Unbeautiful (Unbeautiful 1)

“Yes, it did.” I seethe, balling my hands into fists. “I saw your car following us every time we went out together.”

“Emery, you have got to stop this paranoid behavior.” Silence fills the line. “You stopped taking your pills, didn’t you?”

“No, I haven’t. I take them every day like I’m supposed to.” I sit up on the bed and force myself to stay focused on the reason I called. “Look, Mom, I didn’t call to talk about me. I called to talk to Ellis.”

“This is unbelievable.” She laughs haughtily. “You know what? I’m done talking to you.” She hangs up.

I gape at the phone. She hung up on me? All because I wanted to talk to my brother? Thrumming my fingers on my knee, I replay our conversation in my head. She was angry with me because I wanted to talk to my brother. I know he’s being punished, but her anger makes me question what’s being done to him.

She was so persistent about the pills, too, more than usual.

The pills. I almost forgot.

I collect my laptop from the foot of my bed and open the discussion board again to check my post.

Still nothing.

I retype my post to convey the urgency.

Unbeautiful: Please, this is really important. I need to know what pill this is. Someone I know has been forcing me to take them, and I’m starting to worry.

About a half an hour later, there’s still no response. It’s nearing three o’clock. Class will be starting shortly. Ryler should be showing up here any minute.

I shut my computer down, gather my books, and shove them in a bag. Then I wait in the living room for Ryler to arrive while I figure out what to say to him. Do I just flat out ask him about the car he got into?

I never get the chance, because Ryler never shows up. I end up having to walk to school on my own.

Swinging the handle of my bag over my shoulder, I step outside the apartment. My shoulders feel weighted, like they did every day in Ralingford. The stress is starting to take a toll on me. If I’m not careful, I’ll have another panic attack and blackout.

You can do this, Emery.

You are strong.

You were strong enough to escape Ralingford.

As I turn around to lock my door up, I realize the possibility of keeping it together seems dimmer. Stuck to my door with a knife is a piece of paper.

Thou shall break.

A rule of our community.

And it’s written in my father’s handwriting.

Chapter 11

A Deal with the Devil

Ryler

“You got a new car,” I sign to Agent Stale. Over the last six months, he’s been gradually learning sign language in order to better communicate with me. It’s a nice effort on his part and helps me trust him more.

“I thought it’d be better to drive my own instead of the one I use for work.” He flips on a blinker to make a right onto the main road of Laramie that winds between businesses.

We’ve been driving around in his BMW for an hour now, doing laps around the city to make it easier to spot a tail. I didn’t even want to get in the car in the first place. When he’d sent me a text, saying he was at my apartment, I about lost it right in front of Emery. He convinced me we needed to talk, but so far, our conversation has been about mundane subjects, like his new vehicle.

“It’d have been better if you didn’t come here.” I watch the scenery as we cruise by buildings and parks. It’s the beginning of June, and the sidewalks are crowded with people enjoying the summer air. I envy their freedom, wish I could hop out and breathe it in.

“Ryler, I’m not going to put you in any danger. But you had to have expected this visit from me after the text you sent last night.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “A very cryptic text.”

“Actually, I thought I was being pretty blunt”—I turn my head to look at him—“when I said I didn’t want to do this anymore, I meant it.”

“Look, I understand this kind of stuff can get stressful”—Rain starts to drizzle from the dreary sky, so he flips on the windshield wipers—“but you’ve already put six months into this. Quitting now would make those six months completely worthless.”

“Then they’re completely worthless.” I stare down at the tiny cuts on my arms, the remnants of last night’s scrubbing or attempted cleansing.

“If you don't follow through, they won’t erase your record, Ryler. And college won’t be an option anymore.” He turns right onto a side road lined with small two-story houses. “Do you really want to give that up?”

I hesitate, staring at my arms. “Yes.”

“Are you sure about that? Are you sure you want to go back to gambling to make money? Because, in my opinion, the life you had before wasn’t any less dangerous.”

My jaw is taut as I look up at him. “Do you know what I did last night?”

Stale’s eyes slide to me. “Did something happen last night?”

“Yeah, I watched a man get shot in the forehead, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, didn’t do anything to stop it.”

Stale mulls over what I’ve said. “Ryler, I hate to say this, but what did you expect? You knew how dangerous Elderman was when you got into this.”

He’s right, but still...

“I never thought I was going to have to watch it.” I shake my head, watching the rain river down the windshield, erasing the grime from the glass. “I was so close there was blood all over me. It brought back too many memories, memories I’d like to forget.”

