Page 82 of Every Step She Takes
My father needs a full-time minder.
Not “my father needs to shut his damn mouth.” This isn’t anger; it’s exasperation. I remember Colt complaining to Isabella about Karla constantly sending him packaged soundbites and then chastising him for speaking his mind instead.
I’m honest. People like that. Karla just doesn’t understand.
Karla understood just fine. She understood that Colt was indeed beloved for his honesty… in the same way you can’t help loving a child who says whatever he thinks. It’s endearing at five. At forty, though? Let’s just say Karla spent a lot of time that summer cleaning up Colt’s verbal vomit. She’d still been doing damage control after an impromptu interview at a spring awards show when he’d said he was happy he lost a role to a younger actor because the writing was shit and he’d have needed Isabella to rewrite the script.
When Colt claims to believe I killed Isabella, I’m not as hurt as I should be. That’s just Colt looking to blame me before anyone suspects him. Just because Tiana recognizes that doesn’t mean she’s on my side.
I leave the money for breakfast on the table along with a twenty-dollar tip. I’m barely out the door when Phyllis comes after me with “Oh, no, you don’t,” and presses the extra bill into my hand. “You need that more than I do,” she says.
I flush and wonder how rough I look after a night outside. “No, really. I’m fine. I–”
“You’re going to need it if you keep running, hon. And if you want my advice, you need to keep running. Just be safer about it.”
I hope my face doesn’t show my reaction. She only means that I seem to be living on the streets, and I’m not dressed like someone who has been doing it for long.
“Thank you,” I say. “But I wanted to show my appreciation–”
“Show it later, when you’re out of this mess. Right now, you need every penny you’ve got if you’re going to keep your ass out of jail, Miss Lucy.”
I go still, so still I forget to breathe.
“Oh, I know who you are. Took me a while, but I figured it out. You need to be a lot more careful, hon. I read the news. Read it all those years ago, too, and I was spitting mad at what they did to you. Just a child, you were, and with a man like that?” She whistles. “I’d have been tempted myself, and I was no child. Men like him always take advantage of pretty girls. They think they’ve earned them, as if you’re a company bonus.”
“I didn’t kill–”
She shushes me and casts a quick look around. “I didn’t figure you did. Not on purpose, anyway. Now my Nathaniel, he’s always rolling his eyes at my conspiracy theories, but this has conspiracy painted all over it. You’re the perfect scapegoat, and they’re scapegoating you good. Money and power. It comes down to that. It always does.”
She shakes her head. “I bet that husband of hers did it, and someone’s covering it up for him. I used to like his movies, but after what happened to you, I never watched another one. He should have been run out of Hollywood, but instead, he got even more famous. Like seducing a teenage girl proved he still had it.”
She eases back. “You don’t need me saying any of that, not when you just want to get out of here in case I’m stalling you after I called the police.” She pats my arm. “You go on then. Run, and keep running until this gets sorted out.”
I pocket the twenty. “Can I at least give you a hug?”
She chuckles. “I’ll take that,” she says and embraces me.
I blame Phyllis for my next move. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that, but after three days of hell, she is a blazing beacon of kindness and hope, as perfect as if I conjured her from wisps of daydream. A complete stranger who understood what happened to me fourteen years ago and who understands what’s happening now. Someone to pat my back and tell me everything will be okay – to tell meI’mokay.
I leave that encounter flying high and promising I truly will repay her. And, my hope and faith in humanity bolstered, I do exactly what I’d decided, mere moments before, not to do.
I call Tiana.
Well, I text her… after researching a way to do that online instead of text messaging.
Me:Tiana? It’s Lucy.
She answers four minutes later with a two-word profanity. I expect no less.
Me:Give me five minutes. Please.
Tiana:Where did you get this number? I’ll have you traced. You know that, right?
Me:Go ahead. But we need to talk.
Tiana:Oh, sure, let’s do that. We’ll chat. I’ll bare my soul and call Lucy Callahan a monstrous bitch and wail and ask how she could have done that to me. Or should I vow vengeance instead? Which will play better online?
I read that twice, stumbling on her use of the third person for me. Then it clicks.
