by Debra Lynch
I double over in laughter and can barely catch my breath. Jesus. I think I really am going to need the help of more high priced therapists.
My phone dings a text alert. I clamp a hand over my mouth when I see it’s from Dennis. I’m sorry. I miss you. Let’s talk.
The doorbell rings. Nothing I can do about Freakshow now so I open the door for my bestie.
“Hot damn.” Levi stands in the doorway wearing a pair of soft jeans that are faded in all the right places, a black vintage Led Zeppelin T-shirt, a stylish silver necklace that only he can pull off and make it look masculine. His dark hair is tousled in a delicious bedhead way, a few strands falling over his sexy green eyes. His facial hair with the two-day growth is so artfully done it looks like it’s been spray-painted on. His gaze starts at my sandals, makes its way up my body, lingers on my breasts, and ends with a huge smile as he gazes into my eyes. “Not your usual style, but I gotta say. It suits you.”
I move aside, allowing him to enter. “Quit embarrassing me unless you want me to turn beet red during the show. Drink before we start?” I call over my shoulder as I make my way into the kitchen.
“Sure. Nothing stronger than water for me, though.”
I retrieve sparkling water from the fridge and pour us both a champagne glassful. My hand shakes when I hold mine up for a toast. “Tonight we celebrate.”
He clinks his glass against mine. “Five years of YouTube partnership bliss.” He takes a sip and carefully sets the glass on the countertop, eyeing me. “Are you okay?”
I glance at the home screen on my phone, which I’d set to silent. Another text from Dennis:
Did you get the dress? Do you like it? This charming message is accompanied by an emoji: the dancing lady in the red dress.
Freak! I set the phone face down. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I know you. You haven’t been yourself lately, and I don’t care how much makeup you put on, those dark circles under your eyes don’t lie.”
“That obvious?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Listen. If you don’t want to talk about your dad tonight we don’t have to. I know it’s hard for you.”
Levi knows how my father died and how the pain worked its way into my psyche. He’s probably afraid I’ll turn into a blubbery mess if we get too much into it on air.
I jerk my hand up. “No. I want to talk about Daddy.”
Levi’s voice is soft. “Hey. You’re the brains who started the show and you told me it was all because of your dad. I’m just the lucky guy who’s along for the ride.”
I smile. “You’re more than a pretty face.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes as my heart opens and exudes a gushy mess of feelings for my best friend.
I covertly turn my phone over, and there’s another text from Freakshow: Call me. I’m sorry we fought. You’re right and I am wrong. This text includes a broken heart emoji.
Well, well. Poor little Dennis is working himself into a lather. Maybe he can be a guest on Doctor Phil’s show. “She started out so great! I thought I’d found my soulmate. Now she won’t answer my texts.”
“Ever wondered this?” Dr. Phil would say, “Maybe she’s just not that into you!”
Levi’s warm hands cup my face, and he gazes into my eyes. “Look at me. I’ll help you through talking about your dad. Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Quit being so nice. You’re gonna make me cry.”
He drops his hands to his sides. “It’s about time somebody was nice to you.” He winks. “Come on. We’ve got a show to record.”
I don’t want to look at my phone, but just like an addict who can’t stay away from her drug, I do. Two more texts await:
Answer me!!! Why are you ignoring me? I’ll make everything right again. CALL ME!!!
And then I read the text that makes me want to laugh so hard I think I really am going insane:
I love you. Let me show you just how much.
Ha! How exactly is he going to show me? Maybe he’ll get down on bended knee with a ten karat diamond ring. Didn’t I hear somewhere that diamonds will cut through glass? Perhaps a rock that size will slice right through that delusional skull of his so I can remove his brains and make a stew. The size of his pea-brain wouldn’t make much of a meal, though.
I paste on my superstar smile for the show.
My thoughts stray to my final plan.
The one that will eradicate Dennis from my life.
Permanently.
“Welcome all you viewers out there in video land. I’m Levi Swift.”
