The excursion, p.14
The Excursion, page 14
Amanda takes delicate bites of her salad, pulling the lettuce off her fork with her red lips, her polished nails shimmering beneath the chandelier, her eyes playing with Randall’s attention. He sits at her side. She always gets what she wants. She didn’t only come here to find out about me, about my troubled teen years. Maybe it’s the disappointing food, or the fact that I’m suddenly starving, but I’m feeling raw toward her. It’s not fair. She didn’t come here to reunite as much as she came to rub her perfect life in my face.
Cam stands by the french doors, staring out the windows. He can’t possibly see anything out there. He didn’t come here to reunite with us either. He appears to be reliving some memory triggered by staring outside, but there can’t be much to see. Snow covers the trees. Ice covers the lake. The boathouse below is buried and smothered in darkness. I wonder if the sounds I heard are still happening. Hmmph may. Before dinner, I almost snuck outside to listen but thought better of it.
I’ll get my chance.
Randall was so suspicious, repeatedly asking Jacob and me if we had gone to the boathouse, I didn’t dare make a move. His story about keeping a top secret project in there is bogus. If it was top secret, why would he even mention it?
“Oh.” Amanda eyes my steak. “You got one of the bad ones.”
I turn my fork, and charcoal chunks fall onto my plate. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
It’s true. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we sat down. Steak, spaghetti. Salad. Not salad, actually. More like a pile of lettuce and one ripped-apart tomato. Barry didn’t have a knife to chop the salad with. In fact, we don’t even have steak knives.
“Cam,” Barry says. “Are you going to join us?”
The burlap curtains hang motionless on each side of Cam as he stares into the darkness.
“Cam? Did you hear me?” Barry puts his fork down. “Is it still snowing out there?”
“I’m not sure,” Cam replies. “I think so.”
“It doesn’t matter”—Barry directs his attention at Randall—“we’re still going on the hunt, right?”
Randall dabs his mouth with his napkin. “Yes. Nothing will stop the hunt.”
"What are you hunting, anyway?” I ask. “A polar bear? A snow owl? Won’t all the animals be hiding from the blizzard?”
“The blizzard? Oh, no.” Kennedy raises her wine glass, guiding it toward her lips. “Won’t that be dangerous? I don’t want my Barry to get buried.” She sips her wine, and a maroon bead dribbles down her chin. “He’s my ride.”
“Danger is part of the experience.” Randall folds his napkin and places it on his lap. “And no, we’re not hunting polar bears or owls. We have plenty of native prey for tomorrow’s excursion.”
“What kind of native prey?” I press.
Fire flashes in Randall eyes, but no one else seems to notice.
“Nothing is going to stop the hunt,” he says. He’s obviously not going to answer me, so I stop asking. It’s not worth it. Tomorrow, the blizzard will subside, they’ll go on their hunt, and then they’ll leave. It feels like I’m giving up, but if I bide my time, I’ll get my chance to find out what’s in the boathouse. I only hope I can wait.
Cam approaches the table. Sits down. “Can someone pass the wine?”
Kennedy reaches for the bottle but misses.
Barry hands the Merlot to Cam.
I wonder how many glasses Kennedy’s had and whether this is normal for her.
“Thank you.” Cam fills his wine glass, and Randall scoots his glass toward the bottle.
Cam fills Randall’s glass.
“Amanda, when did you and Cam arrive?” I ask.
“Not long before you. A couple of hours, I suppose.”
“Did you have a chance to look around outside?”
“No. Why?”
“Just curious. When I was looking for Jacob, I heard some strange noises down by the lake. I wondered if you had seen anything.”
Randall stabs his salad with a fork. “I arrived yesterday and walked the grounds as always. I heard nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What about your company’s top secret project?” I ask. “Is it noisy?”
“Project? Oh, in the boathouse?” He laughs. “No, it’s not noisy, but I’m curious. What exactly did you hear?”
Not so fast. I’m the one asking the questions now. He’s trying to turn the tables on me.
Kennedy takes another sip of wine.
Amanda uses her fork and fingers to tear off a piece of steak.
Cam shifts in his seat when our eyes meet. “What about you?” I ask. “Did you go down by the lake? By the boathouse?”
He averts his eyes. “I’m going into the woods tomorrow. I have no reason to go to the boathouse.”
“Correct,” Randall says. “The boathouse is off limits.” He sounds like my dad. “In fact, no one has any reason to leave the cabin.”
“What if we do?” Cam asks.
“If you leave and go to the boathouse, you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement, like I already said.”
“And, if we don’t sign it?” Amanda tilts her head.
“How should I put this . . .” He places his frying pan hands on the table. Looks in my direction. “Then you’ll become acquainted with my organization’s law team. We take our trade secrets very seriously.”
The burnt part tastes better than the raw, but I can’t eat much more steak. Too black. Too rough. The spaghetti’s not much better. Over-boiled and slimy, it slides off my fork before I can get it into my mouth.
“Why the interest in my project, Charly? Are you sure you didn’t see something? Do you need to sign an NDA?” He refers to the agreement the way a priest opens the door to a confessional. Sitting there, all smug—he’s the one hiding something. “How about your brother? Did he see something?”
