by Yuriko Hime
Mimosa Pudica. No readers, that wasn't a spell you'd learn from the school of wizardry. It was the scientific name for the Shy Plant, and yes there really was a plant. Google it. Found in Central and South America, as well as Asia, this plant had a unique ability to fold inward or clam up when touched. Maybe it was a defense mechanism. Maybe it was really shy. Or maybe someone had cast a spell or voodoo on it like the doll sitting on my bed. Whatever it was, I was like that plant whenever Lynx was thought about or discussed as of late. I wanted to fold inside myself because of conflicted thoughts.
"That's rubbish," I said. "I'm not depressed, especially over that. . . That person. It's a stroke of creativeness I'm having." Sitting up, I gestured to the laptop. "Creating something impressive takes time. You can't expect a researcher to be always on the field. Moments like this are needed too." I massaged Lulu's shoulder. "Don't worry about me. Everything's perfect."
"You sure?"
My smile was confident. "Why wouldn't it be?" I said. And I believed myself. Why would I let anyone affect me anyway? That wasn't my nature. Scotland was strong. Scotland was a whole new league altogether. Scotland was in denial, a small voice said. Absolutely not. "Scoot." I pushed the doll to Lulu's chest and shooed her away. "I have things to do. I'll come out to play when it's all done."
"Call your mom," she reminded over her shoulders while heading to the door. I cringed. Sure would.
The website generated a buzz from the online community hours after I created it. The credit wasn't all mine. It also helped that Joe and her girlfriend spread the news to their friends when I texted them for assistance. Dozens of messages went to the comment box. More after that. Like a mad scientist who had unlocked her creation to the world, I laughed silently in my bedroom.
Afternoon the same day, I knew I struck gold when a single message among the then hundreds caught my attention. It belonged to a person whose username was 'Ace,' and had a capital 'A' for an avatar. 'This is a swell concept,' she commented on a picture. For such a short sentence, she'd amassed lots of likes and replies. Nothing said popularity in a world of social status than getting that kind of response.
Taking my phone, I dialed Joe's number and skipped the greetings when she answered. "Who's this Ace person and how do I get hold of her?" I said.
"I'm sorry. What?"
I switched the phone to my other ear. "A woman replied in my website," I said, containing my excitement. "The one I told you to spread the news about. Anyway, the woman, assuming she's one, is called Ace. I want to interview her. Do you have a number I can call?"
A long pause from Joe. "I think I know who you're referring to, but I don't have her contact details. She's like Lynx." The mention of her name poked small holes on my lungs. I shrugged the awful feeling away. "What I meant to say was Ace is an alpha," Joe went on. "Not everyone has her number. She only gives it to girls she's interested in."
"Why haven't I seen her in the Midnight Cafe before?" I asked.
"She hangs out with a different crowd. She's also out of the way. If you're going to interview her, you have to drive like an hour to get to their spot. But it will be worth it for your research. Trust me." Hmm. I drummed my fingers on the laptop's keyboard. "That aside, I heard you and Lynx are dating," Joe said. "Is that true?"
"Where did you get that silly idea?" I realized that I've been picking on the Enter key. I folded my hand on my lap.
"Everyone who went to the party at The Cove are talking," she answered. "I'm sorry if Sasha and I weren't there. We had an emergency. Anyway, people are jealous. Some of them have been trying to get Lynx's attention for years."
The reflection on my laptop screen showed that I was glowering, so I smoothed my face. "We're not dating," I clarified. "I'm not friends with her either, so I'll appreciate it if you tell them to drop the gossip and concentrate on their pathetic lives rather than minding mine." This was why people couldn't advance. They spent too much time looking at their neighbor's gardens than watering their own.
"Okay," she said reluctantly. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Good luck with your research."
"You've been a great help to me, Joe. Thanks."
I stared at my phone for what seemed like a good minute before tossing it away. Back to the task at hand. If Joe couldn't provide me a number, I'd have to contact Ace directly. 'Hey,' I typed on the private message box. 'This is Scotland, the admin for the website. Mind if I do an interview?'
