A Poised Nuisance (Lithe Book 1)

by Iris RIvers

  The bartender dropped his hands to his sides. “You—”

  “I said walk away,” Lara said, circling the rim of her glass with her pointer finger. “Before I do something I shouldn’t.”

  He finally walked away, shaking his head, pushing a few other bartenders aside as he moved to the back.

  “That was gross.”

  Lara turned her head to the right, seeing that the seat that was once empty now was filled—by a white boy her age with dark brown hair and thin lips. “Yes,” she confirmed.

  He smiled. “What’s your name?”

  “What’s yours?” Lara asked in return, pushing her glass toward the other end of the bar.

  “Alexander,” he answered slowly. “Alexander Johnson.”

  “Great name,” Lara said dryly, lifting a hand to get the attention of another bartender. She asked for a refill.

  “Can you tell me yours?” Alexander asked, a dimple showing on his left cheek. Lara looked at it in disgust.

  Alexander waited as Lara turned away, facing a crowd of people lining the hallway of the bathrooms. A couple leaned against the wall beside the door to the girls’ bathroom, lacing their fingers together and pressing their lips against each other’s. It was where Lara and Kai had been, she realized. Where she had taken his shaky hand and wrapped it around her throat, eyes alight with the sort of desire she had never seen him sport.

  Lara’s heart split—separated and cracked in two—at the memory: their lips a breath apart; their gazes tangible and heated.

  She snapped her head back to face Alexander, hair brushing against the sharpness of her cheeks. “Lara Blake,” she answered, sticking her hand out. Alexander took it, shaking it in return. His grip was weak.

  “Can I get your number?” he asked as he pulled out of her grip. Lara gave it to him, forcing a smile as she pulled a Sharpie from the ear of one of the bartenders, sloppily writing it across Alexander’s freckled arm.

  Why does this feel like a betrayal?

  CHAPTER THREE

  “The grace of a curve is an invitation to remain. We cannot break away from it without hoping to return.” ––Gaston Bachelard

  Lara stood in the middle of the street, staring up at the sky. An obnoxiously yellow taxi honked at her, swerving to prevent a crash.

  “Get out of the road!” the man in the taxi yelled.

  Lara laughed and obliged, walking over to the sidewalk. A few pedestrians stared at her, eyebrows lifted in disdain. She quickened her pace to the coffee shop she’d promised to meet Alexander at, putting her AirPods into her ears and turning on a playlist.

  The coffee shop was nearly filled when Lara arrived; every table was taken and the baristas were talking loudly amongst each other. Lara found Alexander toward the back, sitting with a small cup and scrolling through his phone. He stood upon seeing her.

  “Hey,” he said, going in for a hug.

  Lara shot a hand up between them. “No, thanks,” she said, stopping him. Alexander took a step back. If he looked nervous at Lara’s abruptness, he didn’t show it.

  “Did you want anything?” he asked as he sat back down, the chair squeaking against his weight. “Tea? Coffee?”

  Lara sat in the chair before Alexander, setting her embossed baguette bag onto the dirtied table. “No.”

  He nodded uncomfortably, taking a sip of his drink. “So,” he said. “Where do you go to school?”

  Lara had nearly forgotten that they knew nothing of each other—that this entirely mundane situation was a date. “Juilliard,” she answered.

  “Oh, cool,” he said. “For what?”

  “Dance,” she said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Mainly ballet.”

  “I do love a dancer,” Alexander said, smiling wide.

  Lara forced a laugh, her eyes nearly rolling at his comment. “I bet you do.”

  An unspoken tension settled between the two, the awkwardness almost comical. Alexander shifted in his seat, taking another sip of his coffee. Lara bit her lip to prevent a smile. Even now, as Lara sat before Alexander, unbearably ordinary and dextral, she could make a man squirm.

  For her own amusement, Lara let the silence stretch. She feigned interest in looking around the shop, noting studying students and idle passers-by. A man sat beside Lara and Alexander’s table; he was holding a spiral notebook and a Bic pen, his face wrinkled and focused. The industriousness of him felt familiar, like Lara had seen him before. She assessed his table, eyes briefly skimming over the scattered notes before him. By the way he anxiously checked his watch, it was obvious he was waiting for someone.

