It's two thirty a.m. and already, I am planning Jack Lim's death. I'll bash him in the head with that stupid coffee cup he always brings until blood trickles down his forehead. Or maybe I'll choke him until his limbs stop moving. Or maybe I'll accidentally shove him while he's driving, promptly driving us both off the cliff.
I'll be dead, but at least I won't have to hear his relentless nagging. "Don't tell him anything, okay?" Jack repeats for the tenth time. "Don't tell him where I work, what I usually eat, or when my birthday is, and especially don't—"
"I don't even know when your birthday is," I say.
"Good," says Jack, as he drives up the cliff.
Outside the safety of the black Audi is the scary big world. Below lies the ocean, water foam lapping against the shore madly, begging for us to accidentally nudge to the right a bit and fall into the water. I shudder and turn away from the view.
Jack pulls up to a gravel driveway, where there's a wooden house that's practically falling apart. He gets out of the driver's seat, waiting for me to do the same—but I've chickened out. I keep my hands clutched on my seatbelt. "Actually, never mind," I squeak out. "I don't want to meet your friend. I'd rather go to the police."
"Dramatic as always," Jack says dryly, crossing over to the passenger side and opening the door. I stubbornly remain seated. "Isla. Get out of the seat. I didn't drive forty minutes for you to act like a child."
"An adult would have the same response as me!" I insist, thrusting a finger at the house. "It looks like a murderer lives there."
"There is no murderer. Also, if you had your doubts, you should've brought them forward earlier."
I scowl. "I was in shock."
Jack is a mixture of exasperation and pissed off-ness, but I'm just as stubborn as he is. We maintain eye contact and suddenly, it turns into a staring contest. Whoever looks away first loses and it'll be humiliating for the loser.
His light brown eyes clash against mine and it's hard to breathe. Jack has practice scaring the crap out of people just through his intimidating gaze, and it shows. My lungs are starting to burn and I remind myself to breathe.
I force a deep breath, but it's a mistake. The exhale comes out too loud and I internally cringe. Jack doesn't miss a beat, his mouth curving into a mocking smile.
"Okay, Isla. Are we going to get out of the car, walk to the house, and knock on the door? Just as planned?"
"No, Jack," I return sweetly. "You're going to get back to the driver's seat, drive me home, and we'll pretend this situation never happened."
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. "We had a deal."
"I was drunk," I defend. "That's not consent."
He considers that, before nodding grudgingly. "Fine." He turns on his heels and walks towards the house, leaving me in the car alone.
A lone breeze whisks past me and a feeling of doom sweeps through the air. I hear a crow caw in the distance, before the caw's silence. I curse loudly, before getting out of the passenger seat.
"Goddamn you, Jack," I whisper, stomping to the wooden house. Jack leans smugly against the door, arms crossed with a satisfied smile.
"I thought you weren't going to come," he calls arrogantly. I ball my fist together, imagining a wrecking ball swinging at him. For once, the universe must be on my side. The door collapses underneath Jack's weight and he trips, the smile instantly disappearing.
"Well, I came to see this scene," I say, walking over his body. "I'm so lucky I didn't miss it."
Jack scoffs though he can't come up with any scathing remarks. He rolls off the ground, before surveying the area. It's dark and dusty, with no furniture. Even though I hate Jack, I'm glad he's with me. In case a murderer comes, I'll be able to shove Jack in front of me.
"Where's the person?" I murmur, as Jack creeps forward. "Maybe he's asleep." Jack doesn't answer, tracing his finger against the wall and examining it. Dust. "Maybe he's hungry and went to get popcorn from the movie theater. Or maybe he's a murderer and is currently hiding a dead body." I send a meaningful look at Jack, which he ignores.
Suddenly, a booming voice slices through the empty house. "How did you know?" the jolly voice asks, and I scream, clutching onto Jack's sleeve.
Jack rubs his ears and then looks into the darkness. "Is that you, Gabriel?"
Gabriel the maybe murderer shuffles through the house and I stick closer to Jack. I am absolutely prepared to shove Jack at Gabriel if it means saving my soul. Gabriel grumbles sleepily, before opening a lamp.
With the light on, I can finally see everything, though it confirms everything I already knew: bare furniture and dusty room to the point of disbelief. As a serial cleaner, I want to roll up my sleeves and start scrubbing the walls.
The light also reveals Gabriel and I take my time inspecting him. He looks like a soft puppy, all permed dyed golden hair and brown eyes framed by round rose gold glasses. He's wearing an oversized beige hoodie and when he smiles, I realize he's that person. The person who you want to comfort when he's crying, even if he's a stranger.
I come to my next conclusion. I was not expecting this. I was expecting Gabriel to look like something that came out of hell, with evil grins and mad eyes. Like Jack's doppelgänger.
"Jack," Gabriel booms, squeezing his arms around Jack. He only lets go when Jack begins choking. A hug, I realize. "I was surprised when you called me."
"I've been busy," comes Jack's vague response.
"Well, come by more. I often get lonely." When Jack doesn't make any immediate promises, Gabriel waves his hand dismissively, shuffling forward. We follow him into another dusty room, albeit this room now has furniture. A dusty table. One wooden rocking chair. A pitcher of water. "Let me get some tea. I still have the English breakfast tea you gave me two years ago—"
"Gabriel, we need you to dispose of a body for us," Jack interrupts.
Gabriel flinches. He turns around, his gaze finally landing on me, acknowledging my existence. "Did you kill someone?" he demands, the once warm eyes turning frigid.
