Page 22 of You Were Warned: Part One

That’s something we can both agree on.

“Did you want to get a coffee?” He smiles at me with his painted grin, and against all reasonable judgment, I find myself saying yes.

As we walk toward the bar, behind us the three backdrops laugh, and the sound is exactly what I expected from people like them. I will never admit this out loud, but the imbecile walking beside me may have just moved up from the most annoying person on the island.

“They’re not going to last,” I say quietly as we walk. The sound of the bells grinds on my last nerve, making me want to rip them from his body and shove them up his ass, but I reconsider when I realize he would probably enjoy it.

“Probably.” The Jester holds the bar door open. “Or maybe they’ll surprise you.”

“They won’t.”

He follows me inside, bells chiming, and I go straight to the coffeepot. After I pour myself a cup, I make my way to the barstools, and the Jester sits beside me.

“Still, it’s good to have new people here,” he says. How can he turn everything into something positive?

“Who for?”

“Everyone. The island needs fresh faces.”

I turn and look at him to see if he is serious. “If you say so.”

Rue comes out of the kitchen, clocks us both, but doesn’t say anything about the Jester sitting so close to me.

“The usual?” he asks.

“Please.”

Rue goes back into the kitchen, and when I finish my coffee, the Jester gets up to make me a new one. I lean against the bar, and after he returns, I watch him pick up the menu as if he has not eaten here every day and doesn’t know what is served.

“Something is going on with you,” I say to the Jester. I can’t put my finger on it, but something seems off about him.

“A friend has an issue I’m trying to help them with, and it’s a moral dilemma.”

“How so?” I ask, finding myself curious about what type of moral dilemma a man who kept Valli’s brother locked in a cell for the damn Scarecrow could have.

He turns to me. “Let’s just say my friend was supposed to snuff the life out of someone, but that someone tried to do it first. He saved him, and now he doesn’t know if there is a point in finishing the job after all the trouble.”

After thinking it over, I decide there are two reasonable solutions. “There are two options to consider: would killing them be more enjoyable, or is it more important to figure out why they saved this person? Dead is dead.”

“Torturing people is art—it is musical.”

“Okay, so is your friend”—I say “friend” in air quotes—“just pissed his fun was disrupted?”

“I think that’s it. What other reason could there be? They have no remorse over killing, and you’re right, death is death. You’re so smart, my love.”

And just when I thought we might have had a breakthrough, he goes and ruins the entire moment.

Afternoons on the island are more hectic as daytime guests leave, and we reset for the night. Thankfully, the Jester leaves me to eat in peace, saying he has somewhere he needs to be. It makes me suspicious because he never voluntarily leaves me be when he has found me, but for the last few weeks he has been acting weird. While I love the break, I low-key want to know what he is up to.

When the backdrops walk into the bar, I stand; one dose of them today is enough. I tell Rue I will catch him later, and once he calls out bye, I head back to my house. The extra time will let me get myself ready for tonight without having to rush.

The maze is mine for three hours. Cipher and Nails have added some extra mechanical scares, and the entire vibe is amazing. I love scaring people to within an inch of their lives. Though I can’t say I was happy to see the backdrops lurking in my zone, I enjoyed following them and making them scream. Apparently, they are not as confident in the dark.

The Jester didn’t make an appearance tonight, which surprised me. Normally, he is so far up my ass I can’t breathe. By the time my shift ends, I head straight home. I plan to text Rue and see if he wants to blow off some steam; I have a lot of pent-up energy, and I need him buried deep inside me.

When I get closer to my house, I spot a man sitting on my front porch. His back is against the house, and his legs are sprawled out in front of him.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snap, walking closer.