Lies, Mistrust and Fairy Dust

by Xavier Neal

  “Well―I―you know―really I―”

  “Now.”

  Without further resistance, I rush into the elevator. Obviously, more annoyed than before he grunts as he swipes a security card. The elevator immediately shoots up like a bad roller coaster ride. Doing my best to keep my head down, I fixate on his clean black sneakers and admire the aroma that has filled the elevator. It reminds me of a sweet cologne, mixed with man musk, and a hint of pinewood. Why do I smell pinewood? I'm hoping it's the elevator.

  The door opens and I follow him sheepishly down a long hallway. The carpet is a deep light gray color and the walls are dark gray tented with chrome colored railings. What's with all the gray? I mean the rest of the city seems so lively and majestic, yet everything surrounding Kendall seems to be just the opposite. We arrive at the very end, which is when he swipes his key card again.

  Kendall opens the door revealing a side of him that I wouldn't have imagined. Inside his apartment is a glowing electric neon blue light that seems to be coming from a fish tank. The creatures inside look like snakes rather than fish, what do I know? I thought werewolf was the correct term. The fish tank happens to be the entity that splits the kitchen area and the living room. While Kendall continues on his path of flipping switches, his space fills with light giving me a better look around. The walls are a very light gray color. Across from the fish tank, is a slate blue colored couch with photos hanging above it. On the wall beside it is a matching love seat. There's an opening on the other side of it that wraps around to the kitchen, which looks like you can gain access to from either direction. On the other side of the apartment, is a gray glass dining room table, which matches the pattern of the coffee table in the living room. There are four tall, uncomfortable looking chairs located around it. While I'm standing on the marble tiled entry way, that seems to have a path way down the hall and into the kitchen, the rest of the floor seems to be coated in electric blue colored carpet. Again. Not quite what I expected from a guy like Kendall. Then again, I didn't expect him to take pity on me and he has. I expected Justin to be around and he wasn't. Maybe I'm just not a good judge of character. A drop of water from my damp hair drops down onto my arms that are cradling my stomach. I shiver.

  My attention relocates to Kendall, whose face is buried in the stainless steel refrigerator, I can see from where I'm standing. From behind he looks totally normal. I'd never guess his choice of profession was a cop.

  “Stop staring,” his voice demands not turning around. I drop my face down to my uncomfortably wet, slightly in pain feet, that are squeezed into heels I can't believe I'm still wearing.

  I lean my back against the front door and shut my eyes tightly. This is a mistake. I should never have come here. I should've stayed posted against the police station, drowning in this knock off Justin outfit. What if they would've come back to save me? What if that was the plan? Why, oh why, did Kendall save me instead?

  His voice breaks the silence followed by an object hitting the counter top. “Ask.”

  Nervously I look up. “Ask what?”

  His attention doesn't rise from whatever he placed on the counter. “The question that's clearly painted on your face.”

  “Why'd you rescue me?”

  Kendall grabs a butcher knife, gives whatever he took out a good whack, before looking at me. “Can't you just be thankful I rescued you?”

  How can one person be so warm yet so cold at the same time? Say things in a way that makes you feel they care, but don't matter anymore than a child's paintbrush after art time.

  My hands fiddle with the zipper on his leather jacket. “I mean I can. I am. Believe me, I really am! I can't thank you enough! What you did back there, how you didn't just leave me out in the cold like my so called friends. How you gave me your jacket...” I push my shoulder forward like he needs proof I'm still wearing it. “I'm so grateful.”

  With a nod he grunts, “Good.”

  “But I'm just curious as to why?”

  “Don't you think curiosity has probably gotten you in enough trouble Lost Boy?”

  Hearing the words and the term make me scrunch my face. Slightly in anger. Slightly in shame. “I have a name you know.”

  His face pans upward, his actions frozen. “I'm aware.” The intimidating look pushes my face back down to my heels. “And it's beautiful.”

  I look back up and breathlessly reply, “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome.” Kendall returns to chopping, though now his chops sound less like hacks and more like precision. His shoulders have seemed to lose a bit of tension. “You remind me of my brother.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “Two. Kylar-”

  “That's your brother?” I shriek.

  “Yeah.”

  Taken off guard by the new information, I shake my head. “Please tell me it's the other brother.”

  For the first time I can recall he let's out a small laugh. “Don't worry. You're nothing like Kylar. He reminds me of our dad.”

  “Was he in law enforcement too?”

  “He was the law,” the words are drawn out, a haunting following them. “Anyway, I have a younger brother. He's...well young and naïve like you are. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd and sometimes I wish there would've been someone like me there to offer him a way out of the rain and warm place to stay.”

  Finally it hits me. Where I know his face from. Why I recognize him! Why he seems so familiar. “Kody Hook!”

  His head shoots up, the knife's movement ceasing. “How'd you know that...”

