The Bad Boy's Secret Read online

  Cassie felt her heart flutter in her chest, and then it felt like it had stopped. She gasped, putting her hand to her breast, but the air that she was suddenly lacking wouldn’t come.

  “You scared, Sas?” Chuck asked, reaching for the pizza that she had abandoned. “Hey, did you eat anything?”

  She tried to gasp again, but she couldn’t get any air. Her hands shot out, trying to get someone’s attention and spots danced in front of her eyes.

  All of sudden, the air came in a rush and she couldn’t stop breathing quickly, her heart rate speeding up as if she was on a marathon track. Her eyes flashed rapidly all around, and she broke out into a sweat.

  “Hey, what the hell?” Chuck put the pizza down, turning to her in alarm. She was making so much noise at this point, it was hard to ignore her. Richard sat up rigid, watching the situation with rapidly growing concern. “Sas? You ok? Cassie?”

  “I can’t…breathe,” she managed, taking Chuck’s outstretched hand and gasping. She doubled over as bile rose in her throat, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. She heard their voices, calling to her, pounding on her back as if she were choking, but she felt like she was floating, watching herself.

  The oxygen lack began to affect her limbs, which felt impossibly heavy and began to tingle.

  I’m going to die, Cassie thought. This is how I’m going to die, surrounded by open pizza boxes and half eaten crusts. This is it.

  All of a sudden, she felt a strong pull on her waist and her head shot backwards. The movement was enough to clear it, and she began to regain control of her breathing.

  When she was lucid enough to look around, she saw faces staring back at her, eyes wide in shock and mouths open.

  “Cassie!” It was Chuck’s chest she was leaning against, listening to the steady thump of his heart. “Are you alright?”

  Richard was hovering on her other side, the phone in his hand.

  “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

  “I don’t know man,” Chuck certainly didn’t know the right answer. “I—she seems ok now. Cassie?”

  “I’m fine,” Cassie managed, as her blurred mind began to put the pieces together. “I’m fine.”

  “What the hell was that?” Chuck asked. “Jesus, kid, you’re going to be the death of me.”

  “It’s nothing…just…it’s nothing,” she tried to sit up but he held her down.

  “Call her parents,” Chuck said, at last and Cassie shook her head.

  “They are in the Hamptons for the week.”

  “Jesus,” the boys exchanged looks.

  “You really should see a doctor, sweetie,” Richard sat down beside her. “It’s no trouble, we’ll take you.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she wanted to die of embarrassment. Everyone was staring at her, and it wasn’t the kind of attention she was used to. “Really, I’m fine. I just...got caught up in the movie.”

  “Uhhuh,” Chuck didn’t believe her for a moment. “Because you weren’t the kid who wanted to watch Robo Cop every day after school.”

  “I’m fine,” she repeated, through gritted teeth. This time, she did sit up, and he let her. “It’s just been a long day.”

  “You need some fresh air?” Chuck asked, and she nodded. He helped her up, on shaky legs, and slipped on arm around her waist as they headed for the porch.

  “Call me if you need me!” Richard called, as they shut the door.

  Outside, Cassie sunk into the porch chair, sucking breathfuls of air into her lungs. Chuck gave her a moment before he spoke.

  “So?”

  “So what?” she asked and he glared at her.

  “Four seconds to start talking, kiddo. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?”

  “It just…reminded me, of the way Scott died,” she managed at last. “The lights went out light that and all.”

  “Oh, Baby,” he crouched down beside her. “You can’t carry that with you your whole life. I know he’s gone, and it sucks, but you’re still here. And you have to keep on living.”

  “It’s just…” she looked into his face and she so much wanted to tell him the truth, tell him exactly what had happened. But her tongue caught in her throat, and the words didn’t flow. “I know.”

  “Life’s a bitch,” he said, sitting down on the porch steps. “Ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  They sat in silence for awhile, as she felt the weight lift from her chest. Eventually, after listening to the crickets, she spoke.

