The cot creaks when I sit on it. It's amazing how quickly you can forget how uncomfortable this thing is, but I settle as well as I can and pick up one of the books. Underneath it is Wild Child's journal. I don't even want to think about him, but I pick it up anyway. I never got a chance to finish it.
It's still good. Still hot. King said once that Wild Child is running from himself. From his thoughts and urges and his need to always be going somewhere, anywhere. What doesn't he like about himself? Other than being an insufferable ass sometimes, like when he makes me duke it out with Janey for the honor of top slut—a title I'm totally uninterested in—but I think that's more a symptom than a cause.
So much for not thinking about him. Him and Hero and King. I'm drawn to all three of them, in different ways, and I can't help it. But that makes it ten times as frustrating when they won't let me do something that's going to help them. To protect them, like they do me. Before Dad steamrollers the whole compound.
The door opens and my head snaps up to see who it is, while I slam Wild Child's journal shut and hide it under one of the other books.
“Hey, skank.”
Crap.
Janey stands in the doorway, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. There's a crooked smirk on her lips.
“I'm not interested in another round of the slut olympics, okay? Now's not the time to pick another fight.” I get to my feet, just in case she's about to try something again.
She shakes her head. “Not this time. I'm here to help you.”
I laugh out loud at that. “Yeah, right. Give me one little reason that I should trust you.”
“Because I want you the hell out of here as quickly as possible. If I can't beat you in a fight, then I have to use other methods. I overheard you in the common room.”
“Wonderful.” I roll my eyes. “And now you're going to…” When I trail off I make a sarcastic questioning face at her, or at least I think so.
“I'm going to get you that press conference.”
Okay, so I'm listening now.
29
EMILY
I must be crazier than Wild Child. Trusting Janey. That's like trusting a scorpion not to sting. Or Dad not to lie. Yet here I am.
On the other hand, I believe her motivation well enough. With me out of the clubhouse, she'll be free to rule the roost again. She has everything to gain by getting rid of me, and if it's not because she killed me, she might even get to fuck the guys again.
That thought stabs me deep inside my gut.
Like, we haven't made anything official yet, but it's obvious I'm getting really strong feelings for them, and I think they are for me too, in their own weird ways. But once this is all over, where will I go?
Live at the compound? Be their old lady? Part of me doesn't hate the idea, but if my father can be defused in some way, shouldn't I be going back home?
Mom's very hands off, and she must've turned a blind eye more than once. Then again, sometimes she's really heavy on the foundation or wearing long sleeves in the heat. Sometimes a blind eye is easier than having it turned black. Does she love me? I think so, in a way. Like when she tried to distract Dad in the limo before all this started. Maybe she does her best.
Is her best what I'd want to go home to?
“You coming or what?”
Maybe Janey's helping me, but she sure isn't pretending to like it. I didn't even know there were secret escape exits from the compound, but it makes sense. When all is lost, you need ways to bail out. Apparently there are a bunch of them, but she's only showed me this one. Now we're in a small abandoned apartment, just down the street from where we agreed to meet the reporters.
I'm terrified, because if this goes wrong, we're even more screwed, but if I can use this to save the guys, I will. I have to.
So I set my jaw in defiant determination and follow Janey out onto the street. The bright light makes me squint after the crawl through the dark tunnel, but with a hand over my eyes, I adjust.
The reporters are going to be there. I'm not that stupid. Janey provided the way out, and a phone to call the press with, but I made sure I did that part. I'm not going to let her sell me out that easily. Between her and a couple of the other girls, we even got me some normal clothes to wear, even if the others don't know what it's for. Alexis is a stick figure compared to me, but she had a sundress that had turned out too big for her, and we made it work. Apparently, as top bitch, I can ask for almost anything.