Page 38 of Shameless

“There was a storm right at the time when I had to make the delivery. I’m so sorry, the boat I stole capsized and I almost died. My guess is that the bag is at the bottom of the sea somewhere between the two Twinberry Islands.”

He keeps staring at me, his expression stony. Not one word, not one blink to give me an idea of how much trouble I’m really in.

“What happened after you almost died?” he asks. “You look fine to me.”

I tell him how Jules pulled me out of the stormy sea and how I almost died of hypothermia. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but things went from bad to worse. I was hoping to go out looking for the bag, to at least bring it back to you, but…”

I tell him about the murders at the stables.

There’s a beat of silence after I finish describing the carnage Jules and I witnessed yesterday morning.

Mason nods. “I think you’re telling the truth. You didn’t shoot those three people, did you?”

A gasp escapes my lips. “Me? How could you think I would?—”

Mason laughs. “Relax, Lula. I’m just fucking with you. I know you didn’t shoot those people and I know you’re telling the truth about that bag.”

I’m confused. “I know I’m telling the truth, but how can you be so sure?”

Mason’s smile widens. “Did you really think I wouldn’t keep track of you? I put an air tag in the bag I gave you and on you.”

That makes sense, it’s totally something Mason would do. However I still have questions. “On me? What do you mean on me? If you had put an air tag on me, I would know.”

He laughs. “Lula, Lula.” His eyes leave mine to go down my body, stopping at my wrist. “Remember the smart watch I gave you for your seventeenth birthday? As a present and as a bonus for your incredible sales?”

What the fuck.

“So you’ve actually been keeping tabs on me this whole time?” I look at my watch as if it contained explosives.

Mason looks amused by my surprise. “Did you really think I would trust you with my merch without keeping tabs on you? It was ok at first when you moved negligible amounts, but as your clientele grew, so did my investment in you. My dad and my uncle taught me to watch my back from my friends more than I do with my enemies. After all you expect your enemies to try and fuck you over, so you’re vigilant. But the ones who can cause even more damage are the people you trust. Your so called friends.”

I guess what he’s saying makes sense. However I can’t help but feel sad for him.

How sad must it be to live life without ever trusting anyone? It hits me that there are three people I trust with my life. Stefan, Crew and even Jules. If they ever hurt me, they did it because they thought I had betrayed them, like Stefan. Or to protect me, no matter if their attempt was misguided, like Jules.

“I took the fall for you, Mason,” I say softly. “You didn’t even have to ask, I offered.”

A hard glint shines in his eyes, his jaw taut with tension. “Why did you, Lula?”

I tell him the truth. “Because you believed me when I told you what Evan tried to do to me. You were the only one,” I say the last part with a sardonic snort. “And you protected me.”

His expression doesn’t change. “I did. But I asked for something in return. I didn’t do it out of kindness, I got you to sell for me.”

I shrug. “It was a small price to pay for your protection. And you paid me too.”

The corner of his lips lifts in a lopsided smile. “It was a mutually beneficial deal. So you didn’t kill Eddie and Trevor. I spoke to Trevor just minutes before it happened and you were on the same island but way too far away for you to make it there to kill him.”

I don’t understand what he’s saying. “You spoke to Trevor and Eddie? What do you mean? Trevor is the guy who almost had me raped and beaten when he caught me selling part of the stash you gave me at a party. Why would you talk to him?”

Mason’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I think there might have been a little misunderstanding, Lula. Trevor works—or should I say worked—for my uncle.”

My jaw hits the sand, figuratively speaking of course. But yeah, I’m staring at Mason with my mouth gaping open. “He did?”

“Yeah, you know the best Italian restaurant in town? Morelli’s? It belongs to my family.”

Fuck. I have never made the connection. It’s one of our favorite places to eat when we aren’t having dinner at the club and we want something nicer than fast food.

“As you know, we have a chain of restaurants scattered all over the country,” Mason continues. “It’s the… let’s call it the official part of the family business. It helps to clean up the money that comes from the other branches of our business.”

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