Seven Books for Seven Lovers

by Molly Harper, Stephanie Haefner, Liora Blake, Gabra Zackman, Andrea Laurence, Colette Auclair

  Now what?

  I didn’t drive here, so I can’t just leave. I could sit here and then blast anyone with paint who even dares to pop their head over the rim. That might actually feel good.

  I look at the paint zapper and consider it for a moment. I haven’t fired it at all. It’s full and Ellie left her ammo packs. I feel a fizzy twinge of adrenaline.

  Maybe.

  The noise around me suddenly breaks through my mind’s fog. I still hear screams and zips from flybys, although the herd has thinned. I hear Patrick Swayze’s line from Dirty Dancing. No one puts Baby in a corner. And nobody puts Kenzi in a tire. Or a marriage. Or their version of what my life should be. Years of people-pleasing and frustration is bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

  I let it.

  Grabbing Ellie’s ammo, I sling it over my shoulder. Slowly, I peek up to scan the field.

  “Kenzi?” It’s Ellie. She’s sniffling. The voice is faint. She never left. She’s crouched down on the far side of the tires. “I’m sorry. I love you. You’re my best friend.” Her words are jumbled together and come out fast. “I overheard Tonya on the phone and didn’t know who she was talking to, but then she said Bradley’s name. I would have told you, I swear.”

  One quick glance around and I flip myself over the tire to join her. Her eyes are puffy and red. My own tears are starting up again. I blink them away. I need to stay focused.

  “It’s okay. I get it. I love you, too.” I place my hand on Ellie’s shoulder and give it a determined shake. “You wanna make it up to me? Cover me.”

  Her face first reads relief, then panic. “What?” Her red eyes are rounded.

  “I’m going in,” I yell over my shoulder and run. I leap over a strategically placed fallen tree and head to the pile of stacked wooden skids. I hear Ellie screaming as she runs after me.

  Yellow paint zings past my ear.

  It splatters a little on my uniform. I turn my shooter to the guy who fired it. He’s running and . . . ha, sucker!

  “Take that!” I scream at the guy, who I don’t even know. He’s covered in a slew of purple blobs. That felt good. I keep shooting him as I make my way to the next fort.

  The guy’s screaming, “I’m out, stop!”

  I don’t. In fact, I zap one last blow of purple in his direction. He’s lucky I’m not a good shot.

  We’re just on the other side of where Bradley and Clive are holed up. Rand is firing at Bradley. Good. Get him. I see Shane. Another round of fire, and someone ninja-rolls to another barricade.

  “Kenzi!” Ellie’s pushing me to move as two guys charge our way with weapons blazing. We run screaming, but then I see Tonya. She’s near the sidelines, still suited up, chatting with clients. Cue the theme music, something loud and edgy, it’s go time.

  I stand.

  “What are you doing?” Ellie’s pulling at my sleeve to get me to crouch, but I’m not budging.

  I start walking toward her.

  “Kenz!”

  I’m picking up speed.

  I’m charging.

  I fire.

  This is where the movie would go slow-mo. Purple ammo would zip from my paint marker in streams of moving color with precision accuracy. However, this isn’t a movie and I’m by no means accurate. I spray the ground, hit a lawn chair, then another, and almost hit the client near it.

  “Kenzi, stop!” Bradley’s yelling, frantically waving his arms.

  I don’t. I’m focused on the backside of the scheming, two-faced target running away from me. Tent pole, someone’s duffel, ha! Got her leg! Ha! Got her other leg!

  “Wait! Kenz, stop!”

  Tonya darts behind a tree. I close in. I blast a purple reign of terror.

  “Kenz, stop, she might be pregnant!”

  I stop.

  The whole world does.

  My arm goes limp. The paint gun hangs heavy from my fingertips.

  Tonya peeks out, half hidden by the tree. She’s lightly spattered in purple dye and saying something, but I don’t understand her words.

  “You’re pregnant?” I don’t say it loud enough for anyone to hear.

  She might be pregnant?

  Bradley’s baby.

  When I turn, everyone is staring at me. Clive. Clients. My design team. People I don’t know. I see Maggie. Then I hear Ellie say something. And Shane. I see Shane. He’s walking over to me.

