by Bryce Oakley
At the overlook, she paused, looking to her left to find the small fork in the trail that would lead down to the hot springs. She hadn’t been there in a few years, but growing up with a private hot springs on her property meant their location was burned into her brain.
“What else did he say?” Vero thought to ask,
“Well, I thought he was an intruder and tried to club him over the head with a vase,” Billie admitted, breathlessly laughing behind her.
“Wow, how’d he take the battery in his own home?” Vero asked with a grin.
“Better than most,” Billie jested. “I didn’t know he was coming.”
“Neither did I,” Vero grumbled. She picked her way down the trail descent, toward the river. She could hear it over the wind in the trees, which was a good sign, but between their footsteps and bird sounds, it was still hard to pick out.
“He also asked how we were getting along,” Billie said, then made a sound of pain.
Vero glanced over her shoulder with concern.
“Sorry, just smacked myself in the face with a branch,” Billie said, holding her cheek.
Vero made a mental note to be more careful about which branches she stepped under and which she held back.
Billie was a good four inches taller than her, so where Vero could duck, Billie would have a harder time. Vero apologized, pausing as Billie picked her way over a tree root and under a branch at the same time.
“I have to ask, are you taking me somewhere to murder me?” Billie asked, laughing as they continued the climb. “Because there’s no one around, and I think that if I was a mutated cannibal, this would be the place.”
“Let me guess, you listen to those true crime murder podcasts and watch every murder documentary on Netflix?” Vero asked, pausing to figure out which way the trail lead.
She looked for the waterfall that signaled she was in the right place, and spotted it across the valley.
“One can never be too careful in this day and age,” Billie said, straightening her posture in what Vero read as an attempt to seem like more of an authority on the subject.
Vero nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize we were in the Golden Age of murdering,” she said with mock-reverence.
Billie looked as though she was taking Vero seriously. “I mean, really I’d call the 70s the Golden Age of serial killers, given the rise—“
“Found it,” Vero interrupted her. She pointed down another descending path to the hot springs tucked onto the water’s edge. They were walled off with rock, creating tiny soaking tubs along the river.
“Uh, what am I looking at? The river?” Billie said, her eyes wide with confusion.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Vero said, practically skipping down the rest of the descent in excitement. She hadn’t been to the hot springs recently, but she had been going to them for what seemed like her entire life.
“You’re like a fucking mountain goat,” Billie grumbled behind her, carefully shuffling and holding her weight slightly back to avoid jarring her knees and ankles.
Vero knelt next to the edge of the closest hot spring, a pool no bigger than a normal Jacuzzi. She dipped her hand in to test the temperature. It was bathwater warm — exactly how she remembered.
She pulled her t-shirt over her head, revealing her bikini top.
“Whoa,” Billie said, holding up her palms in surprise.
“It’s just a bikini,” Vero teased, untying her hiking boots and pulling off her socks.
“I… don’t,” Billie trailed off, looking around in panic.
“Just wear your bra and underwear. It’s the same thing,” Vero said, pulling off her shorts.
Billie looked around. “Won’t someone see us? Hikers? Rafters?” She asked, and Vero could faintly hear her gulp in fright.
Vero looked around. They were surrounded by gigantic mountains and hills that made getting out to the private hot springs a real feat.
Vero softened, smiling. “This river is an off-shoot, so no rafters. The land is private, so no hikers. If you feel weird, just sit on the edge and dip your feet in,” she said.
She pulled off her baseball cap and spun her ponytail into a bun on top of her head.
“The best way to enjoy the hot springs is to jump in the river first, then get in the warm part,” she said, walking along the embankment.
“Would we say that sounds like a good idea? That water looks fucking cold,” Billie said, eyeing it up.
“You’re afraid of the water? Don't you live at the beach?” Vero said, stepping into the water. After the hike, it felt incredible to cool her feet and legs in the icy river water, fresh from the snowmelt even in the fall. She waded in to her waist before turning around to see Billie. "Come on in, the water’s perfect.”
“You’re shivering,” Billie pointed out.
Vero laughed, looking down at her goosebump-covered skin. “In a good way,” she argued.
“The beach is warm. And I don’t get in the water," Billie said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Afraid of sharks?” Vero asked.
"Afraid of… vastness…” Billie said, shrugging. “We know less about the ocean than we know about space. Isn't that weird?”
“Wow, Nat Geo, you must be quite a hit at parties,” Vero teased, climbing over the manmade rock separation to the hot springs.
The water was comfortably warm, like bath water, warming her up immediately. The faint smell of sulfur mixed with the fresh scent of the river water brought her right back to childhood. She leaned her head back against the rocks and closed her eyes.
“So, these hot springs just… they’re in the ground?” Billie said, peering over the edge of the water.
“Yeah, they’re fed by underground springs,” Vero said, opening one eye to see her.
Billie had her arms crossed uncomfortably in front of her chest, biting her lip.
“Just dip your feet in. Seriously,” Vero said, waving a hand toward the water.
