by J. J. McAvoy
Ring.
Ring.
It was Esther—her twelfth call already, and it wasn’t even 3:00 p.m. yet.
Silencing the phone, I threw it into my purse and watched the scenery pass by me, the New York City yellow taxis lined up near hotels and bars, already waiting desperately for fare. Meanwhile, others either biked or ran by. Most people on the Upper East Side, such as myself, used private cars or the occasional Uber.
“How long are you staying, ma’am?” my driver questioned.
“One day. I’ll be down shortly,” I responded as he pulled to a stop up in front of a tan-colored brick townhouse on the corner of Mayor and 3rd Street.
As I stepped out, a gust of wind scattered my hair. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my fitted gray coat. After pushing open the gate and climbing the stairs, I pressed the doorbell.
“Coming!” I heard a man’s voice yell alongside a dog’s barking. A few seconds later, the door peeled open, and I smiled when he stared at me, perplexed.
“Amelia?”
“Hey there. Mind if I come in?”
He stepped to the side, and the very first thing I saw on his floor was a tall white robotic dog with blue eyes that tilted its head down upon seeing me.
“He recognizes you as friend and wants you to pet him,” Sheldon said from behind me.
“What happened to Rosy?” I asked, placing the palm of my hand on the top of the dog’s head.
“She died three years ago,” he stated, leading me to his living room. It was covered in robotics, wires, and tools. He quickly tried to clean off a seat for me. “Sorry for the mess.”
“No, it’s fine. Your trailer was like this, too, when we were young.” I didn’t sit, instead moving to the fireplace. On either side of it, his walls were littered with degrees.
Master of Science in Robotics Technology
Doctor of Philosophy (Ph.D.) in Robotics
Doctor of Computer Engineering Technology
Master of Technology Software Development
All from, of course, M.I.T, and he was only thirty. Sheldon Worcester was the smartest man I knew.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
“I need your help,” I said turning to face him. His brown eyes were glued to me. It was hard to describe Sheldon because he was always changing. When we were younger, he was truthfully annoying as fuck, always having to prove he knew it all. But as the years went by, he mellowed out slightly. He had wavy, honey brown shoulder-length hair and a short beard over his pronounced jaw that, added to his height, made him looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ.
“You need my help?” he repeated, sitting on the arm of his chair.
Sighing, I nodded. “Noah was arrested.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he scoffed bitterly. “The first time we see each other in what, five years? And you’re here for none other than Noah fucking Sloan.”
Apparently he still wasn’t over the fact that I could never love him the way he wanted me to. Instead, I had told him that I saw him as a brother. After that, we tried to keep in touch, but he told me he couldn’t, not when I saw him that way. He said he would wait for me. That when I got over Noah, to come and find him. I hated doing this to him now, but I had no other choice.
“Don’t think of it as a favor for Noah,” I said.
“But it is. What did I hear this morning? He got arrested after going crazy and beating some big wig—”
“He didn’t go crazy.” At least not in the sense that he was talking about. “That big wig, Ray Mallory, tried to rape me. Noah stopped him before he got that far.”
“He did what?” he said, standing up slowly.
“I’m not sure which ‘he’ you are referring to,” I said.
“You were almost assaulted last night in Chicago, and now you’re here for Noah? Did you even go to the hospital, Amelia?” He reached for me, but I took a step back.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Noah is the one in jail.”
His hand balled into a fist, dropping before it reached me. “If it was self-defense, he’ll get out—”
“If?” I snapped, my eyes narrowing at him. “In all the years you have known me, Sheldon, with all the creeps, stalkers, and perverts I’ve met, have I ever cried wolf when there wasn’t a wolf?”
“Shit, no. I didn’t mean that way,” he backpedaled.
I could feel the headache coming backing. Reaching up, I pressed on my temple.
“Why don’t you sit down—”
“Sheldon,” I cut him off, standing tall again. “I came here because you are the only person I know who can help me with this, as quickly as possible. Apparently Chicago is as corrupt as the movies make it seem. Noah isn’t being treated fairly, because the man he went up against is a Mallory. I always thought Ray was just a former rock star, but what I didn’t know is that he comes from old money. Most of his family are either judges, politicians, or CEOs that make up the Chicago elite. There is a wall around this son of a bitch. He assaulted me, and then had the balls to call me this morning, explaining how I’m out of my league for trying to go up against him. He may be right. But I’m not going to stop trying. I know there is bad blood between you and Noah. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you the way that you loved me, but hope I’m still someone important enough for you to help.”
Reaching up, I wiped away my tears quickly.
“What do you need?” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a deep breath.
He nodded, getting up and grabbing his laptop from the coffee table. “I’m guessing you need me to hack into something, but that’s pretty much all I can do.”
“Yes. Everyone has dirt, Ray included. If you can dig it up, I could use it as leverage.”
“Someone like him most likely has a person covering up for him.”
I had thought so, too. But as I said, “Whoever he has is no match for you.”
Noah
Revenge.
It was the plot device for the best works in all of literature. In Shakespeare’s work, he displays the wickedness of revenge, how it blinds the bearer and causes greater misfortune for those seeking it, in the end. Just like in The Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, Richard II, King Lear…the list goes on.
