The Tour

by Shelby Rebecca

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Secrets and Noodles

  “Should we order in?” I ask as I aimlessly wander around the kitchen after Manny and Devon get Kolton settled in the master bedroom. His dark room at the end of the hall feels angry, like a black hole, and I plan to avoid it for a while.

  “I can help you fix something,” Deloris says from her spot on the Sante Fe colored eighties couch.

  “No way, Deloris. How ’bout we order pizza?” I ask.

  “Pizza, yeah!” Riley cheers, hopping up from the couch and setting down her Nintendo controller.

  “They don’t deliver here. This house is in the boonies¸” Devon says, winking at Riley. She deflates and turns back to the old-school Donkey Kong game she’s playing on the relic of personal gaming heaven.

  I wonder if Kolton’s dad played Nintendo or if they bought it for Kolton—he was just a little guy back then. When I turn back toward the kitchen, Devon is perusing the pantry and starts taking out the makings for spaghetti. “This’ll be easy. Besides, everybody likes spaghetti,” he says.

  I open the fridge, finding mushrooms, spinach, baby carrots, and grape tomatoes. Without being asked or told, I get out a cutting board, clean the veggies, and start slicing them. “Who brought the food?” I ask.

  “There’s a housekeeper who stocks the fridge,” Devon explains.

  “Are you going to make two sauces?” I ask when I see him pull out some hamburger meat.

  “Oh, right,” he answers, remembering that I’m a vegetarian. “What do you say, guys? Vegetarian night?” he asks, pointing to all the different veggies I’ve got surrounding me.

  “Blech,” Riley grunts, but keeps her eyes on the blinking screen.

  “That’s fine, dear,” Deloris says. “Riley’ll eat anything you put in front of her. She’s a good girl, aren’t you, Riley?” To that, Riley’s bottom lip sticks out, but I don’t think she’s going to give us any trouble.

  As Devon fills the tall pot with water to boil, I decide to ask him what happened up there. I really need to know. Kolton is so angry, and its effect on his moods is palpable. “How’d she get in, Devon?” I ask softly, as if it makes no difference whether he tells me. I’m sure Kolton’s told him not to say, but Manny’s outside smoking a cigarette, and I don’t want to ask him since he had more to do with how it ended than anyone else.

  “Mia,” he states, firmly, and sets the pot on the stove, turning up the heat. My eyebrow cocks up like, ‘what?’ and his voice drops to a monotone whisper. “I’m only telling you this because I think you have a right to know since you were there, too. He doesn’t want you to know anything.”

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  “Through the staff entrance,” he admits, looking at Deloris and Riley, who don’t seem to notice what we’re talking about.

  When I turn to face him, knife in hand, confused as hell, he clarifies, “through the elevator in the kitchen, Mia. That’s the staff entrance.” I didn’t know there was an elevator in the kitchen. It must be in the pantry on the other side where Deloris’ bedroom door is.

  “How’d she? I mean, why didn’t the alarm go off?”

  “The alarm wasn’t set.” His eyes dart over to Deloris and Riley, who still haven’t seemed to hear us. “When they came home, they forgot to set it. Even if they had, that elevator wasn’t alarmed. We had a camera on it, but there’s a key needed to get in, then you have to know the code. We didn’t feel, we didn’t consider it; we messed up, basically, when we installed the system. The elevator was a weak link in our armor.”

  “But the cameras. Who watches them? Why didn’t someone alert us before it got ugly?”

  “We didn’t have anyone watching. The cameras were supposed to be a deterrent, not a twenty-four hour monitoring system. It was more for protection, just in case.”

  “But? But—how was that supposed to deter her?”

  “She was warned about them. She knew they were there, but it didn’t matter. She robbed some other resident’s staff member of the key, but—”

  “But what?” I ask.

  “The lady didn’t realize it was gone until later. She told the police that Katharina bumped into her and the key was probably stolen while she was picking up the groceries. She had an extra one in her purse, so she thought she’d lost it until she saw the story on the news.”

