As You Lay Sleeping
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Kat leaned against the bar, the string of diamond earrings pulling at her earlobes. They were a gift from her mother a few Christmases ago. She pulled them out only for special occasions. If they were mine, I would have locked them in a safe for fear of losing such an expensive present.
She sipped from a martini glass and placed it on the bar, signaling the bartender for another round. He eyed her suspiciously but said nothing when she glared at him.
From working parties at the inn, I knew that look. He wondered if being fired over carding her would be worth her wrath. He made the better choice.
She saw us coming and tossed back the drink and handed the glass to her cousin. I think his name was Brad. I’d met him only once before. His leering expression, aimed at us, made me want to gag.
“I need to get out of here,” Kat said, brushing past us.
We followed her into the hallway. Several people offered her condolences on the way out and she politely greeted them. Kat’s pace picked up, her heels clacking against the marble floor. The three of us struggled to keep up with her.
She turned the corner onto a carpeted floor—my feet silently thanked her—and pushed her way into another room.
Inside was a sitting room with gaudy floral wallpaper. I assumed we were in an older part of the country club. Kat plopped down on a settee and draped her arm over her forehead.
I sat next to her and Rachael and Brittany sat on a smaller loveseat across the room.
“How’re you doing?” I asked.
“How do you think I’m doing?” Kat snapped. She sighed and dropped her arm. “This whole situation is a freakin’ drag. I wish this part would be over.”
“I know,” I said, and gave a look to the other girls to say something to Kat. If a situation didn’t involve heavy partying, they needed to be nudged.
“We should do something fun!” Brittany said. “To take your mind off everything.”
I cringed.
Kat’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My brother is dead, Britt. This isn’t supposed to be fun.”
“I meant—”
“Just stop,” Kat said.
I touched Kat’s shoulder and she jumped up to standing. She crossed the room to the bank of mirrors on the wall. She dug into her clutch and pulled out a small pink tube, then smeared a new coat of gloss over her lips.
I gave the girls a look and both of them stood at the same time and rushed over to Kat. I quickly fell into step.
“I know I’m being a brat.” Kat placed her hands on the counter and looked at us through the mirror. “It’s just tough, you know? Joe may have been an annoying big brother but he was mine.”
“We understand,” Rachael said.
Kat rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand: you’re an only child.”
I sensed another freak-out. Kat always pushed us away when she was upset. It was one of her consistent traits, heightened this time by Joe’s death.
“I have to pee,” I blurted. “Kat?”
Kat grabbed my arm and pulled me into the attached bathroom and closed the door behind us.
I was surprised Rachael and Brittany picked up on the hint and stayed away.
I went into the first stall and sat.
Kat remained outside the stall facing the mirror behind the bank of sinks. “Only children don’t understand.”
A choked sob from Kat made me finish up more quickly.
I came out of the stall and washed my hands and gauged my friend—the ticking time bomb. Kat wasn’t the touchy-feely type, so I didn’t offer a hug. She needed emotional support and I would be there for her. A tiny thrill came over me that she hadn’t snapped at me yet. Having a sister put me on a higher pedestal in Kat’s current state of mind.
“I still don’t get it,” Kat said.
I grabbed several paper towels and dried my hands. “What do you mean?”
She turned to face me. “Joe going over the edge like that. I don’t get it.” I turned to the trash basket, avoiding her eyes. “Why didn’t you do more to stop him?”
I dropped the towels into the trash and slowly turned to face her. “What?”
“Everyone except my clueless parents knew he liked to party. But he’d have no reason to if you were a better girlfriend.”
I blinked a few times. This had to be some sort of joke.
Kat wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were clearer than I’d seen in days. Realization flooded me and a sick feeling pooled in my stomach.
She planned this conversation and I’d given her the perfect opportunity.
“Joe did what he wanted,” I said. “That’s not my fault.”
“You could have stopped him. He listened to you. You might as well have killed him yourself.”
“Kat, that’s—”
“Don’t act so surprised. He told me you’ve been avoiding him while I was away.”
I took a breath. “I needed a break.”
Her lips quirked. “And the truth comes out.”
“What truth?”
“I had a feeling you were only with him to get in good with us.”
“That’s ridiculous I—” I swallowed, unable to finish my sentence. For a second, I felt the same as Brittany and Rachael did several minutes ago with Kat’s cutting glare slicing me at the knees. I wanted to crawl under the sink until the reception was over.
Kat had a similar thought. “I think you should go.”
I didn’t have a response. It wasn’t until she left the room and I heard the door close that I knew I was no longer wanted.
