by Sophie Davis
“Yeah, but that’s not really the problem,” I hedged, taking a sip of coffee while I tried to come up with an explanation that would make sense. “It’s more that…it’s like sometimes I feel Lark’s emotions, they leak through or whatever. Sometimes I feel like I’m in love with Blake.”
Shock made Adam’s eyes as round as teacup saucers. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, well…no. Maybe? I don’t know. I have never been in love. I mean, when I think of my parents—not the Kingsleys, the Ferragamos—I think that I loved them. Which is bizarre because they aren’t real. But when I think about Blake, it’s different—a different kind of love.”
Adam appeared thoughtful. “Do you have memories of Blake?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not really. Sometimes, when he touches me, I get flashes of time he spent with Lark. But, in general, no. All I know about him is what I’ve read in Lark’s journal. Do you think maybe I have fallen in love with the idea of him? He’s an amazing guy, and Lark definitely romanticizes their relationship. Reading about him, it’s like he’s a fairytale prince or something.”
“That could be it….” Placing his uneaten sausage and egg biscuit on the plate in his lap, Adam gave me his full attention. “I’m not a doctor, obviously. But DID, dissociative identity disorder, which is what you and Lark have, it doesn’t work they way you’re describing. You and Lark and the other personalities are separate. Lark’s feelings for Blake, no matter how intense, shouldn’t be ‘leaking’ into you.” He hesitated, looking a little uneasy about our topic of conversation, which made me uneasy about what he was going to ask next. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about this, I get it. This is all very personal….”
I waved off his offer. “Just ask. At this point, after last night, I don’t think my life can get much weirder.”
“Were you aware while Lark was with Blake?” Adam asked.
My—or rather Lark’s—sex life seemed to intrigue both guys, because Gabe stopped typing to tune into the conversation.
“At times,” I admitted. “I tried to retreat, you know let her be alone with him, but it was almost like I was stuck in a void, where it was completely dark and silent most of the time. But then, I’d hear parts of their conversation or catch glimpse of Blake or feel his hands on me.”
There was no stopping the blood that rushed to my face. Even as I said it, I felt the ghost of Blake’s fingers running over my stomach and his mouth on my neck. In my head, I heard his husky whisper: I love you. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face above mine and the desire in his expression.
“Is it weird that I’m sort of turned on right now?” Gabe asked, and I couldn’t decide if he was joking.
“Depends,” Adam replied, deadpan. “Is it thinking about Blake that has you all hot and bothered?”
“It’s more the look on Raven’s face,” Gabe replied.
Retrieving a throw pillow from the corner of the couch, I tossed it at Gabe’s face. “Okay, I think story time is over.”
Gabe laughed and returned to his laptop, but Adam’s expression was serious. He appeared deep in thought, as though the hamster inside his head was running way too fast on its wheel.
“Adam? You okay? Did I just totally freak you out?” I asked uneasily. The last think I wanted was to alienate my best—possibly only—actual friend.
“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He shook his head, seemingly snapping out of the daze. “It’s just, like I said, DID doesn’t work like that. From what you’re describing, it sounds like you and Lark are sharing a consciousness at times. But from what I’ve read, only your physical body is shared. Sometimes other personalities are aware of one another, and sometimes they do know what happens while another personality is in control. But what you’re telling me—it sounds like your situation is different.”
“Awesome. I can’t even be a normal mental patient,” I lamented.
“Come on, you’re not—”
“A mental patient?” I finished for Adam. “I mean, I am. That wasn’t supposed to be funny. I am, technically, an inpatient at a mental health facility.”
Adam gave me a weak smile as he reached for his coffee but didn’t offer up any more platitudes.
“So, who wants to hear what the fruits of my illegal labor have turned up?” Gabe asked brightly.
With an appreciative smile, I said, “I do. Do you have the guest list?”
“That I do. Do you have email? Or…?”