While waiting for her reply, I sorted the 'About me' section on the site, telling people who I was and the goal of the study I was making. After thinking twice, I erased the 'Roth' and only retained 'Scotland' on the profile. That would make the results more authentic, and besides, didn't I say that I wouldn't get my parents help? So far I've managed to do it on my own.
A message bubble appeared on the lower right of my screen. I pulled it up and was delighted to see that Ace had responded. 'Sure thing, doll,' she said. 'I've read your info. Where should we do the interview? I prefer if it's face to face.'
'What a coincidence,' I typed. 'I was about to ask you the same thing. There's a meeting at the Midnight Cafe tonight, if you know the place. If you can't make it there because of location or schedule problems, I'll come to you.' Sent.
She replied fast. 'I was meaning to drop by the neighborhood anyway. A friend said the coffee there is good. See you at 2am? I'll be the Aussie girl with a funny accent.'
I was about to tell her what I looked like when I remembered that I placed my picture on the profile section. 'Will be there,' I typed.
Lulu glanced up from her phone when I came to the kitchen. She had a small bowl on her lap, the remains of the salad all but gone except for a slice of tomato. She'd eaten dinner by herself again. I should do something about that after the interview with Ace. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel neglected. "Don't tell me you're going out," she said, putting the bowl on the table in front of her.
I tucked the recorder in my pocket. "As a matter of fact, I am. Want to tag along?"
"Nah, I'm doing something important. Make sure you have your keys with you." With Lulu, something important meant she was probably locking herself in the room, lighting candles, and mumbling strange chants she learned from her spell books or the internet. I kissed her forehead on my way out. "Don't stay out too late," she said.
My mood was sky high while I drove from the house to the cafe. A hot cup of coffee would be waiting for me there. The ambiance would be sublime. The interview would run smoothly. Was I forgetting something? My mind came up blank. On to the cafe then.
Being one of the first to get there, I was able to grab a cup and settle on a table not far from the door. It was the best place for Ace to see me. At one o'clock, the customers rushed in, bringing their friends or dates for the night. I was used to it, so instead of fussing, I spent the extra time reading an article on my phone about the culture in other countries.
It wasn't even two o'clock when a girl slid on the seat I reserved, saying, "Good evening, Scotland. Your picture doesn't do you justice, just so you know." I glanced up to an androgynous-looking person. If I didn't know any better, I'd have trouble telling what her gender was based on her face alone. She had a unique bone structure that was soft at some places, masculine in others. She also had a surfer hair and was wearing a plaid shirt that was a size larger, making her harder to decipher. If there was one thing I was sure of, she was a beautiful creature.
"I can say the same to you," I replied with a smile. "You must be Ace." We shook hands.
Discounting the fact the everyone must be looking at me and whoever I was with, again, I could see why people would be drawn to Ace. She was confident as she leaned back on the chair with an air of 'My time is important, but so is yours. That's why we jive.' Her eyes didn't leave my face as if she found me more fascinating than anyone in the room. It was a nice trick to hook a girl. Who was to say that I wasn't taking notes for my study?
"What do you want to interview me about?" she said,
her Aussie accent edging at the end of the question.
I showed her my recording device. "I'll be using this from now on if you don't mind." I hit the record when she nodded. "You've been through my website, so I'm confident that you know how I go about this. To be specific, I want to get the opinion of someone who is so popular within your community. A friend told me that people like you are rare, not that I'm putting you on a pedestal. But I think it would add a nice touch if we were to hear your voice among the LGBT."
Ace was all ears. "Sure, but before that, can I be honest with you for a second?"
"Honesty is the foundation of my study. Go ahead." I motioned for her to continue.
She pushed her elbows on the table, her gaze drifting to my lips. "The real reason I agreed was because I was drawn to your face. I'm not shallow or anything." She gave a hearty laugh. "But how can someone so intelligent be this beautiful?"
"I know right?" a low, awfully familiar voice said. Both of us turned to see Lynx standing beside the table, head lowered to us. There was no redness on her eyes anymore, only a stormy blue green that I couldn't comprehend.
