White Lady (16 page)

I didn’t cave. Didn’t take another pill. I feel like I’ve run a marathon. And my hands are bit shaky. But I also feel good about myself for once, despite feeling so run-down. I was only taking the pills on and off for two weeks, so it can’t get any worse, can it?

I think about the weekend. About the dizziness I felt when I mouthed “murder.” What does this say about me? It’s a scary thought. It’s not TV. It’s real. And a part of
my
life.

I am needed. Despite what I look like. And that feels good.

Is it weird that it excites me? Could it be that the possibility of danger just hasn’t hit me yet? Or could it be that I am, deep down, one of
them
? The kind of person that gets a thrill from the chase?

I’ve seen on TV how organized crime can get totally out of control. I’ve seen how a happy family household can turn into a bloody slaughterhouse within seconds. I’ve seen how one stupid mistake, one stupid little fuckup, can turn into the murder of those in its wake.

Anything could happen now. Couldn’t it?

Once I start this.

And—

Man,
what
am I
thinking
?

I take a deep breath. Some birds tweet in the background. Someone approaches.

“I knew you’d be here.”

I remove my arm from my face and open my eyes. Kimi is hovering over me. I sit up.

“How?”

Kimi shrugs. “Just did.” She kneels down next to me and tilts her head. She strokes my cheek. “You look pretty in the sunlight.”

I want to slap her hand away, but then I realize this could be the perfect opportunity to make Kimi trust me and tell me what I need to know.

I smile and lean my head into her hand. For a split second, she looks surprised. Her breath shudders and she inches forwards. I close my eyes. I know what she wants. I’ve known ever since the day she pushed me against her dresser. I don’t know what I’m scared of. The fact that I’ve never been with a girl before, or that I’m starting to like the idea of it?

I’m just going to do it. It’s the only way to figure out where Kimi stands anyway.

Kimi leans over me, inches closer to my lips. I close my eyes. She smells like a mix of jasmine and fairy floss. The heat of her breath brushes against my lips right before she kisses me. Lips closed. Gentle, like we’re two little sisters.

Kimi hovers her face above mine without touching. Her breath stops for a moment, then she kisses me again. This time she parts my lips with her tongue. She tastes like peach schnapps.

My crotch starts to burn and pulsate. I want more. But I’m scared. Not of her touching me. But of me liking it so much that I lose sight of what I’m trying to do.

I need to make this about her. Not me. So I slip my hand between Kimi’s legs and under her knickers. Kimi groans, rolls onto her back, and spreads her legs wider. Now I’m on top of her and have one of her legs between mine. She’s so wet that my forefingers slip inside her with hardly any force.

She fingers at the waistband of my tracksuit.

“Pull them down,” she whispers.

“Out here?”

“Why not?”

“Why don’t you just——” I bend over and thrust my tongue into Kimi’s mouth, then gently bite her bottom lip “—let me make
you
come.”

Now I am in control. It feels like a miracle. Is it really this easy? Is this maybe all Kimi has wanted all along? To get into my pants?

Breathless, Kimi pulls the collar of her T-shirt into her mouth and bites it. I flick my fingers over her clit until she comes. She arches her back and takes my hand from between her legs and licks my fingers.

Oh. My. God. That is so disgusting. The thought of tasting myself makes me want to gag, but I hide it behind a forced “sexy” smile.

Kimi rolls over onto her stomach and starts to laugh.

I chuckle a bit. I can’t believe I just had lesbian sex. And pretty much enjoyed it (except for that last bit, of course.) I don’t know why she’s laughing, but my chuckle is definitely a nervous reaction.

We lie in silence for a few minutes until I find the courage to bring up Mick.

“So, uh, are you going to tell me what I have to do now?”

“Huh?” Kimi looks to her left. “About what?”

“Mick.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kimi smiles, takes a deep breath, and pushes her skirt between her knees as she slowly exhales.

“Well, I don’t actually want to
hurt
him. I was just winding you up. I thought you looked like the type of person who liked to, you know, punch.”

“Oh, man. You’re kidding me, right?” So this
was
all because she wanted to get into my pants?

“Nope. I just need something he has.”

“Oh. What does he have?”

