When my phone buzzed in my pocket, I’d almost forgotten the results I’d been obsessively checking for days, hoping they’d be ready earlier than predicted. When my teacher turned around, I checked my notifications, hiding my phone behind my classmates thick, wavy hair.
Ancestry.com: your results are ready!
My heart skipped a beat. I’d done the dna test because my friend, Alexa, was an ethnic smoothie and curious about her roots. Her parents had gotten a 2 for 1 deal, offering me the other, since I didn’t know anything about my dad. I pretended not to care about whatever I found out about my origins, but truthfully, I was nervous. I stared at the notification for a full minute before my teacher realized my lack of attention.
“Joeie, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Mrs. Hoffman was the bane of my existence. She had the tendency to tattle on me to my brother, Jeremy, since they knew each other from high school. I was not about to pretend like she deserved a nice answer from me. That lady could choke on an apple for all I cared.
I took a moment to process everything Justin had said. Their mom's overdose -- how painful for the whole family. Joeie never having a parent. A kid having to help raise a kid. I couldn't help but think of all the dysfunction they grew up in. How Justin is probably doing his best but started so young, he had no idea what he was doing.
"Can you tell me more about your mom's death?"
Justin nodded, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He looked away for a second, then reconnected with my eyes. "We were living together... my mom, Joeie, and me. I had stayed because I didn't trust my mom to fully care for Joeie... but Jeremy and Jonnie had gone. Our mom nearly overdosed a few months before, but I was home and took care of it, administered the Narcan. It scared Joeie so much that she begged our mom to get help, and she finally agreed. She was inpatient for a little while and then going to this intensive outpatient program. Everything was going so well." Justin cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat. "Then she relapsed. I don't know what triggered it. But I was too late that time." He sucked in an uneasy breath, then pushed through. "Joeie was young enough to have cried with me at first. She had so many questions... I couldn't answer them. Jeremy was there to help, too. He never let us see him feel anything about it, but he didn't discourage Joeie's feelings. Jonnie didn't go to the funeral. He was pissed off at everything and in the height of his use. It was a hard time for us though. I worked on moving us out -- Jeremy helped me buy the house we're living in now, in a much better area. Joeie made a friend in the neighborhood right away. But that time was really difficult for me. I don't think I was always the best guardian for her. I'm glad Jeremy was there."
I recognized Jeremy's truck as soon as he drove into the skatepark's parking lot. "Fuck," I muttered under my breath. How did he know I was here? He would've expected me to be in our local park, not Jersey City.
I skated up to him before he could get out and embarrass me in front of my new friends. "What are you doing here?" kicking my skateboard up and holding it under my arm.
"Did you forget you're grounded?"
Groaning, I stomped my foot. I had forgotten. "Come on, it was just one low test grade, not that big of a deal."
"The agreement was to come home directly after school. I had a feeling you'd be here. In the truck. Now."
"Wait, Jer. At least let me say bye."
"Go. If you take too long, I'll deal with you right here in front of them."
"Hi, Jeremy?" I said to the lone man sitting in the waiting room, who had been sitting up straight as he typed out a message on his phone, but immediately looked up on my arrival. He was my first appointment of the day, 11am, preferring to get this over with as early as possible (he would have done an earlier time if I had any).
He stood, gave me a firm handshake, and followed me quietly to my office.
Upon arrival, he sat in the same seat Joeie had, near the door, far from me. I could have guessed that by the lack of interaction so far. My heart pounded inside my chest, remembering what Joeie had said about his "toxic masculinity" and "anger issues." That's not my usual type of client.
"Thanks for coming in," I said as I sat.
"Of course. This was important to my family. I can spare a few minutes of discomfort if it keeps my family together."
Interesting way of looking at it. I got the sense that he just wanted to get down to business, not chit chat. He would probably dodge my emotional questions and respond with logic. Why was I so anxious around him? "What's your understanding of everything going on with Joeie?"
I followed behind Joeie to where Justin sat nervously in the waiting room. "Your turn," she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.
Justin stood, saying "hi," again and following me to my office.
He sat in a chair closer to mine, in the middle of the room (neither closest nor farthest from the door). I felt his nervous energy (more than the average guardian I met with) as I closed the door and went to my seat. When he glanced up at me with his worried brown eyes, I could see his inner child... the little boy who had to take care of everyone before he was ready. It kinda broke my heart a little.
"I doubt she told you why we're here." It wasn't an accusation, more an acknowledgment that he knew his little sister well. "She would probably give me shit for even hoping that she might have told you."
