If Only You Knew (16 page)

“Crystal,” Sydney replied.

As soon as she reached her bedroom, Sydney's knees gave out on her and she fell to the floor. Sobbing hysterically, she couldn't believe what had just happened. Her stepfather was a murderer and her very own mother was A-OK with this. Curled up in the fetal position, Sydney couldn't imagine what to do to next. There really was nowhere to go that the twins would be safe and, what's worse, as Keisha implied, now that they knew the truth, both she and Lauren might be considered accomplices. Sydney gave up trying to make sense of
how her entire existence had unraveled in a matter of moments and just bawled.

When she could finally cry no more, Sydney picked herself up gently and headed into the bathroom to wash her face. Her red eyes were almost swollen shut and saliva had dried on the side of her cheek. “Yuck,” she said, reaching for her Lotus Moon facial cleanser. As she squirted a dime-sized drop of the organic cleanser in the palm of her hand she thought about how expensive the thirty-five-dollar bottle was compared to stuff sold in most drugstores. Feeling extremely guilty, Sydney immediately washed it off of her hand and rinsed her face with plain water instead. When she finished, Sydney headed back into her bedroom and started to take off her clothes. Stripping down to her tank top and pink striped Cosabella boyshorts, she climbed into her bed and lay under the covers watching the ceiling fan spin.

“Hey, Syd,” Lauren softly whispered at the door before she pushed it open and entered sporting a similar red-eyed, puffy-face look. Sydney slowly turned her head to watch her sister walk over to her bedside. “I don't want to be alone,” Lauren said as once again the tears began to fall. Sydney moved over and pulled the covers back to allow her sister to join her in the bed. Silently, the two girls clung to each other as if their lives depended on it.

It felt like a knife—hot and searing, running back and forth across her abdomen, digging deeper and deeper still. It woke Lauren clean out of her sleep—a pain so abrupt, so powerful, she sat straight up in Sydney's bed, momentarily unaware of just where, exactly, she was. She clutched her stomach and doubled over—tasted the bile that crept up into her throat. She was going to throw up, for sure.

“What's wrong?” Sydney asked, sitting up. She rubbed Lauren's back.

“As if there isn't enough going on, now after all that damn faking I really do have my damn period,” Lauren seethed. “This is so not happening.”

“Be glad for the little things,” Sydney said. “You could be walking around with a baby bump and a megaphone.”

“Good God, what the hell was that?” Lauren said, rubbing her stomach and fighting back her urge to hurl.

“That was four years of wasted energy,” Sydney said, rubbing her temples. “I hope she and Marcus are happy. And if it doesn't work out,” Sydney added, whispering and looking around her room conspiratorially, “maybe he and Keisha could get it on, seeing as she loves him so damn much.”

Lauren chuckled. “See, you need to stop—she might hear you,” she said. “And I might throw up.”

“Eww—not in my bed. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave now,” Sydney said, gently pushing her twin out of the bed they'd shared all day long.

“Whatever,” Lauren said. “I'm going to the bathroom to handle my business and swallow a half a bottle of Aleve, and then I'm going to crawl downstairs to get Edwina to fix me a cup of raspberry tea. Maybe that'll settle my stomach—at least from the cramps, anyway. You want anything?”

“Just for this day to be over,” Sydney sighed. “And for things to get back to the way they used to be.”

“I'm with you there,” Lauren said. “Don't hold your breath, though.”

It was Sunday night, which meant that Edwina had the night off and was most likely with her family, which also meant that Lauren would have to fend for herself in the kitchen. That was bull. Because Lauren couldn't even begin
to fathom where Edwina would stash the raspberry tea, though she figured she could venture a guess if she thought about it hard enough. But now that they were here, the cramps were coming fast and hard, and really, Lauren just didn't want to be bothered with the microwave and the sugar and the teabag, let alone walking back up the stairs. She snatched open a cupboard or two—saw canned vegetables, pasta and taco boxes, seasonings, cereal. “Where in the hell?” she muttered under her breath. And then, just as quickly, she found the teabags.

Box in hand, she headed for the cupboard and pulled out one of the heavy Salty Dog mugs her mother collected on their last trip to their condo in Hilton Head, South Carolina.

And then she heard them.

“Yeah, well, I know this much. They better have gotten into their thick little heads that this ain't a game,” Keisha groused from the study, which was just off the kitchen, next to Altimus's office.

“They making things hot, fo sho,” Altimus grumbled. “I hope they really heard you, but I didn't know the extent of how much they'd figured out. Ain't but one way that happened; somebody's been snitching. You know we can't afford snitches, Keish.”

