Heart of Ice by April Henry, Lis Wiehl Read Free Book Online

variety of people and gain power over the ones she chose to single out.
    In her head, Elizabeth called what she did “The Game.”
    The rules were simple: to pretend to be whatever someone else needed until they gave you whatever you needed. After that, there were no rules. The Game was fair, at least to Elizabeth’s way of thinking. Anyone could play it. In fact, she was sure most people were playing it; they just didn’t like to admit it. Sure, there were a few losers and idiots, suckers who, for whatever reason, didn’t mind getting played. And some people were so weak that they played poorly, basically inviting anyone to take advantage of them.
    Living with Grandma had taught Elizabeth the basic rules. At Grandma’s she had learned that you were either a giver or a taker, predator or prey.
    And Cassidy Shaw had all the hallmarks of prey. The corners of her mouth turned up any time Elizabeth praised her job, her highlights, her French manicure. And turned down any time Elizabeth mentioned calories, age, looks, or career advancement.
    Elizabeth had a gift. Within a few minutes of meeting people, she could identify what they liked least about themselves. Did they think they were too shy, too fat, too ugly? She knew. If it was worth her while she then pretended to accept them exactly as they were: shy, fat, poor, bulimic, whatever. Even if they disgusted her. To deepen the bond, she would reveal that she secretly shared the same flaw as her newfound friend.
    She could be whatever anyone needed. Patriotic or prissy. Worldly or naïve. Strong, if someone longed to be dominated. Submissive, if they wanted to dominate. She might pose as a celebrity, a suffering artist, a misunderstood spouse. Sometimes her lies came so easily that she almost believed them herself as she heard them come out of her mouth.
    Elizabeth adjusted her message to match whatever she saw in the recipient’s face, read in the body. The feedback allowed her to build and maintain control—at least until she was done. Or bored. Her most recent best friend had lasted just long enough to cosign the loan for Elizabeth’s new car.
    All Elizabeth had to do was to give people what they longed for. Or pretend to give it to them, which was basically the same thing. After that it was like the Latin saying Elizabeth had learned at the Spurling Institute— quid pro quo . A trade. For as long as she needed them, she offered people acceptance, love, understanding. And in turn, people gave her what she needed. Money. Power. Sex. Secrets. Admiration. Thrills.
    Now Elizabeth tried out another topic, like a fisherman casting a new lure into the water. Leaning closer to Cassidy, she whispered, “How come if this is a health club, the men all look so schlumpy?” She cut her eyes to two guys drinking coffee a few tables away. One man’s shorts and sweat-stained T-shirt were accented with black socks and brown shoes. His friend had a comb-over that consisted of about five extremely long strands of hair curled in a spiral.
    “Men,” Cassidy said with a shrug.
    But Elizabeth caught the shadow that crossed her face. She gave her imaginary line a tug. “I’ve had terrible luck with men. Sometimes I think that all men are just, just . . .”
    “Users?” Cassidy supplied.
    “Exactly.” Hook, line, and sinker. Elizabeth took a sip of her tea. “What about you? You can’t be single, can you?”
    “My last boyfriend—well, he had some issues. And he took them out on me.”
    Elizabeth bit her lip. “I dated someone like that.” She hadn’t, of course, but she trusted her mouth to come up with the right words even before her mind knew what they were. “He seemed to think he wasn’t abusive if he didn’t leave actual bruises. Instead he just did a number on my self-esteem.”
    Cassidy’s next words came in a rush. “Once Rick pulled a gun on me.” She put her hand over her mouth, looking surprised.
    Around Elizabeth, people readily offered up their