"Sounds like it might be a long story, with layers that she doesn't quite understand yet."
I paused for a moment, straightening up in my seat. "Joeie, I have so many questions for you, and I'm really curious to get to know you. But first I want to circle back to something you said earlier. It sounded like you aren't into the idea of being here today. So I'm wondering why, actually, are you here?"
"Justin made me come."
"Obviously. But why?"
She shrugged. "You'll have to ask him." Then just closed her mouth, determined not to say more on the topic.
I thought about a response for a moment. I could get a little sassy with her, which she would probably appreciate the back and forth for a few minutes. I could pry into the events leading up to Justin's decision. Or...
"Fair enough. So is there anything you're curious about or that you'd like to do in therapy?"
She blinked, then unfolded her arms. "I can tell you what I don't wanna do."
“Oh, that’s a unique way to spell your name,” I said, making a note of it in my iPad. “I like it.”
“Yeah, I like it too. Jonnie was the one who taught me how to write it like that.” Seeing the confused look on my face, she continued, “he’s my other brother. My favorite one,” then gave a side-eye at my door, meant for Justin, I’m guessing.
“What makes him your favorite?”
“Because he doesn’t send me to dumb things like therapy… even though he did agree with Justin for me to give it a try. Actually, if it were just this, I’d probably have to pick Jeremy as my fav because he wouldn’t have made me come here either. But I’m mad at him right now too.”
“Why are you mad at Jeremy?”
The memory made her fists ball up. “He’s got anger issues. He’s the one who needs to be here but won’t. Too much toxic masculinity. Even though he’s gay.”
“What did he say about you coming to therapy?”
“Your 4 o’clock is here,” the receptionist told me over my phone speaker.
I thanked her, noticing they were a few minutes early, always a good sign. That gave me enough time to review the email my colleague had sent me.
do you have availability? My client is the legal guardian of his 16 year old little sister and believes she could benefit from therapy. I thought of you because she’s a little oppositional and doesn’t believe she needs to talk to a professional. You guys would be a good fit for each other :)
Great… a teenager who doesn’t want to be here but no explanation of why the adults in her life think she should.
I guess if her brother is her legal guardian, that might have something to do with it. What happened to her parents?
i want this blog to be similar to my livejournal for violet, but on a platform that's easier. i don't remember how i started the other one though. i guess i just started 😂🤷♀️
here's what i know about the series so far:
-Joeie Davenport, a 16 year old skateboarder/actress/drummer.
-Justin Mendoza, the oldest brother, 32 years old and main guardian.
-Jeremy Mendoza, the middle brother, 30 years old, also lives with them
-Johnnie Mendoza, youngest brother, 28 years old, musician who is usually on tour and does not live with them
i saw there were some updates to the images chatgpt can create, so i decided to redo my characters. i think i like the old ones better though.
I had been in a perpetual state of panic for what felt like months, but when Violet asked me point blank if I was Pattie Cake, it sent me over the edge. I should've seen this coming — after our trip to Seattle, I'd known she was close, but I just hadn't expected her to be this close.
A nagging feeling kept trying to convince me to tell her, and I almost did except she had to mention Gabe looking for evidence. Even if Violet chose to let me off, there's no way Gabe would do the same. Thinking about him realizing my true identity made me shiver. Because not only would he 100% choose his client over helping me work out a deal, he'd be pissed that I was lying to him this whole time. I didn't want to make Gabe that level of angry.
What a fucking tangled mess.
I had to get out of the apartment for a bit, away from Violet and Izaak. Not only because it was "chores" time (which was certainly going to make her lose her shit on him), but also because it was ridiculously hard to keep this secret with her so physically close to me, and knowing that she already knew.
Laptop and iPad in tow, I caught the train to Manhattan, where there was a college cafe with fast internet and enough students around that I wouldn't look suspicious. Even though I had a basic VPN, I didn't want to be too close to home, just in case someone was able to crack through.
I missed Sage. She would know how to put up the proper safeguards that no one would be able to figure out.
I ordered a black coffee and sat at a corner table, wondering who I could frame.
Weed buzzing through my veins, slowing down the activity in my brain, I pulled up the folder where I had started saving information about each of my 12 suspects. If I'm being completely honest, some of them I just had a weird feeling about. But they all went to high school in Michigan (various cities) and matched Pattie Cake's information — pretty white girl with blue eyes, graduated high school between 2009-2012, lived in the Detroit and/or Chicago area around 2013, and nothing crazy that would have prevented them from being a con artist in 2013 (like pregnant or in the hospital).
