𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓻
𝟺𝟼: 𝚆𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜
"Where are you going?"
Turning around sharply, I found my mom gazing curiously at me with a hint of sadness swimming in her eyes. She was donning her pyjamas considering I had tactfully waited until my parents had retired to their bedroom before endeavouring to sneak out, though I presumed they would be sleeping. It wasn't late by any means, but my parents were habitual early risers so they fall asleep earlier too.
"I'm meeting friends," I told her truthfully, though we did have a job to do.
A man had contacted us to declare his growing concerns that his boyfriend was allegedly squandering away monumental amounts of money. The boyfriend worked night shifts sometimes too which was why this job was so late. He was out of the house so that left us free to assess their online banking records, though we'd have to use the personal laptop at the house rather than removing the hard drive and plugging it into the dedicated laptops to triage and examine. Illicit affairs meant nothing complex like online banking, for instance, which would usually be a cause for surveying and instead it would consist of messages, images and videos.
Mom was frowning at me and I knew innumerable doubts were swirling inside her mind. "At this time?"
"It's not that late, Mom. We've been doing this since I've been in my apartment."
Her head bowed at the reference to my life after I had been exiled by her and Dad. One part of me wanted to claim it as a dark point in my life considering it was attributed to NAMELESS and I had no family support, but I had Adelaide and she was enough to act as the stars in my darkness. She illuminated the tunnel I had become lost in so I could see the path I had to take. Without her now, I hadn't escaped the tunnel, but the lights flickered repeatedly on and off, disorientating me and causing me to needlessly backtrack.
"Okay. Just don't wake us up when you get back please." Mom even outdid herself by managing to offer a smile, albeit it was a tentative one and it waned eventually.
"I'll try not to."
Just as I was about to move, Mom stopped me verbally with a question she had bombarded me with when I was initially arrested, though I refused to answer back then. Did she honestly believe I would provide her with the truth now?
"Why did you assault Samuel Bennett?" she asked. "What did he ever do to you?"
I held her gaze almost defiantly. Samuel, after discovering his girlfriend suspected he was cheating on her and she contacted us so we could provide proof, had threatened to call the cops on our illegal business. That, however, would have implicated Marvin considering he was our supplier of our dedicated laptops (Undercover didn't stock such extravagant and complex systems). That day I caught the bus because my BMW was in the shop for a service and I didn't possess my Ducati back then (it was also less suspicious by varying the transport from my friends and I, though the bus was not my brightest idea) and assaulted Samuel to intimidate him and threaten him back.
"If you go to the cops, you'll have much worse done to you," I'd hissed at him. "Our friend won't take pity on you."
"Our friend" was a reference to Marvin who would set his employees on Samuel. We knew from experience with dealings we mercifully never had to entangle ourselves in that they leave the offender beaten to an inch of their life. They call the ambulance but flee before the sirens are even heard.
Then I stamped on Samuel's hand.
And I was the reason why he required hand tendon repair—the surgery that ultimately resulted in his demise because NAMELESS switched general anaesthesia with potassium chloride.
In that moment, with my mom's brows furrowed into a V, I could have lied and spurted shit like "I was drunk" but I'd taken a breathalyser and the results returned as negative. In the end, I settled with a simple, "It's complicated."
Mom was palpably disheartened with that response, but it was all I could offer her. She asked nothing else.
Afterwards, I was the first to move and I realised I made it to the front door until Mom's footsteps were audible up the stairs. With clenched fists, I vehemently unlocked the door and groaned quietly to supress the urge to slam the door behind me. That definitely would not go well with my parents. And Jacob was relaxing in his room after catching me up with the trivial hearsay spreading around high school. He was even explaining he was single and by this point, I was utterly lost with his endeavours with various girls in his classes. I failed to recall whether he was going on a date with a girl last time we corresponded, though Jacob didn't particularly seem bothered by my memory loss.
The drive to college was quiet as rush hour had passed long ago. Everyone was already waiting at Brody's dorm for me but after perceiving the sombre expression marring my features, no one berated me for my tardiness. Instead, we spoke strategy and confirmed that myself, Charlie and Brody would be situated inside the house. Brody would look through any paper bank statements while Charlie would scour the laptop as he harboured the expertise in the computer department. Chad wasn't required as there was no phone to analyse, so him and Tom would act as lookout points outside a few blocks away, positioned strategically with help from our client who had detailed the route home his boyfriend takes from work. They would be able to alert us if the boyfriend returned home early, with just enough time for us to quickly flee.
