Fakers (26 page)

“Dude…”

“Time to get up and go to the job site!”
Hale kicked the bed so hard that Kyra’s teeth rattled.

“The job site is
my
house.”

“Exactly. And if you want to roll up on your
house with the entire crew watching as you climb out of my truck
and make your walk of shame inside, by all means, wait a few more
minutes.” He checked his watch. “They should be getting there in,
oh, ten minutes.”

She swore and flung the covers off her naked
body. She sprawled across the bed and started gathering up her
clothes from where they’d been tossed the night before. All the
while, Hale laughed and sipped his coffee as he enjoyed the
show.

By the time they reached her house, the crew
was just arriving. She was able to slink down the side alley and go
in through the back door before anyone saw her. The door to her
bedroom clicked shut just as the front door opened and the rowdy
crew piled in.

She plugged in her phone to charge. While
she waited, she took a long bath, letting the heat ease her sore
muscles. When the water had cooled, she got out and opened her
medicine cabinet. Inside, her eyes flickered to where she could
just see the tip of her blade poking out. It was a tiny thing,
meant to be used as a replacement blade for a knife she had.
Quickly, she grabbed her lotion and closed the mirrored door.

As she dried off, Kyra checked her phone.
She had a text from Stevie.

Stevie:
Visitation hours tomorrow.
Sheez. That sounds like it’s for my funeral. Anyway, come. Or
don’t. Whatever.

Kyra:
You know I’ll be there.

***

The next day, Kyra drove out to The Lodge. A
handful of cars were already parked along the circular drive, so
she parked the Jeep at the end of the line. Before she even reached
the front door, it was opened and someone in a white uniform
greeted her with a smile.

“Good morning! Welcome to The Lodge,” the
greeter said cheerfully. “Who are you here to see today?”

“That would be me.” Stevie strolled up and
examined Kyra carefully, sniffing the air like a dog. “You got
laid.”

“Uh…I’ll leave you two to it. Have a
wonderful day!” The greeter quickly darted away.

“Stevie!” Kyra hissed, looking around. Some
of the other visitors sitting in the front room with their family
or friends had looked up at Stevie’s exclamation.

She shrugged. “Was it at least good?” Kyra
shifted uncomfortably and glared at her friend. “Fine. You can tell
me in a minute. Let’s go out to the deck.”

Kyra followed Stevie down the hall. The
inside of the building was just as nice as the outside. It seemed
like every room had a massive fireplace and a huge bank of windows
overlooking the lake. The wooden walls were warm, making the entire
place smell like cedar. People talked and gathered in every room.
There was a gym and a game room. Another room was a theater, and
she heard strains of a movie as they walked past.

“This is nice, Stevie. Even better than the
website made it sound,” she said, marveling at the landscape
paintings lining the hall.

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Stevie opened the French
doors at the end of the hall and stepped out onto a large deck.

“Oh, wow,” Kyra said, taking in the view of
the lake, where people were swimming or canoeing. The air was clean
and brisk, the breeze shifting through the loose strands of her
hair as she watched people splash around in the crystal-clear
water.

“It’s like the best summer camp that I never
got to go to,” Stevie said with a snort as she sat down, reclining
in one of the chairs.

Kyra sat beside her. She studied her
friend’s face. Stevie wasn’t so pale anymore, and she’d gained some
weight. The cuts on her face were mostly healed by now. Everything
on the outside seemed okay, but Kyra couldn’t tell how Stevie
really felt through her snarky humor. “So how is it going?”

Stevie shrugged, her eyes on the activity
down at the lake. “It’s going, I guess. I was imagining more of
One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest
, but it’s actually decent
here. I like my therapist.”

“That’s good!”

“I think you would like her too,” Stevie
said, the tone of her voice changing.

Kyra’s smile slipped. “Well, as long as you
like her, that’s what matters.”

“I mean,” she said, fiddling with the hem of
her shirt now, “maybe you could talk to her too.”

“I do need to find a therapist around
here…”

Stevie looked up. “I talk about you some in
our sessions. She knows about you.” She shrugged. “Like I said,
she’s good and I like her. Maybe you would like her if you talked
to her.”

“It’s worth a shot, I guess.”