I pulled out the list where I'd scribbled down the names and had started more in depth research.
The apartment was eerily quiet all weekend without Violet around. I sorta enjoyed the peace, but the silence also penetrated me to my core, reminding me of how alone I was. Adam cancelled our Sunday hangout, a weekly brunch we'd consistently attended since the first time we dated. Cancelling was just another clue that abandonment was on the way.
At least I have weed, I told myself, packing the bowl of my pipe with a fresh batch from my dealer. And at least Isabel will be okay.
"I'll clean up," Clo offered as I came back to the table.
Izaak shook his head. "We'll all clean up." He stood and went to the cabinet, reaching up to get a small glass storage container, scraping the remaining food inside. He snapped the lid on top, then handed it to me, along with the picture of juice, so I could put them both in the fridge. Clo took the dirty dishes to the sink, pushing on the water and waiting for it to heat up as she squeezed dish soap onto a sponge. Izaak wiped off the table with a washcloth, then moved to clean the counters. There wasn't actually much for me to do.
"Bro, where did you put my smokes? Now's a great time for a cigarette."
He just kept up with his cleaning, ignoring my question.
So I started looking for my pack of cigarettes. Where could he have put them? I first checked the bookcase, even standing on my tip toes to see if he'd put them higher than I could see, but nope. I opened the closet, checking all of the shelves, even under the towels, still nothing. When I shut the door, Izaak was standing behind it, hands on his hips. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like? Tryin' to find my cigarettes. I need one after dinner slash before bed."
"You're not smoking this weekend."
"Bro, what? C'mon, I need them. Where they at?"
"Locked up in the safe. You'll get them back Sunday evening. And as I've told you before, it's a nasty habit that you need to break. So there will be zero cigarettes this evening."
"Enough," he said with an edge to his voice, enough to get me to stop. Then he reached for my backpack, which wasn’t fully secured, just thrown casually over my right shoulder. I backed up, blocking him.
"What the fuck?"
He let out a growl at my inability to control the use of my f-bombs. “You’re this close to a mouth soaping.” He stuck his thumb and forefinger up in warning, showing me exactly how much more I needed to push before earning a childish punishment. Then he held out his hand for my backpack. "You've already proven that I cannot trust you to not bring contraband into this apartment, so I will be searching your belongings."
I let out a laugh. "This ain't the fuckin’ airport, bro. You don't have the right to look through my shit."
Izaak's sigh was so powerful that I could feel his breath, which made me giggle. And then he dragged me to the bathroom, causing my backpack to slide off my shoulder and land in the middle of the entryway. I ignored it for now, because we had bigger problems than Izaak’s insistence on searching my bag. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to change my whole manner of speaking.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just reached inside the closet and pulled out a new bar of soap. Then he turned back to me. "Under this roof, we communicate respectfully.”
“Whatever,” I said with an eyeroll.
"You know Izaak's not going to let you have those."
I glanced over at Clo as I unwrapped the pack of cigarettes I'd just bought (after smoking a half-pack today to deal with my anger). "Bro, I'll just hide 'em in my backpack and sneak out after he's sleepin'. I ain't worried." I tapped out a cancer stick, popped it on my mouth, then offered her one.
She shook her head. "I don't have a death wish. He's still pissed about me taking Molly's pen."
I snorted. "Yeah, you're such an innocent little angel," I said, not totally able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I flicked my lighter and inhaled the first drag.
We walked in silence for a minute, Clo's heels clicking against the pavement as I took another pull, wondering for the millionth time that day if she was Pattie Cake. The more I'd researched the other suspects, the more suspicious I'd become about Chloe Peterson, and it was killing me. I wanted to be wrong... I didn't want to get my friend in trouble. But if she lied to me (and the rest of the family), was she really my friend?
Somehow I have to get more info from Clo this weekend.
I took a hit off the vape pen as I stepped onto the subway, ignoring the glare I received from a grumpy old man. While part of me was thankful that Molly had prescribed me a numbing substance to get through the day — I needed it to slow down the billions of thoughts about who Pattie Cake could be (probably Clo?), and weed made it easier for my anger to chill out so I wasn't as snappy with Gabe and Clo — another part of me knew that I was doing exactly what Toby had advised against.
As the doors closed behind us, I offered Clo a hit off the pen. She shook her head. "I don't have a death wish. Izaak's still mad about me taking Molly's pen."
