“I did what you wanted, didn’t I? I told them how great everything looked. What else did you want me to do? Did I not act envious enough or something?”
“This has nothing to do with you, Tyler,” Lana said, her voice muffled and trembling, the way it always sounded just before she burst into tears.
“If it’s not me, then what is it?”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” She sounded just like her mother.
He ground his teeth. “Man, and don’t I know it.”
These days, Lana never missed an opportunity to remind him that not only did the world not revolve around him, but he was on a priority list in a galaxy somewhere outside of her solar system. He was lucky to get a civil word out of her unless they were going out to eat or doing something extraordinary.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snipped.
Tyler shrugged. “I never know what’s going on with you, Lana. You asked me to come with you to this thing tonight, and I agreed—even though I really don’t care that their house was remodeled by some television network and they’re going to be on that home show. And really, I don’t know why you’re so impressed with that either. We have a nice house, too.”
“Yeah, right. I’d be embarrassed to ask Hilary and Drew over.”
Tyler shook his head. He refused to respond to her goad. Now she was just picking a fight.
Lana sniffed, turning her face toward the window. “Between your mess—the golf clubs, the computer stuff—and the kids’ junk all over the place, some days I feel like checking into a hotel.”
“Fine,” Tyler said. “You need me to do more around the house? Is that what you’re saying? ’Cause I can do that. Just let me know.”
But it was obvious this offer wasn’t enough for her. Oh no. She was looking for a proper battle tonight, and nothing he said would cool Lana’s belligerent state of mind. Her ice-blue eyes—the ones he’d fallen in love with so long ago—bored into the side of his face.
“Did you see the storage units they put in their basement? And the size of their master bath? It would be great to have some updated hardware in our bathrooms, instead of the builder’s special from fifteen years ago.”
“Well, maybe we can look into that,” Tyler said as anger circled his emotional periphery, banging at the outskirts of his brain with all of the clumsiness of an off-kilter washing machine. “We’ll see what we can do, Lana. We don’t have the budget a TV network has, though.”
“Or the Newell’s budget,” Lana reminded him.
They’d had this conversation more than a few times recently—ever since Hilary and Drew Newell, friends from church, had been contacted by Remodel, Inc., Television and were told they’d been chosen from thousands of applicants to appear on one of the reality shows.
“After the new year, we’ll contact The DIY Outlet, OK? I’ll see if I can have someone come in and give us a quote on our master bathroom, but we can’t go crazy and do an entire remodel like they did. We don’t have that kind of cash.”
Lana turned on him. “I know that. Why do you keep saying that? What do you want me to do? Go back to work? Put the kids in daycare?”
“No, Lana, I’d just like you to be satisfied for once in your life. It doesn’t matter how much we have, you always want more. We could live in a mansion in Great Falls and you’d want us to live in Newport, Rhode Island, instead. You are never, never happy!” The rage came on suddenly, leaving him no space to talk himself down from it. He’d been reading a book on controlling his anger, and he was working on redirecting it, channeling it into his workouts at the gym, or finding ways to deflect or control it before it flared. But tonight, the techniques weren’t working.
Lana went silent.
He sighed heavily as the adrenaline subsided, and he propped his elbow against the window, leaning his head upon his hand as he drove. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, as much to himself as to his wife.
At least he had dinner with the Wolfs to look forward to. He and Lana had gone early to the Newells’ open house so they could still meet Josh and Molly for drinks and dinner. Plus, tonight they were trying out the new restaurant on the corner of Elden Street and Herndon Parkway. That was secretly the only reason he’d gone to this thing anyway. That and the chance for a night away from the kids. “You might text Molly and Josh and let them know we’ll be a few minutes late,” Tyler suggested.
“Oh, I’m not going. Text and tell them to forget it.”
A tight knot developed in the pit of Tyler’s stomach. He knew that tone all too well, and it usually meant she would dig in her heels. Some of their worst fights had ended that way, and in the last few years, the fights were more frequent. Embarrassing premature exits from church events and Bible studies, feeble excuses as to why they couldn’t attend birthday parties, sheepish phone calls to his parents asking if the kids could stay the night with them because of some emergency or other…Tyler knew they never really fooled anyone. “Come on, Lana. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Why? So you can stare across the table at Molly all night?”
“What?” Tyler shot her a glare. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.”
“No. That’s ridiculous. And you know it.”
“Is it?” she sneered.
“Yes, it is. Now you’re acting like some crazy person. Let’s just go and have a nice meal and forget about this.”
“No.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not going. I’ll jump out of this car right now.”
“Molly and Josh are our friends, Lana. It’s not like you don’t know them. Anyway, they’re probably already there.”
“You want to call them or you want me to do it?”
“Come on, Lana.” He really did want to go. He wanted to sit down with friends and talk and laugh. He wanted to pretend like they were in love—as they used to be.
“Nope. I’m not going.”
“What do you want to tell them?”
“I don’t care. Tell them there’s an emergency with the kids or the babysitter.”
“You mean lie.”
“I don’t care what you tell them. Tell them the truth, for all I care.”
