Complementary Colors (27 page)

A cab passed by, and two businessmen got out of their Lexus. The Slaughter House drew in all kinds.

The boy stood in the space between parked cars.

“¿Cómo te llamas?
” He tilted his head and smiled.

“I know this is hard for you,” Roy said. “But I promise Dr. Howell just wants to talk.”

A woman passing by blocked my view for a second. Once out of the way, the boy was gone.

“Please trust me.” Roy ran his thumb down my cheek.

I leaned into the contact. “I do.”

“I know this is scary, but I think it could do some good.”

“Nothing good comes from talking to a shrink.”

“I told you, she’s just a doctor.”

“But she works in the same hospital as a shrink.”

Roy dropped his gaze for a moment. I wanted to feel bad for snapping at him, but I couldn’t get by the winding barbwire of my own fear to care. At least I hadn’t bolted when he suggested talking to Dr. Howell in the first place.

I think I would have if there’d been somewhere else to go.

I took him by the arm. “C’mon, before I lose my courage.”

Roy opened the door, and the jingle of bells sent bloody red streaks into the air. Almost all the tables were full. I followed him to a booth in the back occupied by a woman. Even dressed in a sweater and jeans, Howell radiated her profession.

She stood. “Long time no see, Roy.” They shook hands. “How have you been?”

“Good.”

“You must be Paris.” Dr. Howell greeted me with a manicured hand. I hoped she couldn’t feel me shaking. “Please sit.”

I slid in beside Roy.

“Are you two hungry? Yhey’re still serving breakfast.”

“Paris?”

“No.”

“You didn’t eat anything this morning.”

I picked up the menu. Each item had a cartoon illustration. My stomach rolled. “I guess I’ll have whatever you do.”

Louise came out of the kitchen. She saw us and walked over. “Hey, you two here for breakfast?” Her eyes said something else. Was I alright? Had I talked? And would I tell her what happened?

“Louise, this is my friend Dr. Kim Howell.” Roy tipped his head at Howell.

“You should have told me you knew Roy. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise. Roy has said a lot of good things about your food. I’ve been meaning to get here sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. So, you boys want something to drink?”

“Coffee, please,” Roy said.

“Black?”

“Always.”

Dr. Howell raised her cup. “And I’ll take a refill when you get a chance.”

“Paris?”

“Vodka and orange juice.”

“I’m all out of vodka, but I can get you the orange juice. I’ll bring you boys some silverware when I get back.” Louise patted me on the shoulder, then left.

“I’ve seen your work,” Dr. Howell said. “You’re very talented.”

I picked at the edge of the table.

“You don’t think so?”

“Could we just get to the real reason why we’re here?”

“Okay, I can do that.” Howell ran her thumb over the handle of her cup. “Roy seems to think you might need some help.”

I folded my arms across my stomach. Three men dressed in coveralls got up from the table beside us.

Roy squeezed my thigh.

“Like I told Roy, I can’t be helped.”

“You sound so sure.”

“I am.”

“Have you ever talked to a doctor?”

I sat forward, then back.

“Paris?” Dr. Howell folded her hands on the table.

“Yes.”

“Would you mind sharing their name?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you tell me is between us. I will not break your confidence.”

“No.” I couldn’t risk it. If Howell did call Mason, he’d inform Julia. I’d been gone for over five days. She’d make sure I paid for it.

“Are you seeing him now?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean by ‘sort of'?”

I shrugged. “He gives Julia pills, she gives them to me.”

“What are you taking?”

I shrugged again.

Dr. Howell flicked a look up at Roy. To me, she said, “Have you ever thought about seeing someone else?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“My sister is good at getting what she wants. And she doesn’t want me to see anyone else.”

I pulled at the hairs on the back of my head. Tiny sharp stings bit my scalp. If I kept going, I’d be bald by the time I got out of there.

“Paris, why doesn’t your sister want you to see anyone else?”

“You tell anyone. I mean anyone, I will have you locked up for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you—”

Louise returned with our drinks. She laid out napkins and silverware. “You decide what you want?”

Roy put down his menu. “Do you have any biscuits this morning?”