"Yeah, you're such an innocent little angel," I said with a snort, not totally able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
Nervous energy buzzed inside me as I tried to ignore my nagging suspicion about her true identity. My eyes darted around, ready to fight anytime someone bumped into me. To distract myself, I tried to keep up a light conversation with Clo.
"Legit, when was the last time you had a sleepover at your place?"
"Ummm... I think never."
"Are you fuckin' kidding me?? We've gotta do all the corny white girl shit. Popcorn and ghost stories and talkin' about cute boys and pillow fights."
I sat across from Gabe, ironing out the details of how to deal with Riley and Andy and the whole fiasco. It was easy enough to engage in this logical conversation, problem solving and headed towards a win. But there was a coldness radiating from him that had been driving me crazy since I came clean last week.
When we finished, he dismissed me, and went immediately back to his computer screen.
"Hey." I cleared my throat, shifting nervously in my seat. "I know you're pissed. Just let me have it. I know I fucked up."
Gabe didn't turn from his work. "We're not doing this on your terms." Period. No other words spoken, just a heavy ice settling in the room.
"I shouldn't have kept it from you for so long, that was wrong of me. I'm sorry."
Still nothing, just the sound of light clicking as he continued typing his document.
"Gabe... please, just say something."
He finally turned, eyes piercing me with his irritation. "Get to work." Then turned back, wanting nothing to do with me.
Frustration boiled over in me, and it took everything to not shove everything off his desk, kick the lamp over, throw the books off his bookcase. Instead I let out a growl and pushed myself up from the chair, half-stomping towards the door, swinging it open and letting it slam behind me. Gabe's new receptionist looked at me with pity as I stalked past her, avoiding eye contact.
Thoughts overwhelmed my mind, and I had to take a break from my computer for a moment. Sitting it to the side, I paced Vic's room, smoking a cigarette.
The night before we'd left for Seattle, when Molly was FaceTiming with Gabe, and he'd said, “You’ll see the humiliation I’m capable of when you return from Seattle,” and Clo had conveniently choked on the smoke at the same time. Had she not realized that's where we were going? Did she know we were going to meet up with her ex-partner in crime?
"What's the case even about?" she had asked me that first morning of our trip, right before sneaking in Sage's house. What was she looking for in that basement? Is that why she wanted me to spank her instead of telling Gabe what she'd done?
“I’m guessin’ this ain’t the first time you’ve gotten a free upgrade.” ... "My dad was an expert at this kinda shit." ... "Salesman?" ... "Thief. He's in jail right now. Convicted felon." Her dad? Maybe he was the key to this.
I sat in Vic's recliner, depositing my cigarette into the ashtray and picking up my computer again. I scrolled up to the guardian names listed on Chloe Peterson's school record. The early years had Melvin Harris and Nancy Peterson, who I assumed were her parents. Later in middle and high school her emergency contact was listed as Esther S. Harris.
"Did y'all ever get caught for real?" ... "Only by my grandma." ..."She musta been pissed!" ... "Nah, my father was always the favorite. Esther was her paternal grandma?
There was another tense silence after Violet finished her confession, all of us sitting together in the heaviness of everything going on. And to think — just a couple of weeks ago we had been frolicking around on the beach and enjoying the freedom of vacation. What a turn around.
"What are we gonna do?" Molly finally asked.
My heart thumped and I snuggled even closer to Izaak, praying that they weren't going to immediately turn me in to the cops, that someone would be on my side. But how could I expect that when it had never been the case.
"First we need to deal with Andy," Gabe said matter-of-factly. "We need to figure out a way to delete whatever he copied from the memory card."
Violet quickly cut in, shaking her head. "There's no way. We have no idea where he even saved the files. I could destroy his phone, but it's probably backed up in the cloud."
"Your friend Riley does." Gabe's tone was bitter as he said it.
"If she already betrayed me like this, do you really think I can get her on my side?"
"I know you can. Find some dirt on her. You're good at that."
There was another moment of stillness as Violet pondered that idea, finally nodding. "Yeah, okay. I can do that."
"Then we need to take Andy down."
[[idk i still have to figure out how this is going to happen and I guess I'm not feeling it tonight 💔]]
I sat in the sand, smoking a cigarette, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. It was nearly dark, so most people had gone inside for the evening, which was exactly what I'd been waiting for — finally some time alone.
Normally I didn't need the break from people, but since Clo had bombarded me with her confession and begged me not to tell Gabe, I had too many emotions to sort out, and no time to really consider them. Not to mention we had been drunk and high pretty much the whole time we'd been on vacation. Well, I exaggerate a bit, but there was lots of weed and alcohol consumption, especially last night.
