25. Olivia #2
On that note, though, that’s the last time I trust Simon and new concoctions.
That pink drink from hell made me black out into oblivion.
Who the hell knows what I did last night or who I talked to?
That’s the part that scares me the most. Did I slip up?
I try not to drink on the job, so I keep my wits about me.
What if I didn’t, though? What if I talked to someone I shouldn’t have?
Ugh.
I’m never drinking again. That’s a promise.
I can’t continue to spiral down this alcohol-fueled, self-destructive hole I keep digging myself.
I’m not my father. However, my demons seem to reflect his.
He drank every second of every day, harming us in the process.
And what am I doing? I’m repeating his mistakes.
Except the only person I’m harming is myself.
I need to focus on what’s important here. Maybe I do have a stick up my ass and need to loosen up, but I also need to focus on all the things happening around this town. And there’s a lot of fuckery happening around here. More than I ever remember from when I was a kid.
The bodies that are continuing to pile up with organs missing. Yesterday, another woman showed up, naked with organs removed. It seems they’re ramping up whatever operation they’ve got going on.
Next on my list of shit to do is the Franco Syndicate and its nosy heirs.
More specifically, the newest thorn in my side—JJ and his blackmail.
Somehow, I’ll get out of it. Or maybe I’ll do what Jonathan says and lean into the blackmail more, trying to suss him out.
Now, to convince myself that I’ll be okay and that they won’t hurt me again. That’s another story.
Fuck. Even the group project with Wilder and Mack.
That’s a disaster waiting to happen. Those two together in a small study room? They’re going to tear each other’s faces off, and I’ll be in the middle of it trying to stop them.
God. My headache intensifies in the back of my skull. The more I think, the worse it gets, pounding away like a damn drummer inside my brain. I don’t know who to blame. My stress? My hangover? Simon? A combination of the three?
We’ll go with that.
My plate is way too damn full. This was supposed to be simple. Watch Franco and his idiots. Infiltrate their gang without getting caught.
Too bad I got caught. If only I weren’t here and someone was in my place. Someone who doesn’t have my face and history.
This town is a disease, dragging me further down into the bullshit.
And I can’t leave. That’s the worst part. Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut. How am I supposed to hold my shit together? I never have before. Sure, on the outside, I seem like I know what I’m doing. I’m an agent of the law. A survivor. A fighter. I’ve clawed my way through Veritas to get me to this point. My biggest case yet.
But am I truly living? No. I’m merely surviving. Barely. I’m pushing through the trauma that haunts my every move.
Especially being here.
I rub my temple. Okay, time to shower, get some coffee, and maybe find out what the hell happened last night.
Regret slams through me the moment I stand. My head swims. Yup. I need to drink a lot of fluids and fuck…
What day is it?
My brows furrow when I unlock my phone and an urgent campus-wide message appears from the dean, taking over my whole screen.
Dear students!
Today is the day we beat Cali State in blood collections for the first time in five years! Show your support at the East Side Auditorium, where the blood drive will be held from 12-6 p.m.!
All classes have been canceled for the day. Please remember, participating in this event automatically gives you an A in each course you are taking.
Free grades. Free cookies. Free orange juice!
Join us and support a good cause!
*All blood donations will be donated to the Greenwood Memorial and several charity chapters within Greenwood.
**The winning school will receive a catered event in honor of winning, and each participating student will receive extra volunteer hours.
Amber Whittmore.
Well, on the plus side, all my classes are canceled for the day.
That’s a relief with how I’m feeling. On the downside, I’m almost positive I’ll have to go to the blood drive and show my face.
For the extra credit, of course. But also, there’s something in the back of my mind drawing me toward the blood drive. Is it suspicious?
All for the sake of this case and investigating everything.
“Oli!” Simon says, sitting rigid on the couch and checking me over with his lips parted in surprise. “When did you get home?” He cocks his head, and my blood runs cold.
“W-what?” I stammer, staring at his horrified expression until his words sink in. “H-how did I get home?” I ask with a slight squeak, stumbling over my feet. “What do you mean? I thought we came home together.”
You know, because that’s what friends do. They carry each other home when one is too drunk to function, to make sure they’re safe. Or at least, that’s what girls do for each other.
“Oh,” Simon cringes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“We couldn’t find you. I thought maybe you had come home earlier.
