Chapter 39 Indie
Indie
Taste - Sabrina Carpenter
We’ve spent two hours in this truck, and my ass is starting to go numb.
Along with my ears.
Regina is upfront with Dawson, and for the first thirty minutes, they argued over music choices until he gave in and connected her phone.
“Taste” by Sabrina Carpenter has been playing on repeat for at least six loops in a row. It’s Regina’s favourite song, and now I think she’s passed the love on to Dawson.
At first, he tried to turn it off, claiming it was girl pop shit, but whilst she held the radio hostage, he gradually began to tap his finger off the steering wheel to the beat.
I catch the look they exchange, and suddenly I don’t want it to turn off.
She looks genuinely happy.
Dawson’s a really nice guy; his geeky looks are deceiving. But I’ve seen the mountain of tattoos he has under the tactical gear when he works out with us, and every time he talks to Regina, it’s like everyone else’s voice in the room goes quiet.
I should know; it’s how I look at Saint.
They’ve gotten really close over these past four weeks. He even joins her for gym sessions when I don’t.
I haven’t pushed her on it much, just the odd tease. I know that feeling of dread, thinking about being close to someone after what happened to us.
The possibility of sharing that past, what they’ll think, will it change how they treat you.
Regina hadn’t been in a relationship prior, so I know she’ll want to take her time.
Dawson, however, looks like he’s willing to give her every minute the world has to offer.
I thought I’d be nervous getting intimate with Saint again. Even speaking to another man used to send me into a spiral of anxiety.
The moment we saw each other again, I just knew those grey eyes were still my safe space.
When he touched me, dread didn’t rise, anxiety didn’t rattle through my body, tears didn’t swell up in my eyes at the realisation of what I was doing.
I would overthink it so much in those early days that being intimate would be another part of me I lost. Never being able to connect with anyone like that again.
With him.
And now the only thing that consumes me is the same feeling I always had with him, and it left me wanting more.
I guess our time apart did heal me in some ways, certainly my mindset when it came to sex.
Only, my heart had to pay the price for the absence.
I know it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else, hence the failed first dates.
My heart, body and soul are reserved to him. Even my corroded mind.
I always knew I’d never be able to move on completely; there’s not another human being like him.
He can be rough, overpower me, make me submit to him. But I allow him through my own free will. He does it in such a safe manner that I never question him, never think he’ll truly cause me harm. It would break him if he thought he did.
Especially now.
The hesitant touches, stopping at our first kiss after so long—even in the gym. He held back, looking at me for reassurance.
Though I’m no fool; I know it’s the devil that sleeps next to me in bed at night. I just can’t help but love how the flames of his hell warm me.
He stuck true to his pledge. I really did eat my words when he fucked me, consumed with desire, need, and love.
I’ll never leave him again, hopefully never go through anything like that again.
We’re better together, if we can class it as that, label us as a couple again. We’ve catapulted back into our normal ways, and he’s eradicated any doubts of underlying hurt lurking in him.
It doesn’t take away what I did, but I too was hurting at that point, and the old saying goes that hurt people, hurt people.
Mine was unintentional, and I thought I was doing him a favour so he could live his life.
But there is no me without Saint.
There never will be.
Regina’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Ready to go?”
I nod in response, opening the car door and sliding out into the carpark. Dawson rounds the truck, speaking on the phone to his ear.
We had another jeep following us, our very own security team.
The event is in two days’ time, and Dawson had to order me a wig and other accessories we wouldn’t find easily in store.
Him and Shona said it would be better if I dyed my hair, but Regina threw a fit when the words left their mouths. Her hands lay protectively over my dark hair at the mere thought of throwing a bleach on my virgin locks.
Not that I would mind, but the thought of sitting for hours in a salon, especially seeing as I have a target on my back, wasn’t practical.
Dawson nods ahead. “You ladies lead the way; the guys will follow.”
I turn in that direction, seeing the familiar SUV off in the distance, two men and a woman getting out. You’d never know they were security; they’re in a normal car and dressed in regular clothes.
