Chapter 7 #2
I’m not used to being backed into a corner like this.
It stresses me out. I don’t do well under stress.
In the OR? Yes. Trauma is an intense specialty and there’s no room for a stressed-out surgeon at the operating table.
But in real life? Not so much. In real life, when I’m stressed or pissed off, I take my scalpel and do bad things.
Of course, I don’t feel bad. Nor do I feel any remorse.
Why should I? It’s not like there’s a shortage of scum to kill.
I need to do this. It’s the only way to preserve my sanity.
“It’s that white one, right?”
I look up and find Camille staring at me. “What?”
“The top you lost. It’s white in color? With something written on the front?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.” She mulls over my words. “I’ve seen you wear that top before.”
“What? That’s not possible. That top isn’t —”
“Yours. I know. But I swear I’ve seen you wear that top before. A few months ago.”
When I don’t say anything for a couple of seconds, trying to jog my memory, Cami gives me another weak smile, one full of silent understanding and goes back to restocking the garnishes.
“Maybe, I’m wrong,” she says. “Forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that some asshole broke into your home, due to which you’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future. Or at least till we figure out who this crazy psycho stalker person is.”
“That solves nothing.”
“It will keep you safe and in front of my eyes. As far as I’m concerned, that solves everything.”
“Camille!” a voice yells. Her attention snaps to her right, towards the server with an empty tray and a pissed-off look on his face. “Can I get the drinks for table seven?”
“Yeah, just a second.”
“Today, please?”
Grimacing, she looks back at me and slings an off-white cloth over her shoulder. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” She saunters off to tend to another customer, her strawberry blonde ponytail bouncing with each step.
I finish the rest of my coffee, unsure what to even think anymore.
It feels like the weight of the world has taken a seat right on my shoulders.
Is it Theo? Is it not? Is Cami right? Is it just some fucking stranger trying to mess with me?
And if it isn’t, if it is Theo, then what exactly is his endgame here?
And why on earth did he call me last night?
Late-night chit-chat? Bullshit. There was definitely something off about him last night.
Question after question forms without so much as an inkling to a solid answer.
I need to find the person who sent me that text. The sooner the better. But how? Whoever it is would have to make contact again. They have to. Or else, why even send the text in the first place? The knots in my stomach get tighter.
I take a deep breath and straighten my shoulders when a familiar face walks in through the bar’s entrance. Long, brown waves, a red mesh top, a black skirt, and the sparkly black overcoat. Audrey.
A surge of relief washes over my shoulders.
She doesn’t acknowledge my presence, nor does she look in my direction. Instead, she keeps her head down and makes a direct beeline for the bathroom stalls.
Disappointed, I get up to follow her.
“Hey!” I shout when I’m halfway down the desolate hallway. There’s no one else around. “Audrey!”
She doesn’t stop.
“Audrey!”
Finally pausing outside the bathroom door, she turns around, her mouth parting in surprise. Our eyes meet and I stand mute. “Oh, it’s you,” she says. “I’m sorry, I…I didn’t hear you.” Her lips purse together, and she shakes her head. “How are you? Got my clothes?”
“Right. About that. I kind of, um, lost them.”
She mouths a silent “oh.”
“I’m really sorry. I must’ve left them on the train while getting here —” a blatant lie, but it’s better than telling her the truth: some creep broke into my home and stole them — “Obviously, I’ll pay for them.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“No, but I want to —”
“Holly, you really don’t have to —”
“I know, but I should. It’s the right thing to do —”
“Since when do you do the right thing?” Audrey blurts.
I blink. “What?”
She shakes her head. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. I’ve just had a really bad day.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Are you?” she asks back.
I stay quiet.
If I’m not used to being backed into a corner, then I sure as hell am not used to being asked if I’m okay out of the blue by some girl I don’t even know that well.
“I-I’m not sure,” I admit for some godforsaken reason. The break-in must be finally getting to me.
Audrey just smiles. A soft, understanding smile. A buzz travels down the hall. My shoulders stiffen.
“That’s okay,” she says. “It’s okay to not be okay once in a while.”
I’m not really sure what’s happening right now, but still, I nod.