What a way to spend my weekend celebrating sobriety.
But everyone seemed to have so much going on. Clo with her secret, Molly with her inability to break up with Adam, Toby with whatever the fuck manic episode he had, Vic processing the horrors he saw in Arizona, Gabe with his concern over Molly, me with guarding Clo's secret... everyone except Izaak seemed to be losing it. And Izaak might just be a good faker.
Memories from my past haunted me — lying to Gabe, him finding out in the worst way, the icy silence that he greeted me with afterwards, my pushing him for any kind of reaction. Then he didn't talk to me for years. He didn't not-talk to me either, he was just super indifferent. He still helped take care of Vic's immigration stuff, he footed the bill for Toby's services. But I really fucked up by lying to him.
For some reason, I couldn't muster up the courage to give Izaak the heads up before the meeting. My anxiety was too overbearing. I didn't even go home, just wandered around the city all day, avoiding everyone. Entertaining the idea of escaping to Canada, I passed by the bus station, checking ticket prices before talking myself out of it. I even called Sage, disappointed when she didn't answer.
As the sun approached the horizon, I finally headed towards Molly's apartment. My insides churned with disapproval, trying to keep me away from the meeting. But somehow my legs carried me forward anyway, and my finger clicked the buzzer, and my hands pushed open the door. I was soon greeted by four sets of eyes and the most solemn mood ever.
"Is Toby coming?" I asked, plopping down on the couch next to Izaak.
"He still ain't answering." Violet rolled her eyes. "He's the one who should be here gettin' his ass beat for avoiding us all."
I glanced at Molly who shifted uncomfortably in her recliner, guilt written all over her face.
"Today's subject isn't the doc, it's the two of you," Gabe responded.
Izaak stiffened at my side, eyeing me.
Violet noticed. "Bro, you didn't tell him yet?"
"Tell me what?"
I brought my knees to my chest, curling into a ball and feeling the weight of everyone staring at me, waiting for me to break.
When the silence became too much, Violet groaned in frustration. "C'mon, sis. Usually it's me in the hot seat, last week was Molls, now's your turn. Spill it."
I arrived to the office still feelings the emotional effects of the video Andy had posted online. I still shuttered when I thought about my most intimate parts being exposed online, along with my face for everyone to see me. Not only that, but I was also slightly worried about Violet. Izaak had sent me to bed and sleep overtook my body before he'd come back home from checking on her. All he'd told me during our morning routine was that he took her home and she seemed to be fine.
But when I arrived a couple of minutes late, Violet was nowhere to be found. Which made my heart thump a little louder than normal.
I just want all this to be over.
Vic wrung his hands in nervousness as he paced in the courthouse. I took a moment to admire his suit and tie, which made him look absolutely gorgeous, despite the nervous sweat that formed at his brow. Placing a hand on his shoulder, I whispered, "Hey, don't worry, she'll make it."
"And I'll make sure she understands how important punctuality is," Gabe added, looking like he was going to take off his belt right there and deal with Violet as soon as she came through the doors.
"She's always late," Vic grumbled, pushing his hair out of his eyes and turning towards me. He managed a half-smile. "But I won't lie, I'm worried she's doing this on purpose because she's been pissed at me so much lately."
"Violet wouldn't miss this for the world. Your her big brother, she loves you even through all that unfiltered anger."
Vic's aunt rattled something to him in Spanish, which caused his uncle to give the classic Esperanza Eye Roll. They really were all alike with their fiery attitude. As Vic answered, rolling his r's with the precision of a native speaker, we heard the door slam and collectively looked up to see Violet, rushing inside in a wrinkly lavender dress.
"So nice of you to make it," Gabe said, giving her a look that I could only interpret as I'll deal with you when we get home.
"Sorry, bro, the trains were a fuckin' mess." She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek, then greeted her cousins and aunt, completely ignoring her uncle. "Were y'all just waitin' on me?"
It was half past midnight when I arrived at Dominic's, and Clo was already sitting in a booth, scrolling through her phone. Our usual drinks sat in front of her, glasses filled to the brim.
"Hey," I said as I slid in across from her.
She looked up from her phone, smiling up at me. "Today's meeting was tense."
I nodded. "You didn't have to order me this... I think I'm giving up on drinking for a while."
Clo's eyebrows raised. "Guess I'll have to drink both." Then she took a sip of her mojito. "Do you think Molly's okay? And Toby? What the hell happened today?"
