Page 85 of Phantom
I blanch and my face grows clammy. It never occurred to me that Rand would be looking for me, but should I feelguiltyabout it? He’s not my keeper.
“Look, I’m fine now. I’ve been taking it easy the past couple of days. Sol took care of me—”
I try to tug my arm away, but his grip doesn’t give.
“What is he to you, Scarlett? Sol Bordeaux? I heard that you were with him,” he sneers and I recoil at the disgusted look warring with the concern on his face.
“That’s not really your business. Now, please. Let me go—”
He drops my forearm, as if he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. “Do you evenknowwho you’re getting in bed with? The monster he is? You’re such a good girl, Scarlett. I’d hate to see you get corrupted by someone like him.”
I’m not a good girl.
Sol claims to know the darkest parts of me and I’ve been too afraid to ask what he’s referring to. My true darkness has nothing to do with my disorder, and everything to do with the night my father was murdered. Or rather, what I did right after. If my childhood friend knew the type of rage I was capable of, he’d never call me a “good girl” again.
“He’s not a monster,” I say instead, whispering roughly as I step back. “And who I getin bedwith doesn’t involve you. It never has.”
It’s a low blow, but it does the trick. He stumbles back, obviously shocked at my defense. But there’s an underlying frustration that narrows his eyes.
“Really? You don’t know anything about him. For starters, you should ask him about therealreason why I have to visit my brother’s grave. After that, maybe ask him what happened last year, when one of my men went missing after completing a simple job. Oh, and don’t forget about asking him what I found in my garden yesterday.” He seems to grow green at the memory and shakes his head. “He’ssick, Scarlett. Hell, if you need more evidence, you could even ask your so-called best friend—”
“Wait, Jaime?” My heart thunders as my suspicions rear their ugly head. “What does he have to do with all of this?”
“Or,” Rand continues without answering me, obviously on a roll with his accusations. “Just ask Sol about thetouristhe beat up for no reason last night. Look—”
Before I can back away, Rand has my forearm in his unrelenting grip again. My head is reeling, so I don’t even try to get free, and just wait while he thumbs through his phone until he lands on a news article.
“Rand, what’re you doing—”
“Look.” He shoves the phone in my face and I have to blink past the sun to see the screen.
A closeup of what looks to be a very hungover tourist is front and center with a towel around his neck and an ice pack lifted to his face. There on his forehead, clear as day, is an imprint of a skull. The headline above says,Tourist attacked by Phantom… or Hurricane?, obviously suggesting that the tourist was crazy drunk and just injured himself.
“This was last night?” I ask, unsure what to think.
In the past, I would’ve believed the potent hurricane drink had been the culprit. Now… I can’t deny that the cut looks eerily similar to Sol’s ring. But when would he have gone? It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that he cuddled me all night, but I keep it to myself.
“Yes. That skull is hiscalling card.And the proof is there in the picture. Ask him about it. And if he doesn’t tell you the truth… well, you’ll know he doesn’t think you’re good enough to be trusted.”
I school my expression to hide all my uncertainty. Sol’s only been good to me, and I just promised myself I would stop questioning him. And this morning, Iknowhe was more vulnerable with me than he’s ever been with anyone. I could tell. On top of all that, he’s been honest with everything I’ve confronted him about so far.
Our conversation about justice flashes across my brain. It was right before he explained his relationship with Madam G. Rand was wrong about that, could he be wrong now? Or did the tourist have what was coming to him?
“…I’ve made sure they deserve it. That’s the Phantom’s—”
“—moral code…”
I bite the inside of my cheek while my heart races. “Why are you telling me all of this, Rand?”
He sighs, his shoulders sagging as he removes his hand from my arm. But his soft palm holds mine before I realize he’s even reached for it.
“For a little over a year, I’ve been working to come back and finish what my father and brother started. To bring more jobs to New Orleans and make this city as great as it used to be. Finding out you’re still here, even after your father died, was a bonus. But, Lettie, Sol and his brotherhateme and my family, for no reason. Have you wondered why Sol is interested in you all of a sudden? I told them we were childhood sweethearts. What if he’s trying to get back at me by taking you from me? I’d hoped we could pick up where we left off…”
With all my many questions, Rand’s theory is revealing uncertainties I didn’t realize I had. But at the rest of his statement, my head is shaking before he even finishes.
“Rand, there’s no ‘picking up where we left off.’ Where we left off was me at fourteen, and you in college. We were… whatever we had… it was never appropriate—”
“Well, now you’re twenty-two and you have the same age difference with Sol. What’s the big deal?”
