"What the hell was all this about? I'm confused," one woman said.
A man replied, "Seems like that one guy was hearing voices or something. Spooked everybody out, I guess."
The woman who had sat next to Eve and sparked the whole event threw them an uncertain glance.
"It's a shame we don't address the mental health crisis in this country. A real shame," the man finished.
The woman chimed in. "True. We need to do better as a society, don't we?"
Numerous conversations of this nature followed, while others had a good laugh about the incident as they filed onto the bus. On with their normal lives they went, not realizing they had witnessed something extraordinary, something altogether remarkable.
The bus departed, and Eve sat on the bench. She pulled the mirror from her purse and held it up to her face. There was no reflection. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, she held the mirror to her face. No reflection. "Goddamn it," she muttered. Was she losing control again? Her mother’s sudden passing had triggered it the last time, four years ago. She thought about how long it had taken her to feel normal again after that year. She never wanted a repeat of those dark days.
Eve slipped the mirror inside her purse and inhaled. She glanced at her broken wet shoe and looked over her shoulder at the shoe store. She limped into the store, gazing at the rows of shoes, and stopping at a pair of black two-inch heels. Two inches were manageable.
Conscious about her clothes, which were soaked and dingy from the fall, she hoped not to draw too much attention to herself. She squatted, pulled out a box, and slipped her feet inside a size nine. They weren't comfortable, but they'd suffice. She searched for the price on the box. Please don't let it be more than forty dollars. She had fifty dollars left in her checking account until the next pay over a week away. "Miss?" said Eve, spotting a salesclerk strolling down the next aisle toward her. "How much are these shoes?"
The clerk, a young girl of no more than twenty-five, looked at her and frowned. The girl resumed walking down the aisle.
Realizing she was still invisible, Eve groaned and looked at her soggy clothes and broken shoe. Oh, fuck it. With a quick look left and right, she slipped the new black heels on her feet, placed the empty box on the shelf and stuffed her own broken shoes inside the purse. What could it hurt? She couldn't limp all the way home in broken shoes, and she needed that fifty dollars to get groceries this week. A major department store wouldn't miss one pair of shoes, she concluded.
Keeping her head low, she headed straight for the exit.
She broke into a sprint once outside the store and stopped in front of a bank a block away. Looking through the window, she could see a teller counting money and stuffing it inside something beneath the counter, the cash register. Eve's heart quickened as she watched the teller count some bills. She thought about the unpaid property tax bill lying on her kitchen countertop, about her own paltry checking account. If only she could get a loan to pay the bill...but then, that would be more debt on top of her mountain of student loan debt.
When her cell phone vibrated, she was thankful for the distraction from these unpleasant thoughts. "Hey, Zoey," Eve answered.
"Hey, you," Zoey Res Ellis replied. "I'm standing outside your apartment right now and wondering where the hell you are, since you were supposed to meet me here like twenty minutes ago."
"Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I had a—uh—you know how late CTA be sometimes," she said, crossing the street and hurrying toward the Red Line station at Lake Street. "I'm on my way."
***
The train car was almost empty when she got off at her stop. As an invisible Eve plodded down a quiet neighborhood street to her apartment off Devon and Clark, the cool September breeze brushing against her face, she counted to ten over and over. Come on. One...two...three. Just as she reached her corner, she stopped and pulled out the mirror. "Please, please be normal again."
To her immense relief, she saw her reflection at last. She ran her fingers through her tight curls and slipped the mirror inside her purse.
With extra bounce in her step, she walked two more blocks and stopped at an uninviting three-story apartment building with an expansive, gated courtyard. Smiling, she approached a tall dark-haired woman in tight blue jeans and a faux leather jacket.
Zoey held up a paper bag. "I had Chinese delivered while I was waiting on your late ass."
"I'm sorry. It was—"
"A crazy day at work and CTA is crap. Sure," said Zoey. "I know how you can make it up to me." She planted a lingering kiss at the side of Eve's neck.
Eve flushed bright red.
"Wait," said Zoey, surveying her. "Are those new shoes? And why are you all wet and dirty?"
"It was a crazy day. Come on." She entered the gate code, held it open for Zoey, and grasped her free hand. "I'm glad you were thinking about food. I'm starving."
When they entered the muggy apartment, Mr. Pebbles meowed and rubbed against Zoey's ankle. Smiling, Zoey knelt and gave the shaggy sand-colored cat a gentle pat on the head, and he purred. He strolled to the bowl of food under the kitchen table and nibbled at the food leftover from the morning. "It's a little hot in here. I thought your landlord fixed the AC."
"It went out again last week. He's supposed to come by this week to replace it," said Eve, going straight to the refrigerator. She turned up a carton of orange juice and took a swallow.
Zoey shook her head. "You need to find another apartment. That asshole is ripping you off." She stood at the kitchen table and frowned when she looked at the stack of papers and noticed the envelope addressed from the Porter County Treasurer in Valparaiso, Indiana. "Eve, I thought you'd already paid the property tax bill. Didn't you tell me not to worry about it, that you'd found the money?"
Ignoring her, Eve placed the half-empty orange juice carton inside the refrigerator and filled two glasses with water. She made her way to the sofa and sat the glasses on the coffee table.
