Page 2 of Wayward
“Well, show me around, Hal.” He glances back at Haley.
“This is it. Three platforms, living room, sleeping, and our version of a bathroom. It’s lovely.” There’s trepidation in her voice, and I fucking hate it. I’m pretty sure it’s fear, but there’s a chance it’s her insecurity sneaking back. I get it. We don’t knowwhat is going on with Thayer. And talking about it as a group isn’t possible because Dante’s right. He set that room up for us. They’ll be listening. At least tonight we’ll be able to write notes to each other and get a few private thoughts across.
“That’s all you want to take, Easton?” Mr. Z asks. I hate that we’re addressing this ass who’s my age as Mr. Z and he’s calling me by my first name. It’s getting under my skin. But I’m sure that’s another one of his methods: get us off-guard, especially me.
The thing is, Mr. Z isn’t here out of the goodness of his heart. No, he wants something. There are three things he could want: The Rock Candy, which doesn’t make sense. We don’t have it, and anyone who can afford the yacht he has doesn’t need it. Second is me. But me alive or me dead? That’s the real question. And the third thing is the Pink Phoenix diamond. Seeing that Haley told us Thayer didn’t realize Sam floated to the island on the Rock Candy, and the same pirates that took the Rock Candy are the same ones who came to the island, it stands to reason the older Mr. Z. knew about Sam being here . . . and also knew that the diamond wasn’t on the Rock Candy. Sure, it’s an expensive diamond. And murders happen every day for a lot less. A lot less.
I look to the beach where the Rosewood’s anchored offshore. There’s something else. Or maybe there isn’t. Maybe it’s all the things put together. Dead or alive?the words echo in my head like a bad western movie?that’s the question.
“Need any help?” I ask Dante. He’s gathered things that people made him, and by people, I mean mostly Calvin and Zane. And honestly, it’s refreshing. I would have thought Dante would have dusted his hands of everything here. But he’s being a lot more sentimental.
“I’m just about wrapping things up.” His box is overflowing.
So is Zane’s and Sam’s. I climb up the ladder, but my guard doesn’t follow. I see why when I get up to the sleeping platform.Calvin, Haley, and two guards are in the room already. And Mr. Z follows behind me.
“Well, isn’t this something? You are all really ingenious. I would have spent the year huddled on the beach covered in seaweed, but look at the lot of you. You’ve got your own little cuddle pile going here.” He walks over to Haley’s suitcase, and I pray it’s locked. “I can see why you wanted to come back and grab more things. That’s some impressive luggage.” He turns to me.
“Not mine?Haley’s,” I say.
“A primary gave it to me a few years ago,” Haley answers.
Z raises his eyebrows. “That’s a nice tip.”
Haley shrugs. “She was a nice person.”
“I’ve never been that nice of a person, have I, Hughes?” Mr. Z. asks one of his guards, who doesn’t answer. “No really, Hughes, have I been?”
“You’re a fair boss, and that’s better than nice.”
“A true diplomat,” Mr. Z says.
More like a man who wants to keep his job and his life.
Haley has a large pile. “I suppose I don’t need to take all these things. But some of them don’t belong to me, and I’d like to give them back.”
Z reaches down and picks up one of Emily’s shirts. My sister’s entire wardrobe, even three years after college, has always been T-shirts and sweatshirts from her college and high school. Living in a couple of houses in Miami and an apartment in New York City, she just filled her closets with them. Then when she turned environmentalist, I think she felt bad about the waste and decided to adopt them as her permanent uniform.
Z drops the college shirt and picks up one of Emily’s Pine Green Academy shirts. “Oh, I think we can find room for your friend’s things.” He smiles at Haley but doesn’t put the shirt down. Instead, he carefully folds it and rolls it up. Justthe way Emily always does. I’m staring at him?Z. It’s just a quintessential motion. A lot of people must fold their T-shirts and then roll them. “Let’s get Ms. Brewster a third box.” He motions for his guard, who radios to the tender. I want to ask him if he knows anything about my sister and dad, but I don’t want to give him that power over me. “Anything else here?” Z asks.
“Just this pile,” Haley says. She folds her arms over her chest and turns to look around the room. I don’t think she’s going to cry again, but I might. Fuck. From day one, I thought we would be rescued. Not that I think Z is rescuing us. But this place?yeah, I could just stay.
Calvin’s hovering close to Haley. And I see the way the guards are watching us all. It might be my imagination, but it feels like they’re all trying to figure out who’s with her. I pick up her suitcase and attach it to the rope, lowering it to the ground. Zane unlatches it. I could have carried it, but it was fun to use the pulley one more time.
“Right, well, I’ll see you all back on board for dinner. You’ll need to make sure your pockets are emptied. You’ll be checked for weapons and any contraband. Cell phones, knives, paper?everything in the box, please. I’ll have the stews wash your clothes and deliver them to your cabin.” He takes a few steps. “Mr. Rockwell, would you join me on the beach?”
My heart slams into my chest. This is fucking it. Haley grabs my hand and squeezes it.
“Alone,” Z says bluntly.
“Anything you want to say, you can say in front of them.” I motion to . . . to my friends?my family.
“Alone, just you and me. And Holloway standing off in the distance.”
My guard furrows his eyebrows and pushes me with the motion of his eyes.
“That’s not exactly alone.” I let Haley’s hand drop and follow Z.
“It is to me.”