  “I got asked on a date today.”

  “What?” his head whirled around. “By who?”

  “Dave Herder?” she said. “He’s in my math class.”

  Chuck snorted.

  “That preppy loser? That’s what you dig?”

  She shrugged.

  “He seems really nice, is all.”

  “Yeah, you would fall for that,” Chuck replied, shaking his head. “Good. You should go with him, wherever he and the upper classers hang out. It’s a new way to the inside.”

  “Uh,” she said, carefully. “I wasn’t thinking like that. I kind of like him.”

  “Well, you can multitask, can’t you?” he asked, and she nodded, mutely. It was easier to let Chuck think she was going to do that than argue with him.

  “But Dave’s never done anything to you guys, right?”

  “No,” Chuck snorted, and reached inside his pocket for a cigarette, scooting away from her a bit. “That one, he just likes to show off. His very existence annoys me.”

  “Is there anyone you do like, Chuck?” she teased him, curling her legs up under her. He turned around and gave her a devilish grin.

  “Well, I like you just fine, kid. Except when you don’t eat dinner.”

  “Oh,” she searched for an answer in her head. “I guess I was thinking about other things. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  He reached up to knock her on the shin with his free hand.

  “This isn’t the skating life anymore. You could do well with a few more pounds on you.”

  “Yeah,” she replied, another lie tumbling from her lips. “Yea, I’ll try.”

  “Good,” he took a long drag on the cigarette and they sat in silence for awhile. “I’m glad you’re out here.”

  “Me too,” she answered, relieved to at least tell one truth in the conversation. “Me too.”

  She looked up at the stars, things that she couldn’t see in the artificially lit New York skyline. Despite it all, she really was glad she was there.

  Chapter 4

  “Richard!” Chuck screamed from across the house, catching Cassie around the waist as she hyperventilated, doubling over. These attacks scared the crap out of him, and they seem to come so randomly. Sure, he had long since figured out that there were certain triggers that should be avoided. Ice skating references, guns, and blackouts, although the second two made little sense to them. And he knew, that Cassie wasn’t going to die, that it was all in her head. Panic attacks often felt and looked like incoming death, when they weren’t really dangerous. But they still frightened him everytime they happened.

  Richard came tearing up the stairs, a spatula still in his hand. Over the past few months, he was the one who dealt with Cassie the best. His calm attitude was never shattered, and his kind demeanor never changed. The overarching patriarch figure in the house, he approached the situation as if it wasn’t a big deal, and walked away only when it was done. Chuck trusted him immensely, unable to keep his own calm and always damn near having a panic attack himself.

  “Cassie,” Richard said, as if he were speaking to her conversationally. “Darling. It’s alright, you’re safe, here and now. It’s alright.”

  It was quite time consuming, one of these attacks. They often spent the better part of an hour with her, speaking softly, such a step away from the tough
gangster exterior. She never responded until it was over, until she could breathe again, and the tears were dry. Sometimes, it took over an hour, the day slipping by. And yet, when Chuck tried to speak to her parents about it, they shrugged it off, as if it were nothing. It made him angry, beyond belief. It also upset their group dynamics. The boys, although they liked Cassie well enough, felt like they couldn’t speak freely or roughhouse as they normally did, for fear of upsetting her. They never said anything negative, but under the surface, they missed the old days.

  “Everything’s alright,” Richard said, absently, as Cassie’s breathing began to return to normal. “Everything’s fine. Captain Spatula is here.”

  She giggled at that, and the two men exchanged a smile that things were once again over.

  “What are you cooking?” Chuck asked, sniffing the air. “I’m starving.”

  “The size of your mother, you’d think your fridge at home would always be full,” Richard replied, a common joke, and both of them laughed. “Cassie? You hungry?”

  She shook her head, glancing on the clock at the wall.

  “No. I’m tired though. I kind of want to crash.”

