He had a point, though. They weren’t making great progress at this rate.
“Gretchen. Gretchen, look at me.”
It was Cooper. He was leaning forward so far in his seat that his forehead was almost pressed against the thick plastic divider that separated them.
“Oh no.” It sounded like Keith was objecting about this to the heavens, even if no one else was listening. “No. I’m going to try to be nicer to you, but no, you can’t be on a first-name basis with us.”
She wouldn’t have been surprised if Cooper had snapped at him, but Cooper appealed to him instead.
“Can’t you see that there’s something wrong with her? She’s your partner. Listen to the way she sounds! She’s confused, spacey—”
“I’m fine,” Gretchen insisted.
Did she sound confused and spacey? Did she feel confused and spacey? It was hard to tell.
“I’m trying to give you some latitude,” Keith said to Cooper, “but you’re crossing so many lines here—”
“I’m crossing lines? Forget about me! Pay attention to your partner, dammit! She’s not okay! Does this seem like Gretchen to you?”
Keith did do a little bit of a double-take towards her then, like he was honestly considering whatever Cooper was saying. Then he shook his head and said dismissively, “You don’t even know her.”
“Apparently I know her better than you do!” Cooper said.
She could feel his intensity, so hot it was almost melting the plastic. He was so vivid. It felt like if she let him, he would burn away all the walls she’d built up inside herself. He would set her free.
But she couldn’t let him. People got hurt when she believed that there was something inside her waiting to be unlocked. She couldn’t risk that happening ever again.
If she turned her head, she could still see the black car sitting in its parking space. Only now...
Now it was more blue. Or more green, maybe.
Maybe it wasn’t even the same car at all.
Except whatever car it was, she knew she was afraid of it.
She pulled all her attention back to the men she was with, the ones who were now arguing over her state of mind like they were ready to tear each other apart over it.
She put one hand on Keith’s shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat, and shook her head at Cooper.
“Guys, I’m fine. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.” She tried to find some sort of explanation for whatever had happened to her, and to her relief, she came up with something that seemed to have the ring of truth even to her. “I saw that there was another car idling in the parking lot, and I had a bad feeling about it, which is ridiculous. I went over and asked the driver a few questions, that’s all. And it was completely fine.”
Keith straightened his tie. “Like I said.”
Cooper glared at the back of Keith’s head and then looked at Gretchen, his eyes softer and more searching. “Are you sure?”
She had never been less sure of something in her life.
But all her old insecurities were up and raring now, reminding her—with a throb of the scar on her shoulder—that her feelings weren’t the most reliable things in the world. And lingering on the issue of the black car only made those feelings of fear and embarrassment stronger, which meant she was better off staying away from it. They were all better off.
She said, “I’m sure,” and the lie sounded good even to her.
It ought to. She’d had a lot of practice lying about things being fine.
6
The radio had started picking up a lot of static.
One song ended, and before the next one could start, there was a short burst of white noise. Then the DJ’s voice came in, mid-sentence: