“Don’t.” Lucy reached out for the phone, but Liza held her in her chair with one hand and held the phone up with the other. “Seriously . . . ,” Lucy said. But it was too late. Liza took another photo and sent it. Lucy turned toward the mirror.
She looked completely different this time. Sweet and innocent on the surface, but with a simmering layer underneath. The blush made her face look flushed, like she had recently been doing something face-flush-worthy. Her lips were plump and shiny, like ripe fruit.
“Guess your buddy wasn’t into it.” Liza made a frowny face and put the phone down. “That’s okay. Someone else will be. You can be anyone now,” she said. “Whoever you need to be.”
“But who do I need to be?” Lucy said. Although what she really wanted to say, but didn’t, was “Who do I need to be to get Alex back?”
Liza half smiled, then shrugged.
“Wash your face,” she said. “Then we start again.”
Half an hour and four faces later, Liza left Lucy with dewy skin, flushed cheeks, smudgy eye makeup, and her hair combed into a strangely sexy, tousled pile.
Olivia and Gil were back in the bathroom. Liza was putting cat’s-eye liner on Olivia.
“You look amazing,” Gil said, then leaned over and whispered into Lucy’s ear, so no one else could hear her, “just one last thing.” And she gave Lucy’s neck a little squirt of perfume. Lucy breathed in deep. It smelled like ginger and something she could not name.
Lucy moved her hand up to touch her face, to make sure, just to make sure. The hand in the mirror moved too.
“Well,” Liza said from across the room, “I am sort of a miracle worker. So long as she never has to talk to anyone, she’ll do just fine. Maybe it’s time to start telling everyone she really is a mute.”
“Liza,” a voice said, “maybe it’s time for you to shut the hell up.”
Lucy gasped because suddenly she realized something: it was her own voice that had said it. Out of her very own mouth.
For a moment, the room was silent. No one moved. Perhaps they had all stopped breathing.
This was very bad. A horrible mistake.
Lucy opened her mouth, the apology bubbling over the edges of her lip, ready to dribble down her chin. “I . . .”
And at the same time Liza opened hers and a single syllable slid out. “You . . .”
But they were both drowned out by something else, a tinkling, jingling sound that filled the entire room. A delighted laugh. Olivia’s. “See, Li-Li?” She draped one arm around Liza’s shoulders. “People change faster than you think. . . .”
Chapter Twelve
An old country song was playing on the stereo.
“Sad times with my baby baby gone, I’ll sing this song till she comes back home.”
It was an hour later and Gil had led them into a big room filled with row after row of pool tables. Hanging over each one was a yellow glass lantern. The place smelled like chalk and something musty.
“What is this place?” Lucy asked.
Liza pointed to a sign over the bar, RANDY’S BILLIARDS, and rolled her eyes.
Lucy looked around. The walls were covered in huge black-and-white photos of people playing pool in the forties and fifties. Lucy stared at one of a woman with long, dark hair and dark-painted lips holding a cue, poised for a shot. There was a row of guys behind her all staring.
“It’s a little run-down,” Gil said. “But it’s always ninety-nine percent guys, which is why we brought you here. And Randy, who runs it, is nice so . . .”
As if on cue a big grizzly bear of a man stepped out from behind the bar. He was wearing a plaid shirt and a cowboy hat and had a cigar chomped between his teeth. “What’s this you’re saying, Miss Gillian?”
“I was just saying that yours is the best pool hall I’ve ever been to,” Gil said. “But that the owner’s a big ol’ jerk.”
He grinned and shook his head. “No more betting, little lady,” he said. “You hear?” He pointed his cigar at her, and then up to a sign on the wall. NO GAMBLING, it said in peeling red letters.
“No more smoking, big guy.” She pointed to the big NO SMOKING sign right next to it.
He winked and shook his cigar at her. The smoke curled up.
He handed Gil a stacked set of balls. “Take sixteen. On the house for my favorite sharks.”
Gil smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then walked toward the back; Olivia, Liza, and Lucy followed.