“It was just a suggestion,” she said
quickly, but any embarrassment she felt fell away as she narrowed
her eyes on Kyra. “Tell me about the sex.”

Kyra groaned and ran her hands over her
face. “It was okay, I guess,” she said, the sound muffled.

“Ah, I see.” Stevie nodded in understanding.
“He couldn’t get it up.”

“What?” Kyra jerked, mortified. She looked
around the deck. Thankfully, they were alone. “No. He could. I
mean…it was just good. It was fine. Stop asking questions!”

“How big is he?”

“That’s a question!”

Stevie sighed. “Do you know how bored I am?
All I do is talk about my feelings and how much I want to drink and
how much everyone
feels
all the time. It’s annoying as shit.
So tell me, please, before I waste away in here and go crazy, how
big is he?”

“You,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes, “are so
dramatic.”

“Have you met my parents? You should be glad
I landed on dramatic and not batshit bananas.”

“True,” Kyra said, pretending to think about
it too long. Stevie swatted at her arm until she laughed. “Fine.
He’s big.”

Stevie tapped her chin in thought. “Like
hoagie sandwich big or like hotdog bun big?”

“Um…I don’t understand the difference. Can
we talk about something else?”

“How are you feeling after sleeping with
him?”

“Exactly how much time have you spent in
therapy?” Kyra asked with a nervous laugh.

“I’m serious,” she said, meaning it. “Are
you okay?”

“I think so. Should I not be? I mean, I feel
like he should talk to me or look at me more or something. I feel
like he’s just being normal or something when this isn’t just
normal
anymore. Like we had sex and everything is different
now, but he’s just so calm about it.”

“So you want more attention from him?”

Kyra straightened off the chair. “You’re
freaking me out. You have to stop.”

“I’m just saying.” Stevie held up her hands
in surrender. “Have you watched the weather lately?”

“Oh, you mean the storm?” Kyra floundered at
the unexpected subject change.

Nodding, Stevie said, “Could you ask Hale to
put up my storm shutters? They’re in the garage. I’ll pay him when
I get back.”

“Sure thing. But do you think it’ll actually
hit us?” Kyra chewed on her lip nervously. Storms terrified
her.

“Maybe.” Stevie shrugged.

They talked for a while after that, but Kyra
couldn’t stay long. Guests were only allowed for a couple hours.
Stevie showed her out, walking her back to the front door. When
they got there, a willowy woman was saying goodbye to some other
guests. She looked up when they approached.

“Hey, Stevie,” she said, her voice bright
and crisp as the breeze around them. She smiled sweetly. “And you
must be Kyra. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Clemens.”

She reached out and shook Kyra’s hand. “Nice
to meet you,” she said politely.

“Kyra, this is the therapist I was telling
you about,” Stevie said, sounding sheepish. “Anyway, thanks for
coming to see me. I have to go so they can put me back in my
straightjacket and padded room.”

Dr. Clemens laughed. “Very funny.”

Stevie pulled Kyra into a fierce hug, which
surprised her. She was even more shocked when Stevie kissed her
cheek. “Talk to her,” she whispered. And then she left, leaving
Kyra alone with the therapist and feeling effectively maneuvered
when she turned back to the doctor.

“So, uh, Stevie said she enjoys your
sessions with her.”

Dr. Clemens’s smile broadened. “Stevie is a
good person. She has a smart head on her shoulders.”

“Oh, she’s smart all right,” Kyra said,
grinning.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you too long.
Here’s my card in case you would like to contact me about anything.
I do more than just addiction counseling.”

Kyra took the card the doctor offered her.
She wondered how much Stevie had told Dr. Clemens about her. “Um,
thanks,” she said, swallowing to alleviate the dryness in her
mouth. “I’ll be in touch soon. I, uh, recently moved, so I haven’t
had time to talk with anyone lately.”

“Understandable,” Dr. Clemens said, still
smiling. Her face was warm and inviting. The perfume she wore
reminded Kyra of fresh linens flapping in a summer breeze. “But you
don’t want to wait too long.”

“Right. Well, I better get going.” Kyra
stepped outside and pulled on her sunglasses. Therapists had always
made her nervous.

“Kyra?”

