CHAPTER 13: Information Pays More Than Pleasure
"That's how you greet your twin after twelve months?" His voice is amused, on a tangent of colossally grated teasing.
I have the biggest smile on my face, "The amount of missed calls from me must have really paid off, Mr. America, and you pick now to call. Talk about the worst of timings, but it's good to hear from you." I lean against the wall with the phone to my ear.
"I believe the name is 'Captain America,' Copycat, and awe, I feel so bad. Do you want me to hang up?" He teases, and I roll my eyes.
"I'd fill your voicemail with the most agitated calls if you even think about it. Now, why the callback?" I wonder and happen to glance over to the Elite, to meet cold, silvery eyes that stare down at me, impenetrable and very chilled.
As Marvin says, I narrow my eyes at him, "You already did that. You would think you'd have more game. Is my sister losing her touch?" He asks, chuckling feverishly.
I let out a mock growl, "We all know who's better at annoying the other. How's Washington...not too politically boring?" I place a hand on my hip, using a low tone.
He chuckles before cutting the fake laugh, "Queen of utter irritation, I'm so glad we both agree on that, and No, Washington is busy and entertaining. Seriously, you should visit?" He attempts to persuade.
I laugh, "Really? Me, in Washington. Do you seriously think you can handle that kind of competition? I'm the one with the higher IQ. I'd be knocking you right out of the school before you can put your pen to the exam paper. How are you coping anyway, getting homesick?" I ask, just as the door opens, and in walks Professor Forthright, who stands next to me.
"Melanie, may I speak-" I hold a finger and point to the phone next to my ear. He folds his arms, waiting.
"No, I'm not homesick. I'm just checking in. Mom called and said she couldn't get ahold of you. She, Mathias, and Dad ventured to Vancouver on vacation while we were both stuck in our studies. It was good to hear from them...Dad's still pissed I left." He says.
I sigh, "I'm not completely surprised. I've been busy, that's all. I'll have to give her a ring later." I mutter.
"What's going on, Mel? You sound stressed." He says. I huff.
"I'm not stressed. I'm just working through the kinks of the Academy," I say to him, Professor Forthright raises an eyebrow, and I glance away from him.
"Why not take a spa day?" He suggests over the phone.
I cringe, "A spa day? That's your advice. Look, can I call you back? I've got a specific individual with a stick up his arse that I need to deal with." I mutter. Professor Forthright purses his lips in annoyance.
"I'd say break the bastard's fingers, but you always go for something more painful and permanent. Who's the male? I could do some digging?" He offers.
I sigh in defeat, "I've got it handled, but if I need you, do be on call."
"Of course. I love you...no matter how stupid that sounds."
I giggle, "I love you too. Bye." I say the room is completely silenced.
I turn to a jaw-clenching Professor Forthright, who swallows harshly, "You know what? Never mind, I'm required to remove the stick up his arse, as you so eloquently put it." He says bitterly. He struts out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
I blow out a puff of air, "He's intense." I turn back to them all. Lorraine's eyes widened to the fullest as she gasped at me.
"You just insulted a teacher."
"He had it coming." Edmund surprisingly says this as he wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands from his chair. Moving his plastic plate to the bin, he turns back to me.
"Melanie, can I speak to you a moment?" He says, strictly, using my first name. I remove the feeling it bites within my chest. He walks stiffly out of the room. I rolled my eyes in annoyance, turning towards the door and opening it after he'd already walked out.
I look at him in confusion, and he has his hands on his hips as he paces the width of the hall. I lean on the white-clad wall, "What's your problem?" I ask, wanting to get the lecture over with as he glares at me repeatedly.
"You were with him, weren't you?" He says to me, spitting in annoyance.
I raise an eyebrow, "He took me to his office after we spoke to the police." I mutter, shaking my head.
"How fucking dumb can you be?" He curses my way. He points at me menacingly.
I scowl, "Don't give me that. It's not about being dumb or idiotic, whatever you want to call it, Edmund. What is wrong with you?" I ask him with furrowed eyebrows.
"Did you order someone to look and dress like you to hurt Erik? Yes, or No?" He asks me in a deadly tone. Ice in his eyes and a shaken up quiver in his hands.
I mask the pain of the accusation, "No, I didn't. You're crazy to think I would hurt him or your friends. The bloody fact you dared to accuse me of such a thing is low, and I expected better from you." I say to him, stepping away.
"Don't walk away, lemon! I didn't-I never meant to-It could have been you, alright? Someone is after you, and now they're impersonating you. My friends are now being targeted." He says behind me, reaching for my hand. I move it away from him. He squeezes his eyes shut.