As they walked, every guy looked up; some smiled, some nodded, some tried to pretend they were less aware of the girls than they obviously were.
“You know those guys?” asked Lucy.
“Well, not all of them . . .” Olivia smiled. “Yet.”
“We like to come here to try stuff out,” Gil said. “It’s a good place to practice all sorts of things. And there’s hardly ever any girls here. . . .”
“Not that we’re afraid of a little competition,” said Liza.
Liza and Olivia wandered off.
Gil led Lucy over to one of the tables where two guys in their midtwenties were in a heated game. One was walking slowly around the table, staring at it, like a hunter stalking his prey. He was wearing a thin black T-shirt stretched across the muscles of his back.
“A hundred bucks says my friend here can make that shot for you,” Gil called out. “Left corner pocket.” On the table were one white ball, two striped balls, and a black ball off to the side.
“Yeah, right,” said the guy’s opponent. He let out a laugh. “Even I wouldn’t be able to make that shot. And”—he smirked and smoothed his greasy-looking goatee—“I’ve never missed a shot in my life.”
“Well, then let your friend make the bet and win the money.”
Goatee snorted. “Hell, this little thing gets that shot, I’ll give you a hundred bucks too.”
“Sounds good to me,” Gil said.
“I’m in,” said the guy in the black shirt.
Lucy stared at Gil. What was she doing? “I’m a terrible pool player,” Lucy whispered. She’d played pool all of once in her entire life, with Tristan two summers ago. The balls kept bouncing off the table.
“I think you might be better than you think,” Gil said.
“No, but seriously,” Lucy said. “I don’t think you understand how bad I am.”
Gil took the cue from the guy in the T-shirt. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a little blue square of chalk. She poked the cue into the chalk and twirled it around. Then she put her hand over Lucy’s hand when she handed her the cue. Lucy stared at her fingers; they were tingling.
“Go on then,” Gil said.
She could hear the two guys snickering. “Must be some trust-fund babies we have here,” Goatee said. “Eager to get rid of Da-da’s money.”
“Hit the white one into the black one, bounce it off that wall, that wall, and then get it in the pocket in the back on the left,” Gil whispered.
Lucy held the cue. Her hands were shaking. She looked down at the table, pulled the cue back, then brought it forward toward the white ball. The balls swished across the table propelled by a force far stronger than that with which she’d hit it. CLACK! The white one connected with the eight ball. It sounded like a gunshot. The eight ball bounced off one wall, another wall, and then sailed smoothly into the back left pocket. Lucy had made the shot.
For a second they all stood there. Lucy and the two guys had their mouths hanging open.
Finally Goatee let out a low whistle.
“Pay up, boys,” Gil said. She held out her tiny hands. Lucy stood there blushing. But when she looked up, she stopped. The guys were staring at her. They weren’t annoyed or suspicious. They were . . . awed.
No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not in her entire life. If only Alex had been there to see what had just happened.
They piled their cash into Gil’s outstretched hands. Then she crossed her arms and handed each the others’ money.
“Take your gir
lfriends somewhere good this weekend, okay? They deserve it for putting up with your asses.” But her tone was sweet and she was smiling.
They stared at the bills, wholly and completely confused.
“Come on, Luce,” Gil said. She linked her little arm through Lucy’s and pulled her away.
“How did you do that?” Lucy asked. She turned back toward the table where the guys were still watching her. Goatee gave her a little smile and a nod.
“I didn’t,” Gil said. “You did.” She paused. “But . . .” And she brought her finger up to her lips.
Gil led Lucy over to where Olivia and Liza were talking to a group of four guys. They were standing around the pool table, all skinny with tattoos and dark jeans. They looked like they belonged in a boy band.
Olivia and Liza stepped away from the table.
“You’re going to meet some of our friends now,” Olivia said quietly to Lucy. “Just do your best to make each one of them like you.”
“With your newly sparkling wit it should be no problem,” Liza said. She was at least one-eighth smiling.
“Gillykins, go introduce her to . . .” Olivia pointed toward a guy in the corner at a table by himself.
