Valley of the Dolls

(xi) What About The Fall?

But it didn't matter. He hated her . . . right?

          "Hey, guys," Pope restlessly mused, "so, like, my dad's already gonna kill me."

          Blair snorted and held the cigarette out for him. He didn't take it and she knew he wouldn't, but tried anyway.

          JJ ran his hands through his hair and puffed air out his bruised lips. "Might as well tell 'em, man, before we're gaffed."

          "You ready for this?" John B raised both brows and shot them a smirk. Eagerness bled out his every pore as he rubbed his hands together, a look that Blair eventually learned meant he had some valuable information. Her skin bubbled from the inside out, knowing exactly what was coming. "So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant."

          "Oh, my God. Here we go again with this."

          "No, no. All right, wait," JJ raised his hands as if trying to tame them, eyes grazing them almost as pleadingly as were John B's. "Hear him out, all right?"

          "It's been here the whole time." Blair's brown furrowed at his words, seeming all too abstract. She didn't understand, and then she began hating herself for what she threw her mind blindly into. This whole gold thing would end up killing her, she knew. "It's on the island," he said.

          "Are you serious?" Kiara frowned, gaping at the boy.

          "Are you fucking delusional?" Blair scoffed cynically, in completely disbelief.

          "Uh, like Blair, I'd like to voice my skepticism." Pope raised a hand, utterly baffled. John B was quick to try and dismiss him, his silhouette engulfed by the thick flames.

          Conflict was visible in his eyes. If Blair didn't know better, she'd say he was trying to convince himself of his discoveries too. "I'm sure you would, but can I please present you with my evidence?"

           "Proceed," the pair replied simultaneously.

           "All right," John B mentally cheered. "So, in my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny."

          "Who the hell's that?"

          "A slave that survived the Royal Merchant wreck," Blair frowned, answering from common knowledge. John B's brows raised in confusion, and all she could do was shrug meekly. Her eyes widened. "My grandfather found that letter. Wait . . ."

          "Yeah," John B interrupted before she could say too much. "Check this out." He handed her the old transcript, bleeding navy ink and ripped at the edges like old parchment. She recognized a few names as she ran her ringed finger over the surface, feeling sick to her stomach. She was home when her father put it in the box, then asked Rose to drop it off at Chapel Hill. "Okay, slaves weren't mentioned as crew members on the ship, but, my dad, he found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery," he pointed at the paper. "So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom. After that, he bought his farm and, drumroll, please, because that farm is . . ."

         Though a tad reluctant, the Pogues all slapped their knees as if the all-consuming situation was intensifying with their drumming.

          "Tannyhill Plantation."

          An aggressive shiver ran through Blair's body, suddenly colder than the blood coursing endlessly in her veins. "Did you just say Tannyhill?" Home?

          That was impossible, absolutely improbable. She felt sick to her stomach, placing a hand over her belly while the other hovered in the air with her cigarette between her gold-adorned index and her middle finger.