by Emilia Finn
“So you must go, Prima?” He gently grabs my other hand and tries to slow my steps. “We have barely had time to sit.”
“I’m so sorry. City Electric said something about my apartment being in danger of fire.”
“Ma’am?” I hear from the woman on the phone.
“Yes, I’m coming,” I snap. “Is your voice always that nasally, or do you have a cold?”
“You, young lady, are rude.”
“Evan… I’m sorry.”
“Prima, don’t go.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat and back away from him, heading toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when I’m on shift.”
“Prima!”
“That’s a weird pet name,” the woman on the phone drones. “Is he your creepy uncle, or what?”
“What?” I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the number. Shaking my head, I turn at the door, and bolt into the fancy foyer, and then the private elevator.
The doors begin closing just as Evan steps to the double wooden doors. His eyes lock onto mine, anger, suspicion, concern. But then the elevator doors seal me in, and I start descending.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you there?”
I bring the phone up to my ear. “Why are you still on the phone? I said I was coming.”
“Just wanted to make sure your creepy uncle would let you out after curfew. Can I get your ETA, ma’am?”
“My ETA?”
“How long until you’re there? Jesus. How hard are acronyms for you?”
“Excuse me? What kind of customer service troll are you? Since when do courtesy calls include sarcasm and rudeness?”
I dash out of the elevator when it stops, and skid my way past the bouncer and into the street.
Wait.
What the hell was I thinking? “Woman! I don’t have a car.”
“I could send a driver, if you like. The boys working the lines tonight are personal friends of mine. Cute. Handsome. Available.”
Cute and available? “Is this even real right now? What the hell?”
I turn away from the club and start the trek home. It’s only a matter of blocks, and I’m a local in these streets, which usually means we’re immune to the thugs and drive-by fuckery. But I’m also wearing shiny jewelry and a backless dress.
I tug my bangle off, slide it into my purse. Then the necklace. Then the watch I accidentally stole right off Evan’s wrist – I’m going to Hell – and tucking it all away, I pick up my speed and make fast time back toward my street.
“Is this a real call, lady? Because I feel like you might be punking me. Did my brother find out about my date, and this is his payback?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t know your brother. Is he cute?”
“Lady! What the hell is your problem?”
“What?” Her nasally voice seems to turn Brooklyn, with a side of Puerto Rican. “I’m only making conversation. My husband up and left me for this blonde bitch from Kentucky last month. It’s not even real blonde! And now you’re saying you have this cute big brother just hanging around doing nothing. Hell, why can’t I ask about him?”
“Because you’re a city worker on a courtesy call.”
“Oh. City workers not good enough for your gringa ass? Are you a racist, ma’am? Do we need to call my Tio Santiago to deal with this issue? Because if you don’t smarten up, maybe we’ll turn your power off for a whole week. And what happens when you have no power, lady?” Her voice turns louder. Screechier. “No coffee! And what happens when there is no coffee? Your poop schedule is thrown off! Next thing you know, your seven o’clock shit doesn’t happen until eleven. The next day, it happens at noon. Around and around you go until it’s three in the damn morning, and your body clock is screaming at you to wake the hell up and drop a log on the bathroom floor. And when you can’t get back to sleep, guess what you’re gonna wish you had?”
“Coffee?”
“Coffee! Thank you. Finally, we can agree on something. Listen, are you nearly home? Because there’s this show coming on TV soon, and I’d really like to catch it.”
“Why are you still talking to me?” I frown. “Our call should have ended five minutes ago.”
“You said you had no car,” she answers casually. “Means you’re walking home. I wanted to make sure you got there safe.”
“Oh… well… thanks, I guess.” I turn onto my street and head toward my apartment. There are no city trucks, no men working on the lines. “Are you… Um, I see my place.”
“Oh, good. Alright, ma’am, I just need you to head on in, and go to your fuse box. Once you’re there, let me know, and I’ll talk you through the next steps.”
