Dead to Her(52)

Marcie hadn’t been entirely sure why she’d stayed in the garage. Her heart was thrumming in her chest despite her outward calm and she felt slightly sick, but now that Jason was trying to get rid of her, she was damned sure she wasn’t moving.

“I may learn something, honey.” She emphasized the last word with a sweet smile, and saw his jaw tighten at her barb. Did she sound jealous, knowing he wanted some alone time with Keisha? Did she even care what he thought?

“Okay then.” He opened the hood on the Corvette, propping it open and peering inside. “Yeah, you’re definitely low on coolant.”

“I think the light on the dash already told her that,” Marcie said, and Jason glared at her.

“No one likes a smart-ass.” Jason ran his hands along the hoses. “This one’s a bit loose.” He held his damp fingers up. “It’s been leaking out of here.” He leaned in and twisted something, almost grunting as he did it. Marcie wanted to laugh. How macho was he trying to be?

“But that should take care of it. Now to refill her.” He picked up the coolant and took it over to the sink. “Just need to mix it in something. I hope you’re watching, ladies.”

“I’m all eyes,” Keisha said, dropping him a wink. She flirted like breathing, Marcie decided, she couldn’t help herself, and Marcie watched Jason puffing up under Keisha’s gaze as he looked around the vast space. She’d never thought Jason to be a fool before, but maybe all men were when it came to women. There was something slightly hysterical about it. An hour ago Keisha had been near fainting in the church and now she was flirting, all coquettish smiles and thrusting hips, almost a parody of herself. Was she trying to make Marcie jealous? Did she even know what she was doing? For all she laughed about Jason with Marcie, Keisha was flirting back. Something was definitely off with her today.

Jason found a funnel high up on a shelf and an old empty water drum under a workbench, which he half-filled with water. He wrenched the cap off the coolant and Marcie’s stomach twisted as he spilled a great glug of brightly colored liquid onto his shirt and over his hands.

“Shit.”

“So much for watch and learn,” Keisha said, folding her arms across her chest, amused. “Maybe you’d better take that shirt off. That’s how real mechanics work, isn’t it? Sweaty chests naked in the heat? Or is that just in porn films?”

Jason laughed, shocked, even as his eyes reappraised Keisha. Evaluated this new snippet of information. A woman who watched porn. Why had Keisha said that? Did she like Jason too? Maybe she was screwing them both. Some great sick fantasy. Marcie squashed the thought—it was stupid. Keisha was simply playing with him, but still, this whole situation was setting her nerves on edge.

“Wash your hands,” Marcie muttered as Jason stripped to the waist. “Don’t get any in your mouth. That stuff is poisonous.”

“Yes, Mom,” Jason said, and she fought the urge to punch him in his stupid, smug, handsome face. Laughing at her to impress Keisha. She wanted to take the coolant and pour it down his lying throat. Even Keisha giggled, tinged with some strange energy that Jason didn’t seem to notice but added to Marcie’s claustrophobic unsettled feeling. The coolant wasn’t the only toxic thing in the garage. They were all poison one way or another, and maybe she was the only one honest enough to see it.



Marcie felt better once they were back in the main house filled with bright, natural light, and no stink of chemicals or gasoline, even if it did mean more dull conversation with Virginia and Emmett, who were still talking William through how divine and much-needed their vacation had been, as if their lives here were full of woe. Keisha became the doting wife, reassuring everyone that she’d only felt faint for a moment at church and it was nothing serious, and Zelda took Jason’s shirt to wash it while he went upstairs to clean up and borrow a polo shirt of William’s before they ate. He must have taken a shower, because by the time he came downstairs, tucking the comically too big shirt into his pants under his sports jacket, Marcie was on her second glass of wine, and when he came over and kissed her, asking if he smelled better, she could almost forgive him his pathetic show of flirting earlier.

It was strange how they all fell back into their roles. Sitting next to Jason as they ate, his arm draped casually over the back of her chair, it was hard to remember the passion of screwing Keisha in her car. The freedom of that animalistic desire. It was like a dream now that the status quo was restored. The only pieces not locked into place were Iris and Noah, and they’d be back in the next few days. There was a safety in this boring life, she knew that, and even as she sipped her wine and then coffee, and let Jason take her hand as they left to head home, in that moment, she wanted to cling to it for a while.

She looked back at the open garage door as they drove away, the little red Corvette sitting proudly in the gloom beyond and her skin trembled and her mouth tasted sour.

Later, that night, when the city was asleep and for once Jason wasn’t creeping around the house taking phone calls, Marcie locked her dressing room door and stared into the contents of the box. A rare twist of guilt curled like burning paper in her guts.

Whatever secrets Jason was keeping from her, she had the feeling that the ones she was keeping from him were worse.





33.

Nothing good. Nothing good will ever come of you, KeKe, not if you don’t change, don’t behave, don’t stop talking about boys who were never here. You’re cursed, baby girl, you know it and I feel it. You got to work harder at being good. At closing your eyes.