  Richard reached into his pocket, digging out the car keys, and tossed them over her head to Chuck.

  “Well, then, Chauffer can take you home so you can rest. It’s been a long day, kid, you probably just need a nap.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded, rising on shaky legs. “Thank you. As always.”

  “Not a problem,” Richard said, helping her up. “See you later.”

  Richard may be able to dismiss the issue lightly, but Chuck couldn’t. After he dropped her home, and decided to slink into his own house, a once in a blue moon occurrence, he pulled out his laptop. Once the popular search engine came up, he typed in her name.

  Teenage Skating Pair favorites for Olympic Team.

  Cassiopeia Winters announces retirement after death of partner, Scott Parsons, 16.

  Teenage Skater Scott Parsons dead on ice.

  There were a hundred articles linked to their names. They had, after all, been the best of the best. Their wins were no surprise, scoring high above the other pairs. But what interested Chuck was not the mainstream articles he found first. Rather, it was the stories and posts that came with a lot of digging.

  “Scott did not die of natural causes,” said a skate blogger, who, as usual, was anonymous. “He lifted Cassie when the lights went out, and he dropped her when he was shot in the head.”

  “Woah,” Chuck mumbled, clicking further. The less main stream and more underground he got, the stranger the stories got.

  Mob Boss Samuel Jones makes appearance at National Figure Skating pre-trials came another headline, along with a photo. Chuck didn’t need to enlarge it to see the features of the famous face. He knew Samuel Jones well, at least by reputation. He used to run with one of the gangs that served him, bringing his cronies stuff they stole in exchange for a cut of the sales. This was the big boss, the master, and he rarely showed his face. So what the hell was he doing at a Figure Skating Championship?

  Chuck spent until sunrise typing away, pulling up more and more factors that just made him equally confused. The scores from Scott’s last skate were also confusing. He and Cassie was losing, which never happened, especially with the people they were up against. And then, in the last round, they surged ahead, completing triple axels and spins that they had spent all day messing up. It didn’t make any sense, that kind of inconsistency at a performance. He didn’t pretend to be an expert, but he had spent years staring bleary eyed at her on the ice, and listening to her babble. Something didn’t make sense. And the presence of Samuel Jones certainly didn’t help matters. There was something dirty going on, and he didn’t like it.

  When he looked out the window, and realized it was dawn, he picked up the phone, dialing the number he now knew by heart.

  “Hello?” Cassie answered, still half asleep. Her alarm was set to go off in ten minutes, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t sleep until then. She was losing some of the mannerisms of her skate days, and be able to sleep past 6am was one she wasn’t sad to see go. Besides, she was half hoping it was Dave, calling to ask her to breakfast or offer her a ride to school. She had been having a dream about him, a wonderful dream that included a picnic lunch and a movie, where they held hands the entire time.

  “Sas, we need to talk,” Chuck grunted. His heart was still beating fast, and he didn’t want to alarm her.

  “About what?” her voice went up an octave.

  “I’ll pick you up in forty five minutes. We’ll go for coffee. Just be ready.”

  “Chuck, you’re scaring me,” she replied, and he regretted his tone.

  “Don’t worry, kid, just be ready,” he said, and hung up.

  She knew that she wasn’t going to get any sleep anymore, and so she got up, throwing away the warm covers and shivering as her feet hit the bare wood floor. She had on a shirt and a sweater over baggy pajama pants but it wasn’t enough to keep her warm. Nothing was enough to keep her warm these days.

  She headed to the bathroom to take a hot shower, her reprieve from the frigid temperatures she felt. But as her clothes fell to the ground, she glanced at her naked form in the mirror.

