Bran rolls his eyes, puts the guitar down and pushes to stand, as I watch in worry at the way he takes the base of the champagne bottle and tips it to his lips, head thrown back. He drains the entire thing, raising an eyebrow in challenge as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. The air is thick with tension and thankfully Bran just shakes his head, taking off after his brother once he’s whispered something to Mavis on the rug.
“I know you’re upset, but you don’t need to act like that.” I sigh, brushing my palm over the long strands of grass.
He just shrugs. “Did I want to sit out here where I spent time yesterday puking my guts up? No. Sometimes you just have to get on with your shit.”
I don’t look up as he dumps the bottle on the grass and heads in the direction of the house, but at the last minute he turns off into the tree line, which will take him around the house to the out buildings. I know one of us should possibly go after his swaying ass, but some time alone in the woods could sober him up enough to not act like a total dickweed.
“Do you think one of us did it?” Mavis’s concerned curiosity brings my attention away from his retreating form, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.
I don’t reply straight away, but Cardinal does. “I think anyone is capable of anything if given a strong enough reason.”
That's something I can agree with, but the idea of any guest here this weekend being responsible is ludicrous.
“What do you think your secret is?” I aim at him, because that’s what this comes down to. Unless someone knew of Corbin’s whereabouts this weekend and came onto the property to murder him, the only other option is one of us here is a killer. Unsure which fictional detective said it first, but the obvious answer is usually the right one. The secrets had to be connected somehow; it couldn’t be a coincidence.
Shuffling his feet outstretched in front of him, he looks down. “I think my secret will be something stupid from when I was younger. I was part of an elite sports team and well, we all had thelads will be ladsmentality. A lot of people let us get away with stuff because we were just having fun, or because of our family name.”
My lip curls at the thought of grown men being allowed to do what they want, but it’s Willow that answers.“That’s disgusting.”
”Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“How would Corbin know about that stuff though?”
“Aya could have told him, or Father. They seemed cosy when I saw them together—like it wasn’t the first time they’d had meetings. He could have spoken about those days, or just wanted to brag.”
“Would he have written one of her secrets too?” I ask, unable to contain the thought. We share a look and both don’t have to answer.
“It doesn’t matter how he got the secrets, they’re out there and we need to find them before the detectives do.” Mavis' tone is nonchalant, and I’m surprised she's the one joining in with our conversation. Willow swings her dark hair into Cardinals face, standing and I think she even pops out her hip on purpose to make sure he notices her bum. He doesn’t even hide looking, but curses under his breath and returns to looking utterly furious at being with us. Grabbing the empty bottles, she says goodbye to only Mavis and Jay, leaving our weird unit of misfits to stare off up at the house.
“Finding the clues is really hard.” Jay mutters, reminding me that Cardinal in fact found a new secret. Like he can read my thoughts, when I look up to where he’s perched alone on the sofa, he already has the curled piece of paper to hand.
“Knock yourself out Drew.”
Taking it with both hands, I smooth the curling edges out, reading the typed letters.
Looks like Gatsby has been selling stories to the press. Poor MR Wilson.
I cringe. “Willow wouldn’t have actually done that? Sell stories about Wren when she was with him?” I ask, turning to look at Mavis because she knows her better than either of us. No wonder he’s never wanted to date, not if they could sell his personal information like he means nothing.
“I mean, technically they never dated. It was just one time.” She defends, but winces as she looks down at where Bran left the guitar on the grass. Her short silver strands swayed as she shakes her head, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes. She knew her best friend was capable of something like this, but it sucked to have to face reality sometimes. Jay pats her thigh in what looked like a comforting gesture, but she quickly shuffled away from his touch. My brows furrow and something close to panic flashes in her eyes, like a rabbit caught in a snare.
“I don’t think we should tell him.” Jay shrugs, and I can’t quite believe this is coming from one of his friends.
“Seriously?” I ask and he just shrugs again.
“It’ll only cause an argument and I don’t think I can deal with either of them trying to kill each other.” That we can all agree with, but I still don't commit to not telling Wren the truth.
Crumpling up the paper, I let it fall onto the rug and get to my feet as the others do. I have no idea what the guys had originally planned for today, but maybe I can help ease the tensions by offering to help with lunch, or even find Phoenix to help sober him up. He’ll no doubt sulk about snapping and upsetting his boyfriend, but what I don’t want is for him to spiral out in the forest when he could be with his support system.
“Do you believe in redemption? That if someone’s not too far gone, they can be redeemed?”
I turn to Cardinal and see a glimpse of vulnerability in his expression, which I’m unsure I was meant to see. Letting both Mavis and Jay walk ahead to the patio, I run my fingers across the pleats of my dress. I want to shrug and tell him I think a person can, but the only man I’ve known in need of redemption, was already so far into the distance of darkness, it was too late to do anything to help.
His question worries me, causing my throat to feel tight. “Cardy, what did you do?”
He doesn’t answer me, but instead continues like I hadn’t asked what his deepest secret could be. “I think they can. I’m not a good man by any means, I’m really not. Every day I try to do better. Surely that has to count for something?”
I nod, because maybe the acknowledgement of wanting to be better does count
