Author's Note: BAM! Here's another chapter just for you. It's another set-up chapter, but Jessie does make an appearance and even interacts with Katie, although unwittingly. Read on to find out what I'm talking about. And I apologize for the ridiculously slow pace, not just writing-wise but for Katie as well – for someone so clever and articulate, she sure is a dumb ass when it comes to realizing what the hell her feelings are. But she will come to terms with it eventually, I promise you.

Feedback: Always appreciated. Always, always. If you have a problem with something, speak up as long as it's constructive. If you have any questions, I'm always glad to answer them. Or if you just want to blurt out any random comments, that's cool too because the more feedback I receive, the more I feel like updating. And praises won't hurt either.


PART XIII: Like a Swing to the Shins

"Well?" I asked, arching my eyebrows partly due to curiosity and partly because I found Katie appealing in my scanty silk robe, which was coming loose as she bobbed down the marble staircase. It was dangerously short on me and Katie was two inches taller. When she approached in that seductive swagger of hers, it became increasingly apparent she wasn't wearing anything underneath. But she didn't try to cover up or tighten the ribbon around her waist. Katie was such a tease; a narcissist. She knew I was watching and loved it.

"Grace is now upstairs, asleep and naked in your bed," she said in a tone revealing she had done this many times before. "You may commence taking incriminating photos of her, as I have already done myself." Katie amazingly pulled out a handful of Polaroid pictures from a surreptitious pocket within the tiny robe like a rabbit from a top hat.

I flipped through Katie's photos of Grace in the nude, which were rather bland – in terms of subject, not composition. Then like a toy found at the bottom of a cereal box, there was the prize.

"Is she wearing a sombrero?" I asked, trying not to laugh as I held the last photograph which captured Grace, naked and unconscious, staged in an over-sized Mexican hat.

"Uh-huh," confirmed Katie, glancing at the photo.

"What's that next to her?" I asked, pointing to the small white circle by her face.

Katie took the photo from me in order to inspect it closer. She smiled. "Oh, it's a thought bubble that says, '¡Ay dios mío, Katie Singer es muy caliente!'" She noticed the incredulity on my face and shrugged. "I got bored."

"What's that say under it?" Our attention returned to the photo.

"'Me gusta mucho mucho sex…" Katie squinted to see better."'o.'"

"Well, well done, Singer," I said, genuinely satisfied.

"Please," scoffed Katie as she sauntered into the kitchen. "It's nothing to be proud about considering the ridiculous lack of difficulty."

She pulled out a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and drank directly from the spout.

"When has that ever stopped you from being proud of yourself?" I countered with a smirk. I studied the beads of sweat that ran down her neck as she titled her head up to drink. My gaze ran lower as one disappeared into the open crevasse between her breasts, but was interrupted when she brought down her head again, grimacing.

"Your orange juice is spoiled."

"No," I said, taking the carton from her. "It just has vodka mixed into it."

"You know you're an alcoholic when…" teased Katie.

I took a huge swig before offering it back to her. She held up a declining hand. I placed the carton back into the fridge, but not before taking another nip.

"Sorry you couldn't get it on video," said Katie out of the blue as she searched the overhead cupboards.

I furrowed my brow, lost at first, but then I remembered Grace's seduction and the distribution deal I planned to get out of it. "Oh, don't be," I said, picking a strand of hair off my cashmere sweater. It was brown and short. Wasn't mine. "I have a hidden camera installed in my room."

"Somebody went a little crazy with the voyeurism," said Katie as she inspected an unlabeled jar before frowning and promptly returning it to the shelf.

"No, that's always been there, even before I bugged Grace and Eli's houses."

Katie's body tensed. She turned to me; her mouth slightly agape. "Even when we…"

I smirked, recalling the memory of her. Us. "Uh-huh… And let me tell you, you are very photogenic..." My gaze lowered again as I surveyed her body. "Especially your butt."

"That's vain and borderline creepy…" reproached Katie as she sat down on one of the high-backed stools by the counter. "Burn me a copy?"

"Sure."

I placed the paper bag which I had been holding onto the countertop and from it removed a take-out container, which I intended to put in the fridge. But Katie's hunger-filled eyes spotted it first.

"What's in the container?" she asked nonchalantly, trying not to alert my guard.

"Blackened chicken," I replied, discreetly pulling the container closer to me, my arms slowly huddling together. "I got it from the new Cajun restaurant on St. Mark's…"

"Thank god! I'm starving," said Katie, artfully snatching up the container.

"Hey!" I reached out my hands, trying to take it back.

"Ah-ah…" Katie held up her index finger in protest. "I do the deed. You provide the feed."

My eyes narrowed. "Please don't ever make a rhyme about sex again."

