The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whose idea it is.” She didn’t know why he’d care about that anyway. “The main thing is to keep this movement on its feet, and help the Isaacsons. I can’t imagine the shock of suddenly facing five kids under five.”

  She tightened her arms around her body, the night’s chill starting to seep into her bones. The kid subject wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.

  “Yeah, that would be a handful.” He suddenly changed tack. “How many kids do you want?”

  “What?” That was usually a question men went to great lengths to avoid. The randomness of it threw her off-guard. “I don’t know…I’m not really planning on having kids.” Just saying it out loud kick-started the ache that came with that probability, and she shivered.

  “You’re cold.” He stepped closer, his pupils deepening his eyes to chocolate in the dark, his brows shadowing them further. Her back was freezing where she was pressed against the bus, but she could feel the warmth from his body in front, maybe an inch away. Any thoughts of running were replaced with an urge to step forward and meet that warmth with her own body. To slide her hands under his t-shirt and across his smooth back, run teasing fingers around the waistband of his boxers, and discover whether she could undo the cold’s effect…

  But he seemed unaware of where her wayward mind was going. “No kids?” he asked. “Why not?”

  She sighed, back to reality. She didn’t know for sure what the future would bring, but she wasn’t going to hope and plan for something that could be so cruelly snatched away.

  “You already know why. I do like kids, but I just couldn’t give my children the burden of those wonky genes. I’ve seen what they did to my mum, remember?”

  She’d told him more than she intended that night, after the epic Shelby fight. Maybe her over-sharing was what triggered her misjudgment. I just can’t, he’d said. And done her a favor, really. She didn’t know why he couldn’t, and she wasn’t going to ask—maybe the reason was Jennifer, maybe not. But anyway, if it was a letting-her-down-gently, she really didn’t need to know why.

  “About that night…” he began.

  But she shook her head and stepped around him onto the damp grass, removing herself from any temptation, avoiding another strikeout.

  “Let’s not go there. I was just having an overwhelmed moment, you know, far from home, driven crazy by sister, too many cocktails, blah blah.” It sounded believable enough. “And we have to work together on this event now.”

  Now it was his turn to fold his arms. “Blah blah, huh? Okay. Come on then, we’d better get back inside.” He waved for her to go ahead. “After you, Lady Cady.”

  Was the blah blah a bit much? Well, it was for the best. But walking ahead, she was suddenly self-conscious about her gait—like she’d forgotten which foot went where, and exactly how much hip-wiggling was her usual amount. Was he watching her the way she’d watched him, admiring his easy stride, his firm butt, and the darkness of his hair against his neck? She shook her own hair, so that it swished down her back. Let him look. No harm in looking, after all.

  Back in the bus, they paused outside their beds. “Goodnight,” she mouthed silently, and he did the same.

  They both got into bed. She lay wide awake behind the curtain, waiting for her frozen toes to warm up, and going over the encounter in her mind. Her ears pricked at every little sound in the bus, trying to tell which might be him. If each of them reached out, they’d be able to touch hands across the space between their beds. She wondered what he was thinking, or if he was already asleep. Then there was the sound of movement, and her curtain was pulled back again. She raised herself up on one elbow, her heart beating a little faster.

  “Don’t let him take you over,” he whispered, his voice serious.

  She realized he meant Kyle. She was kind of flattered that he’d think to say that—even though it was totally unnecessary. Letting Kyle have one idea didn’t constitute falling into a cultish thrall. But he waited until she nodded okay, then he let the curtain fall again, and was gone.

  Her toes were still frozen, but one part of her at least was well-warmed by their encounter. She squished her thighs together and rolled over, pulling her legs up against her body. This was going to be some bus ride.

  Eleven

  The following week was a whirlwind of activity as they pulled together to make Cady’s—now Kyle’s—flash mob idea happen.