  The door to the shop opened, the chime breaking Lara from her evaluation. Lara caught sight of a septum ring, the metal entirely haunting, and then watched as Kai’s checkered slacks and black trench coat stretched across his gracile limbs, his steps confident and compelling.

  Of course he was here, in the coffee shop she’d agreed to meet Alexander at. It seemed fitting that they’d ended up at the same place, that—despite the thousands of coffee shops in New York City—they were both here, in the same room, breathing the same air and smelling the same coffee beans.

  Lara turned back to Alexander, away from Kai’s impassive face. For a moment, she wondered if he meant to walk up to her table; to embarrass Lara in front of Alexander and ruin their joke of a date. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Kai was her ruination, her vilifying muse. In fact, she hoped he would.

  Instead, Kai sat before the older man who was sitting just a few feet away from Lara. He hadn’t noticed Lara sitting beside him.

  Kai and the man began discussing amongst themselves. Lara leaned slightly to the right, attempting to listen in on their conversation. She caught a few words: trust, girl, Juilliard, bell.

  Bell... Who was he with? Lara didn’t care; she didn’t care as much about his companion as she did about unnerving him, about allowing him to see her with a date. The sensation was both strange and invigorating.

  Lara delicately placed her hand on Alexander’s, blinking slowly. “Tell me everything about yourself,” she said loudly—too loudly. Kai flinched.

  “I go to NYU—”

  “What do you study?”

  “Business,” he answered, squeezing Lara’s hand in sudden interest.

  Lara hated business majors. “Very interesting,” she said. “Is that what you want to do?” It was hard, pretending to care.

  “Business?” he asked, looking down at their intertwined hands. Hers was more tanned than his. “I think so—I mean, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll figure it out though.”

  Lara nodded. “I’m sure you will.”

  She moved her eyes slowly to the right, the feeling of Alexander’s clammy hands suddenly tight and uncomfortable. Kai wasn’t looking at his partner; he barely seemed to be him any paying attention. Instead, his eyes were narrowed, focused on Lara and Alexander’s wound hands, tracing the curves of their dainty fingers with visible rage. Lara squeezed Alexander’s hand tighter, whitening his knuckles and drawing a breath from his throat.

  “That kind of hurts—”

  But he didn’t finish his sentence, for Lara sat up from her chair—still partially crouching—and leaned across the table, moving her hands to the collar of his black long-sleeved shirt, tugging his lips to her own.

  The kiss was underwhelming; it was messy and flawed; it was all the things a kiss could be, but only with the right person. Only with someone who wasn’t Alexander. Only with someone like Kai.

  As Alexander’s lips parted, Lara realized he was the first person she’d kissed since Kai. Alexander’s kiss was a whisper compared to Kai’s; it was a light brush across the arm as one ran into a stranger, the fluorescent lights of a supermarket flickering over their heads. Kai was everything this kiss was not, yet, as Lara gripped Alexander’s shirt, she found herself thinking of him. She found herself imagining it was Kai’s lips parting against her own—Kai’s shirt she was desperately clutching.

  Alexa
nder pulled out of the kiss first. His lips were swollen, turned an ugly red. Lara shifted her head, her eyelids lifting slowly.

  Kai was gone.

  Lara smiled.

  KAI WAS GOING TO DIE.

  He was already dying.

  Kai was going to die—he was going to suffocate and burn and drown—by her hand.

  Wasn’t it always meant to be that way?

  AS THE SUN HID FROM the world and its inhabitants, melting slowly into the blue of the ocean, Orion sat on her quilted bed, painting her fingernails a deep purple.

  Her phone rang.

  “Hello?” she said, blowing lightly on her shining nails. The pink of the sunset danced across her bare legs.

  “Hi.”

  “Lilah,” she said. “Hi.”

  “Are you going tonight?”

  “Of course,” said Orion, itching her elbow. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lilah.

  Orion looked down to her fingers; the paint had been smudged. She let out a sigh.

