Chlöe came through the foyer just in time to see the attack. A man she didn’t recognise rocketed out of a parked car with such ferocity that Vee didn’t have time to react. The pizza box went flying as she stumbled, arms out to brace her fall. She came down rough on her knees and skidded face first into the pizza, smearing her white top and the side of her face.
The guy wasn’t finished. He sank both hands into her hair and tried to drag her back up. Vee screamed and socked a punch into his stomach. The man bent double and let out a sound like air draining out of a balloon. Vee had time to gather her wits. Only just. Screaming an incomprehensible war cry, the man lunged again and they almost went down together. Punches, scratches and grunts flew.
‘Stop!’ Chlöe screeched. It struck her that an assault was going down right in front of her, less that a fortnight into her job, and she wasn’t doing anything to stop it. She bobbed around the scrabble, not sure how to get in and separate them. Vee’s body kept blocking her. The man created an opening by grabbing Vee by the neck and letting loose another roar as he shoved her. Chlöe flinched at the sound of bone connecting with the base of a nearby streetlamp.
The commotion brought people out of the building. Chlöe nearly burst into tears when she saw Chris, one of the security guards, burst through the front entrance at a run. Vee was slumped over, keeping her balance by holding on to the streetlamp. The man made for her again. She kicked out with as much energy as she had left and got him in the crotch. He crumbled to his knees and Vee collared him and slammed his head into the concrete.
‘No!’ Chlöe grabbed Vee around the waist and hauled her off. Judging from the manic glint in her eyes she wouldn’t rest until her attacker’s head was a bloody mess. Shaking, Chlöe held on to her as best she could. Onlookers gathered and rubbernecked as Chris and another guard pulled the assailant up, keeping a good grip on his arms and a wary eye on Vee. As they radioed for backup, the receptionist rushed back inside to phone the police.
‘Oh my God,’ Chlöe whispered. One side of Vee’s face was ballooning. The metal imprint ran along the edge of her forehead, and Chlöe touched her hot flesh. ‘Shit, that looks bad!’
‘Who the hell …’ Vee mumbled through a mouthful of blood.
Chlöe helped her to her feet. Chris and Guard Two had taken command of ushering the staff back inside and breaking up the crowd. Vee hobbled over to them. The guy they restrained, or rather whose weight they supported as his feet dangled inches off the ground, was still rambling and muttering in Afrikaans. Vee tilted his chin and let it drop.
She exchanged looks with Chlöe. It was Ashwin Venter.
*
On Portia’s orders, they took the rest of the day off after giving the cops a statement and hanging around to see Venter carted away. Chlöe drove Vee’s car to the nearest emergency room, where a doctor confirmed a mild concussion but nothing serious. He pushed some strong pain pills at them, stressing caution: Vee had to stay awake through the night, in case the damage was worse than it looked.
Chlöe couldn’t stop trembling. Just getting them into Vee’s house had been a mission: Vee steadying her jittery hand and guiding the key into the lock.
‘I’m not dying.’
Chlöe jumped a foot. ‘Huh?’
Vee eyed her over the top of a steaming cup of tea. Chlöe wasn’t sure why she made it – force of habit, really – and Vee complained that her head felt too hot to bear even putting it near her mouth. ‘Calm down. You’ve draped this blanket over me like I’m dying.’
‘Sorry. White people are easily shaken by open aggression.’ Chlöe sat down sheepishly. ‘What a total loser. How could he attack you in broad daylight like that? This time I hope he gets buggered so much in jail he has to order a new rectum online.’
Vee tried to laugh and cringed. The medication had only dulled the pain. Chlöe pressed her and she admitted that everything had gone from strobing out of focus to a dark mass with a flickering orange halo. Chlöe watched her pass her tongue around her mouth for the dozenth time, feeling for damage. She reported that her inner cheek was bleeding a bit, but no teeth were chipped or loose.
‘That was some show, by the way. Where’d you learn to fight like that?’ Chlöe asked. A Mona Lisa smile was all the reply she got. Chlöe smiled back and let it go. Vee didn’t have secrets as much as a whole other underground life.
She kept an eye on the dog sitting at Vee’s side and it kept an eye on her. Since she had crossed the threshold the dog had kept her in sight, whether out of menace or mere curiosity Chlöe couldn’t tell. Neither, she hoped. Monro weighed as much as she did, and her nerves were so frayed she was sure she’d pass out cold if the dog tried anything. Monro had howled and whined at the state his mistress was in, and Vee cuddled his head on her knee and murmured in a lyrical tongue Chlöe had never heard her use. So that was what Kpelle, the tribe she was from, sounded like.
‘Is he gonna keep eyeballing me like that all day? It’s very unnerving.’
‘Don’t mind him.’ Vee stroked Monro. ‘He’s working out whether you’re responsible for this or not. He’ll make a decision soon.’
‘Haha, very funny. How come he doesn’t bark?’
‘Huskies tend to howl more than bark. All that wolf blood.’
‘Why Monro? Is he named after some famous person?’
‘Monrovia.’
Chlöe chewed on it for a second. ‘So you named your dog after the capital city of your country?’
‘Who’s his real owner? Is that him over there?’ Chlöe tipped her chin in the direction of a photograph on the bookcase. It had to have been taken some time ago. A younger Voinjama and an even taller man had their arms around each other, grinning at the camera. ‘He looks a lot like you. Oi, wait, is that your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he older? Older brothers suck so bad. What’s his name? Where is he?’
Vee caressed the lump on her head. ‘His name is Quincy. Yes, he is older, and I don’t know where he is. I’m not sure.’
‘What d’you mean you’re not sure? How can you not know where your own brother is?’
‘Bishop, please.’ Looking worn and strangely sad, Vee angled a nod towards the kitchen. ‘Keep your mouth busy and get something to eat. You must be starving. Right now our lunch is rotting in a trash can.’
Chlöe microwaved rice and a savoury mix of greens with chicken from the fridge and barely made it past three mouthfuls. She sprinted back to the kitchen.
‘Flip, that was hot! What’s in there, devil’s blood?’ she called as she made herself a sandwich. ‘No wonder you kick ass so well. You eat live coals.’
When she came out of the kitchen, Vee was asleep. Chlöe had to keep nudging her every twenty minutes. By five o’clock, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting to the clock on the wall.
‘You should go. I’ll be fine. Connie will babysit me tonight,’ Vee said.
‘She should already be here. How many fingers do you see?’
Chlöe rooted through her bag. ‘Take these. They’re my mum’s. They’ll help with the pain … and, y’know, bringing down the intensity of all your feels. Only take one.’
Vee examined the pill bottle with a highly suspicious look in the one orbital that wasn’t swollen. ‘What you doin’ with your Ma’s drugs, Chlöe?’
‘You left your brains on the sidewalk, bosslady. Don’t question shit you can’t understand right now.’ Chlöe hugged her, feeling guilty for leaving. She didn’t dare offer to stay. Today was evidence that beneath Vee’s mellow exterior lay a molten reservoir of otherness she wasn’t equipped to handle. Best she did as she was told.
‘I’m really sorry that I didn’t help you more today. I really tried,’ she said on her way out.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t let you. Next time.’ Vee gave her the most pathetic version of a wink Chlöe had ever seen.