Freaks in the City (11 page)

She choked down a sob. God. She was such an
idiot. But he’d made it sound so easy, so harmless. Get close to
Tyler. Watch him and his new girlfriend. Report in daily. And in
return, Sixer would give her more money than Nessa could hope to
earn in a year of waiting tables at Time-Out. Was she
interested?

Hell, yeah, she was interested. She could
get the eff out of Snapperton for good and start afresh somewhere
else—somewhere far away from the parents who shunned her no matter
how hard she tried to prove she’d changed, and the kids who never
let her forget the shitty things she’d done.

Everything had seemed peachy until she got
nosy and asked one too many questions. She recalled his cold,
bruising grasp as he held her hands across the café table. The
soulless stare. The thin line of his lips as he told her to shut
her mouth and do as she was told because he’d be watching. All the
lovely bubbly euphoria about her luck finally changing and easy
money dropping right in her lap had gone
poof!
She should
have known it all sounded too good to be true.

What she couldn’t figure was why Sixer was
so interested in Tyler, of all people. Tyler was a good guy, too
nice for his own good—hardly the type to get involved with
something dodgy. Unless….

Jay. This had to be about
her
.

Nessa had always reckoned there was
something “off” about Jay. And it had nothing to do with Tyler’s
pathetic case of insta-love the second he’d laid eyes on Jay’s
skinny, unfashionable ass. Or Jay outting Nessa to half the school
at that dumbass farewell party, either. On more than one occasion
Jay had almost scared the panties off her. So Nessa hadn’t been
exactly devastated by the rumors Jay might have been killed in that
meth lab explosion.

And now Jay had mysteriously shown up in
Tyler’s life again, using a different name and with some serious
money to boot. Where had she gotten that sort of cash?

Drugs.

Yeah. Made sense. Especially given the whole
Jay Smith/Jaime Smythson thing. Girls Jay’s age didn’t just change
their names on a whim. Well, unless they were misfortunate enough
to have hideously old-fashioned names like Martha or Beryl or… or…
Winifred or whatever. Jay had to be hiding something. Or….

Or hiding from someone—someone who knew
she’d been tight with Tyler, and figured the best way to track her
down was to spy on her old boyfriend.

Someone like Sixer.

Nessa coughed, winced, and then gingerly
massaged her throat. Traumatized by a mugging my ass. Jeez. Why
couldn’t Tyler see it?
Normal
people did not overreact and
half strangle people who were only trying to help them. Jay was
like two different girls. One, unnaturally calm and logical. The
other, hot-tempered and ready to go off at the slightest
provocation. Shawn had been like that, on edge and real quick to
lose it when he’d been popping the ’roids.

Nessa sooo didn’t want to play spy anymore,
but the last thing she needed was to piss Sixer off—especially if
he was mixed up in the whole meth-lab thing back in Snapperton. Jay
could come off like one scary-ass bitch but Sixer…. He wasn’t
playing at being a badass. He scared her to the depths of her soul.
And you didn’t mess with guys involved with the drugs trade.

Nothing for it but to see this through to
the end. And boy, would she have earned every damn penny of that
money.

She fished the cell phone from beneath her
pillow and keyed in the number he’d made her memorize.

He answered on the second ring. “I told you
to text me.”

His voice was so cold and hard and
emotionless that she had to bite her lip against a whimper. “A
lot’s happened—it’d take way too long to text,” she whispered,
hunching over the phone.

“Tell me.”

She told him everything that’d gone down,
keeping to the facts, trying to be as calm and concise as
possible—no mean feat when her heart was racing like she’d run a
mile, and her throat hurt, and her mouth was so dry it made
speaking clearly difficult.

“Interesting,” he said, though his tone gave
nothing away. He could have been talking about a piece of gum on
the pavement.

“What part?” she asked without thinking, and
then silently cursed her stupidity. Last thing she wanted was any
insights into what made this dude tick.

“The second name is so similar to the first
as to be borderline pointless. Jay Smith. Jaime Smythson. It is
difficult to choose a name, yes?”

“I suppose. So you got what you wanted,
right? I’m outta here.”

