14. Vex

14

VEX

S he thought she was in love with me.

And there is no us.

I think back to those days and nights and regret being a… what did she call me… ah, yeah, a stupid boy.

In some ways, I'm still that boy. As I scramble for the right thing to say, I wonder if my speaking skills have improved since then as the right words escape me.

"Who did you give the money away to?" I ask.

Calista looks relieved the question isn't related to her feelings. "I started small. Local women's shelters. Online campaigns raising money for things. But then, I realized I could have more impact if I donated larger sums to groups making bigger changes. Electoral reform. Women's rights issues. Gender equality. Things you cared about because Mrs. Williams raised you right."

"But you only ever talked about the things you wanted to spend the money on. Travel. Shoes. A house."

She looks over at the fireplace and I take in her profile. Cute nose, long lashes, and lush lips. Not sure how I missed all this when we were young. "I still wanted all those things. I just needed more money for it."

"The Outlaws?"

"Finding the right person to hack was always a balance. Too big and they had fancy legal teams and skilled tech people. They often had, back then, what felt like unhackable firewalls and security. But you also didn't want an organization too small that they paid attention to their bank balance on a daily basis. Remember, we always talked about getting in, getting rich, and getting out. I've learned the cleanup is just as important as the getting in."

She smiles to herself, as if she's a little nostalgic about her start versus where she is now. Then, she turns back to me. "Why did you go to them and tell them?"

I take a large gulp of the whiskey and let it burn. "For a whole bunch of reasons, some of which no longer make sense. Some of which are as true now as they were then."

There's a quiet between us as I sort through the best way to explain what happened.

"You can't just leave it there," Calista says.

"I was naive enough to think I could do it as a one-time job. I went to the Outlaws, so fucking wet behind the ears. I thought I could get them to tighten up their tech, make them unhackable. I walked right up to their compound and asked to see their president."

Calista places her palm on my knee. "That was a reckless thing to do."

I eye her carefully. "No more reckless than trying to steal from them and hoping you don't get caught."

"Touché."

But she's right. Motorcycle clubs are, more often than not, for white men only. White men above the law, with a penchant for weapons.

"He agreed to talk to me. Without mentioning you, I told ‘em I'd overheard someone talking about hacking them on the dark web. How I was an expert in hacking prevention. The truth was, I wasn't yet. But I knew how you intended to do it. I thought I could just jump in, shore up their system, and the world would be fine."

Calista stands and walks to the window, wrapping her arms around herself. "And was it?"

I finish my whiskey. "No. Because by the time I'd finished it and proven to them that I'd fixed the way the imaginary person on the dark web was gonna hack them, they told me I couldn't leave."

She turns back to face me at that. "They wouldn't let you leave?"

I shake my head. "Camelot sat me down in the clubhouse. Asked me how much money I made hacking. I hadn't told him I hacked too, but he told me no one could be that good at setting up a system unless they continually tested them. He said he'd pay me that much per month to make sure everything they did was secure. And that I'd get a percentage of club business. I said thanks, but explained I had plans. College. Whatever."

"He didn't accept that?"

"I made the mistake of thinking it was an offer."

"But it wasn't?"

Fuck, I think back to that moment, when I realized my life was no longer my own. "I said I'd think about it. And then, Camelot laughed. Like, full-on belly laughed. Said it would only be a few hours a week to stay on top of things."

Cue Ball had come into the room. He hadn't been there when I approached Camelot or worked through the night to build up the defenses of the club.

"Shit," I mutter.

"What?"

I stand and grab the whiskey bottle. I think we're gonna need it. "Cue Ball crashed the conversation Camelot and I were having. Camelot tee'd him into what I'd been working on through the night. He told Camelot that if he was smart, he'd put a twelve-month security in place."

"What does that mean?" Calista returns to the sofa.

"He said there was no way in hell a man with my talents should get away from the club for at least a year. Cue Ball thought I might have tampered with their system. He proposed to Camelot that I should be forced to stick with the club for a year to prove I hadn't. He said there was shit I could do for the club to make them money." I relive the moment in my head. Camelot looked pained. At the time, I thought it had been because Cue Ball was right, that I could have.

But what if it had been because he hadn't wanted Cue Ball's interference or his suggestion that the club should have a say in how my loyalty was enforced?

