Fakers

by Meg Collett

  Her eyes widened. “Hale!” she accused, but she laughed. “That’s awful!”

  His mouth pulled sideways in a crooked, knowing grin. “I would’ve preferred if my whole crew hadn’t seen. We’ll have to spend all day tomorrow fixing the mistakes they made this afternoon because you were all they could think about.”

  Kyra blushed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hey, Hale!” Stevie shouted, leaning around Kyra. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. Good to see ya, Stevie,” Hale said with a polite nod of his head. It was odd coming from a man who looked like him, but it warmed Kyra’s heart. His hand grazed her arm, skimming the skin gently. She shivered.

  “I hear you’re a peeping Tom,” Stevie said.

  Kyra turned and gaped at her friend, but Hale laughed. “Kyra shouldn’t go around flashing everybody. That’s what she gets.”

  Stevie died laughing as Kyra smacked Hale’s chest, but it only made her palm sting. His chest was rock hard. He looked down at her, his eyes dark in the bar as his hand made another tickling trail down her arm. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

  “Want to dance?” Hale asked, leaning close to her ear again. His breath was warm and fresh against the skin of her neck, and she imagined what it would feel like to have his fingers caressing the sensitive spot below her ear. The only coherent gesture she managed was a nod.

  He took her hand and helped her down from her stool. “I’m going to go dance with Hale,” she shouted at Stevie, who waved them off.

  Hale led her down the back wall to the dance floor. Kyra squeezed past the bar’s patrons, thankful that Hale seemed to cut a path before him. She saw the stares of a few men as she passed, but she ignored them. Her eyes were focused on the wide, flexing muscles of Hale’s back.

  Once on the floor, he turned and pulled her into him. There wasn’t much room for dancing, but they made do in the small space. Kyra felt herself pressed against every inch of his body. She ran her hand up his chest as she wrapped her other arm around his neck.

  His hands were on her hips, holding her to him as they moved to the music. It wasn’t exactly a slow song, but there wasn’t much room for actual dancing. Not that Kyra minded. Hale’s fingers found the bare expanse of her back where her shirt had raised.

  Her hand skimmed from his chest to the muscular swell of his shoulder and back. She smiled, watching him watch her. His head was bowed toward her, cocooning her in his embrace. She felt completely hidden with him, like he was blocking her from everyone’s stares, which meant he had seen the other guys checking her out, and he didn’t like it. The thought made Kyra happy.

  But then Hale’s eyes caught something over her shoulder. She noticed the stiffening of his muscles beneath her hands, and his body stilled against hers. A hooded anger seemed to slip into his eyes as he focused on whatever was happening behind her.

  “What is it?” Kyra shouted over the band, but Hale didn’t respond.

  He released her and slid past, his body slicing through the other dancers easily. The fury radiated off of him like steaming pavement on a hot day. Kyra followed his line of vision and saw Cade talking to a burly guy with a large beer gut.

  The guy was clearly in Cade’s face about something. Cade tried to hold his ground, but his eyes were wide. He didn’t see Hale barreling toward him, and neither did the guy, Kyra figured. He wouldn’t be laughing at Cade if he’d seen Hale coming.

  He clearly didn’t see the fist, either. Hale took the guy down with one swing. Then it turned into a brawl, with Hale’s crew jumping in to take down beer-gut guy’s friends. Bouncers rushed over and tried to break up the fight while women screamed and guys howled their approval. The band stopped mid-song, knowing they couldn’t compete with a bar fight. The sound of fists hitting flesh could be heard like an echo between the cheering and hooting.

  Not knowing what else to do in the jostling madness, Kyra made her way back to Stevie, who was watching the fight with bland interest while she sipped on her Long Island. “What did you do?” she screamed into Kyra’s ear when she finally took her spot next to Stevie again. All around, people were jostling about to get a better view of the fight.

  “I didn’t do anything!”

  “Well, that’s not nearly as exciting as I hoped.” Stevie huffed out in disappointment.

  The bouncers had the fight separated, and everyone was being escorted out. Hale didn’t look back over to Kyra and Stevie as he left in the grips of a burly security guy. Cade hurriedly settled their tab. As he turned to leave, he saw Kyra and Stevie. He waved and mouthed “sorry” before he rushed out after Hale.

