The Thief

by Kate McCarthy

  “Are?”

  Her eyebrows waggle suggestively.

  “Oh. Oh!” My laugh is a little nervous because my heart is doing a few flips while I think about what Kelly and I are. “We’re seeing each other.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful!” Grace picks up the kettle and flicks on the tap, starting to fill it. “Kelly doesn’t really uh … see girls. Much.” She turns off the tap. “Or at all,” she mutters to herself, but I still manage to hear it. When the task of the kettle is complete and it sits there to boil, Grace turns and leans against the counter behind her, folding her arms. “So, I’ll get straight to the point. I need a favour.”

  “You …” My eyebrows fly up. We don’t even know each other. Just ten minutes earlier, Grace was some dreamlike creature that featured in magazines, someone I would never know. And now she’s here, in Rehab, asking me for a favour. Don’t get me wrong, Grace seems really cool, the kind of friend I’d probably love to have, and of course I would do her a favour … it’s just so very surreal.

  Her bottom lip pokes out a little. “Please?”

  “I … sure. Of course.”

  She sags a little, as if my response has relieved her greatly. Just how big is this favour? I scrape a chair back from the table and take a seat. Grace follows suit, taking a seat opposite me. The lunch bag rests between us. Burgers from Mary’s. They’re double-wrapped. First in foil then in paper, so hopefully they’re still warm.

  Her eyes drop to the bundle of food and the logo brandished across the front. “Those are burgers from Mary’s,” she says.

  “Yes. Mary’s are the—”

  “Best,” she finishes and presses a hand to her flat belly. “I have a dress fitting. Not to mention a wedding in two weeks.” Her eyes slide to the lunch bag with longing. “I can’t eat burgers.”

  I shrug. “I can share?”

  “You would share your Mary’s burger with me?”

  “Of course. I don’t mind.”

  “Mac and Evie would never share,” she mutters beneath her breath.

  “Sorry, who?”

  “My girls,” she says. “The ones waiting for me at my dress fitting. They’re probably all starving because they’re worried about looking good in their bridesmaid dresses.”

  On that note, Grace gets up and opens a kitchen cupboard. She takes out two plates. I rise to help, taking one of the burgers from the bag and unwrapping it on the counter. I pass it across to her. She sets it on the plate and cuts it in half. Then she pauses, taking a deep sniff. “Oh god, it’s like crack, right?”

  I laugh and we take our plates back to the table. “I should probably get Kelly.”

  “In a minute?” she pleads, sitting down. So I sit too. “I just want to ask you this favour first.”

  “Okay.”

  Grace takes a huge bite of our shared lunch and chews hurriedly, her eyes unfocused with pleasure. “So good,” she mutters around her mouthful. Swallowing, she looks at me. “So … IneedyoutogetKellytocometoourweddingforme.”

  “Sorry?” I lean forward in order to hear her better, though hearing isn’t the problem. It’s her rushed jumble of words.

  Grace takes another bite. Chews. Swallows. This time she slows it down. “I need you to get Kelly to come to our wedding for me. Well … for Casey.”

  “Wait …” My brows pull together. “Kelly isn’t coming to your wedding?” I knew they were estranged, but I didn’t realise just how much. Not going to your brother’s wedding is a big deal. It speaks of a huge rift, a gaping wound between two brothers that has never healed.

  “What the hell?” The words are an angered growl spoken from the kitchen entrance behind me. “What is going on in here?”

  I half turn in my chair. Kelly’s wearing full mechanic’s overalls, except he’s removed the top half and left it dangling around his waist. A fitted white shirt covers his chest, and he’s wiping at his hands with a grease rag, a thunderous expression on his face.

  “Crap,” Grace mutters. “He wasn’t meant to hear that.”

  Kelly’s eyes shift between both of us, landing on Grace. “I see you’ve met Arcadia.”

  She lifts her chin. “I have. And she’s lovely. I didn’t know you were … seeing anyone.”