I purse my lips, "Yeah, well, you're done with what I'm doing." I finalize, turning away once again.
"Stop it! Stop turning away from me. Give me an honest answer, lemon. Stop shutting me out. I think it's time you tell someone; this must stop." He whispers to me, reaching for my hand again, I take a step back, away from him.
He doesn't hide his hurt, "You and I, we don't know anything, we don't know the person or people doing this, we can not confirm anything. I don't know why Erik was attacked, but that depends on whether you put him up to something. That's the only possible explanation. He got hurt because of information. The both of you will stay out of it if you know what's good for you." I tell him, turning back around.
"Kicking me to the curb won't do you any good, lemon, and if you think you could stop me from just looking out for you, you're dead wrong." He says behind me.
I close my eyes and pause in my steps, "Enough, Edmund. You are done with it."
"No, you enough. Who were you on the phone with?" A tone, dark and fierce, resonated along the hall. I could feel the jealousy rising in him behind me. He took minimized steps closer and closer.
"No one you know," I mutter, moving back down the hall, I needed information, and I needed it now.
I slept only for six hours before waking up that night. Who could sleep after everything that has happened? I shove the comforter off me, sitting up in my burgundy chemise. I glance over at my phone next to my bedside. Flicking the light on, I open an unknown email.
Before feeling like ice cold water shoved down my spine, 'Poor little Erik, sticky fingers get splinters. Call your hound off, or big boy Edmund is next.' The email was marked anonymous as my blood runs cold next. It was sent the second I woke back up. I lift myself out of bed, moving over to my laptop.
I found Charlize's old boyfriend. Who worked at a bar only twenty minutes from here? I sat at my desk, the place was more like a club, but I placed a perimeter breach around the bar. The staff schedule told me he was working a shift.
I close my eyes. Is it too reckless to do this?
I could do this.
I was doing this for all the girls who couldn't defend themselves, were pushed into a dark corner, and couldn't find the right and reliable help.
I was doing this for them.
I polish myself up, my rose gold and light eye make-up. Curling my hair into bouncy, alluring waves. I borrow one of Lorraine's black backless dresses, held around the neck with a comically low neckline. I fix diamond earrings, long and flashy. The necklace looked pricy too, but that wasn't the case.
I fix the red heels, and before stepping out of the room, I walk towards the back door, locking it behind me and making sure the alarm is on. I rev the engine and reverse out of the park, I'm on the road quicker than I thought, but I accelerate forward. The road was dark, given it was barely one in the morning. I use my phone's navigational system.
I swallow, tapping my fingers on the wheel to delve into the silence in the car. Getting in wasn't hard. Knowing what to find was. I wasn't even sure what I wanted to say.
I swallow my fears and park across the street as I glance over to the main entrance, which didn't look so busy but the red, pink, purple, and blue LED lights shooting out of it. I sigh, grabbing my purse and stepping out of it.
The music was blaring and loud as I showed the security guard my ID. He smirked, "You can have VIP, beautiful." He says, handing me a black card. I nod, stare blank and emotionless as my hair swishes languidly against my back.
I move through the dancing crowd towards the main bar, quiet and languid. I move soundlessly, even in my heels. I move through the smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweaty bodies dancing with random strangers. I glanced around. The wooden edge of the bar was in the middle. I tilt my head, looking towards the annoyingly busy staff unit.
I step towards one of the seats, crossing one leg over the other. My dress moves slightly, "You want a drink, lovely?" I hear from next to me, a male in a black leather jacket. I glance down before flicking my eyes toward him.
Brown-haired and with cider brown eyes, he holds a scotch in his hands. I smirk, "Move along." I tell him coldly as I turn back to the dancers.
He chuckles heartily, "Oh, c'mon, Princess. I merely offered you a drink. You look new and young?" He says. I raise an eyebrow, glancing over at him. He would have been attractive with a sharp jawline and straight nose if my target wasn't the shaggy-haired male behind the counter, currently serving drinks to a few already half-drunk girls.
"Then, no. Thank you for the offer." I say flatly.
He grieved, "You'll be the first woman who's rejected me...you must be the one." He says teasingly.
I don't say anything to that, so he holds his hand out, "I'm Brandon, Brandon Sinclair." He offers his name and hand.
I narrow my eyes, "Fallon Price. Do you know these parts of town well?" I wonder. Turning towards him, his eyes brightening. He smirks at me before winking at someone who whistles behind me.
"I do. I've been here my whole life. You seem very new. How long have you been in these parts?" He asks, gesturing for Toby.