  “How’d she know the code?”

  “We don’t know that, yet. The cops might, but they haven’t told us.”

  “Have you seen the footage?” I ask, feeling goosebumps of escaped fate all over my skin. He just nods.

  “We shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” he says, his back stiffening. “He’s not going to be happy about us talking like this.”

  “But I should be able to know, right? That was me she wanted to kill, my sister. Not just him. Why is he hiding everything from me?” It feels like a heavy shadow hanging over me with no face.

  “He’s protecting you, Mia. What happened up there—” he starts, but his bottom lip stiffens and his chin starts to quiver. He stops talking because the words are too ugly to come out but they’re about me and mine, and I want to know. Rather than divulge, he takes a scoop of my veggies and throws them into the pissed-off oil so they can sizzle and brown.

  When Manny comes in, I try not to feel weird about him. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable—it’s that he is, and I don’t want him to know I’ve noticed.

  Killing a person has to change someone, straight down to their DNA. If he’d ever had to kill someone before, I doubt it was a beautiful, famous woman, or that it would have been talked about all over the news. I make a mental note not to read any of it. Even though I want to, it won’t be the truth. I want Kolton to tell me.

  I smile at him and offer a carrot just as the doorbell rings. “Are we expecting someone?” They don’t seem alarmed. Manny is crunching the little carrot between his teeth when he opens the door.

  “Hello,” says a tall, slim brunette in the doorway. “I’m Dr. Wilshire here to see Kolton Royce.” She purrs, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  “Yes, right this way,” he nods, motioning her toward Kolton’s room. She catwalks past us with her doctor bag on wheels, down the hall, and I move toward the hallway in time to see her feeling for the light switch before it blinks on. I stand here, watching. When Kolton sees her, he smiles.

  He knows her; this isn’t just some doctor who does house calls. My throat starts to burn and my stomach tightens into a knot. Her voice is soft, comforting, and annoying as fuck. It prickles my skin worse than a rash. He chuckles, warming the air between them, making me feel like I’m in Antarctica compared to them.

  I will him to look at me, but he doesn’t. She removes the needles and wipes the top of his hand with antiseptic before pulling the bandage off the wound on his chest. I see now that his tattoo is unharmed; the large gash is just above it. She cleans his wounds, slowly. I’m watching her fingers as she works her magic, and I know she’s touched him before. It’s obvious.

  She’s older, probably in her early forties, but beautiful. She takes care of herself, and everything about her scares the living shit out of me.

  They’re talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s like he’s trying to keep me from hearing their conversation.

  “Are you done with the veggies?” Devon asks and I gasp. I forgot he was even in the kitchen. I walk back to him and I realize he’s added the sauce to the veggies and is washing spinach for the salad.

  “Who is that lady?”

  “She’s a doctor,” Manny replies, all too serious.

  “But where’d she come from? Do they know each other?”

  “They know each other,” Devon clarifies. “She’s a friend of the family.”

  “So, he just called her or—?”

  “Yeah. He called and asked if she could come check on him since he didn’t get to check out of the hospital properly. She’s bringing him some antibiotics and pain meds.” I g
rab a glass bowl and start throwing all the ingredients together for the salad when I catch Devon and Manny give each other a look that says, ‘she’s jealous’.

  “Is that really appropriate?” I ask, feeling the burn of jealousy. I want her gone. “Does she have to come back again?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be back to check on him. And, if I might add,” Manny starts, “If you’re going to act like this every time some woman he’s slept with comes around, you’re going to be one pissed off…”

  “Manny!” Devon exclaims, shushing him.

  “I’m going outside,” he says, grabbing his cigarettes and slamming the front door. So I was right; he has slept with her. He’s slept with everyone, I guess. It burns, and I can’t help it.

  “He’s changing, Mia,” Devon says softly, breaking into my pity party. “You should know that. He has been completely faithful to you since you came into his life. His past won’t change.”

  “I—I know that,” I admit.

  “Don’t punish him, or yourself, over things that meant nothing to him.”

