Duplicity (7 page)

As the afternoon waned, turning to evening, Lilith had been pulled
into a dark place.

There was so much in her life she’d rather forget. Amongst a
litany of memories she didn’t want, perhaps the worst was the scene she’d come
home to a little less than three years ago.

She supposed none of the three of them—Mal, Dana, and Lilith—had
been doing okay by the time adulthood hit them, but of the three, Dana had been
the worst off. Some days, Lilith thought it was her friend’s brush with madness
that had saved her. If she hadn’t had to be so in control of herself for Dana’s
sake, what would have become of her?

As it was, when they’d been eighteen, Dana and Mal had come into a
small inheritance left by their aunt to be granted to them both when they came
of age. There had been no talking Dana out of getting her own apartment and so
there had been no talking Lilith out of going with her. Anyway, she’d been
having more and more problems with her father and stepmother.

They had been convinced they could make it.

Lilith had a string of menial jobs. Her quick temper didn’t make
her a very good employee, but she’d found work here and there, off and on. It
had been enough to keep up her part of the rent most of the time. Anyway, it
had been a full-time job keeping Dana out of trouble.

As it turned out, though, Lilith was as bad at stopping Dana from
complete self-destruction as she was at everything else. It had taken less than
a year for Dana to run through all the money she had. In no time at all, she
had been in trouble with the wrong kind of people.

One day, Lilith had come home from work to find two strange men in
her house with Dana being pushed around between them. They’d roughed her up
already, and her torn clothing left no question as to what else they’d planned
to do.

That, Lilith knew, was Dana’s worst nightmare. She was terrified
of sex in general. Rape was a torture she would not survive, not after
everything else they’d been through.

Sex was different for Lilith. She was no virgin. She knew how easy
it was to fall into bed with someone. She’d done it here and there, not because
it felt good but because everyone told her it should. To that point, sex hadn’t
made her feel anything. There was no pleasure nor was there pain. She found she
was indifferent.

The men who had her friend were not unreasonable. In their
business, sex was a commodity. It wasn’t unusual for a junkie—as Dana had been
well on her way to being—to trade sex for drugs. Dana had not paid what she
owed. She’d used their product, and they had been set on taking what they were
due.

It had been the easiest thing in the world for Lilith to offer to
settle Dana’s debt. She would give them whatever they wanted, so long as they
had no intention of leaving permanent damage. Lilith could and would submit,
and she would be no worse for the wear.

That was exactly what she had done. She had made the deal and let
the men take her home.

She still remembered what it felt like when she had returned to
the apartment. She was numb, indifferent about what she had done and what she
should be feeling. Dana was crying. She was saying she was sorry. Over and over
and over again until Lilith couldn’t stand to hear it.

Between Lilith and Mal, they’d made Dana a deal. Most of the rest
of
Mal’s
part of the inheritance went to paying off
Dana’s debts and sending her to rehab. The deal was that she would work her ass
off to get better.

“Get better. Go to school. Don’t ever touch this shit again,”
Lilith had told her friend. “That’s the only thing I want.”

Dana had made good on her part of the bargain. She was getting
better. This last semester, she had enrolled in school and she was doing her
best to be a good student. She even worked a few hours a week in the admissions
office.

Mal, though he had struggled with self-harm issues, had not
stumbled in his personal life. He would finish school in the next year. He was
doing okay.

Lilith?

Lilith was just here. She didn’t fall, so that was something, but
she didn’t move forward either.

She was just stuck treading water, waiting for the next bomb life
decided to drop on her.

Chapter 8

Her nose wouldn’t stop itching.

Lilith batted her hand out without opening her eyes, wiggling her
nose.

The itch came back, accompanied by a deep, familiar chuckle.

Startled awake, Lilith sat up so fast she toppled off her bed.

 “Jesus, Lil!” Mal peered down at her and offered to help her
up. “Are you okay?”

With a growl of embarrassment, Lilith took his hand. “I’m fine.
What are you doing here? What are you doing in my bed?” Remembering she was
still angry at him, she narrowed her eyes, yanking her hand out of his grasp.
“Aren’t you afraid I’ve had clients here?”

His expression darkened, and he looked down at the bedspread.
“Come here.” He held out a hand in invitation, asking not commanding.

Lilith hesitated. On the one hand, she was still chafing from
Mal’s
tactless, judgmental comments from several nights
before. On the other hand, this was Mal. He was family. Their bond went deeper
than blood, and it was inevitable that she was going to forgive him.

She would forgive him for anything. That was just how things went
with them.

Climbing back in bed, she curled toward him. It was a dance they’d
mastered when they were children. Mal felt better when he was holding Lilith.
For a long time, when they’d been teenagers, Dana couldn’t stand to be hugged.
It had killed Mal, so being able to hold Lilith was a comfort for him. It was a
mutually beneficial arrangement, filling a need for Mal, and
well .
 . .
who couldn’t use a good hug now and again?

