The Lies That Bind

6: Scary Spice

If you're going to be reckless, then you're not going in alone.

Cooper's words stuck with her, even days after his unannounced visit. Calla had tried to argue the point, warning him of the dangers this path would inevitably lead to. He'd ignored her every word. And really, once his ticket had been bought, there'd been no need to argue further.

They were officially in this together.

Calla wanted to hate him for it. She'd done everything she could to keep him blind since they'd left for college, giving him no indication that anything in her life was amiss. It had been better that way. Better for her, to eliminate distractions, because he was a distraction—a stumbling over dead bodies, bound to get himself in trouble type of distraction. And better for him, too. Because despite what he'd told her—that he didn't want her lies, that he didn't want what was easy—she thought there was still a part of him that had been happy these last two years. Or if not happy, then at least content.

Now that was all shot to hell.

Calla heaved a sigh as she set aside a vial of fake blood. She'd come here with Olivia, her old roommate, and Olivia's longtime boyfriend Kevin, both of whom were still caught in a lively debate in the couple's costume section, all the way on the other side of the department store.

There would be no leaving this place, not until those two figured out what the hell they wanted to wear for Halloween weekend. So now Calla was stuck here. Waiting.

Grumbling, she pulled out her phone and dialed the only person she could stand to stomach the sight of these days. Her own face stared back at her as she waited for him to accept the video chat request.

Cooper's face popped up on the screen a second later. "What now?"

"Why do you assume there's a crisis?" Calla asked, angling the camera so that the plastic skulls over her shoulder were visible.

Cooper immediately drew closer. "What the f—oh. Jesus Christ. Don't do that."

She grinned. "So paranoid."

"I wonder why." He propped an arm behind his head, knuckles brushing against a familiar wooden bedframe. Calla recognized it immediately for what it was; she'd spent an amusing hour watching Vincent and Cooper attempt to hammer it together when they'd first moved into their apartment at the start of their sophomore year. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Costume shopping." She wandered over to the next aisle. "I've got no idea what I want to be this year."

Cooper grinned. "You should go as Scary Spice." Silence. "Because you're—"

"Ha-ha. Yes." She rolled her eyes. "What about you?"

"No idea." He frowned, as though he hadn't given that particular question much thought at all.

"The party is in three days, Cooper."

"I know, I know." His frown deepened. "Can you pick something out for me? I'll pay you back." He held up a warning finger. "No tights."

"Fine." She fingered the edge of a red mask. "I must say, I'm not all that confident your car can get us to Rochester in one piece." When he didn't immediately answer, Calla glanced at the screen. "Hello?"

"Vincent's loaning me his truck," he said quickly, as if by spitting the words out fast enough, he might be able to avoid some emotional blow. "My car quit on me after the drive up to your place. She's in the shop right now."

"Oh." Cooper loved that rattling piece of shit. Calla licked her lips. "That's...unfortunate."

"I bet you're pleased," he mumbled. "You hate my car."