The Perfect Family

by Robyn Harding

  Pay. Or your family will pay.

  It was an outright threat. Jesus Christ. How had things taken such a dark turn?

  I looked at the revolver, felt the weight of it. I double-checked that it was loaded, that the safety was on. And then I put it in the drawer of my bedside table.

  “What are you doing?”

  I whirled around to see my wife in the doorway. Her face was white, her posture beaten down. What had she seen? “Nothing.” I jumped to my feet and moved toward her.

  “Did you just put a gun in that drawer?”

  I was caught. There was no use lying. “Look, Viv… I know how you feel about guns, but we’re under attack here. You said yourself that this has gone beyond child’s play. There’s been a man out there, with a knife. With gasoline and matches. I hope I never have to use it, but I’m not going to stand by and let someone hurt you or the kids.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t believe it’s come to this. A weapon. In our home.”

  “Eli could have been killed by those wasps. The house could have burned down with us in it. And someone came in here while we were asleep.” My voice cracked. “The police won’t help us. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” she said.

  I took her in my arms. “Why are you sorry? This is all my fault.” I stroked her hair as she cried softly on my chest for a few moments. And then she pulled away.

  “This isn’t your fault,” she said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Eli

  I WAS IN the kitchen, applying a paste of baking soda and water to my welts to relieve the itching, when the doorbell rang.

  “Door!” I yelled. My parents were upstairs. My sister was in the basement. Someone in this family who wasn’t covered in crusty white bumps could answer it. But no one responded. “Don’t worry! I’ll get it,” I called, heavy on the sarcasm. It wouldn’t be for me. No one came to see me anymore.

  But when I opened the door, I saw my friend Sam on the doorstep. He was in his usual shorts, and a T-shirt that read: GOD MADE US SISTERS, ALCOHOL MADE US FRIENDS. “Dude,” he said. “What happened to you?”

  “Bee stings,” I said, feeling foolish. And exhausted. I didn’t want to explain that the wasps’ nest had been planted in our garbage can. That someone was out to get my family.

  “Do they hurt?”

  “Nah.”

  “I’ve got the day off,” Sam said. “I was hoping we could chat. Catch up.”

  “Sure.” I stepped back and ushered him inside.

  We sat in the living room. My parents and sister hadn’t emerged to see who was at the door, so we had the main floor to ourselves.

  “How’s work?” Sam asked.

  “Good. Except I’ll have to take a few days off now. These stings are pretty ugly.”

  “Sucks, man. How did it happen?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I waved my hand dismissively. “How’s the bank?”

  “Fine. Yeah, good.” He shifted in his seat, his eyes darting around the familiar house. “There’s something I thought you should know.… It’s about Arianna.”

  My pulse quickened at the mention of her name. “What about her?”

  “Well, I guess it’s more about Derek.” Sam leaned toward me, lowered his voice though we were alone. “He’s been seeing someone else. A girl he met online. Arianna doesn’t know.”

  I felt a swell of anger and protectiveness, but it was misplaced. Arianna wasn’t mine anymore. “Why are you telling me?”

  “I thought you cared about her,” Sam said. “She’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t deserve this.”

  She didn’t. But I couldn’t save her. Arianna had made it clear that she didn’t want me anymore. “Why don’t you tell her?”

  “Dude.” He didn’t need to explain. He couldn’t betray Derek.

  I heard the door from the basement open, and my sister emerged. Sam looked up. “Tarryn. Hey.”

  She glowered at him as if she’d never seen him before, even though he’d been my best friend for about seven years, even though he was her friend Georgia’s cousin. “Hey,” she finally muttered.

  “How’s it going?” Sam asked. “You good?”

  “Sure.”

  She strode toward the door with Sam’s eyes on her. He seemed oddly interested in my gloomy sister. Even when she slammed the door behind her, he kept watching in her wake.

  “Yeah,” I said, bringing him back to the issue at hand. “I can’t tell Arianna. She’ll think I’m jealous and trying to ruin things with Derek. She won’t believe me.”