  For the first time since we met, I don't feel frightened, but heartbroken. The look in his green eyes says more than I know he will. They aren't twinkling. They're somber. They have a distinct grieving to them. The kind you get when someone you once lost but never got over gets brought up. When your past gets dragged to your present against it's will. I'm starting to wonder if I have that look.

  I stumble over my words. “I met him.”

  “Where?”

  “I―”

  “When?”

  “I―”

  “Did he look like he was struggling? Did he look sick?” The knife flops onto the counter as he rounds his way out of the kitchen steadily coming for me. “What about his size? Did he look like he was starving? Is he okay? I mean, he was alive right?” I press my lips together not saying more which irks him, something that really doesn't require much effort. “Well? Why aren't you talking?”

  With a shoulder shrug I state, “I was just waiting my turn to speak.”

  Realizing he has now turned into the babbling idiot, he covers his mouth for a minute, and let's out a deep hearty laugh, one I'm guessing he hasn't had in quite a while. Kendall licks his lips and tilts his head with a smile. “Would you come in already?”

  My body prepares to tense back up, which is when he softly adds, “Please?”

  Kendall lingers for a minute before retreating back into the kitchen. I slide off my wet shoes, take a long deep breath, and then make my way to him. The second I enter the kitchen, I'm startled by the sight of the green meat he's chopping. Other than rotten meat, I'm not sure what kind would be green. My stomach threatens to expel everything I've eaten in the last twenty four hours. Why can't I even remember what that was?

  “What is that?”

  “Croc'.” Not allowing for follow up question, he quickly asks, “When'd you get in contact with Kody?”

  “Today. At least I think it was today. I don't understand the concept of time between here and anywhere else really. But, before we got here, as in here to Neverland, not before we got here like your apartment.”

  Kendall tosses his head behind him. “Will you grab me a skillet from the cabinet beside the fridge?”

  Sliding behind him, our bodies briefly graze, the tingle of energy grabbing a small gasp from me. I lean down and pull out the skillet I hope he's referring to. Placing it on the stove I offer, “Do you need my help for anything else?”

  “Ye
ah, could you grab the chopped green onions and denayo from the fridge and put them in the pan?”

  I open the fridge where I immediately spot the green onions, but have no idea what the other thing is. “What is-”

  “Container with the red lid.”

  Seeing what he described, I reach for it as well and place them both on the counter. “How much?”

  “Half of each.”

  I turn around behind me to the sink beside where the green chunks once were but are now fine strips. After a quick wash and dry of my hands, I return to my given task. Carefully I place half of each in the pan. Before I can ask any more questions, Kendall is beside me adding the fresh chopped meat. I prepare to move out of the way when he glides his hips behind me, pulling open the drawer on the other side of me. I freeze. Holy crap he's close. I wanna move out of his way. I wanna say something. Anything! Instead I look over my shoulder where Kendall's face is now dangerously close to mine. Suddenly I feel his other hand close to my hip, thumb accidentally touching me.

  He studies me for a moment. The entire time his green eyes are plastered on me, I don't feel I can move an inch. In a soft voice he sighs, “Thanks.”

  Swallowing the nervousness I respond, “Yeah.”

  Kendall moves his body over, giving me space to breathe, more importantly to retreat which I do backwards to the counter space behind him. “What are you making?”

  “Croc tacos.” I try not to frown my face at the thought alone. That's not what goes in tacos last time I checked. Chicken. Beef. Shrimp. Even fish. But crocodile? I continue watching him stir the ingredients. “So where?”

  “Where what?”

  “Where did you meet Kody?”

  “A sand death star of some sort.” I shudder at the memory. “It was awful. Sand was literally coming out of every possible area. I'm pretty sure I've got some stuck in uncomfortable places.”

  “You're going to want to shower,” he suggests glancing over at me, adjusting the fire under the pan. “Too much leads to infections. Often deadly.”

  “Great,” I mutter. Knowing Kendall just wants a few answers about his brother I finish, “Anyway, he's a pirate.”

  “I know.” His movements stop. “But not much else. Was he well?”

  The thought of how toned he was under his shirt comes back in mind. “I'd say he was more than healthy.” Feeling my face flush I try to push past it. “And honestly he was just as nice to me as you are, except he left me in prison and you let me go. Though I think with a little more time he probably would've done the same thing. But, unlike you he seemed really happy and sweet.”

  Instantly I realize how horrible that last line came out. Before I can try to cushion the blow he asks, “And how do I seem?”

  Without a second thought I respond, “Scary.”

  Kendall chuckles again, letting out that joyful sound escape. “You really find me scary?”

  “Terrifying would be a better word.”

  Turning his head all the way around, he leans on the counter across from me. “It's my job to be terrifying.”

  “Well you do it well,” I compliment him as a shiver runs across my body.

  He notices. “You're cold.”

  “A little.”

  “Let's get you changed,” Kendall says before rinsing his hands in his sink.