"No promises…" She pulled out a fork from the drawer and began to eat what was mine. I didn't mind as much, seeing as I would take what was hers when the opportunity arose.

My phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. Instantly, my eyes widened. "Oh! Shh! It's Lily!" I shouted as a sudden surge of pleasure – no, not pleasure, but the anticipation of it – surfaced. "She's probably wondering what became of her daughter." I tried to compose myself, but it's hard to sound serious when excitement is building in your lungs, pressing against your throat, threatening to burst through. I exhaled a deep breath then unfolded my mobile. "Hello?"

"Shall we send her the pictures or the video?" asked Katie with a playful grin.

"Shh!" I commanded. I cupped my hand over the receiver to prevent Lily from hearing Katie or at least muffle Katie's voice from being discernible.

"I can compose the score myself…" she continued, rudely leaning closer to the phone in order to undermine my efforts. "Baum chicka waa wow. Boom chicka yeah yeah…"

I rolled up the paper bag and hit her with it. She laughed which provoked me to involuntarily smile. I turned away so I could concentrate on Lily's voice. It sounded worried; troubled; deeply hurt. She was hurt. Not physically, but emotionally, which is ten times greater and subsequently ten times more enjoyable, for me at least, because while physical scars can fade, emotional ones – they can last forever.

"No, Mrs. Manning. I haven't seen Grace…" The tremble in her voice grew. I reveled in her growing anxiety. "Yes. I'll call you when I do."

Katie stood up and dropped her fork in the now empty container. It amazed me how fast she ate. "I need to take a shower. I reek of idiot."

"Okay, take care now," I said calmly into the phone. "Bye!" I hung up my mobile and began to laugh riotously, releasing what I had held in for so long. It took every ounce of my restraint to prevent myself from confessing to Lily about Grace's whereabouts and what had happened to her dear, darling daughter. I wanted to tell her, but it wasn't out of guilt or compulsion to help her, but out of desire to torment her even more. In the end, however, I decided not knowing and only suspecting the horrors that could befall her daughter was worse, much worse.

The sound of suffering in one's voice is one of the most beautiful things in the world; second to actually seeing it in one's eyes. Simply the raw emotion of it; the pain. It exposed one's humanity; brought depth to her very soul. To know this person would never look at the world the same way again. Always doubting; always weary; walking scarred, with a limp. And to know you were the cause of this disillusionment; this change – it's the most empowering feeling. "Oh my god!" I squealed, grabbing the remote off the Italian marble countertop. "I need to see her face. This is fucking priceless!" I turned on the kitchen television, tuning in to the feed of the surveillance cameras.

"Sadist," teased Katie as she made her way out of the kitchen.

"Hypocrite," I countered to her retreating back.

Then like a swing to the shins, she appeared.

------

"Eli, can I talk to you?"

As soon as I heard that voice, I froze mid-step. That voice. Her voice. I hadn't heard it for days, but I recognized it instantly. I rewound what she had said in my mind, trying to process her; anything about her. 'Eli…' She knew Eli? How? Through Sarah? No. Sarah never talked to Jessie. She hated mentioning the very name.

"What's up?"

Eli spoke with a light, comfortable tone. It was obvious Jessie visited him often. Were they friends? Lovers? Was he another obstacle I had to overcome? Another barrier of Jessie's denial that I had to break through?

I was afraid to turn around; to confirm what I suspected, so I stayed stood in the doorway, scrambling to hear her voice.

"There's this girl at school…" she finally said after a long maddening pause. "And– I don't know. Sometimes she just makes me so mad."

My heart quickened. There was no doubt she was talking about me.

"Why? Is she bullying you or something?"

What if she said that I had? Would he want to beat me up? Could I take him? I tried to size up Eli from my memory of him on the television. Compared his size to Grace's then mine to hers. He wasn't that much taller than me. A good charge to the stomach and he'd go down. My mind buzzed, strategizing different tactics until Jessie's voice interrupted again, gaining my full attention.

"No, no. Not really… Well, she made fun of Braden."

"What she say?"

Jessie let out an annoyed sigh. "Something stupid like his head is so big she can't believe he doesn't fall over or whatever."

Eli burst into laughter, which caused me to smile. He had my sense of humor and suddenly I didn't feel as threatened anymore.

"Eli!" Jessie scolded, and I could picture the red in her cheeks and the furrow between her eyebrows as she frowned.

"Sorry, but dude has a big head," said Eli bluntly. Jessie must have still been pouting because Eli promptly apologized. He then returned to the initial topic and asked, "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know." I turned around, no longer satisfied with her voice and my memory of her. I felt a need to see her; learn her face again.

