“Wait up!” I jog up to Lenny and give her shoulder a friendly squeeze. She pulls away. “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t take anything seriously, do you?”
She has no idea. Sometimes, it feels like if I don’t laugh, I’ll fall to pieces.
“I’m trying to help you,” she continues. “But you’re not even trying. Turning your mic off, inviting Erin Love along to meet me?”
“She’s just another contestant. It’s no big deal—”
“She’s Erin Love,” Lenny interrupts. “She tried to tag you out of the competition, remember? She’s pals with Anton Frazer. Do you want him to find out why you’re really here?”
My smile fades. “I haven’t told her anything,” I say.
“Other than my name?” She raises an eyebrow, the one with a metal bar through it. I don’t say anything. “For pity’s sake, Grayson. I want you to keep playing this game. Because that’s what you want. But you need to focus.”
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
The bad temper melts out of her expression, replaced by mild exasperation. I’m suddenly conscious that I must smell terrible. Falling into that mud was not my greatest moment, but it was so damn slippery and…well, let’s not go there.
At last, Lenny breaks our gaze. “Have you heard anything from Anton?” she asks.
“He sent us a message saying the game’s not over. Maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part though.”
“And Rose’s ghost? How’s her game going?” It’s clear from her tone that she doesn’t think the ghost is real.
“You’ll never believe this. The last announcement from Rose revealed Charlotte as the third suspect. I didn’t see that coming.”
Lenny laughs. “That’s because you’re naive and overly trusting.” Her phone buzzes; a series of notifications are coming in at the same time. She frowns at it. “I should go. I wouldn’t worry about the game not continuing though. Evil always finds a way.”
“But I’ll miss you if you go,” I say, sticking out my bottom lip.
“Quit it. That phone in the bag’s an old one of mine. I put some credit on it. If you need me.”
“If I need you? You’re all that’s keeping me from complete disaster.”
“This is true,” she says. She smiles wryly. “Remember that night we got caught in the middle of that fight?”
Of course I remember. It was the moment when I realized Lenny was going to be my friend and not just some cute girl who bought ice cream from the shop I worked in.
I was working a late shift at Softly Scoops It. Lenny had been coming in for a few months. She’d sit in a booth and drink a milkshake while typing away at what I later found out was some AI program she was developing at college. Sometimes, when it was quiet, we’d sit and chat. She was nice to talk to, and I’d started opening up to her about Rose.
That night, she’d barely had time to take out her laptop when this fight broke out between two grown men who both wanted the last waffle cone. Spoons were used as weapons, chocolate sauce was sprayed on the walls, people skidded on pools of melting gelato.
I pulled Lenny behind the counter, and we ducked down out of sight while the fight raged on. She was biting her lip, which I mistook for terror. “What’s your favorite flavor?” I asked, attempting to keep her mind off the danger we were in.
“Um, mango sorbet?” she replied, shielding her head as a stool came flying past our hiding place.
“Even after witnessing this display of civil dis-sorbet-dience?” I asked.
Her lips parted in surprise, then a slight smile made it onto her face. “My first impressions of you were totally wrong.”
“I look like I’ll be funny, don’t I? And then I open my mouth.”
“I guess I thought you’d be one of those good-looking guys who believes he can smile people into thinking he’s a nice guy.”
I laughed. “I’ll take good-looking because the rest of that was…yeah.”
Right then, a massive dude wielding a broken chair leg launched himself over the counter. I’m ashamed to say I nearly fainted in fear. Lenny was amazing though. She took charge of the situation and talked the guy down. By the time the police arrived, everyone was eating ice cream together.
Lenny and I have been best friends ever since.
“You going to fix this whole thing for me tonight too?” I ask her now.
“That part’s up to you.” She gives me a little push. “Get on with it, then. I have things to do too. It’s not the Grayson show, you know?”
She heads off, but she pauses to flick me the middle finger. I grin after her. I’m on her good side again.
I find the spot on the sidewalk where I left Erin, but she’s not there. Her burger is on the ground, and dejectedly I pick it up. I slip onto a side street and change out of my filthy clothes, into a pair of Lenny’s skinny jeans and one of her sweaters. As I’m emerging, I spot Erin. She’s in a hair salon with a woman who looks almost exactly like her.
There’s no one else in the shop, and three of the workers are swarming around Erin as she sits regally in a chair. The other Erin orders them about while holding a champagne glass.
A bell announces my entrance, and everyone looks up. “Sign says closed,” the other Erin says.
She sounds like Erin too. Close up, though, I can see that she’s considerably older. Erin’s mother, Amber, I realize. The other half of her channel.
“I was after Erin, actually,” I say, slumping into a leather chair with my legs over the arm. “We’ve been hanging out during the game.”
Amber’s lips twitch into the bitchiest smile I’ve ever seen. “I’m aware. But she’s got me now. So…shoo.”
I spin in the chair and ignore her. I unwrap the burger and take a massive bite.
Erin—the real one—makes a displeased noise. “Don’t you breathe on me with your meat breath.”
I chew quickly and swallow more than is comfortable. “So what’s the plan?”
“I don’t have one,” Erin says.
“Why would you two need a plan?” Amber sniffs. “You can’t win this game together.”
“You’re done,” a hairdresser says, showing Erin a three-sixty of her head with a mirror. “Happy?”
“Rarely,” Erin says.
“She’s perfect,” Amber says. “I’ll post about your salon tomorrow, if that’s OK. We’ve got things to do tonight.”
The man grins at her. “Of course, of course. We’re so grateful for your support.”
“Of course you are,” Erin says, climbing down from the chair and sashaying to the door.
I follow her outside while her mother stays to exchange a few words with the shop owner.
“You all right?” I say.
“I don’t know,” Erin says. It’s weird. Her time in the salon appears to have preened and cleaned the spark out of her.
The shop door dings as Amber steps outside. “I’m sure I’ll see you around during the game,” Erin says abruptly. “Bye.”
That was weird. Guess I’m on my own, then. I’ve walked ten yards down the road when I feel fingers close on my arm. Sharp nails dig painfully into my skin. “I’m on to you,” Amber snarls. “You must think I’m stupid.”
“What have I done?” I say, laughing nervously. I glance at Erin, but she’s engrossed in her phone.
She gives me a nasty smile. “Boys like you think they’ve got us fooled. You’re a nice guy. Friendly, self-deprecating, unthreatening. But I know what’s hiding beneath the surface. Secretly, you hate women. Making us the enemy helps you deal with the fact that you’re a nobody. A nothing.”
“Um, if you’re worried about me and Erin, she’s really not my type.”
She looks me up and down and shudders. “Gross. But I suppose there are plenty of girls with low self-esteem out there. Erin is not one of them. Now fuck off.”
A cloud of perfume lingers after she’s rejoined Erin outside the shop. She shoots me a final disgusted look, then hurries her daughter away.
“That was seriously weird,” I mutter to myself.
I can’t for the life of me understand why Amber has it in for me. Maybe she’s overprotective and does this with every boy Erin meets. But something about her tirade felt kind of personal. And I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more going on here.
I’m sure I haven’t met Amber before. I’m almost completely sure.