LISA
..
..
If I could calm the fuck down, this would go by easier. I'm nervous as fuck and with the way my foot keeps tapping against the table leg and how often I readjust in my office chair, everyone in this room knows it.
My family's main lawyer, Michael McHale, plus Mino and Nate. Forcing out a steady breath, I do everything I can to focus as Mino's hand comes down on my shoulder.
As if that will be enough to bring me back to the conversation.
They continue to discuss the possibility of a deposition or facing charges now that they've ruled Jisoo's disappearance a murder. How the fuck that happened, I don't know. I don't even fucking care. My gaze continues to drift to my phone that's facedown on the desk.
I could so easily flip it over and watch her. All I want to know is whether or not she's going to take the out. It's fucking killing me.
Don't leave me, Jennie.
How fucking selfish of me to want her to stay when I know I should have never touched her. The photograph of Jisoo that aired on the local news last night is placed down in front of me. She's younger in the picture than when she started working here; that much is obvious from a glance at her fresh face with no makeup and her hair pulled back. Smiling and celebrating completing basic field training.
Remorse and regret spark a dull flame that's quickly extinguished. She knew what she was doing and she knew there were only two ways for it to end.
And she brought my Jennie into this.
"They aired that she's believed to be dead although her body hasn't been found."
"On what basis?" Mino questions.
"They announced they had clear persons of interest who were potential suspects, but we haven't received or heard anything from the DA."
"How soon can we expect to be questioned?" Nate asks. I've known him for years and I know his tells. He's anxious and for good reason. He's the one who disposed of her. If he fucked up anything, they'll be able to pin on it him first.
"It depends on how the deposition in the—"
"Who's being deposed?" Mino asks for clarification.
"Nate first." At the confident declaration, a quiet Nate meets my lawyer's gaze and nods in understanding. "Then we can expect them to make the rounds until they've gone through every employee."
"Working from the bottom to the top," Mino comments dryly and then leans back in his seat. I'm at the head of the desk with Mino beside me. Nate is seated across to our right and Michael is to our left. While we're all in suits, Nate wears a thin tie, our lawyer a bow tie and Mino and I have none. My sleeves are rolled up to my forearms and without my jacket, I'm certainly the least professional-looking one in the room.
"Anything in particular I can expect in questioning?" Nate asks.
"If it's just being hauled in for questioning, demand a lawyer and don't say shit," I tell him.
"I meant deposition," Nate clarifies. It'll be his first if they go through with it.
The cops arrested one of the men who work here, Bardot, and the DA brought charges of drug trafficking. Now they're using that to force every single person who's worked for us to testify under oath in a deposition.
It's not the first time we've been through this shit. Won't be the last.
But given the murmurs and questioning around first Jisoo, then Ronnie, then Hale … loyalty is questionable.
"I'll be there and object to anything and everything. Don't answer without a nod from me. I don't care what they ask; until I nod, you stay silent." Our lawyer is a shark and we still have a firm grip on enough of the DA's office that it's not too concerning.
So all of this is simply eating up the time between now and the moment I check to see if Jennie is waiting for me.
"We should talk about the girl," McHale brings up and my gaze is quick to move from the hardwood desk to his pale blues behind wire-rimmed glasses.
"Is she all right?" he asks. I know the hidden question behind those four words. Is she dead?
"She's fine," I answer over Mino who opened his mouth to speak. Pushing my sleeves up further, I ignore the prick at the back of my neck and all the nerves on high alert at the mere thought of her being pulled into this. Now is not the time to let her run. I was the one who pulled the trigger to get it over with. I only pray I haven't fucked up everything even more than I already have.
"Does her family know that?" he asks. "Her mother has been calling around and even showed up at The Club looking for her."
"When was that?"
"A few days ago."
"She's been texting her mom. She's fine, was just sick for a moment."
My lawyer's stare is that of a man who's used to reading between the lines.
Scowling, I tell him, "She was actually sick. A cold or something. She's better now but resting up. I'm doing what I can to spoil her given how she's had a difficult couple of weeks."
"So she's good?" he asks, his brow raised.
"She's good," Mino declares.
"Would she be good if she was brought in for questioning?" McHale questions and anger heats every inch of me. She needs to stay out of this.
"Jisoo was her friend, right? She was seen with her the week she died?"
"You would be there if she was questioned or deposed, so she would be fine," Mino says to me and it's silent a moment. Michael's reading between the lines of what Mino is suggesting.
My head spins with the possibility of her in questioning. It's too fucking risky. All of it is.
"What about E?" McHale continues. He's referring to a business associate of ours. His real name is Ian, but for some fucking reason he goes by E.
When Bardot got arrested and didn't show up for work … it caused a bit of a stir. E doesn't have time or patience. He doesn't work for us but it's to our benefit to keep business flowing with E in upstate New York.
"We'll get him what he needs. He knows this kind of thing is just part of the game."
"He's anxious and for good reason, but I'll reach out and smooth things over. Reassure him that everything is fine," Mino answers, shifting slightly in his seat and I'm almost certain it's the only move he's made for the last twenty minutes.
"Any word from Marcus?"