We know they’ve got the skills of killers and are likely armed in places you’d never imagine.
The three of us head into the centre of town. We drove a little further than the one closest to The Pit, seeing as it has more to offer.
And by offer, I mean a clothing boutique that sells the type of attire I’ll need for a secret society event.
Regina guides us from the map on her phone, leading us towards the store. It’s small, the all-white walls and bright lights ready to entice a migraine out of me.
“I’ve emailed the girls, by the way. They’re all good,” she says beside me.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
We’re not overbearing employers, so our silence wouldn’t go massively unnoticed.
For the length of time we’ve been away, and with no future date on when we’ll return, we need to cover our backs.
I glance over to my shoulder at Dawson, who looks like a bored boyfriend, but his eyes dart off every single angle of the room, watching for any threats.
“Have you ever been to one of these events?” I ask him, my hand reaching out to fist the material of a blue gown.
He shakes his head. “Not personally. I’ve seen what goes on. Saint’s the only one that’s gotten close enough inside. We have a guy on the inside, though the communication is minimal to keep him safe.”
Regina pulls a dress off the rack, showing it to me, and I take it.
“What happened when Saint went?” she asks, the screech of metal making me wince as she rattles through dress options.
Dawson steps in closer. There isn’t anyone else in here apart from us and a bored-looking cashier at the desk, but I think caution is instilled into these guys’ membranes.
“We got a hire, provided security around the perimeter. Saint snuck in with a bodycam to try catch high-ranking members. Was planning on taking one of the Montgomerys back with us, but someone raised the alarm.”
My heart rate picks up at the thought.
If they caught him, there’s no telling what they’d do.
Especially seeing as someone outside their society knows what goes on.
He’s a known threat.
Dawson said before they won’t know who breached their system, haven’t given any indication they’re aware of it by retaliating, and wouldn’t be able to track down who.
The fact that when he tried again after Saint got caught, and couldn’t penetrate their security, there’s a very high possibility they’ve been combing through their weaknesses.
We’re definitely going in blind to this situation.
Dread pools in the pit of my stomach, and I try to reassure myself.
I’ll be with him.
He has an army of people behind him; we’re not going to disappear into the unknown if we’re caught.
Gathering the four dresses I’ve collected, I head towards the changing room.
“I’ll wait out here with him.” Regina smiles, handing me a pair of heels to try on.
I get through two dresses before I hear voices beyond the curtain, and every joint in my body locks up.
Fuck, this is not good.
My sister’s voice filters through the changing room. “Regina? What are you doing through this way?”
My leg is still suspended in mid-air, ready to step into the dress.
Shit, she thinks I’m in England, and that Regina is with me.
I can force a lie over a phone, struggle through one over video call, but not to her face.
And it’s Regina; she’s going to collapse like a house of cards.
But her voice is surprisingly steady, or maybe I’m imagining it is. “Hey, Louisa. Oh, I’m just out shopping with my…boyfriend. He lives here.”
My eyes flutter shut. If she hasn’t just embarrassed herself with that internally, she’ll have knocked the stride she was about to go on with her lie train.
“Oh?” Louisa trails off, waiting for his response.
“I’m Brian. You’re Louisa Kensington? The state senator?”
At least he sounds like he’s keeping his cool.
I can tell by my sister’s voice that stroked her ego. “Nice to meet you.” Her smile is evident through her tone. “What’s the occasion?”
Regina clears her throat, “It’s Brian’s birthday. We’re going out for dinner in the city tomorrow night.”
Sweat beads around my forehead. We’ve technically been out of the country for over a month, and I’m just waiting for this all to crash down around me.
For the curtain next to me to whip open, and scream like a pig when my sister’s glare spears the truth out of me.
“That’s nice. Where’s Indie? I haven’t heard from he; is she still with Saint in England?”
I’ve skipped stage one of cardiac arrest; my chest is so tight I’m definitely on stage three. I might need fucking CPR.
“Yeah, she is. I flew back a week early so I could spend Brian’s birthday with him.”