“My mom used to say that to me,” she goes on. I see a single yellow tube light flickering in the distance. “I never really understood what that meant. I feel like I’ve been not okay for so long that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be okay. I…I thought I’d be fine like this.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. This.” There’s something about the panic in her voice that makes my heart shrink two sizes.
It makes me pay more attention to her. To look closer at the sharp line of her jaw, the way her collarbone juts out over her chest, the tiny scar near her forehead that I never noticed before.
In this light, her skin looks so pale against all her dark clothes. She looks so sad. So small.
“Do you want to sit down?” I ask her.
She just shakes her head again. “It gets so lonely. I’m so lonely all the time.
I’ve always been alone, so I don’t understand why it’s so hard now.
I didn’t realize it would take so much energy and hard work to pretend that things are fine.
I’m tired. I don’t want to pretend anymore.
I just want things to go back to how they used to be and —” She stops abruptly and something along the lines of shame flits across her face as she meets my eyes again.
“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…fuck, I didn’t mean to unload everything on you.
Jesus, we don’t even know each other all that well. ”
“That’s okay. I lost your clothes. The least I can do is listen to you vent about having an existential crisis.”
A sad smile tugs at her lips, fading just as quickly as it appears, and a deep frown creases my brows almost as if her pain is my pain.
“I don’t know who else to talk to.” Her voice is down to a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
Audrey shakes her head, and a single tear falls down her cheek before she wipes it away. My phone vibrates in my hand. I sneak a peek.
April: ETA?
Holly: 30 minutes.
April: Okay :) I’m trying on my wedding dress till you get here <3. If I don’t answer the door, call me!
Holly:
“Sorry, that was my sister,” I say to Audrey, sliding my phone inside my pocket.
“That’s okay. I need to go anyway.”
“Oh. Yeah, me too.” A brush of disappointment skims my skin. I shake it off. She apologizes for “unloading” on me again and after a full minute of silence, I tell her it’s okay.
She reassures me that I don’t have to pay for the clothes, and I open the bathroom door for her. Smiling, Audrey disappears into one of the stalls and I go back to the bar.
Camille makes me a gin martini, and I sit there for the next twenty minutes.
I don’t see Audrey leave the bathroom. Not even once.
“Oh. My. God.” April clasps her hands below her chin as I emerge from the foyer wearing the bright blue maid of honor dress. “Holly, you look so beautiful.”
“I look like a blue parrot.”
Ignoring my remark, April stands up from the bed, the white tulle of her wedding gown falling around her in the most magnificent manner. “Turn, please.”
Begrudgingly, I oblige. “You’re lucky I love you enough to put up with this nonsense.”
“It is not nonsense. It’s for my wedding and you really do look very pretty.” She walks over and starts fixing my hair.
“I don’t mean the dress.” I slap her hand away. “I mean you getting married to a real-life troll doll.”
April grabs a silver hair clip from her dressing table and slides my short blonde waves to one side. “Funny. You should include that in your maid of honor speech.”
“I’m saving that one for the bachelorette. But don’t worry, I have something even ruder planned for the wedding.”
April rolls her eyes, and I crack a smile.
Despite the joking insinuation that I might hate my sister’s fiancé, I actually have nothing against him.
Not really at least. I’ve just never liked Parker from the start.
He’s like the annoying older brother I never asked for.
Honestly, the only reason I haven’t stabbed him in the eye yet is because he seems to make April happy and that’s all that matters to me.
Two years older and two inches taller, April has always been my metaphorical partner-in-crime.
Back when we were kids, we used to do everything together.
Whether it was staying up till one to watch one of her lame superhero movies or sneaking out to buy beer the night before Thanksgiving.
She was my best friend in the whole world. Still is.
But then she turned fifteen and along came Hayden Parker with his undying love for comic books and that was that.
The two of them formed this little clique that no one was allowed in.
I’ve long since come to terms with my place in her life.
April might still be my favorite person, but that doesn’t mean I’m hers.
And that’s okay. I’m happy as long as she’s happy.
Well, that and as long as I get to cut out Parker’s heart, if he ever breaks hers. Now, that is a win-win.
“There. All done.” She finishes fidgeting with my hair and steps back, locking our arms together so that we’re facing the mirror together.
“I think we look amazing,” she says after a brief pause.
“You do. I look like a blue highlighter.”
“A very pretty blue highlighter.”