“I thought you said there would be city workers here?”
“There were,” she brushes me off as I move up my front steps and unlock all three locks on the door. “But we all wanted to catch that show tonight, so they left, and now I’m the sucker missing out. Are you inside, ma’am?”
“Um… yes.” I step in, close the door at my back, and look around in search of… something. An emergency. A fire. Something to warrant this insane woman on the phone. “There’s nothing happening in here.”
“Well, of course not, silly. That’s why we called you. We’re all about being proactive here at City Electric. Lock up, please. And then let me know when you’re at the fuse box.”
“Um…” I turn and lock the door. “Okay. I’m walking to the box now. It’s in the kitchen.”
When I arrive, I study the ugly white rectangle that makes our wall look trashy. The casings are old. The white paint long ago smudged to dirty browns and blacks from workers’ hands in the past.
“Alright. I’m looking at it. What do I have to do?”
“Uh… hm…” It’s like I’ve caught her off guard. “Do you see the big thing with the on/off etched into it?”
“Uh…” I run the tips of my fingers along the fuses until I find the one that probably matches what she’s looking for. “Uh huh.”
“Awesome! Pull the lever, Kronk.”
“Um. It’s a switch. Not a lever.”
“Ugh, you totally ruined what I was going for. Fine,” she huffs. “Flick the switch.”
I do, sending my whole home descending into pitch darkness.
“Done.”
“Now switch it back on.”
I do.
“Now what?”
“That’s it! You’re the best student I’ve had all night. Those knobs who live next door didn’t even know where their fuse box was. We’re done here.”
“We are?”
“Sure are! Congratulations, young lady. Problem solved, which means you can stay inside for the rest of the night, and sleep safely knowing you won’t be waking tomorrow a charred raccoon.”
“If I was a charred raccoon, then I wouldn’t be waking, would I?”
“Hm?”
I smile. “Your logic is flawed, but nevermind. Problem solved? You promise?”
“With both pinkies. You and your cute brother are safe now. Sleep, sweet Victoria. And don’t go back out with the dude who calls you Prima. I’m older than you, I’ve taken a spin around the block a few times, and I’m telling you, any man that talks to you like that…” She makes an exaggerated shivering noise. “Bad news.”
“Uh… okay. Thanks, I guess. Goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight, miss. Sweet dreams.”
I bring the phone away from my ear with a frown, swipe my thumb across the screen to hang up, and, setting the device on the kitchen counter, I look around my empty apartment in what I think may be shock.
She stayed on the phone with me, as though she knew I’d be walking alone in a bad neighborhood. She was kind of funny, if I push aside the rude. She was witty, assuming that’s another word for ‘catty’.
But she got me inside, reminded me to lock the door, talked me through an odd power reset, and then she wished me goodnight and sweet dreams.
And through it all, I’m wearing a floor-length gow
n finer than any dress I’ve ever worn in my life.
That was the strangest phone call I’ve ever had in my life.
Jamie
We’re Working on a Crisis-by-Crisis Basis
“It’s time to go in, Soph.”
I cross my hotel room the morning after Quinn’s date with a psychopath, and push into the hall at a trot. Watch on, phone in my hand, wallet in my pocket, and hat on my head. I let the room door swing closed as I make my way toward the elevator. “She was out on a date with Evan McGrady, Soph! I refuse to let that happen twice.”
“What are you gonna do? Knock on her door and toss her over your shoulder?”
“If that’s what I have to do, then that’s what I have to do.”
“Are you jealous that she was on a date, Jamie? Or worried about her safety?”
“She was with a dude who has a pile of dead bodies at his feet!” I push into the elevator and jam my thumb against the button for the ground floor. “He’s not just any guy, Soph. He’s dangerous.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she singsongs. “Are you jealous, or concerned? Because those are two wildly different emotions.”
