Anne Brown - Lies Beneath

I knew I could never chance a reinvigoration with her. The likelihood of it working was next to nothing. Maybe I could practice on someone else first, just to see … but I had to stop that idea, too. While it might have made sense to me not so long ago, Lily had changed my way of thinking. How could I play Russian roulette with someone else’s Lily?

I couldn’t shake the fantasy completely. The idea of the two of us living together naturally, without any pretext, was tantalizing. I would have to push it far away before it could become too firmly rooted in my brain. Recklessness wouldn’t do anyone any good. I was already walking a tightrope, balancing precariously between meeting Lily’s needs and satisfying my sisters’.

I must have glazed over as these thoughts were tripping through my mind. Pavati was snapping her fingers in front of my eyes.

“Hey, Calder,” Maris said. “Earth to asshole. How are you going to work out the fishing trip with Hancock?” Maris was bent over at the waist, yelling down into my face.

“Hancock is going to teach some kind of nature course at the college,” I said. “I’ll ask him to take me out on the lake. He doesn’t fish, but it could just be a boat ride. A little nature lesson or something.”

The girls now sat in satisfied silence. Pavati elbowed me and said, “So, what are you going to wear to dinner?”

Pavati parked our car at the far end of the JCPenney parking lot. Tallulah and I got out of the backseat, and Pavati tossed the keys over the roof of the car to me. I snagged them out of the air and pocketed them in my cargo shorts, which—now that I looked at them—had seen better days. The tip of one of the keys hung through a hole in the pocket.

“I think you’re right about the clothes, Pav. It might be time to burn these.”

She rounded the car and mock-appraised my T-shirt-and-shorts look as if she hadn’t given it much thought before.

“Don’t worry. When we’re through with you, you’ll look like a proper boyfriend.”

Tallulah winced. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. There’s too many people here. It gives me the creeps.”

I knew what she meant. The emotional tenor of each person blended with the next. Bring on a crowd, and there was a cacophony of sentiments and passions that created a constant buzzing and distortion of muddled colors. We’d all have decent headaches if we stayed more than fifteen minutes.

Pavati entered the store ahead of me and Lu, and I dropped my Ray-Bans over my eyes to fend off the glare. A group of shaggy-haired white boys in baggy pants and NBA jerseys backed up to give us a wide berth.

“Maybe you should ask them who their stylist is,” Pavati whispered.

“Ugh,” Tallulah said, slinging a bag over her shoulder. “Could you please stop kidding around? Where’s the men’s department?”

“There,” Pavati said, pointing to the back of the store. “I’m thinking something classic. Maybe a simple oxford shirt, definitely new khakis. Your old ones smell like kelp, and the cuffs are all worn.”

“Aw, Pavati, I had no idea you were paying attention.”

We navigated between carousels crowded with children’s rompers, junior fashions, then ladies’ dresses. We passed a shoe display, and I grabbed a box of Sperry Top-Siders as Pavati pulled me toward the back. Shoes , I thought. I hadn’t given any thought to new shoes. It didn’t look like the girls had, either. I was glad I spotted them. Proper boyfriends probably didn’t show up at the door barefoot.

Tallulah walked over to a display of shirts, all folded and pinned into tightly bound packages arranged by size and color. She didn’t waste any time being particular. She yanked a medium in green off the shelf and slapped the package against my chest. “Here. That’ll go with your eyes.”

I grabbed the shirt before she let go. “Something bothering you, Lu?”

Her mouth twisted up to one side. She was just about to say something when a store clerk approached us.

“Can I help you find something?” the woman asked. She was wearing a name badge that declared her name was Jo-Ellen. She fingered nervously at her frosted hair as Pavati took a menacing step toward her.

“Actually, you can, Jo-Ellen. I was hoping to find a new dress for a cocktail party I’m attending next weekend. Something in pink, perhaps?”

Pavati held her gaze as the woman flushed and said, “Certainly, certainly. This way.” Pavati wiggled her eyebrows at us before she followed Jo-Ellen.

Tallulah slipped my new shirt into her bag with the agility of a sleight-of-hand magician, then she pulled at my elbow. “Pants are over here.”

I grabbed Tallulah by the shoulder and whipped her around. Her normally placid expression faltered, and the fluorescent lights reflected off her wet eyes. “What’s wrong?” I demanded.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She faked a smile. “I’m getting a headache. That’s all. Let’s hurry this up, okay?”

I released my grip and watched her walk away. She stopped beside a carousel of men’s dress pants and flipped through them all, making a scraping sound with the swipe of each hanger on the metal rod. “Too dark, too pleated, too old man–ish …” I had my back turned to her selection process, keeping watch. I didn’t really have an eye for fashion. I was better suited as a lookout.

She pushed me into a dressing room with a pair of black pants. A few seconds later I tossed my shorts and the shoe box over the door at her. When I came out of the dressing room, she’d already stashed my discards somewhere for some unsuspecting clerk to find.

I held my arms out and waited for her opinion. She swirled her finger in a circle, and I turned around to model the pants.

“Nice legs,” she said, ripping off the tags.

“Shut up, Lulah.” I finished my last rotation and caught a glimpse of her dragging the back of her hand across the corner of her eye.

Pavati came up fast. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Jo-Ellen was trailing far behind. “I’m so sorry we have no Versace, Ms. Vanderbilt.”

“Vanderbilt?” I asked.

Pavati winked, and we walked quickly toward the front of the store. The girls rubbed their hands together in a circular motion as we closed in on the doors. I snagged a pair of shorts off the rack and threw them in Tallulah’s bag.

Several curious salesclerks watched us coming, but as we walked through the security gate, the girls pressed their electrified palms to the sensors, scrambling the system. No one stopped us.

When I knocked on the Hancocks’ door at six o’clock, Lily answered, her smile nearly reaching her ears. She’d pulled her hair back into a loose knot and covered her body in a high-necked lace blouse and a long black corduroy skirt. I missed all the skin and her pink glow from the day before. Tonight she was nervous.

Behind her, the house shone with wax and polish. A lightly stained pine plank floor replaced the old carpet and linoleum. Mrs. Hancock’s paintings hung on the walls. The windows reflected the light from a dozen candles. Lily noticed my new appearance, and her eyebrows rose in amusement.

“Shut up,” I whispered. “It’s called dinner with the parents.”

“No. You look good. Very … normal.”

“Perfect.” I winked and folded my hand around hers. “That’s exactly the look I was going for.”

She pulled her hand out, and this time I was the one to be surprised.

“Don’t overwhelm them,” she said. “I’ve never brought a boy home for dinner before.”

“It’s not my first time here.”

“This is different. They don’t need to freak out prematurely.”