  “You’re probably right.” Sam rested his elbows on his knees. “I just hate that she’s getting played. She was really broken up after you dumped her.”

  “I know,” I said, a catch in my voice. But thanks to my parents, Arianna didn’t want anything more to do with me. She was over me now. “I don’t want her to get hurt, but… what happens between her and Derek—it’s none of my business.”

  “Maybe she’ll figure it out on her own,” Sam said.

  “Hopefully.”

  He stood up. “Okay, then.” I followed him to the door. “Take care of those bee stings.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for coming by.”

  He got on his bike and rode away.

  Viv

  MY HUSBAND AND I were sequestered in my walk-in closet, staring at the bag of tiny blue pills, Dolly’s words looping through my mind.

  Fake oxy. I didn’t even know such a thing existed before all this. The pills almost look like the real thing, but they’re dull and rough, made in some underground lab. They’re toxic and dangerous.

  “So, you stole these from Dolly Barber’s son?” Somehow Thomas was keeping his voice level, controlled. But when I answered him, mine trembled.

  “Yes.”

  The memory had come rushing back to me, there on Dolly’s doorstep. I’d remembered finding the pills in a linen closet, hidden behind a stack of towels. I hadn’t recalled whose home I’d been in until that moment. It had been in Dolly’s old house. The illicit pills had belonged to Nate Barber.

  “What are they?” Thomas poked the bag with a tentative finger.

  “Fake oxy.”

  “Jesus Christ, Viv.”

  “I know.” Tears welled in my eyes.

  “How long have you been stealing things?”

  “I’ve stopped,” I fibbed. “It was a stupid little thrill.”

  “What else have you taken?”

  “Just small things, like nail polish, an earring, a corkscrew.…”

  His brow was wrinkled with concern, confusion, distaste. “But why?”

  “I-I don’t know, Thomas. It felt like I was losing you. And the kids were so unhappy, but they wouldn’t talk to me. Taking things gave me a sense of power, I guess. It was something I could control. But I always ended up hating myself.”

  He was looking at me like he’d never seen me before, like some strange kleptomaniac had just appeared in his wife’s renovated walk-in closet.

  “I never took anything big,” I continued. “I never took anything meaningful or important.”

  “Except these.” Thomas’s gaze was affixed to the plastic bag containing the pills. “How much are these worth?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.” I swallowed. “Mark Barber had to pay off the drug supplier. Dolly said he had to take a backpack filled with cash into an alley. They were terrified, but they had to pay the money back, to protect Nate.”

  “Christ.”

  “When I stole the drugs, Nate’s supplier beat him up. He broke his jaw.” My voice was barely a whisper. “It’s all my fault. And Nate knows it.”

  “So, he figured out that you took them.” Thomas looked up at me, and his eyes were cold. “He must really hate you.”

  “He does. And he has every right to.”

  “Do you think Nate Barber is behind the attacks on our house?”

  “He can’t be. Dolly said he’s practically locked up at home.
And they’re out in the valley now. Nate doesn’t even have access to a car.”

  “So, who else knows you have these pills?” Thomas pressed. “Who did Nate tell?”

  The question took me aback. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Did he tell his supplier? Some of his dealer friends? Some of his junkie clients?”

  The possibility had not even occurred to me. Oh god. My knees weakened.

  “You brought ten thousand dollars’ worth of illicit drugs into our home, Viv,” my husband snapped. “You didn’t think you were placing us in danger?”

  “I didn’t think anyone would know,” I cried. “I didn’t expect Nate to realize it was me.”

  “When this drug lord was beating the crap out of him, you don’t think Nate might have mentioned that he knew where the drugs were?”

  “You think a gangster is behind our harassment?”

  “You’ve seen the footage,” Thomas said. “It’s not always little boys scurrying around in the night. There’s been a man out there.”

  “Is that really how drug lords operate?” I said. “With rats and wasps?”

  “I don’t know, do I?” Thomas was angry now. “But Nate Barber had his jaw broken. Who knows what could happen to us?”