“You still suck.” Her words were petulant, but she snuggled with
him, adjusting herself until she found a comfortable spot.

“I know.” He sounded contrite.

“It was my birthday, Mal. You’re not supposed to be a prick on my
birthday. It’s against the rules.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a prick. You deserve what I have—everything
I have.”

“What is it about
people that makes
them
think not having a boyfriend is the worst thing in the world? And again, I
don’t know what you thought. If we’d hit it off, then what? What was I supposed
to tell him when I ran off till all hours of the night?”

Malcolm was quiet for a few moments before he sighed. “I don’t
know. I keep hoping you’ll find
someone .
 . .
or if not someone, something that will push you to do something more with your
life.” He looked up, his eyes wide, and hurried to talk his foot out of his
mouth.
“Not that what you do is anything to be ashamed of.
I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. You don’t hurt anyone, and you’re
honest.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is what I want for you any
different than what you wanted for Dana?”

Lilith grimaced because she couldn’t argue with that point. If it
had been Dana in her place, she would have been pushing the other girl to do
something else. That’s great, Mal, but like I’ve told you a million times
before, bills need to be paid.”

“You’ve had other kinds of jobs before.”

“As you’ll recall, I never kept any of those jobs.”

“But you could. You could if you tried.”

She growled, frustrated. “It’s convenient for you to forget how
quickly we got into debt when I had those kinds of jobs.”

“It’s a means to an end, Lilith. At least those kinds of jobs
you can put on a resume. You can use your boss as a reference.”

She began struggling in his arms, trying to push him away. “Would
you get real? If I miss a payment to Dana’s school, she doesn’t get her
credits. They will freeze her from being able to sign up for classes next
semester, and then what was the point of any of this?” When he tightened his
hold her, she smacked his arm. “Is this your idea of an apology, because it’s a
piss-poor—”

“Okay. Okay!” He got his arms around her, pinning her arms to her
side. “There
just .
 . . there has to be
an end, Lil.”

She bared her teeth and snapped her teeth a fraction of an inch
from his nose.

Laughing, he kissed her cheek. “Come on. Get up. Get dressed. Since
I fucked up your birthday, I’m going to make it up to you.” He got to his knees
on the bed and gave her ass a playful smack. “Come on. Get a move on. We have
places to be.”

“Don’t you have class?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Skipping one day isn’t going to kill
me.”

In spite of herself, Lilith brightened. “You mean it’s just you
and me today?” She spent a lot of free time with Dana, but Mal was a different
story. Since he’d met Erin, the one-on-one time she got with her best friend
was almost non-existent.

Mal grinned at her.
“If you can stand me for
that long.”

“
Well .
 . .” Lilith forced
the corners of her mouth down. “I can try.”

He
wagged
a finger in her
face.”Try
not.”

“Yeah, yeah.
Get
out of here, Yoda. I’ll be out in a minute.”

~0~

They ended up mini-golfing—one of Lilith’s great pleasures. She
didn’t get to indulge much—neither Mal nor Dana understood her glee at
outsmarting the convoluted courses—so she didn’t bother to disguise her
giddiness.

“Yeah, swinging pole.
You’re my bitch now!” she whisper-hissed at the offending thing, jumping up and
down.

“Honey, it took you seven tries to get it in the hole.”

“That’s what she said.” She put her hands on her hips. “And that’s
beside the point. I’ve defeated this ball-blocking pole of evilness. It is my
bitch.”

He mussed her hair.
“Whatever you say.”

All smiles, they moved on to the next hole. “I’m glad you seem to
be feeling better.”

“What are you talking about? Better as opposed to what?”

He glanced over at her as he straightened, lining up the putter
with the ball. “Dana yelled at me yesterday. She said you’d been
emo
and miserable since your birthday.”

Lilith rolled her eyes.
“Self-important much?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t all you. You didn’t help, but it was a very bad
week all around.”

He took his shot and turned to look at her without watching to see
if he’d made it. “What else happened?” he asked. There was an odd tone to his
voice that almost distracted Lilith.

“Whoa! Why are you not watching this? You just made a damn
hole-in-one.”

Mal spared a glance over his shoulder but turned back to her just
as quickly. “Lilith? What made your week so bad?”

This time the tone of his voice held her attention. She focused on
him, startled to see a hint of anxiety around the corners of his eyes. “
Just .
 . . things.”

He wouldn’t let her dodge the question. Mal put a hand on her
shoulder, his voice more demanding as he pressed her.
“At
work?”

She took a step back, away from his hand, and knit her eyebrows together
as she stared.
“Dude.
It was just a bad week, okay?”