His devilish beard masks his dimples. He’s laughing at us on the inside. Jacob might be right. Some people might be evil, and if so, this man leads the list. The feelings I’m getting now . . . I see nothing but evil. Signing his NDA would be like signing my soul over to the devil. I lean forward. “I already told you. We didn’t go to the boathouse.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, but I’m planning on going there later. Jacob doesn’t do well in groups, so I thought we’d spend the night down there.”
“Is that why he didn’t come down for dinner?” Cam asks.
“Yes.”
Randall’s neck has turned beet red.
“Is the boathouse heated?” I ask.
Randall tightens his grip on his fork. “You cannot go there, and no, it is not heated.” He stands. “Trust me, if the project were not top secret, I’d have asked everyone to sign the NDA and given a tour, but that’s not the case. Signing the NDA is a last resort if someone accidentally happens to wander inside the boathouse.” He leans forward. Puts both hands on the table. “From this moment on, no one goes near there. Understand?”
Everyone nods except me. He’s running a scam. He said his company takes people on hunting adventures, but he’s acting like he works for the CIA. Without a doubt, he’s lying, and someone—or something—is trapped in the boathouse. No matter what I say at this table, he’s not going to come clean.
“Miss Highsmith,” he says. “Do you understand?”
I nod.
Amanda gazes up at him with a smirk on her lips.
Cam stands. Picks up his plate. “I’m finished.”
“Me, too,” I say. “But, I need to take some food to Jacob.”
Barry looks at Kennedy. “I guess we should clean the table.”
“Oh, yes.” She slides off her seat and stands with the help of the table. The wine bottle is empty. “Anyone want more wine? I’m getting another bottle.”
“Haven’t you had enough?” Barry asks.
It’s my parents all over again. Arguing about alcohol in the cabin.
Cam returns from the kitchen and sits down. “Oh, I should have brought the wine. Sorry. Can you get me some?” He turns. Glances at the french doors. “We’re snowbound for now. There’s nothing to do but drink.”
I scoop the last of the spaghetti onto a plate and add some salad to it. “I’ll be right back.”
When Jacob sleeps, he sleeps deep. He never admits this, always complaining he is fatigued from being woken up, but I’ve seen him sleep through some major disturbances. Still, I tip-toe into the bedroom and put his plate on the nightstand. Puffy snowflakes fall outside his window. A draft seeps through the panes.
Randall said the boathouse has no heat.
I head back to the dining room.
At the bottom of the stairs, I see Amanda slip into the basement. She closes the door behind her. I didn’t think she’d be sleeping down there. With all her flirting, I thought she’d already convinced Randall to give her the upstairs master suite.
Cam sits at the dining table with Kennedy.
Both their wine glasses are full.
Kennedy slouches with her elbows on the table.
“Wait a minute,” Cam says. “You saw a carving knife when you came in, but then it was gone?”
“I don’t know.” She slurs her words. Waves her hand in the air. “Barry said he saw it.”
Something slams in the kitchen.
It sounds like Barry is trying to do the dishes by himself.
“You didn’t see it, did you?” she asks.
Cam sits up straight. “No.” He takes a drink of his wine. “I’m not into knives.” He sees me standing at the bottom of the stairs.
I quickly cross the room as if I never stopped moving. “Where’s Randall?”
“I think he’s in the basement,” Kennedy says.
“Yeah, he went down there right after you went upstairs.” Cam swallows more wine and makes a sour face.
“I’m tired.” Kennedy drains her glass and puts it down. She glances at me, and her eyes begin to close. “Did you take a knife out of the kitchen?”
“No.”
“What?” Barry shouts from the kitchen.
“Nothing.” Kennedy rests her head on the table. Lowers her voice. “I don’t know why I came here with him. He thinks he’s some big tough hunter guy, but he acts like a child most of the time.”
“How about Amanda,” I say. “Have you seen her?”
Kennedy lifts her head. “I think she’s in the basement.”
Cam looks around. “She is?”
I don’t say anything. Amanda batted her eyes at Randall all evening, then snuck into the basement behind him. She’s up to something. She wants the master bedroom, but it’s more than that. I shouldn’t judge her, but it’s hard when my competitive streak keeps flaring up. I’d hoped things had changed since we were kids. Softened. I’d hoped this reunion would be us laughing at the crazy things we did when we were young, but her actions and her holier-than-thou attitude—I feel like I’m being thrust into playing my father’s game all over again. Consumed by my desire to win.
This feeling isn’t fair to her or me. We’ve all changed, but nonetheless, I’ve got to know what she’s up to. What are they doing down there?
Kennedy stands. Sways. “Why don’t you like her?”
“What?” I ask.
“Why don’t you like Amanda? There’s so much friction between you two.”
“That’s not true.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hate each other.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”
Cam heads for the kitchen. “I’m getting more wine. It’s going to be a long night.”
Kennedy puts her hand on her belly. “I’ve got to go to bed.”
“I don’t hate Amanda.”
She stumbles toward the stairs. “Like, whatever you say. I just don’t want to be around when you two get into it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RANDALL
The note reads, Meet me in the basement after dinner for a night you won’t forget.