  Oh, God.

  He saw. He heard. He knows.

  I run.

  I DON’T HAVE A CAR. Oh my God, I don’t have . . . I’m running through the parking lot. I need to get out of here. What do I do? Think. My adrenaline is really pumping now. It rockets through my veins. Forget fight or flight. It screams, GET THE HELL OUT!

  My breath is jagged. I’m trying doors. I think that’s Clive’s car. It’s locked. I set off the alarm. Shit! I hear them calling me. I see them. I spin back and look for something, anything. There’s a River Paintball promo van. Some punk kid is unloading stuff from its side door.

  “You wanna make a hundred dollars?” I scream, running at him. I sound crazy. I look insane.

  “What?” His eyes are wide. Is he wearing eyeliner?

  “Two hundred. Just get me the hell outta here!” I look over my shoulder. They’re coming.

  He follows my gaze, “Um . . .”

  “Good. Let’s go. Come on.” I’m already in the passenger seat. “Come on!”

  He runs around and jumps in while I scream, “Go, just go. Move!” The van pulls out, and I watch Shane and Ellie run into the parking lot, followed by Bradley and Clive. They’re going to their cars. I guess that was Clive’s car.

  I look at the kid behind the wheel. He has a faux-hawk and those earrings that look like mini-doughnuts stretched in each ear. A hoop is hanging from his bottom lip. His eyes are wide and he keeps looking over at me. Looking down, I realize I still have the paint blaster. It drops.

  “I’m not kidnapping you,” I say, my hand on my chest, practically hyperventilating.

  “Whatever, you said two hundred, right?”

  I nod. We need to go to my apartment for money. I don’t have my bag, or my bank card. At least I have a spare key so I can get in. My phone rings from the coverall’s inside pocket. A horn is honking from behind us. Really?

  “Go! Move!” I yell, spinning around to see who it is. Clive. And he’s with Bradley. It’s stupid Bradley. “Go! There. Get on 465!”

  “What? Shit, lady.” But he does it. We’re on the expressway.

  My phone’s still ringing. I grab it and without looking just click it on and scream, “What?”

  “Kensington, it’s me, Mom. I hope you don’t always answer the phone that way. My word. That is not how I raised you at all—”

  I lower the phone and point to the sign. “Take it north. Stay north,” I say then wheel around in my seat. My mom is still talking away. Clive and Bradley are still coming. His horn is blaring and now Ellie and Shane are behind them in his Range Rover. Mom’s still talking.

  “Mom, Mom. Now is not a good time.”

  “What are you doing? Did you hear what I said? How do you explain Trish Evans saying her daughter met your British fiancé at the wedding planner’s? British? Bradley was out of town. Do you know how this looks?”

  We swerve into the next lane. They’re still honking. From the phone I hear, “What is going on, Kensington?”

  Hearing my name snaps me back. “Mom! You wanna know what’s going on? Yeah, okay. I’m in a paintball van with some teenage Goth mutant.” I look at the kid. “Sorry.”

  He shrugs.

  “I’m trying to outrun my boss and Bradley, who are right now following us on 465. Oh, I called off the wedding. I did. He’s not the one for me, okay, Mom? And guess who’s back in town? Guess? I’ll give you a hint. He’s British. And you chased him away years ago. Can’t you go any faster?”

  They’re now beside us, honking and yelling. My teen driver’s eyes are wide listening to my rant. I’m looking behi
nd us to see if we can change lanes.

  My mom is saying something again, but I interrupt her and continue my outburst. “So, I called it off. Then I found out he was messing around with Tonya. He was screwing Tonya!”

  “The British guy?” the teenager asks.

  “No. My fiancé, Bradley. Although she says it happened when we were fighting and broken up. Like that matters.” I turn back around and continue into the phone. “Oh, and guess what, Mom? Your darling Bradley might’ve knocked her ass up! Tonya might be pregnant. Pregnant!”

  “Bitch,” says the teenager.

  “I know, right?” I say looking at him. “So, no, this is not a good time, and I don’t care how it looks to Liza Evans’s fucking mom or if you approve!” My mom’s quiet on the phone. I can’t believe I just said that.

  There’s a cop behind us.

  “I gotta go.”