  “But why does he bring her here? To flaunt his past in front of me?” He opens his mouth to respond, but her heels clicking back up the hallway interrupts him.

  “Devon,” she says. “I’ve given him some pain meds and antibiotics. That wound on his upper arm looks a little too red for my liking. But he needs to take the rest of these—two a day until they’re gone. And the pain meds, he just needs to take those when he needs them.”

  “Aren’t you coming back?”

  “I can’t. Not until I get back from LA, which will be about three days. So if he has any problems,” she takes a card out of her purse and sets it on the table, “call my husband, Carl. He can come right over. If that fever comes back, though, you need to take him in. No waiting.”

  “Got it,” Devon answers, as Manny comes in bringing his cigarette smell with him. I feel my lips mouthing the words husband Carl. I wondering if they slept together when there was a husband Carl, or before his time.

  “You did a great job getting your sister out of that fire, young lady,” she tells me, swinging her hair behind her shoulder.

  “Which time?” I offer sarcastically, unable to stop the words.

  Her eyes narrow on me as if she’s reading me, maybe to find out if I know about her and Kolton. “Both,” she answers. “Both times. Such a hero. Kolton’s lucky to have someone like you. God knows he needed some settling down.”

  There’s a flood of things I’d like to say, but I choke them down with a sip of water from the counter. I don’t even know whose glass it is but it’s a healthy distraction. “Thanks,” I blurt and sit down, wishing she’d go away already.

  “Deloris, right?” she asks. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, fine,” she responds. “I wasn’t so much hurt as I was just plain exhausted. I’ve got some cuts from falling when I’d come down the stairs, but those are healing up nicely.”

  “Do you mind if I take a look?”

  “No, not at all. No peeking, boys,” she laughs, glancing at Devon and Manny.

  “Would you feel more comfortable if we stepped outside, Ma’am?” Devon asks, already moving toward the door. He’d just dumped the noodles into a metal colander on the sink, the steam still fuming toward the ceiling. “Mia, can you put those noodles in the big bowl and add the oil real quick while we give Deloris some privacy?”

  “I got it.” As I’m doing my part, I watch the doctor check Deloris over, laughing at her nervous jokes and helping her feel at ease.

  “I think you’re going to be just fine,” Dr. Wilshire says before turning toward me. “How are you, Mia? I know you got caught up in a mob today at the mall. Did you get hurt at all?”

  “No. They were just taking pictures. Somebody pulled my hair, but that was the worst of it.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” she answers, pausing a little too long while she looks me over. “I mean, not about the hair pulling incident. I’m glad to hear you’re okay and unharmed.” It’s forced and weird, like she’s trying too hard for me to like her. It irritates me.

  I keep stirring the noodles. They slither around in the oil making a wet sliding sound that makes me just as uneasy as she does. She clears her throat. “Nice to meet you,” she adds, looking at me. “Nice to meet all of you ladies. I’ll go tell the men they can come back in. Everyone’s decent.” She winks, and I feel one side of my lip curl up in a sneer. She trips over the rug by the front door before she gets it open.

  Yep. She cheated on Carl with Kolton. She’s dying for me not to know. Freaking bitch.

  I file that away in my mental filing cabinet. If she ever pisses me off, I’m calling Carl Wilshire. I enter the phone number she left on the counter into my phone under the contact, Carl Cheater Bitch, and I hate myself a little for wishing her all kinds of harm on her trip to LA.

  This jealousy is not a healthy feeling. It feels slimy, like the noodles.

  All I eat for dinner is the salad.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Growing Up

  I help Riley get into her pajamas after donning my own. Deloris is going to sleep on the small twin bed that used to be Kolton’s when he was little, but Riley decides to camp out on the floor. We found her a sleeping bag in the garage a little earlier, and when we pull it out of its special green bag and fluff it up, she jumps inside like she’s really camping in the wilderness. I love that when you’re a little kid, you can still find time to play in any circumstance. It’s such an innocent quality. I love that about her.

