances aside.”
“Can we skip the platitudes and get this over with?”
“My, such rudeness… You lie with dogs, you wake up with fleas, huh?”
The arrival of the waiter helped Denny swallow a dangerous rebuttal.
He set the smoothie in front of Denny and a Johnny Walker in front Blake, complimenting her for her excellent taste in whisky.
Blake revelled in his flirtation, but her coy simper vanished the very moment he turned his back to her.
Blake didn’t like men; she just liked having them wrapped around her little finger.
Denny was no stranger to that influence. She still hadn’t shaken off the imprint of the tethers that had manoeuvred her like a puppet.
“Christ, Denny, you look like a trapped mouse.” Blake crossed one leg on top of the other with a nettled twist in her lips. “You could at least pretend this is a friendly rendezvous.”
Ignoring the discomfort, Denny pulled up her confidence like lapels around herself. “Whatever this is, it’s not friendly.”
A finely manicured eyebrow lifted. “You’re going to make this unnecessarily hard, aren’t you?”
“The only reason I’m here—”
“—is because I threatened to ruin your little pet’s life.” Blake’s tongue swept at the inside of her cheek. “She nearly choked me. I hope for your own well-being that she isn’t such a freak in the—”
“Just tell me what you want.”
“You know what I want.”
Of course Denny knew. Therapy had laid it all out before her, clear as day. She was everything people like Blake wanted: empathic, sensitive, pliable… A lump of clay easy to plasmate. But she was wiser now. She decided who could get to her softness.
“I wasn’t good enough for you a year ago. Why would I be now?”
A disgruntled pout curved Blake’s mouth downwards. “I was a fool. I’ve looked for your spark in so many women, Denny, but they’re all so dull and vapid…”
Denny presumed ‘dull’ meant ‘not as fun to torment’.
“You vacated the spot. Now it’s taken.”
“That isn’t much of an obstacle, is it?”
“So if I dump her and get back with you, you’ll leave her alone?”
“You’d do that, wouldn’t you? Sell yourself for her like a whore.” Black-rimmed eyes sought Denny’s, sharp as razors. “What would I even do with a girl who thinks of someone else when she’s fucking me?”
As if Denny needed a reminder of the only real value she had ever had to Blake.
She’d do it, if there was no other way—prostitute herself and let Blake have whatever she wanted. She didn’t care. The part of her that truly mattered would always be out of Blake’s reach, consecrated to someone else.
“I can’t turn off my feelings,” she said, closing her hand around the glass in front of her.
Neither she nor Blake had touched their drinks yet.
Denny had never had a drop of alcohol in her life, but all of a sudden she was tempted to find out what it felt like to have it in her system.
Blake’s probing scrutiny made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable.
“You can’t seriously be in love with that slag.”
Denny was glad that she had forbidden Eris from being anywhere near. She would have hated her to hear how Blake spoke about her.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Oh my god, you are. You’re more gullible than I thought.”
Denny swallowed. Blake was watching her with that calculating look of hers that seemed to be constantly tearing everything apart, looking for weak spots to latch onto. In this case, she already knew what the weak spot was.
“She really got you good, mh?”
Past Denny would’ve fallen for it and lashed out defensively, feeding Blake’s hunger for conflict.
Present Denny had months of therapy up her sleeve: she knew that the best way to beat a narcissist was to starve them.
So she sat back, took a small swig of her smoothie, and set it back down with a soft pop of her lips.
“Eris isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t she?”
A glitch dented Blake’s conceited facade. Nothing more than a flash of frustration, but enough to tell Denny she was playing her cards right.