"Eve?"
"I lied. I don't make enough, so I haven't been able to save the money to pay it. I calculated how long it would take me on my salary to come up with that much money. At least two years. So, no, I haven't paid it."
"What about a payment arrangement—"
"The county already made it clear that no payment arrangement is available." Eve kicked her feet up on the sofa and tried not to look gloomy.
"It's your childhood home, Eve. Your family's property that they frickin’ built from the—"
Eve sighed. "Zoey, I feel like shit as it is about it. It's the only thing I own in this world, and I'm about to lose it. Don't rub it in."
She shook her head again and cast Eve a heartbroken look. "You remember I offered to—"
"Stop, Zoey," Eve said, her tone sharper than usual. But a moment later, she smiled. "Bring the food and come join me."
Relenting, Zoey grabbed the bag of food and joined Eve on the sofa. "Well, I still say you need to look for another apartment. It's probably moldy as hell in here with all this mugginess."
"Do you know how much rents are in Chicago nowadays? I'm lucky he isn't charging me more."
"You could take me up on that other offer, you know. You never gave me an answer."
"Look, I'm totally into the idea of us living together. And Gabe's cool and all, but—"
"But what?"
"Call me crazy, but I don't think he'd appreciate the idea of his wife's lover moving in."
"Gabe digs you, Eve. You know that."
"Yeah, and I'm sure he's totally not obsessed with the possibility of watching his super-hot wife have kinky sex with her super-hot girlfriend all over the house. But live there with you guys full-time? Doubt he'd dig that."
Zoey shoved her and laughed. "I'm not suggesting you move in with us permanently. Okay, I am, but I know you won't do that. I have another idea. How about you at least let me find you a nice apartment and set you up for a while until you can get caught up on your bills?"
"So I w
ould be like your 'kept woman'. And you can afford to do that? It’s not like you’re rich. You’re a therapist."
"Gabe will help."
Eve scoffed. "Sure, he will."
"He's already agreed to it."
"What? You asked him?" she groaned. "I'm not a charity case, Zoey."
"No shit, Sherlock. You're the smartest, strongest woman I've ever known. And I enjoy your company. Gabe enjoys your company. You're not a charity case—far from it. But everyone needs help once in a while, Eve. So let me help."
She stared at Zoey, not sure what to say.
"Well, I'm putting it out there on the table. It's up to you."
Eve remained quiet, not sure what to say.
In silence, they dug into the Chinese food. As they downed noodles and dumplings, Mr. Pebbles sat on the windowsill and watched them with longing.
"You hear your phone ringing, right?" asked Zoey, stuffing her face with dumplings.
"It's probably the same scam call. Been getting a weird repeat call for a couple of weeks. They left a voice message the last time."
"Hmm...about what?"
Eve swallowed her noodles and took a sip of water. "Some fake offer of a job I never applied for. I've tried to block the number."
"Let me guess. It's one of those 'make a bazillion dollars working from home!' scams, isn't it? I've gotten those."
"Actually, no. It's a government job supposedly at some fake agency called S-P-I or some shit no one's ever heard of. Anyway, I'll figure out how to block it soon."
"Interesting." Zoey put down the bowl of dumplings, grabbed her own cell phone from the coffee table, and spoke into it: "S-P-I."
"What are you—"
"Whoa," exclaimed Zoey, eyes wide, as she dragged her finger along the screen. She turned the screen to Eve.
"Special Procurements Initiative?"
They looked at one another.
"Eve, you mean to tell me you never got curious enough to look it up?"
She shrugged. "Nobody gets offered shit they never applied for. I figured the whole thing was fake."
Zoey's eyes were glued to the screen. "It looks like it's a department or division within our intelligence branch."
"Like the CIA?"
"This is kind of creepy now, Eve. Who the fuck gets calls from the CIA?"
"Terrorists."
She put the phone down and smirked at Eve. "Are you trying to tell me something? Because if you're about to tell me you're some sort of James Bond deep undercover operative for, like, the Russian government, then that's just...sexy."
Eve laughed.
"I'm seriously turned on right now."
"You are a mess," Eve said, grinning.
"I understand you can't tell me. Of course, you're sworn to secrecy." Zoey moved closer to her and slipped her hand under Eve's shirt.
"I never knew you were into role play," said Eve, sliding back on the sofa.
Zoey lifted Eve's shirt and unsnapped her bra. "Your secret is totally safe with me...Miss Bond."
Laughing, Eve fell against the sofa as Zoey kissed her mouth, neck, and shoulders. Worries about bills and the incident on the bus faded into the background, mere white noise. All that mattered now was the lavender scent of Zoey's hair, the soft brown hue of her flawless skin, the fluttering sensation of her gentle kisses.
***
Eve woke before dawn and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Turning over, she rubbed her eyes and groaned. Why was it always so difficult to get a good night's sleep? She sat up, pushed the sheet away, and yawned. She trudged out of the dark room and to the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of water. As she gulped the ice-cold water, she glimpsed her cell phone next to the envelope on the countertop.
