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Kristi, Jack, and I arrive at the cafe before all those memories begin to surface and then I force myself to come out of the past—out of my nightmare—and try my best to live in my prefabricated fantasy.
I desperately need that fantasy life. Reality is really not my thing. Because my reality is… my entire family is dead. And now that I think about it, I remember something else Vaughn Asher asked me something last night. Isn’t it better to live?
But when you are the reason your whole family is dead… then no. No, it’s not better to live. How do I live with the guilt of knowing I’m the reason they were murdered?
Chapter Two
#ThingsYouCantUnknow
“TALK TO me, Ray. How is no one tracking that car? How is the paparazzi not tracking that car?”
“They gave them the slip on the Strip, V. That crazy football wife bossed her way through traffic and made a turn. Then they just lost them.”
“Is that a rental car? Did someone get plates?”
“I don’t think it’s a rental car, it’s got a temporary plate taped to the back window. But the tint is so dark, no one could read them. I put a call into Johnny Blazen, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
Fuck. I scrub a hand down my face and just stand in the middle of my hotel bedroom. “We need to find Grace, Ray. Before the media does. I don’t think they know any more than they are reporting at this point, but Conner said that there’s more to her story and whatever that more is¸ I don’t want Grace to see it on TV before we find her.”
“I understand, boss.” Ray says that in his I’m-here-to-fix-things voice. “No matter who that car belongs to, it has to have GPS and is probably linked to a private security system that can access the location of the vehicle. So I’ll keep trying Blazen and see if we can’t figure out which room is his from hotel sources.”
“OK, thanks.” I end the call and walk over to the bed and sit down.
My bare feet can’t help but appreciate the soft sheepskin rug and that makes me smile. Grace brought it in here last night so that the first thing she would feel when she got up to start her day was the soft fur. I lean over and pick up the empty champagne bottle. We did drink a lot of champagne last night.
Does she really not remember?
God, that kills me. I mean, I knew we were both pretty drunk by that point, but hell, I had no idea she was that drunk. I’d never do that against her will. That’s just wrong.
And if she really doesn’t remember, there’s a chance she could remember at any moment. What if something jogs her memory and we’re not together to discuss it?
Ah, fuck. I grab my hair with both fists. “Fuck! Why does this have to happen now? Of all times?”
I turn on the TV and flip on the cable news. Midday news is mostly gossip and right now the Bellagio, Grace Kinsella, Vaughn Asher, Johnny Blazen, and Kristi the Fiancée are the only things people are talking about.
And then the picture of Daisy Bryndle goes up. Grace, age thirteen. The murder scene at her home, a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. The missing child reports that went out all over the country as they searched for her. Both as a suspect in the murder of her family and as an abducted child.
So confused were authorities on how to process the scene in a way that made sense, Grace was even on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. It was removed less than forty-eight hours after issue, but that’s not the point. A thirteen-year-old girl was on the FBI Most Wanted List. But they had to put someone on the list, I guess. They had no suspects other than Grace, even though it was highly unlikely that she would’ve been able to commit these murders alone.
The screen flashes to our fight outside the hotel. She’s crazed, I can tell. Her eyes are wild and they are darting all over the place. Trying to take in the scene. Trying to come to terms with the fact that the life she built, no matter how fake and fabricated, is over.
I want to stop watching as the scene repeats over and over, but I can’t. I just want to see her face. I just want to be able to see her face and I don’t have any pictures of her.
Wait. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and pull up my videos.
I smile big as I press play. It’s of the two of us arguing on the beach that first night we met. It’s only like a fifteen-second video, but I play it over and over. Because even though she’s mad, she’s not sad. She’s not scared. She’s vibrant and alive. She’s full of fight and demands.
That footage they are running outside the Bellagio, that’s not Grace at all.
That’s Daisy Bryndle.
Scared, defeated, lost Daisy Bryndle.
The door chimes and I walk out to the foyer and open it up. “Felicity, thank God.” She comes in without saying a word and takes a seat on the couch. She pulls out her laptop and sets it on the coffee table.
“Conner is on his way. He’s getting things set up for the Tray thing.”
“Did he tell you what happened to Grace?”
“Not all of it, he says some of it he needs to tell you in person. And I’d just like to caution you, V. Make sure this is how you want to find out about it. Because once you know, you can’t unknow. Things can’t be unknown, you understand?”
“I need to know,” I say quickly. “I need to know now.”
“Why?” Felicity asks, with an edge to her question. “Why do you need to know? Because if this will change your opinion about her, then I’d advise you to drop it. And drop her while you’re at it. Because this girl, Vaughn, she needs a win right now. She really needs a win. She needs someone who will stand by her, because this shit is about to get…” Felicity pauses, her eyes searching mine.
“What? It’s about to get what?”
“Disgusting. Revolting. Nauseating. Repulsive. It’s about to stop being about who murdered her family and start being about something else entirely. Something much, much worse.”
I sit on the couch opposite Felicity and stare at her. “You of all people, Felicity, should know me better.”
She nods and swallows hard. “I know, V. I do know you better, but I just need to make sure. Because Grace is gonna need you. She’s gonna need you like I needed you. And she’s never gonna admit that, ya know?”
“Like you never wanted to admit that, either.”
Felicity nods. “Yeah. Because this shit is private. And I don’t really want to show you, but I have always known you to be a good man, Vaughn. I know you have a shitty reputation and I also know you’ve earned it. But those people who see that side of you, they are the outsiders. Us insiders know that there’s a big difference between the man and the actor.”