  “You know now.” He walks into the kitchen, tossing his rag to the counter before turning around to lean against it, folding his arms. “So your plan is to recruit her to your cause? Because I’m not going to your wedding.”

  Her lips purse as if this is a battle she’s been fighting with him for a long time. She turns her attention on me. “Ace, would you like to come to my wedding?”

  My brows fly up. Grace seems quite happy to be throwing me right in the middle of this.

  “Don’t you dare put her in the middle of this.”

  Grace keeps her attention on me as if he didn’t speak. I clear my throat. “Well … Ordinarily I would love to champion your cause, but…” my eyes flick to Kelly then back to Grace “…I don’t know why they’re estranged. I’m sure Kelly has a good reason, right, Kelly?” I look back to him, shifting uncomfortably in my chair.

  This is not how I imagined our mini date going. I was hoping there might be a quickie involved upstairs, followed by a hurriedly eaten lunch before he got back to work and I headed back to the library.

  Another guy pokes his head in the door, and I’m struck dumb. “What’s going on?” he asks, flicking a glance at his watch before looking at Grace. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your dress fitting?”

  “I’m leaving soon,” she tells him.

  “Hey,” the guy says to me, as if he just noticed I was in the room. He walks in a little and leans toward me, holding out a hand. “I’m Casey.”

  “I know.” And that sounds strange because we haven’t met, but Casey and Kelly look so much alike that it’s impossible for me to not know who he is. From the same hair colour and flirty blue eyes to their height and presence. Casey’s hair is kept short in back and the sides and a little longer and mussed on the top. He’s a little trimmer where Kelly has more bulk, and he’s clean shaven, but their resemblance is eerie. I take his hand, shaking it before letting go. “I mean …” My brow furrows. “Are you twins?” Because Kelly mentioned he was older, but that could mean years or just mere minutes.

  “We’re not twins,” Kelly answers before Casey can. “Grace can I talk to you for a minute?” His tone is icy. “Outside?”

  Casey’s expression begins to harden, and I shiver at the similarity. “What for?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Grace is my business.”

  “Grace is her own person,” Grace says loudly. “And can not only speak for herself, she can actually do what she likes.”

  She stands and they both leave the room. It leaves just me and Casey, and because I don’t know what caused their divide, it makes me wildly uncomfortable. He walks to the counter as if my presence doesn’t bother him and flicks the button to boil the kettle that Grace had just boiled and abandoned earlier.

  Once that’s done, he gets out a mug and half turns. “Coffee?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  He nods and goes back to making one while he talks. “You’re dropping off a car? I saw you arrive in that Ford. Seriously cool car. I’d love to take her out, see how she handles.”

  “No, I’m not dropping off a car. The Ford isn’t actually mine. I just borrow it sometimes. I’m here to see Kelly.”

  Casey pauses his stirring and turns, looking at me again as if seeing me for the first time. After studying me for a long moment, he cocks his head. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Arcadia.”

  “Arcadia …” he prompts.

  “Jones.”

  He nods slowly. “You’re friends with my brother?”

  “I am.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Ah … not long.”

  “Enough with the inquisition,” Kelly barks, re-entering the k
itchen. Alone.

  “Where’s Grace?”

  “She left in that goddamn little electric car.”

  I agree with the sentiment in his tone. “She’s saving the environment at least,” I offer. “But still, it’s not safe. She’ll be the one coming out worse off if she’s ever in an accident.” I’m warming up to one of my favourite subjects—cars—so I can’t seem to stop the verbal diarrhoea. “That’s why the old vintage cars are so good. They’re built like tanks.”

  Casey’s brows rise slowly as I speak, his head nodding. “I like this girl. Maybe you can talk some sense into Grace.”

  Kelly doesn’t even acknowledge that his brother spoke. He walks to the table, collects my plate and the bag, and says, “Let’s go eat upstairs.”

  I want to tell Casey it was nice to meet him, but the whole situation is awkward. Based on my surface-value opinion, he’s really nice, a lot like Kelly, but a little more refined, I guess. I much prefer the rougher edges.

