Feather Bound (22 page)

But it was all background noise. Even the reporter's blather slipped past my notice. It was Beatrice I was focused on. Lean, arrogant and surrounded by a gaggle of press at the center of the Hedley building's rotunda, she wielded her red smile like a sword as she answered questions about the sudden switch up.

“We both felt as though this was the best choice of action,” she bullshitted. “As we all know, Hyde Hedley is a very smart young man, but just not ready to take on such a big responsibility. We both decided that his father's company would be better left in the hands of someone with a little more business experience and worldly wisdom.”

I called Hyde's cell. No answer. “She did something,” I whispered, hanging up.

Ade blinked “Huh?”

“That evil woman did something to him, I can tell!” I rushed over to the shoe mat. Anton and now Beatrice – God, was that entire family insane? “I'm going to go see Hyde!”

I slipped on some sneakers and headed out the door. I called Hyde about a dozen times throughout the trip over, and each time my rings went unanswered. The taxi dropped me off at the gate where swarms of press were already gathered outside, snapping photos, chatting into cameras. Forcing my way through would be next to impossible. I tried his cell again. No answer. I tried his house phone too. No answer. I texted. Nothing. What was he doing?

Deflated, I left the reporters to scrounge through his garbage. A day passed. Two. Finally, an entire week was dead and gone. I called, emailed, texted, begging him to talk to me. Not one of my pleas was answered.

Maybe this was a good thing. At the end of the day, Anton wanted Hyde out; he'd left and even passed Anton's stepmom the crown and sceptre. That was probably why Anton hadn't bothered contacting me at all since the party. The mission had been accomplished, after all, somehow. But it was the somehow that bothered me.

“Are you going out?” said Ericka from the kitchen, stirring the beef stew she hadn't made in years – as evidenced by the smell: a bizarre mixture of garlic and what I assumed was stale toilet water. A week had gone by and Ericka was still sleeping in my room, forcing me to contend with Ade elbowing me in the head every night.

Dad was both thrilled and ashamed when he'd found her sitting on the couch, trying to placate François. I'd figured things would fall apart pretty soon with the family dynamics shot to hell so suddenly, but the two of them had actually been getting along quite well. I would hear their long conversations at night in the living room, unable to pick out words, yet still fascinated by the eager hisses of their whispers.

“Yeah,” I answered. “I'm going to try seeing Hyde again.”

“Are you sure that's wise? If he wanted to talk to you, he'd have done it by now.”

I shoved my hands into my jeans pockets. “He probably just needed some time to adjust or something.”

Ericka sighed and shook her head. “Deanna, I know you're worried, but don't be naïve. When girls are naïve they can be easily taken advantage of. You're still young. Don't get caught up in something you don't have to.” For a moment, I wondered if Ericka had forgotten who I was – or if she'd been staring at her reflection in the pot's dirty steel while lecturing me.

“I know, I know. But it won't take long.”

I left. This time when the taxi pulled up to Hyde's townhouse, there wasn't a single soul outside his door. I supposed the press had already burnt through that story and were off chasing reality TV stars outside courtrooms. The sun was sinking; soon evening would streak yellows and violets across the sky. I knocked.

“Hyde? It's me!”

No answer. I peered up at the double windows above the terrace, but the windows were tinted. I called his cell. It rang several times before someone finally picked up.

“Hello?” The voice rasped on the other end, fizzling out at the end before the last syllable could sound.

“Hyde?” I paused. “Is that you?” I had to ask because the voice could only belong to a newly excavated corpse.

“Deanna. What do you want?”

The blunt edge of his words stunned me into silence for a few moments. “I'm outside your place. Can I… Can I come in?”

Several moments of silenced passed. Suddenly, the door opened. Hyde stood with his phone in one hand while the other slipped through his dishevelled hair. “I'm busy, so this'll have to be quick.”

I followed him in, too shocked to say anything about his filthy T-shirt and crumpled jeans, which looked like they'd been worn every day for exactly a week. A stale odor had infested the house, as thick and sluggish as Hyde's steps. Open bottles of whisky on the bar counter. Clothes on the stripped Persian rug and leaves of paper all over the couch.

“What's… going on?” I watched him with a frown as he poured himself another drink.

“Isn't that my question to ask? What are you doing here? Why have you been calling me?” A cold, brisk tone. This Hyde was light years away from the one who'd crushed me to him in the flickering glow of the candlelight.

“I've been worried, dumbass!” I barked, striding up to him and snatching the glass out of his hands before he could empty it down his throat. He was probably already drunk. “What is going on? Why did you give
Beatrice Rey
of all people the company? What did she do to you?”

At the sound of her name two things happened. He flinched, first. It was hard to ignore. His fingers had jolted so violently, I thought a nerve had been cut. But his eyes... his eyes softened. Not at all tenderly, of course. Having been the target of Hyde's affection, I knew all too well what tenderness looked like in his eyes. The way they softened this time… I couldn't put my finger on it, but it felt wrong. Hollow.

“She didn't do anything,” Hyde answered, almost automatically. “I gave her the majority share of the company.”

I gestured to the broken lamp on the ground next to the TV. “Obviously willingly as evidenced by how well you're taking things.”

“Look, I don't know what you want.” He strode into the living room.

“Just talk to me!” I demanded, following behind him. “I mean, what the hell! All this time, I've been telling you stuff about me – really personal stuff!” Obviously not everything, but the point still stood. “And you've told me next to nothing about you. Why am I the one who has to open up? When are you going to put a little bit of effort in?”

Hyde stopped in front of one of his pearl white ottomans. “Fine. Let's break up.”

My heart thudded to a stop. “What?”

He turned to me, his face a blank canvas. It was worse than if it'd been contorted into a scowl. “Let's break up. Problem solved.”