  “I mean, I do know.”

  “Why?” Orion repeated, lying back onto her bed, shutting her eyes. She could feel Lilah’s smile through the phone; she could sense it just by her breathing, by the short breaths she took every few minutes, by the hum in her words.

  “Would you like to walk together?”

  Orion opened her eyes. She looked out of the window, the sky melted in a symphony of colors: purples and pinks, yellows and oranges, blues and greens.

  She imagined, if someone were to paint Lilah—her dark curls; her nose ring and her rosy cheeks; her light brown skin—they would paint her with the colors of a brilliant, prismatic sunset. They’d use the pale pink for her cheeks, coating it over the purple of her skin. Her hair would be a deep orange—fiery and alive.

  “Do you see the sunset?” asked Orion.

  Lilah rustled on the other end, taking a few steps toward an open window. Orion could hear a breeze rush in. She imagined it bristling through Lilah’s deep, coiled curls. They both shivered.

  “Yes,” said Lilah, her voice soft and sanguine. “I see it.”

  Orion smiled. “I’ll meet you at your house.”

  LARA STOOD AGAINST the outside of her apartment, pulling a cigarette from her chapped lips. The smoke filled her lungs like a riveting toxin as she stared into the vastness of the sky, thinking of things she’d never have.

  She often found herself in moments like this, secluded from the busying city. Lara smoked to ease her unsettled mind and its obsessive thoughts; to feel the burn of her lungs as she took one drag, then another, and another, all painfully reminding her of her aliveness—of her beating heart and swollen mind.

  It wasn’t often that she pulled a cigarette from her bag, but it seemed her mind had left her no choice. It seemed her mind had traitorously been straying to Kai.

  Kai, with his trench coats and dirty shoes.

  Kai, with his lethal gaze and massacring toes.

  Kai, Kai, Kai...

  He was a nuisance in her mind, inhibiting each and every vile thought of hers, interrupting her dreams and indwelling her nightmares.

  As Lara exhaled an ashen cloud, she hoped her thoughts of Kai would follow the smoke—would float through the open air and out into the blaring city.

  She held her phone up to her face, the screen illuminating—12:05 a.m. Five minutes past the start of Lithe’s meeting; five minutes too late.

  Lara wondered if they’d allow her to show up late. She wondered if it would make them angrier than they already were.

  She wondered why her mind was thinking of Lithe’s reaction if she wasn’t going to show up. Was she?

  Lara threw her cigarette to the concrete, dulling it with her UNIF boots, before she realized what she was doing. She threw her hood up over her head, licking her lips against the breeze.

  Her phone buzzed.

  You coming? asked Evelyn.

  Lara began walking, staying close to the buildings, avoiding the streets, and quickly typed a message in response. She sent it before she could change her mind.

  Yes.

  THE BELL TOWER WAS loud, filled with voices—voices she knew; voices she had memorized.

  As Lara walked up the creaky stairs, her fingers dragging up the dark wall, she heard Sienna say something about Renee. She heard Orion and Lilah laughing loudly. She heard Evelyn convincing Ana to wait a few more minutes because she’ll be here.

  Lara made it to the top. Evelyn beamed.

  “I told you,” Evelyn said to Ana, wiggling her pointer finger before Ana’s face.

  Ana crossed her arms over her chest. “Next time,” she said, “be on time.”

  Lara shrugged.

  “Let’s discuss,” said Lilah, sitting down. The girls settled across the room, sitting and standing in various places.

  “First,” said Evelyn, “can we all appreciate Lara’s presence?”

  Sana cheered; Violet gave two claps; Mia squeezed Lara’s shoulder; Lara smiled.

  “Welcome back, Lara,” said Ana. “Can we trust that you won’t run off like a child again?” Evelyn slapped her shoulder.

  Lara hesitated. Could she make that promise? She’d nearly forgotten that Kai knew of Lithe, knew that she was a member, and she hadn’t told them—hadn’t told Evelyn. Would they make her leave? Would she be able to return?

