“I think you’re overacting.” Taured’s voice sounded strained.
“She’s a fifteen-year-old girl whose mother has just died. She’s collapsed, she could be severely dehydrated or worse. He said she was a runaway, yet here she is. She’s telling us she’s been abused. She needs to be checked out physically.” O’Connor was addressing one of her male colleagues. Summer’s heart was pounding so hard she wondered if they could hear it.
“She’s grieving, she’s exhausted,” Taured argued. “We will take very good care of her. Tom here has been her doctor for the last five years. Gentlemen...?”
Taured did not like when women acted like men, as he called it. He was petitioning to the men in the room: he assumed the men had more power.
There were several lingering seconds, and then Nava spoke. “It would be best if she were taken to a hospital and checked out thoroughly. The ambulance is on the way.” There was a silence so abrupt and thick Summer had trouble keeping still. And then she heard it: the sound of the siren, so beautiful. It would take her out of this place.
20
Now
After she checked into her room, Rainy FaceTimed with Grant.
She was jarred when she saw his unshaven face.
“Do you like it?” he asked, stroking a week’s worth of facial hair. She knew that he shaved every day, but she’d had no idea he could grow a beard that quickly. It made her wonder what else she didn’t know about him.
“It’s different,” she said. In truth, she hated it. It reminded her of Taured.
His eyes were laughing as he fingered his chin. “Don’t worry, it’ll be gone by the time I get home. The guys here wanted me to do it because they didn’t believe I could grow a full beard in a week.” And then he showed her the view outside of his hotel and Rainy oohed and aahed. When he sat back down and they settled into their chat, she lost the will to describe the trip. She kept him busy, talking about things on his end, but finally he asked the dreaded question: “So how did it go, huh? Did you have fun or what, party girl?”
“As much fun as a party girl would have in...the library.”
She was choosing her words carefully. She’d also chosen to sit against a white wall while she FaceTimed him so he wouldn’t know she wasn’t home. She hoped the news hadn’t reached him yet. She didn’t feel like explaining. She couldn’t even explain to herself what she thought she was still doing here.
His laugh was infectious, and she missed him fiercely. “Eight more days,” she said.
“Eight more days,” he repeated in the low drawl that meant intimate things only they understood. They hung up and Rainy wrestled with the guilt of her dishonesty. First, she’d insisted that she didn’t want to go on the trip, and then she’d extended said trip—which reminded her that she hadn’t booked her flight back yet. Now that she was here, somehow the drive to go back to the place where the nightmare had started had felt natural, unavoidable. She’d needed to go, that’s all she knew, and she hadn’t even made it to the compound—just skirted Friendship’s shitty main street. Now she was in a single room at the same hotel she’d shared with the Tiger Mountain girls, curled on top of the covers like a shrimp. What ending was she looking for?
She must have fallen asleep, because some while later, Rainy woke to the sound of her phone. It wasn’t a regular ring—it was FaceTime again. It was ten o’clock, and it was dark outside her window.
Tara’s name and photo were on her screen. Ignoring the instant anxiety at seeing Tara’s name, Rainy reset her face into a pleasant smile and hit Accept.
Tara’s lumpy ponytail told her that some type of shit had hit some type of fan.
“Is everything okay?” Rainy asked. Tara had never FaceTimed her.
“It’s Braithe.” The words were out of Tara’s mouth before she could say anything else. She was wearing an oversize Seahawks sweatshirt with a bleach stain on the shoulder.
“What about her?”
“She texted me a few hours ago, said she was unhappy with Steve and that...that psychic person told her to—to—leave! She says she’s not coming back.”
Rainy swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the minifridge. She needed to buy a few seconds and unfold these sentences, which weren’t making sense. Reaching in, she grabbed a water; pausing, she thought better of just the water and took out the vodka and OJ, as well.
“Rainy, did you hear me? We have to do something. She hasn’t even told Stephen...he’s in Japan, for God’s sake. He doesn’t even know she’s not back.”
Rainy propped the phone against the coffee machine and made her drink. Tara stared at her from the other side of the screen.
Finally, Rainy said, “Why is that any of our business?”
Tara gaped. Her eyes were watery pink. “Are you kidding me? She’s our friend. She’s making the biggest mistake of her life and we... I don’t know...” Tara waved a hand above her head. “We’re partially responsible.”
“Why?” Rainy said. “Because we happened to be there?”
“Yes, because we were there! And none of us knew what she was feeling. She’s been miserable all this time and we carried on without asking her how she was. We should have known something was off when she wanted to see a psychic!”
Rainy took a sip of her warm screwdriver and sat on the love seat.
“First of all, Tara, you all peddled the psychic thing to me as fun, so why would I think it was Braithe’s cry for help?” She unscrewed the cap on her water and chugged it down. The cold water seared her insides. She closed one eye and said, “Maybe you’re the one feeling guilty. Because she’s your best friend and you didn’t know. That doesn’t mean I want to join you. I’ve only known Braithe for a year.”
Tara’s mouth fell open again, which Rainy thought was dramatic. If Tara wanted to get involved in whatever drama Braithe was swimming around in, so be it. Rainy didn’t want any part of it.
“It’s because of you, you know.” Tara’s voice was acidic and slurred. Rainy was pretty sure she’d had her own version of a screwdriver before this call.
For the last two days, Rainy had agonized over what she had done to upset the women, so this accusation stung even more. The fact that Tara would blame her for anything in regard to Braithe was ridiculous.
“What the hell, Tara?” she said slowly. “You guys begged me to go on the trip, then pretty much iced me out after the first day, and now you’re trying to blame me for Braithe’s decisions?”
Tara sighed, ducking her head. Her ponytail fell forward over her shoulder, and when she looked up, her eyes looked like they did in her marathon photos, the ones Rainy had seen online. Fierce, determined. Tara was ready to square off with her.
“Braithe and Grant used to be a thing. Did you know that?”
Tara’s words trickled like ice water into her brain. So it was true.
“She dated him before Stephen, and she chose Stephen...but you know how old love never dies.” Her voice trailed off suggestively.
“Grant would have told me.” Rainy’s voice was firm, but her mind was bulging with questions. Would Grant have told her if he’d dated Braithe? It had never been implied; no one ever brought it up. But Stephen was his best friend: there was just no way.
Tara was studying her face. She said, “Stephen knows—he was around when they dated. He sort of felt like he stole the girl and was always grateful to Grant for being so cool about it.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
Tara smiled, knowing she’d hit her target; Rainy was visibly upset now. “What do you think all of this has been? The invites, being the favorite new person she shines her light on—she’s interested in you. Sure, she may even like you, but it’s only because you’re with Grant. Grant being the beginning and end of everything she’s done since she realized she married the wrong guy.”
“This is nuts, Tara. You have no right to tell me this. These aren’t your stories to tell.”