Ace was put-off with being interrupted. She regarded Lynx coolly. "I'm Ace. And you are?"
Lynx offered a hand. "Scotland's fiance. A pleasure to meet you." When Ace didn't acknowledge her, Lynx turned to me. "You left in such a hurry on our date, baby. My grandma was worried."
Warm flush crept on my cheeks. What was she thinking? I pinched my eyes at her. She might have ruined that day for me, but not this one. "We'll talk later. I have an interview with my subject," I said.
"Don't be mad at me anymore," Lynx said softly. I did a double take on her. She did not just use that tone on me. Lynx knew exactly what she was doing when she tugged me from the chair and stared hard at Ace. She delivered everything in that one look- back off. "I'm sorry to cut this interview short, but I need to get my fiance. We have an unfinished business to settle."
Chapter 16
Lynx kept a firm grip on my arm as she lead me out of the cafe towards the back alley. The open trashcan not far from where she stopped overflowed with yesterday's dump. I covered my nose from the stench. "I doubt you took me here to hookup," I said. "Whatever you're going to say, make it fast. Ace is an important subject. I don't want to keep her waiting."
Lynx loomed closer, wavy hair swinging. I had a confession to make. There was a certain charm in raising her hackles. It brought out the fierceness in her eyes and the tightening of her jaw. The animalistic reaction called out to my primal instinct. I felt satisfaction in knowing that I did that to her. "You've upset my grandmother," she said. "Didn't I tell you not to do that? You have to make up for it. For everything."
The weight of her anger didn't matter to me. "Wouldn't that be easier for both of us?" I said. "She'll support you when you make up excuses about canceling the engagement and breaking up with me. Be creative. You can color me as the bad guy if you want. I won't mind." She turned more crimson with each word. I put a finger just below the hollow of her neck. "Unless of course you still want to continue pretending. You've fallen in love with me for real, haven't you? I bet you even stopped my interview with Ace because you were jealous."
Lynx removed my hand from her neck. "My opinion still stands about you," she said. "You're highly conceited."
The sting of her rejection annoyed me like a pesky mosquito bite. It was oh so tempting to squash her. She'd been the only one to do this. Nevertheless, I kept a straight face and a square shoulder. "I'm sorry you feel that way," I said. "You can line up along the other people I don't give a darn about. What you call conceited, I call self-love. Excuse me while I go back to my interviewee. I have a better chance succeeding in my project with her than I have with you. Farewell."
Chin high. Back nimrod. That was the only way to show her that I wasn't affected by her insults. The intense aroma of coffee bean inside minimized my irritation and invigorated my mood. Enough about Lynx. I turned to the table. The Aussie charmer was missing. "My apologies for interrupting your conversation, ladies," I said to the occupants of the next table. "Have you seen the woman sitting there a while ago? Surfer hair, easy smile, plaid shirt. Her name is Ace."
The name I gave matched the description. One of the girls I asked blushed. "You missed her. She left like a minute or so ago." I was examined with a glance. "Aren't you the girl speaking with her though? And you were with Lynx too. It must be cool to be beautiful like you."
Yes it did, dear, but I was hardly paying attention to her. My eyes were on Lynx, standing outside, smirking at me like she knew what happened. I stormed out of the cafe, into her hatefully deceiving company.
"This is all your fault," I accused. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone like Ace? I can't do this interview with emails or video calls. That's not how you conduct research. I need authenticity. She probably thinks I'm a jerk for inviting her here and brushing her off. She won't give me another shot." Lynx crossed her arms. She had to take responsibility for her actions. She needed to find me another person. She. . . I smiled like a bloodthirsty hound. "You'll give me the interview in her stead."
"No." Her answer was firm.
"Why not?" I circled her slowly, looking at her chest, her face, her assets. "You fit the bill. More than Ace, I have to admit." And the interview would give me more information about her. "You have to replace my alpha. That's the humane, the responsible thing to do."
She shifted to follow my every move. "And you think you were being humane when you blew the sand on my eyes?" she said. "My grandmother saw everything. It wasn't easy to explain why my fiance would do that, and I don't like lying to her. My answer would be a solid no."
