Page 9 of The Enemy Plot
I shoot a glance at her. “Communication.”
The doctor quirks an eyebrow. “Communication?”
Yeah, I know. Ironic, considering it’s a skill I’ve barely mastered myself. But I see the appeal now. “I wish Lola would talk to me and tell me stuff about her life. School, friends.”
Now she’s the one who crosses her arms. “What else do you want to know? You already control every single aspect of my life!”
“I don’t, Lola. I’m just trying to take care of you. It’s not easy for me, you know.”
“Good,” Dr. Stewart says with a little bow of his head. “There you go. That’s communicating. Deacon, keep going. Why is this hard for you?”
I draw a hand over my beard, keeping my gaze on Lola. “I have no experience with this. With parenting. So I'm clueless how to act. I want to try and make things better for you, but you’re always shutting me down.”
She looks at me for a second, then at Dr. S., who encourages her with a nod. “I need air, that’s all.” She tugs on her sleeves. “You don’t know me well, but I kind of like being alone—reading, listening to music, dancing, those kinds of things.”
Well, turns out we’re a lot more alike than I thought.
I clear my throat. “Right. I get that.”
“But,” she mumbles, “I’ll try totell you stuff.”
“And I’ll try to give you space,” I say, offering her a smile, and she returns it.
Dr. S. leans back in his armchair with a fatherly smile, and for the first time, I think this therapy thing might not be a total waste of time after all.
5
Bookworm Pride
Deacon
As soon as our session ends, Lola is ready to cash in her trip to the bookstore. Hopefully, it won’t take long, and Alice won’t be there to torture me with her cheerful attitude.
The jangle of a bell signals our entrance. The pink-haired girl—pretty sure her name is Hayley—is helping a customer, but she welcomes us with a wave and a smile. I’ve never been inside before, and it’s definitely not what I was expecting. I immediately feeluncomfortable.
Everything screams girly and cozy. White wooden bookshelves on most walls are equipped with sliding ladders that look like a disaster waiting to happen. Mismatched couches and armchairs form a reading area in the middle of the room. Two large display tables are situated in front of it, the first thing our eyes land on as we enter. One of them has a sign that says, “Bookstagram made me buy it.”
What on earth is Bookstagram? Is it some kind of cult? I wouldn’t put it past these people. It’s always the quiet ones.
“Oh, hi,” Alice says, striding from the back room with a bright smile. Just when I was hoping she wasn’t here. Her face tenses the moment she sees me. She’s wearing the same black leggings as this morning, but she’s changed her T-shirt to a form-fitting pink one that says, “Professional Book Nerd” with the bookstore logo on the bottom near the hem. Her brooch remains firmly in place.
I give her a noncommittal nod, and she focuses on Lola, who is currently sporting the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on her.
“Can I help you find something?” she chirps.
Lola gives her a shy smile, and part of me feels jealous. I can never get a smile out of her. I guess she likes chipper brunettes more than old grumps like me. “Yes, I’m looking for some books. I just finishedMelody’s Loveby LindseyJeppsen. Right now, I don’t think I’ll ever find something as good. But maybe you have some suggestions.”
Alice claps her hands. “Oh, absolutely. I’m sure we’ll find something. I didn’t know you were a bookworm too. Welcome to the club,” she says, leading her to the shelf on my left.
“Wait, you pride yourself on being a worm?” I sneer, unable to stop myself.
That earns me a glare from both Alice and Lola. Was my comment that crazy? I mean, a worm isn’t exactly the most desirable creature. This woman is weirder than I thought. And possibly a cultist.
“Don’t listen to him,” Lola says, turning back to Alice. “He doesn’t get it. He’s not a reader, and he won’t even let me have a Bookstagram account.”
Alice’s mouth opens to form a small “o,” as if suddenly everything made sense and she had me figured out. So what if I don’t read? Alice focuses on Lola again. “Have you ever read anything by Jen Logan?”
“No,” Lola says, her eyes sparkling.