Fake (7 page)

“No problem.” His fingers began gently kneading her muscles. “I bet you're sore all over, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” she agreed, leaning backward and surrendering into his soothing touch.

“I know just the thing.” He gave her muscles one final prod with his thumbs and moved around to face her. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the back rooms. “I'm giving you a bath.”

Opposite of Smart

“THIS WILL BE THE BEST THING
for you.” Skyler sat on the edge of his tub, shouting over the running water. “I always take one of these after a workout.”

“Uh-huh?” Gaia said, fiddling as long as she could with her watch clasp. Finally she felt it was too obvious she was stalling. She slid it off her wrist and placed it on the counter.

Okay, she could easily convince herself that taking off her shirt was not a big deal. But completely undressing?
That
was a big deal. Yet for some reason, she didn't want to offend him by letting him see how uncomfortable she was. After all, he was only trying to take care of her. And he'd done nothing to make her distrust him.

As casually as she could manage, Gaia unbuttoned the front of her Levi's and pulled them down over her hips.

“You're going to love this,” Skyler was saying, pouring a variety of oils into the tub. “You're being treated to the best Rodke-Simon bath products on the market”

“Really?” Gaia tried to sound casual as she yanked off her jeans, folded them neatly, and set them on the white tile counter.

“This one has lavender and juniper berries, which will help you heal,” he said, holding up a small glass bottle before pouring in a thick teaspoonful. A glistening green oil slick formed on the surface of the water.

“Uh-huh. Good.” She carefully pulled her sock off her left foot and folded it, too.

“And this one has sage, which is great for sore muscles.”

“Right. Great.” She couldn't put it off any longer.
Just do it,
she told herself.
It's only Skyler, for chrissake. Quit being such a prude.

Gaia reached back, unhooked her bra, and quickly pulled it off.
Okay. That wasn't so bad,
she told herself as she placed it on the rest of her clothes. She took a quick peek toward Skyler. He was busy adding a salty substance to the bathwater. Now for the big finish. She took a deep breath of air and courage and slid off her underwear.
There,
she thought, adding it to the teetering clothing pile. She'd done it. She was now completely naked. Totally exposed. Body parts on parade.

But so what?
she asked herself. What was the big deal? Naked wasn't bad. It was natural. It was freeing. It was—

“You ready?”

Eep.
Gaia jumped slightly. She turned and faced Skyler, who was now looking right at her. At her eyes. Thank God, he was looking into her eyes. But what was he thinking? She searched his gaze for any flickers of amusement or disgust but found nothing. But then, what did she know? Ever since she had gained fear, it had been that much tougher to read people. She found she couldn't quite separate what was clearly there from what she
feared
might be there.

Gaia fought off the urge to cover herself with her arms, then wondered what else to do with them. She had no pockets or belt loops or anywhere else to place
her hands. How did one strike a natural pose while in the buff?

Skyler smiled and gestured toward the bathtub. “Go ahead. Get in before it gets cold.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said quickly. As casually as she could, she walked past him and stepped over the side of the tub, settling into the steamy bath. Skyler hadn't been exaggerating about the strength of the bath products. It was like being dunked in a giant cup of tea.

She stretched out her legs and leaned her head back against the side of the tub. Soon she could feel her muscles become warm and loose. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a long, relaxing bath. The boardinghouse had only showers, and hot water was controlled like war rations. And even if she could have bathed, Gaia typically chose not to, preferring quick, no-nonsense showers. She never was very good to herself.

Ahhh.
She closed her eyes and inhaled the pungent vapors.

“How does it feel?” Skyler asked from where he sat at the foot of the tub.

“Fantastic.”

“Told you.”

She was just wondering why Skyler was still there when she suddenly felt his hands on her shoulders. She jerked in surprise.

“Shhh.
Relax,” he murmured, his fingers kneading her sore muscles. His strong fingers raked down her back, smoothing out kinks and cramps.