“No. Stay right where you are.”

“But she nearly strangled me! What if she
attacks me again?” Nessa knew her voice sounded high pitched and
little-girl-scared-of-the-monster-under-the-bed but she didn’t
care. Right now, making herself scarce and forgetting about the
money was looking real good.

“Stay where you are. Continue to report to
me via text. Do not ring unless you are alone in the house. Do you
understand?”

“Y-yes.” No! She didn’t understand any of
this. And a nasty little voice in her head told her it would be
best if she didn’t, either.

“I will tell you when you’re done. If you
run, I will find you. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes!” She hated he knew how terrified she
was. She fought for control. “I understand.”

“Good girl, Nessa.” He rang off.

Good girl, Nessa.
The praise made her
feel like a well-trained dog. Plus she hadn’t the slightest clue if
he was pleased by the information she’d imparted. His voice had
been flat, without any inflection, kinda like a robot or… or… a
computer or something. Jeez, what was he—some freaking psycho?

Nessa shoved the phone under her pillow,
yanked the covers up to her nose and curled into a ball. She left
the light on. It’d be a miracle if she got any damn sleep tonight.
She full-body shivered, and curled up more tightly. God help her if
she didn’t do what Sixer told her. And God help her if Jay ever
found out she was spying on them.

She squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and
tried to think of something pleasant. Huh. Fat chance. There hadn’t
been much that could be considered “pleasant” in her life so far.
Funny, the only time she’d been truly happy had been while dating
Tyler.

Tears leaked from her eyes, ran down her
cheeks, were quickly absorbed by the expensive cotton pillowcase.
She’d tossed away the only good thing that had ever happened to
her, the one good thing she’d had in her life.