So, Daniel and I left.” Without me? A guilty look crosses his face.
“I’m so sorry, Oli. I didn’t realize you weren’t here, and it was too late, and I thought you were asleep…
” He rambles on more, apologizing for leaving me behind, but it doesn’t do anything to ease the constant tension building in my chest.
They left me at the party. Alone. Vulnerable. Drunk. Anything could have happened to me. Even though I’m not a man and am dressing as one, men get taken advantage of, too.
I swallow the lump in my throat and bite my tongue. “It’s all right, Si,” I lie through my teeth, without going into the argument of never leaving a drunk friend behind. Man or woman, it doesn’t matter. Maybe he truly thought I was in the dorm already. Or maybe Simon didn’t think it through at all.
But this solidifies my need to stop going back to alcohol. Next time, water is my friend if I have to go to a party to spy.
“I really am sorry,” he says again with sincerity, pulling out his phone.
The moment his fingers tap the screen, his smile returns and excitement beams on his face, replacing all the guilt he held.
“But have you seen the party pics? Oh my God!” Simon howls excitedly.
“We look hot! Literally!” He holds up his phone screen, showing Daniel, Simon, and me with glossy eyes and sweat pouring down our faces.
I recoil instantly, wanting to grab the phone from his hand and delete every one of them.
There’s evidence out there now. Fuck. That suffocating feeling tightens around my chest like rubber bands squeezing the breath from my lungs.
It would be okay if I remembered that picture being taken. Or what was happening at that moment.
“How are you even functioning after the poison you made us?” I frown, making my way toward the coffee maker with determination.
I need it now. I need to light a fire under my ass and prepare for the blood drive. But I also need to get my head straight so I can face the day and hopefully shake some memories loose.
Caffeine will fix everything.
Simon chuckles from his spot on the couch, looking normal. No hangover. Not a touch out of place for him, which is odd for Simon. He’s usually the first one to chuck his cookies onto the lawn.
He puts a hand on his heart. “Poison? Oli, I resent that. The pink drink was made with lots of love for you, and this is how you betray me?” He waves a hand, grinning at me. “Besides, it was an epic party. Remember the strippers? The dancers? Oh, my God—the fire dancers!”
No. I don’t. Why is everything about last night so dang fuzzy?
“They were so hot, and their dance moves?” He whistles to himself, continuing without a word from me. “And I didn’t even puke. So, that’s a win in my book.” He shrugs happily, scrolling through his phone and laughing to himself.
“How much did we drink?” That’s the question of the hour.
Simon looks up at me, and I mean, really looks at me this time. His brows furrow, and a hint of concern flashes across his face. “You only had two glasses of the pink stuff. You kind of wandered off, though. So, maybe more? I’m honestly not sure.”
Right. They left me to defend myself. But where did I wander off to? Who did I interact with? How much more did I drown out my sorrows with?
“Wandered off?” Jesus. What the hell did I get myself into while I was blacked out and Simon wasn’t watching me?
“I caught you talking to Malic, but other than that, you seemed fine! I dragged you back to us, and that’s when we left after you disappeared again.
” His grin slightly disappears. “I mean, here’s a picture!
” He turns his phone again, showing a picture of Malic Monroe looking down at me with awe in his eyes and a lazy smirk on his lips.
Every inch of his body is relaxed as I lean against the wall, drunkenly ogling him with glazed-over eyes.
“Besides, Oli. I think he kind of likes you.” He holds that same pleased grin, but it instantly drops when I stare at the phone, blinking rapidly as I realize what I’ve done.
“He gave me the idea for our pink drinks!”
Great. I talked to my one-night stand—who gave Simon the idea for our drinks. The same man everyone’s afraid of around here. The psycho. The man who fucked me in the bathroom at the bar. Fuck. I didn’t tell him who I was, did I?
My heart rate soars and my vision swims. All I need is some psycho knowing who I really am. Hello, blackmail number two.
“Awesome. What er…was I talking about with him?” I avert my eyes as Simon cocks his head.
“No clue, Oli,” he says slowly. “Should I…”
“No biggie!” I rush, shaking my head. No way does Simon need to know about my past with Malic. Well, my one night of passion. If you can even call a bathroom hookup a night of passion.
Rock bottom never tasted so damn sour.