Stop the freaking,
she told herself.
Skyler probably doesn't even care that you're totally nude. He's just helping you feel better—like a doctor or masseur. Nudity comes with the job.

His hands were now traveling down her arms, smoothing out her triceps, her biceps, everything in between. He was right. It was helping—majorly. She moaned in pleasure, giving in to the sensations. She didn't even mind when his left fingertips accidentally brushed the side of her breast.

It felt like Skyler was literally, physically
fixing
her, remolding her into a better version of herself. She could practically hear the old theme from
The Six Million Dollar Man
start up in the distance.
We can rebuild her. We can make her better than she was before. Better . . . stronger . . . less annoying . . . da, da, da DAH!

“Does it hurt here?” Skyler murmured into her ear. He'd moved up to her neck, massaging the skin with firm, circular patterns.

“Mmm. Yeah. A little,” she said, her head bobbing from the movement. “Probably from when that big guy grabbed me from behind.”

There was a long pause and then Skyler spoke again, his tone slightly halting as if he were carefully inspecting each word before using it. “Um, Gaia?
Don't take this the wrong way, but . . . do you purposefully get drawn into fights?”

“No,” she replied, swishing her hands back and forth in the water to create waves. “They just seem to find me.”

“But why give in? Why not take off for safety? Wouldn't that be the smart thing to do?”

Gaia stared down at the bruises on her knuckles.
Sometimes I do run, Skyler.
She remembered taking off from the park that time, leaving Jake to deal with all those IV heads himself. And the other time she'd run away—when Ed ended up getting stabbed. That had been the opposite of smart. That had been the most selfish, stupid thing she'd ever done.

“I just try to help,” she said, rather lamely. “That's all.”

“Do you”—again he paused cautiously—“do you think it's fun?”

“No!”

“Never? You don't get the slightest bit of satisfaction out of it?”

“Well . . . yeah. I mean, sometimes they deserve it. Jake says—”

“
Jake?
Your boyfriend? He knows you do this?”

“Y-Yeah,” she replied, sensing she'd made some mistake.

“And he's okay with this?”

“Yeah. Sometimes he even helps me out. He's also a black belt and—”

“Wait. Wait a minute,” Skyler interrupted. “You mean you and he go out and take on bad guys like some sort of crime-fighting duo? Does he put you up to this?”

“No!” Gaia's body seemed to be tensing all over again. “He doesn't have to do it at all. He just likes helping me—”

“What? He
likes
it?” Skyler's strong, warm hands left her back. She felt suddenly cold and exposed.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .” Gaia sighed. She had a sudden urge to sink below the waterline and disappear. “He's just looking out for me is all.”

“Fine. Whatever.” The disappointment in Skyler's voice was making her feel guilty. “Look, I don't mean to pry. I just think that . . . if he was really looking out for you, he'd try to stop you from getting into those situations.”

Gaia hugged her knees to her chest, unsure of what to say. There was no way she could make Skyler understand without opening the giant Pandora's box that was her life story. No way to convince him that Jake wasn't some crazy thrill seeker.

She knew how it sounded to him, but he couldn't be more wrong about Jake. He wasn't this nutcase who fancied himself her loyal sidekick. He was her rock, her confidant, her understanding boyfriend. Maybe he was a bit too caught up in the intrigue of her life, but he still cared for her. He only wanted what was best for her.

Right?

“Take
care!”

What nitwit starting using that phrase as a fond farewell?
Take care?
Take care of what? My teeth? My cuticles? A pet gerbil? Of course, a sane person would probably point out that these well-wishers simply want me to look out for myself in general. But even then, why? What the hell do they know that I don't? “There will be loads of anvils falling onto Twelfth Street tomorrow. . . . Take care!” I mean, how freaking demanding. Why are they ordering me to take care of my own self? If it's social politeness they're after, wouldn't it be nicer for
them
to offer to take care of
me?