What if he saw me for what I was? A young kid who had done what he could to protect the club. He'd always treated me favorably, perhaps too favorably in the beginning.

In hindsight, perhaps it was his way of making it up to me.

"Camelot told me that if no one hacked them within a year, he'd let me go. But I never told them who you were, Calista. I swear to God."

"I heard you the first time you said that. Doesn't change the fact you were the only one who knew and then those bikers showed up at my door."

I pour myself another full glass and top Calista's up. I rack my brain trying to think of the possibilities.

Had I accidentally let something slip?

I feel like I could swear on a lie detector test I hadn't.

I never told anyone.

Had I muttered her name while trying to shore up the Outlaws' system at speed?

"What did you do next?" Calista asks.

"Said I needed to go home, get some sleep. Reconcile that I was working for the Outlaws for the next year."

"And did you?"

"Of course not. I came looking for…"

Calista.

"Me," she says.

"Yeah. But you weren't home. Your mom said you'd gone to pick up groceries."

Calista watches the whiskey slosh in her glass as she swirls it. "I was upstairs. I heard you." Her eyes travel to mine. "If we're being honest and trying to figure out what happened that day. I was still mad at you, that you'd not been excited about the idea of hacking them. And then I heard you tell Mom to tell me that it was done. I think your exact words were, ‘tell her I fixed the mess overnight so she shouldn't bother trying.' And I was furious that I'd put time into something that you prevented."

There's a thawing between us. I can feel it. As I study her face, trying to make sense of what she's thinking, I realize just how true my first thoughts about her outside that bank were. She's turned into a real beauty.

"I went home to Mom's house. Slept like the dead for the first time in days. And then came to your house. You were angry. Angrier than I've ever seen you. You told me you never wanted to see me again. That you'd kill me if I ever came near you. I was so crushed by that; I didn't know what to say to you. I thought it was a huge overreaction to me stopping your plan but that you'd get over it. So, I took a walk down to the shore. Everything was churned up inside me, like the waves. I'd made a deal I couldn't get out of for twelve months. I had to somehow let my folks down. And I'd done it all for you. But you hated me. I debated walking into the waves and letting them take me under."

"Tiberius," she says, followed by a sigh. Concern etches her features.

I shrug like it doesn't matter. "I didn't. Obviously. Decided to get some of those candies you like, the red-and-white-striped ones. But when I tried to get some cash out to pay for them, it said there was zero dollars in my bank account, and when I checked recent transactions, I saw the withdrawal had happened while I was looking at the sea, thinking of offing myself. When I came to confront you, you were gone, and your mom never opened the door to me ever again."

I bank down all the feelings that are swirling again. The sense that the bottom had just dropped out of my world. That I'd lost my best friend, tossed away the life I was going to have, and gotten stuck with a motorcycle club for what felt like forever.

I take Calista's hand in mine. Her fingers are slender. I always noticed how dainty her hands were when we used to game together. Long and thin fingers with stubby nails that she occasionally bit.

Now they are a glossy beige.

"Now that you know what happened to me, it's your turn to fill in the gaps," I say.

"You came over. I heard you asking Mom where I was, but I'd told her we'd had a big fight. Couldn't think of how else to explain it to her. She promised to stall. To keep you away. So, she lied and watched you turn for home. Once she was confident you were gone, she made me a large mug of hot chocolate and asked me what you'd fixed."

Tears brim in Calista's eyes, but she brushes them away.

"It's okay. I'm here."

She takes a sip of the whiskey. "No, it's just, I'm remembering how Mom did that one nice thing. She thought I'd just had a big fight with my best friend and wanted to do something to make me feel better. I think it was the last kind thing she ever did for me."

I can only imagine how that contrasts with how her mom is now. Unspoken hurt radiates from her, and despite everything that has happened between us, I want to take it from her and carry it. "Calista."

She swipes her hand through the air as if wiping everything she just said away. "Anyway, I refused to tell her, obviously. Then, about ten minutes later, the rear door from the yard to the kitchen was kicked open. And in poured the bikers. Cue Ball said he knew what I'd been up to. He said I had some fucking balls for thinking I could get away with it. He told me I had four hours to get out of New Jersey, and if he ever saw me here again, he'd kill me. And Wrinkle told me that if I told you, if you did anything reckless, like try to defend me, you'd die too. They had a knife to Mom's neck, and she put two and two together that it was something to do with what you had said about making something right. It cut her skin, not badly, but enough to start this slow and steady trickle of blood down her neck. She asked me what I'd done. She assumed I was guilty without asking."

