Mr. Real

by Carolyn Crane

  Outrageously happy. Deliriously happy.

  Paul slammed a right cross into the bag, then a left hook. Another right, a left, a right. He repeated the sequence, putting his whole body into it—every ligament and tendon and fiber of his being.

  Why couldn’t Sir Kendall just disappear?

  He rounded in another kick to the clank of Tonio’s weightlifting in the corner.

  And all he’d done was alienate her, thrust her into more danger. Tonio came around to stabilize the bag for him. This small kindness made Paul feel even more like a jerk.

  He kicked until he felt the exhaustion grow. He kicked until his legs shook, until he collapsed on the mat.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled to Tonio.

  Tonio shuffled away.

  Sir Kendall was back. Maybe forever. Paul needed to earn Alix’s trust. He needed to man-up and handle Sir Kendall. He knew what that meant. He’d been a student of Veecha’s long enough to know that the thing you most needed to do was always the thing you least wanted to do.

  Your greatest opponent and you know nothing of him.

  He didn’t know the first thing about Sir Kendall. The thought of knowing him repulsed Paul, but he had to do this thing. Alix needed him to handle this.

  To know Sir Kendall, he needed to open himself to Sir Kendall. What did that mean specifically? Learn about him. Spend time with him.

  You can’t get an opening if you aren’t inside, Veecha had taught him.

  Paul had always resorted to strength to deal with Sir Kendall, using everything he had to push him away. But this required the opposite of strength. He had to stop girding himself against the blows. No—he needed to be indifferent to them. Which would require a certain amount of vulnerability.

  Vulnerability. That’s what he’d been missing. He knew it was right because the idea of bringing any kind of vulnerability to Sir Kendall felt like poison in his veins.

  Paul stared up at the ceiling. The fixture he’d chosen, the best he could find, had a full spectrum bulb in it. She would never know, but it mattered to him. He wanted good things for her. There was so much he wanted to do for her.

  Metal clanked on metal—Tonio on the bench. Paul closed his eyes and just stood there, remembering the way Alix had put the ointment onto his lip last night. The soft caress of her fingertips. The way she’d smoothed the stuff onto his cheek, his chest. Being touched by her felt like heaven.

  Because he loved her.

  For the rest of the day, Paul tried to monitor Sir Kendall in a new way—from a perspective of curiosity instead of antagonism. He would get to know him. He would get inside. That had to be the way to vanquish him.

  Sir Kendall ran more mysterious errands in his car. He seemed to be procuring equipment. Was he building something? What did he actually do with his time? What did he want in life?

  He thought about walking over and just asking Sir Kendall, one man to another, but he couldn’t.

  Alix seemed to be stripping woodwork in one of the far bedrooms. He could hear the rhythmic sanding, and he saw her pass by the open window now and then.

  Tonio left at around four to get ready for a date with the motel girl. Soon after, Alix came out with Lindy. She stopped at the threshold of the garage. She wore shorts and a pink top and sneakers, and her socks were pulled up all the way to her knees. He wanted to kiss every inch of her.

  “It looks great,” she said.

  He nodded, wiping his hands and face with a towel. “Thanks.”

  “But don’t think it makes up for your being happy to think he was dead,” she added.

  “Does it make up for me being a jerk about it at least?”

  “Hmm.” A smile in her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “So you want to go for a walk with me and Lindy?”

  He did. Very much.

  They set off into the woods, down the path that led through brambles and up toward the bluff. They walked in silence.

  “I know how awful it must be for you to see him every day,” she finally said. “I’m so sorry, I really am. It meant so much, what you told me last night, and I can only imagine—”

  “It’s fine,” he interrupted. “I’m handling it.”

  “I don’t want it to be hard—”

  “It’s fine,” he said firmly. “You hear from your friend?”

  “Yeah. No progress. She’s going through some ginormous code manuals using the process of deduction.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Alix picked up a stick and threw it for Lindy. “I don’t know. But she does, and that’s the important thing.”