Amanda slipped the note into Randall’s hand right before they sat down to dinner. She wants to give herself to him, and it’s no surprise. He is the ultimate male specimen, after all, but he doesn’t have time for fun.
Barry’s hunt is tomorrow.
It will go as planned.
Amanda stands in the dimly lit hall by the basement bathroom, her legs begging him to lift her skirt and enter her like a lion. But he can’t. He dare not. The others sit at the dining table upstairs, chatting their worthless heads off.
Barry’s hunt is tomorrow.
Barry’s hunt is a stepping stone toward destiny. Toward taking over Zaroff Excursions.
Randall will evolve.
He will take over. He will lift the organization. Improve the processes. The infrastructure. He’ll take each location to a new level, starting with this cabin and its rundown basement. His wealthy clients will love him for the renovations, and word will spread. He will replace the basement’s lighting. The two bedrooms and the bathroom, obviously done on a budget, with their white walls, hollow brown doors, cheap brass doorknobs—he will replace everything.
He strokes his beard. The Scotch he drank earlier eased his headache, and though not a drinker, he wants more. It’s going to be a long night. He pretends not to notice the curves of Amanda’s breasts behind her blouse. He raises the note. “Why did you give me this?”
“So you’d meet me in private, silly.”
“What did you mean by ‘a night you won’t forget?’”
“Oh, that was just to get you down here. Wait. You didn’t think I wanted to”—she averts her eyes, attempts to hold back a grin, and fails—“you didn’t think I was hitting on you, did you?”
“Of course I did. Why else would you give me this? What do you want?”
“I want you to take me on an excursion. I want to go hunting with you.”
“Sorry, but I cannot help you. It’s not the kind of hunt you think.”
She steps forward. “Oh, it is.” She puts her hand on his chest. “You see, I’m an accomplished hunter. Tomorrow wouldn’t be my first rodeo.”
He pushes her hand away. Ignores the swelling in his groin.
She smiles like a demon.
He needs to either rest or have another shot of Scotch. “I will not be taking you with us. You and the others need to go to bed.”
“I can pay the fee. It’s not an issue. In fact, given the short notice, I’ll add ten percent as a bonus for you.”
“Absolutely not. You don’t know what you’re demanding.”
“I know what’s in the boathouse.” She titters. “You’re funny. An NDA . . . ha! There isn’t an NDA that could protect your company from that sort of thing. False imprisonment isn’t a trade secret.”
“Shh.” He grabs her arm and pulls her into the bathroom. Shuts the door.
“Hey,” she shouts.
He swings her toward the shower.
She spins around. Rubs her elbow. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Shh. The others might hear you. Be quiet.”
“No. Not unless you take me with you tomorrow.”
“How do you know what’s in the boathouse?”
“Like I said, tomorrow wouldn’t be my first rodeo.”
“You’ve commissioned an excursion with us before?”
“Yes. You see, I have a primordial need to be a hunter. A true hunter. I want to be the best version of myself. Feel the power. When it comes to life, I want to win.”
She knows the sales pitch, but she can’t possibly know what’s in the boathouse except—she listened when he questioned Miss Highsmith. She has gone on an excursion before. She’s presumptive and aggressive and confident. Solid, the way a woman ought to be. “I cannot take you.”
“I’ll pay you twenty percent above the fee. Under the table. You can keep it for yourself.”
“I don’t have the resources for two hunts tomorrow.”
“Take me on Barry’s hunt. I don’t mind sharing.”
“It doesn’t work that way. If this isn’t your first rodeo, then you know the rules. You know each hunt is an individualized experience.”
“Can’t you make an exception?”
“No. There are consequences for breaking the rules. Do you realize you broke the rules by inviting me down here?”
“How so?”
“If you’ll recall, after an excursion, you’re to never speak of it again. If you wish to try again, you must contact our office. I’m assuming you failed or you wouldn’t be so eager.”
“I didn’t fail.” Her cheeks redden. “We were distracted. The guide misled me, and we ran out of time.”
“I doubt that, but it doesn’t matter. I cannot take two people hunting on a single trip. You’ll need to contact the office and schedule your own hunt. I am pleased you wish to retain our services again, but I cannot help you.”
She brushes her hair back. Raises her chin. She shows courage, inviting Randall into the basement to be with her all alone. If it weren’t for the others upstairs, he’d end her now. It’s a shame, really. He could use the extra money, but it’s a short-term opportunity at best. She’s not wealthy. Not old-money wealthy, like Barry. She most likely does not have old-money connections. Barry is the real deal. He’s the future of Zaroff Excursions.
She’s a woman.
And she broke the rules. There are consequences.
She’s as good as dead.
“Please, take me on an excursion,” she implores. “I’ll sign anything your little business wants. I won’t break the rules again.”
Little business, she says. Conducting excursions in over eleven countries worldwide is not a little business. “I don’t know who led your excursion, but I’m guessing he was new. I’m not. I’m one rung from the CEO, and”—Randall puts his palms together—“do you know what the CEO did the last time someone broke the rules? The last time someone threatened to expose us?”
The smile leaves her lips. She shakes her head.