  When he's finished, he strolls out of the kitchen past me making a left. Unsure if I'm expected to follow or just wait, I tap my barefoot nervously. About a minute after, I finally hear him say something.

  “Do you have to be told to do everything?” the sharp tone in his voice forces me to mock him, thankful he's out of sight.

  I exit the kitchen and head down the hall passing one closed door on the right before arriving in the door way of his bedroom. “You know, in some places it's rude to just invade another person's space without being asked.”

  Kendall is across the room rifling around in a dresser that's stationed under a window. Where did that come from? There were no windows on the outside. “But breaking into places and stealing things is perfectly acceptable to you?”

  Knowing the blow hurt, but that it was definitely deserved, I lean against the door frame, desperate to change the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn't see any windows on the outside-”

  “It's up to each apartment whether to show their windows or not. Simply touch the window to make it visible, touch it again to turn it off to the outside world. Think two way mirror style.” After he answers he hands me a black tank top and a pair of long basketball shorts. “Dry clothes. Change. I'll see you in the other room for dinner.”

  The clothes go from his grip to mine and then he's gone. Coming all the way into his room, I gently shut the door behind me. To no surprise his room is not much different than the rest of the apartment. The walls are the same color but completely bare. The marble dresser matches the two other tables in the house but is covered with boy junk. On the wall to the right of me is a pair of mattresses stacked with no bed frame. The sheets are a deep blue color and the bed is covered in several pillows. It's look comfortable. It looks like it would make for a great night’s sleep. I really need one. Too bad I'll end up on the couch. Looking over at the bookshelves built into the wall that are beside his bed, I admire the novels neatly stacked. There's a lamp in each of the corners, but beside the one behind the door is a gray leather chase lounge where I imagine he does his reading. An organized reader. I shouldn't be surprised.

  Quickly I strip out of the damp clothes and place them neatly on the chase lounge along with my hat, so they have a chance to dry out. Uncomfortable in my wet bra and underwear, I remove those too, and slide them underneath the piece of furniture to minimize the possibility of embarrassment. Once I've got on his shirt that fits slightly loose and his shorts that I tie as tight as I can, I head out into the hallway. Taking my time to look at the few select photos that are on the wall in frames, I admire how they are all black and white. The older family photos are of the three Hook brothers tumbling around in the snow, throwing a football, and even smiling their best for a planned picture, no one in them older than thirteen. Oddly there's only photographs of their parents and none of them all together. I bite my bottom lip to resist the urge to question it. To push. I have no room to push. God knows I don't wanna talk about my own family.

  “Dinner,” Kendall calls setting down two plates at the kitchen table.

  Rushing down the remainder of the hall, I sit down at the chair closest to me and grab the napkin he's just placed on the table. I fold it in my lap while watching him bring a bottle of water for me and a beer for him. The glass beer bottle is a dark copper color and the label has a topless mermaid covering her chest with her hands. I slightly smirk. Guess Neverland has their own brand of drinks too. Can't be too shocked by that, huh?

  Kendall sits down across from me, his arms flexing tightly in his shirt causing me to bite on my bottom lip in an attempt not to stare. But I can't help it. Like everything else about him, they're gorgeous. His right sleeve inches a bit up to expose the tail end of a tat wrapped around his hard bicep. Holy crap! The more and more I stare at him, the more I feel like he could easily have walked out of a best-selling romance novel. When Kendall catches me staring, his green eyes flare to the point I swear his gaze burns my skin. It feels like he's touching me even though he's not. It's so exciting and kind of scary. I mean Nick gave me a small warm feeling, but Justin is the only other guy who's ever gotten me completely...smitten? Crap. Am I falling for a Hook?

  Kendall chuckles, “You're staring. Again.”

  I divert my eyes down as my face flushes. If I'm not a babbling idiot, I'm a staring moron. “These look great.”

  His face tilts down at the food. “Enjoy.”

  Admiring the perfected display of food, I'm reminded of the dishes from my favorite fancy restaurant back home. Suddenly it's like they're seated across from me, Mom with a glass of white wine, dad with
red, both with smiles on their faces as the food is delivered. Both thrilled to be enjoying a meal together. As a family. No. Nope. I can't think about them. Not now.

  Shaking away the memory, I look down at the way the two tacos are positioned against each other. There's also a side scoop of what appears to be beans, salsa, and queso. At the view my stomach growls in realization it hasn't been fed in...well...in I don't know how long.

  “How long has it been?”

  The taco gets scooped up in my hand, keeping my attention from meeting his eyes. “Since what?”

  “Since you ate.” His words cause my lips to press together harder. “I can tell a hungry person when I see one.”

  I wrap my mouth around the soft tortilla and take a slow bite, savoring every morsel. I guess somewhere between all the constant fighting, being kidnapped, and stealing there's not a whole lot of time to stop for a snack, but now that I have, I'm grateful. The flavors are exploding all over my tongue and the fact this meat doesn't taste any different than chicken excites me.