Tyler’s shoulders slumped with defeat. The clicking of the car’s signal light reminded him of the tsking noise his father sometimes made—the one he’d made ten years ago when Tyler had told him he was going to marry Lana. His father hadn’t liked Lana from the start. And Tyler’s father had never been wrong about anything.
Tyler shook his head as he jerked the steering wheel to the right and onto the street that would take them home rather than to dinner. “Fine. Go ahead and call them. Tell them whatever you want.”
3
Kaki
September
Damien was a hot guy and everything, but to Kaki, he looked a little older than she’d expected. Way older-than-high-school old. Not dad-old, but definitely twenties.
“Hey pretty ladies!” he called out as they approached.
Kaki lagged behind a little as Sydney walk up to him. She really knew how to strut with confidence. Shoulders back, head held high, hips swaying everywhere. She had the clothes, too. The skinny jeans, the figure-enhancing top, the high-heeled pumps.
Kaki wore the same jeans she always did, straight-legged and plain. Her favorite button-down hung like a shapeless sack over her T-shirt. Her slip-ons were like house slippers. Sensible, comfortable, sometimes sporty, never sexy.
“Hey-hey!” Sydney swaggered up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.
Kaki could hardly look at him. He had sharp eyes that pierced her skin like arrows. Hot, prickly things raked over her insides as his gaze moved up and down her body.
“I saw you at the track the other day. Girl, you can run,” he said.
Standing beside her, Sydney was beaming, her eyes searching his for approval at her lucky find. “She’s good at everything.”
“No, I’m not,” Kaki protested, hatin
g the flirty way Sydney said the words. Red blotches flamed over Kaki’s neck and cheeks like they always did when she was embarrassed or nervous.
“You ladies wanna take a little ride?” Damien asked. “I was thinking we could drive out to Sterling. Hang with a buddy of mine.”
“Sure!” Sydney responded.
Something panged in Kaki’s chest—something telling her she shouldn’t go. Yeah, he was hot, but his eyes kind of scared her. And how would her mom react to her riding home with some strange, older guy?
“I need to get home,” she said.
“Why?” Sydney sneered.
“I—I have homework, and my mom doesn’t like me to go anywhere after school.” Yeah, there we go. Use Mom as an excuse.
“You really want your mom controlling you like that?” Damien’s eyes stared right over her head. It seemed he was already losing what little interest he’d had in her. She was too much of a baby.
Kaki shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Sydney gripped her arm, forcefully pulling her toward Damien’s car. Her tone was practical. “Come on. We’ll just stay for a little while. Then Damien can drive us both home. Right, Damien?”
“Yeah,” he said, settling into the driver’s seat.
Sydney opened the passenger door of the blue Mustang, and pulled the lever to slide the seat forward as she motioned Kaki into the back.
With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Kaki crossed over the threshold of her old life and into the backseat of Damien’s car, a place which would forever after remain a symbol of the mode of transportation into her new, secret life.
~*~
That first afternoon when she rode with Damien and Sydney to meet his friends, it really wasn’t that bad. She was scared at first, but the neighborhood seemed OK, and that made it all seem a little less scary.
As they walked up to the house behind Damien, Sydney pulled her back and spoke quietly. “So, these two guys are really good friends of Damien’s. Spider and Jak. They’re cool. But they’re also like, really intense. So don’t say anything to them unless they talk to you, OK?”
“Spider?” Kaki wrinkled her nose. “What kind of name is that?”
Sydney shushed her. “Seriously. They’re super-cool. Be good.”
Kaki’s heart beat so hard it felt like there were extra vibrations to its rhythm. Like the time she went to a concert with her dad, and the music was so loud and the drum so strong it was kind of hard to breathe—like the drum was changing the rhythm of her heart or something.
And the way these guys looked at them, staring them up and down, licking their lips, and saying words in Spanish. Even the guy who spoke English used so many curse words Kaki had a hard time understanding him. Both guys were marked with blue and black tattoos that swirled and slithered up their necks and down their arms. Kaki wasn’t introduced to either of them.
“New girl?” One guy asked Damien.
“Yeah. Hopefully,” he said.
Kaki wondered if by “new girl” Damien meant he hoped she’d be his new girlfriend.
It was obvious Sydney knew these guys well. She talked to them in Spanish using flirty tones, touching one guy on the arm and smiling up into his face. Damien made strange hand motions to the other guy.
It was like she was in a foreign country where everyone knew the language but her.
But they didn’t stay there very long. Damien and the guy who had Masters of Sin tattooed on his forearm exchanged another weird hand motion along with a bag of something, and then they left.
She was supposed to stay at her dad’s house that night, so she directed Damien where to drive and drop her off. Damien got out of the car, popping the seat forward so she could crawl out. Sydney stayed in the car, fixated on her phone as though they weren’t even there.
“So, you gonna hang out with us or what?” Damien leaned against the door of his car and held her hands in his.
Something like electricity radiated up and down her arms, and it was really hard to look at him. “I don’t know.” She could barely hear her own voice.
“Why don’t you know? Don’t you want to hang out with me?”
