Chapter 3 San Francisco

Maryann

I managed to convince my family that I was still recovering from last night’s headache. Waking up early to pack and the rush to San Francisco had drained me, so they’d let me stay back in my room.

I could hear their voices down the hallway as they discussed plans for my brother’s birthday. Our rented camp house had rooms designed like tents, with a sitting room at the center.

I had been so excited about this trip—being the one who suggested it—but right now, I wanted to disappear from everyone.

“Christopher and Letty, make sure Maryann doesn’t leave your side. This family cannot afford to taint our image,” my mother said sharply, her voice cutting through the air.

My heart momentarily stopped, and my stomach turned at her words.

“Come on, Mum. You know that’s not Maryann’s character,” Christopher protested. I could picture my mother’s nonchalant look as he spoke.

“After what your mother told me, I don’t trust her anymore,” my father added. His voice was calm but carried a certain weight. “There are going to be lots of people we don’t know, and we can’t risk anything.”

Their words stung. It was always about their image. Sometimes I wondered if they even cared about us—or just what we represented.

“I know Maryann to be a good girl. Don’t worry, I’ll watch over her,” Peterson offered, his voice steady and reassuring.

My heart danced at his words, even as I tried to suppress the surge of emotions they caused. Despite everything, he had a way of making me feel safe.

I heard footsteps approaching and quickly shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“Quit pretending, Anne. I know you’re awake,” Letty said, smacking my thigh lightly.

“Letty, I’m sleeping,” I groaned, rolling over.

“There’s a party at the beach, and we’re going,” she whispered, her breath tickling my ear.

“You heard what Mum said,” I mumbled, cracking one eye open.

“So long as you’re with me and Christopher, you’re safe,” Letty said, winking. “Get dressed.”

Thirty minutes later, I stood outside on the cool sand, wrapping my arms around myself against the breeze from the palm trees. Letty and I had dressed in skimpy bodycon dresses, and I could feel eyes on me, a mix of curiosity and admiration.

The beach was alive with music and lights. People danced with drinks in their hands, their laughter carried by the wind. Everyone seemed free, immersed in the moment. But I felt like an outsider, a spectator trying to blend in.

“Come on, get into the vibe!” Letty yelled over the music, handing me a drink.

“What is this?” I asked, taking a cautious sip.

“Just drink,” she replied, her smile mischievous.

The drink was sweet, like fruit, and deceptively strong. I grinned, taking another sip.

“Ready to enjoy the night, my friend?” Letty asked with a wink.

Before I could respond, she grabbed my hand, dragging me onto the crowded dance floor. In the blink of an eye, my cup was empty.

“Maryann!” Letty teased, laughing as she poured some of her drink into my cup.

I shrugged, raising the cup in mock celebration before taking another sip. Soon, the music coursed through me, and my body began to move.

“This is so much fun!” I yelled, laughing.

“Welcome to adulthood 101!” Letty shouted back, twirling.

“Go Maryann! I never knew you had moves,” Christopher called out, joining us.

“You just never saw me dance,” I teased, bending low and shaking my hips, drawing whistles and laughter from the crowd.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Christopher said, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t want too many eyes on my sister.”

“Oh, let her have fun, babe,” Letty scolded, pulling him into a kiss.

As they became wrapped up in each other, I suddenly felt out of place. My gaze wandered, searching for someone—though I hated admitting it to myself, I was looking for Peterson.

“Where’s Uncle Peterson?” I asked, clearing my throat.

Christopher barely glanced at me. “Probably somewhere,” he said absently, his attention locked on Letty.

Feeling lonelier than ever, I turned and headed for the bar.

“I want the drink with the red and yellow mix,” I told the bartender.

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sex on the Beach?”

I blinked, feeling my cheeks flush. “Uh, yeah. That’s the one,” I muttered.

He slid the drink across the counter with a grin. “First time?”

“Maybe,” I replied coyly, taking a sip.

“You know, your voice sounds like sex,” I said, my tongue loosened by the alcohol.

The bartender leaned closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious tone. “You’d only know for sure if you stayed after my shift.”

I grinned mischievously, leaning in just as close. “Tempting offer.”

Suddenly, a low, familiar voice cut through the moment. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk to her again.”

I jumped, choking on my drink. Peterson stood behind me, his eyes blazing.

“Why do you keep showing up wherever I am?” I demanded, my voice trembling between anger and something else.

The bartender smirked, unbothered by the interruption. “Relax, man. She’s having fun. Let her chill.”

Peterson didn’t respond. His sharp glare was enough to make the bartender take a step back. Without warning, Peterson grabbed my arm and swung me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” I screamed, pounding my fists against his back.

Ignoring my protests, he carried me away from the crowd, his stride unrelenting. Embarrassed, I buried my face against him, hoping no one was recording this scene.