I, of course, would be on hand to oversee Brody and Charlie in case they required an extra pair of hands. I was twitchy, eager to plunge myself into a new distraction so Adelaide and my family and even Verity could be shunted temporarily from my mind.
However, when I clambered shotgun into Brody's Audi, my phone bleated. He glanced at me in his peripheral vision and I could have bet any fucking money that Charlie was craning his neck from behind me to get a covert glance at my phone screen. But it was Verity.
Verity: I didn't want to write something mushy, but I just wanted to say I'm excited to attend the gala with you tomorrow. You've made me so unimaginably happy, Porter, so thank you for that
Like the jerk I was, I didn't respond and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Brody raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing—something I was thankful for. All Verity's message served was as a reminder that I was a prized douchebag that didn't deserve either her or Adelaide.
At the house, our client hastily handed over his boyfriend's laptop with a piece of paper detailing all the required passwords. He gestured to the dinner table for Charlie to sit and work and he complied, thanking him. Then he directed Brody and I to a filing cabinet in the study and unlocked the top drawer. Only half of the contents were anything regarding bank statements, but he confessed that his boyfriend handled the paper-form finances so if he did have a secret account, it would be placed haphazardly inside without any sense of order. Then he left the room rather abruptly and Brody and I shared a quick glance.
As we worked through the paper statements, putting aside anything of mild interest, Brody fixated his gaze on a statement and asked, "So, trouble in paradise already?"
I sighed, exasperated. "Don't give me that shit, Brody. You know the truth."
"I do. And I think you're a fucking dick, dude, to go from Adelaide to Verity when it's Adelaide you want."
"It's complicated." It wasn't, honestly. Not really.
He scoffed. "No, it's not. You want Adelaide. You can still have Adelaide if you tell her the truth. Any word from NAMELESS?"
"No."
He paused for just a moment and I knew he wasn't going to license the topic to drop. "Adelaide will understand. She's been in this mess with you from the start. All you have to do—"
"Stop fucking mentioning Adelaide!" I burst out, almost throwing down the wad of bank statements I was clutching so tightly that my knuckles were whitening. "Please. Just drop it. I picked my family over Adelaide and only time will tell if it's the right decision or not. Adelaide's got her own shit to deal with, man. I need to sort out my own life first."
Brody didn't mention either Adelaide or Verity for the rest of the evening.
Silence descended awkwardly between us as the tension crackled around us. We worked silently but combined our bank statements of interest into the same pile. I don't know how much time passed, but before I knew it, Charlie was stepping into the study, fleetingly glancing around and surveying the room. He was without the laptop.
"Found some online and offshore accounts," he announced. "He's looking through it now and it's safe to say he knew nothing about them. In the settings of each account, the option for paper statements is turned off so you're both wasting your time. I didn't realise until just now. Been figuring out how to navigate the websites."
"How much money?" I asked him, shuffling the statements and inserting them back into the drawer, shutting it after me. The key protruded from the lock but I figured I'd leave that for our client to deal with.
"Too fucking much, man," Charlie replied gravely. "We should head off."
Considering I had been the one to speak to the client when we first arrived at the house, I consoled him only marginally. A main rule to heed was not to get too attached to a client or become implicated in their business. We'd even followed that rule following Samuel Bennett's girlfriend job, but she had broken down and confessed too much to Samuel Bennett afterwards, thus incriminating us. We never contacted her again and we could only hope she wouldn't contact us either. We didn't want a repeat of history.
"Thank you," our client sniffed, rubbing his red-tipped nose. "I'll get your money now."
He tore his gaze away from the laptop screen at the last possible second before scurrying to retrieve our money. He handed it to me and collapsed back into the chair at the dinner table where Charlie had been situated so I deemed it safe enough to check through the manila envelope and confirm the appropriate amount of cash was inside. It was.
"Thank you," I emotionlessly said to him.
Without another word, we stalked out of his house and straight to Brody's car. Once we were pulling away from the sidewalk, Charlie called Tom and Chad to notify them of the status of the job. They merely said they'd see us either tomorrow in college or at the gala because Charlie was heading out with a potential date tonight and I would be heading straight home after our return to college.
Actually, it was when we returned to college and I found myself in my BMW when I realised I wasn't quite ready to venture home. My hands gripped the steering wheel as the engine idled, gently purring faintly in the background.
Accelerating gently, I headed to the gates, but instead of turning left, I turned right. I set my new destination to the only place I knew where I could blow off some steam and keep somewhat to myself. I headed straight for District Row to partake in a few drag races, hoping my frustrations and stress would expel from me every time my foot presses down harshly against the accelerator and I shoot forward.
