The Start of a Mysterious Mystery (Honeyton Alexis) (Signed with a Kiss Series Book 2), Page 2

  Me: Go fuck yourself.

  I hit send and feel the slightest bit better, like I’m being myself again and not the weak girl who’s just letting this asshole push her around.

  Unknown: Wrong answer. And now you’re going to pay.

  Clearly they want something from me, and maybe I should just ask, but it’s not really my style.

  Being blackmailed isn’t my style.

  Controlled isn’t my style.

  At least not anymore.

  Maybe I should be worried. And part of me is, but the other part of me is beyond pissed. I want to text this sender all sorts of foul things. After taking a few deep breaths, however, I manage to collect myself. Then I dial West’s number.

  West doesn’t answer. Knowing he can be a late sleeper, I check the time. It’s nearing lunchtime, so maybe he’s still asleep.

  I decide to send him a quick text.

  Me: Hey, can you call me when you wake up? Thanks.

  It’s probably the politest message I’ve ever sent.

  “I sound so awkward,” I mutter to myself. I’m going to blame it on the kiss that happened last night, because Alexis Baker is not awkward.

  Or, well, she isn’t anymore.

  For a faltering moment, my thoughts drift back to a time when I was a bit awkward, where I wasn’t confident, where I let my guard down.

  “You’re so fucking ugly.”

  Hands all over me.

  Trying to break me apart.

  And they did.

  I lay there, broken on that filthy, chipped tile floor, choking on that fucking necklace. And I felt just like it—cold, broken, tainted.

  But then I got up.

  I put that fucking mask on.

  And I’m never going to take it off again.

  That isn’t who I am anymore.

  I’m tough.

  I’m strong.

  I am the unfeeling girl.

  And without feelings, no one can hurt me.

  Three

  West

  I’m in deep shit, and I know it, but I’m not sure if I care. I didn’t meet my mom for breakfast this morning. Not intentionally, but because I was up all night and overslept. I’m hungover, too, and seriously feel kind of … I don’t know, dirty inside. Maybe dirty isn’t the right word. All I know is that after spending most of last night having Holden teach me how to deal drugs, I feel like shit. And I think I’m more motivated to find a real job than I ever have been. The problem is that I have no clue how to go about that without asking for my parents’ help, something I don’t want to do.

  Also, considering the message my mom sent me this morning, I’m not sure they will help me now.

  Mom: Blowing us off? Not a smart move. Not to mention your father was extremely upset. You’re lucky I covered for you. But I will not do it again. Now, you’re going to call me as soon as you get this message so we can discuss your future plans. Don’t you dare blow me off again.

  The muscles in my jaw pulsate as I sit up on the air mattress that I set up on the floor in one of the three bedrooms in Holden and Ellis’s place.

  While the house is a decent size, it's a dump; holes in the floor, leaky faucets, and it doesn't help that Holden and Ellis are slobs. But, at least I have a roof over my head. It did come with a price, though.

  I dealt drugs last night.

  Does that make me a dealer?

  Who the hell am I even more?

  I’m not sure about anything as I sit up and peer around the dump of a room with cracks in the wood-paneled walls. Music is blasting from somewhere, along with laughing and shouting, and the air is laced with smoke. And yet, in a weird, twisted way, I feel more comfortable here than I did at my old home. Safer even. Because at least my father isn’t here where he can beat the hell out of me and scar my body and mind more.

  Still …

  “I really need to get a job,” I mutter as I rub the sleepiness out of my eyes. “And a new place to stay. Get my life together.” But the only way I’ll be able to do that is to call my mother. Because I know she’ll hold true to her word. She will make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.

  Well, more of a living hell than it already is.

  So, swallowing hard, I dial her number. She answers after one ring, like she’s been waiting around all morning for me to call.

  “Oh, look, your lazy ass finally woke up,” she says without a hello.

  “How do you know I was sleeping?”

  “Because you always sleep this late. Well, when your father isn’t around. If he is, he makes sure you get up. Maybe I should send him over to wherever the hell you’re staying so he can get your schedule back on track.”

  Vomit burns in my throat at the idea of my father coming over here and doing just that. Only, it wouldn’t be with words and a lecture. He would kick me until the disobedience bled out of me.

  “That’s not necessary,” I tell her. “I just slept in because I was up all night moving. You know, since you kicked me out.”

  “Yes, I did.” She seems pleased by the idea, which I find strange.

  I mean, I know she’s never been that fantastic of a mother and has always been cold, but she’s never flat-out shown this much loathing toward me.

  “So, are you ready to discuss the conditions of your new living arrangement?” she continues on.

  I want to say no.

  I want to tell her to go to hell.

  I want to just cut the damn ties with her and my father.

  Escape.

  Be free.

  From this cage that’s been welded around me for years.

  But I know my parents have the power to make good on their threats. To destroy my life. To keep me from getting out of this town and my parents, which is what I want. So, I stay inside that cage, bottling up everything and trapping it inside me, like the invisible bars around me.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, for starters, I want you to show up here for a dinner we’re having tonight,” she tells me. “And you’re going to pretend you’re a good son. Do you think you can handle that?”