“I’m both!” I try to work through nervous energy by tapping my feet as the elevator doors close, and I start going down. “I’m allowed to be jealous. I’d be pissed no matter who the guy is. But he’s the guy, and he’s fucking crazy. So we need to get her out.”
“And how do you suggest we do that? Huh? That’s her job, kid. That’s her home, her life, she’s there with her brother, and until she finds the guy she’s looking for, I get the feeling she’s not going anywhere.”
“So…” I look around the mirrored lift in search of… something. Answers. Support. A fucking miracle. “We need to find who she’s looking for. We can help her, Soph. We could have helped her four years ago, if only she’d fuckin’ asked. In the meantime, she can’t be dating that motherfucker. It’s not safe.”
The moment the doors ding open, I meet Rupert’s eyes and blow past him.
“Sir?” He follows after me in surprise when I don’t stop. “Sir? Would you like a cab?”
“Yeah.” I turn to him for only a second. “A cab, please.” Then I bring my attention back to Soph. “I have to let her know I’m here. I can help.”
“If you show your face, she’s gonna run. We both know it. She’s sneaky, she’s fast, and she’s determined.”
“She’s also gonna get the wake-up call of her damn life when I see her next.” I step outside of the hotel into sunlight, and slide into a cab when Rupert holds the door for me.
“Sir.” He holds the door even when I try to close it, leans closer, and searches my eyes with his. “Please be safe, sir. I know that look you have in your eyes. I know it usually precedes something reckless.”
“I agree with Rupert!” Soph shouts through the phone. “You’re gonna do something stupid. And we’ve done too much work for you to undo it now with your impulsiveness.”
“I’m going to see her,” I tell them both. “I’m going to make sure she’s safe.”
“Oh no.” Rupert releases the door, and crosses his body like I’m already dead. “You were asking about Mr. McGrady,” he murmurs. “And now you’re searching for a woman.”
“It’s not like that.” I slam the door closed and glance through the window. “She’s fine. She’s safe. I know where she is.”
“Not with Mr. McGrady?”
“Nope. And I’m gonna make sure it stays that way. I’ll see you when I get back later today.”
I turn to the driver and give him the address a block away from Matt’s Meat, then I bring the phone up to my ear. “Soph? Can you see me?”
“Yes,” she grumbles. “I see your dot moving. I still think you’re jumping too soon.”
“It’s been four years. I’ve waited.” I glance out the window as we pass building after building. At first, the buildings are high-end fashion, clothes, shoes, bags. Then as we get further away, heels turn to cars, and then cars turn to lumberyards. “I’m done waiting, Soph. I can’t do it anymore.”
“And if she runs?” she questions. “If you go in there, and she panics, are you willing to lose another four years? Because I think we have to be prepared for that eventuality.”
“I won’t let her run.” I stare out into the street and chew on the inside of my cheek. “I can’t let it happen. I can’t let her go.”
“Ya know, most normal guys just get themselves a new girlfriend by this point.”
“Guess I’m not normal, then.” I take out my wallet as the cab pulls up to the curb in the shitty side of town. I press cash to his waiting palm, thank him for the ride, then I slide out and step onto the sidewalk. “If, after all this time, I still can’t let go, then it’s probably a sign that there’s something there that shouldn’t be let go of. I’m gonna find out what that thing is.”
“I’m just looking out for you, fighter. She wasn’t kidnapped, and she knew where you were all along, so that means that she could have come back to you. She didn’t. She chose to stay away.”
“Yeah,” I grunt through the pain her words slash through my heart. “I appreciate your words of comfort. It feels good to be so loved and missed.”
“You know she misses you,” she sighs. “She said she’s hurting. I’m just saying…” She hesitates. “Fuck it. Forget I said anything.”
“Would you move on if Jay left you?”
“No.”
“Even after four years?”
“No. I wouldn’t move on. Like I said, forget I said anything. You’re nearly there. Got your game face on?”
“I’ve got a face on. Fuck knows what it looks like.”