  I follow behind Kelly until we reach the upper level. He dumps our lunch on the small table beside the bed. Then he turns and grabs me by the hips. He pulls me close and ducks his head, kissing me. There’s no passion. He kisses me hard, as though using me to forget something.

  My chest tightens with unease. I press my hands to his chest and push him back a fraction. “Is everything okay? Did you want to eat lunch?”

  “Everything’s fine, babe. I don’t want to eat lunch. I just want to eat you.”

  He goes to kiss me again, and I draw back. “How long have you and Casey been estranged?”

  Kelly’s jaw tightens. He lets me go, taking all the warmth with him. I hug my middle as he grabs the lunch package and seats himself sideways on the edge of the bed, busying himself with unwrapping it. I’m starting to wonder if I’m now getting the silent treatment from him too when he finally speaks. “Since I was fifteen.”

  My body stiffens. I wasn’t expecting that answer. Kelly was just a boy. He’s twenty-eight now, so I do the simple calculation. “That’s thirteen years.”

  “I know that, Ace.”

  * * *

  Kelly

  Ace walks to the bed and climbs on, seating herself cross-legged and facing me. She looks cute today in her skinny blue jeans and pale pink tee shirt. Aviator glasses are tucked into the neckline and her hair is tied in two long braids. I know she’s classified as a mature-age student, but she looks like she belongs. More so than the office-type attire she sometimes gets around in—though she seems to be wearing those outfits less and less. It’s as if she were trying to fit into the finance world and is slowly realising she doesn’t need to change herself in order to do that.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks me.

  Do I want to talk about how my mother died? Or how I shot my father in the head and watched his blood spray over the wall and sheets? And how it would never have happened if Casey had just sent for us like he promised? No. Though, I like how she asks rather than demands. Her eyes are dark with concern, and maybe a little turbulent, as if she’s ready to unleash a shit storm all over my brother if I just say the word. I almost chuckle. She appears so petite and calm, but I’ve seen her wild side. It would be entertaining to watch her go toe to toe with him, but I can fight my own battles.

  “It’s in the past,” I say, taking a bite of my lunch and swallowing.

  “It’s not in the past,” she says quietly. There’s no argument in her tone even though she’s disagreeing with me.

  “It is.” I set my burger back on its wrapper. I wasn’t real hungry anyway. Casey doesn’t work in Rehab often as he has his consulting business to operate, and it’s fulltime. But he comes in every other Friday. It makes for a tense day, and I’m usually left with a headache at the end of it. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Thirteen years ago or three weeks, it doesn’t matter. If it’s still sitting between the two of you like a festering wound, then it’s not in the past.”

  I swipe a hand down my face, scratching at my beard. Ace is right, and I hate that she’s right, because it means the pain is still there despite my best attempts to not acknowledge it. But what am I supposed to do?

  “You can’t fix what’s broken.”

  Her eyes fill and I know she hears the pain in my voice. It’s not an easy thing to hide sometimes, especially with this girl.

  “You can.” Ace drags my lunch across the bed, removing the barrier between us. Then she shifts up on her knees and moves toward me until she straddles my lap. I don’t have any choice except to give her my full attention. “You can fix it, Kelly. It might not go back to what it was before, but it would be better than what you have now, right? Think of it like an engine cut down the middle. You would have to weld it all back together, and replace a few parts here and there, but you’ll get it running again. Maybe not as smooth as it used to be, but it would still work.”

  My nostrils flare. “That would mean forgiveness.”

  “Kelly.” She brushes a hand on my cheek, tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear. “What did he do that needs forgiving?”

  I lift her up and off me, rising to my feet. Familiar anger surges. “I don’t need soothing gestures, Ace,” I snap. “I’m not a fuckin’ cat.”

  Ace mutters something beneath her breath and goes about packing away the lunch I barely ate.

  It’s an insult, I’m sure. “What did you say?”

  “I said,” she enunciates, turning to face me as she bunches the wrapper in her hands, “that I wouldn’t have come today had I known asshole was on today’s lunch menu instead of burgers.”

