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Authors: Francine Pascal

BOOK: Exposed
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There's a part of me that honestly thought, back when we were together, that she still had feelings for Sam. Even though she insisted that she was over him and that they were just friends, seeing the two of them together sparked a crazy, dysfunctional jealousy deep inside. I mean, even to this day I still think they've got an emotional bond. And maybe she can't help it, maybe it's just a part of their connection, but it's there. It came between the two of us when we were together. So who knows? Who knows if she's
cheating on Jake? Clearly it's possible to have feelings for more than one person at a time—lots of people do it. I accused her of the very same thing just a short time ago. I mean, sure, she's amazing, and she's my friend, and she's, like, superwoman strong, but at the end of the day she's just a girl. And stuff like this happens to girls and boys sometimes.

Maybe she's not the girl I thought she was.

Or maybe nobody's perfect, and I'm finally starting to see the stitching behind her seams.

No. No way. Who am I kidding? Gaia has lots of characteristics that are less than perfect, but she isn't a liar or a cheater. Say what you will: she's abrasive, she's confrontational, but at the end of the day, if she's anything, she's unpleasantly honest. Brutally straightforward. And I have to give her the benefit of the doubt. Because that's the Gaia I know and love.

How sick is that?

It was an inexplicable suspicion—and it wasn't going away.

reduced levels of testosterone
“CAN YOU PLEASE PASS THE POTATOES?” Liz asked her mother.

Mrs. Rodke smiled and lifted the silver serving platter, passing the chilled potatoes to her daughter. “I'm so relieved to see you eating carbs. I thought everyone your age avoided them like the devil.”

Face Time
Liz snorted. “Please. Carbohydrates are one of the great joys in my life. I spit in the face of Dr. Atkins—may he rest in peace.”

Her mother mock-winced. “That's a lovely image, dear.”

“What can I say? I'm a lady,” Liz teased. She speared a forkful of potato and chewed away heartily as if to prove her point. She was pretty lucky, she knew, to be able to sit down to dinner with both her parents most nights of the week. She knew plenty of kids her age who communicated with their parents primarily via Post—it notes or whose housekeepers knew their favorite meals by heart. Of course, her mother did have a little help in preparing dinner and running the household, but it was the gesture, the face time, that mattered.

At least, it mattered to Liz. She glanced around the dining-room table, marveling for the umpteenth time at the stunning panoramic view they had of Manhattan. She hoped she never grew tired of that view or began to take it for granted.

Chris and Skyler were clearly less impressed by their parents' attempts at domestic stability. They were both notably absent for dinner.

Even though Skyler was in college and had his own apartment now, he often came home for dinner. And when he wasn't going to make it, he was usually courteous enough to call. The fact that his regular place at the table had been set basically confirmed that he hadn't bothered to do so tonight.
Nice
, Liz thought. She wondered where he was, what he was doing … if he was spending another night with Gaia. It was an icky thought, she realized.

It was odd. Chris had been right earlier today, telling Liz she was strangely obsessed. There was no real reason for her to be twitchy about any sort of “thing” between Gaia and Skyler. After all, Gaia was a cool chick, and Skyler … well, he was her brother. She loved him. Most of the time.

But for some reason, something about it felt wrong to her. It was an inexplicable suspicion—and it wasn't going away.

Liz swallowed what she was eating before turning to her mother. “Hey, uh—did Chris call to say he wasn't coming home?” Her mother nodded. “Yes, he was going to a movie and wasn't sure what time it would let out. I set his place just in case. Why—do you want his carbs?”

Liz smiled. “I might.”

“What I do wonder,” her mother mused, “is what happened to Skyler. It's not like him not to call.”

At this, Liz's father turned away from the newspaper he'd been perusing (domestic stability only extended so far—Liz had learned to be tolerant if her father wanted to read at the table). “Oh, nothing to worry about, I'm sure. He probably just met up with some lady friend and lost track of the time.”