“Of course, new batch is due out of the oven in five minutes.”

“Then two biscuits with gravy please, ma’am.”

“What about you, Paris?”

I nodded.

“Any eggs?” Louise said.

“No, thanks.” Roy tucked the menu behind the napkin dispenser.

“And you, Dr. Howell, what will you have?”

“One egg, two egg whites…do you have any fruit?”

“Strawberries for the pancakes. Blueberries for the waffles.”

“Waffles, huh?”

“Best you’ll ever eat.”

“Bring me a waffle with blueberries but don’t tell my husband.”

Louise laughed. “Secret is safe with me. I’ll be back in a bit with your food.”

Again, we were alone.

Dr. Howell drank some of her coffee and watched me over the rim. “I want to help you, Paris, but that’s going to be difficult for me to do with nothing to go on.”

“You can trust her,” Roy said.

“Please let me help you,” Dr. Howell said.

“Why?” The door was just thirty feet away. I mapped a path between the tables. “What reason could you possibly have that makes you want to just ‘help’ me?”

“Because Roy is a friend, and I owe him so much.”

“Really, for what?” A look of pensiveness fractured her neutral expression.

“About six years ago, my daughter got a job waiting tables at a bar. One night, she was assaulted. If it wasn’t for Roy, she would have suffered more than a few bruises.”

“If you owe him so much, why did you let him sit in prison?”

“Because I didn’t know who he was until a few years ago when Roy came into the hospital for some stitches. My daughter was waiting for me so we could go to lunch. She recognized him.”

Roy fiddled with his fork. I didn’t know whether to be angry at him for not asking for help or in awe because he’d been willing to sacrifice so much for a person he didn’t know.

But I wasn’t brave like him. “I can’t tell you his name. I’m sorry.”

“Because of your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s your legal guardian.”

I nodded.

“How would you feel about talking to someone who might be able to change that?”

“Who?”

“A colleague of mine, Dr. Carmichael.”

My fingertips turned cold and my palms sweaty. The muted sunlight coming through the windows burned my eyes.

“He has experience with competency evaluations. He’s gone to court many times on an individual’s behalf.”

A throbbing pain beat against my temple.

“Paris?”

I rubbed my eyes.

“Do you think you might be interested in meeting him? He has an appointment open this afternoon. Roy can even go to the hospital with you.”

“I told you what would happen if you ran your mouth.”

My heart skipped.

“Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

“You don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

The air thinned.

“Or if you don’t feel like going today, he has time tomorrow.”

“Cause any more trouble and I’ll make sure you never get out.”

I clamored out of the booth. My shoulder caught Louise’s on her way to our table, and she dropped the plates she carried. The jagged crash tossed up orange shards that chased me out the door.

Cold air froze the sweat on my skin and slipped under my coat. People dotted the sidewalk. Cars rolled past on the street. There was no longer a left or right, just the deluge of gritty footsteps and wet rubber sucking slush.

I walked, but I didn’t know where.

“Paris.” Roy’s voice was muted by distance. “Paris, wait.”

I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. Fear possessed me, pumping the buttery smell of disease and despair into my lungs.

“Think you can keep your mouth shut?”

My throat tightened.

“Or do I need to leave you here?”

Every swallow I took fought against the urge to vomit.

“I will. I’ll leave you in that room to marinate in your own piss.”

The buildings swelled, taking up the sidewalk. I slid on the tilting ground.

“You lied, Paris.”

People stretched skyward, thinning out and curving upward until I was surrounded.

“And that’s what you’re going to tell them. You lied. You did this for attention.”

I stumbled into the street, and a car horn wailed. A wall of black lunged for me. Roy pulled me out of the way. “Jesus Christ!”

The man driving the truck flipped me off. “Learn to use the crosswalk, asshole!”

Roy pinned me to his chest and cradled my head on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“Let me go.” I couldn’t lift my arms to make him.

“Never.”

“I’ll leave. I’ll go somewhere, and you’ll never have to look at me again.” I’d even go back to the apartment and face Julia.

“I don’t want you to leave. You know that.”