  “You find your other missing stuff?”

  She grinned sheepishly. The pale light coming through the tree canopy made her skin look glowy and warm. He wanted desperately to touch her. “It turns out I left the boots in my office,” she said.

  “Oops,” Paul said.

  “And obviously Sir Kendall is still around. He told me he drove off quietly so as not to wake us. But the necklace is definitely gone. And I locked my bedroom door last night. I don’t understand how that necklace can be gone.”

  “You think Sir Kendall can’t pick a lock?”

  “Sir Kendall values answers, not money.”

  “Maybe he took it to get appraised. That’s answers.”

  “He’d ask me. He knows I don’t care about it that much.”

  Paul picked up a stick. “This looks Lindy-sized.”

  “That’s a perfect one,” Alix said. “Throw it.

  He threw it. Lindy bounded into the brush. When he looked back, Alix was smiling. “What?”

  “I just can’t believe how your face healed.”

  “Apparently, the things your computer orders aren’t everyday things. Apparently they’re supernaturally powerful.”

  “The salve sure is,” she said.

  “And what’s he up to with all the stuff from the hardware store and Radio Shack? What’s he up to in his room?”

  “I’m guessing he’s building some spy gadget.”

  “So you don’t know what? We need to get in there and find out.”

  “Let me handle it.”

  “I’ll ask him.”

  “No, Paul, I’m on it. I want you to stay away from him. I want you to trust that I’m being vigilant about Sir Kendall. It’s not like I’m ignoring your story. It’s making me really think.”

  “But here’s the thing,” Paul said. “I’ve decided I need to get to know him. He’s here, and I don’t even know him as a person. Maybe I even find common ground with him. I mean, we both care about you.” Supposedly, he thought.

  “You’re not getting know him. No.”

  “That first day, I promised I wouldn’t attack him or tell him who he is. You never said I couldn’t be friends with him.”

  “Friends?” She snorted. “Seriously?”

  “Maybe he could use a male friend.”

  “Not one that hates him.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t hate him if I got to know him.”

  “Forget it.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, but you lost your right to control him when you brought him into this world. You want people to treat him as a human? Then you have to let him act like one, which includes picking his friends. You can’t have it both ways. He can’t be a regular human, but you say who his friends are.”

  “You don’t want to be his friend.”

  “I want to get to know him. I’m going to see if he wants to hang out tonight.”

  “No,” she warned. “You can’t.”

  Paul grabbed another stick. “We’ll see what Sir Kendall has to say about that. I bet he wants to hang out with me. He wanted me at dinner.”

  When he looked over, she wasn’t there. She crouched on the ground a few feet back, staring at something. “Fuck,” she said softly.

  Had she dropped something? Lindy tried to sniff at the spot and she pushed Lindy’s nose. “Get away.” She sounded upset.

  “What is it?” He knelt beside her.

&nb
sp; “Nothing. I just…” she motioned at a small form, no larger than a wine cork. A tiny, dead baby bird. And then she burst into tears. “I don’t know why it seems so sad, suddenly.”

  “Hey.” He put an arm around her.

  She sniffled through her tears. “I know it’s just a bird,” she said.

  “It’s okay. It’s sad.”

  She wiped her eyes. “It just couldn’t fly, you know?”

  He kissed her hair. She was so beautiful. She didn’t even know it.

  “Its little wings. They weren’t enough. Just not enough.” The idea of this seemed to make her sadder. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

  He felt the charge in her words. They weren’t enough. Just not enough. And some things came to him then. Like why she’d ordered a fake man for herself, as if she couldn’t measure up for a real one. And he saw her sisters overshadowing her. And how she made a game of everything. She didn’t make games of things because she didn’t care. She did it because she cared too much. She would do anything for her people. And then he had the stunning thought that the bird was her heart.

  Crouching there beside her, he touched his thumb to her cheek and wiped off a tear. “It never had a chance, that’s all. But it was always enough. It was always perfect.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  He pulled her up, kissed another tear off her cheek. “You’re perfect.”