Right. Like that would happen. People would probably consider a wild sewer alligator more in need of concern. “Good ol' tough freak-of-nature Gaia. Don't bother looking after her. She can fight.”

Yeah? So?
I'm so sick of everyone–including my dad and Jake-assuming that just because I
can kick cinder blocks into rubble, I must be a paragon of self-sufficiency. That my black belt in karate and my standoffish personality mean I don't need anyone, ever.

Um . . . hello? Let's riddle this one together, shall we? The fact that I can fight means I tend to end up in fights, which means (now bear with me here) that I'm more likely to end up hurt/in trouble/possibly needing help. Got me? And my tendency, at least in the past, to shoo away the social butterflies? Well, that's just textbook defense strategy, isn't it? We loner misfits who act all tough are really just soggy marshmallows on the inside. We may snarl, “Get lost!” but what we're really saying is, “Love me, hold me, be my best friend.”

Maybe I never really felt these insecurities when I was fearless, but they were there. And now that I can sense them, it's not this small shadow being
cast on my self-image. It's more like . . . Freddy Krueger massaging my intestines. It hits me so hard, it hurts.

The real fact is, I need someone. I always did. In a way, getting the fear gene was like yanking off a heavy, blinding helmet, allowing me to see how insane the world really is and how alone I really am. It's scary. I mean, I'm only seventeen. Why should I be made to look after myself? It isn't fair.

Lately, in my darkest moments, when I can feel the evil and despair crushing in from all directions, I've fantasized about being locked up somewhere–someplace where I'd be safe, where others would have to look after me at all times. I've even envied those people stuck in institutions. Yes, it's true. Me, Gaia, supposed Queen of all Miss Independents, actually dreamed of a rubber-room existence. It just seemed so nice and simple. People bringing me meals, changing my
bed, always talking in those hushed kindergarten teacher voices. I wouldn't have to go anywhere or do anything but watch
7th Heaven
reruns and make lanyards.

But maybe I don't need to go quite that far. Maybe all I need is someone willing to look after me. Someone who sees that I'm not all that together–despite all the kicking and punching skills–and could use a little guidance.

And right now I'm thinking that someone could be Skyler.

He needed to grab the city by the scruff of the neck and shake Gaia out of it.

Wonderful World of Rodke

“YES, THAT'S RIGHT. RODKE
.
R-o-d-k-e.
” Jake paced around the sidewalk, holding his cell phone to one ear and covering the other with his hand. “My name is Gerald Rodke and I'm trying to locate my cousin, Skyler Rodke, who's a student there. My dad, his uncle . . . uh . . . Fester, is in the hospital. It's really bad. His last wish is to see his nephew, but we don't have Skyler's current address or phone number. Couldn't you maybe—?”

“I'm sorry,” the university operator replied through her nostrils, “but we cannot give out students' personal information.”

“I know. I know. It's for security and all. You need to protect them from all the crazies out there. But see, I'm his
family.
This is a family emergency. A matter of life and death.”

“I'm sorry.” Jake hated the way she kept saying that without really meaning it.

“All right,” he said, exhaling heavily. “I'm going to level with you. I'm not really his cousin.” There was a silence on the other end of the line. Finally he'd gotten her to really listen. “My name is Agent Montone and I'm with the CIA. I need to speak with Skyler Rodke about a highly classified subject—”

Jake heard a series of clicks followed by the low mournful pitch of the dial tone.

Okay, so he really hadn't expected that to work, but
come on!
Why couldn't he get a break? He needed some sort of lead. A tip-off from one of Skyler's friends. A phone call from Gaia. A neon billboard that flashed “This way to Skyler's.” Hell, he'd settle for someone telling him which freaking direction to walk in.

The day was already half over, but when he last called Gaia's boardinghouse, Suko had said she still wasn't home. It occurred to him that she might be lying for Gaia, but that didn't seem her style.

He had the distinct feeling that time was running out. Something awful was happening to Gaia, but he didn't know what. Or where, when, how, or why.