Fakers (6 page)

Of course, she was too young to remember the
slight, but it still stung when she thought about it. She’d been
lucky, though. Her life with Aunt Carol and Uncle Tom had been as
good a childhood as any, but she would never forgive Florence for
disowning her mother and doing the same to her.

She shoved the door open, sending the chimes
squealing, and headed out into the fresh air. She jogged to her
bike and plopped her purchases into the basket. She peddled faster
than necessary, but feeling the exertion in her muscles and the
breeze in her hair helped calm her. Once she was out of town, she
slowed and let herself take a deep breath.

There was a little fact about Kyra that she
never told anyone. Long after Florence and Garlan Aberdeen had
disowned their daughter for her insatiable use of drugs, Kyra’s
mother had been busted for felony possession of drugs with the
intent to sell. She was pregnant at the time, which no one knew.
Nine months later, Kyra had been born in prison. It was in prison
that Lila Aberdeen had killed herself. Kyra had no memories of
her.

“Come on, Kyra,” she muttered to herself.
Let the bad thoughts go, she thought. She stood up on her pedals
and pushed the bike faster. The street was empty, so she closed her
eyes and let her head fall back, the breeze playing through her
hair. This place was her home now, and she would belong here. A
laugh already formed in her throat, and a smile stretched across
her lips.

She looked back to the road just in time to
see the large black truck backing out of the alley next to her
house. She squeezed the brakes on her bike before she collided into
the metal. The truck screeched to a stop, but it was too late.

She catapulted over the handlebars and hit
the asphalt.

five

K
yra vaguely heard
a car door open and then hurried, heavy steps. A shadow stretched
over her, blocking the sun. “Are you fucking crazy?”

She groaned, her breath knocked out of her.
She knew that voice. It took a special hatefulness to be mean to
the person you almost turned into a greasy spot on the road.

Cracking an eye at Hale, she confirmed his
grumpy expression and promptly closed her eye. “What the hell are
you thinking, riding that fast down this street? Were you even
watching where you were going?”

“My eyes…” Kyra sucked in a breath. “Were
closed.”

“Oh, that’s even better,” he spat.

Her breath slowly returned, and she opened
her eyes, blinking into the sun beaming around Hale’s tall
silhouette. After struggling to sit up without his help, she
examined her legs. Both knees were torn to bloody shreds, as were
her elbows and palms. She fingered her chin, which was unscathed.
Once she confirmed that she hadn’t broken anything, she let her
anger loose.

She was done being nice to Hale Cooper. He
didn’t deserve it if he couldn’t even be nice to the person he
almost killed. Thoughts of making Cade happy slipped to the far
reaches of her mind, and she channeled all her inner hatefulness
and glared at Hale.

“I’m fine,” she said, pleased that she
sounded just as nasty as he did. “So thanks for asking,
asshole.”

He scrunched up his nose like he smelled
something disgusting. As if it burned his soul to do so, he stuck
out his hand, offering to help her up. Kyra smacked it away before
she stood up on her own, grimacing as the scraped skin stretched
across her battered knee.

“I’m
fucking
fine.” Her voice rose;
she never cursed. Furious tears from out of nowhere threatened to
spill. “I don’t need your
fucking
help. And the next time
you
fucking
swear at me and call me crazy, I’ll punch your
fucking
nose.”

Just then she caught sight of the crumpled
box of cookies. The lemonade had busted and spilled across the
road. So much for making Hale’s crew like her. She groaned and
picked up the box.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. You just scared me is
all,” Hale said, his voice low and raspy.

Kyra turned around slowly, her eyes
narrowing. “
You
were scared?” As she shouted the words, she
practically itched with the neighbors’ eyes on her skin. She flung
the crushed box of ruined cookies at him.

Satisfyingly enough, he was so surprised
that he didn’t even deflect the box. It hit him square in the face,
spilling cookie crumbles all down his shirt. Sputtering, he looked
at her, anger resuming its normal place on his face.

“Oh, sorry,” Kyra said, smirking. “You
surprised me.”

