Beach Thriller(53)
The bottom line was that she liked the girl, despite her lying. Holly found Jade spunky and daring. She was the embodiment of the characters she loved to write about: people hurtling through life on the razor’s edge of control, desperate for happiness, willing to put everything on the line to get it.
Maybe that was why Jade’s betrayal felt so personal. She admired her and saw qualities in the young woman that she wished to embody. Even though Jade was young and impulsive, Holly had to give her credit for taking fearless action in all her decisions. Meanwhile, what was Holly doing? Had she become a secondary character in her own story? So guilt-ridden over Anna, so afraid and trapped in grief, that she’d run away from her life, exited center stage—to do what? Cocoon herself in New York, writing about other people to avoid looking in the mirror?
That’s why writing was more important than sales. She sought an immersive distraction from herself. Her habit of hiding in plain sight bled into every corner of her existence—even her choice of men. Emotionally stunted. Unavailable. Max, meanwhile, she’d hoisted onto a pedestal so high that no one could ever measure up. That way, she had a good excuse for never finding her person. She didn’t have to try.
Following Anna’s death, Holly had become a hollowed-out version of the woman she aspired to be. She’d transformed into the kind of fictional character even she couldn’t relate to. Worse than unlikable—she was forgettable.
When she died, who would care?
Shae, for one … and Chester, of course. Dan would be sad, but not for long. There’d be another Holly to pluck out of the slush pile. Serena might mourn. Gail would probably wipe away a few tears while hammering the For Sale sign into the ground. Ethan might lament the lost work.
Was that it? The sum total of all the people in her world? The thought stung. Her funeral would be like one of those movie scenes without the money to hire enough extras.
Somehow, in a strange way, Jade felt like … family.
Holly battled back a wave of melancholy. She had practical matters to attend to. “I’m sorry, Jade. But I have a responsibility here.”
Jade’s lips quivered. The girl was on the verge of a breakdown—anyone could see that. And this wasn’t an act.
“You don’t know my parents. I can’t go back there,” she pleaded. “My father’s abusive—I can never do anything right. He called me a whore, all because I got my belly button pierced without his permission.”
Holly winced as though the insult had been directed at her. She suspected Jade did need parental permission, but the reaction was unquestionably abusive, if true. Then again, she had to remind herself that Jade didn’t exactly have a love affair with facts.
“He’s always pissed at me. I don’t clean the house right, I’m not respectful enough, my grades aren’t good enough. This from a guy who works for Busy Bee Septic—I mean, he literally sucks shit for a job.”
Holly couldn’t stifle a laugh. Jade joined in, laughing through her tears. The anger between them dissipated.
“Where’s your mother in all this?” Holly asked.
“My mother is afraid of being alone, so she never stands up to him. Makes excuses instead. Dad’s tired. He works hard to provide. He loves us, he just doesn’t know how to show it. It’s bullshit. She uses vodka as a lie chaser—helps make her self-deception a little less bitter. And I don’t blame her,” Jade added. “She knows exactly how he treats me, because he does the same to her. And then, to keep from getting hit, she’ll join in. At least that’s what I tell myself because I don’t want to think my mother is that shitty. But maybe she is.”
Jade’s whole demeanor shifted. She seemed resigned to her fate. Her shoulders sagged forward. “I’ll go pack my things. I’m not going back there, but I’ll be out of your way in no time—and thanks, Holly, for everything. I mean it. Being here with you has been the best few days I’ve had in a long time.”
Her face was so downcast that it dragged Holly’s heart to the floor. She waited until Jade got halfway up the stairs before calling her name. “Jade—don’t. Just … let’s talk about it.”
Jade whirled on the stairs, came back down, standing tall, fixing Holly with a defiant stare. “Give me your phone, I lost mine on my way to Beauport.” She held out her hand.
“Got it. No aunt, and no phone.”
Jade kept her hand open, again asking for Holly’s device. “You talk to them, and if you think I’m exaggerating after the conversation, I’ll be on the next bus out of town—that is, if you don’t mind lending me the bus fare. I don’t get paid until next week.”
Holly agreed. Jade keyed in a number before handing the phone back to Holly. A moment later, she heard a woman’s voice—slurred and surly.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
Holly cleared her throat, unnerved. “Are you Jade Jensen’s mother?” she asked.
“What the fuck did she do this time?”
Holly inhaled sharply. “Um, nothing,” she said, feeling suddenly off-balance. “I’m just letting you know that she’s fine. She’s in Beauport, Massachusetts. She made her way here, and she’s been staying with me. I’m sorry. I’m Holly Sinclair. I should have introduced myself.”
Why was she so nervous? They were just two adults having a chat about a troubled teen. But something was notably off. She’d heard no sigh of relief, no vocal cue to suggest joy or elation. Holly might be conversing with a zombie.