  She sniffle-laughed. “Stop it.”

  He kissed another tear off her cheek. “And beautiful.”

  “Paul.”

  He pushed his shaking fingers into her pink hair, cupping the back of her head, looking into her amber eyes. “You were always perfect.” Then he leaned in and kissed her.

  He felt her grab on to his shoulders. Yes, he wanted to say, grab on to me. He kneeled just a little, to get to her height, then get in closer, tighter. She felt so good and warm against him and she tasted salty sweet. He pulled her body harder to his as he deepened the kiss.

  She seemed almost to melt into him, breasts pressed against his chest. He dragged his lips across hers, coaxed open her mouth, tasted her more deeply.

  She pushed her fingers under his belt.

  God, he wanted her. He loved her and he wanted to tell her so. He wanted to give her everything. He kissed her hungrily, then slowed. He couldn’t give her everything. Sir Kendall was like a stain that poisoned what he had to give.

  He pulled away. “I’m going to handle Sir Kendall.”

  She panted, regarding him wildly. “What?”

  “Trust me.”

  She looked confused—reeling from the kiss. “But you want him gone.”

  His heart pounded. He wished he could say no, it’s not true, but it was true. “We’ll help him together,” Paul said. “I need to spend time with him.”

  She squinted. “Was the kiss supposed to change my mind?”

  “The kiss made me more resolved, Alix. I’m going to make this right.”

  “Well, you can’t be his new best friend. The answer’s still no.”

  “And it’s still not up to you.”

  She frowned. She couldn’t stop him, and she knew it.

  And with that they turned back.

  Paul showered and changed. When he got down to the kitchen, Alix was standing over a kettle of popcorn. Sir Kendall relaxed at the small table in the corner, smiling mysteriously.

  “Do I smell popcorn?” Paul asked.

  “Indeed you do, old chap,” Sir Kendall said.

  Alix turned to him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Yeah, right here.” Paul opened the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and twisted off the cap. She bit her lip. The kiss was thick between them now. He wondered if Sir Kendall could tell. “What’s the movie?”

  “Porn,” she said. “You’re not invited.”

  He smiled. “Nobody makes popcorn for porn.”

  She turned back to the stove, but her dimples were showing. He turned to Sir Kendall. “You don’t mind me joining you, do you?”

  “By all means,” Sir Kendall said.

  “Thanks for the ointment, by the way. Amazing stuff.”

  “Always worked for me. On the more persistent injuries. It’s from a little apothecary in the highlands. Recipe passed down and all that.”

  Paul nodded, wishing Sir Kendall just wasn’t so….Sir Kendall-ish. He grabbed the bag of red-hots from the counter. “How’s about a refresh on that Denali?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Sir Kendall held out his glass. Paul topped it off, as though the man was a friend or neighbor, and not a disturbing doppelganger who embodied Paul’s worst nightmares, a man who besmirched all goodness with a dark stain. He would get to the other side. He had to.

  “We really did get off on the wrong foot,” Paul said, screwing the cap back on. “I want things to be different.”

  “You can’t always get what you want.” Alix said.

  Paul continued to address Sir Kendall. “I feel like we could get to know each other and find some sort of common ground.”

  Sir Kendall shrugged. “I’d hear what you have to say.”

  I’d hear what you have to say.

  Alix seemed to bite back a smile at Sir Kendall’s imperious tone.

  Paul nodded. Act sane, dammit! “I appreciate that.”

  “This is already delightful,” Alix said. The popcorn pops slowed. Alix gave the pot a shake, then dumped it into a big green bowl.

  The three of them moved out to the living room.

  Sir Kendall settled himself next to her on the couch. “You’ll forgive me for finding the idea of common ground a bit, oh, dubious.”

  Paul’s heart raced. He leaned forward and took a handful of popcorn. “I don’t know anything about you, that’s all. Seems silly to be at odds.”

  Sir Kendall seemed to find this amusing. “Old chap, my divulging information isn’t quite my idea of finding common ground.”