  Her ribs showed clearly, there wasn’t one that was hidden, even on her upper chest. Her hip bones stuck out, supported by stick thin thighs, and her arms seemed like twigs. Stepping on the scale, she winced at the number. It was higher than it had been two weeks ago, by half a pound. This lack of exercise was causing her body to actually store any food she ate, and she disliked that. She needed to be thin, wanted to invisible to the world. Every once in awhile, she could still feel Scott’s strong arms around her waist, or at her ankles, as they went for a lift, a spin or a twirl. Her favorite move used to be to let him grab her by the ankles, hurling her around. She felt like she was flying. And the less she ate, the faster she could fly.

  But he would never hold her like that again, and it was her fault.

  She stepped into the shower, the waters scalding hot, although she didn’t feel it. She read that hot showers worked like steam rooms, and she was always a little bit lighter when she came out, the toxins of the day pouring out of skin. And lately, it felt like there were so many toxins and so much stress. She could have stayed in the shower all day was it not for Chuck.

  Perhaps he was coming to tell her it was too much trouble, to deal with her and her issues. Perhaps he was coming to tell her it was her fault, all of it, and he didn’t want any part of it. And then he would leave her, just like Scott did.

  By the time he got there, she was so worked up she could barely speak. But he seemed to have plenty to speak about, as he sat her down on the couch. For the first time ever, his eyes were serious, his tone even and not sarcastic. Whatever he had to say, it was important and burning a hole into his soul. In a heartbeat, looking into his eyes, she knew what he had found, and what he wanted to ask. He was close to the truth, close to her secrets.

  “Tell me, Sas,” he said, sitting beside her on the couch. “Tell me what the hell went on in New York.”

  “No,” she shook her head, closing her eyes. If she started talking, she would lose her breath again, she knew it.

  “Babe, you got to tell me,” he said, sharply. “Because I spent all night staring at the damn computer, and a lot of things don’t add up. So either you tell me or I’m going to keep digging, and we’ll both be consumed by it.”

  She glanced at him, tears in her eyes, and he tried a different approach.

  “I’m going to ask you questions, and you’re going to give me answers, ok?”

  Cassie nodded, biting her lip. Chuck may not get straight A’s in school, but she knew that this day would come. He was smart, and he wouldn’t remain in the dark forever.

  “Scott didn’t just drop dead on the ice, lifting you. Somet
hing happened, right?”

  She nodded again.

  “Did someone shoot him? In the dark?”

  There was a long pause and she felt like her head was going to explode, but again, she nodded.

  “Do you know who?”

  A head shake, and she gripped his hand.

  “Do you think it had anything to do with Jones being there?”

  At the mention of his name, Cassie took a deep breath, and he feared that he had pushed her too far.

  “Sas?” he said, carefully. He decided to try a different route. “I looked at your scores. You guys were losing, right up until the last minute, the last round. That could happen, you could have had an off day, but all of sudden, you were awesome again? I don’t think so. So what the hell happened?”

  Cassie put her head in her hands, trying to breathe.

  “Someone wanted us to lose.”

  “What?” Chuck’s jaw fell opened. “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied, timidly. “There was money involved, a bribe, to lose the competition. And we were going to. But then…Scott and I were at the guard rail, and I told him it was bullshit, that we weren’t going to throw away everything we worked for to some scumbag. We were going to do our best and whatever happened, fine. We were going to give the money back, Chuck, we were…” she felt her breath come in sharp gasps again and she buried her face in his chest. “But then it was too late. Scott was dead!”

  “Baby, baby, hush, it isn’t your fault,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s over now. You moved a thousand miles away, and you chose a different life. And you are safe here.”

  “We ran a thousand miles away,” she practically screamed at him. “We ran, away from these people who were knocking on our door at midnight, calling the house and hanging up, leaving death threats in our mailboxes. We ran, Chuck, because if we didn’t, they would have taken us out like Scott.”

  “What?” this shocked him most of all. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “And explain how my parents used the money when my Dad got downsized? And explain that we took it because we needed it, and bought things that we shouldn’t have? That we accepted bribes for weeks, for months, and invest it so we could have money again? Is that what you want? That we invested it in things that weren’t legal, black market deals so my parents could maintain their status?”