Stick to the Plan

Ch.12: Secrets Unfold🎸

"Please tell me it's not true," I said, taking my hands from my eyes so I could look at Morgan. Her expression was again unreadable. It scared me.

"It's true."

My heart shattered. I could feel it.

"But... why?" I asked desperately, tears welling in my eyes. I wanted to believe that she was perfect. The perfect person for me. But it wasn't so, and I guess you could say it was my fault for assuming and being so naive.

"I had to. My boss told me that if I didn't she would kill and replace me with someone who would. I had no other choice." Morgan sat next to me.

"There's always a choice," I said, wiping at my tears.

"Not in this case. The kid I killed, he was only sixteen. But he started selling in my territory. So boss said take him out by any means necessary. I went to his spot, and I...." She tapered off, "I brought a gun; a .44 Magnum. I shot him in the head."

I gasped audibly.

"I didn't know who to go to. I'd never... killed anyone before. So I went to my best friend at the time. Of course you know who that is. He cleaned me up, gave me a place to sleep for the night, because I couldn't face my mom. I couldn't look her in the eye. So that night I decided I was gonna leave the game. I was gonna quit it all; selling, shooting, everything. But Parker... didn't let me quit. He said he needed those drugs, and that's when the blackmail began." Morgan sighed.

And then she burst into sobs.

I held her in my lap, feeling her sides heave with the intensity of her cries. I just sat there and held her and held her. It was all I could do. Hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay and that it wasn't her fault.

"It sh-should've b-been me!" She wailed. My own tears were sliding down my face at this.

"Absolutely not. Don't say that. You deserve to be here. You have so much to offer this world. You're smart, you're capable, caring. We are not our worst acts. Remember that," I reassured her, rubbing her arms.

"Emery?" She sniffled, burrowing her face into my shirt.

"Yes, darling?" I asked, smoothing her hair back from her face. It was wet with tears.

"Why are you so good to me? I'm not a good person. I don't deserve you," she choked out.

"No one is a good person or a bad person. We just do good and bad things. It's what's in our heart that matters, and I think you have a beautiful heart. You just got caught up in the wrong jazz, that's all," I was still smoothing her hair back from her face, and now I found one brown eye looking up at me.

"His name was John. Johnathan, but they called him Little Johnny on the street. He loved cars. He had a drop top Mercedes that he'd ride around in. Moving to LA was a mistake for him. A deadly mistake. He should've just stayed in Detroit, where he's originally from. Oh, and he loved to read. He loved his mom as well, and I took him away from that. I sent his mom flowers anonymously. It was the least I could do." Morgan wiped at her tears, sitting up and leaning her head on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't think I blame you for this," I said, putting my arm around her shoulder.

"I really hope not," Morgan replied, getting herself together.

I was enjoying her head on my shoulder when she got up suddenly, grabbing her primary phone and studying it.

"I bet you're hungry. Do you want some food? I can order it, and there's water in the fridge," she told me out of the blue.

And just like that, she was back to her old self.

I really did need to go home, but I couldn't just leave her here like this. She was in despair, I could see that. She needed my company.

So I stayed, and I'm glad I did.

We ordered burgers from this restaurant that had free delivery. I of course got lettuce, tomato and mayo on mine, and it reminded me of the burger I had at Santa Monica, the first one Morgan bought me.

I saw a completely different side of her that day versus today. I didn't see a killer. Well, I never saw a killer, even after she told me. I saw someone broken by the world, someone who made the wrong choices due to survival. It was like she said. She's been trying to survive probably since she was born, and it sure wasn't easy.

I wanted to know about her childhood. Her upbringing and her home life. I wanted to know everything about her. She was an enigma to me, and one that I wanted desperately to figure out.

But I guess for now I knew enough, and whatever she wanted to reveal to me about her life would come with time and patience.

I just didn't know if I had enough of either.

We finished eating and decided to watch Call Me By Your Name; a film that we both adored. We sat cuddled in each other's arms, and I couldn't remember a time when I felt more content. Never with Stacey or any of the other girls I've ever been with.

"If I didn't like the name Holden so much I would've named my dog Elio," Morgan said, pulling me into her. I had my head resting on her chest.

"Why didn't you?" I asked, curious. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love both names, but Elio seems cool." I stroked her strong arm with my fingertips.

"Because I relate more to Holden. He wants to hold onto his childhood for as long as he can. He doesn't wanna cross over, doesn't want to jump off that precipice. That was me, and it always has been, but I've had to give up so many things in order to live, including my childhood." She sighed unhappily, and I was afraid she was going to cry again, but she didn't. "Wasn't like it that was good to begin with anyway. But there were some good moments."

"Like?" I encouraged. Anything to talk about something joyful. Anything to bring up the mood a bit.

"Like playing in the kiddie pool in the backyard with my brothers. Or watching cartoons early Saturday morning. Or... anything with them really. We had a good life. That is, until my mom fucked it all up," Morgan grumbled. She sat up even further to show me something on her left wrist, something I'd never noticed before.

It was a tattoo of a small black widow spider. I could see the red hour glass symbol on its body.

"What does that mean?" I was full of questions tonight.

"It's the gang I'm in..." Morgan said, sounding ashamed. "My mother gave it to me when I was twelve years old. I had to grow up fast. I had to ditch my old life behind," Morgan lamented. It made me want to hold her again.

So I did.

"You are going to be okay. I can feel it," I said, holding her and trying to transfer so much love into her body, just like when we had sex earlier. It was calming compared to her episode before.

Inevitably, after I continually whispered reassuring things in her ear while stroking her hair, her back, her arms, she fell asleep like that. I put the covers around us, grabbing my phone to text my mom that I would be spending the night with a friend.

When I went to do this, however, I saw a notification on my phone that I didn't believe. A DM on Instagram, from Columbia Records, one of the most prolific record companies in LA or even the country.

I checked to make sure it was the official account. It was.

The DM went like this,

Good afternoon from Columbia Records. I couldn't help but notice your recent post of that beautiful song, and I would love to chat with you further about it. We think that whoever played the song has great potential with us, and we would not hesitate to sign her if she is willing. We could give her the space, equipment and musical training she needs to be a star. Please let me know what she thinks about this offer. Best of wishes and have a wonderful evening.

My jaw dropped to the floor, and I had trouble picking it back up again.