The Liberator

9 Charlie’s New Dress

Cocking my head, I realize the booming sound is someone knocking on my hotel door. But I don’t care about that. All I see is Charlie’s name lit up on my phone display. Racing across the room, I grab my cell and accept the call.

“What’s up?” I try to come off as chill, but instead sound like someone crotch-kicked me. “I’ve been calling.”

Smooth, ass clown, I think. Real smooth.

I’m new to this whole caring thing. I quickly realize that I’m not that good at it, that I’ve kind of skipped over affection and jumped right into Lifetime-movie-stalker.

“Heeeey, Mr. Walker,” she sings.

One hundred percent drunk. That’s Charlie. I know because I’m sober. How is this happening?

Some persistent bastard keeps knocking on my door, so I cross the distance and swing it open. A woman stands on the other side, her face Bloody Mary–red. She points a finger the size of a cornhusk in my face. “You need to be quiet,” she hisses.

“Oh-kay,” I snap back. Then I slam the door before she can add anything else and go sit on the overturned mattress. “Charlie,” I say into the phone, “are you all right?”

She laughs. “I’m doing real good. Annabelle and I went to a Christmas party.”

I have no idea why, but I get a sinking sensation in my stomach. “Oh, yeah? Have fun?” is what I actually say, but what I really want to ask her is, “Why are you going out? Shouldn’t you be missing me? Also, since when did you start liking parties? Thought you preferred movies at home and shit?” Because honestly, it was always me dragging her to parties, so what changed?

“I did. It was so much fun,” Charlie purrs. “How’s the assignment going? What’s Aspen like? Is she…is she pretty?”

I’m relieved that she seems concerned about Aspen. I guess even someone like Charlie can get jealous, because even though she’s absolutely stunning now, sometimes she forgets to see herself that way. And sometimes I miss the old Charlie’s quirky beauty.

I’m about to reassure her that my eyes are only for her when a voice rings in the background—Annabelle, I think. “Did you tell him how you almost killed yourself?”

I leap to my feet. “What’s she talking about?”

“Nothing,” Charlie responds, her mouth too close to the receiver. “At the party we were seeing who could hold our breath the longest underwater. And guess what? Guess what happened?”

“You won?” I say. I can picture her smiling face in my mind, so it’s hard for me to be upset. But I don’t like the idea of Charlie playing let’s-almost-drown-ourselves while intoxicated. And what the hell were they even doing swimming in December?

“Yep,” she says. “And he said I couldn’t.”

I swear on all that is red and bacon-y, if she says Max is the one who challenged her, I’ll tear out his scrotum. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“This guy, my new neighbor. The party was at his house.”

My blood freezes in my veins. “Charlie, what’s this dude’s name?”

She pauses on the other end of the line, and I’m just about to start throwing things again. But I remember Man Hands knocked on my door and asked me to be quiet, so I don’t.

“His name is Salem.”

The desk chair flies into the wall with a loud clatter. So much for restraint. I glance at the door and expect to hear the beefy woman knocking again, but the sound doesn’t come.

“Charlie, that guy’s brother was the one who was creeping outside your window,” I say as evenly as I can.

“Yeah, Easton.” She announces this like we’re discussing Tupperware. “Look, Salem told me all about your run-in. He said to tell you he was really sorry about what happened. He kept asking me where you were. Said he wished you could’ve been there so he could show you his brother is a good person.” Charlie grows quiet, and I can tell she’s biting her nails. “They’re really cool, Dante. When you get back here, I bet the three of you will be friends.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near those guys,” I say through clenched teeth. It’s all I can manage, because now I’m remembering the way Salem looked at me with challenge in his eyes. And now he’s getting Charlie drunk and telling her to hold her breath underwater and playing Nice Guy. Well, I’m calling him on what he is—a sleazer.

“Okay, first, they really are nice people.” Charlie’s voice gets louder. “And third, I do what I want.”

I don’t tell her that she actually only named two things, not three. And I don’t jump on a plane to Alabama and tie her to the bed like I’d like to (for numerous reasons). Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and say, “I know. It’s just those guys—”

“Those guys were hanging out with Max all night. He liked them. He said so.”

This actually does cause me to hesitate. Because I trust Max, I really do. And if he was around those dudes and didn’t sense anything off about them, then maybe I actually am looking for danger in the wrong places. Maybe I need to concentrate on the collector who was in my room tonight instead of the fact that two guys invited Charlie to a party.

One of which I caught staring up at her window.

Okay, okay. I hold my hand up like I’m negotiating with myself. I’m letting this go.

“You look so hot,” Annabelle slurs in the background. “Can’t believe you actually wore it.”

It’s the freaking Fourth of July in my head right now, explosions detonating left and right. But I bite my lip and remain calm. “You get a new outfit or something?”

“He can hear everything you’re saying,” Charlie tells Annabelle.

“Good. Everything I say is magical,” Annabelle responds. “Can he hear me when I say, ‘Screw Bobby!’?”

Charlie laughs before returning to our conversation. I can almost taste blood by the time she answers me. “Bobby was kissing another girl tonight. He and Anna are over.” Her voice goes from sad to excited in the space of a breath. “And yeah! I went shopping. Got a new dress.”

“—that’d fit an American Girl doll.” Annabelle howls with laughter.

“I bet you look hot,” I say. And it’s the truth. I can picture her now, all legs and hips and big, innocent eyes. I bet she looks like Little Red Riding Hood, attracting all kinds of wolves.

“I look pretty good,” she slurs.

“Try amazing,” Annabelle interjects.

“Amazing,” Charlie says, “I look amazing. And you look beautiful, Annabelle. Bobby’s an idiot.”

I adore her confident words, even if I know they add up to a lie. She’s never been comfortable with her appearance, and I can’t think of anything that would’ve made that change.

Briefly, I think about mentioning the collector who was in my room but decide against it. I don’t want to scare her, and I know Valery and Max have her safety covered. For now, the best thing to do would probably be to get off the phone and call it a night. Then maybe call her again in the morning when I know she’s sober. But even as I think this, I know it’ll be hard to get off the phone. I know Charlie, which means I know she’ll want to keep talking until the sun comes up.

Charlie yawns through the phone. “Hey, I better run. Got to get some shut-eye before school tomorrow.”

My mouth drops open. She’s got to run? Trying to maintain what pride I have left, I recover quickly and say, “Yeah, I’m pretty beat, too.” And then, because my heart starts to race at the thought that she’s actually about to hang up, I add, “Hey, how many days you got left before winter break?”

I already know the answer to this question, and Charlie pauses like she knows I know. “Just this week. Then it’s Play Day every day.”

“Play Day, huh?” I say. “I don’t like the sound of that one bit.”

Charlie laughs lightly. “Good night, Dante.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Good night, angel. Tell Annabelle I’m sorry about Bobby. Guy’s a douche.”

“Wait,” Charlie says, as if I were about to hang up the phone, which I wasn’t. “You know I miss you, right?”

Rubbing a hand over my face, I grin. “That’s good to hear. I miss you, too.”

Charlie hangs up, and I sit with the phone pressed to my head for several seconds before leaning back on the naked mattress. Thoughts of Salem and Easton try to wiggle their way into my mind, but I shove them aside and think of Charlie.

Gripping the ivory horn in my fist, I concentrate on the feel of her lying in her bed. I think of the way she looks when she laughs, and the way her skin smells. And with a knot in my chest, I think of how tonight she sounded like someone else entirely.

Despite the surge of anxiety I felt earlier, I cling to Valery’s assurance that for now, all is well.

My eyes slip closed, and I fall into a deep sleep.