An Honest Lie(79)

“That’s fair... I get it. But he didn’t want me back, Rainy. And I don’t know what’s going to happen here, but you should know that.”

Rainy leaned her head forward and hit it backward against the table leg. It hurt but it felt good, woke her up a little. She wasn’t going to thank Braithe for telling her that Grant wouldn’t cheat on her. This woman was not her friend.

“He’s who you were talking about the night we played that game.” It wasn’t a question, and Braithe didn’t try to answer it. “And you’re the one who asked my question, not Tara. What were you going to do if I didn’t draw that question? Use it as an opening to ask me, anyway?”

Braithe’s silence confirmed that she was correct.

“Did you call Grant that night?”

Even in the dim light, Rainy could see her head bounce in a nod.

“Yeah. I called to tell him again how I felt.”

“And what did he say to you?” Did she really want to know? That night, she’d tried to call Grant herself, and he’d sent her calls to voice mail because he had Braithe on the other line, pouring out her feelings. Why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t Viola said something? They’d all just let her be a fool. Anger at all of them burned in her chest, so much it almost made her cry out.

There was a long pause. Rainy wasn’t sure if Braithe was crying. She did not care, she did not. The last year of her life had been a complete lie.

“That he didn’t feel the same way.”

She ground her teeth, wondering if she should believe her. Braithe needed Rainy on her side if they were both going to get out of here. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“Okay, why would I lie about that, Rainy? I may have been harboring feelings for Grant since the beginning of time, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t sincere about liking you.”

“You didn’t give a shit about me, Braithe. You were using me to stay close to Grant.”

Braithe’s lack of response pinned the tail on the donkey. Rainy turned her face away. She didn’t want to look at any part of her, not even her lying, shitface profile.

“Why did you come?”

“What?”

“You heard me.” There was an edge to her voice now.

Oh, are we seeing the real Braithe Mattson? Rainy thought.

“Why. Did. You. Come? You made a choice to come here when Paul texted you from my phone. If you hate me so much, explain why you did it.”

“He said he was going to kill you.”

“So, why not let him?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, listen to yourself. I should let someone kill you because you fucked my boyfriend once upon a time in high school and you still have a thing for him?”

“Fuck, Rainy. Okay. What are we going to do?”

She licked her lips. “I think I know this guy. I’ve been thinking and I have a few plans. None of them are actually very good but—”

“Oh my God,” Braithe said.

“I think he was watching me...maybe before now. But he saw us together and he—”

“Used me,” Braithe finished.

“I’m sorry.”

Braithe whimpered.

“We have to focus.” Her backside was numb, and she shifted her position, painfully aware of the cuffs. “I set some things in motion before I got here. But first, I need to tell you about my past.”

It was light out when Ginger came back, this time carrying a black duffel bag, the same dingy beanie still on his head. His face was different. What was it? He turned his back to her to set the bag on the table; it made a solid noise when it hit the surface: it was heavy. How long had it been since she’d woken up in here? No more than seventy-two hours. Would that give him enough time to find her? Hurry, Taured.

If he comes...

He will come.

Ginger dumped out the rest of the bag on the small table behind her. The noise of the objects hitting the tabletop was loud and metallic. There were a limited number of things that could fit in a bag of that size and be that heavy. Glancing at Braithe nervously, she saw her playing along, her head resting on her shoulder. He would kill Braithe first, she knew it. He’d played with her the longest, but she hadn’t been his real target, anyway.

He smelled...stank. Rainy wrinkled her nose, watching his movements closely. Beer and unwashed body, she thought. He’d gotten a drink this time...probably a lot of drinks, judging by the smell of alcohol.

“Paul,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Are you okay?”

His shoulders hunched but he didn’t turn around.

He’d been manic so far, riding his own chaotic energy. This was a crash. This is what she’d been hoping for.

“Ginger,” she said clearly. “I have to pee. She probably does, too.”

He froze. She could see his fingers gripping the edge of steel table, gnawing without teeth at the metal until the knuckles turned white. He’d heard her.

Fuck. Maybe that was too far. Licking her lips, she tried again. “Did you think that I didn’t know who you were?”

Still, he said nothing, his back to her.

“You were closest to him, weren’t you? I saw you the night of my mother’s...her funeral, or whatever he called that spectacle. I saw you other times, too...” She let that linger. “I know what he did to you. And I know what you did to Sara.”