Nobody.
I leaned my head out into the hall and looked from side to side.
Empty.
My eyes trailed down to the floor. Nothing … except for the package resting by my feet. A package with a gift tag that read Bremy.
Oh no, no, no. This could not be good. Only a handful of people knew I was here, and my father was one of them. I licked my lips. Yet another habit I really needed to break until I could afford things like lip balm. I slowly bent down, and put my hands on either side of the package. I lifted it slowly, turning my head so that my right ear tilted towards it. No ticking. Good. Good.
I straightened then stepped back into my apartment. I walked over to my bed and placed the package gently down on the mattress. We stared at one another for a while, the package and I. Me with my I know you’re up to no good face on. The package with its blank cardboard stare that gave nothing away. Cocky bastard. It knew nobody could resist its seductive brown paper packaging.
I screwed up my lips and huffed a breath through my nose. Who was I kidding? I bent over and tore into the brown paper. Seconds later, the box underneath lay exposed. It was a garment box, to be precise. I leaned back and gave it another once over. I liked garment boxes. Ooh, and this one was from a nice store, like my old life kind of nice store. I leaned forward again and gently lifted off the top half of the box before peeling back the soft tissue paper underneath. My hand then flew to my eyes to wipe away the happy tears that I knew would soon begin to flow.
It was a coat. A cashmere coat!
I brought my hands down to the soft, soft folds and brought them up to my cheek. As I did, a white card fluttered to the floor. I bent to pick it up. Here’s to keeping Bremy St. James the hottest thing in the city.
R.
I gasped. Ricky! In all the soul-crushing confusion, I had forgotten about Ricky!
Just then another white card dropped. I reached for it, my eyes quickly scanning the gold embossed script. An invitation to the fundraiser at the museum?
A dark cloud passed over the happy sun of cashmere that had risen in my thoughts. This had my father’s stink all over it. What was he up to? And what did it have to do with Ricky? Ricky would never work for my father. Not again. Not after what happened the last time. It was a strange pairing, to say the least. I mean, the only thing they had in common was … me.
Questions raced through my mind like runners on a track … runners I was about to take down with a trip wire. I was so tired. I ran my free hand over my face. So many questions. Too many questions. I just couldn’t think another thought. I wrapped the coat around my shoulders and snuggled into my cot. Now was not the time to face all this. I couldn’t take anymore. Not with all the Bremys’ terrified faces still ping-ponging around in my head. No, now was the time to sleep in non-synthetic fibres and have expensive dreams. It had been so long since I had expensive dreams. I inhaled the sweet smell of money in the supple material. Sure, the coat had come from an evil place, not much doubt about that, but that wasn’t its fault. Besides, it had been a long day. I no longer had the strength it took to be a good person. I deserved this.
I closed my eyes.
Tonight, I would sleep like a princess … without any damn peas.
***
One moment I was asleep, the next I was listening to my phone buzz on the toilet. Uh-oh. I checked the time. Seven o’clock.
I left my phone off all yesterday, not really wanting to talk to anyone about what had happened, but I turned it on again before bed. I knew I couldn’t avoid this moment. If I didn’t answer, then Mr Pushkin would track me down some other way, and then I’d never make it to Nepal. Yup, Nepal. At some point yesterday, my subconscious started to think that maybe Nepal wasn’t such a bad idea. Not bad at all. I could take in some mountain air, build up some defence training that went beyond screaming and running, and then maybe, just maybe, I’d live to see another Bremy St. James Day Parade. Not that I would actually go. All that screaming had left me with a headache. So, yes, it was decided. I was definitely going to Nepal … maybe.
‘Hello?’
‘You have been very bad girl,’ Mr Pushkin said. He inflected the middle of the word girl into a singsong voice, which made sense, because killing people probably did make him happy.
‘I know,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I will pay you back. I just—’
‘Now, now, Little Bremy, that is not what I meant,’ he interrupted, merriment still jingling in his diphthongs. I took a linguistics class once. The only thing I really took away was that I liked to say the word diphthong. Diphthong. I had pockets of genius. Focus, Bremy. ‘But now you bring it up, I say that you will pay me back,’ Mr Pushkin said with a scary amount of certainty, ‘and I will tell you how Little Bremy … or should I say Little Chicken.’
My brow crinkled in confusion. Little Chicken? Little Chicken! I slapped my still crinkled forehead. ‘I hear you put on the big show.’
‘Oh, not really,’ I said, jumping up to pace the three steps of my apartment. ‘It was over pretty quick. I was actually pretty terrified the entire time and with good reason. Those women—’
‘Yes, terrified,’ he nearly shouted. ‘That is the ticket.’
I froze. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You see, Little Bremy. Underground wrestling is having tough time. Nobody believes it is real. The women they try to wear silly costumes and make the growls, but the terror, that is what the people want.’
I really did not like where this is going.
‘You, Little Bremy-Chicken, you gave the people the terror, and now, they want more.’
And there it was. Funny how you could still feel like throwing up without any food in your belly. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Mr Push—’
‘I have friend. He says you and I, we make big money for just little bit of your time.’
‘You and I?’ I asked, my eyes darting around my apartment, probably looking for a way out.
‘Yes, of course, Little Bremy, you need manager, otherwise you might have to do something you don’t want to do.’
I started to laugh, but it came out more as a sigh. ‘Really, Mr Pushkin, there has to be some other way I can pay you back.’
‘Of course. Sure, Little Bremy. There is other way you can pay me back,’ he said before pausing. He liked toying with me. ‘That way is with money. Right now. Otherwise I will have t—’
‘I know. I know!’ I spat out. ‘You’ll pull off my fingernails or eyelids or my freakin’ legs like some poor fly. I get it already!’