  Lara didn’t care though. She wanted to be here—with Lithe. So, telling herself she’d share the secret at the end of the meeting, once they’d all come to trust her once more, she decidedly raised two fingers in the air, saying, “Scout’s honor.”

  “It’s three fingers,” said Violet. Lara raised another finger.

  “Good,” said Ana. “Because things are spiraling. People are onto us.”

  “Who?” asked Lara.

  “Well,” Evelyn started, “Lowri’s stalker for one. You remember she humiliated us all by picking out the wrong guy, of course.”

  “I thought we were over this,” Lowri whined. Her hair was in a slicked ponytail, and Lara wondered if she knew it made her head look overwhelmingly big. “I apologized!”

  “Will you stop crying, Lowri?” said Sienna. “Who the fuck cares? Can we move on?”

  Lowri huffed. “I would love to—”

  “I was talking to Evelyn.”

  “We need a new plan,” said Lilah. “Something to get us off the police’s radar.”

  “We could kill—”

  “Maybe we should take a break from murder, Sana,” said Lara. “I mean, look where it’s gotten us.”

  The girls looked around at each other, faces clouded with bewilderment. It was like they hadn’t used any method but murder before.

  “We’ve never done that,” said Ana. “Why should we start now?”

  “I don’t mean cease the killings,” Lara clarified. “I just think we should come up with a good strategy to deal with the cops before resorting to death.”

  “I see,” Ana said, mulling over Lara’s words. Her leg shook.

  “She’s right,” Violet agreed. “Maybe we could find someone who already has a connection to the police—or even the detective. I mean, it’s unlikely, but it’s possible—”

  “I might know someone,” interrupted Lara. She thought of the secret stored in Kai’s mind. Despite her hopes, she knew he couldn’t have kept it to himself. With that much rage toward her, that much anger, he must have been craving retribution—an end to Lara’s exertions.

  Had he contacted the police?

  Was that who he was sitting with at the coffee shop? A detective?

  Who else would it have been?

  “Who?” said Evelyn.

  “Kai,” Lara said. “Kai Reeves.”

  “Kai?” repeated Evelyn. “Why him?”

  “Because he—” Lara stopped herself. She hadn’t wanted to tell them this early in the meeting, but she supposed she had no other choice. “I have to tell you guys something.”

  “What did you do?” asked Ana, leaning
forward slightly in her chair.

  “Kai... he found out,” Lara said, looking into Ana’s dark eyes, a reflection of the moon painted across the darkness.

  “Found out what?” Ana continued.

  “About us,” said Lara. “About Lithe.”

  The room went silent. Lara could hear the wind brush against the stone of the bell tower, a light touch, barely audible. She could suddenly hear every small sound beyond the bell tower. She noticed the faraway honks of angered drivers; she listened to the laughs of friends as they walked along the street, attempting to balance on the painted street lines as one would balance on a balance beam.

  “How do you know this?” Evelyn whispered.

  “He found the note Ana had given to me. I don’t know how he knew about Lithe already but—”

  “You’re right,” said Ana. “He has to be working with the police. You said nothing of us, correct?”

  “Of course not,” Lara confirmed.

  “So he knows of what we do,” she said, “somehow.”

  Lara nodded. “I think some part of him has always been connected to us.”

  “What do you mean connected?” a girl blurted. Renee.

  “His parents,” Lara explained. “He said...” You killed my parents. “He thinks we killed his parents—his birth parents.”

  “Wait, what? You mean, like, the previous generation of Lithe?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yes, I think. I don’t know.”

  “Do you know their names?” Ana asked, her legs uncrossing as she stood up. She moved to a corner of the room, pulling a box from the shadows.

  Lara bit her lip, shaking her head. “I don’t.” Ana pulled out a book, sighing as she flipped through its pages. It was one Lara hadn’t seen before, yet its rotting cover and breaking spine reminded her of the Lithe Enchiridion.

  “I do,” Evelyn said suddenly. “I was helping Dunne with some paperwork and—never mind, that doesn’t matter. Their names are Miles and Dianne Reeves.”

  Reeves, meaning Kai kept his family name. Lara’s heart pounded, an unfamiliar feeling pouring through her veins.