  We don’t have her night light anymore, and she hasn’t been asking for it in the hotel. It seems she forgot she was afraid of the dark. While her breathing slows, and Deloris starts to snore lightly, I take notice of the blue painted dresser under the window, the closet with little boy clothes still on hangers, and the toys in bins in the corner. It’s like a time capsule. I wonder if he’ll ever be able to move these things out of here. But why would he want to? Other than if he decides to move here permanently.

  Once I’m sure Riley’s asleep, I walk into the hallway and battle with myself about where I should sleep. With the guy who slept with Carl’s wife some time ago, or somewhere else. I don’t really feel comfortable sleeping in Kolton’s bed anyway. We’ve never had that type of relationship before. I slept in his room just one night before the fantasy ended. I don’t even know if he wants me with him or not. I’m betting on not. He’s still angry with me after the incident at the mall.

  I go back out to the living room where Devon and Manny are watching the news—the bad news, that is, because all the news ever reports on are bad things. When they see me, they turn the channel. Kolton must have told them I’m not allowed to find out about what happened on TV. It’s freaking hopeless.

  As I stand here, I don’t know what to do. I check the kitchen. It’s clean, so I have no excuse to be out here ‘helping out’. I sit down at the table and pull out my phone and answer a couple texts from Kaya. She’s worried about me, so I let her know we got out of the mall, and we’re fine. All I’m missing are a few pieces of hair… and my dignity. I check Twitter and put in my name for the search.

  I scroll through post after post, going back to this morning when I was at the mall. Sure enough, people had spotted me. They’d taken pictures and posted them. Some of the images had nice things to say underneath them. “She’s so pretty up close.” Others not so nice. “Let’s do a good old fashioned slut shame.”

  It burns in my stomach, and I realize I am not in charge of my image, at all. My image is what belongs to them. All I can hold onto, and guard, is the real me—what I know to be true about myself. When those people were looking at me at the mall, it was as if they didn’t really see me. It was the weirdest feeling. How did it become okay in their minds to pull my hair, or take my picture without my consent, or chase me and Riley out of the store?

  It’s in this moment I realize, in my haste to provide for Riley, I became a public pla
ything. They’re allowed to do with my image what they want to—love it or hate it. Put it down, put it on a pedestal and then knock it off at will. Gina can try to sway their opinions, but, in the end, it’s out of my hands what they think of me.

  This is my new reality, and as the features of this life become clear, the sharp edges of my cage seem to pull up around me. He warned me, didn’t he? He tried to talk me out of it. I sink into the chair, my shoulders feeling the weight of the worlds’ opinion. The overwhelming solitude that this career, this lifestyle, this boyfriend, will really mean for me rusts over all the fluff I’d imagined would be on the other end of success.

  “Aren’t you tired?” Manny asks and I shrug. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to, uh, bother Kolton, and I don’t know where to sleep.”

  “You can have the guest room,” Devon says, but his head is cocked to the side like a dog when it’s trying to figure out a person’s expression. “This couch pulls out into one of those sofa beds and that chair is a futon pad, so one of us will sleep on it.”

  “I think that would be perfect for me,” I say.

  “No, I meant one of us two.”

  “You’re both too big,” I decide. I don’t wait for them to talk me out of it. I yank the futon pad off of the wooden frame and pull it over by the long table. “I’m going to sleep right here.”

  “You sure?” Devon asks. “Don’t you want to sleep in the master bedroom?”

  I stick my bottom lip out and shake my head.

  “Suit yourself,” Manny says. “I’ll flip you for it,” he says to Devon, pulling a quarter out of his front pocket. “Your call.”

  “Heads,” Devon declares, taking a sip of his Coke. Manny flips and slaps it on the back of his hand, and Devon’s arms jolt up into the air. “Booya!” he cheers, obviously winning the more comfy bed in the third bedroom. I’d peeked in there earlier—it’s a guest room with art materials on a table and a desk. I think it was a place his parents shared to work on their different passions. His mom’s art stuff; his dad’s business stuff. And then a twin bed for company.