"A raspberry vodka for the lady, Toby." He says, gesturing to me softly.
Toby merely nods, while my attention is momentarily turned to him, and begins making the drink, Brandon stares directly at me, "So, Fallon?" He asks.
I give him a tight smile, "Not for long. I'm just here for a night out. This place is rumoured to be rather...unforgettable. I wanted to see what the fuss was about." I gesture to the place with my eyes.
He moves his chair closer, "Fallon, let me ask you just a small question, did you think you wouldn't get caught?" He asks me lowly.
I give him a confused look, "I don't get what you mean." Toby places the Raspberry vodka in front of me while Brandon hands him the cash for the drink.
He gestures to me, "Blonde hair and a rarity in your eyes...how could you not get noticed, love? Not to mention that dress, enough to force most men to their knees, you hold great stature?" He says, blinking once as redness flares at his neck.
I furrow my eyebrows, "Thank you...you don't sound very drunk?" I wonder aloud.
He lets out a puff of air, "No, only had one drink. I'm on shifts tomorrow, so I don't want a hangover once I get to the office, but you can't get drunk on dancing, what do you say, love? You want to dance?" He offers, standing delicately.
I hold in the urge to flat out tell him 'No,' giving him a tight smile. I still grab my purse as he leads me to the dance floor, and I tense when his hand comes in contact with my back while the other holds my hand, and I place the one holding my purse on his shoulder.
He begins to sway, "How old are you?" He whispers, leaning down into my hair as a strangely slow and romantic song turns on.
"I turn twenty in November. What about you?" I say, maintaining the conversation. He steps closer, but not too close. His fingers draw feather-like lines across my spine before twisting me once and pulling me back in.
"Thirty-two." He says.
I nod before asking, "If you don't mind me asking, who broke off the engagement, Brandon? It's obvious you didn't want that?" He stiffens greatly.
My eyes widen as I look up at him, "How did you know about that?"
"The tan line of your ring. How long have you been married to her?" He didn't look to strike for the other team, but his expression softened, so I take it I was correct in my assumption.
"Eight years, we have two children but...she kicked me out, when I was working too much at the office, she had been struggling at home, but she hadn't told me anything...I'm sorry, I'm blurting everything out to you as if you were my therapist." He says, almost sheepishly.
I shake my head, "It's alright, but go home. No matter how often she attempts to kick you out, you seem like a good man, Brandon. Go back to your family."
"It's been a year, I-I..." He trails off. I tilt my head up at him. He was a good man. I could see that.
"Get her back, Brandon. You don't want to be here dancing with me. You should be home, dancing with her. I know this is greatly personal, but I know what a man looks like when he's in the wrong place. It wasn't hard to see it." I tell him, being bluntly honest, as he leans down and presses a thankful kiss to my cheek.
"Thank you, Fallon." He whispers.
I hold the urge to wince, and just as I am about to tell him my real name, he's strutting out the door like a man on a mission. I looked after him considerably, it was just a large guess, but my phone told me everything I needed to know.
I turn back to the bar, head high as I stalk towards it. I glance at the lone male at the bar table, merely drying dishes. I step up towards him, "Can I please have a raspberry soda, no alcohol?" I ask him, making it seem I'm interested in something else as I glance around. He looks up at me, pausing for a moment, before nodding.
"Of course. You seem new?" He says quietly; the fact he's shy makes this more understanding. It helps me understand why Charlize was with him. A shy breeze is very calming in the eye of the storm.
I nod with a vague smile, "How did you guess?"
He shakes his head, pouring the red drink into a special wine glass, "I haven't seen you around before, and I live next to the main college and neighborhood." He says, placing a hand towel over his shoulder.
I nod, "What's your name?" I take a sip of the drink. My eye twitches at the sourness of it, which he doesn't seem to have noticed, thankfully.
He points to his name tag instead, "Maven. Maven Northern." I choke on my drink, and he hands me a napkin, raising an eyebrow.
I blink thrice, "Lovely name." I cough out.
His eyes squint, "I take it you knew her?"
I dab my lips, looking at the drink, "We weren't close. She was a business tutor of mine in high school before she ventured to the Academy here."
He clenches his jaw, the first sign of anger, but not force, "You don't happen to attend that Academy, do you?" He asks quietly, leaning in as he looks at me closely.
I tilt my head, "I take after business. The Academy is a well-known private school-" He clears his throat, interrupting me as he leans further down.
"Stay the fuck away from that school. That is my fair warning. There are plenty of other private schools you can study at. Hell, your best option is to go abroad." He says lowly.
