Beautiful Lies (37 page)

Holly stares at him. She pushes out her bottom lip in a pout. “I feel so bad for him.”

“Why?” I ask. “What’s the matter?”

She and Kimber exchange another glance.

“It’s okay,” Holly says. “You can tell her.” She gives me a half smile.

But Kimber doesn’t explain. Instead, she nudges Holly to stand up. “We have to leave,” she says.

“Right now?” Holly takes a sip of her soda as she scoots out of the booth. “Why?”

“I have to give Rachel a ride somewhere.” Kimber clutches her purse to her side. Her car keys dangle from her right hand.

Holly isn’t paying attention. She stares into her drink, frowning.

“Tell Nicholas good-bye for us,” I say.

“Uh-huh. I will.” And she shoves her drink at my face. “Taste this, Rachel. Does this taste like diet to you?”

I take a sip. “Yes, it’s definitely diet.” It’s definitely not.

Holly breathes a sigh of genuine relief. “Oh, good. Okay—go ahead, then. See you both later.”

As we’re pulling out of the parking lot, I tell Kimber to make a right and head toward the highway. The afternoon is bright and sunny. The sky is clear, except for a few stray stratus clouds. Far above us, an airplane crawls across the sky. It seems impossible to think that it’s actually moving at hundreds of miles an hour, carrying all those passengers.

“I know where to go,” she says, sliding her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose.

“You do?” I ask. “How?”

She sighs. “Alice … your sister and I followed you one day last summer.”

I feel stunned. “You followed me.”

“Yes.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because Rachel was worried about you. You’d been sneaking off to meet this guy Robin for weeks, but you wouldn’t introduce him to anyone. Rachel wanted to know where you were going with him all the time, to make sure you were safe.” She pauses. “And she wanted to see him for herself.”

I don’t know how to respond. In the space of a few days, my whole reality has shifted out of focus. I stare out the window as we glide down the highway, trying to keep my breathing steady and calm.

Kimber doesn’t try to make conversation. She switches on the radio and tunes in to the local oldies’ station. As she drives, keeping her speed at a constant fifty-three miles per hour in a fifty-five-mile zone, she hums along to “Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin.

We exit the highway after a few miles and begin to make our way along the dingy main drag lined with run-down storefronts. Since it’s the middle of the afternoon, there are plenty of people out. But this is a bad part of town; at one stoplight, there’s a guy who looks homeless selling crude colored-pencil drawings of birds for ten dollars apiece. Behind him, on the sidewalk, a grown man in a white track suit rides a child’s bicycle, his knees bumping against his chest as he pedals clumsily along.

Kimber turns onto Willow Circle. She parks on the brick-paved street in front of the white duplex where Robin lives.

“Alice.” Her voice is soft and sympathetic.

“Yes?” As Kimber removes her sunglasses, I’m startled to see that her eyes are red and glossy, like she’s trying not to cry.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I don’t know.” She folds her glasses and slips them into her purse on her lap. “This is hard for me, that’s all.”

I stare at her. “Why is it hard?”

She bites her bottom lip. “Because you’re not going to like this.”

I glance out my window at the duplex. There’s a pink piece of paper covered in writing taped to Robin’s door, but we’re too far away for me to make out any of the words. I notice that the yellow curtain that normally hangs across the front window is gone.

A sense of discomfort begins to creep over me. Something isn’t quite right here. I know it, and so does Kimber. I feel reluctant to get out of the car. At the same time, sitting inside with all the windows up gives me a suffocated feeling. The air is suddenly cool, like I’ve been hit with a blast from the air conditioner. But the car isn’t running; there’s nothing coming out of the vents.

Still staring at the duplex, I say, “You didn’t tell me yet why Nicholas was so upset at Rita’s.”

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.” I can feel her looking past me at the house. Her breathing is quick and shallow. Even though it’s an older model, her car still has that new-car smell, which I find comforting for some reason. Kimber knows how to take good care of things.

“Tell me,” I press. My bookbag is in my lap, the money stuffed into a paper bag at the bottom.

She shrugs dismissively. “Oh, I don’t even know. Something about one of the houses his dad owns. The one on Pennsylvania Avenue, I think. His dad took away his key. I guess Mr. Hahn went over there a couple of days ago and found the door hanging wide open.”

I wince. “Did Nicholas get in trouble?”

“No, but he was freaking out at school today. So was Holly.”

“Do you know why?”

“Nope. Wait—maybe. They were whispering about it in study hall. Something about a geocaching tournament. I don’t really understand it. Anyway, it’s not important.”

But it is. Could the money have belonged to Nicholas? Was it some kind of prize, maybe?

Before I can say anything else, Kimber nudges me. “Look.”

As I glance at the duplex, the door to the apartment on the left—not Robin’s apartment—swings open. A cute guy in his mid-twenties steps onto the porch. He gives us a smile as he walks toward Kimber’s car, like he’s been expecting us.

I don’t have a chance to ask her anything else about
Nicholas. Before I know what’s happening, Kimber is getting out of her car to greet the man, who’s standing on the sidewalk now just a few feet from us, a set of keys dangling from his hand. “Come on, Alice,” she says to me. “Get out of the car.”

So I do. I stand there as Kimber and the man shake hands and exchange friendly small talk. The guy introduces himself as Michael. He seems eager to be meeting us, almost hopeful. I don’t say anything; I just stand there, trying to hide my confusion. This guy lives next door to Robin? I’ve never seen him before in my life. As far as I knew, the other side of the duplex was vacant.

