An Honest Lie(78)

25


Now


“Braithe, do you hear me? Do not eat or drink what he gives you... Braithe!”

Braithe wasn’t hearing her; she was lying on her side on the ground, still handcuffed to the table, but Ginger had left her legs free. He must not see her as much of a flight risk. That was good. If he underestimated Braithe, they could use that.

Rainy had been trying to wake her for a good thirty minutes, ever since Ginger had left, clanking her handcuffs against the table leg and calling out to her. But she was seriously dehydrated and her vocal cords were raw from the screaming she’d done in the freezer. She didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but the little fucker had run off without gagging her.

He’d let her out of the freezer, his nose bandaged and his eyes looking slightly doped. Good. Rainy figured he’d gone to urgent care and come right back, even though it hadn’t felt like right back. But the four or five hours she’d spent in the cold had seemed like much more. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep, and when she’d woken up, Ginger had been standing over her. Without speaking he’d dragged her out of the freezer and back to her spot against the table leg. As soon as he ripped the duct tape from her face, she’d said, “I’d like to upgrade to a suite.”

He’d shoved her down, hard. The back of her head hit the table and she moaned, dropping her chin to her chest, dizzy. He didn’t use the handcuffs to secure her to the table this time: Rainy saw him reach for his pocket, where he pulled out pink zip ties. He secured her arms around the table leg with the zip ties before he took off the cuffs and tossed them aside. Pink zip ties. She almost asked if he’d ordered them on Amazon, but she wanted a shot at some water.

Pink, pink, your feet stink! She could hear her dad yelling that across their small apartment living room before charging for her: the tickle monster. Had he been high when he’d done that? Drunk? On a sober kick? Did she care? He was never scary to her; his sideburns were too big to be taken seriously and his laugh was contagious. Pink. She felt encouraged: this was so stupid and yet so real. Her dad had taught her how to break someone’s nose with her forehead; he’d demonstrated it many times in their living room. She’d thought it was hilarious, especially when he mimicked grabbing an imaginary someone by their shirt collar and rearing back his head, to “head-bash” them as he’d called it. “This is how you do it, Summer, are you watching?” Little had she known how that lesson would serve her now.

“Time out for noisemaking?” she asked. He didn’t look at her, not in the mood for jokes after getting his ass beat, she supposed. Oh, how smug you are, tied-up woman! she told herself. Either way, she could see the dark bruises beneath his eyes and it pleased her somewhere deep and feral: she’d got him good. Thanks, Dad.

Ginger had said no one could hear them because the restaurant was in a wing that was being remodeled, yet he was never winded when he arrived with his armful of groceries. That meant the elevators were probably working, and Ginger—as staff—would have access to the key codes that would allow him up here. He didn’t seem at all worried about the sound.

When she looked over at Braithe, she was sitting up. It took a minute for Rainy’s mind to catch up to what she was seeing. She tried to say Braithe’s name, but it caught in her dry throat.

“Rainy—” Braithe’s voice was so shocking in the silence that for a few seconds Rainy’s tongue stayed glued to the roof of her mouth as she tried to work it free.

“Rainy...” she said again, more desperately.

“Y—es. I’m here.” It had not felt real until now, a fever dream, but with Braithe’s cracked voice filling the room, Rainy started to wake up.

“I’m so sorry. I never imagined...” It sounded like it hurt for her to speak. Rainy saw her look longingly toward the water bottle. She made a noise that sounded like she was trying to clear her throat. She knew it was ridiculous, given the situation they were in, but she needed to know.

“He’ll come back soon. What happened between you and Grant during the baby shower?”

The kitchen retuned to an awkward silence. Rainy could hear Braithe’s labored breaths.

“Nothing,” she said finally. “God, absolutely nothing.”

“But you tried...”

Her answer came slower this time, labored. “Yes, I tried.”

“Why did you pretend to be my friend?” She licked her lips. Everything hurt.

“That was real. I like you.”

Rainy tried to laugh but it was just a crackle. Braithe had used her to have more access to Grant: the couples’ nights, the dinners, had put her in his life more soundly than it had with just her and Stephen. Now, in light of everything, she was seeing Braithe differently. Not as the elegant, kind friend, but as a conniving, manipulative liar. Maybe she had liked Rainy, but it was only to use her.

“But you liked Grant more.”

“Yes, I suppose you could see it like that. At first, I thought I was making the right choice, with Stephen,” she said softly. “He was so good to me, and Grant...well, he was never as into me as I was into him, if I’m being honest. When we were together, I was like an afterthought. I suppose that’s when the addiction really started.”

“The addiction to what, Braithe? To Grant? To wanting what you don’t have?”