If only she could think of a way to get him
back.

~~~

Sharp prickly impulses needled Jay’s muscles.
She ignored them, telling herself she should be content to lie in
the shelter of Tyler’s arms. Faint light filtered through the
blinds and crept up the comforter to tease her determinedly closed
eyelids… which snapped open at the faint squeal of a door.
Footfalls in the hallway.

Vanessa.

Jay considered swearing rather pointless. It
didn’t make her feel better or empower her in any way, shape, or
form. Consequently, she didn’t swear unless it was the most
appropriate response for any given social situation. But…
damn
that girl.

When alone in her apartment, Jay would
unselfconsciously do whatever she deemed necessary, whenever she
deemed it necessary. If she felt the urge to explode into motion
and run up a wall—see whether she could make it further across the
ceiling than last time before gravity held sway—she did so. If she
wanted to test whether
vriksasana
, tree pose, did indeed
improve concentration as claimed, then she would stand on her left
foot with her right knee bent and her right sole placed on her
upper inner thigh, for an hour or two without a qualm.

Of course she made every effort to moderate
her behaviors and experiments with Tyler present, confining her
physical activities to more socially acceptable outlets, such as
performing katas or running through tai chi forms.

Reading, too, was a pastime she enjoyed.
Sure, she could scan the entire contents of a book in minutes, but
for Jay, reading wasn’t about quantity. She loved analyzing and
puzzling over the author’s word choices—why
this
particular
word here and not a suitable synonym? She loved how words combined
into phrases that provoked vivid images and emotions. She loved the
rhythms of words, and how changing those rhythms could so
drastically alter the ambiance of a particular segment. She would
devour a book from cover to cover, savoring every word, every
sentence, before starting straight in on the next. She bought a
stack of books every week from various bookstores, and felt no need
to apologize for her passion. Many humans were passionate about
reading, too.

There were times, though, when she would do
something extraordinary without fully considering the implications.
Like rearranging all the furniture in the lounge while Tyler was
taking out the garbage, because she wanted to test the
feng
shui
of the living space as per the book she’d just finished
reading. Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of rearranged
furniture, Tyler hadn’t been bothered. He knew what she was,
accepted those parts of herself she chose to reveal. He didn’t make
her feel like a freak.

But Jay could not risk doing something out
of the ordinary in front of Vanessa—not when Vanessa would be
watching, judging. And now she was already up and about, and making
it difficult for Jay to be herself. Again.

She slowly eased from Tyler’s embrace,
careful not to disturb his slumber. There were times when
possessing superb fine muscle control was advantageous and this was
one of those times. Once on her feet, she glanced down at herself.
Light cotton shorts, a t-shirt, and bare feet would not be
considered suitable jogging attire. It would doubtless draw
unwanted attention—could even lead people to conclude she was
trying to escape someone who meant her harm. She eased open a
drawer and pulled out a pair of sweats.

On her way out, she swiped her iPod from the
tallboy and her sneakers from the floor by the wardrobe. She cast
one more glance at Tyler before she pulled the bedroom door shut
behind her.

She discovered Vanessa peering into the
fridge and muttering to herself.

“If you’re looking for milk, we’re fresh
out.” She’d intended to get up early and slip out to purchase a
carton. “There’s a UHT carton in the pantry.”

Vanessa straightened with one hand on her
chest where she doubtless imagined her heart was supposed to be.
“Crap! You startled me.”

Jay considered not giving a response.
Vanessa had made a statement not a question. In addition it was a
correct statement, because Vanessa had made it very obvious that
she had indeed been startled. Logically, no response was required.
But none of Jay’s dealings with Vanessa thus far had been based on
anything remotely resembling logic. In the end she settled on,
“Sorry.”

She yanked the sweats on over her shorts and
then thrust her feet into the sneakers before performing some basic
stretches. She didn’t need to stretch to warm up her muscles before
a run, but it was considered beneficial for humans to do so.

Vanessa had managed to locate the carton of
milk and a box of cereal in the pantry. She brought both items over
to the breakfast bar before nosing inside a couple of cupboards,
searching for crockery. She appeared to be making herself very much
at home.

For some indefinable reason Vanessa’s
actions irked Jay. Father’s programming had instilled a knowledge
of far more than mere basic etiquette, and Vanessa was showing her
up as an ungracious hostess. Or perhaps it was simply that Vanessa
royally pissed Jay off—had done ever since their first rather
disastrous meeting when Vanessa had taken it upon herself to punch
Jay in the stomach.

“Help yourself,” she said, injecting a
degree of sarcasm in her tone. “Just make sure you leave some
cereal for Tyler. Apple Jacks are his favorite.”

Vanessa flushed. She ducked her head and
toyed with the spoon she’d gotten from the cutlery drawer. “Thanks
for letting me stay here.”

“I’d say, ‘You’re welcome,’ but you and I
both know I’d be lying.”

Surprisingly, that sally provoked a wry
laugh. “Yeah, I kinda got that. You do ‘bitch’ real well, Jay.
You’d give Bettina a run for her money.”

Despite herself, Jay’s lips twitched upward
in appreciation of Vanessa’s comment. At Greenfield High, Bettina
had cornered the market on bitch and reigned supreme. “I’ve been
practicing.”

Vanessa fiddled with the closure of the UHT
milk carton, finally figured it out, and poured milk into her
cereal bowl.

“About last night,” Jay said. “I’m sorry. I
don’t know what came over me. The nightmare was….” She closed her
eyes and sucked in a bracing breath. “I dreamed Tyler died and it
was my fault. I couldn’t wake up. I just kept dreaming him dying in
front of me over and over.”

When she opened her eyes it was to find
Vanessa staring at her, mouth slightly agape, like she couldn’t
believe what she’d just heard.

Jay reviewed her statements. She’d only
wanted to make it clear that even if she didn’t like Vanessa very
much, she didn’t intend to make a habit of assaulting her—well, not
without major provocation, anyway. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been
so honest. Perhaps she shouldn’t have tried to explain herself. She
rubbed her temple and sighed inwardly. Too late now.

Vanessa shut her mouth with an audible snap.
“That must have been awful.”

“It was.” Before the silence could grow
awkward, Jay changed the subject. “How’s your throat? Do you need
me to pick you up some arnica cream for the bruising?”

Vanessa massaged her neck. “I took a couple
more Tylenol when I got up. It doesn’t feel so bad. But thanks
anyway.”