“Idon’t know how you plan to do this. We can’t go anywhere without a fucking camera trailing us,” Sebastian muttered when I suggested we go to Charles Hodder’s house and try to find out what we could about his relationship with my mother.
“So, we lose them.” I waved my hand dismissively, despite the growing knot in my belly. Ever since the PR team leaked word of what happened on set, we’d become the shiniest, newest, most exciting toy for the people who got paid to take photos and make up stories about us. I couldn’t go anywhere without having someone with a camera take photos or ask me questions. Sebastian, after being cleared from the rape accusations—started by who knows who—and both of us agreeing that no legal action would be taken, had to start escorting me home, driving behind me every night and then going to his place twenty minutes in the other direction. It was exhausting, hiding from the paparazzi while also trying to plan murders.
Tonight, I’d gone to his house. We were going to watch theITTV mini-series that starred Tim Curry.
“You really think we can take a few fast turns and they won’t find us? That’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard, and living in Hollywood, I’ve heard some doozies.” Sebastian pushed the dogs off him and walked over to where I’d been pacing, twirling my knives like batons through my fingers. I still hadn’t had a chance to use them. It felt like such a waste after all the trouble my mom went through to get them to me. Even Skye got to use them before I did, and that didn’t sit right with me.
I needed to stab someone.
Sebastian caught my wrists mid-twirl and pulled them to my sides. “Evie, I’m not opposed to this idea, but we’ve gotta be smart about it. Come sit, and let’s think.”
I pouted slightly as he took my knives, setting them on the coffee table. He dragged me to the couch and onto his lap as he plopped down. I wrapped my arms around his neck and snuggled into his chest. I knew the position was intimate, far too intimate for a casual hookup relationship, but it was comfortable. While I’d fought it for so long, I couldn’t deny there was comfort in our history.
That night in thePsychohouse changed things. It wasn’t just a silly deal anymore, where he got sex in exchange for a little murder. He’d made it clear from the start that he wanted more, and then somewhere along the way, I’d started to consider it.
But it wasn’t fair to lead him on and make him think we could have a future after this. It wasn’t for lack of interest in the future, but lack of a future at all. I would die to make sure I got my revenge, but…he didn’t need to witness it. I’d tried to have that conversation with him, but every time I started, it ended in an argument. He couldn’t even consider how real the chances of me dying were.
Sebastian pushed a strand of hair back behind my ear, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Let’s see... Maybe if we plan this around a bigger event, something that will take attention off us, we could sneak over.” He pulled out his phone, wrangling it so that he could keep a hand around my waist while scrolling. “There’s a movie premiere next week. It’s the studio’s summer blockbuster.”
“Which one?”
“Mind to Bend,” he read from the screen. “Let’s plan for that night. But if I think someone’s following us, it’s off.”
I snuggled deeper into him and focused on the TV. Pennywise the Clown was straddling a banister and making a crude joke to the adult Losers Club below. “Let’s see who can quote this movie the most, and we’ll figure out how to get into Charles’s house tomorrow.”
A WEEK LATER, I dressed in all black, and Sebastian wore his normal clothes to drive over to Charles’s now abandoned mansion. He’d been stupid enough to give out his real address to Skye on their date, so we had her drive by it a few times to make sure it was empty. We’d been on alert all week, watching for paparazzi. Seeing exactly which ones were dedicated to catching us, and which were simply bored. Sebastian was close to calling off the mission entirely, especially once he picked me up and saw my outfit, but I insisted the coast was clear.
“You’re dressed like a burglar fromThe Sims.” He shook his head as I climbed into his car.
“I want to be hidden in the dark,” I argued. “They’ll seeyoufrom a mile away.”
“Yeah, and I’ll be able to play it off like I was at a friend’s house or taking a walk. How are you going to explain why you’re in the area, dressed like the Hamburgler?”
I stopped talking, seeing his point. I looked down at my hoodie.
Well, shit.
“It’s fine. Just take off the hat, and you should be fine. We can make it work,” he said, and I did as suggested.
Charles had lived in Bel-Air. For a real estate tycoon, I’d expected nothing less.
“There’s gonna be a code for the gate,” Sebastian said as we drove into the estate. It was easily twice the size of the house my mother left behind. Which, I’d discovered while digging through her things, he’d been her real estate agent for the purchase.
I rattled off the four digits, 0510, without missing a beat.
We reached the tall wrought-iron gate, and he rolled the window down to punch in the code. It beeped in acceptance, and the metal gates opened.
“How did you know that?” He glanced over, raising an eyebrow.
I pulled Charles’s journal out of my hoodie pocket and waved it. “His anniversary with my mother. He talks about it being his secret lucky number.”
I’d learned a lot about the man who could possibly be my father through the journal I’d taken before dumping him into the lake. He was clearly neurodivergent, although possibly undiagnosed. At the time he wrote it, I don’t think he had gotten help for his obsessive-compulsive tendencies. He never mentioned them outright, but it was clear on the page he was neurospicy of some flavor. With his paranoia and extensive record-keeping of… everything, I was curious to see his home and any further evidence of his eccentricities.
“I hope he didn’t have any pets,” Sebastian muttered as we drove around the back of his house.
“I doubt that,” I said. “He didn’t like animals.”