It didn't even sting half as much to lose all my races than it did to lose Adelaide.
***
"We'll see you at the gala later, okay?" Mom said to me, patting my cheek and causing me to wince.
She donned a simple silver dress which resulted in her signature crimson lips appearing more startling than usual. Her dark hair was styled in a fancy updo I could only butcher in explaining how it appeared, and she draped a matching silver shawl around her back and arms, allowing it to hover inches above the ground. Dad matched his silver shirt to Mom's dress, and I knew he had taken a sample of Mom's dress to a tailormade designed store in town to locate the perfect shirt.
Dad wrapped his arm affectionately around Mom's shoulder, gently tugging her back and away from me. He bore a smile, though I wondered if it would hold some permanence for the night rather it being just for my benefit. Behind them hovered Jacob who donned a sleek Armani suit that was more of a granite colour than either black or dark grey. He'd even styled his dark hair so it was slicked back and away from his forehead.
Mom's eyes rose to my hair. "I've missed your golden locks," she murmured, still managing to reach out and push a thick lock back as I had styled it like that.
When I'd ambled past a mirror afterward, I had to do a doubletake. I appeared older and more mature, almost unrecognisable. I wondered what Adelaide would think of this new style, but when the pang hit in my chest, I pushed the thoughts astray.
"Make sure to compliment Verity," Mom instructed, one eyebrow raised as she strutted past me.
Dad patted my shoulder and Jacob who was clueless to the terms I had to agree to in order to return home. He smirked at me. He straightened out his bow tie as I patted down my tie, having opted for that as opposed to a bow tie.
When they left, I took a few minutes to myself before I had to leave in order to pick Verity up on time. I extracted my phone from my pocket and glanced through my messages. There was absolutely nothing from Adelaide and nor was there anything from NAMELESS. Did this silence mean that they had been rumbled by someone else and they had been coerced into a ceasefire? It didn't make sense to me, and the anxiety of randomly receiving a message that had the power to crash and burn my world was harrowing, terrifying.
Not wanting to leave until the last possible second, I traipsed around the house, checking out everything in my room too. I'd already verified that everything had been rendered untouched since I returned home, but I failed to shake the feeling of something being off. Maybe it was all in my head. I was becoming increasingly paranoid in the absence of NAMELESS.
When I ultimately knew I could squander away no more time, I trudged to the front door, glancing over my shoulder only once. Although I had only been in my apartment for a few months, this house still appeared so foreign to me... like I didn't belong. Where did I belong? Did I belong with my family like this and living a lie? Or did I belong in my apartment where I could liberally unleash my demons? The question haunted me terrifyingly so, but I was powerless to retaliate against it.
Sinking into the leather seat of my BMW, I clenched my fists on my thighs, straightening out my trousers. The tux, of course, was fitted as Mom insisted on a tailor-made outfit, though it had been expensive considering I had to undergo the process at the last minute. My muscles were tense, however, and it didn't aid matters that my tux was tight-fitting, hugging my body so snugly.
Allowing the rumble of the engine to act as a lullaby, I gently reversed from the drive and made my way to Verity's. When I attempted to turn the radio on, I was defeated by fury and pain as Post Malone's "Psycho" filtered from my speakers. My hands inadvertently gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening. Before I knew it, my foot was leaden against the accelerator and I was exceeding the speed limit. It was only when the song finished could I relax, though I'd endured the entire song. It reminded me too much of our night at Prism, the one night Adelaide and I indulged ourselves with letting loose.
Despite being incandescent with desire to mute the radio or switch stations, I had to listen to it, to stick it out until the song had finished. After the hurricane I sent to Adelaide and her family, I was a glutton for punishment like that. I deserved the nausea to eat me up slowly from the inside. I deserved the tightening jolts of pain through my chest to mourn the loss of Adelaide. I deserved the guilt I had to bore knowing I'd crashed and burned her world and here I was—out of the slums and back into the riches, living with obscene amounts of luxuries.
Adelaide, on the other hand, was assaulted by despair, unsure whether her family would truly be broken forever.
Because of me.
I shook my head, willing the thoughts away. If I focused on it for a moment longer, if the ever-growing lump in my throat was anything to go by, and if the pressure in my eyes was anything to go by, tears could spill. Never before—not even when I was exiled—had I experienced such oppressive, heavy, bone-breaking guilt.
Pulling up outside Verity's house, I loosened my hands from my steering wheel and killed the engine. For a moment, I just sat there, collecting my thoughts and composing myself. Only when I deemed it safe enough did I clamber out of the car, locking it idly behind me as I strolled up to Verity's front door. By the absence of cars in the driveway, I could only assume that like my family, hers had already journeyed to the gala. But by no means was I tardy.