Liz shuddered. “Lady friend'? Dad, you are so hip, I can't stand it.”
And also, I
really
hope Gaia isn't the one causing him to lose track of the time. I don't know
why
I feel that way, but I do. I really, really do
.

“Anyway,” her mother continued, refilling her water glass and taking a sip, “I have to confess, I love both of your brothers dearly, but it's nice to have a break from them once in a while. Boys are so loud! It's more peaceful this way, and you and I get to talk more.” She smiled wryly. “That is, when you're talking to me and not having a teenage moment.”

“Yes, I know how petulant and
adolescent
I can be,” Liz said, smiling to show she was teasing. She knew what her mother meant—it
was
peaceful with the reduced levels of testosterone in the air.

“But yeah, you're right. Down with boys!” she said, raising a fist in the air.

Her father raised a critical eyebrow in her direction.

“C'mon, Dad” Liz prodded, “I love ‘em, but all they ever do is bicker, you know?” Suddenly she found
herself turning serious. “I mean, they always have, but don't you think it's gotten worse lately? Is it my imagination or what?”

Dr. Rodke frowned. “I haven't noticed anything.”

“Okay, maybe I'm losing my mind, but all of their verbal sparring, all of the little jabs here and there—it just seems a little more acute lately. Like there's some tension going on.”

“I can't imagine what it would be,” Mrs. Rodke said, sounding worried.

Instantly Liz felt guilty. Being freakishly paranoid was her own cross to bear. It wasn't right to drag her mother into her little mini-drama—especially since it looked like it was all in her mind. “It's probably nothing,” she amended. “I'm sure I'm taking one little quarrel and blowing it out of proportion. Forget I said anything.”

“Boys will be boys,” her mother agreed, waving her hand dismissively.

“It's Darwinian,” Dr. Rodke said, his voice carrying the weight of educated authority.

“Ah, the scientist posits a theory,” Mrs. Rodke said, winking at her husband.

“Honestly. It's human nature to compete, and the urge is only further exacerbated among brothers. Survival of the fittest, you know.”

“Hmmm,” Liz said, helping herself to more salad. “If only I'd paid closer attention in biology, I'm sure I'd agree with you.”

“I assure you, it's perfectly natural, and it's nothing to worry about,” her father insisted. “Chris and Skyler's relationship is just as one would expect between two brothers.

“As your mother says, boys will be boys.”

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
All right, all right

You've made your point. If you're just going to go all drama queen on me, then fine, yes, let's hang out. I'll even admit it: I miss you. But you will
not
get me to confess my deep dark secrets. After all, they're secret. I like them that way.

I'll be at school tomorrow, and don't even ask where I've been—I'm serious. But I'm thinking we should hit Benny's Burritos after classes let out. Like a mini-celebration of me actually attending all of my classes. 'Cause you know what? It's damn good to be me.

CHRIS WAS CAREFUL TO TURN HIS key slowly in the lock of the front door as he entered his apartment. It was after eleven, and even if his parents were still awake—which, come to think of it, they probably were—well, it wasn't such a good idea to disturb them. As he passed by the dining room, he could see that a place was still laid out at the table for him and Skyler both. So Skyler hadn't come home for dinner either? Interesting. Chris wondered if there was any truth to Liz's psychotic ramblings at school. What were the chances that Skyler was getting it on with Gaia? Chris had
thought
Gaia had better taste than that—and as Liz pointed out, he had also thought Gaia was dating Jake. Strange days.

Vaguely Homicidal
Well, Skyler might have Gaia fooled. And he might have their parents fooled—he certainly had their father fooled, at any rate—but Chris wasn't buying it. Anyone who had any expectations of Skyler at all was sure to be disappointed. Skyler Rodke was all form and no substance. Chris saw right through his big brother's sleazy facade. And he was going to bring his brother down.