My clammy hand flattens against the cool wall of the fitting room, steadying myself as I listen to their conversation. It’s not that it’s a big deal that I’d be back with Saint; it’s just the lies I’d need to keep up with to her, and she’d tell Mom I was home.
She’d be upset with me that I didn’t go visit after. Time is needed for me to spin out the lavish story I’d need, plus a fucking Broadway rehearsal, seeing as I haven’t stepped foot in that country before.
There’s a beat of silence before Louisa responds, “Well I have to go; I have a meeting. If you hear from my sister, tell her to give me a call when she can. I need to speak with her.”
I hear the heels clacking further away down the store, and the curtain to the cubicle flies open, my hand slapping to my mouth to muffle my scream.
“Tell me you heard that?” Regina says, her voice shaky as she battles for a breath.
Deciding to abandon my other options for sizing, I stuff my limbs back into my own clothes.
“Every word. You did good. I’m proud.” I smile at her, gathering up the dresses from the hangers.
I have no idea why Louisa wants to speak with me; she hasn’t called or texted me.
That’s a family issue I can postpone for a couple days, and I take a mental note to send my mom a check-in text.
“I was shitting my pants…and I said Dawson was my fucking boyfriend!” She squeaks the last word, looking over her shoulder before her gaze lands back on me.
I snort, bending over to put the heels back in the box. “I think you like him.”
Before I can blink, my head bumps into the mirror, Regina now squeezing in the fitting room with me as she slaps the curtain shut.
“Okay, I haven’t said anything, but…” She trails off as I rise up, biting her thumbnail as she looks at me worriedly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, my hands cupping her arms, my spine steeling in case my profiling of him was way off the radar.
She blows out a breath. “Well, we…kind of kissed?”
“Gina!”
Her hand slaps over my mouth. “Shh! He’s like ten feet away, you damn foghorn,” she hisses and battles a smile at the same time.
I drag her hand away from my mouth. “I knew you liked him.”
My smile is beaming right now; this is huge for her. I force myself to relax, stepping out of defence mode from going out there and putting him on his ass.
“I’m happy for you, Gina.” I pull her in for a hug, and she grips me back.
“Thanks, Indigo. We just click, you know? I don’t know if he feels the same. Maybe he was just bored spending all his time in The Pit. Or maybe—”
It’s my turn to clap my hand over her mouth. “No, we’re not going to do that, and you know why? Because we deserve to be happy and not fucking question it when it comes to us.”
I pull my hand back, dipping my chin when I glare at her.
“You’re right. He seems to be happy taking it slow. I…kinda opened up to him about everything.” She nervously hikes a shoulder, rubbing her arm with her hand. “He listened and didn’t pressure me into anything. It was actually me who kissed him.”
There’s a blush on her cheeks, and my heart swells watching her, and I tell her, “He seems like a good guy. Saint wouldn’t have anyone with him who wasn’t. They might all be a tad unhinged in their own ways, but we’re not all perfect, are we?”
She reaches down, picking up my shoe box. “That’s true, and it doesn’t scare me, seeing as the best friend I’ve spent my entire life with likes that as a hobby. Those guys are kittens compared to my girl.” She pinches my cheek, and the two of us cackle.
It quickly morphs into a scream, both of us jumping out of our fucking skin.
“What the fuck are you two doing?” Dawson says, eyes darting between us both.
Regina untangles herself from me. “Calm your pecks, sunshine. We’re having a moment,” she jokes, making Dawson roll his eyes, but he wipes away the smile with the palm of his hand.
Just as I go to step out of the cubicle, I hesitate. “Is my sister—”
“She’s gone; the guys kept an eye on her. She left in a car.”
I blow out a breath, glad he kept up well with Regina’s story.
“I didn’t know that was your sister, but now that I think about it, you both look really similar.”
I scoff at his observation. “Yeah, and that’s where it stops. She’s a pain in the ass, believe it or not.”
We head to the cashier, deciding to buy everything that’s in my hands, with Saint’s fake credit card, of course.
Dawson carries my bags as we head to the car, and deciding to keep my other fake life in tow, I pull out my phone, sending my mom an update on my other hidden life.