  God, he was right. And it was all on me.

  “I’ll take the drugs to the police,” I said, tears spilling from my eyes. “I don’t care if I get charged. Or if Dolly ruins my business and my good name. I’ll tell them what I did. They’ll protect us.”

  If I’d expected some sort of thanks for falling on my sword, none was forthcoming. “What about the rest of us, Viv?” My husband’s face was dark and twisted with rage. “If you admit to stealing from a client’s home, my reputation as a realtor will be ruined. And what about the kids? They’ll be mortified! Eli played soccer with Nate Barber, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Oh god… you’re right.”

  “And there’s no guarantee that the cops will protect us, just because you walk in with a bag of pills you stole.”

  “I-I don’t know what else to do!” I cried.

  “Neither do I.” My husband said nothing for a long moment, his eyes on the fake pharmaceuticals. Finally, he looked up at me. “This is serious, Viv. We’re in danger.”

  He was right. And the thought that I’d put my family’s lives in jeopardy threatened to overwhelm me. I gripped the top of the island, my legs sagging with fear, regret, self-loathing. “I’m so sorry,” I said, the tears slipping from my eyes.

  But Thomas didn’t comfort me, didn’t hold me and tell me it would be okay. He just turned and strode out of the closet. My stomach twisted sharply, and I doubled over with pain.

  What had I done?

  Tarryn

  I HAD EXPECTED Mr. McLaughlin or Ms. Harris to call my parents, but when a couple of days passed without contact, I allowed myself to relax. My English teacher must have believed me when I told him that I had my problems under control. Or maybe he and the counselor had bigger issues to worry about. Maybe they just wanted to enjoy the Fourth of July holiday. Whatever the reason, it seemed like I was off the hook. And now I could focus on getting revenge on Bryce Ralston.

  Humiliation was the ticket. Bryce had slept with me, fallen for me, and I’d rejected him. Now he pretended he barely knew me, that I was too far beneath him to warrant even the most basic civility. All the while, he was watching me online, messaging me, obsessing over me. It was time the kids at Centennial High knew the truth.

  A Snapchat story would be the most efficient way to get the word out. I had quite a few followers, but I could count on the story being shared throughout the school community. I would go on camera and tell everyone exactly what had happened between Bryce Ralston and me. He could try to deny it, but I would mention the cute little birthmark on his lower left hip. The boys in the locker room would have noticed it. And anyone else who had seen him naked.

  I held my phone out, about to record, when Luke texted me. Finally.

  Hey stranger. Want to hang? Or are you still mad at me?

  I was still mad. Luke had gone to Bryce’s end-of-year party while I’d sat home alone drinking vodka out of a pickle jar. I’d seen the Instagram photos of Luke and Georgia spending Independence Day by her parents’ pool, while I’d been forced to endure an overcooked veggie burger and the forced cheerfulness of my family. But Luke had a way of disarming me, of making me feel petty for being angry. And he was the only person who knew I had been camming, who knew about the creepy messages I’d received. I was desperate to tell him that I finally knew the identity of my stalker. So, I replied:

  Smoothie?

  * * *

  I MET LUKE on Northwest Twenty-Third, at our usual smoothie place. The drinks cost upwards of ten bucks, but they were delicious and healthy, and I still had plenty of money saved in my bank account. Soon, I would start camming again… as Collette. Or maybe Anjelica. And the money, along with the attention, the adoration, would roll in again.

  “I’ve missed you,” Luke said, as we sat at a small round table, our pricey smoothies before us. “Bryce’s party sucked, by the way.”

  I’d planned to play it cool, but my friend knew how to diffuse my anger. And I had missed him, too. Luke was my only confidante, and I had so much to tell him.

  “You were right about Mr. McLaughlin,” I said, sucking thick green liquid up a compostable straw. “He wasn’t sending me those messages.”

  “How do you know?”

  I leaned forward. “I went to his house.”

  “Oh my god, Tarryn!”