  Christ. I turn and kick one of the locker doors. It dents slightly and doesn’t make me feel better.

  “Real mature, Kelly.” Her tone is snide enough to make my eyes water.

  “You wanna know what he did?” I shout, my hands fisting at my sides. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes!” Ace shouts back, getting in my face. “Get it out there, god! Because if you don’t, it might start festering between us too, and I don’t want us broken!” Her voice cracks and she lowers it to a raspy whisper. “I don’t want us broken too.”

  We’re shouting at each other and my heart races. I hate this. I hate what this is doing to us.

  “He left.”

  The words hurt like little razor cuts across my skin. My arms hang limp by my side, my body feeling like a wrung-out rag. “He left and when he came back it was too late. Everything was broken.”

  Ace starts toward me, her steps wary like she’s approaching an injured animal. “What was broken?”

  “My mother.” I swallow, my throat raw and heart thumping inside my chest. “Her body was twisted on the floor and there was blood in her hair. Her eyes were blank. Nothin’ in ’em.” The image is torture. I blink it away, knowing it will return again soon enough. “Can’t fix what’s dead, can you, Ace?”

  “What happened?” she asks quietly.

  “My dad. My dad happened.”

  Her step falters. She opens her mouth and then snaps it closed.

  “Didn’t expect that, did you?” I swallow the bitter lump in my throat. “He hit her so hard she smacked her head on the side table in the bedroom. She went down and she never got back up.” I start sucking in air through my teeth, willing myself not to lose it. “He killed her.”

  Ace flinches. She actually flinches. It makes my stomach churn to have her know. I shouldn’t be dumping this on her so bluntly, but it’s not the kind of revelation you can wrap up in a pretty pink bow and hand over to someone.

  “And you were fifteen?”

  I nod.

  “Did he …” She exhales a shaky breath and tries again. “Did he hit you too, Kelly?”

  A heavy beat of silence passes before I nod again, my body stiff, the movement jerky.

  “And Casey?”

  “Yeah,” I say, making myself look at her. Anger is blazing from her eyes.

  “That sonofabitch,” she hisses.

&n
bsp; “Ace—”

  “People like that don’t deserve to live. They don’t deserve to have kids. They don’t deserve to see the sky and the moon and the stars. They don’t—”

  “He’s already dead.”

  “Oh.” She exhales another shaky breath and places a hand to her belly as if she feels sick.

  So do I. My stomach is twisted in knots. And this is why it’s better to never share bad shit like this. I don’t tell her that I shot him dead. I can’t. Not today. Maybe not ever. Whatever this is that Ace and I have, neither of us are ready for that. I walk to the bathroom, grab a glass, and fill it from the sink. After drinking it down, I refill it and bring it to Ace.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs, taking a sip. Her hands are trembling. My abrupt confession has sent her into shock. I shouldn’t have said anything. Everything was fine and now I’ve wrecked it. There’s an awkwardness growing between us that I should have anticipated.

  “You should go home.”

  “No, I—”

  I snatch the glass from her hand and set it down by the bed.

  “Casey left you with him?” Ace shakes her head as if she can’t fathom it. “He just left and never came back?”

  “That’s right. He left. He promised he’d come back for the both of us, but he never did.”

  “That’s a damn lie.”

  We both turn. Casey is standing at the top of the stairs, grease rag in hand and face pale. “I came back.”

  “You came back later than you promised,” I snarl, my eyes hardening, “and by then it was too late. In this instance, it wasn’t a case of better late than never, right?

  “I’ve apologised more times than I can count.” Casey’s lips twist. “You need to accept it and move on because I’m done with it. I’m fucking done.”

  My fists itch to punch him in the face because I never asked for his apology. I don’t want it. And it was a mistake to setup Rehab in a partnership. I can’t work with him. And I can’t do this right now. Not in front of Ace. Not with this bitterness sitting so heavy on my chest I can’t breathe.

  My eyes cut to her. “You need to leave.”