"This isn't what we're here to talk about." The anger burned in my chest, half-blaming Clo for the mess that had ensued, even though Molly was the one who made the mistake. Clo had also made a mistake, though, and not telling Gabe was killing me... and after today, it didn't seem like a good time to rock the boat again.
"I know. But I'm genuinely worried about them. They've become my family, too..."
When everyone finally stopped ganging up on me, Izaak cleared his throat. "Everyone should know that Esperanza won the bet we made."
"Yeah I survived his weekend of fucking torture. Which means I get to beat his ass now!"
Gabe rolled his eyes. "Oh great, just what we need, Violet on her high horse again."
"A bet's a bet." I pushed myself up from my chair and went to the implement bucket, sorting through the paddles. The wood clacked together as I debated between either the hole-y paddle or a fraternity-type paddle, finally settling on the latter.
Glancing up at Izaak, I tapped it against my palm and grinned. Don't tell anyone, but I actually felt kind of nervous and awkward. We totally didn't have a switchy-type relationship.
"Are you gonna just sit there or actually get into position?"
All eyes turned towards him, waiting to see how this was going to go. Izaak didn't flinch as he stood, and I wondered how he was feeling underneath his calm exterior. Was he as nervous as me? Did this excite him at all? Surely he wouldn't be worried about the pain — I doubt he'd even feel my pathetic swings, even if I gave it my all.
[[[[this is so weird to write!!!]]]]
"I didn't go to school all week... the depression is killing me. And my mom just doesn't understand. She thinks all meds are bad." My seventeen year old client sighed, slumped in her seat, looking so disconnected from herself. "But nothing else is helping. My friend gave me edibles, but after last time..." when she took too many and had a psychotic meltdown... "I don't want to do that again. Is that the only thing I can do though?" She looked up at me, eyes stony, reminding me of myself. "If my mom refuses meds... is my only option getting illegal drugs?"
My heart broke for her. I had tried everything — talking to her mom, sending psychiatrist referrals, getting my supervisor involved, even calling child services (who didn't do anything). In my client's community, there was such a denial of mental health services, including therapy. Anti-depressants were seen as giving into the weakness, a character flaw even. They were old school... the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" type. It was so ingrained in their culture that all of my pleas were useless.
"It just makes me want to die."
"Isabel, no." I leaned forward in my chair, showing the deep compassion I felt for her situation. "I know it feels like too much right now, but we are going to get through this, I promise." I let out a breath, lip quivering as I imagined the worst case scenario. Then I was just honest with her: "I'm worried about you."
She nodded, looking away. "Me too."
Vacation was supposed to be fun. Here we were, celebrating my two weeks of sobriety from coke, but I didn't feel like I deserved it. Now I knew the truth about Clo... I knew the whole story, not only from listening to her confession to Toby, but also hearing it directly from her mouth. Her pleas for me not to tell Gabe or Izaak kept me up at night, wondering where my loyalties lie.
Gabe, who had stopped talking to me for six years after I lied to him, but then offered me a way out of my fuck up, giving me a job and enough money to pay off my debts. On some level he must have cared about me, right? And loyalty was a big deal to him. Keeping this secret now was criminal.
But if loyalty was so important to him, wouldn't he understand me wanting to keep this secret for Clo?
The other thing that kept me up at night was memories of her paying off Andy with that money she stole... I had been drunk and high off my ass, egging Andy on, inches away from him demanding one of his goons shoot me. But would he have actually ordered that? He did order them to go after Gabe... but we had more history than that. Did he have a soft spot for me?
All of this was on my mind all weekend, only numbed momentarily when drunk or high. Funny how the weekend vacation to celebrate my sobriety was filled with mind altering substances.
I guess this is part of what made the cravings come back so strong. Coke made me feel so powerful... so in control.
I had been trying all day to get into the fucking memory card, with no luck. The pressure from Gabe had lit a (literal and figurative) fire under my ass, prompting me to figure out some actual proof before our meeting Wednesday. I didn't want to go in empty handed, but mostly I didn't want to take the chance of turning Clo in without proof.
When I finally packed up for the day and headed out of the office, I made the executive decision to go to Dominic's. The coke cravings were still real, despite the caning I'd received earlier. I silently wondered if it would be possible to get a few bumps without anyone ever finding out. Maybe I could even just get a little baggy? I could hide it in the inner pocket of my suitcase...
My thought was cut off by a text message.
What time are we meeting?
Ugh Gabe... setting me up a meeting with Toby as if I didn't have better things to do. But I had to go, otherwise he would be suspicious of me and beat the truth out. I hurriedly typed out a response — can i come now?
