Free Hide Your Eyes by Alison Gaylin Page A

the clear, flat stretch of sidewalk ahead of me. Maybe Yale was right. Maybe I was a paranoid, relationship-ruining nightmare.

    My bag tugged at my shoulder, and I realized it was because the Post was still in there. I pulled it out and looked at Nate, eyeing the camera in all his shirtless, gleaming celebrity, framed by Veronica’s studiously drawn outline. Much as I hated the photo and the headline and the article, Veronica’s outline irritated me most of all. She had actually used a ruler.

    Without thinking, I ripped the page in half. It felt better than I’d expected. I tore it into quarters, then eighths, then random little bits. The tension in my chest began to lift; I almost wanted to laugh. There was a trash can nearby, so I decimated the entire tabloid and tossed it up and in, like confetti. It felt so good I considered buying another Post , just so I could do it again. Then I felt two hands on my shoulders and my heart jumped into my mouth.

    ‘What the—’ I spun around. It took me a few seconds to recognize the pinkish face, the burgundy hair. ‘ Tredwell? ’

    ‘Sorry, dude,’ the young waiter said. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

    ‘Did I forget something?’ I grasped my bag.

    ‘No . . . You walk fast.’ He smiled broadly and panted. ‘Ummmm . . . Where’d your friend go?’

    ‘Yale? He’s . . . smoking. Did he not pay his share of the bill?’

    ‘No, no, no, no . . . It’s not that. I . . . I wanted to talk to you.’ Tredwell finally caught his breath and smiled again. ‘Whew!’ He jammed his hands into the pockets of his red butcher’s apron. He wasn’t wearing a coat. ‘Whoosh! Cold! Hooo boy!’

    The conversation was starting to annoy me, and I was about to tell this AWOL waiter Cs Ah="as much, but when I looked into his eyes, I detected an emotion that didn’t match the grin, the slouch, the ridiculous exclamations. It was fear, and it shut me right up.

    When his fake smile dropped away, Tredwell looked about ten years older and suddenly intelligent. ‘I need to talk to you about Peter,’ he said.
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6

    Verbal Judo

    Tredwell was on the verge of hypothermia, so we ducked into the nearest bar - a windowless crater called Cheap Trix that had no business being open during the day. Since it was empty, the bartender noticed us immediately. ‘Nice apron,’ he shouted over needlessly loud techno music as he eyed the shivering Tredwell. ‘You know you can’t just come in here for the heater. You have to order something.’ I thought, What the hell? I need it , and asked for a draft beer while Tredwell ran to the bathroom, explaining, ‘I’ll be right back. I just g-g-gotta put hot water on my hands.’

    By the time Tredwell returned, I’d finished around three quarters of the beer and was considering ordering another. ‘What took you so long?’ I said, but when he launched into a speech about thinking the door was locked, even though it wasn’t, it was just sticky, you know how old doors get sticky sometimes and you think they’re locked even though they’re not, I’d already heard too much. ‘Tell me about Peter.’

    Tredwell took a swallow of my beer before replying, ‘Peter Steele is evil.’

    I held my breath and waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He just looked at me until frustration seeped out of my skin.

    ‘Are you going to maybe elaborate on that? Because you can’t just say somebody’s evil. It’s not like saying he’s got brown hair or that he’s a Methodist or something. You say somebody’s evil, you have to give examples.’

    ‘All right . . . Ummm. He gives off bad energy? I know you felt it; otherwise you wouldn’t have run to the bathroom like you did. And, shit, man, those contacts. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice those freaky, freaky contacts. Whoa. I can’t believe he bought those . . .’

    ‘I noticed the contacts, Tredwell. And I felt the energy .’ I polished off the beer and leveled my eyes at him.