Page 91 of Faux Real
“Me?” Kennedy blinks, tossing Max a side-eye. “Oh yeah, I’m totally fine, just busy busy busy.” She clears her throat. “How are you guys? Only one more day! Yay!”
Max shifts awkwardly beside me. “Why don’t you sit down, Ken? Just for a minute maybe?”
“Oh, I can’t!” Kennedy exclaims, repeatedly tapping her coffee. “I only have like two minutes before I need to go and review my notes for—” She frowns as she pulls her phone from her pocket. “Hello? Hello?” She grunts, hanging up. “This is like the third time I’ve gotten a call from an unknown number and they don’t say anything! Creepy right?!”
“Maybe it’s a telemarketer or a scam call or something,” Max suggests.
“In order to scam someone, you kind of need to talk to the person,” Kennedy says, sucking a sharp breath and letting it out. “Wow, it’s hot in here.”
“It’s not,” I note in a cold tone, meeting her round eyes. “It’s actually a bit chilly.” I glance at Max suspiciously. Something is wrong. “Are you hot, Maxine?”
Max blinks. “Uh—I guess, a little. Kind of stuffy here.”
“It’s all the warm bodies!” Kennedy chirps with a nervous laugh. “Okay well, I gotta go now but—” She swallows, smiling at me. “I’ll see you Saturday? At eight? You put my name on the guest list, right? I don’t need an ID?”
“So youdidget my texts,” I say slowly, an uneasy feeling in my gut.
“I did and I’m sorry for not replying!” she says. “I’ve been busy, you know, exams and stuff. But I’ll be there, I promise, okay?”
“Saturday’s your show, right?” Max asks. “Cliff told me about it when we were uh— hanging out.”
“You coming?” I ask, keeping one eye on a fidgeting Kennedy.
“Can’t,” Max sighs, rolling her eyes. “It’s my dad’s birthday so we’re having a family night.” She looks at Kennedy. “But I’ll help our girl get ready so she doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the leather and ripped jeans.”
“Right.” Kennedy’s cheeks flush. “And with that, I take my leave.” Her jaw locks as she says, “ByeMaxine.” With a softened expression, she smiles at me. “See you, Ollie.”
“Mhmm,” I hum, watching her walk away. When she’s out of sight, I turn to Max and shoot her a stern look. “What’s she on?”
“What?” Max peeps, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t,” I state, a tiny ember of anger burning inside me. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t think I do,” Max mumbles into her coffee.
“I’m serious Maxine, tell me,” I demand. “Her pupils were dilated, and she was bloody shaking. What is she on?”
“Drop it, Ollie,” Max sighs, closing her eyes. “Just let it go. There’s no point, trust me, I’ve tried.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Please just let it go,” Max pleads, desperation in her voice. “Please? She’s fine, just a little stressed, okay? She needs to figure shit out herself.”
I shake my head. Of course, she’s on drugs. It makes so much sense now.
“You shouldn’t have given her a coffee,” I mutter. “She could pass out or something if she’s on what I think she is.”
“I know,” Max says in a defeated tone. “It was decaf.”
“Decaf? She’d kill you if she found out.”
“Yeah, well are you going to tell her?” Max asks.
“‘Course not.” I pause. “Should I be worried, Max? Is she really okay?”
“She’s fine, she’s just—she’s Kenny.” Max glances at the two muffins in front of her. “Shit, she needs this. I doubt she’s eaten all day. I gotta go find Ken.” Max stands up and tosses me a weak smile. “Catch you later, London.”
“Yeah,” I say, handing Maxine her notebook. “You’re a pretty good friend, you know that, right?”