  They were travelling the next day to Rownville, a sweet satellite town about an hour north of San Francisco. In the morning, Cady peeked out of bed, hoping to make a dash for the bathroom without bumping into Reid. But he was already up and gone, the curtain open and his bed neatly straightened. She resolved to keep her toilet bag in her bunk from now on, so she could do any emergency remedial work before facing everyone on the bus. Shelby’s curtain above was still closed, which was no surprise. She’d never been a morning person. As Cady headed for the bathroom, the sound of gentle snoring drifted out from Alison’s bunk. She laughed to herself, knowing Alison would hate that she was making such an unattractive sound. It was tempting to record it—maybe she’d suggest it to Shelby, and let her have the fun.

  By the time she came back out of the bathroom, dressed and presentable, Reid and Gavin were joking around in the kitchen. Boxes of pastries sat on the table, along with cardboard trays of takeout coffee.

  Reid gave her a wink. “Sleep well?”

  She pulled a coffee from a tray. “Mostly,” she replied, looking into one of the pastry boxes to avoid his grin. Damn, even first thing in the morning he was completely distracting. “You guys too lazy to make breakfast?”

  “Yup,” Gavin said, reaching over her to take the biggest pastry. “Just tell my man thank you. He paid.”

  She looked across at Reid. Leaning against the bench, long legs stretched out, he made the kitchen seem like it was built for munchkins. Her eyes wanted to travel up and down, up and down his body, but she made herself focus on his face. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Lady Cady,” he replied. “Can’t have our foreign dignitaries going hungry.”

  Before she could reply, Kyle came into the kitchen, looking creased and ragged. “Morning.”

  “Morning,” they all replied. Cady thought he looked like he hadn’t slept at all. If he had slept, it had been with the beanie on his head. He looked terrible.

  “Come with me,” he told her, picking up a coffee and taking the tray with it. He grunted and batted it off, and it fell on the floor. “Come.” Then he turned and went out.

  After what Reid had said the night before, she felt self-conscious about following Kyle out. But she was her own person, and working closely with Kyle to make this happen for the Flashpointers—and for the Isaacsons—wasn’t any kind of compromise. This new start had had its hiccups, but didn’t any new thing? Until now she’d only really seen the charismatic Kyle, the hipster-cool face he turned to the world. But, hey, no one could keep that up 24/7. She went after him, grabbing a pastry to quiet her rumbling stomach.

  He led her up to the second level. As they went, she glanced behind her to see if Shelby was up, but there was no sign of her. She’d be green with envy over this little excursion.

  At the top of the stairs was a small hallway, with cupboards along one side. He opened a door in front of them, and they went through into his suite. It was as luxuriously appointed as the downstairs, with leather furniture, another bar, and cloud-soft grey carpet. The only difference was the state it was in.

  He dodged across in front of her and pulled the en suite bathroom door closed. “Kind of a mess,” he muttered.

  As was the rest of the suite. Cady wriggled her bare toes in the plush luxury underfoot, but was careful not to step too quickly. God knows what she might stand on. This mess would be a credit to an entire rock band on the road, let alone one smallish hipster with a large ego.

  “Have a seat,” he said, sitting on the corner of his enormous bed. She spotted a space
on the sofa next to the bar, and picked her way across, stepping over an empty Doritos bag, a sauce-smudged Taco Bell box, and, urk, a pair of black silk boxers. He didn’t seem to care about the chaos, so she tried not to notice it. She wasn’t his mother, after all. Thankfully.

  He rubbed his glazed eyes, then flipped the lid off his coffee and took a huge gulp, obviously in need of something strong to sharpen himself up. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Cady finished her pastry, waiting to hear what he’d got her up there for, and resisted the urge to tell him there was a little bit of foam on the corner of his topless beard.

  “Listen,” he said, coming right to the point. “We need this to be a success, all right? We need numbers on the day, and we need positive media coverage. If this goes well, my sponsorship negotiations will be back on track.”

