Page 52 of Black Hearts
“Right, he did mention someone was coming today for something.” She waved her hand in the air. “When he talks business, I tend to tune him out. You want anything to drink? I’ll get us something.”
“Uh, no, thank you.” Hmm. Maybe I should’ve just asked for water.
Kyra gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Right.” She said the word slowly, and I could tell this whole thing was odd. For her and for me. She left to get something, and I meandered to the nearest table, sitting down in one of the chairs and gazing out at the well-manicured gardens just beyond the patio.
When she came back, she carried a black metal bottle. She unhurriedly sat by me, though she didn’t let her gaze stay on me for long. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk much. I didn’t feel as comfortable around her as I did with Zoey, but maybe that was just because Zoey had been very outgoing.
“So, you like yoga?” I asked, trying to break the silence.
“I have to do it every day, otherwise—” She stopped herself. “Otherwise let’s just say it’s not pretty.” Again, she gave me a smile, but I could tell it was forced. She didn’t really want to be with me right now.
I fiddled with my hands on my lap. “Are you Oliver’s daughter?” Markus had mentioned his sons, but he hadn’t said much of anything about her. She was pretty much a mystery to me, and judging by how she was acting, she’d stay that way—which was fine. I didn’t need to be friends with everybody.
Kyra let out a short chuckle. “Uh, no.”
Swallowing, I kept myself from asking about anything else, because it kind of seemed like no matter what I said, I said the wrong thing. Me and social situations, me and strangers, apparently didn’t mix too well. Who would’ve known?
Neither Kyra or I was able to look at each other for long. We each chose to stare at other things around us. The patio’s stone, the garden just beyond its reach. I must’ve been the only one feeling strange here, because she let out a cough that I knew wasn’t due to being sick.
I didn’t know how long I should sit there with her, or if I should get up and go inside, try to find Markus. I’d rather bore myself listening to him and Oliver talk business than sit here with Kyra in an uneasy, awkward silence.
Right when I was about to excuse myself and leave the patio and Kyra to her previous yoga session, Kyra let out a sigh and said, “Sorry. I’m not… my people skills aren’t that great. Not around here, anyway.”
I shrugged. “Mine aren’t good, either.”
She laughed softly at that, the expression lightening up her face. “Yeah, you’re a little weird, aren’t you?” When she wasn’t looking kind of mean, she was pretty. Pretty in an unconventional way with that hair, but where Zoey owned it, she didn’t.
“I guess.” It was hard to argue with her on that; if there was one thing I’d learned since coming to the Scott house, it’s that I was weird. My upbringing was weird. Everything involving me was the opposite of normal, and I could only blame my serial-killing father for that. That wasn’t something I wanted to share with her, though.
“So, I heard you’re here for help about something,” Kyra tried guiding the conversation.
All I said was, “Yeah. I don’t know how it’s going to help. Isn’t a contract just a fancy piece of paper?”
She laughed, but that laugh sounded bitter. “To people around here, it’s all about the fancy pieces of paper. Contracts, NDAs, that green stuff. Mostly the green stuff, but the former two definitely help keep the green stuff in the right pockets.”
“Green stuff?”
“Money.”
Oh. Duh. Yes, I should’ve known she was talking about money. To people around here, money must mean everything. Still, I didn’t know how that was going to help with Markus’s father. For someone who was such a cold-blooded killer, to be undone by a simple contract felt almost silly.
Kyra went on, “You’d be surprised at what money makes people do. The things it can hide. Money seals everyone’s lips—it’s just a matter of finding out what their buyout number is. Everyone has one, especially the rich. They use their money to hide all their dirty secrets. You’d be surprised at what goes on around here.”
I highly doubted that, but talking about what Markus and the Scotts did was a big no-no. The number one no-no, so I had to keep it to myself. I did wonder what she meant, though, because there was no way she was talking about a family of killers. Had to be something else, something more going on here in Midpark.
An uncomfortable silence once again fell upon us. I didn’t know how long it was before Kyra asked, “You going to school? Going to Hillcrest?”
“Oh, no.”
“You got a job?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows creased. “You a trophy wife, then? They do like them young around here.” That last comment was mostly to herself, but I caught it, unsure of what she meant.
“I’m not married,” I told her. I opened my mouth to tell her what I was, but it was right then that I realized I didn’t exactly know what to say.
What was I? I wasn’t a student at Hillcrest University. I didn’t have a job anywhere, and I wasn’t married to Markus or any of the others. What did that make me?
