Lola's View
I ran toward the phone, trying to call 911, but Enzo grabbed my wrist. "Wait! Look at the shot again!"
I looked closer at the picture of my burning building. Something was off. The position was wrong. The fire looked too beautiful, too staged. "It's fake," Enzo said, zooming in. "Look at the shadows. This is fake. Vanessa's trying to scare you."
I called my landlord anyway, my hands shaky. He answered on the first ring. "Mr. Peterson, is the building okay? Is there a fire?" "Fire? What are you talking about? Everything's fine here. Why?"
Relief flooded through me so fast I almost fell. "Nothing. Never mind. Thank you."
I hung up and sank to the ground. "She's playing with us. Making us panic." "It's working," Enzo said sadly. He showed me his phone. "I just got a message saying my apartment is being robbed. I'm thinking that's fake too." "How long is she going to keep doing this?" "Until we give her what she wants." "Which is what? Money? Revenge? What does she actually want?"
Before Enzo could answer, a fair worker approached us. "Excuse me, are you Enzo Marchesi?" "Yes." "I need you to come with me, sir. There's been a complaint made against you for disturbing the peace. Festival policy forces us to relocate you to a different camping area." "Relocate me? To where?"
The worker looked awkward. "Well, that's the trouble. The event is full. Every spot is taken. We don't have anywhere to put you." "So what am I going to do? Sleep in my car?" "No cars are allowed in the camping areas due to the dust storm." The worker shifted nervously. "Unless you have a friend who'll let you share their space, you'll have to leave the event entirely." "But you just said no one can leave because of the dust storm!" "That's true. So you'll need to find somewhere to stay here." The worker walked away quickly before Enzo could argue more.
We stared at each other. "This is Vanessa," I said. "She made the complaint to get you kicked out of your camping spot." "Of course she did." Enzo ran his hand through his hair, annoyed. "She's trying to make this as miserable as possible."
I knew what I had to do. I hated it, but I didn't have a choice. "You can stay in my tent," I said quietly. "What? No. I can't. You don't have anywhere else to go. And despite everything, we're on the same side here. Vanessa wants us to fight each other. I'm not giving her that pleasure."
Enzo looked at me for a long moment. "Are you sure?" "No. But I'm doing it anyway." I stood up and brushed dust off my jeans. "Come on. But we're setting ground rules."
We walked back to my tent in silence. It looked even smaller now that I knew we'd both be sleeping in it. "Okay, rules," I said, trying to sound strong. "Number one: You sleep on that side, I sleep on this side. We put all the bags and goods between us as a barrier." "Agreed." "Number two: No talking about feelings or our fake marriage or anything personal. We're just two people sharing space until the dust storm ends." "Fine with me." "Number three: No walking around naked or in your underwear or anything weird like that."
Enzo raised an eyebrow. "Were you going to walk around in your underwear?" "No! I'm just saying we keep this professional." "Professional tent-sharing. Got it." He was trying not to smile. "This isn't funny!" "I know. I'm sorry." He held up his hands. "You're right. Professional. Respectful. Completely platonic." "Exactly."
We spent the next twenty minutes rearranging the tent, building a wall of bags and goods down the middle. It looked silly, but it made me feel better. "There," I said. "Perfect. Two separate spaces." "Very separate," Enzo agreed. "I can barely even see you over this mountain of stuff."
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: How nice. Enjoy your sleepover. - V "She's watching us," I whispered, looking around. "How is she watching us?"
Enzo checked his phone and cursed. "She posted another video. Someone filmed us building the fence. It's already got fifty thousand views."
I grabbed his phone and watched. The video showed us awkwardly arranging bags, arguing about where to put things. The description read: A married couple can't stand to be near each other. This is the saddest honeymoon ever.
The comments were brutal. "Just get divorced already!" "This is so pathetic." "She's obviously just using him for money."
I threw the phone back to Enzo. "I can't do this anymore. I can't have people judging every single thing I do." "Then don't read the comments." "Easy for you to say! You're used to being famous. I'm just a nobody who planned birthday parties, and now millions of people think I'm a gold-digging kidnapper!" "You're a nobody." Enzo's voice was sharp. "And anyone who actually watches that tape from last night knows the truth. We connected. We fell for each other. Everything else is just noise." "Well, the noise is really loud!"
We stared at each other across the barrier of bags. "New rule," Enzo said. "No yelling." "You're yelling right now!" "So are you!"
We both stopped, realizing how silly we sounded. "This is going to be a very long three days," I muttered. "Agreed."
As the sun set, the tent got darker and somehow smaller. I could hear Enzo breathing on the other side of the barrier. Could hear him moving around, trying to get comfortable. "Can I ask you something?" he said quietly. "That varies. Is it personal?" "Kind of." "Then no. Rule number two, remember?" "Right. Sorry."
Silence. "What did you want to ask?" I said finally, because the silence was worse than talking. "Do you regret it? Last night?"
I thought about lying. About saying yes, it was the biggest mistake of my life.