"He's still quiet," Mino answers and a cold chill runs down my spine.
"Quiet isn't bad," Michael suggests.
"In the case of Marcus, it's not good either."
There are far too many players, and far too many power moves going on at once for me to be distracted by Jennie. Yet she's all I can think about. What she does next is the only thing that seems to matter.
All I keep picturing is her in that room, knowing she has an out and taking it. Fuck, if she knew everything, she'd be smart to leave me.
"Lisa?" Michael's tone prods me from my thoughts back to the present where three sets of eyes bore into me with concern. Waiting for a response. "Did you hear me?"
Clearing my throat I shake my head slightly and wait for my lawyer to repeat whatever he said.
"We were given a heads-up that the officer in charge is working with a judge who isn't in our back pocket."
"Right. We knew he probably would."
"So, prepare for questioning. Nate first, but they're more than likely planning to pick you up and you should decide where you want that to happen. Here? In The Club, or at home or … let me know so I can plant that seed."
This isn't the first time I'll be picked up by the cops for questioning. It's the first time that I've thought about who will be with me when they do, though.
What she'll see and what she'll think. And who will be there for Jennie if it's just the two of us and they take me away.
"Let me know," McHale prods for an answer and instead of giving him a time and place, I hesitate and let him know I'll get back to him.
I need to take care of her first. I can't handle all of this shit without knowing if she's even going to be there. I take a glance at my brother as every thought of what she'd do if they pulled her in for questioning races in my mind and I find his gaze on me just the same.
It's unsettling. Every detail we've gone over feels like it could be the one that ends us.
..
JENNIE
..
..
I haven't touched the money yet. Although I stare at it from the bed and even as I stand here, in front of the dresser while I slip on black leggings that feel like silk and an oversized soft wool sweater, I can smell it.
Lisa said the stacks added up to over a million. And it sits there, only inches away.
Letting out an uncomfortable sigh, I stare at the door and wish I were anywhere else. I wish I could simply go home or go to my mother's.
This room is a test, this estate is a trap and it's like I'm playing mind games with the devil every minute that ticks by.
The one question every decision seems to ride on is whether or not she loves me. Does Lisa love me?
It feels like she does when she's with me but sometimes it also feels like she's testing me, like she's waiting for me to fail and I know that's not love. This could all be a sick twisted game for her. There is so much more darkness to Lisa than I know. I'm all too aware she's done things that would chill me to my core. Can a woman like that truly love anyone? Let alone me?
My heart aches questioning it. Because I love her. Every dark crevice that makes her who she is … it only makes me want to love her more … even if it gets me killed.
The phone ringing on the nightstand sends a jolt of panic through me. As if I've been caught in the act of thinking too much, thinking about things I shouldn't be.
I stare at it from where I am. Even though Lisa gave it to me, it's not really my phone. Even as I answer the call I know, it's just another test.
"Mama," I say, greeting her with a tone that's meant to appease her.
"Nini, where are you?" Her words are riddled with so much emotion. "I'll come pick you up." The eagerness in her voice pains me.
"A little sick."
"Still?" I've always been a bad liar and I hate to lie to my mother. I'd be a fool to think Lisa or her family at least, doesn't have this phone wired or tapped or whatever the hell they do. As I sit on the edge of the bed, I get a look at the money again. I don't trust anything. It's all a damn test and I just want it to be over so my life can go back to normal. Or as normal as it can ever be after all of this.
"I just want to stay in and watch shows, Mama."
"Let me bring you soup," she suggests, her voice hopeful. "It's been too long that you've been sick. Let me check on you."
"I'll see you soon, Mama, but I can't see you right now." There's a hesitation on her end. Silence is all I'm given and inside I'm filled with shame. So much so that tears prick the back of my eyes. How? I don't know. They're sore and red rimmed from days on end of sobbing. I've never felt so weak and helpless. So utterly fucking useless and pathetic.
"Are you angry with me?" my mother asks quietly and I have to gather my composure.
"No, no, Mama," I say as quickly as I can.
"Is this about Kai?" It's after she says his name that I can tell my mother is crying. It fucking kills me. I hate this. I hate all of it.
"No, Mama. Please. I just …" I want to tell her a sliver of the truth. I fell in love with someone I shouldn't have. But instead I tell her, "I miss you, Mama, and love you. Don't worry. I'll see you soon."
"Why can't I see you now?" As my mother questions me, a low, steady beep comes from the window. It startles me at first; it seems like anything and everything does now. It takes a moment for me to realize it's a truck. They're doing construction outside like Lisa told me they would. Aria's words come back to me; she said it would be the perfect time to run.
"I have to go, Mama," I tell her to try to get her off the phone before I say things I shouldn't.
"You would tell me if you were hurt or if someone was hurting you, wouldn't you?" She sniffles on the other end although with how muffled it is, it seems she's trying to hide it from me.
"Yes," I lie to her. "Of course I would."
"You're okay?" she asks again, as if she doesn't believe me and I wish she would. I wish she would be content with the lies.
"I'm just a little sick and I don't want to leave the bed." She carries on for a while, poking and prodding and I continue to lie to her. Over and over until she lets me hang up the phone. I'm not lying when I tell her I love her, though, and I hope I'm not lying when I say I'll see her soon.