Lauren's knees began to wobble, but somehow, she
found the strength to tiptoe a little closer to the side of the kitchen closest to the study.

“So I take it you didn't find him?” Keisha continued.

“But I'm on it,” Altimus replied. “He won't be able to hide for much longer. I got a friend at Telecom, gonna be telling me everyone he's talking to. It won't be long, trust. I'll get his ass, find out just how much he knows.”

They were talking about Jermaine—Lauren knew it. She felt light-headed and wobbly as the combination of the over-heard conversation and killer cramps started to get the best of her. She grabbed at her stomach, forgetting she had the coffee mug in her hand. Until, that is, it came crashing down on marble floor.

The footsteps came rushing around her, first Keisha's, then Altimus's.

“What the hell are you doing in here—spying?” Keisha snarled.

“I…I…was, um…”

“You was what?” Altimus demanded.

“I was just getting a cup of tea,” Lauren insisted, her eyes swelling with fresh tears as she finished throwing the last pieces of the mug in the trash. “Edwina is off and I have cramps. I just took some Aleve but it wasn't working and so I just came down to fix myself some tea but I couldn't find the teabags and the mug just slipped—it
just…slipped out of my hand, and I didn't know you two were down here…”

Keisha looked Lauren up and down and laughed. “Damn, girl, seems like you get your period every other week. Running around here trying to be Inspector Gadget and can't even fix a cup of tea right,” she said. “Look at you.” Then, turning to Altimus she said, “Look at her.”

Altimus didn't say anything—just glared.

“I'm, um, I'm going to go on back up to my room now,” Lauren said. “I don't, um, really want any tea.” She had to will her legs to carry her out of the room slowly, even though every part of her being wanted to race back into her bed, under her covers, in the darkness, where it seemed that nothing—and nobody—could touch her.

“What the hell was all that?” Sydney whispered as soon as her sister got to the top of the stairs. Lauren put her finger to her mouth and pointed her sister to her room. The two speed-walked into the room and quietly closed the door behind them.

“No light—no words,” Lauren implored, tucking her hair behind her ear so she could hear whether Keisha and Altimus were making their way upstairs. She heard nothing. And then, all of a sudden, there was a buzzing sound, made more pronounced, no doubt, by the fact that her room was absolutely silent.

“What the hell is that?” Sydney said, jumping.

“That's my phone,” Lauren said, diving onto her bed. She reached into a tiny hole inside her massive Brookhaven teddy bear and fished out the KRZR. “My boo” flashed across the screen. “It's Jermaine.”

“You gonna answer it?” Sydney inquired.

“Look, I just heard Altimus tell Mom that he tapped Jermaine's phone. If I answer that, they're going to trace it straight back to me, and then they'll find him for sure. I can't let that happen, Syd. I just can't.”

Lauren held the vibrating phone next to her heart until it stopped moving; tears dripped onto her hand, between her fingers, and onto the phone.

“Don't cry, Lauren,” Sydney said, fighting back her own tears. “Please, don't cry.”

“Jermaine is in serious trouble,” Lauren said quietly. “And it's all because of me.”

“It's not you—don't put this on yourself,” Sydney said, hugging her sister. “This isn't us. It's our stepfather. I don't know how we're going to make it right, but I do know we can't do this alone.”

“Well, unless you got a direct line to The Man himself, it doesn't seem like there's anybody who can help us without getting hurt themselves. Dad's in prison. Jermaine is on the run. Keisha is on Altimus's side. We can't trust anybody,” Lauren cried.

“Wait, shhh,” Sydney whispered. “I think I hear something.”

The two of them were as still as statues—didn't even take a breath or blink their eyes. There was nothing but silence.

Sure their parents weren't listening in, Sydney said, “Why don't we call Uncle Larry.”

“No, no—ain't no way,” Lauren said almost as quickly as Sydney finished throwing out her suggestion.

“Look, I've been up here going through it in my mind, and the only person that Keisha doesn't know we reached out to—the only person she didn't mention earlier today—was Uncle Larry. She doesn't know about him.”

“And you want to take the chance that she finds out?” Lauren said incredulously.

“L, he's the only one who knows all the players,” Sydney said. “He knows Jermaine, right?”

“And he practically kicked him out of his house when we showed up with him last weekend,” Lauren said. “Didn't seem like Uncle Larry was interested in helping him out. Why would he change his mind now?”

“He may, or he may not. But at least he can help
us
out, give us some advice on what to do.”

“I don't know, Syd,” Lauren said. “If they have a trace on Jermaine's phone, they could have one on this phone, too.
I'm not one hundred percent sure, but Jermaine is probably the one paying the bill.”

