CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A HOT MESS
Pacing across her porch, Melody thought of those windup dogs she’d seen on display on tables in the mall. They’d yap, walk, sit, turn, and walk some more. Then they would bash into the side rail and fall on their hind legs. With a mini hop they’d return to all fours, ready to yap, walk, sit, and turn all over again. Like her, they moved but never got anywhere.
Where was she supposed to go? Should she waste her time tracking a fictitious monster? Figure out how to get that video off Bekka’s iPhone? Bribe Haylee? Confide in Candace? Search for Jackson? Move back to Beverly Hills? She was ready for action. She just didn’t know which action to take.
Sneakers slapping on pavement caught her attention. A slim figure was running up the street toward her.
“Melody!” he called.
“Jackson?”
She raced for him, propelled by the strength of a thousand regrets.
“I’m so sorry!” She threw her arms around him, right there in the middle of Radcliffe Way. “I never should have let you leave without me. I was confused. I had to make a choice. And I chose you. I did. I mean, I have. But now…”
Melody released her grip. His hair smelled like sweat and ammonia. “Where have you been?”
“Jackson!” Ms. J ran from the cottage in her robe. “Thank heaven you’re okay.”
Melody peered down the dark street, no longer capable of facing Ms. J. In just forty-seven hours, her son would be exposed as a “monster,” and it would be Melody’s fault. So much for her word; it had a shorter shelf life than sashimi.
“Hey, Mom.” Jackson hugged her. “I’m fine.”
“Thank you!” She grabbed Melody’s face between her hands and kissed her forehead. “Thank you for finding him.”
Melody forced a smile and then lowered her eyes.
“Come inside.” Ms. J tugged her son’s arm. “Do you know how dangerous it is for you to be wandering around tonight?”
“Mom, I’m hanging out with Melody. I’m not wandering around.”
“At least get out of the road,” she said.
Jackson promised he would be home soon. Then he took Melody’s hand and walked her home.
“When did you and my mother become such good friends?” he asked.
Melody responded with a distant smile. “Maybe you should, you know, go home,” she said as they climbed the porch steps.
“Why?” Jackson knit his brows. “Who’s the split personality here, me or you?”
“What happened to ‘I chose you’ and ‘I shouldn’t have let you leave’?” He sat on the swing and began rocking playfully.
“Jackson.” She gently pushed the back of the swing. “There’s a lot going on that I can’t tell you about and—”
“Oh, and it’s worse than everything you know about me?”
He had a point.
The wind, still blowing in starts and stops, rustled the leaves and then drew them back into silence. It sounded as if they were trying to explain but didn’t know how. Melody understood their frustration.
“Something really terrible happened, and it’s my fault.”
He stared across the street and sighed. “Deuce.”
“No!” she snapped, slightly offended.
His shoulders relaxed.
“What is it, then?”
Melody swallowed a deep breath of courage but still couldn’t speak. What if he left her? She’d have no one. But how could she not tell him? He’d find out in forty-seven hours anyway.…
She sat beside him.
“Um, so you know that…” She swallowed more courage.
“What?”
“That video of you turning into… you-know-who?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…” She took one more deep breath and then…
“BekkafounditonmyphoneandisthreateningtogopublicwithitunlessIfindthepretendgreenmonsterwhomadeoutwithBrett.” She squeezed her eyes tight, as if bracing for a slap.
But Jackson didn’t lift a finger. He didn’t jump to his feet and begin pacing. He didn’t grab his head with both hands and scream “Whyyyyy meeee?” at the starless sky. He just sat there. Rocking back and forth, quietly contemplating the predicament.
“Say something.”
He turned to face her. “I know where she is.”
Melody smacked his kneecap. “Come on, this is serious.”
“I am serious,” he insisted.
“So she’s… real?”
“Very.”
“How do you know her?”
“D.J. kind of led me there.” He smirked. “I think he likes her.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No. This can’t be happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening.” Jackson chuckled, because what else could he do?
Melody stood and began pacing. Was she still on her father’s operating table having some kind of anesthesia dream?
“So, technically, you have a girlfriend?”
“I’m not sure if they’ve had the talk yet, but she seemed pretty into him.”
“Okay.” Melody cooled. “I guess this is good, right? You can take me there. I can find out her deal and then give her up to Bekka.”
“No, you can’t,” Jackson said.
“Why not?”
“Because D.J. likes her. I can’t do that to him… or me, or whoever.… He’s kind of like my brother, I guess.”
“What about what this is going to do to you? And your mom? And us?” Melody’s voice quaked. “If Bekka shows this video to the police, they’ll think you’re a monster. They could arrest you… or make you leave Salem.”
“I can’t, Melly,” he said softly. “She was sweet.”
Jackson’s willingness to martyr himself for this… thing made Melody like him even more. He had character. Heart. Conviction. He obviously valued romance and relationships. And he was a much better kisser than Scarbucks. Melody didn’t have to date a Candace-number of guys to know that those qualities were hard to find. Which was why she intended to do everything possible to save him, even if one of those things was a tad amoral.
“I understand,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll figure something else out.”
He sighed, smiling. “Thanks.”
“Hey,” Melody said enthusiastically, “so I have another way we can get that video back. It’s in my room. Wanna see?”
“Definitely.” Jackson stood. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Melody up the uneven wooden steps to her bedroom.
“Shhhhhh,” she said with a finger to her lips. “Everyone’s sleeping.” She shut the door behind them.
“Now, where are my notes?” She poked around the boxes.
“Notes?” Jackson shuffled from one foot to the other uncomfortably.
“I know I hid them in here somewhere. I can’t keep anything lying around with Candace on the loose. She’s so nosy.”
“Hey, do you mind if I plug in the fan?” Jackson asked, ducking under her loft bed.
“Why? Is the heat getting to you?”
“A little.”
“I think it’s in Candace’s room.”
“No, it’s right here.” He aimed the plug for the socket.
“Stop!” Melody leaped toward him and yanked it away. “I like it warm.”
“It’s not warm—it’s stifling,” he said, then studied her for a moment. Suddenly he gasped. “No. Forget it! You can’t do this to me. It’s wrong!” He reached for the cord, but Melody pulled it away.
His forehead was starting to bead.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“This isn’t the right way.” He wiped his brow.
“It’s the only way!”
Remembering the ThermaFoil, she pulled the lavender duvet off her bed and threw it over his head.
Just a few more seconds…
“Melody, stop!” He punched the blanket, but Melody hugged it in place.
“You’ll thank me.”
“You’re going to suffocate me!”
“I’m going to save you!”
He stopped struggling.
“Jackson?”
He didn’t make a sound.
“Jackson?”
Silence.
“Jackson? Oh my god, please don’t be dead!” She whipped off the blanket.
His glasses were off. His hair was wet. His cheeks were flushed.
“You again?” he asked.
“Hey, D.J.,” Melody said, beaming. “Wanna go see Firecracker?”