I often wondered what would become of us all if we never sought vengeance? Wouldn’t we all just become victims, cursing our own lives till we died? I couldn’t live that life. There was rage growing within me for every injustice.
Just like this one.
“Lunchtime, Mr. Sloan,” the guard said as he slipped me a tray of what had to be dog food with a cup of Jell-O and a water bottle on the side. He pushed it through the slot so hard that it crashed to the floor in a disgusting mess. “Sorry about that. We ain’t the Four Seasons, so you’ll have to wait until we can whip up something else.”
“Thanks,” I said, picking up the water bottle as it rolled to me. “I appreciate it.”
The guard snickered, his chest puffed up as he walked away, muttering something to the effect of how he almost pitied a poor fuck like me.
I wanted to tell him to keep his pity. Sitting up, I drank slowly, the only words coming to my mind being, “Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, and makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.”
The people Amelia and I were turning into…it was their fault, and there was no undoing it.
Chapter Six
Amelia
The flight from New York back to Chicago took just under two hours. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. Every time I did, I saw Ray, that look in his eye as he attacked me, and a chill went up my spine. I knew without a doubt that if it weren’t for Noah, he wouldn’t have stopped.
Just as I had thought, Ray was squeaky-clean, which was more of a red flag than a deterrent. Ten hours into Sunday morning, Sheldon dug, searching for anything to pin to this son of a bitch, and he still found nothing. I c
ould feel the panic setting in.
Stay calm, Amelia, and think.
“Ms. London?” A flight attendant on the private jet I was on came up to me. “We’ve landed, ma’am.”
Snapping out of my trance, I glanced outside to see we had in fact landed. I grabbed my purse from the seat beside me.
“Thank you,” I said to the pilot as the door opened for me, the sun now high in the sky. An unfamiliar white Audi was parked waiting for me. Standing in front of me was six feet of muscle in a black suit.
“Ms. London?” he said, as if anyone would be coming out of the jet besides me.
“Who are you?”
“Just a driver. My employer would like to speak with you.”
“Then you your employer should go through my agent like everyone else,” I said¸ crossing my arms.
He smirked, moving over to the door. “We’ve already called your agent—Mr. Cole, or Ollie, he said you call him—don’t worry. You’ll get home safe and sound.”
Eyeing him carefully, I moved to the door, sliding in. When he opened it, to my shock, casually sitting in the other seat was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She wore a short white cocktail dress, her black hair pulled to the side, with red lipstick and a pair of silver Christian Louboutin pumps I was sure didn’t come out for another three months. There was a large diamond on her finger.
“Welcome to Chicago, Ms. London.” She looked up from her phone, her brown eyes more than amused. “I’m Melody Callahan.”
“I’m confused right now.”
“Then allow me clarify. I’m here to help.”
“To help?” I repeated.
She nodded, reaching beside her to retrieve an oversized yellow envelope. She handed it to me, and I stared at it for a moment before breaking the seal. Pictures and videos poured out of it like a piñata—all of them of Ray Mallory and some woman, and in none of them did she seem happy to be in his arms.
“Mr. Mallory has become a growing annoyance that I’ve tolerated for too long, and now his incompetence is creeping up to my door,” she said, her voice strong. She pointed at the envelope. “You can have that. In exchange, I need a name from you.”
My head was spinning again.
“A name?”
“The person you had breaking my firewalls for the last ten hours. And please, before you tell me you don’t know, remember I’m the one who just picked you up returning from New York…the same place I was able to track the server to. However, I need their name.”
I didn’t know who the hell she was. I wasn’t heartless enough to sell out my friend. Stuffing the photos and tapes back into the envelope, I handed it her.
“Yes. It was me, but I’m not giving up my friend to someone random woman in the back of an Audi.”
“Random,” she snickered to herself at that. “Amelia, what I’m offering you is a ‘get out of hell free’ card. I promise you I’m not going to hurt your friend. I just need their skills. When we reach the news station, my offer and this ride expire. In all honesty, you shouldn’t care who the hell you have to give up if means saving your lover. That is what you want to do, isn’t it?”
I stared at her. “If I start sacrificing people around me, what makes me better than the same people that hurt me?”
“Why do you need to be better than them? Smarter, I can understand, but better?” She relaxed, crossing her legs with ease. “If you want to be the better person, that’s fine, but you need to understand that you will always be someone one else’s bitch. A bitch with good morals, but a bitch nonetheless, Amelia. To kill a lion, you can’t be another lion, you’ve got to be the motherfucker with the gun. You can’t have it both ways. So I’ll ask you one more time: do you want save your lover and get revenge, or do you want be loyal to your friend?”
There was something about her that scared the shit out of me. Maybe it was how easily she told me give up my morals, or maybe it was the fact that she phrased it in such a way that I seemed crazy not to accept her offer.
“Just promise me that you won’t hurt him. He’s brilliant, and he doesn’t deserve it.” I wasn’t an idiot. You couldn’t dig up this much dirt on Mallory and still be a person who accepted ‘no’ for an answer.