She paused and stared at the sleep screen that showed two missed calls and a voice message. I'd be foolish to do it...to return the call. Right? She put the glass in the sink and grabbed the phone. After a deep breath, she listened to the recording.
"I hope this message finds you well. I'm calling to touch base about an opportunity at SPI. I would love to discuss your suitability for the position."
It was the voice of the same woman who had left a message last week.
When the message finished, Eve hit "replay." She stared at the phone after the message finished a third time. This is stupid. Don't be desperate, Eve. You know this is a scam. You know it. Yet she hit "call back" and waited for the number to go to the recipient's mailbox.
To her general surprise, however, a woman answered—the same woman who had left the two messages.
"Hi, Miss Cooper. I can't say I expected you to call at six in the morning."
Eve's mouth hung open, but she didn't say anything.
"I know you're ready to hang up because you're sure this is a trick to get your social security number and whatever else. Let me cut to the chase. This isn't a scam or a trick. We already know your social security number and other sensitive personal identification information. That's of no interest to us. This is an invitation; one we're sincerely hoping you'll accept."
"An invitation to what?"
"That's a...complex question. But I'd be delighted to answer it and more in-person. Meet me at two o'clock today at 1833 South Pulaski."
"Hold on, I didn't say—hello? Hello?"
There was a click and the call disconnected.
***
When Eve boarded the pink line train that Saturday afternoon, she took a seat next to the door. In the nearly empty train car, one person was standing in the aisle, while several others were seated and staring at their phones. A dark-haired woman, laughing and walking alongside a tall woman with a short-cropped haircut, entered the train and sat in front of Eve. The women whispered to each other and laughed, an infectious sort of laughter. She thought about Zoey, wondering if she should take her offer to move in. Gabe is nice, but what if he becomes jealous? Sure, he didn't seem like the jealous sort, but you could never be too sure about people, right?
Eve watched the women lean in close to one another, kiss lightly on the lips, and continue talking in hushed voices. Her gaze drifted to another pair, a woman and a man who were talking animatedly and showing one another something on their phones.
By the time the train reached her stop, the train car was at capacity. She squeezed through the crowd and exited onto the platform. Repeating the address in her mind, she headed toward the escalator. I could turn back, go home, and forget about this. That's the sensible thing to do. But what if there's money in this? An opportunity to save the house? She glanced over her shoulder at the platform below. Oh my God, what am I doing? Oh, fuck it. It's just a meeting. What's the worst that can happen?
When she emerged from the station, she stopped at the first storefront window she saw and peered at it, searching for her reflection. She closed her eyes. I need to be unseen, hidden. Yesterday, she'd lost control and somehow activated her ability. Today, she needed to activate it. I need to be hidden.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and saw only the building behind her reflected in the window.
Eve looked at the street sign. Following her phone's GPS, she took a right on Pulaski and walked five blocks. "You have arrived," the GPS announced. She gazed at the boarded-up gray building, searching for the number.
"Where is it?" she mumbled, searching. "This has to be the right address." She looked around for any sign that she was at the right location.
But besides the small shops, one of which appeared abandoned, the area was desolate. Just greystone apartments and cars parked along the street.
Sighing, she folded her arms across her chest. "Just like I figured. Waste of fucking time."
"I hope to change your mind about that," said a familiar voice.
Startled, Eve spun around and almost lost her balance. She found herself staring into the dark eyes of a woman who was leaning against a black SUV.
"I'm glad you made it, Miss Cooper."
"You...you can see me?" Eve looked at the w
indow of the car and didn't see her reflection.
The woman smirked. "No, of course not. But I can hear you."
"How do—"
"I know about your particular talent? Well, that's exactly what I'd like to speak with you about. But, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to chat inside, since I'm pretty sure it's about to rain." She turned to the car and glanced over her shoulder at Eve. "There's a diner a couple of minutes away. Is that okay with you?"
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me how you know. I’m careful to never use my ability—well, besides when I had an accident yester—“
“Four years ago, we detected some unusual activity in Indiana. So we sent some of our people there and asked questions. Your father, Jackson Cooper, had some interesting things to say.”
“You’re lying. My father doesn’t know about my ability.”
“Right. He doesn’t know. But he did describe a weird incident that happened during your mother’s funeral. He believes he must’ve had one too many drinks because it’s the only thing that could explain what he saw.”
Eve’s heart sank. She knew what was next.
“He claims your mother’s ‘invisible spirit’ not only screamed at him for hurting her but also drove off in his pickup truck afterward. He said he couldn’t see her, but he recognized her voice. Several funeral guests also reported seeing a pickup truck speed off with apparently nobody behind the wheel. It seems they convinced themselves they had succumbed to some sort of mass hysteria due to grief. Any of this ringing a bell to you?”
Some shadow agency’s been watching me for years? Spying on me? Making herself visible again, she glared at the woman. "Who are you?"
"Agent Olivia Yu, Special Procurements Initiative, Chicago Division."
"Okay. And why are we meeting at this abandoned building?"
"Oh, this place? It's convenient. I live about six blocks south near 24th." She paused and looked at the dark clouds that had moved in while they spoke. "So, is a diner okay with you?"
Eve and the Faders Page 2
