7. Romeo
Romeo
It was well past midnight by the time I walked into Rachel’s apartment.
She left the light on by the side table, and the house was quiet and glowing with the bubbling fish tank in the corner.
I tossed my keys onto the counter, making my way into her kitchen for a soda before checking the cat-clock on the wall.
Rachel still wasn’t home, but I expected her to be late, probably ordering her third cup of coffee right about now.
I cracked open the soda and made my way to the couch—my makeshift bed with the pink ghost blanket and fluffy white pillow.
It wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing to be crashing on my sister’s couch at thirty-four years old, but I felt a little less like a loser considering she refused to let me stay anywhere else.
When Rachel insisted on my doing something, that ‘something’ tended to happen.
She was bullheaded like that, an attribute I needed in my life.
I stretched my legs out and took a sip of soda, trying to digest everything that happened at the Scare Park tonight. It stirred something inside me—something restless and unresolved, an itch that chipped away at my patience to understand it.
What were the odds of running into Ivy Jade like that?
Of catching her alone on this side of Pennsylvania?
After all these years of not seeing her, she was suddenly before me, lying in the bushes, screaming like the cutest lunatic I’d ever seen. I laughed to myself. She was kind of funny. Bratty, yes. So fucking bratty. But funny.
I went to place my soda on the coffee table, but then fixated on the book that lay by the basket of remotes. ‘Unmasking My Bright Knight’ stared back at me. My folded-up CVS receipt poked out from where I last left off.
I picked it up, and the dumbest smile took hold of my face.
I couldn’t wipe it off. It reminded me of Ivy Jade, of the soft underside of her arm that graced my fingertips.
I still felt her. She was as tactile and physical as this book, and as I opened it, I wanted to read more—if not for myself, then to indulge in something she was so interested in.
“Helllloooo! I brought Chinese food,” Rachel sang from the entrance, keys jostling in hand. I didn’t even hear her come in. She shut the door with her hip, carrying bags of food as she moved into the kitchen.
“How was your meeting?” I asked, still skimming the page, a tad bit distracted.
“Productive. I’m hopped up on caffeine and sugar.”
“I can tell.”
“It can’t be that obvious,” she scoffed, and I heard her rummaging around in the plastic containers. “Orange chicken for you?”
“Sounds perfect. I’m starving,” I said as Rachel entered the room.
She put a carton of noodles in front of me, and my chopsticks poked out like little headstones from the food. Before she sat down, she tossed a coin right onto my lap.
I shut the book and looked at it.
It was red and heavy. It had a number ten on it.
“Ten years already?” I asked proudly, looking up at her with a smile on my face.
Rachel dug into her food, sticking a clump of rice right into her mouth. “Ten years and eleven days sober. And every day is still a battle,” she answered, but I could see the pride in her eyes, the look of well-earned achievement that glistened from within.
“Good thing you’re a warrior then,” I said, placing my hand over hers. “Congrats, Rach. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“I know.” She wiggled in her seat, getting comfortable. “Now no more mushy stuff. Eat your food.”
I laughed, picking up the orange chicken to take a bite. Rachel wasn’t one for sentimental moments, but then again, having emotionally detached parents left us little room for navigating our feelings—more so Rachel than me at times.
It wasn’t easy growing up in a house where we were treated more like burdens than children, and the way we coped with our traumas took us down very different paths.
Mom died when we were fourteen.
Dad was an out-of-control alcoholic.
Nothing was easy, and no two days ever felt consistently stable, unless it was the bond Rachel and I shared. All we had was each other, bound by blood, tethered, and as life-giving as an umbilical cord.
But not even that was enough. Where I once was the emo outcast who turned to reading and acting as a coping method, Rachel turned to the disease that eventually killed our father. And it got her good.
Finding her on the stairs, covered in her own vomit, felt like a lifetime ago.
The long nights. The mood swings and days when she would go missing.
She was just a teenager at the time, and she already hurt herself so much that I had to find a way to save her—to force her into a program and keep her accountable.
I was there for the withdrawals. I was there for the fevers and the anger.
And now she was here for me, saving me with a warm couch and an even warmer meal.
“By the way, they had these in the basement of the church tonight; I thought you would be interested,” Rachel said, pulling out some pamphlets from her back pocket. She placed them on the coffee table, and I looked at them while chewing.
“Theatre classes?” I said, flipping through them.
“I know you want to get back into it. I think you should look into going. Just check it out.”
“It is something I want,” I answered, looking more carefully. Free classes at the YMCA were a far fall from being a financial advisor, but something about it felt curious and right, just like it did with Ivy Jade.
It almost felt like a sense of direction.
Something I wanted to follow.
And without a plan going past next week, when Scare Night was officially over, I had no idea what I was doing, so maybe it was time to consider pursuing something new. Who knew where I’d end up after this? New York, maybe? Chicago? Los Angeles?
I had no clue.
“‘Unmasking My Bright Knight?’” Rachel looked down at the book by my side. “Book five?”
“It’s addicting,” I said, taking another bite of food. “I think I like romance novels.”
“Steamy ones in particular, I see.”
“It’s much more than steamy,” I said, gawking. “Wait, why am I defending it? These are your books.”
“Just promise to keep your hands above the blanket. This is my living room, not a brothel for you to enjoy sexy romance stories.”
“Dude…” I said, wiping my face with a napkin. I was going to throw up. “You don’t need to worry about me defiling your precious pink blanket. I’m actually exchanging your couch for something much bigger this week.”
“Oh yeah? And where’s that?” she said, unconvinced.
“That fancy chateau outside of town,” I smirked.
“You’re freaking kidding me!” Rice flew out of her mouth.
“Jealous?” I asked, giving her shit. When Gustav texted me shortly after we spoke on the phone, he invited me to stay with him and the wedding party for the remainder of his trip.