“And I’m Rachel Goodman.” I smile into the camera. This is where I feel at home. Acting. I cross my legs and pat Levi’s thigh. “Levi and I are thrilled you’re here with us tonight.”
“Yep,” Levi says. “And we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for each and every one of you.” Levi goes through our script of naming several viewers who’d sent in comments, and together we answer their burning questions.
“Yes, Levi is single.”
“No, Rachel doesn’t have a cook. She prepares all her own meals.”
“Yes, Levi will be at Bhakti Fest next year. He’ll lead the kundalini yoga workshop.”
“No, Rachel’s hair is not always this long. She gets a little help from The Goddess Salon. Yes, ladies, you can make your hair look like hers, too.”
We play clips of some of our best videos, we include bloopers and upbeat music.
Then we settle in for the interview portion of the show. Levi’s tone grows serious as he says, “Your father was an important part of your life. You told me he was the inspiration for The Namasté Getaway.”
“He was. My father believed in me when no one else would.” As the trite words leave my lips, I feel like a fraud. Tell the audience what they want to hear, don’t let them see the real you. I want to talk about my grifter days and some of the scams Daddy and I perfected. I want the audience to hear stories like the rare coin scam or the pretend-Daddy’s-passed-out-drunk ruse. It would be great to get some of the real me off my chest. Levi thinks it makes me more relatable, and I agree. But I just can’t seem to get the words out.
I decide to give the audience a small bit of authenticity. “My father wasn’t perfect. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Matter fact, he got himself into some trouble.” I bite my lip and continue. “Some would say he broke the law. But before he died I was a just a kid who looked up to her daddy.
“The thing I remember most about my father is the way he encouraged me to use all my skills to achieve my goals.” I look down at my folded hands and smile. “He knew I had a knack for persuading people and told me I’d be good at starting my own business one day—not the kind of business he ran where he didn’t always play by the law. But the kind of business where I could use my knack for, how did he put it, my talent for enchanting an audience, to help people.” I sigh and smile at the camera. “And here I am.”
Levi reaches out and touches my hand. “I think we all need someone like that to encourage us.”
We continue the interview for the anniversary special, but dark thoughts ricochet in my head. Levi, I’m sorry to break it to you. You have no idea who I really am.
Twenty-Three
Dennis
Rachel ignores my text messages. That’s the first thing that infuriates me.
The second thing is that it takes me nearly all day to set up that monstrosity of a TV set that she bought me. And I don’t have all day. Some of us have to work for a living, you know. Unlike demanding Princess Rachel. What does she do all day? Go to yoga classes, teach some stupid class on video blogging for students who don’t have one original thought in their pea brains. And oh yeah, let’s not forget what Rachel really likes to do. Shoplift. I seriously doubt that the days of her five-finger discounts are over. They never are for people like Rachel.
I glance at the clock and realize I have less than thirty minutes before the show starts. I’m in an especially bad mood tonight becaus
e Rachel will spend yet another evening with that creep. He’s just a work colleague. I can hear Rachel’s simpering voice in my head as she tries to tell me what I want to hear. I would bet all the furniture in my newly decorated house that Rachel’s banging that guy instead of me. Not okay, Rachel. Not okay.
I finally get the TV working and cast the owner’s manual aside with a huff. I quickly navigate to YouTube, and when I see my angel, all my anger evaporates.
She’s wearing my dress!
A slow smile pulls at my lips as I relax back on my expensive sofa. Rachel will get over whatever tizzy fit she’s having complete with silent treatment, and I’ll forgive her with open arms. But of course, she needs to be taught a lesson.
My stomach curdles when that Levi dude speaks, and I nearly barf up my Twinkies and organic tortilla chips. “Tell us more about your father,” Levi says. I squint my eyes. Is the man actually wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt? Was he even sperm yet when they recorded their first album? “He passed so young. You were just a child.”