  “He’ll probably be in jail for the weekend.”

  Kyra looked up at Troy, who had just spoken. “They’re going to put him in jail?” she shouted above the rowdy crowd.

  “They always put Hale Cooper in jail,” Troy said with a sneer. “Even if he didn’t throw the first punch.”

  Stevie rolled her eyes. “Or even if he didn’t throw any punch at all. The prim and proper of Canaan Island like to see the likes of Hale Cooper in jail. It lets them sleep better at night.”

  “But that’s bullshit!” Kyra exclaimed, feeling so angry that she allowed herself to curse.

  “Indeed, my friend. Indeed.”

  “Why won’t he make bail tonight?”

  Troy shrugged. “Small towns. Judges don’t work on weekends.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  Troy nodded in agreement and slid Stevie another drink. Kyra pulled out her phone and texted Cade. As she waited for him to text back, she fiddled with her bracelets, but when she didn’t hear back from him for the rest of the night, she took it as a sign that, no, everything was not all right.

  eight

  It was finally the weekend, and Kyra normally took Saturdays off from work to unwind. Except today wasn’t as relaxing as she’d hoped since she was up early ripping out weeds and pruning ruthlessly in her front garden. She hacked and pulled, ripped and tugged. She fell onto her butt with a muffled oath. Almost feverishly, she swiped her brow, spreading dirt across her face, and dug back in.

  She was relieving tension, and hacking tended to relieve tension.

  “Good morning, Kyra.”

  Kyra jerked and peered up through the overgrown bush she was currently trying to tear in half. Spotting the ample hips of Mrs. Walker, she stood and pulled off a glove to shake hands with the woman.

  “Morning, Mrs. Walker. How are you today?”

  “Just stretching my legs,” Mrs. Walker said with a sniff. She tucked an imaginary piece of loose hair behind her ear.

  “It’s a good day for it,” Kyra said, trying to sound nice. Truth was that all she could think about was Hale sitting in a jail cell. And it pissed her off.

  “Right. Well, I just wanted to come by and see if you’d heard about the…incident with Hale Cooper.”

  “Incident?” Kyra asked through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, yes. I figured you would want to know since he’s your contractor and all.” Mrs. Walker looked around as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her bit of gossip. Kyra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “But he was arrested last night. For getting into a fight. At a bar!”

  Kyra thought about smiling and joking or doing something just as fake, but she thought about Hale and decided against it. “Yeah, I know. I was there.”

  Mrs. Walker couldn’t recover in time to keep the horror from her face. “Nice girls don’t go to bars, Kyra. I would hope that you would want a respectable contractor to work on your house. I would also hope that you would value the Aberdeen name enough to not be seen in places where there are bar fights.”

  Mrs. Walker looked about two seconds away from shaking her finger in Kyra’s face. Before she could, Kyra cut her off. “I’ve learned that the most respectable people are normally the biggest assholes. And as far as the Aberdeen name goes, well, I don’t really give a flying shit about that either.”

  “I…I…” Mrs. Walker’s mouth fla
pped opened and closed like a fly trap. “I’m going to be relaying this conversation to your grandmother!”

  “Fantastic! Be sure to tell her I say ‘hello.’”

  Kyra felt a little giddy with herself as she watched Mrs. Walker turn seven different shades of red before she turned and stalked off. Pulling her gardening glove back on, Kyra realized she felt better than she had all morning. Maybe she needed to be rude more often. With a grunt, she went back to work.

  She tore out one particularly ferocious weed and tried to examine the root of her anger like her therapist would have her do. If she was being honest with herself, she knew part of her frustration was sexual. She would’ve slept with Hale last night if it’d gone that far. She didn’t know what that said about her, or if it even said anything, but she found the thought confusing. She didn’t know how she should feel about her attraction to Hale, especially after their rocky start.

  Forcing Hale from her thoughts, she worked until lunchtime, when the sun was stifling and sweat was running down her back. She put up her tools and pushed the wheelbarrow full of torn weeds to the back of the house where she’d set up her composting bin. When everything was put up and as tidy as possible, Kyra went inside and took a lightning-fast shower in her exposed bathroom.