“Then why…” A tremor ran through my body. “Why are you trying to have me locked up?”

“I’m not…I wouldn’t. I just wanted to…” He petted my hair. “I’m sorry.”

“No more doctors.”

“No. No more.” He tried to step back, and I clung to him. “Let me fix your coat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your teeth are chattering.”

“I don’t want to let go yet.” I didn’t ever want to let go, but my muscles began to ache from shivering. Roy reached for the front of my coat. “I can zip my own coat.”

His cell phone rang, erasing the embarrassment from his face. He took it out of his pocket. “Hello?” Roy looked at me. “Yeah, I found him. No. No, that’s okay. Maybe later.”

I zipped up my coat and crammed my frozen hands into the pockets. A couple of people glanced my way. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and pulled it up to my nose.

“Tell Louise I’m sorry about…you know.” Roy dug the toe of his boot into a slushy pile of ice. “Right. Sure. That will be fine.”

There was a TV on in a pawnshop window. On the screen a crowd of supporters swarmed a two blonde haired women.

Even if I’d never seen their faces, I would have known who they were.

As always, Julia’s hair was perfect, her makeup precise, the polish on her nails flawless. Her cheeks were flushed, but it was the cold. I knew her fake tears when I saw them.

Alice was a different story. She looked scared.

A photo of me from the last showing flashed up on the screen. I’d dressed in Julia’s favorite Armani. It made me look taller. Was I really that thin? Maybe it was because I’d clasped my hands behind my back. Then the scene with Julia surrounded by a group of reporters returned.

Roy joined me by the window.

My painting replaced the image of my crying sisters, and the world stood still.

Lines of red and violet swarmed the canvas mixed with gold and orange. The moment all those years ago hovered beneath the surface. His lips had been so soft, so warm…

I went inside the pawnshop. There was a man behind the counter reading the paper.

“Give me the remote for that TV.” I pointed.

“You interested in buying it?”

“Please, I need to hear what they’re saying.”

“You even got any money to buy a TV?”

“The remote.”

“This ain’t no ‘try it then buy it’ store, buddy.”

I grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him over the display case. “Give me the fucking remote.” The shop owner waved a hand at the cash register. A TV remote lay next to it.

I went over to the window and pulled the TV around.

Roy walked into the store. “What are you doing?”

I increased the volume. The reporter’s voice popped with excitement at the beginning of each word.

“…disappearance sparked a bidding war at Christie’s in New York, and Paris Duvoe’s controversial painting broke record bids, selling for almost fourteen million dollars.”

The room dipped.

“She sold it.” The walls bled. “She sold it.” The muscles in my legs tightened, and I curled my hands into fists. Heat boiled from my stomach, rising into my throat on the back of bitter flavor. I stumbled back, and Roy tried to catch me. I slapped his hand away. “She sold my painting.” I stabbed a finger at the TV. “That fucking bitch sold my painting.”

“We’ll get it back.”

“How, Roy? Tell me how the fuck am I supposed to get it back?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

Whatever I was about to say dried up in my throat. The white rabbit sat at the base of the TV, regarding me with dark eyes. It ran its paws over its face and flicked an ear.

“No.”

It cocked its head.

“No, you promised.”

“Paris?”

The rabbit took a small hop toward the edge of the tiered stage filled with TVs.

“Paris, look at me.” When I didn’t, Roy made me. “What’s wrong?”

“It promised.”

“What promised?”

“The rabbit, the rabbit…” A blur of white flashed in my periphery. It was closer now and sat with its paws on the edge. Long delicate whiskers danced on each cheek beside its twitching pink nose.

I scurried back. “I’m not going with you.” It leaned forward like it was about to jump to the floor. I threw the remote, and it cracked the screen. The rabbit scurried back and disappeared behind the display.

It was not going to take me. I would not let it take me. But it didn’t have to. The weight inside me thickened until it crushed my lungs. Leaves clung to my pants, sticks snapped underfoot, and the cold winter air turned sour.

Shelves and display cases. Display cases and shelves. The door was gone, and the ceiling sank. I turned, trying to find some way out.