Rachel crosses her legs like a lady and looks straight into the camera. “I want everyone to know that whatever you’re dealing with in life, you can get through it.” Jeez. What kind of affirmation cards is Rachel reading this week? Come up with an original phrase, why don’t you? She tugs at the dress and looks at her knees. “After Daddy died I ended up in the system. In and out of foster homes. It was just me.”
“No mother?”
“Nobody. Until Madeline … and you.”
Levi’s mouth opens, and then he shuts it again before moving on. “What was it like being alone? No siblings, no family, no friends.”
“I was nine when Daddy died. How do you think I felt? Frightened. Alone in the world.” Rachel’s lower lip quivers, and tears brim her eyes.
God, I miss her. I want things to go back to the way we were. The carefree days of going to movies, shopping for furniture, our walks in the park by the ocean. The Rohypnol beckons to me from my medicine cabinet.
Levi continues. “You devoted your work to your father. You sign off our show with a dedication to him every time. Do you think people should keep alive the memory of those who have gone before? Or should we take advice from some of the masters who teach us to”—he makes air quotes—“‘live in the now,’ you know, the power of now and that sort of thing.”
Tears fill her eyes. “I will never forget my father. Yes, we live in the now but sometimes awful things happen. Terrible, bad things. We lose someone we love. Sometimes in the most horrible of ways. If that happens to you when you’re a child it changes you. It’s shaped me into the person I am today. I’m on the same path with all our students. I may look like I have it all together, but who really does?”
Her face looks so sad and forlorn that I get up and wipe away her tears from the TV screen. My throat closes up, and I’m all choked up myself. I haven’t cried in years. Even when they locked me away. Hell, I didn’t even cry when they threw me into the grain and drain, the amusing name inmates give to solitary confinement. But on this night I can’t help myself. Rachel looks so lost. Like a little girl who needs her daddy and next thing you know, I’m boohooing right along with my princess.
“You’ve made such an impact on the lives of others,” Levi says in that smug way of his that makes me think he’s never suffered a second in his life. The guy probably went to some fancy OC private school and had a mother, father, sister, and brother. His first car was likely a Ferrari, not a cheap-o heap he bought at a police auction like mine. Damn thing never ran right. All those high speed chases, I suppose. He looks into the camera. “All you viewers out there, we appreciate you because through community we heal.” He places a hand on Rachel’s knee, and I want to slap it away. “The Namasté Getaway has become such a huge part of your healing. How do you feel when you interact with our viewers, helping them through letters, your classes, and the one-on-ones?”
Rachel smiles and looks right at me. But then the strangest thing happens. Just like that day I caught her stealing.
She lies.
Her eyes flick left, she fidgets—just for a second—and then she waits a beat so she can get her story together. “There’s this feeling that comes over me. My breath speeds up. It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
The hair stands up on the back of my neck, and I recite the last line along with Rachel because I know it so well. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. I slam my open palm down on the coffee table. “God damn it!” Rachel is a dyed-in-the-wool scam artist through and through. Her “heartfelt” description of the way she oh-so-lovingly cares for her precious followers is another ruse. It’s the exact feeling she described to me the night I asked her what it felt like when she shoplifted. Liar! Is that the phony line she hauls out every time she wants somebody to feel sorry for her?
Oh, I know my princess loves her shoplifting. She didn’t lie about that. But she doesn’t care about her followers. She cons them just like she tried to con me.
I stand up. My heart beats like a jackhammer as I stalk into the kitchen, pick up a glass, and smash it against the wall.
Rachel lied to me. She’s played me all along with her doe-like eyes. I’m so sorry, Mr. Security Guard. I didn’t mean it. I got distracted. Here, I’ll pay for it. A drink? Sure. Whatever it takes to make you happy. Whatever it takes so you won’t turn me in. I should’ve recognized a con when I saw one. Takes one to know one, right Princess? She’s nothing more than a cheap actress. But she’s my cheap actress.
I stalk back into the living room just as the show is ending.