Calista slams what's in her glass, then puts it down on the table.

I place my hand on her back. Her sweater is soft beneath my palm. I feel the bumps of her spine and have a momentary thought of how soft her skin likely is too.

"What did they do to you, Calista?"

"Can we just leave it?"

"If you need a break, sure. But I need to know it all."

She turns to glare at me, the look on her face wretched. "He humiliated me, okay? Cupped me in front of his friends. I was in my tank top and shorts. You want the full details? He gripped my nipples and pulled on them until I screamed. He licked the side of my face. And he choked me until I almost passed out."

Something inside me breaks at the thought of Cue Ball hurting her that way. I'd seen him in action with club girls. He was all about his own pleasure. A selfish lover. He was into pain to the point where most of the club girls avoided him.

"Why didn't you lie to him? Tell him you had no idea what he was talking about."

I hate myself that my actions, however well-intentioned and principled they were, led her to danger anyway.

Exasperation furrows her brow. "Because Mom's face told everyone she believed I'd done something wrong. And he knew so much about what was going on, I assumed you'd told him. He told me you'd fixed my mess, and now they were there to fix me."

That stings. "Why the fuck would you think I told him? You were my best friend."

"Because you came to my house first. I often wondered if you came with them but ducked out before they hurt me. Like, why did you come to my door that morning?"

"Because I wanted to tell you I'd beefed up their systems and you wouldn't be able to get in. Why didn't you tell me about it when I came back a second time?"

"Because I honestly didn't think my best friend would fuck off to a motorcycle club and stop me from doing what I was going to do. They smashed all my computer equipment that I'd worked and saved for. All except that old backup laptop that Malik donated."

Malik graduated college and just bought himself a new laptop with his small sign-on bonus. He passed the laptop to me, but I passed it on to Calista.

"I figured that you'd come back to gloat. That you'd come to reinforce what they'd already told me. And I hated you. I felt so utterly betrayed by you. I felt like the person I loved most in the world had thrown me to the lions. I was still reeling from what had happened that morning. From the…"

The unspoken word assault hangs between us.

I think about everything she's told me. "I'm sorry, Calista. In hindsight, it was a stupid move. I shouldn't have done it. What I should have done was find a way to convince you it was a really bad idea. What I should have done was persist on seeing you that morning. Fuck, I should have tried harder."

She huffs. "I should probably go. This is more honesty than I was prepared for today."

"Let's finish this," I say. Anger swirls inside me. Anger that can't be directed at Calista because it isn't her fault. Cue Ball is dead. Wrinkle is dead. And Camelot is dead so I can't ask him if he betrayed me. I guess I'll never know what happened that night because they all pretended we were friends every day since. But at least one of them is the reason Calista ran. Did Camelot give the order, or did Cue Ball come up with the idea by himself?

Knowing what I know now, Cue Ball was always jealous of Camelot. He felt that it was his family's turn to be president instead of vice president to Camelot's family. Perhaps that dislike and distrust ran deeper than any of us knew.

"They must have followed me home and I never noticed. I didn't tell them, so maybe they made a lucky guess or followed me to your place and heard me talk to your mom. Maybe they wired something, and I didn't notice it. My jacket. I took it off the moment I arrived and only put it back on when I left. Shit, I don't know. I wouldn't have thought them capable of that, though. They were tech neanderthals when I arrived."

Calista flops back on the sofa and looks at the ceiling. "I don't care how it happened. Just that it did. Mom was so shaken and furious. She told me all that ‘computer business' was going to get me into trouble one day. She told me if I was going to bring trouble to her door, that I should leave. I'd given most of my money away. So, I used Malik's old laptop, which was easy enough because he'd set it up for you, but you hadn't cleaned it up properly to give it to me."

"Rookie mistake," I say.

Calista smiles softly at that. "Yeah. It's amazing what we're both capable of now. But to pay you back, I took all your money to help me leave."

I think briefly of the Sicilians. I want to know if it's her, but honestly, I don't want her to look me in the eye and lie.

History could be repeating itself all over again, yet this time, I feel like Calista is more than my friend.

It feels like history is being re-written. Like I'm being given a second chance to map out how our story ends.

And I'm determined not to fuck it up again.