Everyone had their own room, all expenses paid, and there was no way I was passing that up.
No offense to Rachel, but my own room and bathroom sounded nice.
And it meant I got to see Ivy Jade more.
“Damn, I knew the Castellanos had money, but chateau money?” she said, amazed.
“Oh. They’re super loaded. To the point where it feels unethical.”
“Rich people…” she murmured, cocking her head. “Gustav always had his head on his shoulders, but I remember that snotty little sister of his. Ivy?”
“Ivy Jade,” I corrected. “She has a middle name.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I wonder if she’s still a brat? That girl was spoiled beyond repair.”
“I wouldn’t say beyond repair.” I stared at the book. “She’s a fan of ‘Unmasking My Bright Knight,’ so she has good taste,” I offered, giving her a shrug.
Rachel looked at me like I had confessed to murder.
“How do you know that about her?” she asked.
I poked around my noodles, trying to navigate my explanation. “I may have, sorta, run her off into a ditch tonight at the Scare Park.”
“May have?” Rachel asked, suspicious.
“I, one hundred percent, ran her into a ditch. Okay? I scared her and got her knee scraped up,” I was quick to explain.
“Romeo!” she gawked.
“It’s okay! I took care of her. She was actually very sweet… after she chewed me out.”
“Ivy is not sweet…” Rachel said curtly.
“Ivy Jade,” I corrected.
“Whatever. I know where this is headed, and I can already see all the red flags waving in the air. You have that look on your face.”
“I do not have a look.”
Rachel grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. “Ro, you look more like a clown now than you do with your makeup. You’re smiling like an idiot.”
“At least I’d be a happy idiot if that were true.
” I shrugged, not letting her get into my head.
But I knew where Rachel was coming from.
I was a man who could easily become attached, fixated even.
And one small tipping point could lead to big consequences.
Like losing a job, so to speak. Or ending a five-year relationship.
“Don’t go chasing another rich girl, Ro,” Rachel answered under her breath like she didn’t want the conflict. “We all know what happened the last time.”
“I’m not chasing anyone… I’m just going to a wedding for an old best friend. I can do that, you know?”
Rachel got quiet. She seemed to be deep in thought, giving me a side-eye, thinking I wouldn’t notice. “I’m just saying. You have lots of options now. Your little clown persona is, like, social-media famous. I keep seeing your picture pop up on socials all the time now. It’s really… something.”
“Those girls just like the fantasy of some menacing character. They don’t even know me.
” I ignored the fact that being at the Scare Park was a little bit of a surreal reality shift.
People liked High Jynx. They saw something in him that maybe I didn’t naturally have in my everyday life.
What that was exactly, I wasn’t sure yet.
But Ivy Jade was different. She already knew me as Romeo, and admittedly, from how we used to interact as teenagers, she was always the snippy, little firecracker who had it out for me.
I guess it was just surprising to be so close to her tonight without her biting my head off.
She was forced into a situation where she was able to treat me as someone other than her brother’s best friend, and that small difference—though still feisty—was wildly intriguing.
This was crazy.
I was acting insane…
This was Gustav’s little sister. Granted, she was probably about thirty now, but she was still his sister.
And all that history between us could never be erased, especially whatever shit she hated me for.
I wondered what her reaction would be when I saw her the next day, when I joined the party at the chateau.
Would she still shoot daggers at me? Ignore me? Pretend I didn’t exist?
Or maybe she’d forget why she hated me in the first place.
A part of me felt guarded all of a sudden.
The fear that Ivy Jade would be anything like Megan was a real and sickening possibility.
And why wouldn’t it be? They were essentially cut from the same expensive cloth.
Megan was quick to judge a book by their cover.
She was shallow, and she’d brag about how much money I made to whoever would listen.
I think that was her favorite thing about me—my job.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t seen it back then, but, really, she was like the women in the Castellanos family.
Maybe this was some sick self-hatred thing I was putting myself through.
Getting close to the things I liked until they hurt me.
“I smell like kettle corn and makeup…” I said suddenly, finishing the rest of my orange chicken. “I think I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
Rachel nodded mechanically, already turning the TV to a marathon of The Twilight Zone.
I went down the hall and to the bathroom, still stuck in dissecting my thoughts and feelings.
Actually, I was annoyed. Annoyed that I was thinking about Ivy Jade—aka Princess—the girl who I now knew smelled sweet and warm like vanilla.
She may have been a little rude, but also, she wasn’t a complete monster like Megan, right?
I mean, she liked ‘Unmasking My Bright Knight.’ We both did. So, she had to be cool. At least fractionally. And the fact that she finished the entire series made me desperate to catch up to her. Because that’s what it was about. Being on the same page with Ivy Jade.
I started the shower, peeling off my clothes, checking my phone one last time for the itinerary Gustav sent me after our phone call.
Corn maze, wine tasting, ax throwing, pumpkin carving, rehearsal dinner.
The wedding was on Halloween night, which was going to be fucking crazy to juggle since that was the biggest night at the Scare Park, and now I really couldn’t miss it since I was the best man.
Wait…
Was Ivy Jade the maid of honor?
She had to be—she was the bride’s best friend and Gustav’s sister.
That was going to force us together even more so, which, for some reason, made my heart hammer into a fury.
It got worse. Because not only did Ivy Jade not know I was High Jynx, but she also didn’t know that I walked away with something of hers tonight.
A secret I should’ve told her about but held onto regardless.
Out of my pants pocket, I pulled out two black wedding rings, the very rings I found beside Ivy Jade as she got up from the ditch.
Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was foolishness. But I wanted her to come back to me, back to the park to look for what she lost—to see her eyes light up again, the way they did with High Jynx.