She picked up her bike and shouldered past
him, her eye catching movement on Stevie’s porch. The redhead
leaned against the railing while she sipped a tumbler of
suspiciously dark liquid. Kyra suddenly remembered that today was
Friday, and she was supposed to have dinner tonight with Stevie.
The thought brightened her mood considerably.

“You go, girl!” Stevie called, raising her
glass to Kyra.

Hale rolled his eyes and got back in his
truck, squealing the tires on the road before he zoomed away. Kyra
waved to her neighbor. “Thanks for the support, Stevie.”

“That was awesome. Best thing that’s
happened all week.” Stevie thought for a moment. “I take that back.
It’s the best thing since old Mr. Henderson mowed his yard naked
after he took a Valium instead of his arthritis medicine.”

Kyra groaned. “Do you think everyone
saw?”

“Oh, hell yeah. Expect a notice of improper
cookie tossing to be posted on your door in the morning.” Stevie
waved her arm at the houses across the street, sloshing the liquid
over the rim. “Nothing gets past these bitches!”

Kyra laughed. “Are we still on for
tonight?”

“Definitely. I want to hear all about Hale
Cooper’s hospitality.” Kyra pushed her bike toward the front porch,
flipping Stevie off as she went. “I saw that!” Stevie called.

Kyra spent the rest of the afternoon editing
her videos. She took pride in her work, and she wanted everything
she posted to be perfect. After catching up on her emails, she
stood up and stretched. The sounds of the crew filled the house
since everyone had returned from lunch, but she had no desire to
venture downstairs.

Her knees and elbows were sore even after
she’d put some ointment on them. She sighed heavily. Hale Cooper
wasn’t just different; he was a douchebag. As much as she liked
Cade, she wasn’t going to waste any more time being nice to
Hale.

A while later, a knock sounded on her
bedroom door, surprising her. Not knowing who to expect, she opened
it and found Hale slouching on the other side. She let out a
disappointed breath.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Hale sighed, raking his hand over his
closely cropped brown hair. The motion made the gigantic muscles in
his arms bulge. His shirt lifted, exposing a stretch of skin above
his jeans and treating her to a full view of his delicious tapered,
chiseled stomach. She hadn’t noticed until now how perfect his body
was. He was built, like model built. He lowered his arm and
coughed. She looked up, her cheeks flushing.

“I’m…” He cleared his throat again. “I’m
sorry for earlier today.”

His apology was so forced and reluctant that
Kyra had to laugh, which only made his jaw clench. “You mean when
you almost killed me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah.”

“I accept your terrible apology, but watch
where you’re going next time.”

“Keep your eyes open next time,” Hale
snapped back. “Who the hell rides a bike with their eyes
closed?”

“Who the hell cusses out the person they
almost ran over right after the accident? Did you ever think an
‘are you okay’ or maybe ‘can I help you’ would’ve been a lot nicer
than calling me freaking crazy?”

“I didn’t mean you were crazy. What you were
doing was crazy,” he said, glowering.

“You’re right. That makes perfect sense.
Thanks for clarifying.” Her grip tightened on the doorknob. “You
know, you’re proving all these people right.”

She tried to slam the door closed, but he
stuck his boot out. “What does that mean?” he growled.

“All these people who think you’re an
asshole.” She made a face. “You give them good reason to.”

His eyes narrowed slowly, his nostrils
flaring in quiet rage. Before he could respond, she tried to close
the door, but he stopped her once more. “Oh, really? And what about
you? Parading around with that cheesy-ass smile plastered to your
face? You’re so fake that I’m embarrassed for you.”

She recoiled like he’d slapped her. “I’m
fake?” she sputtered. “Really? Wow. Well, have you ever thought
maybe it’s better to pretend to be happy and maybe believe it
sometimes than act like the biggest dick in the world and make
people uncomfortable in their own homes?”

“That’s what you think?”

“That’s what I know.” Kyra kicked his shin
so hard that he stumbled backwards. Taking the opportunity, she
slammed her door shut and locked it for good measure.

After a run-in with her grandmother, getting
knocked off her bike, and an argument with Hale, this day hadn’t
turned out so well. She hated confrontations; she’d rather just try
and get along with people. Sure, that meant she pretended to like
some people more than she did, but didn’t everybody? That didn’t
make her fake. That made her a person, but his comment bothered her
more than she thought it would.