“Look, we don't even have to call him. We can have someone else we trust do it,” Sydney said.

“Like who?” Lauren asked. “No offense, but Carmen and Rhea? Not. And all of Brookhaven Prep was on hand to see the Duke family saga unfold before their very eyes at the lake house, and everyone is just waiting for more juice to pour into the gossip cup. Ain't no way…”

“Donald,” Sydney said simply.

“Donald?” Lauren asked.

“Donald. He's clever, discreet—at least when it comes to your business, right? He could call Uncle Larry. Keisha and Altimus would never know,” Sydney said. “We can tell him what to ask, and Donald could call, and he can tell us what Uncle Larry said. It's that simple.”

Lauren thought long and hard about it. “Seriously, you don't think they'll find out?”

“How could they?”

“I don't know, Syd,” Lauren said. “I don't know.”

“Look, what's Donald's number, dammit,” Sydney asked, pulling her own old-school flip phone from her bathrobe pocket.

“Where'd you get that?” Lauren asked.

“Let's just say I learned a few good lessons from my
little sister,” Sydney laughed. “I got this a few days after I saw the phone Jermaine gave to you.”

“Alrighty then,” Lauren said, taking the phone from her sister's hands and punching in Donald's number. “Let's give it a shot.”

Donald answered on the first ring. “Who?”

“D, it's me, Lauren,” Lauren whispered into the phone.

“Wow, I didn't realize they had phone service underground,” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about, Donald?” Lauren asked.

“I figured that by now, Keish and Al had you and Sydney buried in the backyard under the magnolias and crepe myrtles,” Donald said. “You must have stellar service. Who's number is this, anyway?”

“Donald, shut up and listen, okay? I don't have a lot of time.”

“Tell me about it,” Donald said. “The way Altimus was looking at the lake house…”

“D!” Lauren whispered a little louder. “Shut up and listen!”

“Okay, okay, geez,” Donald said. “Go.”

“I need you to do me a favor,” Lauren began.

“Anything,” Donald said simply.

“I need you to call my Uncle Larry and get a read on what Sydney and I need to do to help Jermaine,” she said.

“Help Jermaine? Don't you think you better focus on yourself? After that damn disappearing act, seems like Jermaine can handle his. You, I'm not so sure about…”

“Donald, please—” Lauren began.

Sydney snatched the phone away from her. “Donald? This is Sydney. Look, I need you to put on your listening ears, okay? No talking. We're in the middle of some really shady stuff that I can't get into right now, but one consequence of it all is that Lauren's boyfriend could get hurt. We need you to call our uncle, who is about the only sane grown-up on the planet who we actually know, and get him to give us some advice on how to protect Jermaine. Do you think you can handle this mission?”

“Come on, baby, do a bear pee in the woods?” Donald asked. “Who's Uncle Larry?”

“Keisha's brother,” Sydney answered easily.

“Keish got a damn brother?” Donald yelled. “Good God, what the hell?”

Sydney pulled the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes. Then she put the receiver back to her mouth. “Donald. Focus,” she said tensely.

“My bad,” he said.

“We need you to tell him that Altimus and Keisha ran into Jermaine at our party, and that they're looking for him. And then we need you to ask him what we should do to help him get out of this mess, and if he can help.”

“Trouble. Looking. Help. Got it,” Donald said.

“Are you sure?” Sydney questioned.

“I'm sure,” Donald said. “When do you want me to call?”

“Right now,” Sydney said, eyeing the clock. It was 10:40
P.M.
She gave Donald the number and wished him good luck. “Call me back at this number when you're done, okay?”

“Bet,” Donald said, and hung up.

Sydney pushed
END
on her KRZR and sat silent. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now, so much so that she could make out her sister's sad eyes in the moonlight, shining through the massive half-circle window floating at the very top of Lauren's twelve-foot wall. The architect who designed the room must have been a stargazer, for sure, because he positioned the windows in both the room and the bathroom to create the perfect frame for the moon in the evening and the North Star in the early morning. Lauren would often be much too groggy in the mornings to appreciate its positioning, but on occasion, when the star hung low enough and the sky was dark enough and the clouds were quiet enough, that star practically spoke to her—its shape so clear it almost looked like someone had come along and painted it with glitter against the midnight blue background. Tonight, the full moon was just as clear, providing the glow the two sisters needed to get them through the darkness.

Not even a minute and a half passed before Sydney's vibrating phone rattled them out of their moon-induced haze. It was Donald. Sydney flipped the phone open, pushed the green button, and said a tentative, “Hello?”