  She thought for a moment. “If that’s an important factor, we’ll have to tread carefully with the bank. If we make them look bad, no big corporate will come near.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded, satisfied. “I thought you’d get it.”

  She leaned back, trying to get her head around the delicacy of the situation. Something stuck into her spine, and she fished a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey out from behind her and dropped it on top of a pile of clothes. “Okay, so…we need to set it up right. Make it possible for them to look like the good guys coming in to save the day, not the bad guys in sharp suits ruining the Isaacson’s lives.”

  “And this is why I got you back,” he said. “I was so right.”

  “Um…thank you.”

  He stood up, as though something was all decided. “So you’re taking charge of this flash mob.”

  She looked up at him, nonplussed. “Me? But I’ve never organized anything like this before.” And, she didn’t add, wasn’t he the one who should be in charge?

  “You don’t have to do all the work,” he said. “But someone needs to keep the tone, manage the perceptions and the egos. I’m right about you.”

  He held out an arm, inviting her to leave. The conversation was over. It was settled—she was doing his job. For better or worse, Flashpoint’s future hung not just on her idea, but on her own self. She hoped he was right about her.

  * * *

  On the way to Rownville, with the team together on the bus, Kyle announced what he had told Cady earlier—he was appointing her as official coordinator for the event. This set the cat amongst the pigeons—although actually, Cady felt more like the pigeon between two stalking cats. With no clue that it was all Cady’s idea, Alison and Jennifer were obviously perplexed and pissed that this newcomer could walk in and take the coveted spot at Kyle’s right hand. Reid and Shelby knew why, of course. Cady had sworn Shelby to secrecy at the beginning, and knew she’d be enjoying the other girls’ annoyance.

  Reid raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything apart from congratulations. No one had noticed their midnight assignation, and neither of them mentioned it. It seemed to Cady like it could have been a dream, if it wasn’t for the bits of grass in her bed that morning. There was something else she would rather have found in her bed. But even if the two of them were a happening thing—even if Reid hadn’t said I just can’t, and left it there—the bus was not the place. Bunking down with one real twin, two evil twins (one of whom seemed particularly attached to Reid), and one cheery California doofus didn’t exactly lend itself to romance. Time and a place, after all. Not that there would be either, it seemed.

  As they drove, Cady put any lingering thoughts out of her head and got busy. She managed to contact the Isaacsons, and told the mum, Dayna, what Flashpoint was proposing. After she explained, there was a long silence on the line, and she wondered if they’d be turned down. But then there was a sudden shuddering intake of breath, and a sob, and she realized that Dayna had been silently crying on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes!” she managed, in between sobs. “Oh my God, yes. Thank you!”

  Full of relief, Cady laughed. “You’re welcome. I just hope we can make a difference for you and your family.”

  “Brad!” she called out to her husband. “Brad, you’re not going to believe this!” Then she addressed Cady again. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it—how much we both needed some kind of miracle like this.”

  “I don’t know if we can work a miracle for you,” Cady had to warn her. “But we’ll do our best to help. We’ll come and see you soon, and fill you in on the plan.”

  Once she’d talked to Dayna, she realized how high the stakes really were. They were real people, a real family facing a life-changing crisis. Having promised to help, the Flashpointers had to come through, somehow. After that conversation, she felt like things had stepped up a notch, and the pressure was on. And as she told the others about it, she could see the same feeling reflected in all their faces.

  In Rownville, they found a place to park the bus and did reconnaissance around town. Luckily, the Isaacson’s bank was in a square that allowed plenty of room for the crowd they hoped would turn up on the day.

  The plan was to use Iggy Pop’s song ‘Home’ as the theme music—it was perfect for the occasion, talking about how everyone needs a home, and who’s looking after you, and love of family, and ending up on the street. It was also simple, and ridiculously catchy. Cady had found a version online without the curse words, because this was a family event, after all.