  Paul focused on chewing, on the taste of the salty kernels, determined not to give in to the hatred. “I don’t mean information as in spy stuff,” Paul said. “I mean regular stuff. Normal things.” What was he asking? He didn’t know. He needed to stay open to possibilities, as Veecha had taught him.

  Sir Kendall narrowed his eyes, smug and assessing.

  Paul took a ragged breath. He was practically prostrating himself to the man! “I’m only trying to transform our relationship here.”

  “Suddenly be on my side,” Sir Kendall said.

  “Yes.”

  “Give me something real on Hyko and I might be inclined to believe you.”

  “I don’t know about any Hyko,” Paul said.

  “Pity.”

  “Maybe we could help each other on a personal level. I mean, look at us. We’re identical in so many ways…”

  Sir Kendall smirked. “You were thinking to give me some pointers, perhaps? Comportment? Manners? The ways of the world?”

  Paul hated the sound of Sir Kendall’s voice, hated the smile in it. Hated him. Maybe he couldn’t do this. He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “There’s no butter on this popcorn.”

  Alix snorted. “And that’s just a small sampling of the valuable information Paul can give you. Time for our main feature.” She grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV.

  Sir Kendall seemed intrigued by the TV.

  “Maybe you could come out and take a run with Tonio and me tomorrow. We found a great route over the ridge. Or you could teach me something about jewels or whatever.”

  “We’ll see about that, old chap.” Sir Kendall sounded amused.

  Paul gritted his teeth, held up his hands in a sort of surrender. “Maybe we just share popcorn and watch a movie together. Can we start with that?”

  Sir Kendall shrugged.

  Paul forced his attention to the TV, frustrated. It was as if Sir Kendall was deliberately provoking him. And then it came to him: Sir Kendall was provoking him; he wanted him angry. Paul found the idea to be liberating. He w
ould not give Sir Kendall what he wanted.

  When the previews were over the movie itself came on. Dumb & Dumber. Paul widened his eyes at Alix. That’s what she chose?

  She caught his look and smiled at him broadly, giving him a little shrug of the shoulders as if to say, what the hell else was she supposed to pick?

  Two imbeciles outwitting a criminal. Paul lifted his eyebrows, as if to say, really? He saw the minute it occurred to her that Sir Kendall might take it in some weird way—she twisted her lips to one side, turned her eyes to the other. Uh oh.

  Paul wanted to laugh. He loved the way her faces formed a running commentary on every incident. He enjoyed this expression, though his favorite was her look of daffy surprise, where she’d part her lips as if in shock, curling her bottom lip a tiny bit over her teeth, and her eyes would be dancing with humor.

  And he loved how most people in her situation would’ve stressed over the perfect movie to show and come up with something serious and informational for the betterment of Sir Kendall. But not Alix. No, she chose the fun movie She smiled at him again.

  And he loved how terrible she was at holding a grudge. And how her body had felt against his. He watched her watch the movie.

  A funny Jim Carrey moment came on. It made her laugh, but Sir Kendall looked perplexed. He didn’t see the humor, but Alix did, and she laughed like the wild, free flower that she was.

  After the thing was over, Alix disappeared into the kitchen for dessert.

  Paul stood and went to her shelf of DVDs. He wanted to see her music and books and movies. Alix liked comedies. And romantic comedies. Sir Kendall remained on the couch, but Paul could feel his stare.

  “What kind of movies do you like, Sir Kendall? I don’t mean specific titles,” he added quickly, remembering Alix saying something about his scant pop culture memory. “But, are you more of a man for tragedies, or adventures, or documentaries?”

  Sir Kendall rose and strode over to where Paul stood.

  “If you have a specific question, Paul, why not just ask me outright?” Sir Kendall’s eyes twinkled merrily.

  “I don’t have a specific question.”

  “Oh, come now,” Sir Kendall said.

  Paul didn’t like the triumphant twinkle in Sir Kendall’s eyes. He’s trying to provoke you, he told himself.