Billie sighed, giving in. She pulled off her sneakers and socks, then sat down gently on the rocks bordering the spring. She dipped her feet in cautiously, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“You’re being a little uptight,” Vero muttered.
“And you’re just lulling me into a false sense of comfort before you murder me,” Billie said, though she didn’t sound serious.
She leaned back on her palms, letting the sun stream over her shoulders. Her hair glowed golden, and she smiled as she closed her eyes, tipping her face into the sun.
Vero exhaled, realizing she was holding her breath watching Billie.
“You okay?” Billie asked quickly.
“Yeah, a bug,” Vero said lamely, trying to cover up her creepy behavior yet again.
“This view is stunning. There's nothing else like it,” Billie said.
Vero agreed immediately, then realized Billie meant the mountains. She turned, taking in the scene. It was easy to take Colorado’s beauty for granted, but the curved blues and greens and grays of the mountains with the river winding its way around a bend was truly breathtaking. She sometimes took for granted that she was surrounded by giant peaks from every angle.
Getting out of the house had been a good idea. She had to give Billie credit for that one.
“What was it like to grow up here?” Billie asked.
Vero looked up at her. Maybe it was the scenery, maybe it was the warm water, but she suddenly felt as though Billie was earnestly asking, wanting to get to know her. It was a good feeling that she was tired of running away from.
“Lonely,” Vero admitted. “ Don’t get me wrong, I really love it here now. Tom Cruise had a house here, and Oprah’s land is just over the hill.” She pointed. “But as a kid, all of my closest friends lived so far away. We didn’t have neighbors. I spent a lot of time with Elena or on my own.”
Billie didn’t look at her as she spoke, but she could tell that she was listening by the change in her expression.
“That
sounds really hard,” she said quietly. “You’re an only child?”
Vero nodded.
“I was exactly the opposite. There were always too many people around. My parents are lovely, don’t get me wrong, but with a younger sister and three older step-brothers, it was a lot,” Billie said.
“That sounds like the Brady Bunch,” Vero said with a chuckle.
“It kind of was,” Billie said, the edge of her mouth quirking up in a grin. “I became a musician just to have an excuse to be alone sometimes, but then Domino followed me into that, too.” She laughed.
“I started playing the drums just to have something in common with my dad,” Vero said, sighing. She smiled, thinking of how they would spend every moment together playing music or talking about music. He had made her appreciate all of the hard work of learning instruments and making a valid career out of it.
“Was he on tour a lot when you were younger?” Billie asked, gently kicking her feet back and forth in the water.
“All the time. I never went with him, though,” Vero said.
“And your mom?” Billie asked, her voice softening with uncertainty.
“I don’t remember her. I think she left when I was really young, but dad and Elena never talk about her, so I stopped asking a long time ago. I don't have much interest in figuring that out, to be honest,” Vero admitted, watching Billie’s toned calves move below the surface. Her cheeks flushed with the heat, but most likely from the warmth of the water, right?
“I’m sorry, that was intrusive,” Billie said, grimacing.
“No, it’s okay. You know better than anyone that if I don’t want to answer a question, I won’t,” Vero admitted. Why had she so easily let her guard down around Billie? She hadn't realized how lonely she had been for the past few months before having another person she could talk to — really talk to on her own level. But It was dangerous to be so comfortable with Billie. She cleared her throat, changing the subject. “Are your brothers musicians?”
Billie laughed. “No way. One’s a tax lawyer, one’s a pediatrician, and the other’s some kind of engineer, but I don’t understand what he does, exactly.” She let out a long breath. “Nope, only Domino and I went down the dangerous path of creativity,” she added.
“Rebels,” Vero said with a grin.
Billie smiled, shaking her head. “Big time. My parents are accountants. How Domino and I ended up the way we are, I’m not sure.”
“Is your family in LA?” Vero asked, tilting her head as she watched Billie fidget while discussing her family.
“Yep,” Billie said, nodding. “Well, kind of. My parents are in Yorba Linda, where we were born and raised. The boys are in Seattle, Ohio, and Chicago.”
“Yorba Linda,” Vero repeated, trying to place it. East? Out in the middle of nowhere? “Far from the beach.”
“Well, not everyone can have beach houses growing up,” Billie said, staring down pointedly at her.
“Guilty,” Vero admitted. She barely spent time there, preferring the quieter Telluride home instead.
“Do you have a place in LA now?” Billie asked, her hair falling in a curtain over her face as she stared down at the water.
Vero nodded, trying to keep a straight face.
“Where?” Billie asked, tilting her head with a curious expression.
“Why? You planning on stalking me once we go back?” Vero teased.
“I bet I can guess,” Billie said, raising her eyebrows in defiance.
Vero smirked. “Okay, try it, then.”
“Well, I bet it’s somewhere hip, but up-and-coming. I doubt it’s somewhere as obvious as West Hollywood, but not far off,” Billie said, wrinkling her forehead in thought.
Vero watched, internally agreeing with her, but trying not to show it.
“I don’t think you’re a Malibu or Beverly Hills person,” Billie said. "I think you try to live somewhere a little more inconspicuous than that.”