Verity opened the door before I could even reach the it, gazing at me appreciatively as I neared her. Her entire face lit up and I failed to summon the strength for it to fuel my ego. All I could offer her was a shaky smile, hoping she would buy it.
"You look so handsome," she told me, leaning up to kiss my lips softly.
"You look beautiful."
She flushed.
My words weren't a lie. Verity had always been beautiful, though she'd never flaunted the fact that she was heavily aware of her beauty. And tonight was no exception. Her raven hair was drawn to one side in a loose fishtail plait and her makeup remained as natural as it always was. The floor-length gown she donned was a colour akin to sea weed, though it seemed to balance out with her dark hair just enough. It clinched at her waist and dipped enough just to expose a hint of cleavage—enough to remain modest and reserved—with thin straps. As she turned to allow me to enter her house, I realised the dress gaped at her ribs and was almost entirely backless, a strip of material to segregate the gaps for her ribs and the back (or lack thereof).
With the exposed ribs, it also meant whenever she moved her arms, she proudly displayed her tattoo that resembled my "truth" one on my same rib.
carrier
Verity closed the door after me. "What tux is that?" she asked, eyeing my body proudly. She reached out and squeezed my arm gently.
"Hugo Boss."
She smiled before leaning up to kiss my cheek. As her cheeks pinked, she mumbled, "I just need to use the bathroom," before ambling down the corridor, her heels clacking with every step.
In her absence, my phone vibrated inside my pocket. Figuring it would be one of the guys, I haphazardly plucked it from my pocket, only to falter at the name stamped across my screen.
NAMELESS.
The silence had terminated, and it didn't escape me to realise that when Verity leaves, I receive a message. And maybe NAMELESS was back with a vengeance.
Verity's proud of her "carrier" tattoo. I wonder how Adelaide will react after seeing it for the first time. But that's just another reason to break her heart, isn't it? And you can't even blame me for this one. This is all on you. –NAMELESS
Verity returned a moment later and I shoved my phone back into my pocket. She grabbed a black clutch, draping the strap over one shoulder so precisely that it fell against the thin strap of her dress, and turned to me, glowing. She was incapable of controlling her grin, but it just wasn't contagious.
"Ready?" she asked.
It was all I could do to nod.
The drive there, Verity settled with small talk, notifying me that Asher might be catching feelings for Brody. I was too distracted to point out that her titbit was a long time coming, though I doubted Brody reciprocated her feelings. It was only afterwards that Verity admitted it was all conjecture on her behalf. "But wouldn't it be nice for Brody to settle down with Asher? They've always gravitated to each other."
I hummed an agreement.
The location of the annual Grovesville Gala varied every year between the prestigious hotels the town boasted. This one had been awarded the contract for this year, and instead of capitalising on the valet parking, I parked around the back. Verity didn't question it, but I felt my car would be safer without my keys being swapped between various unknown hands. NAMELESS could easily intercept the chain. I also provisioned to not drink but having kicked smoking a few days ago and was still twitchy with a craving for nicotine, I had a feeling I would require the complimentary champagne and call a cab afterwards, picking up my BMW in the morning.
Before I could exit the BMW, Verity laid a gentle hand on my arm, halting my movements. Turning to her questioningly, I was inwardly astonished to view the flushed, almost vulnerable expression on her face. "This means a lot to me," she murmured, "to be here with you. I just wanted you to know that."
I gulped down the too-big lump in my throat. "I'm glad."
Satisfied with my response, we made our way to the front of the grand hotel. It was only as we handed over our invitations did the realisation strike me so joltingly, my steps faltered and Verity stepped ahead of me unknowingly. She turned around, nervously giggling at my silliness.
The knowledge that Adelaide would be near me staggered me to the point of clammy hands and constant glances over my shoulder to see if I could spot her, rendering me both paranoid and apprehensive. I was still utterly incandescent with feelings for her, and so much so that I knew I was essentially completely in love with her.
It hurt me as much as I knew it would hurt her to be with Verity tonight, but nonetheless, I stepped up to Verity and offered my arm, playing the part I should have taken all those years ago. She looped her arm with mine.
I braced myself for the inevitable.
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Author's Note:
And so the gala begins!!! What do you guys think might happen while at the gala?? Do you guys think NAMELESS will be there (whoever they may be)??? :))))))
We are getting closer to the NAMELESS reveal and I'm so excited!!!!!
Thank you :) x