"Oh," I say, looking at Jack for help. He nods encouragingly. "Um, yes?"
"Okay, then." Gabriel turns to Jack expectantly. "Give me money."
Jack reluctantly digs through his pocket, handing a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My eyes pop. Jack is a stingy person, unwilling to spend a few dollars on items "of unimportance" according to him, and now he's handing more than five hundred dollars over. It must've been painful to part with the money.
"You're going to be okay," I whisper sympathetically.
Jack is confused before he sees me eyeing the money in Gabriel's hands. "Screw off," he whispers back.
"Where's the body?" asks Gabriel, and both men exit the house, leaving me in dusty silence.
I glance over my shoulder, before creeping around the house. There's nothing of interest, just dust and more dust. I'm about to collapse onto the rocking chair when I see a piece of paper camouflaged on the ground.
I pick it up. There are footprints on top of the photo and the cleaner in me faints, horrified that I'm touching a photo that's been layered with dust and footprints. A rat probably sauntered all over it, leaving all kinds of diseases. Regardless, I peer closer at the photo. Note to self: wash hands with soap as soon as possible. If there's no soap—and with a second scan of the house, there probably won't be—use hand sanitizer. Scrub aggressively.
It's a family picture, I realize. Everyone's wearing black and some are wearing black hats. Halloween? They're dressed as witches and I spot Gabriel in the picture. He's smiling playfully, arms around a tiny boy who's beaming just as brightly.
Is that Jack? I stare at the picture in horror. Tiny Jack smiles happily with no hint of sarcasm and it makes chills break free on my skin.
"What are you doing?" Jack's voice makes me jump and I whirl around, heart pounding. His eyes zero in on the photo before he snatches it away. He looks slightly pissed, smacking the photo into Gabriel's hand. "You're leaving traces, Gabriel. Either hide it well or burn it."
"Oh, sorry." Gabriel stuffs the photo into his hoodie pocket. "Go put the body in my truck. I have something to deal with here."
Jack moves towards the door, but not before he brushes past me, murmuring, "Remember what we talked about."
Right. No telling the maybe murderer any of Jack's information.
The moment Jack is gone, Gabriel walks to the counter, beckoning me forward. "Sit," he says, motioning at the dusty table. "I'll make some tea. You must be exhausted."
I look at the dusty chair. I'm not touching that. "Oh, yes."
"So." Gabriel heats the water, humming. "How did you meet Jack?"
Does this count as revealing Jack's information? "Well." I'm stalling and it's very obvious. In my head, I throw telepathy signals at Jack, who doesn't get them because he's so focused on the body: how the hell am I supposed to respond?
Unlike Jack, who can abruptly cut off any conversation without feeling bad, I've never had practice doing this.
No. I can do this. I just have to release my inner Jack. What would Jack do in this situation?
For starters, he wouldn't be burning holes into the dusty table. He would look and glare and scowl up at Gabriel. I do just that, though I'm so scared, I'm practically trembling. Gabriel looks as though he can snap me in half and here I am, giving him a black look.
Keep going, Isla. If this goes wrong, blame it all on Jack. Gabriel is waiting for me to continue, so I go to the next step: making my posture like Jack's.
He would lean on the table all macho-like. I lean against the table, crossing my arms. The table topples over instantly and I nearly fall, grabbing the chair for support. The chair breaks down, leaving wooden splinters everywhere. I clear my throat, about to apologize—but wait, Jack would never apologize.
"None of your business," I continue, mimicking Jack's curt tone.
Gabriel cocks his head to the side. "I guess people really do influence you. Anyways, you're right, it's none of my business."
I exhale, relieved. Then Gabriel continues. "But I'm curious. Why is Jack helping you?"
Because we're (fake) dating now. "Hell if I know," I respond rudely. If my mother saw this unruly behavior, she would collapse from a heart attack.
"Okay." Gabriel goes on busying himself with the tea. After what feels like an eternity, Gabriel finishes the tea, looking around at a spot to place the china teacup. The table and chair are destroyed, so he has no other choice but to place it back on the counter. "So."
"Silence is my best friend," I declare.
Gabriel finally takes a hint, shoulders slumping. I instantly feel horrible. How does Jack do it, acting rude all the time without a hint of remorse?
"I'm back," Jack announces, stepping into the house. He sees our noticeable distance. "Why are you all like this?"
I throw him a betrayed look—your fault—which he ignores. "Well, Gabriel. We should get going."
"Alright. I'll deal with the body accordingly. Have a good day."
Jack is about to walk out and I trail behind him. Then he pauses, patting Gabriel roughly on the back. "Take care of yourself, okay? Don't waste the money."
Gabriel cracks a grin. "Aw, is the Ice King worried about me?"
"Who wouldn't?"
"Don't worry, I can take care of myself," Gabriel puffs. "And be careful, man." His gaze slides towards me. "When Jocelyn hears, she's going to blow a gasket."
With that eerie warning, Gabriel pushes us out and closes the door. Closes away the worry of a dead body—and opens a new door, filled with thoughts of weddings and fake dating.
Goddamn you, Jack, I think, as he's driving back home. Always filling my life with stress.
***
author's note: first, thank you so much on 1.1k followers and secondly, thank you for all the support on 'a murderer's guide to fake dating'! question: what song reminds you of this book? (sorry, this is going to require some thought a;lsdflkas)
if you've enjoyed this chapter, please vote + comment and mayhaps even add this book to your reading list. anyways, have a lovely day wherever you are <3