She smiled. “I promise. I will not hurt him, or anything like that.”
“Five seconds, Ms. London.”
“His name is Sheldon Worcester,” I confessed.
Grinning wickedly, she lifted the envelope up to me, saying, “You have an interview this afternoon with Stephanie MacAdams. When it’s over, take a moment and enjoy the feeling. Felix.”
She directed the last part to the driver up front who immediately stepped out to open the door for me. When I got out, I stood right in front of the NQB News building.
“Have a good day, Ms. London,” the man said to me as he entered the car. Without another word, they drove off just as quickly they came into my life.
“Amelia.” Ollie got my attention as we stood in front of the building. Beside him was Keri, dressed now in dress pants and a collared shirt. “What happened to you? The private jet in New York said you weren’t at the airfield when they waited to pick you up. Then all of the sudden, I get a message from you that you have an interview with Stephanie MacAdams and to bring Keri? What is going on?”
I froze, my brain trying to connect the dots. All I could do was turn to look back in the direction in which they had driven off. Since I got on the jet, something felt odd, but I was too exhausted to care at the time. Ollie had struggled to get me a plane coming back and told me I was going to have to wait. However, when I got to the airfield, one was already waiting. Not only that, but it was far more luxurious than I was used to.
“Amelia?” Keri said, stepping in front of me. “You look exhausted right now. Whatever this is, maybe you should wait—”
“No,” I said, cutting her off and walking around them and into the glass skyscraper.
“Amelia, you’re starting to scare me. I have no clue what’s going on with you anymore. You’re being far too reckless right now,” Ollie whispered, and I couldn’t argue. I was starting to scare myself, but I couldn’t stop.
“Amelia London for Stephanie MacAdams?” I said to the receptionist.
“Of course. We’ve been expecting you,” she said, handing us all badges as she got up from her seat. “I’ll take you to the green room so that you can get ready.”
“Thank you,” I said, following her.
“No problem. Mrs. MacAdams says this is top priority. We’ve taken the liberty of getting you a makeup artist and a change of clothes since this is all very last minute,” she explained, pushing open the white door to reveal a rack of clothes and two women sitting on the couch drinking coffee.
I didn’t even have time say anything as she left, and one of the women led me to a chair in front of the mirror.
“Amelia, I think now is the time you clue me in on what you are about to say on national television, don’t you think?” Keri whispered, leaning up against the countertop.
Finally releasing the grip on the envelope in my hands, I handed it to her. She paused for a second just like I had. Before opening it, she peeked in first, her eyes widening as she pulled out the contents.
“Where? How?” she questioned.
“Do you know who Melody Callahan is?” The moment I said her name, you would have thought I had kissed Satan in church with the look of fear that spread over the faces of everyone but Ollie and myself. The stylist almost dropped the clothes in her hand before recovering and trying to pretend she heard nothing. Same with the makeup artist, who was busy blending something on the side of her hand.
“You’re friends with Melody Callahan?” Keri whispered.
“I’m not sure I would call us friends,” I said. I had only just met her ten minutes ago, after all. “Again, who is she?”
“Basically the queen of Chicago…she just gave this to you?” Keri asked.
She didn’t just give me anything.
I’m pretty sure I sold my soul. But I couldn’t say that because it gave me goosebumps. Plus, the look on Ollie’s face bothered me.
“Yeah. Pretty much,” I lied.
“Ray Mallory must have gotten on her bad side,” she whispered to herself, staring down at the photos in front of her. “Fight a queen, and you lose your head.”
The way she spoke about her, this Melody Callahan, made me a little envious. I wondered what it was like to be so important that everyone in the city not only knew and revered you, but never wanted to cross you, either. I guess that was the difference between queens and celebrities: queens get shit done.
Today, I failed. I wanted to help Noah on my own, thinking I could just stomp around and everything would fall into place. It was naïve and prideful of me. I did learn a lesson I’d never forget.
The makeup and getting dressed passed by in a blur. I had one thing left to do, one last part to play, and I could only focus on that. Even as Keri tried her best to prep me on short notice, I couldn’t think of anything else right now.
“Ms. London, we are ready for you.” A man peeked into the dressing room.
Nodding, I sat up, brushing the black high-waisted skirt I wore and making sure every button, with the exception of the top one, was closed as I headed toward the door. Outside, the sound manager attached a microphone to the collar of my shirt. I was led down a dimly lit corridor that opened up to the large set, the back of which was nothing but a large screen currently displaying the Chicago skyline.
Quietly, they sat me in a chair just as the screen changed, and I watched, in horror and rage, as I appeared on the screen in Ray’s study, trying to fight him off me, his hand on my throat, forcing me to kiss him. I then watched Noah grab him, pulling him off me and punching him in the face.
“What you are looking at is newly obtained video of former child star Amelia London being assaulted by none other than Chicago socialite Ray Mallory. She is later rescued by fellow child star and current co-star in the upcoming movie Sinners Like Us, Noah Sloan. We are privileged to have Amelia London herself here in the studio with us for an exclusive interview.” Stephanie and the camera turned toward me. “Thank you for being here, Amelia. I can only imagine what the last few days have been like for you.”