She shrugged and giggled. She didn’t know what to say. Awkward. “I don’t know. Maybe. Don’t you care I’m only sixteen?”
He tugged at her arms, pulling her so close her midsection touched his. “I like sixteen.” His eyes narrowed and didn’t look directly into hers. “You wanna come out with me this weekend?”
“Umm…” She stalled for time. She wanted to, of course. She didn’t know if she was staying at her dad’s or her mom’s house that weekend, but neither of them would agree to let her go out with this guy. “How old are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not to me. But it’ll matter to my parents.”
“So don’t tell them. Haven’t you ever heard of sneaking out?”
He moved in closer. Was he going to kiss her? Her stepmother might see from the window of the house. She was always at home. “Don’t.” She pushed him away with another giggle. “Someone might see.”
“Let them see.” He pulled her forcefully to him and mashed his lips against hers. She’d never been kissed before, and it sent her heart into a frantic beat, not unlike when she ran track. As he pulled away from her, she imagined her face looked like a goofy kid with a weird smile and half-closed eyes.
“So what time should I pick you up Friday?” he asked.
Sydney answered from the car without even looking up from her phone. “Ten o’clock.”
“That’s early,” he said. “But OK. I’ll pick you up at ten. Meet me out front. I’ll pick you up on the curb. Be ready. Don’t make me wait.”
There was the slightest hint of warning in his words—just enough to send a current of fear through her chest. She didn’t want to disappoint him. She’d be there.
But ten o’clock was getting close to her weekend curfew, and it would definitely send up red flags with whichever parent she was staying with that night. She’d have to figure a way to get out of the house without them knowing.
~*~
Kaki’s mom and dad, Tyler and Christina, divorced when she was very young. She never remembered them living together. Her life, and that of her younger brother’s, had been a split screen—the one they lived with their single mother, and the one they lived with her father, stepmother, and half-siblings. Two days a week they lived with her dad; the other days of the week were at her mother’s with alternating weekends at either place. It was the only life she and Brandon had known and they were used to it, but sometimes it was a series of confusing and annoying schedule shuffles and mishaps.
“Oh no! This is my A-day book bag!” Kaki squalled. It was Friday morning and as she rummaged through her notebooks in preparation for first period, she realized with a sense of dread that it was a B day.
Sitting next to her, Riley Donaldson laughed. “Let me guess. Left it at your mom’s?”
“Yes.” Kaki slammed her hands against the top of the desk. “I can’t believe I mixed them up again. I did this Monday too. All of my homework is in my B-day bag.”
Riley pulled out a plastic bag full of orange slices. She took one out of the bag and offered another one to Kaki. “Want one?”
Kaki shook her head. “No. What am I going to do?”
Chewing, Riley shrugged. “Just tell Ms. Kempton what happened. She’ll understand. Tell her you’ll turn it in tomorrow.”
It wasn’t so much Ms. Kempton wouldn’t understand, it was more the frustration she had with herself. She was doing this all the time now. Ever since she’d started high school the previous year, it had been harder and harder to keep her schedules straight.
“Did you remember your running shoes?” Riley asked.
Kaki nodded. “Yeah, I keep those in a separate bag and it goes with me to both houses.”
“At least you remembered those.”
Riley and Kaki had known each other since elementary school, but it had
only been last year when they became friends. Running cross country together, the two girls were matched in their sprinting and cross-country abilities, and they ran with similar times. A friendly competition had sprung up between them, each one driving the other to work harder to be the fastest.
As though another thought occurred to her, Riley held up a finger. “Mm. The most important thing is,” she sputtered with her mouth full of orange, “did you remember to tell your mom to pick you up after track today?”
Kaki clutched at her hair. “Argh! No, I forgot. I’ll text and tell her right now.” She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and clicked it on. There was already a text waiting for her on the screen.
Ready for tonight?
Her heart surged. Damien.
Yes.
“Who’s that?” Riley asked.
Kaki immediately blackened the screen of the phone and stuffed it back into her bag. “No one.”
“Your mom?”
Oh, yeah. She still needed to text her mom. “Yeah, it was just my mom.”
~*~
Kaki’s mom dropped her off at her dad’s and stepmom’s house late that afternoon.
Lana, her stepmother, was vacuuming, and she was already drunk. Lana kept tripping over the cord and banging the vacuum into the wall. Her eyes were red and watery, too. Lana drank vodka. Straight up. So what if it was only three o’clock in the afternoon?
Lana probably didn’t think anyone knew about it.
She kept a bottle in the kitchen cabinet, tucked behind some tumblers, and another one behind the cleansers in the downstairs bathroom.
Kaki even knew Lana’s drinking schedule. Most days, drink number three came right around the same time—in between the kids coming home from school. The youngest, Celia, was home by noon, but napping by two-thirty. Micah, the eight-year-old, never arrived before four o’clock. Last year, Kaki’d had a stomach bug and stayed home from school for nearly a week. She got to know Lana’s habits well simply by observing how long she stayed in the downstairs bathroom and noting how fast the clear liquid in the bottle behind the tumblers evaporated.
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