  Tonight? But I have that party to go to with Lex.

  “I can’t tonight,” I say cautiously. “I have plans.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to cancel them,” she informs me. “Because, if you don’t show up, I will start calling up every store owner in town and warn them not to hire you. And I’ll make sure you can’t get a damn scholarship or grant. I will ruin your life.”

  I’m not sure if I believe her. “Won’t that taint this family’s perfect image?” I grumble.

  “Oh, I won’t tell anyone the real reason,” she informs me. “I’ll just tell them that we don’t want you getting a job because we want you to focus on your grades, but you’re insisting on taking care of yourself because you’re overly responsible,” she sneers the last part. “And then the only choice you’ll have it so obey us.”

  I press my hand to my chest where pain is building.

  Why does she hate me?

  Why do they both hate me?

  Am I so unlovable?

  Deep down, I know the answer is probably yes, because everyone I loved hasn’t loved me back.

  “Fine,” I cave, crossing my fingers that I’ll still be able to go to the party with Alexis.

  I can handle both. I can.

  I have to.

  Because I need a job, or this shithole is going to become my life.

  Dealing drugs is going to become my life.

  Darkness and emptiness and rooms with broken floorboards and ceilings will become my future.

  Or won’t become my future because a future won’t exist anymore.

  Only darkness.

  Four

  Alexis

  After I give myself a little mental pep talk about being tough and all that shit, I head downstairs to grab some lunch. The house is fairly quiet, but when I enter the kitchen, my younger brother Nik is sitting at the table, stuffing
his face with a sandwich and chips.

  He looks like Loki. Or, what Loki looked like at sixteen. I imagine, though, in a few years, after Nik finishes going through puberty, the two of them might almost resemble twins. Maybe even more so than Zhara and me.

  “Hey,” I mumble a greeting as I enter the kitchen.

  He pauses mid-bite, glancing up at me. “Um … Hey.”

  I understand his confusion. I’ve been a lame-ass sister over the last handful of months, and I’m not even sure if I’ve said much to him, which sucks. Which makes me suck. But I already know that I suck.

  At everything.

  I shove that thought down and put on a neutral expression. “Are you planning on working out or something?” I ask him as I make my way over to the fridge.

  His brows furrow. “I have football practice in just a little bit … Why?”

  I point out the athletic shorts and T-shirt he’s wearing. “I was just wondering why you’re wearing workout clothes.” I open the fridge then pause, glancing at him. “Isn’t football like a fall sport thing?”

  He sighs quietly then sets the half-eaten sandwich down on the plate in front of him. “It is, but I got into this special program that starts this week and runs all the way through summer.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.” He pushes away from the table and grabs his plate, his jerky movements biting with anger.

  I turn toward him, resting my arm on top of the open refrigerator door. “Why do you seem pissed off?”

  “I’m not.” His tone is clipped as he carries his plate over to the sink, drops it in, then strides for the doorway to leave.

  “Nik,” I call out. “What’s up?”

  He pauses in the doorway, shaking his head, then turns to look at me. “What’s up is that you never pay attention to anything besides yourself.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “It is true,” he cuts me off, crossing his arms and glaring at me. “Because, if you did pay attention, you would’ve known about me getting into this program since I already told you.”

  “I …” I rack my mind for the moment he’s referring to, but I’m totally drawing a blank. “I’m sorry,” I find myself saying, unsure of what else to say.

  “Whatever. It doesn’t even fucking matter. Zhara, Anna, and Loki pay attention to me, so I don’t need you.” With that, he walks out of the room, leaving me standing in front of the fridge, feeling as frigid as the chilly air blowing out of it.

  It doesn’t even fucking matter.

  Since when did he start swearing? From what I remember, Nik is still that little kid who used to scold us whenever we dropped the f-bomb. Now he’s dropping them himself?

  Everything he said throat punches me.

  He’s right. I don’t pay attention to him. Or anyone really. But, to be fair, I barely pay attention to myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m floating through life, dazed and confused, without a clue as to what’s going on and not thinking about the consequences.

  But, while I’ve made that revelation, I’m not sure what to do with it. I could change but changing seems complicated. Hard. And maybe even painful. I have to accept the past first. At least, I think so. But I’m not certain if I’m ready for that. My past is nothing but darkness. Even the happy memories are tainted by the violent hands of evil and death—

  My phone rings from in my pocket, yanking me out of my daze. And, while I know this issue with Nik and the inability to connect with anything will continue to hang over me like a stupid rain cloud, I latch on to the distraction and dig my phone out of my pocket. However, when I see Masie’s name flash across the screen, I don’t answer it, sending her to voicemail.

  She messages me about ten seconds later.

  Masie: What the hell, Alexis? Did you seriously just send me to voicemail?

  When I don’t respond, she sends me another text.

  Masie: I just wanted to see if you’re coming to the party. I really hope you are, because I want to talk to you.

  Even though I am maybe planning on it, I don’t reply, figuring I’ll just show up and throw her off guard like she did with me when I caught her and Blaine making out.

