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“I told you. They’re—”
“Dead, I know,” she interrupted, on a mission. “But what were theylike?”
“Nice,” I said, knowing how to weave this particular web without much thought. “Sweet, too. Older. Just sort of normal people. Their main hobby, outside of me, was ballroom dancing. They even traveled to competitions sometimes. It was cute.” Specifics are always convincing, just nottoomany, lest you lose track in a future conversation.
“Were you close with them?”
“Close enough,” I continued. “I was an only child so it was alwaysthe three of us. That said, they treated me like their child, not their friend. They had healthy boundaries, which I always appreciated.” What a dream scenario that would be. I found myself daydreaming about what that would have been like. Healthy parenting from not just one, but two people. Syl didn’t know either. Maybe that’s why I felt so connected to her. I hadn’t spent so much time elaborating on my made-up parents because most people didn’t ask further once they learned of their deaths. But Syl wasn’t most people.
“What was your mother’s name?” Syl asked.
I never knew Mother’s real name because she refused to tell me. Only the first letter. I asked her every so often, during the in-between times when it was safer, no man to overhear us, but I suspected she liked holding it over my head. A mystery, along with my own given name.
“Alice,” I told Syl.
“And your father?” Syl prodded.
“Bob. Robert,” I added, getting uncomfortable with revealing all of these details. I motioned to the server for another drink. I was feeling forlorn, sad for a version of me as a child that didn’t exist, would never exist, and longing for people that didn’t exist, would never exist. “What’s your father’s name?” I asked Syl, wanting to turn the tables on her.
“Giles. He just had a birthday. Almost thirty years lost inside.”
“That’s a very long time,” I said, hoping it would put an end to the conversation. Some happy hour.
“Anyway,” Syl said, clearly picking up on my signals. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling restless at work. I’m sure things will pick up soon.” Her tone was flippant, suggesting my problems were frivolous. Maybe so, but it was a nice change of pace. She didn’t know what I had gone through, but I was dying to tell her. I dreamt about comparing darkfamily pasts with Syl. She would understand me on some level. Her father was in prison, leaving her to grow up in the system. Syl and I both had the same hard edges that we could soften on command to the untrained eye. Me with a made-up story. Syl with that sunny disposition. We let people think they had us figured out. It was a lot easier to be a woman in the world if you weren’t a puzzle to be solved.
•••
I STUMBLED HOMEfrom the bar feeling unsettled. I needed some kind of release. Collin was nowhere to be found when I got back, a little buzzed, a little frisky. I should have been more concerned about his whereabouts, but I just wanted to shake off that abysmal happy hour with Syl. Collin was fine, I told myself. He knew what he was doing.
There was no work to catch up on. No scheming to be done. No revenge to plot, at least not until Collin was well enough for me to utilize him properly. I was well and truly bored, which was never a good thing for a girl like me.
I felt like getting into trouble.
Dave Bradford’s number was easy enough to find in my regular hacking of Collin’s computer, phone and tablet. It was just there, waiting for me to use it. We’d just text, I told myself.Maybesext. Perfectly harmless.
Hey, this is Bea,I texted him. So thrilling. So dangerous. Somebody might see it.
I know who it is,he responded within seconds, with the little purple devil face emoji. Flustering. A tawdry retort. He was obviously game.
If you have my number, why haven’t you used it?
Too bold. Dk if Coll sees your msgs or not.
Nothing to hide. It’s just texting.
I settled into the bed, crossing one leg over the other. I was exhilarated. The blue dots came and went a few times on the screen. He was practically strangling me with suspense. Seconds passed, but it felt like minutes. He finally settled on a message.
For now.
I was wet. I did not respond further. Always leave them wanting more.
And I knew I wanted more than just texting.
•••
WANT TO HELPme look at apartments?Dave texted me the following day. I scoffed aloud in my office. Real estate shopping was so intimate. It was a terrible idea.
When?