I desperately need that fantasy life. Reality is really not my thing. Because my reality is… my entire family is dead. And now that I think about it, I remember something else Vaughn Asher asked me something last night. Isn’t it better to live?
But when you are the reason your whole family is dead… then no. No, it’s not better to live. How do I live with the guilt of knowing I’m the reason they were murdered?
Chapter Two
#ThingsYouCantUnknow
“TALK TO me, Ray. How is no one tracking that car? How is the paparazzi not tracking that car?”
“They gave them the slip on the Strip, V. That crazy football wife bossed her way through traffic and made a turn. Then they just lost them.”
“Is that a rental car? Did someone get plates?”
“I don’t think it’s a rental car, it’s got a temporary plate taped to the back window. But the tint is so dark, no one could read them. I put a call into Johnny Blazen, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
Fuck. I scrub a hand down my face and just stand in the middle of my hotel bedroom. “We need to find Grace, Ray. Before the media does. I don’t think they know any more than they are reporting at this point, but Conner said that there’s more to her story and whatever that more is¸ I don’t want Grace to see it on TV before we find her.”
“I understand, boss.” Ray says that in his I’m-here-to-fix-things voice. “No matter who that car belongs to, it has to have GPS and is probably linked to a private security system that can access the location of the vehicle. So I’ll keep trying Blazen and see if we can’t figure out which room is his from hotel sources.”
“OK, thanks.” I end the call and walk over to the bed and sit down.
My bare feet can’t help but appreciate the soft sheepskin rug and that makes me smile. Grace brought it in here last night so that the first thing she would feel when she got up to start her day was the soft fur. I lean over and pick up the empty champagne bottle. We did drink a lot of champagne last night.
Does she really not remember?
God, that kills me. I mean, I knew we were both pretty drunk by that point, but hell, I had no idea she was that drunk. I’d never do that against her will. That’s just wrong.
And if she really doesn’t remember, there’s a chance she could remember at any moment. What if something jogs her memory and we’re not together to discuss it?
Ah, fuck. I grab my hair with both fists. “Fuck! Why does this have to happen now? Of all times?”
I turn on the TV and flip on the cable news. Midday news is mostly gossip and right now the Bellagio, Grace Kinsella, Vaughn Asher, Johnny Blazen, and Kristi the Fiancée are the only things people are talking about.
And then the picture of Daisy Bryndle goes up. Grace, age thirteen. The murder scene at her home, a farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere. The missing child reports that went out all over the country as they searched for her. Both as a suspect in the murder of her family and as an abducted child.
So confused were authorities on how to process the scene in a way that made sense, Grace was even on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. It was removed less than forty-eight hours after issue, but that’s not the point. A thirteen-year-old girl was on the FBI Most Wanted List. But they had to put someone on the list, I guess. They had no suspects other than Grace, even though it was highly unlikely that she would’ve been able to commit these murders alone.
The screen flashes to our fight outside the hotel. She’s crazed, I can tell. Her eyes are wild and they are darting all over the place. Trying to take in the scene. Trying to come to terms with the fact that the life she built, no matter how fake and fabricated, is over.
I want to stop watching as the scene repeats over and over, but I can’t. I just want to see her face. I just want to be able to see her face and I don’t have any pictures of her.
Wait. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and pull up my videos.
I smile big as I press play. It’s of the two of us arguing on the beach that first night we met. It’s only like a fifteen-second video, but I play it over and over. Because even though she’s mad, she’s not sad. She’s not scared. She’s vibrant and alive. She’s full of fight and demands.
That footage they are running outside the Bellagio, that’s not Grace at all.
That’s Daisy Bryndle.
Scared, defeated, lost Daisy Bryndle.
The door chimes and I walk out to the foyer and open it up. “Felicity, thank God.” She comes in without saying a word and takes a seat on the couch. She pulls out her laptop and sets it on the coffee table.
“Conner is on his way. He’s getting things set up for the Tray thing.”
“Did he tell you what happened to Grace?”
“Not all of it, he says some of it he needs to tell you in person. And I’d just like to caution you, V. Make sure this is how you want to find out about it. Because once you know, you can’t unknow. Things can’t be unknown, you understand?”
“I need to know,” I say quickly. “I need to know now.”
“Why?” Felicity asks, with an edge to her question. “Why do you need to know? Because if this will change your opinion about her, then I’d advise you to drop it. And drop her while you’re at it. Because this girl, Vaughn, she needs a win right now. She really needs a win. She needs someone who will stand by her, because this shit is about to get…” Felicity pauses, her eyes searching mine.
“What? It’s about to get what?”
“Disgusting. Revolting. Nauseating. Repulsive. It’s about to stop being about who murdered her family and start being about something else entirely. Something much, much worse.”
I sit on the couch opposite Felicity and stare at her. “You of all people, Felicity, should know me better.”
She nods and swallows hard. “I know, V. I do know you better, but I just need to make sure. Because Grace is gonna need you. She’s gonna need you like I needed you. And she’s never gonna admit that, ya know?”
“Like you never wanted to admit that, either.”
Felicity nods. “Yeah. Because this shit is private. And I don’t really want to show you, but I have always known you to be a good man, Vaughn. I know you have a shitty reputation and I also know you’ve earned it. But those people who see that side of you, they are the outsiders. Us insiders know that there’s a big difference between the man and the actor.”