“This is my friend Alice,” Kimber says. She grins. “We’re going to be roommates.”

Startled, I look at her. She stares back at me, her gaze steady and calm.
Play along,
it says.

“Great.” Michael turns to look at the house. “I hope you like it. Pretty much everything is new. I did all the work myself. You’ve got new carpets, new paint, new flooring in the kitchen, new fixtures in the bathroom.” He lets out a low whistle. “You wouldn’t believe what the inside of this place looked like when I bought it. What a disaster.”

What is he talking about?
My whole body feels cold. I need air. I need to think. As we approach the house, the familiar smell of turpentine seeps into the air, so powerful that my eyes start to burn. If Kimber or Michael can smell it, they don’t say anything.

Michael uses his keys to unlock the door. The three of us step inside. He switches on the lights.

As I look around the room, I reach for Kimber’s arm, trying to steady myself. The turpentine smell is overwhelming. I can taste the vapor in my throat. As my vision adjusts to the indoor lighting, tiny black dots swim in rapid circles before my eyes.

I stare. I see, but I don’t see. I don’t understand.

The apartment is completely empty: no furniture, no television, and no paintings. The walls themselves are freshly painted a light shade of beige. The ceiling and baseboards are still covered in bright-blue painter’s tape. The old shag carpet has been pulled up to reveal smooth, shiny hardwood floors. I look past the living room into the kitchen, where the old fridge and stove have been replaced with stainless-steel appliances.

There is simply no way that anybody could have gutted and renovated this entire place in less than three days. It’s not possible.

The wound on the back of my head, hidden by a ponytail, throbs in time with my heartbeat.

Michael begins to walk toward the bedroom, talking to us as he moves. “So the rent is six hundred a month, and I’m asking for the first and last month’s rent as a security deposit,” he says, flipping on light switches as he passes them, pausing in the hallway to glance back at us. “If that’s going to be an issue for you to come up with all at once, you can split it over a few months.”

Every time another light comes on, it feels like a blow to my senses as the apartment is further illuminated to reveal its emptiness. Kimber squeezes my hand. My palm is clammy and damp. There is a dull, low ringing sound in my ears.

“Hey,” she whispers, flashing me a worried look, “are you okay?”

I am too stunned to answer her. She’s brought me here to show me—what? That Robin is gone? But he was
just here
on Sunday. I was just here. The two of us sat on his sofa together. I spoke to him. He knew who I was immediately, even though anybody else would have assumed I was Rachel.

Somehow, I find my voice. “This is a joke,” I tell Kimber. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Her gaze searches my face. She seems to be struggling to figure out if I’m serious. Her expression shifts from concern to sadness to pity. Whatever she was trying to accomplish by coming here, I can tell that my reaction is not what she expected.

“We thought you knew,” she says.

“You thought I knew what?” The sunlight coming through the window beside us casts a purplish hue throughout the room. My toes have gone numb in my shoes.

“We thought you were lying to us. We followed you here. We watched you go inside. You were alone, getting drunk all by yourself. Smoking cigarettes.”

I shake my head. “I don’t smoke. Robin smokes.”

“Alice.” Kimber seems to shrink, her posture slumping
as she lets go of my hand and takes a step away from me. “There was nobody here with you.”

My throat burns, dry and raw. Every breath hurts. I have to get out of here. “You’re wrong,” I say, keeping my voice low.

Kimber’s hand moves to the small golden crucifix around her neck. She holds it between her thumb and index finger, rubbing them together in tiny, circular motions. She glances down the hallway, where Michael has disappeared into the bedroom for the moment.

“A few months ago, they hadn’t started renovating yet,” she says. “The apartment was empty. You sat on the floor for the longest time. You had this look in your eyes, like your mind was somewhere else.” She looks ready to cry. “We could see your lips moving, but you weren’t making any sound.”

I don’t think Kimber would lie to me on purpose, but the alternative is too upsetting to consider. What Kimber is describing—that faraway gaze, the silent mouthing of nonsense—I’ve seen it before when my grandmother slips into confusion. But it’s never happened to me. Besides, I’ve talked to Robin countless times. I’ve touched him. I’ve felt his hands on my skin, the familiar calluses on his fingertips. He was here with me. He’s real.

Michael has returned from the bedroom. He stands in the kitchen, leaning against the new refrigerator. “If you girls want to think about it, that’s fine. I can get you a copy of the lease to look over.” He shrugs. “To be honest, you’re the only interest I’ve had so far. If you want the place, it’s yours.”

“Thanks.” Kimber smiles at him. “Before we go, can I ask you a few questions?”

He nods. “Shoot.”

“How long have you owned this apartment?”

“Uh … let me think. My wife and I bought it this past May, so that would be … almost four months now.”

“Do you know anything about the previous owners?”

“Not really,” Michael says. “The place had been in foreclosure for years. We bought it from the bank. It was in pretty awful shape. The neighborhood’s seen a lot of renovation lately, but there’s still some riffraff. The locks on the doors were broken. Local kids probably used this place to hang out and party.” He laughs. “Looks like their fun here is over. I put three-inch deadbolts on the doors yesterday. Nobody’s getting in now without a key.”

Kimber nods. “Okay. Good to know.” She looks at me. “Alice? Is there anything you want to ask? We should probably get going soon.”

I can hardly breathe, let alone speak. I shake my head.

“Okay then.” Michael taps his fingertips against the white kitchen wall. “I’ll go grab you that lease. Meet you outside in a few minutes.”