“Bit like you sucked on a lemon,” she snickers. “Stand tall, smile. You’re about to see her face to face for the first time in four years.”
“Jesus.” I bring a hand up to my chest and cross the last intersection before Matt’s Meat. “I’m nervous. I didn’t expect to be, but I kinda wanna puke.”
“I’m gonna tell you right now; if you puke on her studio floor, even if it’s not really her premises, she’s gonna whoop your ass and make you clean it with your tongue. Dancefloors are sacred, fighter. Don’t fuck with it.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it. I’m here.” I slow my steps just a couple doors up from the studio. Walking closer to the street so I can peek into windows, I stretch my neck and try to catch sight of her before I burst in unannounced. It would be embarrassing if I did the Kool-Aid Man thing, only to find an empty studio.
“She’s in there,” I breathe when I catch sight of her by the mirrors. She spins, checks, spins, checks. She’s facing my direction, but focused on her work, so she doesn’t notice me. “Jesus, Soph. She’s right here.”
So close.
So unbelievably close.
“I should probably go ‘round back and puke first.”
Soph only laughs. “I think it’s cute that you’re so nervous.”
“It’s not cute.”
“It totally is. This young love thing is adorable. Jay and I never really did that. We didn’t date, or do the nerves thing. We just… ya know. Jumped on in.”
“There’s a word for that, you know? Starts with wh…”
She snorts. “I’m not ashamed. When you know, you know.”
“Yeah.” I draw a deep breath, and let it out on a gusty exhale. “When you know, you know.”
“I guess that means you should go on in. She has classes starting in a little while, and you’re gonna want a minute with her before that.”
“If I come during class, she’s less likely to bolt out the back door.”
“If you come during class, she could mistake your approach as an attack on the children. Don’t fuck with the babies, Kincaid. She’ll go hard, trust me.”
“Okay. Fine.”
I fill my chest once more, like I’m stepping into the octagon and not a dance studio. Oxygenate my body, fill it with adrenaline, prepare for battle.
&nb
sp; “Go!”
“Yeah, okay.” I exhale and start moving toward the studio doors. “I’ll call you later.”
“Good luck!” Soph’s shouted words are the last thing I hear before I pull the cell from my ear and slide it into my pocket.
My arm smarts each time I forget to be mindful of its movements, but it’s not so bad today. Time away from training is slowly helping it heal.
When I can’t possibly procrastinate a moment more, I broaden my shoulders, stand taller, then I push through the studio door so fast that the metal frame slams against the wall and makes Cam jump with fright.
She spins with a gasp, lifts her leg as though to snatch a blade from her sock – an ingrained habit, I think, considering she’s currently barefoot and in a leotard – then her eyes meet mine, and the blood drains from her face.
Music continues to play, loud, thumping, intoxicating, but Quinn merely stares in shock, her face ghostly white, her chest shuddering as she struggles to catch her breath.
I lift a single brow, glance back to the door, then to her, and fold my arms. “Victoria Quinnton.” I emphasize the realest part of her fake last name, and take a little thrill in the way she somehow turns paler. “Tori…” I remain exactly where I am, and study her luscious body, her long legs – the very first thing I ever noticed about her – her bow lips, and cat eyes. “It’s been so long.”
“Oh my god,” she murmurs.
I expected rage, since she’s so good at that… maybe confusion, terror. But I didn’t expect for her eyes to fill and sparkle with tears.
“Oh no,” she whispers.
“Prima…?”
I turn at the voice to my right, the scuff of shoes on a dusty dancefloor, and meet the eyes of a killer.
Victoria
Confrontation
My heart pounds so hard that I’m not sure it’s not a prelude to death. My head whooshes from the surge of adrenaline that slams inside my blood. Black dots sparkle in my peripherals, but I have to remain standing. Calm. Collected. And I have to get Jamie Fucking Kincaid out of my dance studio right now, before Evan realizes I know him intimately.