Chapter 7
It had been almost a week since I’d heard from Kat or the other girls. The fireworks had come and gone. I doubted Kat or the girls had attended. It was too soon for any type of celebration after Joe’s untimely death. I hadn’t been contacted by the detective, though I had nightmares that he lived in my house and continued his interrogation of me. I wasn’t sure why I was so freaked out by him. There was something off that I couldn’t put my finger on, though each day without hearing from him made me a little more able to move on from the horrific scene that replayed over and over in my head. Joe had been laid to rest and I’d find some way to repair the friendship with Kat and the girls.
It wasn’t the first time Kat had shut any of us out and encouraged the other two to do the same. Last fall, we closed out Rachael for several days after she spilled her chai latte on Kat’s shoes. Kat got over it, but I suspected this situation was so much worse. She managed to see right through me and I wondered how long she had been waiting to turn the tables on me like that. Taking extra hours at the inn filled my time while I waited for Kat to stop being mad at me.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” some guy drawled from Table 5.
“I’ll be right with you,” I said with a forced smile. I was helping the busboys turn over the tables for the guests while serving coffee refills. The portly customer had already had three refills in the last forty minutes, and the line for tables grew exponentially in that time.
I hoped for a big tip, but I doubted he even noticed his rudeness.
I offered the carafe of coffee to the man. “More coffee?”
“Yes, please.” His thick, white eyebrows rose as his eyes settled on my chest.
I poured his refill and scooted away, hoping he burned his tongue. I normally didn’t mind sharing my time with the serving staff at the inn but I preferred the more solitary tasks where the tourists didn’t stare down my shirt.
I scanned the room and no one needed coffee for the moment. I hid behind the partition where the coffee and other drinks were prepared and buttoned my white shirt all the way to the top before checking my phone. All of my texts to Kat, Brittany and Rachael were unanswered. Even the group conversation I started with them.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket just as Dad entered the dining room. I busied myself with making another pot of coffee. He never played favorites, especially with me, and being on the phone at work was discouraged.
“How’s it going, Carebear?” he asked in a chipper voice. It was his “work” voice. He was a nice man outside of work but he was extra peppy to the employees, and apparently that meant me, too.
I cringed at the nickname. “Dad,” I mumbled. “Not here, okay?”
His smile didn’t falter. “Sorry.”
“What’s up?” I asked. Dad rarely left the front of the inn, oscillating between the check-in desk and his office.
“I spoke with Trudy this morning.”
“Mrs. Talbot? How is she?” Trudy Talbot—a four-time widow—had bought the inn five years ago with the money all of her rich husbands left. She had the building renovated and expanded the blueprint to include more rooms, a full bar and restaurant, and banquet hall. The inn now resembled a five-star hotel, but she kept the “inn” as part of the name for those who were long-time customers. She had a knack for details and insisted on a personal relationship with upper management, especially my dad.
“She’s in France this summer.” The relief on his face shone through. “I told her how well you were doing in this ‘floater’ position and, with the summer being our busiest season, she insisted that I hire at least one other person to help out.”
I slid him a glance. “As long as you don’t cut my hours.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’d never dream of it.”
“Good.” I had my eye set on a few used cars and I couldn’t afford the pay cut.
“Would any of your friends be interested?”
My finger paused over the brew button on the coffee maker. “In working?”
“Yes.”
Other than the fact they weren’t speaking to me, the idea of working at all, never mind during the summer, would be another nail in my coffin. “No.”
“Oh. Okay, then. I’ll put an ad out.”
He stood there for a moment and I looked up at him.
“Is there anything else?” I asked.
He took a breath before speaking. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Dad.” My parents had asked me that question numerous times a day since the funeral. I alternated between “fine” and “okay,” wishing they would get the hint.
“You haven’t been hanging out with your friends lately.”
He was observant. One of Dad’s best qualities was his ability to ignore the social obligations of his daughter. I knew Mom had something to do with this. Sometimes her obsession with my life bordered on stalking. She meant well, but I never understood why she didn’t obsess over Madison’s life like she did mine.
“Kat’s grieving,” I said, shrugging off his line of questioning. “I need to get back to work.”
He nodded and said goodbye.
When he was out of sight, I checked my phone again and stared at the empty screen for a few moments before shoving it and all thoughts of Kat out of my head.
That afternoon, I walked down the boardwalk that stretched the length of the beach. Innumerable tourists with their vibrantly colored blankets and giant umbrellas peppered the sand.
I avoided a near-collision with a fast-moving volleyball that someone spiked a little too hard. Two shirtless guys came bounding by, their bare feet stomping across the wood.
Skinny seagulls cried as they nose-dived for dropped food near the vendors. In a few weeks, they would be waddling across the beach, picking up scraps to fill their newly rotund stomachs.
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