I didn't wait for a response before descending to the train platform heading in his direction. At least maybe Toby could get me a prescription for Molly.
x-x-x-x
"You and Gabe all chummy now? It's fuckin' weird, bro. What's up with that?"
Toby's expression remained flat as he closed the door behind me. "We're here to talk about you."
I was scrolling through TikTok when the door swung open. "My office. Now." As quickly as he entered, Gabe let the door slam shut, expecting me to follow him.
With a groan, I pushed myself up from the conference room table, pocketing my phone and closing my laptop before obeying.
When I got to his office, my boss snapped, "Close the door," as if I already wasn't going to do that.
"Who got your panties all in a bunch?" I asked, plopping down in front of him.
Gabe was not amused. "I told you I wanted to meet about the Winters case right away this morning. Where were you?"
"Um, doing the fucking job you hired me to do."
He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket, then pressed his palms flat against the desk, leaning towards me. "The fucking job I hired you to do involves obeying my orders." His tone was dangerously low, indicating that I was inches away from him retrieving his cane.
But it'd been a rough few days, so I wasn't ready to back down so easily. Between Izaak's weekend of torture (which I won the bet, btw), Clo's lies, and the plethora of pieces I'd found to confirm my intuition, I was in no mood to deal with his bullshit. Pushing myself up from the chair, I also rested my fists against the desk, leaning towards him. "What the hell is your problem? You don't trust me? You don't think I'm moving mountains to find the fucking evidence to give you?"
He knew I was picking a fight, but didn't entertain me. "What did you find in Seattle?"
Chloe Peterson.
Hearing Izaak say her name like that stunned me into silence the rest of the meeting. My mind was racing too much to even pay attention to Clo's caning or the chit chat that followed. I was stuck on remembering the yearbook picture... a blonde girl from Lansing, Michigan, with a slight smirk and high school grades that reflected what could be the work of a con artist.
[[right now I'm in shock and denial. It can't be her, can it? What are the chances?]]
The pieces connected – Clo’s curiosity about the case, sneaking in when we visited Sage, all those "good deals" she got us in Seattle, giving in so easily to me spanking her, the story about her criminal father…
Goddammit. There were so many signs and I never saw it!
[[I'm feeling stupid, like the evidence was so obvious, right there in front of me, and my dumbass didn't see it. Right under my nose the whole time... how did I not see it? But I'm also feeling conflicted... because really? Sweet innocent little Clo? But now the evidence is pointing straight to her. Did she talk to Sage at all? I was so caught up in my anger towards her that I hadn't even noticed...]]
As I laid in Izaak's bed staring at the ceiling, I thought back over the last 24 hours. All the research I'd done — not only on Chloe Peterson, but also the handful of other young women who could potentially be Pattie Cake. The conversation with Molly. Gabe's insistence that I give him some concrete evidence after the weekend. Taking Clo to the rooftop, high out of my mind, numbing the anger, betrayal, and fear. Izaak's protective vibe and curiosities about if he knew the truth with his roommate. And now, laying next to her in bed, completely sober, my impulsive instincts wanting to take over.
"Why did your dad go to jail?" I rolled over to face her, even though it was dark and I could barely see the outline of her thin body.
Her breathing stopped for a moment, and I wondered if she would ignore my question. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and measured. "He had some elaborate con with some business in Chicago. I don't know all the details... I was pretty young and my granny kept me out of the loop." She swallowed. "Why do you want to know?"
"How did he get caught?" I wondered aloud, then thinking of my wonderful therapist friends, I added, "What was it like for you?"
There was an awkward silence. She clearly didn't want to talk about this, but as I've been told, I don't know when to stop asking questions. Or maybe I do, and just don't give a fuck.
(my weekend goal is to review everything I already have written for the upcoming chapters so I can revise and post them!)
All of the evidence was pointing to Chloe Peterson as Pattie Cake, and there were too many coincidences with Clo.
Both of them had a criminal father who went to jail the same year. Clo had seemed believable when she told me her dad's name was Lester, but as a professional liar, I hesitated to believe her — Lester was also too close to her grandma's name.
And speaking of grandma's, Chloe Peterson's guardian seemed to be her grandma, and Clo admitted several times that she was close to her granny. Not to mention Clo's grandma died around the same time Winters received the threatening call from Pattie Cake, and right before Clo moved in with Izaak.
And Pattie met Winters shortly after Izaak moved to NYC.
And those piercing, sexy blue eyes.
I'd gotten as much info from Izaak as I could without compromising the case. I'd asked him enough about Clo's history and he was just too private about that kind of stuff. As hard to read as Clo herself.
