Never Have I Ever(70)

And everyone would know. Davis and Maddy, my friends and neighbors, my coworkers and acquaintances. In their eyes I would be at best crazy, at worst a monster. That story would enter every room with me, forever, a tide of whispers surging all around me. She killed her mother, then crept back, years later, insinuated herself into her life, and Charlotte never knew. . . .

This was the real threat, more tangible than jail. This was the thing I could not endure. Some, those who loved me, might listen to my side of the story. But even then—perhaps in their eyes I would be no better than Roux. I had, after all, done what pleased me and fed me and made me feel whole, all the while telling myself a version of the story that turned me into the hero. I couldn’t bear for Char, my family, the world to see me in this light; I could hardly stand to see myself.

“Right, Amy?” Char said.

I had no idea what they were discussing, but I instantly said, “Right,” backing her the way I always did.

“Well, I can’t blame her. He’s a beautiful boy,” Roux said, her tone dismissive. I realized they’d been talking about Luca. Luca and Maddy. I assumed Char was asking out of concern, not matchmaking again. “Luca doesn’t think of her like that. Not at all.”

Char peered around Roux, trying to catch my eye. “What do you think, Amy? You’re so quiet.”

“Sorry, I’m tired,” I said. Her gaze lingered, concerned, and I could feel Roux’s eyes boring into me as well. “I think they’re just friends.”

I smiled, bland and reassuring, even though I could hardly bear to keep my eyes on her. Lolly was back, alive in her face, in her voice, in her nervous little mouse hands tucking her hair behind her ears. I was taking a walk with my guilt made flesh, with nothing but a tiger in between us.

“She’s probably ticked that I invited myself along,” Roux said smoothly, covering for me. She tucked her own hair back, quick and twitchy, just like Char. “I know it’s your special thing, but I wanted to get to know you better, Charlotte. I want us to be friends.”

“I can’t think of any reason why we shouldn’t be,” Char said, her eyes flashing to mine, trying to see if it was what I wanted.

“And I can think of about two hundred forty thousand reasons why we should be,” Roux said, and Char chuckled. Roux shot me a look, dead serious and full of bad intent. “Yeah, Amy?”

It was a real question, and I understood her perfectly. She meant the money. She wanted me to affirm I’d be paying her in full, come Monday. I’d tried to renegotiate with Tig’s confession held like a gun in my hands, but then she’d pushed a button, dropped this bomb.

She’d been as busy as I had, digging at my secrets even while I was digging at hers, seeing for herself what had become of the Shipley kids. I hadn’t tipped her off, though. I was sure of it. There’d been nothing dishonest in my voice or my body language when I’d told her about Lolly in the pool. It hadn’t even felt like lying—it had been so soaked in truth. Roux was just this damn good at her job. Now, with Char beside her like another big red button, live-wired and close at hand, she was closing negotiations.

“Two hundred forty thousand at least,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, for Charlotte’s sake. It sounded weak, almost sick, to my ears. I made myself meet Roux’s eyes, promising her the money, promising her anything, for her silence now. She dipped her head, acknowledging my meaning.

“I should make you list them all,” Char said, thinking we were being silly. “I need the self-esteem boost.”

“‘You is smart. You is kind. You is important,’” Roux said.

“Is that The Help? We read that for book club!” Char said, but she was blushing, flattered and pleased.

“I only saw the movie. Should I read it?” Roux asked.

Roux took my arm now, too, linking me to Charlotte, the flesh of her so cool and smooth. The feel of her made my blood run redder, faster, hotter. My grip tightened on the stroller bar, and she kept up the conversation, laughing and chatting between us. Her voice had taken on Charlotte-like inflections, her head tilting to match Char’s angle as she laughed. She could have been a female Mister Rogers, she was so neighborly and friendly. Char was getting thoroughly snowed. Meanwhile I could feel rage leaking into me at our point of contact. It spread up my arm and into my core, like an allergic reaction to her touch.

That was when I knew I wasn’t beaten. Not yet. I still had four days left, and as we walked, arm in arm in arm, the two of them chattering, the babies babbling happily back and forth, I knew what I had to do.





13




My plan was simple. Today, while Luca was studying, I would steal his house keys. I’d manufacture an errand, and Oliver and I would run down to Ace and make a copy. I’d do his pool dives before Maddy got home, and then, while she watched Oliver and kept Luca distracted, I’d slip away and search Roux’s house. Roux spent every afternoon at the gym; I’d learned from Luca that she went to a yoga class, then did cardio and targeted weights. Every day. She was addicted, so I’d have the place to myself for a couple of hours. She must have her real ID or other pieces of her past stashed somewhere. She was on the run, but she’d had time to grab things on her way out: the Picasso, the laptop, her exquisite clothes.

Her past had to be somewhere, tucked in her freezer or under her mattress. Maybe in a safe-deposit box, which meant I was screwed. But Roux didn’t seem like the type to trust institutions. There was only one way to find out: I needed some quality time alone in the Sprite House. Once I had her real name and her point of origin, I could go to Google or even a private investigator and find whatever she was running from.