My words stay with me even after the conversation is over: I'm just a little sick and I don't want to leave the bed.
When I hang up, I realize how true those words are. I don't want to leave the bed. I don't want to risk seeing her family. I don't want to risk walking down the corridor and remembering what happened in the room with the tub. I can barely breathe thinking about it now. As I lower myself to the mattress, I realize just how paralyzing this situation is.
All I want is to stay right here until Lisa comes home and tells me what I can do. Because if I don't wait for her … all I keep thinking is that I don't want to die.
..
LISA
..
..
The relief I felt when I checked the security system and saw she didn't touch the money and she was still there in my bed waiting for me leaves me the moment I open the bedroom door and get a glimpse of the state she's in.
She didn't take the money. She didn't run. But my Jennie is a shell of herself.
At the sound of the door closing, her wide, red-rimmed eyes peer up at me. Swallowing thickly, I push down the thought that resonates the most. Propped up on her side, her body's stiff as the silence settles between us. I fucking hate myself for what I've done to her.
"My mother called," she tells me as I unbutton the collar of my shirt. I can barely look at her as she tattles on herself. "We talked briefly but I didn't tell her anything."
I hum a response and then pull my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the floor. As I kick my shoes off by their heels, I face her and a small smile forms on its own from the sight of her staring up at me.
Wanting approval, from me. She fucking needs it.
"You can talk to your mother whenever you'd like … I trust you."
Her throat tightens as she swallows and then explains, "She wants to see me."
With one knee on the bed, I pause before giving her an inch of freedom. "If you want to see her, Nate can take you whenever and wherever you'd like."
I expect her to be relieved, maybe even excited but the blood drains from her face.
Under the baggy sweater, my Jennie appears so small and fragile. Her lips are no longer the dark red that tempts me, her eyes carry that color instead. And it shames me.
"Nate?" She barely breathes his name. Fear takes residence in her expression. A crease settles in my forehead as my brow pinches. Is she so afraid she needs me to come with her? What all did Aria tell her?
The bed groans as I lean back against the headboard and lay an arm out. "Come," I command gently.
I've never thought of Jennie as frail or weak. Never once until this past week. I thought she simply needed to recover, but the woman who lies beside me, closing her eyes the moment her side meets mine — she's broken.
Her heart beats so fast and hard, I can hear it before she swallows thickly. "I don't want you out alone …" I nearly tell her about the feds and the depositions. I nearly confess that there's a very strong chance she's going to be questioned about Jisoo's death. But peering down at her, she already appears on edge. Mino's words haunt me: she's fucking terrified.
"I wanted to go home and grab some things, swing by my mother's and if I—"
"Nate can take you or I can when a few things blow over."
Her deep brown eyes stay wide open, staring aimlessly at my chest.
I pull her closer and hold her tighter. I run my hand through her hair and attempt to comfort her.
"Could you take me tonight?" she questions and her voice is tight. As if she needs my answer to be yes.
McHale told me to stay in. Not to go anywhere. There's a high chance of a raid soon in The Club. How do I tell her that? "I'm stuck here too tonight, my naïve girl." Nate's deposition is scheduled, so there's no risk for him going out. She'll stay away from all the bullshit that being out with me puts her at risk of witnessing.
"You're stuck with me?" she questions in a raspy voice.
"It all needs to die down for the moment, so I'd rather we didn't go anywhere tonight or at all this week."
With a kiss on her temple, I expect her to understand but she doesn't.
"I can't stay here forever," she whispers.
"Whatever you need from your house, Nate can go get," I offer her.
She squirms uncomfortably. "I don't want Nate to take me anywhere or …"
"Nate is going to look after you and do whatever I order him to do. You are mine," I tell her, gripping her chin and tilting it upward so she's forced to look at me. She averts her gaze until I run the pad of my thumb over her lips.
"He scares me," she confesses.
I almost ask her why, because I'm a fucking fool. She witnessed him murder her friend in cold blood. Even if she was a rat, it's something she's never seen. He was there in the room when everything happened to her … when they tortured her.
I bring my lips lower, the tip of my nose brushing along hers and speak lowly and carefully so she hears every word. "Do you believe me when I tell you I would kill him if he ever made you feel uncomfortable?"
The thought enters my mind that it would ease so much of her worry if I simply let him go. If I slit his throat and he was eliminated from this complication. But everyone knows he has a deposition. The feds as well as my allies. It wouldn't be a good look in the least for me to kill three of my own men in a single week while cops are rounding up the others.
The web we've weaved is far too tangled.
"Yes," she answers and gives a short nod, her expression softening slightly. It doesn't ease my own irritation in the least.
"I told you, no one is going to hurt you."
"If that were true, though, I could leave … unless this is a test. Unless I'm locked in here for some other reason," she tells me. Staring me in the eyes, as steady as can be.
"My sweet naïve girl, you say the quiet part out loud too often."
With that, I kiss her gently and as I do, she trembles in my embrace and I fucking hate myself all over again.
"Take your medicine," I tell her, wishing she could sleep through all of this.
..
..
..