She worked off the tension by answering more
emails and being extra productive. It was childish, but she waited
until Hale and his crew had left for the day before she opened her
bedroom door and went downstairs.

She found a note taped to the bottom of the
stair’s banister.

Kyra,

I’m sorry for being such a dick. I didn’t
mean to call you fake. I really am sorry for almost killing you
today. I’ll do better tomorrow.

Hale

P.S. We cut the water off before we left.
Plumbing check tomorrow.

Kyra stared at the note for a moment without
knowing what to think. She appreciated the apology, and she should
offer forgiveness. But she was still pretty riled up. She stalked
through her house for a while, feeling like she was stuck in a
warzone. The walls were mostly open, exposing all the plumbing and
electrical wires. Huge drop cloths covered the floors. Her kitchen
was a bare scab of ripped-apart walls and extra lumber. The
downstairs bathroom was the only shower she had in the house for
now, and it wasn’t even close to being in working condition.

Kyra took the note with her as she went back
upstairs. She sat it carefully beside her laptop, weighing it down
with a pretty starfish. She stripped down and went into the
bathroom. Standing above the bath nozzle and futilely spinning the
knob, she finally remembered Hale had said the water was shut
off.

“A warning would’ve been nice,” she
grumbled.

She stepped out of the shower and squirted
herself with body spray. She tried to fix her hair before she
dressed, but it was a hopeless mess. Giving up, she wrapped it up
in a messy topknot, and she didn’t even bother with makeup before
she made her way over to Stevie’s.

Stevie answered the door with a glass of
wine after Kyra knocked. “You look like I feel.”

She grimaced. “My water’s turned off and
this day has been one from Hades. How was your trip?”

Stevie wrinkled her noise. “Let’s put it
this way: People annoy me, and I was surrounded by them.”

Kyra laughed and followed Stevie inside. She
led them to the back porch again, where a chilled pitcher of green
tea and a fresh glass awaited Kyra. An assortment of takeout menus
were spread across the table.

“The old birds across the street have
already called about your fit out in the road today.” Stevie took a
sip of her wine, staring at Kyra with raised brows over the rim of
her glass.

“My fit?”

Stevie shrugged. “You did throw cookies at
the man.”

“Ugh.” Kyra rubbed her temples. She’d almost
forgotten about throwing cookies. “This has been an awful day.”

Stevie nodded knowingly. “Almost getting
creamed by a truck will do that.” When Kyra didn’t respond, she
said, “Uh-oh. What else?”

“Well…” Kyra said. “I ran into my
grandmother today at Maggie’s Bakery. That didn’t go too well. And
then I had another fight with Hale when he tried to apologize.”

“Oh!” Stevie leaned forward in her seat.
“Did he throw you down on the bed and kiss you until you apologized
for almost making him kill you?”

Kyra snorted with laughter. “Not even close.
He called me fake.”

Stevie pursed her lips, the amusement fading
from her eyes. “Now that pisses me off.”

Kyra shrugged. “I guess he’s kind of right,
but he apologized. He left me this note.” She pulled the note from
her pocket and handed it to Stevie. She watched as her friend
quickly read it.

“Hmm…”

“What does that mean?” she asked,
frowning.

“It means I don’t remember him leaving a
note for poor Mrs. Campbell when he told her he didn’t have a magic
trick for ridding her carpets of cat piss, but that she could try a
litter box.”

Kyra’s mouth dropped open. “He said
that?”

“Oh, yeah. She was fit to be tied for months
afterwards.”

“Are you trying to tell me he likes me?” she
asked, her tone sarcastic, but she felt the slightest twinge of
excitement, which was completely crazy.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Nearly committing
vehicular homicide might’ve rattled some good manners into
him.”

“It didn’t rattle hard enough,” Kyra said
under her breath.

Stevie laughed. “Enough about Hale Cooper.
Men are stupid. Let’s order burgers.”

“I’m vegan,” Kyra said.

“Bless you.” Stevie picked up a barbecue
menu.