“Catch up to what!?” I groan, stroking my forehead in exasperation. “Everyone is acting like my role is so important in whatever is going on. But I don’t know anything. And no one seems to want to tell me anything.”
“Be patient,” he insists with a frustrated huff. “I said this meeting will help with all of that.”
“Can you at least tell me who you’re taking me to meet with?” I ask earnestly, but he shakes his head in silence.
I press my head to the window in exhaustion, trying to push down the nervousness bubbling in my gut. I wrack my brain for what Malcolm Henderson and I could possibly have to talk about on this little road trip, since he seems intent on not discussing any of the things I need to know.
“I guess the Elites did all of that?” He nods toward the bruises I had been fidgeting with just moments ago.
Well, I guess that solves the issue of what we should talk about. But it’s also not a very fun topic of conversation.
“You say ‘the Elites’ like you’re not one of them,” I grumble resentfully, remembering Lily’s little chart of hierarchy that featured Malcolm and his family prominently.
“I’m not,” he states bluntly. “We’re tolerated by the Elites. More so than someone like you that’s blacklisted, but definitely not regarded warmly. My family’s fortune was built from the ground up in more recent generations. We can’t touch the old money of the Elites. But they work with us so long as we provide them with something profitable.”
“And what is it that your family provides for them?” I ask curiously, secretly delighting in a conversation with someone that doesn’t involve beating or shouting. But of course, it still has to revolve around the great and mighty Elites. That seems to be all my life is about anymore.
“We own a software company that services the Jameson Automobile Corporation,” he explains. “Open the glovebox.” I pull the compartment open, grabbing a brochure that he motions to. “That tells you about our company.”
I nod in a sort of stunned silence as I flip through. The ties to Jameson Automobiles really are endless. It’s like the whole town is just one giant web with that one company smack dab in the middle. You either work for them, are controlled by them or hated by them. There doesn’t seem to be any other way to fit into this elaborate social circle.
Something resting beneath where the brochure just was catches my eye. It’s a strip of photos from the booth at the mall, featuring Malcolm making a series of funny faces. He must be a few years younger in them. But then I notice the face next to his in the photos that causes my hand to shoot out and snatch the strip up to take a closer look.
“What the fuck,” I whisper, thumbing over the second figure in the photos. “Is this Emmett!?”
“Yeah. That feels like ages ago,”
he answers dismissively, shaking his head.
“You and Emmett are friends? I never see you together at school,” I study the pictures more closely, taken aback by how happy and carefree Emmett looks. A side to him I have yet to see.
“Used to be,” he replies with a tinge of sadness. “When we were younger, our parents didn’t care if we were friends or if we hung out. My family has money after all, and that’s all they care about. But his dad and my dad had a falling out. And then as we got older, it became less socially acceptable for us to be seen together as much.”
“A falling out about what?” I ask, knowing it’s a reach, and am met with another quiet shake of his head.
“Their businesses,” he grunts, brushing a finger to his nose. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Asshole,” I grumble disdainfully, tossing the strip back into the glovebox and slamming it shut.
“It’s not his fault,” Malcolm shoots back sharply.
“What the fuck do you mean it’s not his fault!?” I shriek with more emotion than I mean to. “Don’t tell me you’re brainwashed by them too. Everyone’s so afraid of them they just go along with their bullshit and let them get away with whatever they want. Treating everyone like shit.”
“I’m not saying the Elites aren’t capable of horrible things,” he defends. “You don’t have to tell me. I grew up with them. Vivian, Bernadette, Trey, Vincent…they’re no good. But Emmett’s always been a little different. That’s why we were buddies. He’s not like the others.”
“Maybe he wasn’t,” I answer lowly in disdain, tugging at my shoulder. “But he had no problem writing you off when he got older. And some time after that, he became a monster just like the rest of them.”
“He hurts you?” Malcolm asks, his face slightly twisted.
“They all do.”
He shakes his head, turning briefly to the driver’s side window with his lips pursed before refocusing on the road. “That’s not like him. I know it’s going to be hard to convince you…but anything he’s doing is just out of fear. He didn’t ask to be born into that fucked up family of his. He’s just as much of a pawn as the rest of us.”
I stare at him as he drives, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. Doubt. Anything that tells me he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But he’s filled with resolve. Completely confident that Emmett is somehow different than his flock of abusers.
My head flings back against my seat. I can’t handle this right now. The last thing I need is another gnawing voice in my ear trying to convince me that Emmett’s behavior is excusable.
I’ve watched him dump trash on Lily’s head. He manhandled me in front of his asshole Elite friends. He’s verbally abused me. Humiliated me. Threatened me. Not to mention whatever he planned to do with me with that rope and gloves before we crashed his car. The list goes on and on.