Chris wandered into the kitchen to see what sort of leftovers from dinner were stashed in the fridge. Apparently the tub of popcorn he had devoured during
the movie hadn't done the trick
Real food
, he thought.
Need real food
. He pulled open the fridge and peeked inside. He saw some squares of something wrapped in tinfoil—baked chicken cutlets, if he had to guess—and some potatoes and salad tucked away in Tupperware containers. Hours past their suggested serving time, they didn't hold too much appeal.
Scratch the real food
, Chris decided.
Do we have any Doritos?

He closed the door to the refrigerator and jumped.

His father stood in the doorway of the kitchen. And he did not look happy at all.

“Uh, hi,” Chris said awkwardly, wondering what the issue was. It couldn't have been that he was out on a school night—please!—and he had even told his parents where he was going. But his father was looking vaguely homicidal.

“Sit down,” Dr. Rodke hissed, his features dark with anger. “We need to talk”

“Um, okay,” Chris said, casting a last, desperate glance toward the snack cabinet.
No Doritos, then. Okay, maybe later
. He lowered himself onto a stool at the island in the center of the room.

“You have problems with Skyler,” his father stated baldly. It wasn't a question.

“What?” Chris asked, defensive. “What are you talking about?”

Dr. Rodke sighed. “I'm not going to get into this with you, Chris. The fact is that you have strong,
strong issues with your brother. You're jealous. You feel a need to compete.”

“I don't…” Chris began, before a flash of anger overtook him. “I mean, even if I do—what do you care? Can you blame me? You make it pretty clear that he's your favorite. He's the one you're grooming to take over the company. Since when do you give a
crap
about my ‘issues' with Skyler?” he demanded. “Since when can you even be bothered to notice me?”

Instantly his father was in Chris's face, looming. “I noticed, dear son, when it stopped being subtle. I noticed when your sister and your mother noticed. Believe me, I tried to ignore it. I tried to tell myself that it was simple sibling rivalry and that it would fade. But I'm not so sure anymore. And frankly, I'm not interested.”

Chris opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He was dumbfounded. And pissed.

“You want therapy, Chris? We'll get you therapy. I can get you the best shrink in the city, the best that money can buy. But whatever you need to do to get over this, you
will
get over it.

“Because I won't stand for it.”

“But—,” Chris tried to interject.

Dr. Rodke wasn't listening. “What you don't seem to realize, my boy, is that your problems, your petty grievances … well, they've begun to affect me. And
that's unacceptable. I don't know if you're aware, but running an international pharmaceutical company can be something of a high-profile affair. Lots of mentions in the media, lots of people looking out.

“I have to be sure that when they look, they see nothing but a sterling image reflected back at them. And that includes my family. That includes you.”

Chris folded his arms and regarded his father sullenly, silent.

“I won't pretend that I'm especially interested in why you're suddenly feeling so competitive. I don't care. It's in your mind, and I'm far too busy to be bothered. But the point is—and listen to me well, Chris—the point is this: it ends now. I don't want to hear your sister talking about how ‘weird' things are between you and your brother. I don't want
anyone
to notice anything of the sort. To the casual observer—even to the practiced interloper—we are the perfect, happy family. No matter what.”

“So you snap your fingers and just like that all of my feelings go away?” Chris retorted.

‘Oh, yes,” Dr. Rodke assured him. “They most certainly will. Because trust me when I say that whatever's got you so bent out of shape? Well, Chris, I can make it much, much worse.”

He patted Chris on the head, then reached above him to the cabinet over his head and pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. He extended his arm, offering
the bag to Chris. Chris took it, though his appetite was essentially ruined. “Whatever,” Chris said.

Dr. Rodke shot Chris a look that instantly made him rethink his attitude. “Just trust me on this, Chris. I can't have any bad press, and I
won't
take any attitude. So get it together. Or else.”

Okay,
so here's a question—which flavor of Doritos do you prefer? Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch? Don't over-think it; just the first response that comes to your mind.

CHRIS
Dumb question? Not so much, actually. And don't try to tell me that you like them both. Because in the split second after I posed the query, there was a moment when a very particularly flavored corn chip danced before your eyes. Maybe it came in a red bag. Or maybe it came in a blue one. But it was one and not the other. For at least a split second.

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