  I told him everything then, about the vodka, the bike ride, Mr. McLaughlin’s pretty wife and crying baby. I told him how I’d been called into the English classroom, how I’d wriggled out of the counseling session. “At least now I know who’s been harassing me.”

  Luke leaned closer. “Who?”

  “Bryce.” I stirred my smoothie, the straw squeaking in the plastic lid. “It has to be him.”

  Luke sat back with a shrug. “Maybe not.”

  “It definitely was. And I’m going to make him pay.”

  “How?”

  “I’m going to do a Snap story. I’m going tell everyone what happened between us. How he was a virgin, how he fell for me, how he couldn’t handle it when I turned him down.”

  “No, Tarryn.” Luke’s face looked hot and red. “You can’t do that.”

  “He deserves it,” I retorted. “His messages scared the shit out of me.”

  “He didn’t do it, Tarryn. It wasn’t Bryce Ralston.”

  “I know you don’t want to believe it because he invited you to his party, but he’s a dick!” I consciously lowered my volume before continuing, “He’s the only person who hates me enough to send those messages.”

  “Maybe he is a dick and maybe he does hate you, but he wasn’t sending you those messages.” Luke sounded rueful. “I know who it was.”

  My stomach dropped. “Who?”

  “It was Georgia.”

  “What the actual fuck?” The betrayal made me feel sick, the banana, coconut milk, and kale churning in my stomach.

  “She was worried about you,” Luke tried to explain. “The camming site is not a safe space for someone our age. And you’re so smart. You have college to look forward to. This could haunt you. It could ruin your chances of getting into a good school.”

  Since when were Luke and Georgia so concerned about my future prospects? They sounded like my fucking parents. “So, you knew about this?” I spat.

  “Not at first.…”

  “Then how did Georgia know I was camming?”

  “Her cousin came across your page and he recognized you. If Sam could tell it was you, then anyone could.”

  Oh god. Eli’s friend Sam had been watching me cam. He’d seen me in my sexy lingerie, talking about TV shows and vitamins and my favorite type of pressed juice. And he’d been over at our house only a couple of days ago. Had he come to tell Eli that he’d seen me? Would my brother
tell my parents? The knowledge would kill my mom right now. She was already so close to falling apart, this would definitely tip her over the edge.

  “Is Sam going to tell my brother?” I said, my voice hoarse with fear.

  “No. He told Georgia to deal with it. He told her to make you stop… and she did.”

  “By scaring the shit out of me!” I snapped. “I’ve been fucking terrified, Luke. I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure out who was sending me those messages. I went to McLaughlin’s house! Why didn’t you tell me it was her?”

  “I promised I wouldn’t. And… I wanted you to stop. I was worried about you, too.”

  “Then why not tell me that? Why not just ask me to stop?”

  My friend looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “We’ve known you since first grade, Tarryn. If we’d asked you to stop, you’d have said we were shaming you for doing sex work. You’d have accused us of judging you.”

  He was right, I would have. But I wasn’t about to admit it, not now. I was still simmering with anger, reeling from the betrayal.

  “We thought this was the best way to protect you,” Luke said.

  To my horror, I felt tears well in my eyes. I didn’t want to fall apart in this smoothie bar, in front of Luke. I stood up. “I don’t know if I can forgive you and Georgia this time.”

  “Maybe we were wrong, but we did it because we love you.”

  The thickness in my throat kept me from answering. But even if it hadn’t, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever felt more betrayed. Or more alone.

  I turned and I left, the ten-dollar smoothie on the table, melting in its plastic cup.

  Thomas

  THE OPEN HOUSE would not be well-attended, that I knew. It was a run-down bungalow with a bad layout. Plus, no one was searching for a house on the Saturday evening after the Fourth of July. It was a time for family vacations and out-of-town visitors, for parties and barbecues. Not for us, though. Thanks to our faceless attackers—be they neighborhood kids or drug lords—we couldn’t leave town. Who knew what would happen to our property in our absence? And we weren’t about to invite guests over. They’d be terrified, if not actually injured. And we’d be mortified.