Page 39 of Jagged Line Paradise

“I asked what you’re doing here,” she says again, though her voice seems a little less forceful.

“You know why I’m here,” I tell her. “The producers have called you multiple times. Lord knows I’ve tried to get in touch with you, but you’ve made that rather difficult.” I make sure there’s a little extra bite to my tone at the end.

She crosses her arms over her chest in a classic defensive move. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? It’s my hometown.”

“How is it your hometown when you left it?”

I purse my lips, shoving my hands into my pockets and leaning toward her. “A lot of people leave their hometowns and come back to visit. It’s not my fault you decided to stay for good. You’re a regular townie now, aren’t you?”

She looks at me like she wants to clobber me, and I almost want to see her try.

“You should leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I just got here. And believe it or not, there are quite a few people relying on me to help them tell their stories, so if you don’t mind leaving us be, we have work to do.” I turn my back to her.

“You’re a damn liar.”

I spin around to face her again. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you’re a damn liar.”

“How am I a liar?”

“You’re here to make money. You’re exploiting the families of his victims so you can make bank off your stupid movie.”

“It’s a documentary, Lonnie. They’ve all signed on for it and are going to be paid well. I’m not making a profit here, they—”

She jabs her index finger in my direction. “Don’t you call me Lonnie. Nobody calls me that, not anymore.”

“Why not?” I tilt my head. “It’s cute. It fits you.”

She laughs humorlessly. “You are so condescending! And you wonder why I haven’t spoken to you in a decade. You’re an arrogant son of a—” She stops herself just shy of a cuss.

“Go on.” I lift my eyebrows. “Say it. Tell me what I am. I want to hear it come out of your mouth. Tell me that I’m an arrogant son of a bitch.”

Her expression hardens as she studies my face and I feel like I’m under a fucking microscope.

Didshe always have that look in her eyes? That deep, dark, melancholy hidden somewhere behind the olive green? What kindof darkness plagues her mind after all these years? Whateats away at her soul? What kind of poison clogsher heart? Is it all the same as mine? Andwhy in the ever-loving fuck do I suddenly wantto know?

I guess we’ve been silent for a beat too long because Brittany decides to insert herself.

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” she says, walking right up to Avalon and offering her hand. I want to slap it away and shove her off the cliff for the way she forces herself into Avalon’s space, unnerving her and making her take an uncomfortable step back. “I’m Brittany Jane. Are you...Avalon Briar?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

“Wow. I’m just,” Brittany finally pulls her hand back when she realizes Avalon has no interest in shaking it. “I’m just so honored to meet you in person. We’ve been following the Canyon Carver case for so long and your story...wow, it’s justsoinspiring.” She puts her free hand over her heart and her failed attempt at sincerity makes me want to punch her.

This may just be an interesting story to someone like Brittany Jane, someone who has never experienced true life tragedy. But for the families of the victims, for Avalon, it’s real fucking life. I’m not gonna have her pull dramatic“you’re just so inspirational”speeches with the victims’ families. And certainly not with Avalon.

I turn squarely to face Brittany. “Listen, I know you mean well, but I’m gonna have to do the interviews with the families myself if you’re gonna say bullshit like that.” I point my finger back toward Avalon. “She’s not a fucking celebrity, okay? She’s a regular person who was put through hell. She’s not an inspirational story, she’s a human being. Understood?”

Brittany’s face turns white as she pulls her head back, unconsciously leaning away from me. It’s a lean I’m familiar with.

“I amsosorry,” she apologizes. “I totally understand. I-I’ve...yes. Understood.”

“Give us a second, please.”

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