Kimi smirks, sits up, and moves her eyebrows up and down. “Some kick-arse weapons.”

Whoa. Maybe she
is
doing this for Mick’s dad.

I pick at a fingernail, trying to look casual, like this information isn’t really that important to me.

“What do you need them for?” I say.

Kimi cranes her neck. “Do you have any idea how much money that shit is worth?”

I shrug. I’m not meant to know. “Maybe.”

“If I can get them and sell them,” she says, then bites her bottom lip, “then I’m set, and I can get the hell outta here.”

I nod, look at my left palm, and trace my lifeline with my ring finger. Should I just ask about her connection to Ibrahim? Would she freak out? Would she call the whole thing off if she thought I was onto her?

But on the flip side, maybe I should take this chance. What if I don’t find myself in this kind of situation again? I can’t imagine Kimi ditching me now, but I don’t think I can take that chance. Kimi seems the most relaxed I have ever seen her, and let’s face it, I am in control, finally, whether she realizes this or not.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I keep my tone as casual as possible.

Kimi lifts her arms, lies back down, and rests her head on her hands. She closes her eyes and smiles into the sun. “Sure. Shoot.”

“Are you okay?” I know this is probably treading on dangerous territory, but it’s the only way I’m going to get what I need. “I mean … at home?”

Kimi’s flicks her eyes and shades them with her hand. “Why you asking me that?”

I shrug again and adopt a look of concern.

“It’s just … those scars. I mean, if you don’t want to actually hurt Mick, then I’m assuming that he didn’t, you know, do that.” I nod towards Kimi’s stomach.

Kimi closes her eyes again and smiles tight-lipped.

Here goes.

“Has it got anything to do with your foster dad?”

Kimi’s throat moves like she’s swallowing a marble, and a tear falls down her left temple.

Silence.

Maybe this isn’t what I thought at all. Maybe Kimi’s attitude is all show.

“Is he hurting you? Is that why you need cash? To get away?”

Kimi sits up slowly, staring at nothingness. She clutches at her necklace as if she’s about to yank it off, but she doesn’t. She just rests her hand there. On her chest. Fingers hooked around the gold chain. It has a tiny dragon hanging from it. I wouldn’t have even been able to tell what it was if I wasn’t so close to her.

“If I tell you the truth”—Kimi lowers her voice—“you have to promise me, I mean really promise me, you won’t tell anyone.”

“Of course.”

“He’s not really my foster dad.” She swallows. “He took me in one night. I was out of it. High. Lying on the side of the road. I’d been attacked by someone. I don’t know who it was. They did this.” Kimi rubs her fingers over her scar. “Then they beat me, and, yeah, anyway, I was sure I was going to die that night. But he saved me. I’ve been living with him ever since.” Kimi clenches her jaw.

“What’s this guy’s name?” Of course, I know it. But I have to seem legit.

“Dunno,” she says. Kimi laughs. Which is kinda weird.

“How’s that possible?”

“He won’t say. I just call him Daddy.”

“Daddy?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Yeah. Pretty fucked, isn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you just leave straight away and find a shelter or something?”

“You kidding? The guy is loaded. All I have to do is … do stuff for him every couple of days, and I live like a queen.”

Stuff? If that stuff is what I think it is, that is fucking gross. I’m so glad Mick wants to get out of that kind of life.

We both pick at the grass.

“So how come you even bother coming to school?” I say after a few moments of silence.

“It’s his cover.” Kimi smiles, but immediately looks as if she regretted saying it. Sex has definitely made her vulnerable, and now I feel guilty. “Shit. Mia, you can’t talk to anyone about this. I’m not supposed to say anything. I’d be totally screwed if he found out I’d even suggested he exists.”

“Okay. Don’t worry.” I touch Kimi’s knee. “What’s he hiding from?”

“Fucked if I know. All I know is that I’m still alive, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You don’t have to live like this, Kimi. I can get you some help.”

Kimi laughs again. “I don’t need your help. I can look after myself.”

So how does she know about the weapons? Does she know that he’s Mick’s dad?

“Uh, just out of curiosity, how did you find out Mick has these weapons?”

Kimi stares at me in silence. I can’t tell whether it’s fear or a pending threat shining through her eyes.