Adam held out his hand and Gabe scooted the laptop in his direction. Using one finger to scroll down the list, Adam mouthed each name, nodding occasionally when he recognized one. “Okay, well most of these people are politicians, lobbyists, and corporate people. I can’t say for sure which ones Lark has met over the years—likely a lot of them, since she’s always been an active part of the social scene—but none of them will be expecting to see her on Saturday. With your dark hair and brown eyes, unless they really pay attention, they aren’t going to recognize you.”
“That’s good,” I replied.
At least something is going right today.
Adam cringed. “Here’s the bad news….”
Of course there’s bad news, I thought as I made a get on with it gesture.
“Several of the names on here are Manhattan socialites—friends of Eleanor’s who are making the trip down from New York.” Holding up a hand, he stopped my commentary before it could begin. “Again, none of them are expecting to see Lark. She’s been ‘missing’ for over a year, and the Kingsleys even had a tribute this past summer to remind everyone that their daughter had disappeared.”
“Bastards,” Gabe muttered.
Adam nodded. “Agreed. According to my father—he’s working on my invite by the way—Phillip and Eleanor plan on making a speech about Lark at the function.”
“Great,” I groaned.
“Yeah, sorry. I was getting to that.” Adam took a deep breath. “How much do you know about the Eight? Did Lark talk about them in her journal?”
“You mean the Elite Eight? Her snobby friends? Yeah, she mentioned them,” I replied.
“I figured. Well, their parents are all friends with the Kingsleys, and all the families are on the guest list. I think we’ll be okay since, again, they aren’t expecting to see Lark. Particularly as a brunette. But,” he hesitated, “there is one girl who might be problematic.”
We spoke the name in unison: “Annie.”
“How did you know?” Adam asked. “Is it like with Blake? Do you remember her? Annie is Lark’s best friend.”
“No, I don’t remember her. Honestly, I can’t even picture her. But I read an interview she gave. Wasn’t her mother who contacted the FBI, when Annie returned from the Caribbean and told her about Lark not showing up?”
I recalled the interview. Even in black and white, Annie’s sadness and guilt had been obvious. She will recognize me, I thought, if only because Annie was so desperate to see Lark again, to know that her best friend was still alive.
“Yeah, that’s Annie,” Adam confirmed. He looked down into his coffee cup as he swirled the remaining contents. “I’ve seen her a few times since last summer. She and I became friends after Lark’s eighteenth birthday. She’s pretty broken up about everything.” He glanced at his boyfriend, and the look that passed between them told me exactly what both guys seemed hesitant to say.
“She’s not doing well,” I guessed.
“No, not at all.” Gabe cleared his throat. “She’s been pretty off the rails.”
Poor Annie.
I felt my chest tighten and my lungs constrict. She wasn't my best friend—hell, she wasn't even my friend—but in that moment, seeing the looks on both Gabe and Adam’s faces, it felt as though I’d known Annie my whole life. In a way, I had. Annie and Lark became friends in the ninth grade, only a few short months after Lark’s breakdown in Connecticut—only a few short months after my birth.
From reading Lark’s diary, I’d gotten the false impression that she didn’t care muc
h for her friends. That the girls were vapid and the boys juvenile. But with Lark much closer to the surface these days, and with me much more aware of her thoughts and feelings, her guilt shone through the thin veil that divided us. She’d been so consumed with her life and what was happening to her personally that she never took a step back to consider how her friends, particularly Annie, were faring in her absence.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
Never guy wanted to be the one to tell me the truth. It was Gabe who finally cracked.
“Bad. She’s been drinking a lot, among some other vices,” he admitted.
“I see,” I said, standing and starting to pace the living room.
“It’s not your fault,” Adam told me.
No, it’s mine. The thought belonged to Lark, of course, but I experienced the pang in my heart. Maybe DID wasn’t supposed to work this way, but Lark and I seemed to be more connected by the day. It was as if we were two beads of water at opposing ends of a very long rope, growing ever closer until one day we’d finally become one.
I exhaled slowly. “Are you sure she’ll be there tomorrow?”