Rachel gazes into the camera and dabs at her eyes, her hand over her heart. “Thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for making The Namasté Getaway the success it is.”
Levi smiles at my girlfriend, and he actually touches her again. This time he rubs her leg like they’d just crawled out of the sack and are headed back that way. I want to kill the spineless bastard. “To celebrate our fifth anniversary of doing the show together, tonight Rachel and I will be at the Adam and Eve Kombucha Bar in Laguna Beach. Come join us for a drink. On us.” He winks at Rachel. “We’ll be there ’til midnight.”
She smiles at him like they’re going on their honeymoon.
“This one’s for you, Daddy.” Rachel kisses her fingers. “This is Rachel Goodman.”
“And Levi Swift.”
“Saying namasté.”
Blood pounds through my ears as I stand up, my back rigid, my fists clenched. I bolt into my bedroom, gather up my gear, launch myself into my car, and jam the key in the ignition. When I turn the key, it makes a series of clicking noises but won’t start.
I slam my hand on the dashboard. “Piece of shit car!” No matter. After tonight I’ll drive Rachel’s Tesla. She can get a new damn car.
I call up an Uber, another thing I can scarcely afford.
They’d be at the kombucha bar ’til midnight? Well, I hope they have the time of their lives because when Rachel gets home, I’ll be there. Waiting for her.
Twenty-Four
Rachel
It’s time to confess to Levi.
The show ends, and I smile at my bestie, mentally recounting our great years together, and hopefully, many more to come.
We grin and slap each other five. “Great job!” he says.
“I think it went really well.” My gaze slides over him. “The chicks are going to go crazy when they see you with your clothes on.” I swallow over a dry throat. “Drink?”
“Water would be great.” He stands up, placing a hand at the small of my back. “After you.”
We move into the kitchen. I pour two glasses and hand one to Levi. I take three long sips of water and set down the glass, looking Levi in the eye. “There’s something I have to tell you. And don’t freak out.”
His eyebrows knit in concern. “Why would I freak out?”
Just jump in and start. “I know who smashed our windshields.”
Levi stops, his glass halfway t
o his mouth. “You … what? Who?”
I purse my lips. I need to phrase everything just right. I settle at the barstool and pat the one next to me. “Just relax and listen. You’re not going to believe this crazy story. And before you get worked up, promise me you’ll keep an open mind.” I tap the seat again. “Sit.”
He carefully sits next to me, and I sense the tension in his body. Levi grips my hand and stares me in the eye. “Slow down a sec. You know who did it? Since when? Have you called the cops?”
I gently extricate my hand and take another sip of water before going on. “His name is Dennis. Dennis Smith. He caught me shoplifting. He’s the creepy fan you met that day. At The Treasure Trove. You know, the place we sponsor. And no, I’m not calling the cops. He blackmailed me.”
His face goes blank with shock. “Wait. You shoplifted? When?”
“Just let me explain.” Now that I’m confessing, I need to sell this just right. “It was just once. I was stupid, and I got caught.” Levi sucks in a breath, and I hold up a hand. “It’s all taken care of. It went something like this. The man who busted me seemed to get off on his stupid power play. Told me he wouldn’t turn me in if I went along with his … demands.”
Levi’s eyes narrow. “Demands? What kind of demands?”
Shoot. Wrong choice of words. “It was nothing. He just wanted to be friends. He’s lonely.” I shake my head. “And more than a little messed up in the head.”
A vein pulses dangerously in Levi’s forehead. “Friends? He didn’t try to have sex with you, did he?”
My eyes open wide. “What? No!”
Levi is a good man. A mellow dude who meditates, drinks chamomile tea to calm his nerves, and walks the beach when he needs to think out a worry. But now he looks like his blood pressure has spiked so high that even one of those yoga grounding mats or a drum ceremony in the desert can’t help him. His muscles tense, and he looks like he’s about to shake me by the shoulders for being so stupid.