  The area outside the bank was more than big enough to chalk out the floor plan of a house. The plan was for the flash mob participants to stand along the outline, forming a house made of people. They were timing the event for sunset, so they could hold glow sticks lighting the outline. Any extra people—and they hoped there’d be a lot—would surround them. In the dusk there should be enough light to see everything that happened, made festive with the glow sticks. And anyone who didn’t bring glow sticks could add sparkle in the dark with their phones.

  They made contact with some local Flashpoint fans who were willing to help out however they could. There was talk about borrowing items of furniture for the day, so that their house made of people would have chairs, rugs, a table, and whatever other random household items they could get hold of. But then it occurred to Cady that maybe they could get a furniture store to donate some pieces, so she added that to her to-do list.

  She also asked Shelby and Jennifer to choreograph simple but suitably Iggy-ish dance moves, and the two of them worked together surprisingly well. Once she was separated from Alison, Shelby reported, Jennifer was almost okay. In fact, she was even pretty nice. They came up with some great moves that could be done more or less on the spot, to hold the house outline, and spent an afternoon making a video to post on the Flashpoint YouTube channel. Judging by the giggling and fooling around that was going on every time Cady went to check on them, it promised to be very entertaining. Plus, their tiny outfits couldn’t hurt, if they were hoping to attract plenty of guys to the event too…

  Alison was charged with traditional media liaison, her usual job. She was definitely less inclined to warm to the twins, maintaining such a brittle veneer of faux friendliness that Cady was scared to go too close in case she smashed all over the floor. There didn’t seem much point in trying to turn her around, so Cady just got on with the job. They started putting the word out on social media too, crossing their fingers that there’d be no snarky backlash this time.

  The guys did their bit, racing here and there getting things organized and making contacts. If their version of making contacts included drinking quite a lot of beer with various locals, Cady figured it couldn’t do any harm. And if Reid was out ‘networking’ with Gavin, and she was busy working, there would be mercifully few opportunities during the day to torture herself with sneak peeks and surreptitious admiration. When they all met up again in the evening, she sat herself firmly between two of the others—even if one of them had to be Alison—and resisted the damn-near-irresistible.

  Twelve

  Cady had arranged to go and see
Dayna Isaacson on their second day in Rownville. Brad was out job-hunting, Dayna had said on the phone, but the boys would be glad of a new person to show off for. She was getting so big now that it was uncomfortable just getting around, and she was going out less and less. Cady wanted to take something for the kids, Max and Ty, so she asked what they were into.

  “Oh, cars,” Dayna sighed. “Cars, cars, and cars. I can’t believe how much car info a four-year-old and a three-year old can memorize.”

  Cady laughed. “They must be very clever kids.”

  “Yeah, if only they were as clever at remembering their pleases and thank yous.”

  “I’m sure they’re absolute angels,” Cady said.

  “Sure, when they’re asleep,” Dayna retorted, the standard parent joke. But then she added, “Actually, they are little cherubs. You know, sometimes I feel like they were just waiting for us to be ready for them to arrive. To give them a way to earth. And the same with these three. I can’t imagine why they chose us…but everything will just have to be okay.”

  As she hung up, Cady let herself be envious just for a moment. She didn’t think she’d ever be strong enough to cope with what Dayna was facing. Of course, there was a good chance she wouldn’t ever find out how she’d cope with even one. The softness in Dayna’s voice when she talked about her little ones, all five of them, and the simple way she knew their family was meant to be, brought on a pang of loss. She pushed it away, and resolved to do everything she could for this woman and her babies.

  * * *

  Although Kyle had decided that she and Alison should be the ones to visit Dayna and Brad, when the day came, Alison had a radio interview to do. It was actually a relief—Cady wasn’t convinced that Alison was the most sympathetic of the team. But when Kyle chose Reid as the replacement, her relief turned on its head. She was sitting in the corner of the bus lounge, at the desk that served as the Flashpoint operations center. Turning in the chair, she blurted out, “Really?”