He had dark hair, a sweet-looking face, black button-down shirt and gray suit pants, glasses with thick, black frames and dark gray eyes behind them. He was leaning over the table. He took a shot and missed. He stood back up. He was tall, but held himself like he did not know that. He was wearing a red plastic watch.
Gil walked Lucy over. The guy smiled shyly.
“This is Lucy,” Gil said to him. She looked up at Lucy. “And this is Colin.”
“Hi there.” His voice was soft but deep. Alex had a low voice. Sometimes when she was leaning with her back to his chest and he was talking, she could feel his words vibrating inside of her, like music with a heavy bass. Lucy felt her throat tightening and swallowed hard.
This guy who was not Alex smiled uncomfortably.
“I’m Lucy.” Lucy tried to force herself to smile too, but it didn’t quite work. “Um, I mean, obviously.” She coughed out a strangled laugh.
“I’m Colin,” said not-Alex.
“Right,” said Lucy. The lump was working its way up her throat again. What was she doing here? Here at some strange pool hall in the middle of the day trying to flirt with this guy who wasn’t Alex?
Olivia walked over. “Gil,” she said. “I’m going to take Lucy for a second.” Olivia brought Lucy over to Liza who was sitting to the side. Gil stayed with Colin. Lucy saw Gil reach out and gently touch his face. She held her hand there for a moment. She whispered something and he closed his eyes.
Then Gil left him and walked over to Liza and Olivia at table sixteen.
Lucy felt the hole in her chest start to open up again. It felt huge, like the sinkhole she’d seen a picture of once. If she didn’t stop it, the whole world could fall into it.
“Lesson two,” said Liza. She held out two fingers and pursed her perfect lips. “Remember when we said you don’t have to be so nicey-nicey? Well, that doesn’t mean you should make it seem like you’re disgusted by everyone. Really, that’s only adorable on some people.” She smirked. “And you are not one of them.” Liza stood up, leaned over, and took her shot. A ball narrowly missed its pocket.
“But I,” Lucy started. Her voice broke. “I wasn’t disgusted by him. I was just . . .”
“We know,” said Olivia. “You miss the guy who broke your heart.”
Lucy shrugged and looked down.
“What, you thought we didn’t know that? So you miss him.” She shrugged. “So what? Everyone else doesn’t have to know that.”
“I can’t change how I feel,” Lucy whispered.
“Yeah, but you can change how you seem like you feel. A successful Heartbreaker is an amazing actress,” said Olivia. “Only most of her performances are for an audience of one. Every role is different of course, because everyone likes different things. But you know what pretty much every guy responds to?”
Lucy shook her head.
“Tits!” said Liza, throwing her arms up. A few guys nearby looked over. One shouted, “Woo!”
Olivia grinned and shook her head. “Being liked. Which is not the same thing as being worshipped or fawned over or obsessed about or lusted after, by the way. The thing is, you can’t be fake about it.”
“How can I be acting and not be fake?”
“By convincing yourself you actually feel it,” said Olivia. “Your face does a lot of things you’re not conscious of doing, and other people aren’t conscious of noticing, but on some level they do notice, and these things affect all our interactions. For example, when you’re looking at someone you like, your pupils expand. That’s just biology. Hard for you to control on your own, but if you look at someone and are able to pull out some feelings of warmth for them, your pupils will follow. And the other person will feel that, without being conscious of it, and they’ll like you more. So find something to like about him, whoever he is. Or if you have to, pull up feelings for someone else—even for your ex. Don’t fight them, go with them, and then just send them in your target’s direction.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Lucy.
But Olivia just nodded at Gil who went and got Colin. “Colin, this is Lucy.”
Lucy took a breath.
“Hey,” said Lucy. “Um, nice to meet you, again.”
He stared at her in confusion. “Have we ever met before? I’m pretty good with faces. . . .”
Lucy laughed, expecting him to laugh along with her. But he didn’t, just chewed on his lip, looking nervous.
Gil was standing behind Colin. “I think maybe you’re confusing Colin with someone else, Lucy,” she said. When their eyes met, Gil winked.