  She hung up a towel over the window, but it did little to comfort her unease. She was in and out in under three minutes—a new record for her. She snickered, thinking she could make a video on snappy showers.

  She pulled on her uniform of shorts and a tank before she ran a brush through her wet hair. She always gave herself a break on Saturdays, meaning no makeup and no doing hair. She twisted her long blond locks up into a high bun and left the house, feeling better than she had all day.

  When Stevie answered her door at Kyra’s insistent knocking, she was wearing a pair of sunglasses and a hood pulled up over her head. Kyra looked at her friend and laughed. “Is this what you’re wearing to go antiquing?”

  Stevie groaned. “That’s today?” her voice cracked, and Kyra was treated to a ferocious fog of bad breath, which she waved away with a crinkled nose.

  “We just talked about this yesterday,” Kyra reminded her.

  “Ugh. I forgot about it in all the excitement.” Stevie turned away and left the door open for Kyra. “Let me change then.”

  “And brush your teeth!” Kyra called after her.

  After a shower of both body and mouth, lots of coffee, and a pep talk, Stevie trailed behind Kyra as they entered a building salvage warehouse. She still wore her sunglasses, even in the dim building. “How are you even functioning right now?”

  They’d stayed out late last night because Stevie had wanted to stay until the end of Troy’s shift. Kyra waited with her friend, drinking water and warding off increasingly frisky, wayward hands as the night wore on. Finally, Troy got off, and Kyra could leave her friend, knowing she was safe and had a designated driver. Maybe that made her a prude, but she was already fond of Stevie and wanted the best for her.

  “I drank water instead of Long Islands by the gallons,” Kyra said, her attention on the ceiling. She gaped up at all the amazing old light fixtures above her head. A particular chandelier with tons of draping crystals caught her eye. It was a little over the top, but Kyra fell in love.

  “And who had more fun?”

  Kyra snorted. “Yeah, you really look like you had a lot of fun last night.”

  “Oh, I did. I’m just paying for it today. Nothing comes for free,” Stevie muttered. Her voice was far away and drew Kyra’s attention. She didn’t know much about Stevie’s past or her parents, but Stevie had talked at length about her family last night after a few too many Long Islands.

  “Stevie,” she started, unsure of how to proceed. “Have you talked to your parents lately?”

  Stevie dropped the tassel of the lamp she was playing with. Her covered eyes glanced at Kyra. “What do you mean?”

  Kyra took a deep breath. “You just talked a lot about them last night, and it sounded like you were pretty bitter.”

  She couldn’t see to know for sure, but it looked like Stevie rolled her eyes behind her massive glasses. “‘Bitter’ is an understatement. They’re idiots.”

  “Because of the reality shows?”

  Stevie meandered down the aisle ahead of Kyra. “Yeah. They sell their souls to make another spinoff. It’s gross, and they go broke trying to produce these things because no one else cares about them anymore. It’s pathetic, really. They’re so desperate to be relevant that they will do anything for the spotlight.”

  “That’s pretty sad,” Kyra said, feeling for her friend.

  Stevie shrugged. “I’ve learned to stay out of their damage path.”

  Kyra let the subject drop for now because she didn’t want to push too far. She moved on to a row of mirrors, her fingers trailing over the dusty frames. She couldn’t even begin to image what kind of pain Stevie must feel to always come second to her parents’ fame. Maybe that was why she and Stevie got along so well; they had a lot of things in common, and they both lived a life of hurt.

  “What’s up with you and Hale?” Stevie asked, animated now that they weren’t talking about her.

  “Nothing much at all,” Kyra grumbled. She looked at the price tag of one mirror. She grimaced and moved on.

  “That was a pretty hot dance y’all had, even if it was cut short.” Stevie found a bin of old cabinet knobs. “Oh! Kyra, these are cute!” She held up a pair of sea glass knobs.

  Kyra snatched them away from her. “These are. What else is in there?” They sorted through the knobs, finding and matching an assortment of bright colors for the kitchen. Kyra put them in her basket.