“But how?”

“What’s your boggle, citizen?” She was trying to go for humor,
harkening back to a movie they used to watch over and over as kids, but it was
falling flat.

Lilith felt a rush of frustration followed by an uncomfortable
finger of fear. She’d been trying not to think of Trey and the mess of memories
he’d triggered. It was making her more than a little unnerving to have Mal
poking around this subject. She didn’t want to talk about Trey, and she didn’t
want to talk about the past.

Mal had that look on his face that told her whatever he was
thinking wasn’t going to please her.

“Dammit, Mal.
You’re not about to say something stupid again, are you?”

“
No .
 . .” He looked off a
moment, and she could see his fingers flexing around his putter. “Okay. If you
want to know the truth, you scared the hell out of Dana last night.”

Lilith recoiled. “What? Why?”

“She said you’ve been a funk, like I said, but last night she said
you were like a ghost—like you weren’t there at all.”

Hunching her arms inward, Lilith stepped forward, covering up her
extreme discomfort by setting up her shot. “I don’t know what you’re talking
about.”

When she straightened up, he grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing
her to face him. “
Dana .
 . . she was
freaking out because she thought maybe . . .” His voice was
uncertain, small a he stumbled over his words. “Maybe it was happening again.”

Lilith’s head shot up. “No.”

Mal stared at her as if trying to read the truth in her eyes.

“Really, Mal. No.”
Her
tone was steady, and he let out a gust of breath, reassured.

“When you woke up this morning, you were so you,” he said with a
sheepish smile. “I thought Dana must be crazy.” He dropped his hands to his
sides. “Sorry.”

Lilith didn’t answer right away. She thought over what he’d said,
how he’d reacted. Again, he’d come to some kind of assumption about her work.
If she’d had a bad enough week that she was spacing out, it had to be some kind
of abuse.

She was so sick of defending herself.

Then again, she had to accept what she did wasn’t in the realm of
normalcy. She understood that Mal had a different reality of her work
programmed into his head. That was the draw for some of her clients—acting on
the illicit idea they had in their head.

Lilith couldn’t deny there was good reason for the way her
profession was viewed. There were women, some of them no more than girls, who
were forced to do what
she
did, who were manipulated,
drugged, and roughed up.

One way or another, this was no dream job, but what most people
pictured was not the reality Lilith lived. If anything, Smith had watched
Firefly
a few too many times. In that show, the women who did what she did were
respected. They were of a high class, and it was a considered an honor for one
of them to choose you as a client. He was good to the women in his employ. He
didn’t allow mistreatment of his girls by any of the clients unless the
specifics were agreed upon by both parties, and had hired Ethan to make sure
that rule was enforced. His club met all health and building codes.

“You should come to the club one day,” she said after a minute.

“What?” Mal paled at the very idea.

Rolling her eyes, Lilith smiled. “Just come one day. You’ll see
it’s nothing like whatever you’re thinking.”

He squirmed.
“Maybe.”

She laughed and turned back to the hole. For a minute, there was
silence as she tried to figure out how to get her ball in the little house with
the door going up, down, up, down.

Of course, her ball went straight to the gutter on the side,
landing on the green below them. She sighed.

The rest of the day was smoother. They had a great lunch of pizza
and chicken wings inside the center. Afterward, he took her to a bar, buying
her a few drinks and letting her kick his ass at darts to make up for how badly
he’d beaten her at mini-golf.

When they pulled up in front of her apartment, Lilith was feeling
lighter than she had in days. Dana was right—she had been wallowing. She knew
it, of course, but up until today she hadn’t been able to shake the cloud that
had settled over her.

Now, she felt like she could take a deep breath again.

Maybe she would even stop ignoring Trey’s texts.

“Hey, Lilith?”
Mal
reached a hand out, stopping her before she could get out of the car.

She turned back.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “If you ever
need to talk, I’m here. You know that right?”

“Sure, Mal.”

He knew she was being flippant, and he called her on it. “I mean
it.” His stare pinned her, imploring her to take him seriously. “I think it’s
easy to forget you need someone to lean on sometimes, too. I’m not oblivious to
the fact you’re the strongest of all of us, and that has to suck sometimes.”

“What?” She scoffed. “Come off it. Where are you getting this
crap? I’m not so strong.”

“No. You are.” He touched his own arm, where she knew his shirt
hid old scars—the physical manifestation of the emotional pain he’d been in
once upon a time. “You remember when you told my parents?”

Lilith’s stomach twisted.

They’d been fifteen when she’d figured out what he’d been doing,
and she couldn’t remember ever being more scared. “I thought you would never
forgive me.”

“For a while, I thought I wouldn’t either. But that took an
incredible amount of strength.” He tried to smile. “Despite what you try to
make me believe, I know you value my friendship.”