My lips parted. I grabbed his arm instead, searching his eyes, wondering why they seemed so hollow.

“It wouldn't have worked anyway. Deanna…” He paused. “I was arrogant to think I could just walk back into your life. Things are too complicated now. It wasn't fair to you. Just forget about me.” Wordlessly, he stared out of the half-length tinted windows, watching the sky fade. “It's almost dark.” Then an ominous silence hung over him.

My feet carried me to the couch, as if somehow they knew how badly I wanted to collapse onto it. It shouldn't have been so devastating. This whole “relationship” had begun as a lie anyway. It was only fitting it'd end on another one. Yet the tears were coming anyway. This was all so stupid. Why was I crying? It was ridiculous.

“Hyde… are you really OK with this?”

“I'm sorry,” he said and gripped me by the wrist – almost violently. “I'm really sorry, but you have to go. You shouldn't have even come here. No, I shouldn't have let you in.” He pulled me to the door.

“Wait! Hyde, wait a second.” I grabbed the doorframe before he could push me out. “Look, I'm sorry, but can't we just talk about this? Please?”

Hyde gazed up at the sky. “I can't. It's getting late.”

“What? Late? You suddenly have a curfew now?”

His face paled several shades. “I'm sorry.”

He didn't look at me when he shut the door in my face. Maybe he couldn't.

 

“He dumped you?” Ade gave me an incredulous look as she spread butter over her toast. It was 2 o'clock in the morning when I finally told her. Ericka, Dad and François were asleep. I suppose Ade assumed something was wrong once she spotted me on the couch stuffing my face with ice cream sandwiches while watching
The Sound of Music
– or possibly when I teared up during “Do-Re-Mi.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“I don't know.” I pushed the chocolate stained wrappers off the couch and twisted around to face her. “It was just… it was so sudden. How do you go from lighting candles for a girl to literally throwing her out the door? He just seemed so… gone. And he'd been drinking.”

For one second, I thought I smelled it again: the stale scent of alcohol curling off him.

Ade leaned against the back of the couch, her arm balanced over the ledge, sneaking in one last side glance before, turning her gaze to the stairs. “Wow. And here I thought you two were totes ‘true loves forever',” she said dryly, though she just as easily could have been telling the truth. That would explain the wisp of relief carrying her words.
Relief
. A part of me wondered if the sight of me stress eating on the couch gave her a slight tingle of satisfaction.

“I never gave that impression, Ade,” I said. “You chose to interpret it that way. And I have a few guesses why.”

Ade shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't mean–”

“It's not like I chased after Hyde, you know.” I wiped the chocolate off the side of my mouth and glared at her. “It's not like I went rich husband-shopping in Manhattan just to one-up you.”

“I know.” Ade shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pocket. “I know.”

Seconds passed. Neither of us said anything. Shaking my head, I leaned over and grabbed the half-empty can of soda off the table to wash the chocolate down.

Ade cleared her throat. “If Hyde seemed pretty messed up,” she said, the tension unravelling in her voice, “it was probably because he just lost the company.”

I squeezed the soda can in my hand. “Yeah. But he said he gave it away willingly.”

“And you believe him?”

For a moment, I stared back at the fixed smiling faces of the Von Trapp family waiting for me to press play. “No. Something obviously happened. Something's seriously wrong. He just won't tell me about it. Why won't he tell me about it? Why won't he tell me
anything
?”

I dropped my head into my hands, my exasperated groan nearly drowning out the buzz of my phone vibrating on the table. Ade picked it up before I could.

“Why is
Anton
sending you a text?”

My blood froze in my veins. “Give me that!” Even she was shocked by how violently I snatched the phone from her hands – and how violently my hands were shaking. Anton. He'd finally contacted me. But why? He had everything he wanted. What else could he possibly want from me?

“Deanna?” Ade grabbed my shoulder and turned me to her. “What's wrong? Hey! He's not trying to hook up with
you
now is he? What's going on?”

I shook my head and, keeping my head lowered and hiding the screen from Ade's view, clicked the message:
My loft. Sundown tomorrow.

His loft? I shivered, turning the phone over on my lap so that the screen remained hidden.

“Deanna, is he bothering you?” Ade shook me. “God, I can't believe I ever wasted my sexy flirting with that skeez. If he is bothering you, you gotta tell me.”

But if I told her and Anton found out… “No, it's OK. I'll handle it.”

“Stop being so
stupid
, Deanna,
God
!” Ade slapped me upside the head, nostrils flaring. “Why are you always like that? Just like when Mom died. You think you're a goddamn hero by keeping this shit to yourself?”

“I'm sorry,” I muttered brusquely, turning off the TV before standing. “It's nothing, really. I texted Anton because I figured he might know what's up with Hyde. I know what you're thinking,” I added quickly, once her eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. “I know it's desperate, but they're still family so maybe he knows something. I have to try.” It astounded me, how quickly the lies came now.

I went upstairs without looking back at Ade, because I didn't want or need confirmation that she didn't believe me. Since we shared a room now, I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.
What is this about
,
I texted back.
Hyde's gone. Your stepmom has the company. You won. Why do you still need me?

I dreaded the answer.

My fingers gripped the sink's ledge.

 

“Hyde!” I banged on his door. “Hyde, open up!” I figured if he wasn't going to answer the thousands of my calls I barraged his phone with throughout the day, I might as well ambush him at his house. It was almost sundown. I still hadn't decided whether I would go through with meeting Anton or not. I'd hoped I'd be able to hear it from Hyde instead.

Finally the door creaked open. I pushed it in. Hyde nearly toppled over.

“What's your problem?” he yelled, recoiling at the sight of me furious at his doorstep.

“What's
your
problem? Why are you meeting Beatrice Hoffer-Rey at hotels late at night? Why are you meeting Beatrice at all?”