Page 108 of Tainted

* "How is our friend?"

* We don't have friends in common

19

Zara

Kenyon had been in a weird place since Sydney’s interview. I wasn’t sure if he noticed it, but his eyes were darker, and he was quieter. He had gone back inside himself to that place where I couldn’t reach him. Some days, being in Kenyon Keyes’ world was fun and exciting, and others, it had you on eggshells, not knowing what to expect.

His frown wasn’t as deep today, and he’d even made a sarcastic joke this morning. Now, Kenyon was shirtless, hunched over his grandfather’s old car. He hadn’t noticed me at first, just nodded in my direction when I came in, but I liked watching this version of him.

“Are you going to get her painted?”

“Her?” Kenyon lifted his head just a bit. “How do you figure it’s a her?”

My shoulders hunched, “How you take care of it says so.”

“I don’t know yet,” he sighed, throwing the towel over his bare shoulder, “Nostalgia says no, but I think it would look good wrapped in Olive with red accents.”

“Olive?” I huffed, causing him to chuckle, “Do you always have to stand out?”

“Somebody has to do it.”

“What are you doing now?” I asked, leaning forward on the stool I’d dragged beside the car.

“Replacing the spark plugs.”

I nodded like I knew what Kenyon was talking about. “What do they do?”

“They’re like small lighters inside the engine. They create the spark that ignites the fuel, making the engine run.”

“You know a lot about cars,” I commented as he carefully fit the new spark plug into place. “You shouldn’t let that go to waste. Just leave the color schemes to me.”

I was about to dig deeper into that part of him when my phone buzzed on the workbench beside me.

“Hey, Bran,” I answered, but sobs filtered through the speaker, forcing me to stand up. “Brandy? What’s wrong?”

“Nana.” Was all she could manage before her cries pierced my ears.

“Brandy, what happened to her?” I yelled as if raising my voice would snap her out of it.

Kenyon took the phone because I began hyperventilating, thinking the worst. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Banana Girl. After a brief conversation, Kenyon directed me to change so we could go to the hospital. His car, usually filled with loud music, was silent tonight. The tires rolling against the rocky Northbridge roads played on a loop until we reached the parking lot.

When the automatic doors opened, I searched for Brandy. Then Kenyon tapped my shoulder and pointed to her sitting in the corner.

“Where is she? What happened?” I rushed out, approaching Brandy.

She lifted her head at the sound of my voice.

“I-I don’t know. Miss G called and said they had to send her to the ER. She was acting confused and complaining of a headache. They won’t let me see her yet.”

“Why?”

“They said somebody was already back there, and I have to wait,” Brandy explained.

Kenyon looked at me, and I shrugged because I had no idea who it could be.

“Who’s back there?” I asked.

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