  I’m about to put my phone away when it rings yet again. When I see West’s name flash across the screen, I relax a bit. I don’t like that I do.

  “You sleep in super late,” I answer, pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can grab some stuff out of the fridge to make a sandwich.

  “Hey, I wasn’t sleeping,” he tells me in a teasing tone. Underneath the playfulness, he sounds exhausted.

  “Bullshit.” I bump the fridge door shut with my hip then drop the lunch meat, cheese, and mayo onto the counter. Then I go over to the pantry to grab some bread. “I can hear the sleepiness in your voice.”

  “You so cannot.”

  “Can to.”

  “All right, I was asleep,” he gives in, and I secretly smile to myself for winning the argument. But then I hastily erase the smile, because it feels weird and unnatural.

  Wrong.

  I grab a loaf of bread then head back to the counter. “You’re kind of lazy. Not that I’m judging you, but it’s, like, almost one o’clock. Even my lazy ass doesn’t sleep in this late.” I open the bag of bread and take out two slices.

  “I was up late,” he divulges.

  I can hear rustling and murmuring in the background. The voice sounds feminine, causing a frown to form at my lips.

  I know I’ve joked around about West being a manwhore and, in the past, he kind of was, which whatever, to each their own. But after the whole kissing thing last night and him offering to be my fake boyfriend, shouldn’t he not be hooking up right now? I mean, what if someone finds out? Then our plan will go to shit.

  “Doing what?” I wonder then quickly add, “You know what? Never mind. That’s totally none of my business.”

  “Isn’t it?” he teases. “I mean, you’re my girlfriend, so it seems like you should have the right to ask me whatever you want.”

  “Fake girlfriend,” I stress as I twist the lid off the mayo jar. “And I don’t think the same rights apply to me. Although, if Masie just heard what you said to me, she’d shit a brick.”

  “That’s a funny mental picture,” he quips. “But, why would she?”

  I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Because she once told me that, when I get a boyfriend, I need to make sure I’m not nosey—that good girlfriends aren’t. That, if I am, the guy would totally dump me.”

  “Well, maybe some guys are like that, but I’m cool with you being nosey. And FYI, the more stuff you tell me about Masie, the more I realize she might be even dumber than I thought, which is saying a lot.”

  My instinctive reaction is to defend Masie, since that’s what I would’ve done before what happened the other day. Now I just remain silent, focusing on spreading mayo on my sandwich and trying not to think about Masie and Blaine.

  “Should I apologize for that remark?” he asks after I remain silent for a dissecting amount of time.

  “Nah, you’re cool,” I tell him.

  “Good. Because I really didn’t want to apologize. I was just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

  I stack meat on top of the bread. “Fake boyfriend,” I stress again. “And I don’t think those have to be very polite since you’re not really trying to impress me.”

  “Oh, Lex, I’m always trying to impress you.” He sounds genuine for a moment, which is weird, and not just because it seems out of place, but because West is rarely genuine. “Anyway, at the risk of ruining my attempt at trying to impress you, I have to tell you something.”

  The girl’s voice rises in the background. “Hey, West, have you seen my shoes?”

  “They’re over by the door,” he replies. He must cover the phone because his voice is a little muffled.

  An icky feeling spins in the center of my gut. A feeling that reminds me a lot of how I felt when I saw Masie and Blaine kissing, only not qu
ite as intense. The fact that it’s there, though, pisses me off.

  I shouldn’t be feeling this way. West isn’t my real boyfriend.

  Put that fucking mask back on, you dumbass.

  “Sorry about that,” West says, his voice a little bit louder.

  Not sure if he’s speaking to me or not, I don’t reply, knowing that, if I do, hidden emotions will crawl out of my lips.

  “Lex?”

  I quietly clear my throat. “Yeah?”

  “Oh … I thought maybe you hung up on me.”

  “I didn’t.” I drop a slice of cheese onto the bread then focus on putting the lid back on the mayo jar, which takes a whole whopping three seconds so, yeah, it’s an awesome distraction.

  “You’re being really quiet,” he says. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I pause again, the feeling in my gut churning and churning.

  Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I refuse to feel this way. Ever. “Where are you?”

  He hesitates. “I’m actually crashing at a friend’s house.”

  The way he hesitates makes me wonder … “At Blaine’s?” And is the girl there Masie?

  “What? Fuck no.” The shock filling his tone sounds genuine. “Why would you even think that? After me punching him in the face? After everything I told you?”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize, aware that I’m being polite to him for the second time today. “I don’t know why I even asked that. I guess I just have trust issues or something,” I mutter, putting the slice of the bread on top of the cheese. Then I pick up my sandwich and take a big bite, mostly to prevent my mouth from saying anything else stupid.

  “That’s understandable, all things considered … But to ease your distrust, I’m not with Blaine. I’m staying at Holden and Ellis’s house. And that girl you just heard is just a girl Holden hooks up with sometimes. Her name is Harlow, and she’s always forgetting where she put her shoes. It’s super fucking weird, but she’s kind of super fucking weird. Like, the other night, while we were at this party, she told everyone she could see the future.”