  “I’M SORRY,” I SAY TO the teenager for maybe the fifth time. It’s his first ticket. “I’ll pay the fine, too.”

  He’s looking straight ahead, both hands on the wheel, because that’s what he was taught to do in driver’s ed if he’s pulled over. He’s told me this twice. He also turns seventeen next week. The police officer commented on it when he collected his license and registration.

  Clive and Bradley are parked behind us. Shane and Ellie are behind them. The officer has gone to all three cars and is making his way back. We have been here awhile. The teenager looks tense.

  “Think of all the money you’ll have for your birthday,” I say, in my best encouraging voice. I’ve already upped my earlier two hundred to two fifty.

  He sulks. His eyeliner’s smudged.

  The police officer stops at his window and hands back the kid’s stuff. “You.” He’s pointing to the kid. “I will let off with a warning.” Now he’s pointing to me. “You. Out.”

  “Out?” Shit, is he arresting me? Am I going to jail? I don’t have my wallet, or any ID. I open the door and look back to Teen McQueen. “I will mail you the cash. I promise. I’ll send it to you at River Paintball.”

  “Let’s go, follow me.” The officer is walking past the police car and approaching Clive’s. What is he doing? I slow down to watch where he’s headed. He keeps going, so I keep following.

  When I start to pass Clive’s car, I notice his window’s down. I lean over so I can see Bradley in the passenger seat. “You’re an ass.” Then I look at Clive. “Um, I’m using my vacation days for the rest of the week.”

  Clive nods, so I leave.

  “Kenzi,” Bradley calls out, but I keep walking until I meet up with the officer. He’s standing next to Shane’s Range Rover. I can’t look at him. I don’t want to know what he thinks of me or this whole mess. I’m mortified.

  The police officer looks at Shane and Ellie. “Get her home. I’ve heard enough of this.” He looks at me. “And you’re right, he is an ass.”

  I don’t know what they told him, but right now, I think he’s the coolest cop I’ve ever met. I half smile and open the back door. Clive and Bradley are pulling away, the officer returns to his vehicle, and Shane is looking at me in the rearview mirror like he wants to say something.

  “Don’t,” Ellie says to Shane, and crawls over the middle console to sit next to me.

  Shane pulls from the side of the road without a word and takes the next exit. We need to go back to the paintball place so I can get my stuff.

  My head drops to Ellie’s shoulder with a sigh. All the adrenaline from before has fallen away to leave a vast wasteland of nothing in its place. I’m abandoned, betrayed . . . and lost. I have no inner compass.

  Today’s plan was V for victory. Instead my plan B, plan Me, blew up in my face. The only thing launched was failure.

  THE PAINTBALL PROMO VAN IS back in the lot. The teenager is talking with what appears to be his manager. I still haven’t said a word. Ellie hasn’t left my side. I can see Clive and Bradley waiting for us in the staging area when we pull up. He has my bag from the locker.

  “I’ll get it, you guys stay here.” Ellie’s gone before I can say a word.

  Shane steps out as soon as Ellie leaves. My handle clicks and he’s standing in front of the open door. I can’t look up. I’m frozen.

  “I’d still like to take you to the farm. It’ll be quiet there and I’ll give you your space, okay?” His hand moves to mine. He has nice hands. “Come on.” He guides me from the backseat and into the passenger side. Without another word, he fastens my belt and closes the door.

  Ellie’s walked back with my stuff, she hands the bags off to Shane. Before she leaves she knocks on my window. I glance up and she mouths the words Love you.

  Love you, too, girl.

  Shane slides into the driver’s side and starts the ignition. My shoulders sag and I lean into the door, forehead to glass. My distorted image looks back.

  Figures, I have paint in my hair.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  While You Were Cheating

  IT’S DARK. WE’RE OFF the main highway and are now traveling a rural one. Headlights passing in the opposite direction brighten the SUV’s interior in brief flashes. Shane’s been quiet, although I notice him glancing at me as he periodically changes the station or adjusts the heat.

  I don’t know what to say, so I haven’t said a word. Not one. I mean, where do I start? Today has been a string of cataclysmic events. My life’s plan didn’t just spiral in a new direction. It unraveled, looped around my ankle, and hung me out to dry.