I stopped on my tracks. "What if I go to your grandma and apologize? Do a repeat? Make her happy? You have to give me a yes then."
Lynx tilted her head to one side, considering. There was nothing to consider about, really. It would both work in our favor. It didn't take long for her to curl her lips with icy contempt. "See me tomorrow afternoon at the park," she said. "I'll tell you what to do. Be in your best behavior."
I was in a festive mood going back home. The muscles around my mouth haven't ached this much from smiling. It was true what they said. There was a solution to every problem. Lulu's bedroom door was closed when I came up the stairs. I knocked to see if she was still awake. "I'm back. How are you?"
"Still alive," she said, her voice muffled. "How did the interview go?" I thought better than to go in and tell her every single detail on the bed. Last time I did that, she was in her underwear prancing around the room. Not that I had any qualms at seeing her like that. It was the bottles and books littering the floor that I found peculiar. Whatever she was on to was best locked inside. It was one of the golden rules that made our friendship survive.
"It went unexpectedly well," I said. "There was a slight miscalculation, but it will sort itself out. Should I go to sleep or do you need my company for the night?"
"Go to sleep," she said. "This won't take long."
My laptop was loaded with unread messages when I booted it. 'You didn't mention that you were Lynx's girlfriend,' Ace said in one. 'I've heard of her, but haven't actually met the girl. This changes things.' Changed how? Relationship or not, it had nothing to do with my fact-finding. I wrote her a long reply of how sorry I was, explaining that Lynx was in need of my counsel, and she should forget what she heard about the grandma. At dawn, I finally hit the sack.
Lynx was alone when I came to the park the next day, hand tucked in her jeans pocket, expression inscrutable as she hawked-watched couples walking on the grass. "Where's grandma?" I asked, coming beside her. The expectation was they'd both be here like last time. I handed Lynx the flowers I bought. The florist said that carnations, orchids, and hyacinths were the best variety for apology, so I made sure to get a couple of them for grandma. The combination turned out strikingly vibrant because of the colors.
Lynx inspected the flowers before lowering her hand. She didn't say
anything about it, but the subtle glimmer in her eyes was enough to tell me that it was appreciated. "Grandma's back at the hotel," Lynx said. "She doesn't like staying in my place. She said it's too stuffy." I was briefly disappointed by the revelation. We could have gone to Lynx's lair if grandma wasn't so choosy. "We'll take my car."
It didn't come as a surprise that it was the taxi she was talking about.
"How is it exactly that you can afford such luxuries?" I said later, stunned that she parked at The Peacock Inn, a hotel that dated back to the 18th century. Lulu and I have discussed about it when we were new in town. It would have been nice to sleep there if we didn't have a house already. Casper would throw tantrums if he were to find out that we were planning on squandering the family money on ridiculous things, as if $1000 or so a night would bankrupt the Roth's.
What stopped me was the thought of the impoverished children. Because of them, I was always caught between, 'Live your life a little. It's not your fault they're like that,' and 'Don't be a selfish prick. Do something to help the world with that money.' If it was only that easy. Daddy believed in the saying 'Give a man a fish, you will feed him for the day. Teaching him how to fish, however, would feed him and his family for a lifetime.' We couldn't just hand out the money. We had to create jobs.
Lynx answered my question from earlier. "When you value someone, you give her everything. Price tags are secondary."
"That's why you're working odd jobs?" I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.
"That's for me to know," she said.
Grandma's hotel room had its velvet curtains drawn and the king size bed made. A hint of citrus lingered in the air, not from any fruit, but from expensive perfume. The old woman had good taste. "I'm back with Scotland," Lynx said. Her announcement was met with silence. "Grandma?" She checked in the bathroom, and a minute later, backtracked near the bed with a furrow on her brows, showing me a piece of paper. On it was an elegant loop of writing informing us that grandma had taken a stroll. She was in a wheelchair and looked about 85. Was that safe? "She does this all the time," Lynx said with a shake of her head.