Page 53 of Little Secrets
She disconnects but keeps the phone in her hand. Figure what out? J.R. was obviously thinking she could get from Derek what she got from Paul, but maybe that was never the way this was going to go. She blew this one, big time.
Her building is nothing special to look at from the outside, but the lobby and hallways are always kept lit. The sensation of eyes crawling all over her is still there as she gets to the lobby door and sticks her key into the lock. Only when the heavy door closes behind her does she allow herself to exhale. She might not have seen anyone, but that doesn’t mean there was nobody there.
The elevators work, but they’re slow, and her apartment’s on the second floor. She’s fast on the stairs and is at the last step when the door to the stairwell opens. It’s Tyler. By the looks of it, he’s headingout to work; he’s wearing his good jeans and a white T-shirt that shows off his olive skin. He’s a bartender who works nights, and she’s a barista who works mornings. When they’re not working, they’re in class. Still, they used to be able to make time for each other. Tyler hates that Derek is married.
Married men have a way of ruining friendships.
“Hey.” Her roommate skips past her, careful not to let their shoulders brush. He avoids her gaze.
“Hey to you, too.” Kenzie pauses at the top of the stairs to look down at him. This is ridiculous. They’ve been living together for two years, goddamn it. She uses his hair paste. He eats her granola bars. They both still use his ex-boyfriend’s Netflix login and password. They should be able to work this out. She wants to tell him about Derek, but not here, in the stairwell. “I owe you a breakfast. Free tomorrow?”
He stops and looks up. “Breakfast? Seriously?”
“Or lunch?”
He shakes his head and continues on his way. “Buford puked in your bed. It’s all over your sheets so you’ll have to wash everything. I think he’s been eating the flowers.”
She groans. The cat only does that when he gorges. “Wait. What flowers?”
“Someone sent you flowers this morning. I put them in your room.” He pauses and looks up again. “And forget breakfast and lunch, we’re doing dinner tomorrow, bitch. You’re taking me somewhere nice.”
She catches a glimpse of his grin before he’s out of sight, and just like that, some of the day’s awfulness lifts. She’s not going to screw this one up. Ty wants nice? She’ll give him nice. She’ll treat him to the Metropolitan Grill, using a bit of the cash Derek gave her. They’ll order steaks and cocktails and share a tableside bananas Foster for dessert, and she’ll let Tyler tell her what an asshole she’s been for the past six months. Hell, while she’s there, maybe she’ll drop off a résumé. The servers must kill it in tips.
Buford is yowling the second she opens the apartment door, so she feeds him a can of Iams before she heads into her room. Cat vomit is drying in several places on the bed, and it’s green-tinged. She spies the reason—the small bouquet of spring flowers sitting on the dresser. They’re pretty, but not exactly romantic. Maybe Derek isn’t a dozen-red-roses kind of guy. Her heart palpitates as she reaches for the small white envelope nestled into the flowers.Please please please, let these be from him.The penmanship on the card inside the envelope is elegant—obviously someone at the flower shop has beautiful handwriting—but the message is depressing. And it’s not from Derek.
Happy birthday to my sweet girl. Miss you. Love, Mom
The guilt consumes Kenzie then. Her birthday isn’t for another four months, which can only mean that her mom is getting worse. Sharon Li has been a resident of the Oak Meadows Assisted Living Facility in Yakima for two years now, and her early-onset Alzheimer’s seems to be progressing at a more rapid pace. This is the second bouquet of birthday flowers she’s received from her mother in the past three months.
The cat jumps up onto the dresser, nearly knocking over the vase. She catches it just in time.
“Buford!” she snaps. The cat swishes his tail arrogantly in return. She can see where he’s been chewing leaves, and there are bite marks on several of the stems. “This is why you barfed on my bed, you little shit. And now I have to do laundry again when I just did it the other day.”
She shouldn’t be yelling at the cat. Right now, he’s the only friend she has left. She gathers up the soiled bedsheets, shoving them into a cloth laundry bag. It only takes up half the space, so she emptiesthe few items from her hamper into it as well, then heads back down the stairs.
The laundry room is in the “bowels” of the building, which is the nickname Tyler assigned the basement, not because it stinks, but because it’s dark, damp, and you’re happiest when you’re coming out. Also, it’s spooky. The basement is kept dimmer than the rest of the building, and there’s a long hallway from the stairwell to the laundry room, filled with shadows and strange clanking noises that make her nervous. Once again she feels her skin prickling with the sensation of being watched, but when she turns around, there’s nobody there.
The laundry room itself, at least, is brightly lit. She darts inside, exhaling when the door shuts behind her. There’s a washing machine free at the far end, and she empties the contents of her bag into it and sticks her Coinamatic card into the pay slot. The little light beside the card reader flashes red. It’s supposed to turn green.
“Shit,” she says.
The digital display shows a card balance of two dollars. It’s $3.25 for a regular wash, which means she’ll have to dash back upstairs to get her credit card to reload it using the Coinamatic machine in the corner of the room. But her Visa and MasterCard are both maxed out, and she hasn’t used Derek’s cash to pay them down yet. And of course none of the machines accept actual bills. Sometimes technology sucks. You can’t even do basic things without a credit card these days.
“Shit,” she says to herself again, trying to decide on the best course of action.
“A little short on funds?” a raspy voice says, and she nearly screams.
She whirls around to find Ted Novak, the superintendent who lives on the first floor, standing behind her. She didn’t notice him come in, or hear his footsteps as he crossed the laundry room floor toward her. He doesn’t appear to be doing much of anything, and he’s holding nothing—no phone, no hamper, no fabric softener, nokeys. He’s simply standing there, staring at her, like a fucking psychopath.
She doesn’t like Ted. She’s never liked Ted. From the day she moved in, he’s given her the creeps for reasons Kenzie can’t quite articulate. He doesn’t say or do anything inappropriate. He doesn’t make suggestive comments or tell offensive jokes. He doesn’t leer. But when you’re talking to him, there’s… something missing. A light in his eyes that should be there but isn’t. If he smiles, which is rare, it doesn’t feel genuine. And if he laughs—which is even rarer—the sound is canned, almost forced, like he’s only doing it because social protocol dictates that he’s supposed to, even though he doesn’t exactly understand what’s funny.
“I need to reload my card.” She starts backing up toward the door. She almost says,Be right back, but catches herself in time. What if he waits for her?
He moves closer to her, pulling something out of his back pocket. His Coinamatic card. “Here. Use mine. Save you the trip back up and down the stairs. You can reload when you come back down to dry.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t—” she says, but he’s already removed her card and stuck his into the slot in its place. The light turns green and the screen shows a balance of nearly a hundred bucks, the maximum.
“Go ahead.” Ted steps aside. “Choose your cycle.”
