Hideout by Jack Heath (iphone ebook reader txt) 📕

the rice soft, the sauces balanced. Perfect for anyone other than me.

Thistle would adore this, says a voice in my head, one I quickly push away.

Fred sits at one end of the table. He has two bowls in front of him, while everyone else has one. Zara, the elegant brunette, sits at the other end. Kyle, the dour teenager, takes the spot next to Fred. I end up trapped between Samson and Cedric, the thin Black guy in the suit. Everyone starts serving themselves.

Zara has poured me a glass of wine. The fluid makes a prism, splitting the colours into a rainbow. I don’t want to touch the drink. I need to stay focused. But I also need to fit in.

‘You want to say grace, Lux?’ Cedric asks. His mouth is already full.

‘Uh …’ I’ve visited Lux’s house and his childhood home. I do a frantic mental walk through both, looking for signs of religion.

Zara saves me. ‘He’s messing with you.’

Cedric chuckles, as though the very idea of God is funny.

‘It’s so great to meet you in person,’ Donnie tells me, in a way that implies he’s exchanged a lot of messages with Lux.

‘You too,’ I say. ‘Put a face to the name, you know. You’re not like I expected.’

‘Really?’ He looks interested. Most people are interested in themselves.

‘Yeah. I pictured you with brown eyes, I don’t know why. And your voice is deeper than I heard it in my head.’

I didn’t know Donnie existed until two hours ago. But I’m desperate to convince these people that I’m the one they’ve been messaging for weeks. Or months, or years. I don’t even know how long Lux has been part of their online community.

‘Thanks.’ Donnie looks pleased, as though my comment on his deep voice was a compliment.

Zara scoops some spears of baby corn into my bowl.

‘But you’re exactly as lovely as I pictured,’ I tell her. This seems like the kind of thing Lux would say. I only met him twice, but both times he hit on the women around him.

Zara looks pleased, her hand fluttering over her breastbone. ‘Thank you.’

The others cast a nervous glance at Fred, to see if he’ll allow this. Maybe he and Zara are together. He keeps his eyes on his food, shovelling it in like a kid just home from school. He’s filled both bowls, but left the second one untouched.

‘Do me, do me,’ says Cedric. Joking, but not joking.

‘Lux would already know what you looked like,’ Donnie objects, not in a friendly way. ‘You’re a celebrity.’

‘Our famous writer,’ Zara says, tousling Cedric’s hair, which is too short to actually tousle.

Cedric looks pleased at the acknowledgement of his fame, but disappointed that there’s nothing left to say about him.

‘What about me?’ I say, trying to head off further questions. ‘Am I like y’all expected?’

‘I didn’t expect any y’alls from you,’ Samson says, and Donnie laughs. Cedric laughs louder, like they’re competing.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘My inner redneck momentarily emerged from under my sophisticated exterior.’

I’ve overcorrected now. Lux’s language wasn’t that fancy, and I’m still wearing the ill-fitting clothes from the charity bin. But they seem to buy it.

‘It’s all good, man,’ Donnie says.

‘Yeah, you don’t have to hide here,’ Kyle mumbles, his mouth full.

Fred raises his glass of club soda. Everyone else has wine.

‘To being ourselves,’ he says.

The others all hold up their glasses.

I follow suit. ‘Cheers.’

Clink.

The wine burns its way down my throat.

Cedric smacks his lips and sighs. ‘So. Who’s ready for karaoke?’

Everyone helps out with the washing-up. There’s a friendly bustle of hands on lower backs, of ‘Thank you’ and ‘Can I just squeeze past?’ and ‘Here you go’.

After the dishwasher is stacked and the pans scrubbed, there’s karaoke. Cedric wasn’t kidding.

In the living area, Fred flicks on the TV. It’s huge, with a resolution approaching reality and colours exceeding it. Maybe this was where they all watched the videos of Abbey, Lux’s prisoner.

Fred brings up YouTube. The others shout requests, mostly on behalf of each other. ‘Put on “Call Me When You’re Sober” for Donnie!’ ‘Hey, Zara, are you gonna do “Fergalicious” for us?’ ‘Anything by Avril Lavigne works for me.’

Fred quickly throws a playlist together while everyone piles onto the sofa.

‘What have you got for us, Lux?’ Samson asks.

‘Yeah, what’s your go-to song?’

Cedric answers for me. ‘“I Try” by Macy Gray.’

He sounds like he’s kidding, but I can’t admit that I don’t know the song, just in case the real Lux was famously fond of it.

‘You folks have fun,’ I say. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘No!’ Donnie and Samson both yell.

Zara grabs my hand and drags me down onto the sofa. ‘Everyone must sing,’ she says, halfway between a threat and a joke.

I laugh nervously. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘Macy Gray it is,’ Fred says, and adds another video to the playlist.

The others can tell I’m anxious. Hopefully they can’t tell why. Could the real Lux sing? Would they know?

Samson takes the microphone first. He sings ‘Beautiful’ by Christina Aguilera. His voice comes out of hidden speakers in the corners of the room. It’s not good, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm, hamming it up, closing his eyes as he hits the high notes. Donnie slaps the table in time with the beat. The others applaud wildly. Zara tops up my wine.

Samson passes the microphone to Fred, who is expertly polite—he pretends he doesn’t want to perform, but only for a few seconds. He doesn’t make the others beg. His chosen song is a cover of ‘Uptown Girl’, and he sings it more or less in tune, bobbing his head to the thumping bass, glancing at Zara from time to time. She smiles and sips her drink.

‘I’m going to bed,’ Kyle