  “He’s been friendlier lately at the house, but that was the first time he actually acted like he wanted to be around me. Of course, that was before he just went off and punched someone,” Kyra said, returning to their previous conversation. “Do you know the guy Hale punched?”

  “He’s a local guy, probably went to school with Cade and Hale, but I don’t know their past or anything. Do you want to defend your crush’s honor or something?” Stevie chuckled.

  “I just wish I knew what set him off.” Kyra whirled around, startling her friend. “Be honest with me, Stevie. Am I crazy for being interested in him? I mean, I literally thought he hated me earlier this week.” She thought for a second. “Actually, he still might, I don’t know.”

  Stevie frowned at Kyra’s question. “No way. You’re not crazy. Maybe a sadist or something ‘cause guys like Hale are just heartache waiting to happen.”

  Kyra let out a huff of frustration. “He always seems so frustrated with me, like I’m not his type or something.”

  Stevie sighed, working her fingers through the tangles in her long auburn hair. “Kyra, I don’t know what to tell you. Any normal guy would be all over you.”

  “That’s the thing,” Kyra said, shaking her head, “Hale isn’t just any normal guy. I can tell he’s different.”

  “There’s your problem. Stick with what you know.” Stevie wagged her finger at Kyra like she was an errant child.

  “That’s kind of another problem,” she said carefully. “I’m a virgin.”

  Stevie took a moment to process her words, but when she did, her mouth dropped open. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Stevie practically shouted. Kyra shushed her. “You don’t drink, and you’re a virgin?”

  This was exactly the reaction Kyra was expecting. It’s why she never told anyone. “I’m not a goody two-shoes. I’ve, like, done stuff. So it’s not like I’m a prude. And I used to drink a lot in high school. It didn’t get me anything but trouble. So I quit.” Kyra’s voice trailed off as she went, but she reminded herself she was going to be different and open up with her friends. “My mom died in prison because she was a drug addict. My drinking was starting to feel a little uncontrollable, so I stopped. And I haven’t done it since.”

  Stevie’s mouth closed, and she took a moment to recover. Kyra knew she
’d dumped a lot on her at once, so she waited, her hand running across old cabinets. “And you don’t want to be like her?”

  “That’s why I’m like this,” Kyra gestured to herself, pinning a cheesy, fake smile on her face. “I don’t want to be anything like her. But sometimes, like when I drink or do other…stuff, I feel like I’ll end up just like her.”

  “Shit, Kyra. I’m sorry to hear that. And I’m a bitch for all those remarks I made about you not drinking.”

  “No, Stevie,” Kyra said. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t tell a lot of people that.”

  Stevie nodded. She took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were red, and black circles shadowed underneath her skin, but she looked at Kyra with sincerity. “Look, if you’re a virgin, I’d tell you to back away from Hale Cooper. I mean, it’s okay to have a crush, but give it some time and space, you know? Don’t rush into anything with him. You saw what he did last night. He’s different.”

  Kyra nodded, thinking. “You’re right. I think I just got carried away with him. He’s really the first guy that’s interested me besides silly high school crushes.”

  “I get it, trust me. Just be careful. Those kinds of guys can ruin you.” The way Stevie pursed her lips and turned away to pull her glasses back on had Kyra wondering if she’d had her own run-in with a guy like Hale.

  “I will. Thanks for the advice.” Kyra slung her arm around Stevie as they headed down the next row of salvaged goods.

  “Just remember that the next time Hale Cooper shakes his tight ass in front of you.”

  * * *

  Kyra spent her Sunday soaking in her upstairs bathtub and enjoying the sun. She read a book, listened to some great music, and went to dinner with Stevie. By the end of the day, she was starting to feel human again, and she hadn’t thought that much about Hale or the fight.

  But she was now. He was all she could think about. She’d drifted to the front bedroom, hovering at the door and staring down at the piles of albums. There was her mother’s entire life, laid out before Kyra. It was a lot to take in and a lot to handle. Her therapist probably would have told her something prolific about facing her past and accepting where she’d come from, but that all seemed silly to think about when this great epiphany was supposed to just come from some old, musty albums.