Jessie sat on Eli's bed, cross-legged, as he lay back against the headboard. She was dressed in pajama pants and a white shirt whose graphic was faded and barely discernable. 'Why is she dressed in her pajamas?' I wondered, 'Are they sleeping together?' "She's just…" Jessie searched the ceiling before lowering her gaze to the cuff of her pants. She pulled at a loose thread. "That attitude. Like she knows me or something. And that smug grin of hers, how it just cricks up on one side and dimples against her stupid high cheekbones." Jessie lifted her head up again. Her eyes in a faraway gaze. "And the way she walks…" Jessie quickly shook her head, rattling unwanted thoughts so they could sink to the bottom of her subconscious. "Ugh! And whenever I see her, my– my face gets really hot and my heart beats like a mile a minute and– and she gets me so riled up I can barely speak…" Jessie inhaled deeply, winded from her rant. "Or breathe."

Eli studied Jessie; a smirk slowly creeping onto his lips. "Well, I don't think you're mad at her."

"No?" Jessie looked at Eli with a furrowed brow of disbelief.

"No, I think it's something much worse."

"It is?" Jessie sat up straight; her eyes wide with worry.

"Jessie…" he exhaled; a tone of hopelessness in his voice. "I think you're in love with her." He stared at Jessie gravely, which caused her whole body to tense, and in her eyes there seemed to be a flash of realization. But it only lasted a moment, interrupted when Eli released the laughter that he had been holding in.

Jessie relaxed and exhaled the breath that was trapped in the tension of her throat. "Ha-ha, very funny," said Jessie, not amused. And for some reason, I felt hurt. 'Would that be so funny?'

"You're my big brother. Aren't you supposed to make me feel better?"

And suddenly I felt my heart noticeably stop, although brief, as my body arrested in shock, halting all air travel and subsequent blood circulation. 'Her brother?'

"Do I look like mom to you?" he retorted, melodramatically feigning boorishness. He grabbed a yellow foam ball off his bedside table and threw it at her.

"Well, maybe if you put on a blonde wig," teased Jessie as she palmed the yellow ball. She gave it a squeeze then grinned at Eli. "And stuff your shirt with grapefruits…" She threw the ball back at him.

"It would bring a whole new meaning to 'fruit,'" joked Eli as he placed the ball underneath his shirt and examined the difference.

Jessie smiled half-heartedly. Her problem still was unresolved. "So what should I do?"

Eli studied his sister's troubled look and sighed. "The way I see it, you have two choices." He counted them off on his fingers. "You could either A) ignore her or B) talk to her and find out what's up between you guys."

Jessie's head fell tilted to the side as she closed her eyes and mulled over her two choices. After a moment, she shut her eyes tighter and inhaled deeply. "Can't I just go back and live with mom?"

'No. Stay.'

"Aw, Jess, it's not that bad." Eli reached out a consoling hand and stroked his sister's arm. The yellow foam ball still sat beneath his shirt.

"Fine…" Jessie crawled off the bed, preparing to leave. "Rehearsals are tomorrow anyway. I'll inevitably have to talk to her."

Finally Eli noticed the unusual elevation in his chest. After performing a self-mastectomy, he squeezed the ball in his hand and smiled.

"Will it make you feel better if I convince dad to wear a blonde wig and stuff grapefruits down his shirt?"

"Eli…"

I felt stupid for not realizing it earlier. He was her brother. Of course… He was her brother. Shit. This would undoubtedly complicate things. It connected Grace and Jessie and subsequently increased the chances of being discovered, not to mention the risk of being killed by Eli twice over. He was her brother. That was what Sarah was hinting at earlier in her annoyingly cryptic way. "More than you think," she had said in response to my comment on the incestuousness of the upper class. She knew Eli was Jessie's brother and she didn't tell me. 'Why?' No, I knew why – because she was a cruel, sadistic bitch. She wanted me to find out on my own, and she wanted to be there when I did in order to savor the panic on my face. She loved inciting reactions; any reaction at all that acknowledged her existence and her power to control others, and I was no exception. In fact, I was her most favorite target of all – a difficult challenge greatly prized when won.

I was slipping. With Sarah knowing information before me, she had the upper hand. I had to gain more footing or I would inevitably fall… 'for her.' No! What was I thinking? Love? I can't fall in love. Love was merely a tool of subjugation; a weakness that caused people to become dependent on each other. 'I can't fall in love. I won't. I refuse.' I decided to hurry up and get the wager over with so I could once more be the one on top; so I could finally forget about Jessie. With every passing day, she gained more and more control of reason for my every thought; my every action. I couldn't let this happen. And what was this burning feeling weighing heavy in my chest whenever she withdrew from me? This pain at the back of my eyes on the verge of pouring through?

"There it is," said Sarah, awakening me from my reverie. She was studying my face intently as a devilish grin curled the corners of her lips. "The most beautiful thing in the world."