It was just all adding up.
Molly's plea came to mind — It seems like you don't have enough against her yet to accuse her. And the stakes are too high to just turn her in like that without knowing for sure.
Did I have enough info now? How much did I need before telling him my suspicions? Would it even be possible to know without a shadow of doubt?
I sat in the backseat of Gabe's car staring at the flashing lights while he finished smoothing everything over with the cops for me. Andy and his cousin, Leo, were in cuffs leaning against the trunk of the cop car, arguing with one of the officers. The scene formed a pit in my stomach. My ex-boyfriend and his crew had already caused enough drama, threatening me within inches of my life, calling immigration with lies about my brother, pulling a gun on Gabe... I should've learned my lesson already, but of course I hadn't.
The door opening snapped me out of my thoughts as Gabe plopped down next to me with a loud sigh. His driver glanced back in the rearview mirror, waiting for the half nod from Gabe, signaling to head home. The clock on the dashboard read 3:19am.
"Where's Molly?" I wondered aloud.
Gabe's sharp glare made me question if I had said something wrong. "Home, where she should have been this whole time." There was a fierce protectiveness as he said it, a side of him that rarely came out.
As the driver pulled into the empty Manhattan streets, I swallowed a lump in my throat, taking a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart. Gabe's icy silence gave me all the information I needed — he was pissed and no amount of talking would get me out of this. It was the longest 20-block ride I'd ever taken.
I woke up Sunday morning parched and with a pounding headache, instantly regretting my night of freedom. As much as I hated Gabe's control, there were moments (like this) where I was thankful that he had stepped in when he did. Who knows what kind of mess I would be in without him?
The hangover prevented me from wanting to roll out of bed, so instead I laid there and thought about everything that had happened over the last couple of days. Realizing Clo was Pattie Cake, our late night meeting where she confessed, Andy's blackmail, Gabe and Izaak flipping out when they found out we went to Dominic's. I was mad at myself for promising Clo that I'd keep shit quiet, regretting that decision almost in the exact moment that I made it, even though I owed her one. I badly wanted to talk to Gabe — he would know how to fix it all. But there was a part of me that feared that he would choose Winters over Clo.
It's his job to side with Winters. The same thing Clo had told me to convince me not to tell. And the truth.
And it's my job to find Clo.
My heart thumped inside my chest as I thought about keeping this knowledge from Gabe a second longer. My loyalty should be to Gabe, not Clo... I barely even knew her... and she's a con artist! Who knows how honest she was even able to be with me.
For the first time in months, I felt calm. My focus solely on the art in front of me while Toby stayed close by, radiating a feeling of safety that I'd needed for a while. It was different than how I felt with Izaak — my roommate would protect me at all costs, but his fierce loyalty to the FBI had me skeptical of where I stood. Toby looked for a different kind of intimacy... he wanted to see every part of me, and accept all of those parts, regardless of whether I accepted myself. He asked all the right questions, genuinely curious about my past, not allowing me to hide. It was so refreshing, I almost wanted to confess everything to him. Almost.
When our art was complete, I took a step back and looked it over. "I feel like an official street artist now," I said with a grin, glancing over at Toby. He was splattered with paint, all the way from his Vans up to his backward hat he always wore to running group.
Violet's intensity was scaring me. "Please don't tell anyone... just give me some time, I'll figure something out..."
"Bro," she began, shaking her head. "I ain't promising shit. How long you been a con artist? I need the details."
I ignored the way my stomach twisted in knots, straightening up and steadying my breathing. "I'll tell you everything... just please... Gabe can't know... and Izaak..."
"You really think Sergeant Douche is that clueless?" She cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back, giving me a glare that sent a chill down my spine.
He has to be, I thought, or he wouldn't still keep me around, right? "It started when my granny got sick..."
"Don't play the pity card," she warned, taking a sip of her drink but urging me to continue.
"I don't need your pity." The conviction in my voice surprised both of us. I cleared my throat. "She needed care that I couldn't provide. There aren't many quick way to make money... and you've seen me, there's no way I could pull off being a drug dealer."
"What about dear ol' dad? He didn't have his own con money to share?"
I shook my head. "He was already in jail. All his resources had been used up for a legal defense, which obviously didn't work it. It was just granny and me. I was like 20... working shitty part time jobs."
"Izaak had already left." Framed more as a statement, but I nodded anyway. "Would you have done it if he hadn't?"
"Who knows. I was desperate and men are usually easy to trick."