  I stifle a laugh, wipe the moisture from under my eyes, and rub my forehead. Shane looks over quizzically.

  “I’ve had a really busy day,” I say in his direction. I guess I’m talking again. I’m rewarded with a warm smile.

  He nods and says softly, “You have. Yes.”

  I’m sure he thinks the choice was made for me. The thought squeezes all the remaining air from my lungs. “I broke it off with Bradley at lunch, before I knew anything. Tonya thought she was the reason why and outed herself.” I glance at him, then look at my hands.

  My empty finger.

  He suddenly pulls onto the shoulder.

  I look up. “What are you doing?”

  “You haven’t said one word for two and a half hours, Kensington. So, if you’re talking, I’m listening.” He says this in the way of I’m interested, not I’m waiting for an explanation.

  Biting my nail, I search for the right words. “I broke it off after I talked with you. But I made my decision last night.” I add the last part to assure him it was my decision, and not because of anything he had said.

  Light brightens the interior momentarily as a car passes. It chases the shadows from Shane’s features and catches the gold specks of color in his eyes.

  Tears surge, they hold on the lower lid, ready to spill. I made the choice to leave Bradley. I did. I somehow found the courage to admit he wasn’t what I wanted. But I still feel heavy with grief over walking away from the parts I did want.

  “I really wanted to start a family. Have a baby . . .” I wipe at my eyes. “And I didn’t know about Tonya. I mean, I thought she was seeing someone. She’s been wearing lots of new designer clothes lately, but I didn’t know she was . . . not until, well, you saw.” I flush, feeling stupid.

  Shane shifts in his seat, reaches over, and takes my hand.

  I’m focused on it. How it completely covers mine. When I find my voice again it’s quivering. “My family won’t understand . . . it won’t be about if I’m okay.” I sniff. “Or how I feel. Or if I’m hurt. It will be about how it affects them.”

  Shane shakes his head. “They’ve got it backwards. They always have.”

  “I know. But the thing is . . . I know it’s never really going to change. Logically, I know this, but it still surprises me.” It still hurts. I shrug. “I’m just embarrassed by it all.”

  “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. You should be angry.”

  Tears. More tears. I’m a faucet. This is beyond humiliating. He’s ri
ght, though. I should be angry. The whole time Bradley was cheating, and who knows how long it really went on. And while he was cheating, I was trying to convince myself how perfect we were together, how lucky I was that he wanted me, so happy my family loved him.

  Shane reaches into the console and pulls out a small travel pack of tissues. I blow my nose then grab another.

  I look up but can’t quite meet his eyes. “Bradley lied to me. Tonya lied to me. Twice.” I lean my head against the seat. “But really, it doesn’t matter that he was cheating, because I was cheating myself, lying to myself. That’s the worst part. I think, deep inside I knew.”

  Shane shifts and meets my gaze head on. For a moment, we’re just looking at each other, blinking. The truth stripped down and on display between us like a bridge.

  THERE’S A CHATTERING. WHAT IS that noise? I blink. A hazy beam of light filters through the room’s double window onto the bed. I yawn and open my eyes wide to focus. I’m at Shane’s. The quilt is tucked up around me tight. I stretch underneath it. More chattering—birds—that’s what the noise is. It sounds like there are hundreds of them right outside. I peek over the quilt and look at the couch.

  No Shane.

  I sit up to listen. I don’t hear him walking around, so I get up and peer over the loft railing. No one’s here. When we pulled in last night, I couldn’t really see the house in the dark. It’s more like a cottage, the inside’s so small. This isn’t the main house I visited with him years ago.

  Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I crawl back in bed and scootch under the quilt. It feels like I’m a million miles away, except I’m not. I’m only a phone call away. Yesterday’s reality seeps back in and settles in the pit of my stomach.

  Pushing my hair from my face, I blink my phone into focus and click voice mail. Robo-lady announces I have thirteen new messages. Thirteen? My gut wrenches. That’s not counting the missed calls that didn’t leave one.

  It’s Bradley. “Kenzi, I need to talk to you. Please.”

  Just the sound of his voice has me tearing up.

  “You can’t take off and not hear me out. You’ve got this wrong. We need to talk. Please.”