‘You sound upset, Little Bremy,’ he said in his sad voice. ‘Did date with pretty big man not go well?’
I sighed again. ‘Actually, it was okay. I mean we have some issues, but— Wait! How do you know he is pretty big man?’
‘What can I say? I worry,’ he said. ‘Now, you have money?’
‘No,’ I said with a pout I hadn’t used since prep school.
‘Then you fight. If you win, we make more money. You show terror first to make crowd happy, then you come back like the underwear.’
‘The underwear?’ My eyebrows met one another to confer. They were confused too. ‘Oh, I think you mean underdog.’
‘Yes, that is right. The underdog. You’re so helpful, Little Chicken.’ He sounded so happy that I imagined the skull in glass eye was grinning too. ‘Alright then. I see you Friday.’
‘Wait! Friday! I can’t Friday. I have this … thing!’ Friday was the night of the museum! Maybe I had lost Ryder, but I couldn’t lose Pierce too! Although … now my father wanted me at the museum, and that couldn’t be good. But I couldn’t leave Pierce to face whatever my father had planned all alone. I clutched my forehead with my free hand. I couldn’t be expected to think my way through all of this first thing in the morning!
Mr Pushkin’s voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Your match is at midnight. They save best for last. You have plenty of time, no?’
‘No!’
‘Bremy,’ he said with the warning of an apocalypse.
‘I mean, yes. I guess so.’
‘You’re like princess with glass slipper,’ Mr Pushkin said before his voice took on a sharp edge, ‘who rams spiked heel into opponent’s eye. It hurts. I know.’
I closed my eyes and shook my head. ‘I’m sure it does.’
‘Okay. See you Friday.’
‘Yeah, see y—’
‘Oh wait! Bremy!’
‘Yes?’
‘You had better go see Mr Raj. He is not very happy with you. I told him I help you make extra money, but he says he would like to have talk with you anyway.’
‘Great,’ I muttered. ‘Thanks.’
‘Okay, have good day.’
‘You have good day too.’ I flopped back on my bed, and let my head shake side to side in both wonderment and disgust. Well, on the bright side, at least I wasn’t dead. Then again, a girl can only say that so many times before it starts to feel a little empty.
***
An hour or four later, I woke up once again to the sound of my phone. I groaned.
I hadn’t meant to fall back asleep, but I was really tired—must have been all the trauma. I peeked one eye over to my phone and shot up from bed. Pierce!
Well, this was an unexpectedly delicious surprise.
‘Hello?’
‘Bremy, thank God! I’ve been going crazy trying to reach you. I must have called a hundred times yesterday. Your voicemail is full.’
‘Sorry, my phone was off.’
‘I came by your place, but I couldn’t get in, and the intercom doesn’t work.’
‘Yeah, we’ve got state-of-the-art security round here,’ I mumbled. ‘I’m sorry. Yesterday was kind of a weird day.’
‘So you saw the float?’
‘I was there.’
‘You were,’ he began. I could practically see his brain working, behind his cute little glasses, over the phone. ‘That was you … the person who threw herself in front of the float, wasn’t it?’ I did not like the slight sound of … what? Disappointment? Resignation? Sadness? Whatever it was, I did not like the sound of it in his voice.
I clicked my tongue. ‘Yep, that was me.’
He sighed. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Totally.’ It was hard to get the word out over all the pain and humiliation that was rolling its way back over me.
We were both silent for a moment. I guess throwing myself in front of a huge moving vehicle wasn’t exactly reassuring for Pierce, what with his whole fear of losing people issue.
‘Right,’ he said after a few more beats. ‘Well, I’m glad you’re okay.’
‘I am.’
Another heavy silence fell between us.
‘Has your father made any other contact with you?’
‘Well,’ I said, thinking about the invitation to the museum … the invitation I totally didn’t want to tell Pierce about in case he tried to stop me from going. I knew he’d still go. He’d have to get the story. Time to redirect. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Right,’ he said with another heavy sigh. He totally knew I was lying. Or at least not telling him everything. ‘I have news about Ryder. She was spotted last night.’
‘Oh, good for her.’
‘I …’ he trailed off, I guess waiting for me to explain, but I was in no mood. ‘Listen, Bremy, it’s starting to look like maybe Ryder isn’t well. She was literally shouting things from the rooftops, and skyscrapers, for that matter. Gibberish-type things.’
My hand flew to my head. ‘What?’
‘People are starting to think she’s … mentally unstable,’ Pierce said in his most careful voice.
‘Pierce … I gotta go.’
‘What? Why?’ he asked quickly. ‘What’s going on?’
‘This changes everything,’ I said. ‘But I don’t have time to talk right now. I’ll explain everything at the museum.’
‘Bremy, I—’
‘I really got to go.’
‘Okay, but Bremy?’
‘Yes?’ I asked, squeezing my eyes shut
‘Please be careful.’
‘Careful?’ I asked with a laugh. ‘Oh thank God, I thought you were going to break up with me again. No problem. I’m always careful. Mostly.’
‘Maybe more careful than usual?’
I exhaled. ‘I’ll try.’
‘I just …’
‘What?’
‘I just wish sometimes you were a little more … afraid.’
A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.
‘What?’
‘It’s nothing. It’s just … that’s really funny.’
‘Right,’ he said sharply. ‘Hilarious. Bye, Bremy.’
‘No Pierce, it’s funny because—’ But he had already hung up. I banged the phone against my forehead and whispered, ‘because I am scared … so scared. All the time.’