I fake a flinch, "What is the problem?"
"Do you have compulsory mental health sessions at the school?" He asks me. I raise both eyebrows.
Bingo.
I nod slowly. He closes his eyes before turning to the other staff member, "Chris, cover my tables. I'm on dinner break." He instructs, and the other one nods in understanding just as Maven turns back to me.
"Come with me, please. I won't hurt you." He says, removing his apron. He couldn't have hurt me anyway, but my phone GPS was connected to my car, and I had the training to take care of any funny business.
He walks towards the staff-only door, down to a staircase, and glances back, cautiously into the room. He leads me outside, "What do you know about my...my former girlfriend?"
I swallow, "I'm sorry for your loss and want to help you. It's why I'm here and how I found you, Maven. She didn't kill herself, did she?" I asked him as softly as possible; it was where I treated so carefully so as not to spark anything that might enforce a reaction I didn't want from him.
He leans against the damp brick wall, "No one else believed me. The confession...it was in her handwriting. I saw it before that police force removed the evidence, but there was no case, no public funeral or anything...her family...they didn't care, I was the only one she had...she was the only one I had." He whispers through the cold air, something that hadn't bothered me until I thought about it. I sternly stop myself from shivering.
"I want to find the real case, the real story. I just need to know if Charlize struggled with something at that Academy?" I question him.
He rubs his forehead, swallowing, "Look, those compulsory mental health sessions were the most spotlighted reason behind what might have happened. That Professor Forthright is a slimy piece of work, nosier than anyone I've heard of; he'd asked her about her relationship with me, about what I do. Still, she held back...before he changed techniques, using other ways to get her to spill information." He explains, I made sure m phone was recording as I asked,
"Did Charlize tell you-or did she seem to be receiving sexual harassment and abuse? From that Professor, or any at the school?" I was hesitant, scared of the answer, but his eyes fiercely stood and looked at me.
"It wasn't about sexual harassment, it was about getting information, but that didn't make any sense. Her family disowned her, she came here, met me...we fell in love. She told me everything, every conversation she had with him, over time." He explained, I pace in my position. She could have withheld information about being sexually harassed by Professor Forthright, but...glancing at Maven, the thought slid past. He was sure that that wasn't the case.
Me; not so much.
Professor Forthright was a sly piece of work...and bipolar, more so than Edmund. One moment he's creepily checking me out and delving me for information; next, he wants to keep me safe, and he has gotten close to me, whether he was holding a hand to my back, holding me on the waist...whatever it was, he was getting too close.
Edmund kept screwing up with the conflict of keeping himself and his friends secluded and safe by staying away from me while trying to stay close. Perhaps his way of surprisingly keeping me safe...he hasn't done a good job of it so far.
"Charlize would have told me if he pushed her into doing that." He says, almost disgusted.
I close my eyes, "Why did he want information that had nothing to do with him?" I wonder aloud.
"That's a question that has been on my mind for years, but the man is untouchable, squeaky clean. I couldn't touch him even if I witnessed him doing something dodgy, not to mention he has that principal of the Academy in his favour." He tells me. I look up, confused.
"What? I didn't even know they were involved?" Dandelion and Forthright is who I mean.
He pinches his eyebrows, "I can't be sure what's going on there...besides the fact he's positioned to be an important attribute in the Academy, yet no one, not even investors or shareholders or school education specialists, questioned the fat that that Academy, is the only one in the world, to have compulsory guidance sessions." He says, making a point. Mom is an investor, yet I know she wouldn't have agreed to something like this...and it wasn't like I could just contact her and ask her to come down here, seeking information in just one private college when the place had such a reputation, and this wasn't the only school Mom was an investor of.
She would pull both Lorraine and me out.
This means that whatever has been happening will fly through the wind, forgotten.
I wasn't about to stand by and allow it out.
"I don't think investors know about it." I voice my thoughts, biting my lip.
He closes his eyes, "Whoever you are, don't give me your name yet. If I'm ever questioned, it's better I don't know because I have been pulled up a couple of times over the years. I want to help you find out what happened to the love of my life, but you shouldn't pay for it the same way she did. I've seen this all before." He whispers.
I've seen this all before.
I've seen this all before.
I've seen this all before.
I snap my eyes up to him, "What are you saying? You told me I was not the first girl to question this?"
"NORTHERN! YOUR BREAK IS OVER!" I hear a yell from the window up top.
I huff, "You said there was someone else?"
He wracks a hand through his hair and rushes, "Meet me at Sylvan Point of the Lake, opposite the Academy. There's something up there you need to see."