But I was so tired of lies. "No," I whispered. "I don't regret it. That night was the first time in five years I felt happy. I felt seen. Even if it all fell apart, I don't regret having that moment." "Me neither," Enzo said softly.
More quiet. But this time it felt different. Less awkward. Almost comfortable. "Can I ask you something now?" I said. "Fair is fair." "Why did you really come to Burning Man? You said you needed to escape, but from what?"
He was quiet for so long, I thought he wouldn't answer.
"From being alone," he finally said. "I have thousands of workers, hundreds of business associates, people around me all the time. But I don't have any real friends. No one who actually knows me. I came here hoping to feel less lonely, even if just for a weekend." "Did it work?" "Yeah. It did. Until I woke up and everything went wrong." "Not everything," I said. "We found out the truth about my father. We know Vanessa's behind all this. We're not totally lost." "We're pretty lost, Lola." "But we're lost together. That counts for something."
I heard him shift closer to the barrier. "Are you always this optimistic?" "No. Usually, I'm unhappy and cynical. You're a bad influence."
He laughed, and the sound made my chest feel warm. "I'm going to try to sleep," I said. "Tomorrow, we figure out how to fight back against Vanessa." "Sounds like a plan."
I closed my eyes, listening to the fair sounds outside. Music is playing somewhere far away. People are happy and talking. A whole world of people having fun while my life fell apart.
But somehow, with Enzo on the other side of the barrier, it didn't feel quite as bad.
I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to someone yelling.
Not just someone. Multiple people. Right outside our tent. "Fire! Fire! Everyone get out!"
I bolted upright, my heart racing. Smoke was seeping in through the tent fabric. "Enzo!" I shouted. "Wake up!"
He was already awake, grabbing his phone. "The whole camping area is on fire. We need to go. Now!"
We rushed out of the tent and into chaos. People were running everywhere. Real fires were spreading through the desert brush between tents. The wind was making it worse, pushing the fire faster. "This way!" Enzo grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the escape area.
We ran with the crowd, smoke burning my lungs. Behind us, I heard tents begin to catch fire. Someone was crying. Someone else was screaming for help.
Festival security was trying to control the crowd, sending everyone toward the main road. "Is everyone okay?" a security guard yelled. "Anyone hurt?" "I think everyone got out," someone answered.
We made it to the escape zone, coughing and gasping. I looked back at the sleeping area. At least twenty tents were burning now, including mine.
Everything I'd brought was gone. My clothes, my laptop, my phone charger. All of it. "This was her," I said, my voice shaking. "Vanessa did this. The fake fire picture was a warning. She wanted us to ignore the next one."
Enzo's face was dark with rage. "She could have killed people. This isn't just payback anymore. This is attempted murder."
An event organizer approached us with a clipboard. "We're doing a headcount. Can I get your names?" "Lola Marlowe and Enzo Marchesi," I said.
The woman's eyes widened. "Wait, you're the couple from the news. The kidnapping thing." "There was no theft," Enzo said tiredly. "Right, well, I need to tell you that we've received multiple requests from media outlets asking to interview you about the fire. They're saying," she checked her clipboard, "that sources claim you started the fire as a PR stunt." "What?" I nearly screamed. "We were sleeping! We almost died!" "I'm just telling you what they're saying, ma'am."
Enzo's phone rang. He answered it, his face getting paler with every second. "Are you sure?" he said into the phone. "And there's proof?"
He hung up and looked at me. "That was Marcus. The fire department found accelerant. Someone purposely started this fire." "We know. Vanessa." "No." His voice was hollow. "They found a gas can with fingerprints on it. The fingerprints match someone in the system." "Whose?" "Your father's."
The world turned sideways. "No," I whispered. "He wouldn't. He couldn't."
Enzo showed me his phone. There was a picture of my father being arrested, his hands in cuffs. "He admitted," Enzo said quietly. "He told cops that Vanessa paid him to start the fire. She wanted to destroy any proof we might have had in the tents. But he also said," Enzo swallowed hard. "He also said he hoped you were inside when it burned."
My own father. The man who raised me. Who I'd given everything for.
He'd tried to kill me. "Lola, I'm so sorry." "Don't." I stepped back from him, my whole body shaking. "Don't say you're sorry. Don't say anything." "Where are you going?" "I don't know. Away. Anywhere." "You can't go alone. It's not safe." "I don't care about safety!" I shouted. "My father just tried to kill me! My place is gone! My business is destroyed! My whole life is in ruins! What does it matter if I'm safe?"
Enzo reached for me, but I backed away. "Lola, please."
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Everyone screamed and dropped to the ground.
I felt Enzo hit me, covering my body with his. My ears were ringing. "Is anyone hit?" a security guard shouted. "I don't think so!"
Another shot. This one is closer. "There!" someone screamed. "On the hill! Someone's shooting at us!"
I looked up and saw a figure on a hill above us. Even from this distance, I could make out long dark hair.
Vanessa.
She raised the gun again, and this time I saw exactly where she was pointing.
Straight at me.