My question wasn’t directed toward any one person specifically, but it was Adam who answered.
“It’s likely. Both she and her mother sent in their RSVPs.”
“She’s definitely coming,” Gabe interjected.
Both Adam and I turned to look at him. Gabe swiveled his laptop so we could see the screen. Annie’s Facebook page was up, and her status message at the top read: Just arrived in D.C. Drinks at the W’s rooftop bar, and then dinner at the Oval Room. Missing my bestie more than ever
My head started pounding. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples to alleviate some of the pressure building inside my skull. This was a glitch I wasn’t prepared to handle.
Annie’s not a glitch.
Okay, so maybe that was a callous way of thinking about the situation. How was I supposed to deal with Lark’s best friend? Like Adam had said, a lot of the people that knew Lark wouldn’t be expecting to see her, so I would go unnoticed. Annie was different, though. She might not expect to see Lark at the Smithsonian, but if she missed my alter ego as much as the guys believed, then Lark would be in the forefront of her mind. If Annie and I bumped into one another….
You’ll have to avoid her.
Somehow, I doubted it would be that easy.
A phone started ringing. All three of us reached for our cells. “It’s me,” Adam declared, starting for the hallway as he accepted the call. “Hey, Dad,” I heard him say, followed by the sound of my bedroom door closing.
“So,” Gabe began, turning his laptop back around to face him, “any chance you have a gown in that big ass closet back there?”
“Huh?” I asked, still distracted with thoughts of Annie.
“The shindig tomorrow night is black-tie,” he explained.
“Oh, right, of course it is,” I mumbled. Doing a quick mental review of Lark’s closet, I shook my head. “Not that I recall, but I’ll double check.”
Gabe waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t bother. It’s a good excuse to go shopping.”
I laughed. “Shopping? Really? Don’t we have more important things to do?”
He cocked an eyebrow, and I pointed to his laptop. “Have you learned all about the mad scientist experiments going on at Montauk?” I asked. “Because, if not, I’d say you’re a little too busy for a trip to the gown store.”
Gabe rolled his eyes and opened his mouth for what was surely a snarky reply. Unfortunately, the words never reached my ears. Two things happened simultaneously: my bedroom door flung open, as did the front door to the apartment. Heavy footsteps came toward Gabe and me from both directions. Then, both Adam and Asher appeared, both wide-eyed and frazzled.
“We have a serious problem,” Asher announced.
At the same time, Adam declared, “The Kingsleys know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Unsure who to address first, my gaze darted between both Adam and Asher, before finally settling on the former. “Know what, exactly?” I asked, amazed by how calm I sounded.
“That you’re not at Montauk,” he replied.
I looked to Asher. “Is that our serious problem?”
Red-faced, as though he’d run the entire way from Gibson Street to The Pines, his shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Phillip Kingsley called David this morning. Apparently, he received a message from someone claiming that his daughter, or someone who said she was their daughter, called him.”
I swore under my breath as Adam picked up the story. “Yeah, they are freaking out. They’re thinking of canceling the event at the museum tomorrow.”
This time, my profane comment was audible.
“Raven?” Asher sounded like an elephant as he stomped toward me. Fear and anger both evident in his expression, it took all my willpower not to recoil. “Do you don’t seem surprised. Why aren’t you surprised?” he demanded.
Straightening my spine and crossing my arms over my chest, I spoke as calmly as possible. “I am not surprised. I made a mistake, and while I’d hoped nothing more would come of it, I knew this was a possibility.”
Asher could barely contain his fury. And, honestly, it was a little frightening. “What. Did. You. Do?”
“Hey, chill, dude.” Gabe was on his feet and next to me in a flash. An instant later, Adam flanked my other side.
“One of the clues in that letter from Lark—the one about the necklace on display being a fake—I wanted to follow up on it.” I watched Asher closely, but his expression didn’t change. “So, I called the jeweler, Navid. He made the duplicate necklace for Lark.”
