My muscles unwound. “Just the unit clicking on.” I felt the flush behind my cheeks, radiating like a sunburn. My breathing was heavy. “Let’s go, though. We need to make sure we get this finished. We don’t have much time.”
She didn’t stop to ask why. Whatever I was, whatever we were, Lena had accepted it. She snapped the camcorder shut. “It’s this way.” I imagined her heart pounding beneath the thin sweater she wore and wondered if the possibility of getting caught made her wary or made her want to chase the rush, too.
I glanced once more at the stage, then followed Lena up the dark center aisle. We reached a short flight of stairs, scaled them, and found ourselves in a small glass room with a bird’s-eye view of the auditorium.
“This”—Lena plopped into a rolling chair and spun around—“is my domain.” She brushed her hands over the controls. There were two large monitors in the corner and a panel of switches and sliding knobs.
I took the seat beside her. “Great. Now tell me, what can you do with this?” I pulled out the memory card and placed it on the soundboard.
Lena took it and inserted the memory card into the side of the computer. She punched a few buttons and the screens lit up. She tilted her chin to stare into the blue glow. One monitor populated with the rows of thumbnails that I’d first seen in Mick’s room. This time, I told myself, I wouldn’t flinch.
Lena double clicked and the beginning of the video loaded on the first monitor with an editing bar along the bottom ribbon. I watched her face as the video began to play on low volume. Her forehead wrinkled. She chewed the side of her thumb and scooted her chair closer to the screens. “What is this?” She clicked to another clip and sucked in a sharp breath. “Am I on here?”
“You’re in good company,” I said.
She followed up with more taps of the mouse and then she froze the screen and zoomed in on her own tear-streaked face. “What do you want me to do with … all of these?” she whispered. “Marcy, I’m not sure I like this.”
“I want you to make them come to me. All of them. Tell a story. Make them understand that if they don’t come, they all have something to lose and the whole world will know who they are. Oh, and I’m going to need to ship you a few things. That I order. Okay?”
I’d pulled closer to Lena as I spoke. She smelled sickly sweet, like overripe raspberries and Bath & Body Works lotion. I could hear the spit slide down her throat when she swallowed. “Okay.” Her breath tickled my face. “Okay, I can do that.”
She returned my gaze for another moment and then turned back to the computer and began a maddening flurry of keystrokes. She was possessed. It was like seeing a girl get sucked into a screen and disappear before my eyes. That was how entranced she was by the work. I watched her slice and cut reels of footage and rearrange them. She placed earbuds into her ears and replayed the bits until she made a decision about them. Occasionally, she’d twitch at what she was watching on the monitor, but mostly her face stayed neutral, businesslike.
I began pacing the room behind her. Late night hours slid into early morning. I leaned on the back of her chair and watched over her shoulder until at last she pulled the headphones from her ears and tilted her chin up to me. “It’s finished, I think,” she said.
I nodded and she pressed “play.” At the end, we had the story of three boys. Jessup Franklin, junior, “devoted” boyfriend, son of wealthy Silicon Valley parents, the one I’d called California. Alex McClung—the skeleton-faced, cigarette-toting Lucky Strike—senior, son of a respected professor at the university. Then there was the worst of them all. The face of nightmares. The smile with a forked tongue. Tate Guffrey, senior, former backup quarterback, son of a Dearborn congressman. Circus Master.
The faces flickered across the screen, each one prominently featured, zoomed in on, examined, and interspersed with taunts and jeers and girls. I was noticing that both Lena and I were missing from the reels when the final shot panned. It was Lena on her knees.
“You included yourself,” I said in a soft voice. “Why?” When there were so many girls to choose from, I wasn’t sure I understood. She hadn’t included me, after all.
“This is the part I can contribute to. This is the part of my story I get to direct. They have to watch. You’ll make them.”
She tapped the “escape” button and the video player disappeared.
Below us, the auditorium was empty, but as I stood behind Lena, I applauded. With the video clips, she’d created a movie. It was all I wanted and more. Now, they would have to come.
“It’ll work?” she asked, resting her hands in her lap and staring down at them. I could feel more than see the blush in her cheeks.
“It’s horrific,” I said. “Which is actually perfect.”
She stared up at me and I looked down at her, our eyes finding each other. And without asking, I bent down and kissed her.
NINETEEN
Cassidy