“I’m sure that was hard for you.” He loosens his tie as he checks the rearview mirror, something he does every few minutes to check that we’re not being followed. “Especially with your history.”

“I never hurt anyone intentionally. Shit just happened. Juvie was fucking hard to survive, and I had to stick up for myself; otherwise, I’d be walked all over.”

“I wasn’t referring to your violent behavior while you were in juvenile detention.” He fleetingly glimpses at the scars on my neck. “I was referring to Ben Stedderoan. I know what he did to you... how he hurt you. I know you were just trying to protect yourself.”

I touch the scars on my neck. “So did a lot of people, yet somehow, I was sent to juvie instead of him going to jail for what he did to me, Aura, and all his other children.”

Stale is quiet for a while, steering the car up the street and down another road.

“I read the case file,” he finally says. “I know it was his word against yours, and no one would speak up for you. Ben said you hit him first, beat him before he could fight back and beat you.”

“And because they saw me as a punk kid, I was the one that had to be lying. That I was the violent criminal. That I took the branding iron to my own throat. Scarred myself. That I beat up Aura and Ben. That I was the unstable one. Yeah, I know the fucking story. What I don’t understand is why we’re talking about this shit.”

“Have you spoken to Aura since it happened? Did you ever hear her side of the story?”

“Why would I? She betrayed me.” Still, after all that, I loved her for almost two years, until the end of my sentence. Toward the end, I started to crack, and through those cracks, Aura slipped away.

“I don’t know. I’m curious why she never spoke up.” He looks at me with pity in his eyes. “It seems odd that she didn’t.”

Yeah, it was.

I’ve thought about it a lot.

I’ve wondered why she wouldn’t speak up for me when I stepped in for her.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sign. “It’s been four years now, and I’m not going to live in the past.”

“Yeah, but wouldn't it be nice to have closure?”

We drive over a hill and then toward the direction of the university, nestled between apartments, dorms, and a few small stores.

“Why are we talking about this?” I sit up straight in the seat as he nears the busy campus parking lot. “And why are we going to the school?”

“We’re talking about t

his because I don’t want you backing out of this case with Elderman to be another thing you don’t get closure on. You should finish it out, Ryler. You’ll not only earn freedom from your past, but you’ll get to help take down one of the most dangerous men in the country.” He parks the car in front of the historically themed main office. “And we’re here to pick up my other informant, Brooks.” He draws his sunglasses over his eyes, even though it’s cloudy and dark outside. “I thought I could speak to you both while I’m out here.”

“I’m no longer the game, though,” I remind him, reaching for the door handle to get out. I made up my mind last night, and I need to stick to my guns on this decision.

“Then I guess you should probably get out now.” He searches the sea of bodies flowing out of the main doors. “If you’re really out of the game, then you need to get out of the car. Because what I’m about to say to Brooks won’t concern you anymore.”

I start to pull on the door handle but pause. I don’t know why I hesitate. I don’t want to ever relive last night. But I also don’t want relive feeling the lack of closure like I felt with Aura. And being here in front of the school, watching people go in and out of the building with their books and a purpose in life...

I stare at Stale until he looks at me. “Did you bring me here on purpose? To show me what I would miss out on?”

He grips the steering wheel. “That was part of the reason. But I really do want to introduce you to Brooks before you start working at the writing center in a couple of days. That way you’re not meeting out in the open.”

I watch the people swarming around the campus, going in and out of the building, hanging out under the trees, reading. They all look completely at peace with life. God, I want to feel that peace.

My hand falls from the handle as I slump back in the seat, hating myself for not being able to walk away, for wanting a better life so much I’m willing to risk my life altogether.

“There’s Brooks.” Stale straightens and releases the brake as a blond guy wearing a baseball hat, a pair of jeans, and a T-shirt exits the building.

He peers around before hurrying down the stairs. He opens the car door and hops into the backseat.

“You’re late.” Stale turns the wheel and drives out onto the road.

“Sorry. The lady who runs the writing center is super crazy about letting me walk out a second early.” He drops his books onto the floor and buckles his seatbelt before slumping low and tucking his head down.

Stale stops the car at a red light. “It’s fine. Ryler and I were just getting on the same page.” His gaze flicks between the two of us. “Ryler, this is Brooks. Brooks, this is Ryler.”

Brooks extends his arm over the console, and we shake hands.

“It’s nice to meet you, man,” he says, pulling his hat lower onto his head.

I give a quick glance in Stale’s direction and cock my brow. “Does he know I can’t speak?”

Stale nods. “I briefed him about your condition.”