“Just overheard some phone conversation, that’s all.”

Something isn’t quite right here. But I feel like I should back off now. Something in her voice has changed. It’s defensive.

Kimi twists her hair to the front of her shoulder and combs her fingers through it, squinting at the ground. It looks like she’s biting the inside of her cheek. She’s hiding something else. I know it.

“Look, are you going to help me get them or not?”

“I’m on your side, man. You don’t need to get upset with me. But can I ask
you
a favour too?”

Kimi takes a deep breath and sighs like it’s an apology. “Anything.”

“Can you hold off on stealing that shit a bit longer?”

Kimi frowns. “Why?”

“I have a better idea to get you outta there.”

Chapter 40

Celeste: Home sweet home.

I collect my Louis Vuitton luggage off the conveyor belt, contemplating going back to duty free to pick up some perfume. I have to smell perfect when I drop in to see Nash. I need him to melt. Like he used to. In the crook of my neck.
Purr
ing. We used to be the perfect couple. The couple everyone believed would go the distance, you know?

What a stupid mistake it was to leave him. If only I’d known that all Karter ever wanted me for was decoration, then I wouldn’t have even bothered. Yes, I admit it, I married him for the money. I was tired of being the suburban housewife, tired of picturing myself forty years from now, old, grey, wrinkly—fat. But I married Karter over a delusion that he might help me become the next Jane Fonda. Invest some money in me starting my own fitness studio and produce some workout videos. I honestly wanted to help people become the beauty queens they’d dreamed about being since their debutant balls.

How stupid I was to think he’d want to do that for me. All he did was shape me into an accessory. One he could perpetually have hanging from his arm during public appearances.

I was gullible.

Of course he couldn’t find a wife.

Anyone smart enough would have seen through his charm and run a mile. But did I? Of course not. I had my eye on the riches and got distracted. And all for what? I lost my family because I—what? Felt a little old? Midlife crisis drama? So, the boys go for the red-hot Ferrari and the girls for the red-hot post-cosmetic surgery skin abrasions.

Clever.

I deserve to be blond.

I’m never going to convince Nash to love me again. I know this. I devastated him. And he’ll never forgive me for devastating Mia. How could I have been so selfish? But I honestly thought that it would only be a matter of time before she’d come running to me, begging to live with me in LA. I am shocked that she didn’t. That she enjoys living with a man who has to go to high school until he retires.

How horribly sad and boring.

What happened to his aspirations?

If there is a will, there is a way. He can’t blame my getting pregnant for his own decision to quit football.

So I have decided, seeing as there is no turning back, that the only way to get my family on track is to embrace who I have become—a selfish, shallow, money-sucking, life-sucking desperate housewife.

I don’t regret telling Nash about the “assault.” Not. One. Single. Bit. I’ve got nothing to lose. If it works? Bonus. If it doesn’t, I’ve got plenty of Xanax to top myself with while anonymously accommodated in the penthouse at the Hilton.

My luggage finally comes swinging around the bend. I snatch it off the conveyor belt, wheel it out of customs, focusing straight ahead with a plastic smile on my face. Literally. I got one last Botox injection before I left. I couldn’t resist.

I pause a few metres away from the sliding doors leading to the taxi line, gulp at the sensation of my tingling limbs and my spinning head.

I release my grip on my suitcase. It drops to the floor with a thud that hangs thick in my ears, and I rummage through my handbag for the Xanax. I haven’t had one for forty-eight hours. I know exactly what’s going on.

Withdrawal.

With trembling hands I open the bottle of pills, then shake some into my palm. A couple slip between my fingers and fall to the floor. Suffocating on my own breath, I bend down to pick them up, but the bottle slips from my hand. Pills scatter all over the hard white floor like sundried pieces of my brain.

“Shit!” I shriek, then fall to my hands and knees, scampering to gather them into a pile. I lick my middle finger and press down on a couple so they stick, then lick them off my fingers.

I taste the oily grime from the airport floor and wince.

I’ve consumed worse.

I sense people stare as they walk by. The sliding doors sigh with impatience every time they open and close. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and sit up. My black stilettoed feet slip to the side of my thighs like a kindergarten kid in a classroom.