Vero felt the edge of her mouth pulling up in a tug.
“So, my guess is a penthouse somewhere very cool, where you can look down on everything, but no one can peek through your windows. Silverlake is my guess,” Billie said, moving her finger in the air as though she was checking a box.
“Wow, so, you really are a stalker,” Vero laughed, impressed. “Though, to be fair, I don’t spend much time there.”
“Why not?” Billie asked.
Vero made a motion with her hand as though she was holding a camera in front of her face and mimed taking a picture with a click of her tongue.
“Ah,” Billie said in understanding. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
“Creepy,” Vero said, shaking her head. “Super creepy. Men follow me around and hide to take pictures of me. And that’s legal, somehow? I hate it.”
“And yet, you still want to be famous?” Billie asked.
Vero stared up at the sky, considering the question. Clouds had rolled in since their arrival.
“I still want to make music. I didn’t think I was signing away my entire right to a normal life by being good at what I do,” Vero countered.
Billie pressed her mouth into a thin line, nodding.
“You don’t believe me?” Vero asked. She watched Billie’s face redden.
“I didn’t say that,” Billie said, holding her hands up in quick surrender.
“But you don’t,” Vero pressed. She could tell by Billie’s silence and lack of acknowledgment that she thought Vero was just like the rest of the people wandering around LA, wanting desperately to get their fame, whatever the cost.
“I think you make some… public choices,” Billie said slowly, as though she was carefully choosing her words.
“Like what?” Vero pressed.
“Like saying you date all genders, but then only dating famous guys to—“ Billie began, but stopped, shaking her head. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”
“Dating famous guys to what? To get on magazine covers? Why is my love life so up for discussion? Why do people who have never met me get to have an opinion?” Vero said, her voice rising in anger.
She glared up at Billie.
Billie sighed. “I didn’t say that you give people permission to talk about you. I just think you always give them something to talk about,” she said.
“There’s a difference?” Vero said, watching Billie pull on her sneakers without socks.
“I think you probably pay people a lot of money to make sure there’s a difference,” Billie said, shrugging.
Vero’s heart pounded in her chest.
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance and both women looked up at the sky.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Vero asked, climbing out of the hot springs. She knew from experience that storms in the mountains moved quickly, and they’d be caught in a potential downpour if they didn’t hurry back — not to mention the danger of lighting at that elevation She mentally kicked herself for not checking the weather before agreeing to take Billie so far away from home.
“Forget it,” Billie mumbled, pushing her hair back from her face.
Vero pulled her shirt over her head and slipped on her shorts. It would be uncomfortable to hike back with her damp bikini under her clothes, but it wouldn’t be the first time.
Did Billie really think that she enjoyed the paparazzi? That she enjoyed every detail of her life being considered by strangers who only got the facts that TMZ or Us Weekly wanted them to know?
Or did Billie assume that Vero had very carefully orchestrated the paparazzi appearances to make sure that she and Lara weren’t found out?
Vero wasn’t stupid. She had seen the online fandoms “shipping” her and Lara. They even had a couple name: Vera. Thinking about it now made Vero’s chest clench in pain. That nickname had once made them smile, and now she couldn’t think of any worse torture.
She balanced on one foot, putting on her sock, then the other, and stepped into her hiking boots, tying them as quickly as
she could. She undid her bun and tugged on her hat.
She just wanted to get back, forget that they had ever had a good time in one another's company, and get the stupid song written so that Billie and her probing questions and her knowing looks and the way she made Vero want to open up to her could be out of her life for good.
They marched back to the trail in silence, and Vero took zero care to make sure the branches she was pushing out of her way didn’t whip Billie in the face behind her. It’d serve her right.
Their nice time had taken a turn just as suddenly as the weather.
Was she reading too much into Billie’s words? Was she being paranoid?
Vero felt a single raindrop on her arm. She looked around the vast pine forests that surrounded them, then tried to judge the color of the cloud immediately above her. Maybe it would just sprinkle.
She picked up her pace, trying to outrun the storm. Maybe trying to outrun Billie.
How had she been cursed with a visit from the most perceptive woman she had ever met? She felt transparent around Billie, and she hated it.
They walked on in silence and Vero could hear Billie’s labored breathing behind her. “Hurry up, or we’re going to get soaked,” Vero chided, but immediately felt guilty.
“I’m trying,” Billie said, the words sounding as though they were coming out through clenched teeth.
They were less than half of a mile from the house when the rain started to come down in earnest.
They both broke into a quick jog — Vero worried that Billie might pass out if she pressed the pace much harder — and by the time they reached the house, they were drenched.
Vero opened the back door, not waiting for Billie before walking in and kicking off her boots.
“You look terrible,” her dad said from the kitchen, but she didn’t look up as she trudged through the great room to the stairs. “And you look like a cat who fell into a bathtub.” He said behind her.
“Charming, Mr. Lucas,” Billie growled, and Vero didn’t hear her footsteps slow.
“Jam later, ladies?” Her dad called out.
Neither of the women answered.