“I’ve been working on my sign language, too,” Brooks adds. “But I’m afraid we’re probably going to have to use a pen and paper for a while.”

I’m not sure what to make of the situation. Stale said Brooks was the son of one of Elderman’s men, but he isn’t what I expected. He looks too much like a pretty boy with his blonde hair and nice clothes. Considering how rough-looking most of Elderman’s men look, it doesn’t make sense.

Stale glances back into the rearview mirror at Brooks. “So, what’s the update? You said you had some news in your text.”

“Yeah, my father finally mentioned something about a warehouse last night,” Brooks replies, leaning forward and resting his arms on the console. “I overheard him on a phone conversation talking about one in a town about an hour away from here.”

“Did he mention what town?” The traffic light shifts to green, and Stale drives forward, giving a quick glance behind him before changing lanes.

“No. And he wouldn’t, either,” Brooks says matter-of-factly. “He’s always careful when he talks on the phone, never mentioning specifics or names.”

Stale turns up the speed of the wiper blades as rain slams fiercely against the windshield. The roads are starting to flood, and the sidewalks are turning into streams. “Have you by chance searched the towns about an hour away from here?”

“Yeah. There’s about five.” He pauses. “But, honestly, I’m not sure the town would show up on a map.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because”—he reclines back in the seat and stares out the window—“I’ve heard my father talk about the place a couple of times, and I don’t know, the stuff that happens there... it just seems like, if it were a real town, they’d all be in jail.”

“They could be paying people off,” I sign to Stale. “Donny did that with some of the police in Vegas.”

“Yeah, that could very well be a possibility.” Stale scratches his head as he pulls the car to the end of my street. “I’m going to look into the cities within an hour of Laramie and see what I can find.” He parks the car a ways from my place, near the corner in front of a home. Then he rotates in his seat. “As for the two of you working together, I want you to be careful. No discussing anything important where anyone can hear you.”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”

“And Brooks, I want you to be careful, as well. Especially after what happened the last time you tried to tail your father; you need to be extremely careful.”

“What happened when he tailed his father?” I ask, thinking about last night and Doc’s rant about punishing his son.

“My father figured out I was following him, slammed on his brakes, and caused me to run into his car and break my damn arm.” He shrugs. “It was no biggie, really. I just told him Mom thought he was cheating again. He believed me. Although, he doesn’t trust me as much anymore. He thinks I’m always spying on him for my mother.”

“You were lucky,” Stale says with worry creasing his face. “If he’d found out—”

“Then he would have killed me.” Brooks shrugs again. “I know what I’m getting into, Stale. I don’t need a reminder of how fucked up my father is.”

I unfasten my seatbelt and turn in the seat to get a good look at him, hoping to be able to read him better. “Why are you doing this, though?” If I’m going to be working with this guy, I need to know I can trust him.

Stale translates for me.

“For my brother.” Pain emits through Brooks voice. “So his death won’t be for nothing.”

“Brooks’s brother was helping us,” Stale explains, slipping his tie completely off and tossing it onto the floor. “And Elderman found out.”

“And had him killed.” Brooks swallows hard, his jaw set tight. “My father did nothing about it, didn’t care. He said my brother deserved it for being a traitor.”

“You can trust Brooks, Ryler.” Stale shoves the shifter into park. “He wants Elderman in jail probably as much as I do.”

“More,” Brooks presses, his eyes blazing. “And I’ll do anything to get him behind bars.”

From what I can tell, it seems as if he’s telling the truth. I just hope I can trust him. Hope I might not be in this alone anymore. Maybe with some help, I won’t feel so edgy all the time.

Stale gives us a rundown on what he expects of us. Our jobs at the writing center will allow us time to collaborate our information, but Stale presses that, for the most part, we need to remain away from each other.

By the time I hop out of the car, I’m exhausted and overwhelmed. Last night, I was so determined to get out of this mess, but less than twenty-four hours later, I’m going right back into the criminal world.

It’s not until I reach the stairway that I realize I have another huge problem. It’s after five o’clock already. I’ve missed class and driving Emery like I promised.

I think about texting her to apologize, but I don’t even know her number. Maybe it’s for the best. I sh

ould probably keep her out of my life if I’m going to continue to be an informant.

I don’t want to be that guy, though—the one that just falls off the radar of a girl they like, just bails out like Aura did with me for reasons that are still unclear. Emery’s got so many problems already, and she said she trusted me after she let me touch her so intimately.

I decide to leave her a note on the door. At least we can talk if nothing else. Perhaps be friends. I like having her around, like talking to her, kissing her...

I shake my head and grab a piece of paper and pen from my apartment.