She turned and looked back at the doctor,
who stood framed in the doorway. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for getting Stevie help. I don’t
think she would’ve come if it weren’t for you.”

“She’s a smart woman, like you said. I’m
sure she would’ve figured it out,” Kyra said, shrugging. From the
entrance, she could hear people calling and splashing in the lake.
The front drive was empty except for her Jeep.

“That might be true, but sometimes we need
to take the advice of others because we can get in our own way.”
Before Kyra could comment on the double meaning, Dr. Clemens waved.
“Have a safe drive.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She hurried down the
stairs to her car. She didn’t breathe again until she was inside
and the music was loud enough to drown out any sounds from outside
the car. As she pulled away, she looked in the rearview mirror. Dr.
Clemens was gone, and The Lodge stood gleaming in the sun as she
drove on.

twenty-six

L
ike this?”

Kyra rocked back on her heels and wiped the
sweat off her brow with the back of her gloved hand. A bug buzzed
beside her ear, and the air was heavy with the pollen-laden
fragrance of blooming flowers. Annabelle sat on the garden bench
wearing a big straw hat while she supervised Kyra.

“Make the water basin a little deeper. It’ll
help hold in the water to keep the roots moist,” Annabelle advised.
Kyra pressed on the dirt more, forming a deeper bowl around the
newly transplanted flower bush.

“I’m happy you stopped by today,” Annabelle
said, sitting back and sipping her water.

Kyra flushed. “I still feel bad for just
barging in on you. I probably should have called first.”

“Oh, bah. You never have to call ahead to
visit me.” Annabelle flapped her hand at Kyra. “Now the compost.
Just sprinkle it evenly over the top and add some mulch.”

Kyra pulled over the bag of compost. The
dirt was fine and loamy, slipping through her fingers like sand.
She breathed in the rich, healthy smell of it. Just then, Kyra
remembered the storm Stevie had mentioned earlier. “What about the
storm?” she asked. “Will this plant survive if it gets bad?”

“It will if it’s strong, and you’ve given it
a good start,” Annabelle said with a smile. “We all have to weather
storms in our lives.”

“That’s for sure.” Kyra poured out some
compost as she thought about Stevie.

“Hale mentioned you were visiting your
friend today. Do you miss her?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kyra said, focusing on the
compost. “I visited, but I think I miss her more than she misses
me.” She laughed. “Stevie would get along fine no matter where she
was.”

“She sounds like she’s a strong girl
then.”

“She’s overcome a lot,” Kyra agreed. She set
the compost bag aside and scooped out some mulch from the
wheelbarrow beside her. The breeze cooled the sweaty tendrils of
loose hair at her neck. “I’ll be glad when she’s back home
though.”

Annabelle nodded thoughtfully. “It does a
soul good to be where it belongs. Do you feel like you belong on
Canaan?” Annabelle suddenly laughed, the sound bright and crisp in
the humid air. “See? I ask too many questions.”

Kyra smiled up at the woman. “I don’t mind
at all.” Peeling the gardening gloves off her hands, she
straightened off the ground and set in the vintage metal chair
across from Annabelle. “And to answer your question, I do think I
belong. Or at least I hope I do, but my grandmother seems to have
other ideas.”

“Ah, Florence.” Annabelle’s eyes clouded
over as if she was lost in thoughts. “I remember when your mother
was little. I used to see her and Florence in town. Your
grandmother was so happy then, so free. A lot like you, maybe.”
Kyra cringed at the words, which made Annabelle smile kindly. “She
didn’t always used to be this way, you know. But now…well, now I
think she hides a world of hurt behind her icy demeanor. She
doesn’t want anyone to see the cracks running through her.”

Faker, Kyra thought. Florence was a faker
too. She hated it, but she could understand that part of Florence
that Annabelle spoke kindly of. Kyra hid behind smiles and
laughter, while her grandmother used cruelty and condescension to
keep people at a distance.

“Maybe you’re right,” Kyra said, murmuring
the words as she picked out the stray dirt from under her
fingernails.

“Well! On to lighter subjects,” Annabelle
piped up. Just then, Nancy brought out a tray of sweet tea and
fruit. The ice in the glasses clinked together. “Thank you, Nancy.
Would you like to stay out here and visit with Kyra for a bit?”