Keep Your Friends Close by Janelle Harris

Author:Janelle Harris [Harris, Janelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

GILLIAN

Friday 5 July 2019

The doorbell rings and I ignore it. It’s early, not long after 8 a.m., and I’m not fully dressed. I want to curl my hair and pop on some make-up before I leave to walk around to Darcy’s. I have big news for the Hogans today, and I really would like to look my best when I deliver it.

The doorbell rings again. It irks me that someone thinks it’s okay to call unannounced at this hour of the morning, and I assume they’re actually looking for Kimberly or Eddie. When the bell-ringing stops and knocking starts instead it grows a little harder to ignore. And when it escalates to the door rattling on its hinges as someone actually pounds their fist against it, I slam down my foundation brush on my bedside table in frustration.

‘Hellllloooo,’ a female voice calls. ‘Hello, Gillian, are you in there? Please open the door.’

I roll my eyes as I recognise Kimberly’s voice and I can sense her strange determination to find me. I march through my apartment, the stomp of my feet echoing the pounding on the door.

I creak the door open slowly and Kimberly almost knocks on my face as she has her fist raised and ready to pound some more.

‘Oh,’ she says, as if she wasn’t really expecting to see me, and I’m suddenly sorry I answered after all. ‘You’re okay.’

‘Sorry,’ I say, running my hand through my hair that’s frizzy and that I won’t have time to curl if I have to stand chatting for long.

Kimberly stares at me. Her eyes are washing over me as if she’s searching for something. It makes me instantly uncomfortable and I don’t understand.

‘I was in the shower,’ I lie, wondering if she’s searching for an explanation as to why I took so long to answer the door.

‘Thank God, you’re okay,’ she says again, and I realise she’s somewhat breathless. It can’t simply be from knocking with such vigour. Kimberly’s toned arms and slim legs, emphasised by the neon yoga pants and Lycra top she’s wearing leave no question about her fitness. Kimberly is frightened, I decide. I’m just not sure of what. Me?

‘Can I come in?’ she asks, looking all around as if someone is watching.

I glance over my shoulder. Both bedroom doors are closed.

‘Please,’ she adds, as I look back at her and make eye contact.

I nod and step back so she can walk past. I close the door behind us with some reluctance, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off the bedroom doors.

‘I just wanted to check you’re okay,’ Kimberly says, looking all around.

‘Of course, I’m okay.’ I smile. ‘Are you?’ I want to add that Kimberly is acting so oddly it’s making me uncomfortable, but I barely know her and I’ve no idea if this isn’t simply what she’s always like. And I find myself momentarily regretting the decision to move into such a domestic community where people all seem to know each other’s business – or at least want to know it.

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