Parker frowned. “That looks like more me than you, don’t you think?”
“Well then, I’ll buy it for you,” Julie said, marching up to the counter. She slid it across the table to the same college-age girl with green streaks in her hair who always worked there. “I’d like to get this for my friend,” she said, gesturing to Parker behind her.
Something fluttered across the cashier’s face when she looked behind Julie at her friend. People could be so shallow. Julie clenched her fist.
Afterward, they stepped out onto the pavement, walked down the block, and turned onto the main shopping drag. There was a high-end jewelry store, a furnishings place with birdcage chandeliers and thousand-dollar cashmere blankets, a Madewell, a Coach store, a Williams-Sonoma, and several restaurants.
“Julie?”
“Oh, shit,” Parker mumbled.
Julie whirled around. Nyssa stood at the corner, several shopping bags looped around her wrist. Natalie Houma was with her, cell phone in hand.
“It is you!” Nyssa cried. She skipped up to her happily and took Julie’s hand. “You got off the phone earlier too quickly for me to ask, but we’re just about to meet some people at Judy’s Diner. You have to come. Carson is there. He’s been asking about you.” She winked.
Julie blushed. She glanced at Parker, wondering if she’d come, too. But her friend was already gone. Typical.
“Sure,” she said, lowering her shoulders. It might have seemed like she was ditching Parker, but she knew Parker didn’t want to be there. Julie resolved to catch up with her after the appointment. Maybe it would help. Maybe in time Parker would open herself back up to the world and let everyone else see the girl only Julie now knew.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AT SIX THAT NIGHT, PARKER pushed open the door of a nondescript office building in downtown Beacon Heights. The waiting room was empty, save for a few other chairs, a vase of flowers, and some dog-eared magazines. She looked at the second door that led into another hallway. ELLIOT FIELDER, MSW, it said in big letters at the top.
The headshrinker. She so wasn’t looking forward to this, but she’d promised Julie. And now that Nolan’s death was being investigated, it was more important than ever that she learn to keep it together.
The door opened, and a man appeared. He had tousled dark hair, and his eyes were slightly shadowed in a serious, brooding way. He had a lean, muscular runner’s frame. He blinked at her.
“Um . . . ,” he said.
Parker stood up, embarrassed by all the thoughts that had just rushed through her mind. “I’m Parker,” she said. “Parker Duvall. Julie’s friend?”
His gaze remained on her. It wasn’t a gawk, though, just a half squint, as if he was trying to figure out something about her. Then he cleared his throat and took her clipboard. “Oh, right. Julie mentioned you’d be coming. Come on in and sit down.”
She walked past him into the office. The overhead fluorescent light was off, but a few floor lamps gave off a gentle glow from the corners of the room. Outside the window, the sky was as flat and gray as her mood.
She flopped down on the loveseat, throwing her legs up over one arm.
Fielder shut the door and sat down on a desk chair, pulling it out to the middle of the room. For a few moments, he stared at her with an expression she couldn’t read. The wall clock ticked off the minutes of silence.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” she finally snapped. “I realize I have scars. You don’t have to make me feel like more of a freak.”
Fielder frowned. “Scars?”
Parker scoffed. “Good party trick, doctor. But they’re right here.” She gestured to her face, half hidden under her hoodie. “I know my face looks like it went through a meat processor, okay?”
“I don’t see any scars,” Fielder said defiantly. He licked his lips. “I’m sorry, Parker. It’s just that Julie has told me a little about you, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised you came today.”
What had Julie said? Probably the same crap she said to Parker every day—It’s like you’ve just given up. If you’d just make an effort. Blah, blah, blah. “Julie’s my best friend, and she thinks she knows it all. But sometimes, she’s wrong.”
He smiled a little. “Julie is worried about you, Parker.”
She snorted. “Julie worries about everything. I can take care of myself. I mean, I’ve been through hell, and I’m still standing. That’s got to count for something, Dr. Fielder.”
He nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Please, call me Elliot. And I’m not actually a doctor. I’m a counselor, which means I’m more interested in listening to you than fixing you. Okay?”
Parker frowned warily. Call me Elliot. I’m interested in listening. I don’t see any scars. This guy was full of lines.
“And you’re right,” he continued. “You’re obviously a tough girl, Parker. A fighter. But that doesn’t mean that you have to deal with all this alone.”