Available Darkness Season 2

dated anyone since I’ve known him.
    Someone else is here. But who?
    Abigail was sleeping in a T-shirt and shorts. She changed clothes, pulling on a striped black and purple long-sleeved shirt with a skull on the front and her long black skirt, then slipped into her knee-high matching purple and black socks and looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her gothiness.
    She wasn’t sure why, but Abigail took tremendous delight in the sour looks she earned from passerby on the streets when she went out with Larry at night. Quiet judgment burned in their sockets, as if they had any right to appraise her — as if they knew anything about her at all.
    Abigail was about to open her bedroom door when she saw a note from Larry taped to the inside. She tore it from the white wood and read it.

    “Hey Abi,
    I’ve got someone coming over whom I’d like to hire, so you have someone at home to watch you when I have to run out for business. Just a few hours a night.
    I told her you have some condition where you sleep all day, but she doesn’t know anything more than that. She used to be the au pair for a family across the street, and she seems really great. So, please, let me do all the talking, and please … be nice.”

    Be nice? What does he think I am?
    Abigail crumpled the note and tossed it in the trashcan beside her desk, annoyed, then pushed open her bedroom door when she heard Larry’s voice drifting up from the stairs. His most charming version talking to the girl.
    She must be pretty. I wonder if he’s hiring her for me, or himself?
    Abigail heard laughter — an annoying giggle which sounded far too happy.
    I can just tell I’m gonna hate her.
    Abigail threw an exaggerated cough into her closed fist, announcing herself as she descended the stairs to see Larry and a pretty blonde girl standing, not sitting, side-by-side in the living room.
    “Oh good, she’s up,” Larry said. “Hey, Abi, this is Katya.”
    “Hi,” Katya said, smiling as she reached out her hand to shake Abigail’s.
    Abigail met Katya’s eyes but kept her hands tucked into her long sleeves. She looked at Larry, quietly asking him to take the ball.
    “She’s got this OCD thing. She doesn’t touch anyone.”
    Katya smiled again, a fake smile which annoyed Abigail even more than she already was, which was quite a lot considering she was barely awake.
    “It’s good to meet you,” Katya said, seemingly unsure what to do with her hand now that she wasn’t using it to shake. Abigail caught herself drawing a nugget of pleasure from the girl’s awkwardness, and wondered why she was feeling so catty towards Katya.
    Her mind flashed to a stolen memory from Larry’s ex-girlfriend, Abigail’s first victim. She realized where her feelings were coming from — she was feeling Lydia’s jealousy.
    Weird. And gross!
    Abigail felt awkward, as if Larry had somehow read her thoughts. She shook the feelings from her shoulders and gave Katya her best smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said.
    “Let’s all have a seat, eh?” Larry gestured toward the couch. “Would you like a drink, Katya? Abi?”
    “No, thanks,” Katya said.
    Abigail said, “I’ll have a Pepsi, please.”
    “OK,” Larry said, then left the two of them in the living room while he went into the kitchen.
    Abigail took a seat in one of the two overstuffed leather recliners, forcing Katya to either take the other recliner, or the sofa. She chose the sofa. Larry returned and handed Abigail a cold Pepsi, searching her eyes for confirmation that she’d seen the note so she didn’t say anything to contradict Larry’s story. Abigail nodded, though she sort of wanted to leave him hanging, since she was still annoyed that he’d led her to murder an innocent woman.
    Larry took the other recliner so the three of them sat in a triangle, though Abigail felt like the definite center of attention. She was sure if Larry weren’t there to move things along, she and Katya would’ve stared at one another for a half hour before either found a word between them.
    “So, Katya, where are you from originally?”
    “Ukraine, though we moved here when I was 7. Well, to New York first, and then here, five years ago. Where are you from?”
    “I’m from California,” Larry lied. “Abi here is from Florida.”
    Florida? I don’t know anything about Florida. What if she asks me something about Florida? Hopefully, she’s never been there either.
    “How do you like it out here?” Katya