“How could you be so stupid?” Asher shouted, looking like he wanted to shake some sense into me.
“I-I-I,” I stuttered, unable to find the right words—or any words for that matter.
“Screw you, man,” Gabe fired back, shoving a finger in Asher’s face.
“Gabe, it’s okay,” I started to say.
“No, it’s not.” His gaze didn’t leave Asher’s. “This asshole and his colleagues set up this ridiculous farce, supposedly as part of your treatment. They don’t get to blame you when shit hits the fan.”
“Let’s everyone calm down.” Adam stepped between Asher and Gabe. “I get that you’re pissed, but what’s done is done. We just need to figure out how to move forward.”
Asher threw his hands up in the air. “You don’t get it!” he shouted. “None of you get it!” He turned his focus from Gabe to me, having to peer over Adam’s head to do so. “The Kingsleys are pissed, Raven. They want to know why their daughter isn’t safe and sound inside the walls of the Montauk Institute.”
My laugh was derisive. “Oh, do they? Do they want to know why the child they had committed is roaming free? The daughter they don’t visit. The daughter they had locked up when she threatened to expose their corruption.” By that point, I was screaming, too. The pain of abandonment and betrayal weren’t mine own. I wasn’t even sure who was really in control anymore. I’d felt as though Lark and I were close to melding into one, but just then we were one. All three of us, in fact, seemed to be there, sharing mind, body, and soul.
“Why are you really upset, Asher?” I continued to rant. “Because your little pet project got away from you? Because David’s biggest benefactor is threatening to cut him off?” My tone was sharp enough to scratch a diamond, when I added, “What, does daddy dearest blame you for not keeping me on a short enough leash?”
All the blood drained from Asher’s face, and he staggered backward as though I’d suckered punched him. Adam and Gabe stood still as marble sculptures, mouths agape and eyes bulging. I barely noticed either of them, though. I only had eyes for Asher.
“Lark?” Asher whispered, the name coming out like a strangled cry.
I said nothing.
“Lila?” he tried.
Still, I said nothing.
“Raven?” he asked uncertainly.
&n
bsp; “Does it really matter?” I countered.
A part of Asher, the therapist observing his unconventional treatment in action, appeared fascinated by my response, which made my blood run hot. I was so over being someone’s stupid, effing, experiment.
“David is your father?” Adam asked, rounding on Asher.
Asher regarded him coolly. “Does it really matter?” he shot back, repeating my words.
“Yeah, sort of,” Adam said. “Full disclosure and all.”
“Fine, whatever. Yes, David is my father. Now you know, happy?”
“Happy isn’t really the word—” My glare silenced Adam midsentence.
For several long, minutes, all four of us stood there, staring at one another. Asher and I were both stewing in our anger, while Gabe and Adam watched and waited for whatever was to come next. Finally, Asher relented, though he still sounded super irritated.
“David has ordered me to bring you back to Montauk immediately,” he informed me.
“No,” I said simply.
“It isn’t up for debate.” Asher stepped toward me, but Adam and Gabe closed ranks and he backed off. “You don’t have a choice in the matter—any of you. Lark Kingsley is an inpatient at the Montauk Institute, under my and David’s care.”
“What about Raven Ferragamo? Or Lila Queensbridge?” I asked.
“You are all the same person,” Asher said, looking as though he was on the verge of dragging me from the apartment by my hair.
Our gazes locked. My heart felt as though it might beat through my ribs and my hands shook from both fear and fury. I wouldn’t let them lock us away again. Not when I was so close to freedom. It was time to take back our life. For that, I would need all three of us, our collective knowledge and strength.
Think. What’s the best way to play this?
Lila had known about the connection between David and Asher. Lark knew Asher best, though. She was the one he’d originally wanted to help. But I understood the animosity that Asher harbored for his father. Most of what he’d told me was a lie, but there was truth between the lines of deception.
I took a deep breath and put all our metaphoric chips on red. “You said that you wanted to help me. You said that was the one thing you never lied about.”