Lucy’s entire body was tingling.
She looked at Gil again. She stared into her eyes. What did you do?
Gil mouthed, Go.
So Lucy did.
She closed her eyes and inhaled. She pictured Alex’s face. Let the love wash over her. She thought about his jaw, his chin, his lips. She stopped when she got to his ears.
Oh, how she loved those sweet, delicate things. Tristan once told Lucy it looked like he’d glued dried apricots to the sides of his head. But Lucy loved them precisely because they did not quite fit with the rest of him. Once she’d told Alex how much she loved them, and he’d mumbled something in reply about how small ears ran in his family. It was the only time she’d ever seen him look embarrassed.
Thinking about Alex’s ears, she felt that wave of love swell until she thought she might drown in it. Then she forced her eyes open and she stared at Colin’s face, ears first.
There was a tiny freckle in the middle of his left one, where an earring would be if he had one. If she loved him, she would love that freckle. And what else? She took in his whole face, and instead of seeing him the way she saw everyone—as flawed in the ways in which they were not Alex—she tried to imagine what he would look like to her if he was her Alex. What if his face was her very favorite face out of the billions and billions of faces on this planet? She’d love the way his smile only came in quick flashes, like he was embarrassed about his teeth. She would love the way one of them was slightly crooked. She’d love the fine white scar where his lip met his chin.
Lucy felt something around her eyes release, like the feeling you get if you’ve been looking at too-bright lights and finally look away.
“Lucy’s a friend of ours,” Gil said. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Lucy started to blush, but Colin blushed much faster and redder.
“Colin, we’re all going out tomorrow night,” Gil said. “You should come.”
“Okay,” Colin said. He looked down at his shoes, gray canvas sneakers; a piece of rubber was flopping off the side of one toe. He looked back up and at Lucy. “Hey, that was a really amazing shot you took before,” he said quietly. “Over there, I mean.” He pointed toward the table where Goatee and his
friend were racking up another game. “I’ve always wanted to be able to play like that.”
“Me too,” said Lucy. She smiled.
He smiled.
“I guess I should get back to my game,” he said. “I mean, I’ll need to practice if I’m ever going to play you.”
Gil linked her arm through his and walked him back to his table. When she returned, Olivia and Liza were with her and Gil was beaming.
“Good job,” she said. “Seriously. And I sensed a . . . a thing between the two of you. Maybe he could be your . . .”
“Gil,” Olivia said sharply.
Gil looked down.
“But wait.” Lucy could barely breathe. “When you touched his face before, and then he didn’t know who I was. Was that . . . ? I mean, that was . . . wasn’t it?”
Gil shot Lucy a look. Lucy immediately regretted saying anything at all.
Olivia spoke slowly, her tone was cold and hard. “Gil should not have done that.” And then she looked at Lucy. “And you should not be asking about it.”
Lucy swallowed.
Olivia nodded. “Try them next?” She pointed toward two guys at the back of the room.
Gil grabbed Lucy’s hand and started walking her over.
“I’m sorry,” Lucy whispered. “I didn’t realize . . .”
Gil just shook her head. “Ssh,” she said.
They were at the table now. The guys stopped their game when Gil walked up. The first one gave her a cheek kiss. The second one picked her right up so her legs dangled a foot from the ground. He put her down and Gil punched him in the arm.
“Lucy, this is Eric and Stephen,” she said. “They like to show off how tall they are.” Gil stuck her tongue out at Eric, the one who’d picked her up. Then she leaned over and mock whispered, “The reason they have the same face is not because they’re two versions of the same hotness robot, but because they’re twins. Stephen and Eric, this is Lucy. She’s our new friend.”
“Nice to . . . ,” Lucy said. But when she looked at their faces, she lost her words.
“Hey,” Eric said. “What’s up? You’re a new friend of the girls’, yeah? That’s cool. Always nice to meet a new friend of theirs. So, are you into pool?”
The Secret Sisterhood of Heartbreakers Page 8
