“That there’s Cherry,” the bartender says, nodding in the direction of the piano. “Finest pianist this side of the Mississippi.” He slings a damp towel over his left shoulder and smiles at me. “I ain’t seen you round here before. You come in off the stagecoach? Didn’t think it was due for another month.”
“No, I’m just visiting for a short time,” I answer, taking a seat on a stool. “Do you think I could get some water?”
“Sure,” the bartender nods. He reaches under the counter and withdraws a sparkling glass. Humming along to the cheerful tune, he turns and dips the glass inside a large open barrel and sets it back down in front of me.
“Oh, that’s…different.” I wrap my hand around the wet glass, pulling it toward me. I raise the cup to my lips, but before I can taste the lukewarm water, Weather Cat leaps onto the bar beside my elbow.
Enjoying yourself? the tabby asks, his silver eyes surveying the rambunctious crowd gathered in the saloon.
“Yes, very much. It’s nice to be out of the heat,” I tell him, taking a large gulp of the water. I wrinkle my nose. The water has a slightly sulfuric taste to it.
“Yeah, way them crows actin’ outside, you can tell it’s gone be a hot one today,” the bartender answers, thinking my comment was directed at him.
I spin on my stool and lean against the bar, watching the crowd with Weather Cat. Most of the bar’s patrons are men, all dressed alike with a layer of dirt on each and every one of them. There are also several women, all of whom are wearing flamboyant dresses like mine.
My eyes are drawn to one young woman sitting on a man’s lap. He’s playing cards as she whispers in his ear, her black curls falling across his shoulder and her breasts almost popping out of her dress. The man smiles at her and she throws her head back, laughing with her entire body, her boobs bouncing with the effort. The man grins and runs his hand up her back, encircling her waist and pulling her closer to him. One can only guess where they’ll be headed after the card game is finished.
I glance down at my own figure. The dress and corset I’m wearing has given me some curves, but my chest is far from dazzling. “I wish I had confidence like that,” I grumble, taking another sip of water. Weather Cat ignores my comment.
At a few of the other tables, the men are playing cards while beautiful girls laugh alongside them, each more brazen than the last. Everyone is smiling, chatting, yelling about their hand, or calling for another shot of whiskey. The pianist is playing loud and lively music, and it seems perfect. There’s a palpable energy in the room that’s infectious.
I want to be a part of it. I set my empty glass down and take a step toward one of the nearby tables where the dark-haired girl is laughing again at something the man beneath her said.
Be careful, the tabby hisses. I think there’s a storm coming.
“A storm? I think you’re losing it, friend. There’s nothing but beautiful blue sky out there.” I toss over my shoulder. If Weather Cat responds I don’t hear him. I smile widely at the men in front of me. “Hi, do ya’ll need some more company?” I ask, trying to appear confident and sexy.
The dark-haired girl narrows her amber eyes and purses her lips, conveying her dislike, but the men are liking the extra attention.
“Sure darlin’, why don’t you sit over here with me?” one cowboy suggests.
I start to look him over but stop at his eyes. They’re sweet, untouched; Jeremy jumps to my mind. A flutter starts in my chest but I don’t back down.
“Okay, thanks.” I slide onto his lap. “Oof!” He bounces his legs and I lose my balance. I grab onto his neck to steady myself before I tumble to the beer-stained floor.
“That’s better,” the handsome cowboy says with a wink. “I’m Gray,” he adds. “You any good at cards?”
I shake my head. “I used to play War with my brother growing up, but that’s about it.”
“War, huh? Well today’s your lucky day cause I’m gonna teach you how to become a master poker player,” Gray says with a charming wink.
“Yeah right, master my boot. You ain’t won a hand yet,” one of the other guys cackles.
“Ah, that’s just my strategy. See, I lull them into a false sense of security and then I bring out the big guns to take the pot,” Gray whispers in my ear. His breath is warm and it makes me shiver. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
Maggie! a faraway voice cries.
Maggie! Maggie, wake up! Do you hear me! Maggie!
I lift my eyes to the front door, positive I heard my name. I strain my ears to hear it again over the loud music and rowdy banter but it’s gone.
“Did you hear that?” I ask, glancing from face to face at the table, trying to figure out who’s playing a joke on me. “How do you know my name?”
“I don’t, darlin’,” Gray scoffs. “That’s why I’m askin’.”
“But I thought you called me—”
Maggie! Give it to me, Maggie! I need it! the voice rasps and Gray’s relaxed hold turns to a vise, squeezing tighter and tighter until I see stars.
“Give it to me, you little bitch,” Gray barks in my ear, shaking me. “I swear I’ll hurt you if you don’t give it to me.”
Maggie, disconnect. Now, right now. Weather Cat is in front of me, his glowing eyes wide with fright.
Somehow I manage to find my arm and reach to the back of my neck. My fingers find the Vertix and I pull back from the intense heat radiating off it.
You must disconnect, hurry, the tabby urges and then melts away, shutting himself down.
Wait, don’t leave me! I cry inside my head, but it’s too late. Goosebumps prickle my arms as I reach up to try again. This time I ignore the crisp burn scorching my fingertips and I manage to swipe down, deactivating the device. The pale saloon fades away but I can still feel Gray’s grip digging into my skin. This doesn’t make any sense. I’m not connected anymore.
I open my eyes. There is a shadow blocking out the pale light of my bedside lamp. Andy is hovering over me, his features twisted and morphed. He resembles a savage animal.
“Andy?” I whisper, struggling to find my voice as his fingers claw deeper and deeper into my arms. His teeth mash together as he advances even closer to my face.
He isn’t wearing his Vertix. He must be hallucinating. His eyes confirm my fear. My brother is looking at me like I’m his prey.
Andy, you’re hurting me,” I gasp, trying to break free from his grasp.
Andy laughs as his grip tightens. Somehow I know this isn’t the real Andy—my Andy. His blue eyes are fire, dangerous.
I try to wiggle away and roll myself off the bed, my weight pulling my arm from his grasp. My feet hit the carpet with a muted thud and I hurriedly move out of arm’s reach, colliding with my dresser. Several items tumble off it, littering the floor around my feet with remnants of my childhood.
I back toward the door, away from the shell of my brother. “Andy, why don’t you go and rest? I’ll make you something and you’ll feel better,” I plead. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t know what he’ll do.
Andy shakes his head as if to escape a frightening image inside his mind and turns on the comforter, his eyes unblinking. He makes a swipe for me, misses and tumbles off the bed, hitting his head on my bedside table with a solid thwack.
My heart hammers in my chest as I look toward the door. Maybe if I’m fast enough, I can find something to barricade the door with and trap him in here. I scan, finding nothing useful in my cluttered room.
“Andy, please. Tell me what to do. What do you need?” I beg as he rises to his feet and advances again. There is nowhere to go in the apartment, nowhere to lock myself away.
His cloudy eyes focus for a moment and he sneers. “You can start by giving me what’s yours. I need it more than you,” he rasps, closing the distance between us. His hands are outstretched, reaching for me like claws.
He’s going to kill me.
“Give it to me!” Andy yells as he lunges for my face
.
I scream and duck, but his fingers catch my shoulders and I feel his sharp nails cut into my skin as he tries to rip the Vertix from my neck. I pull away and rush across the room, trying to locate something to fend him off. I spot a plastic coat hanger and grab it, brandishing it like a sword.
“What are you going to do with that, Mags? Hit me?” Andy mocks, his eyes tracking me like a lion stalking prey. From this distance I can see the long cuts on his arms. He’s been scratching. He’s going through withdrawal. This isn’t Andy, this isn’t my brother. This is a monster.
The snarl returns to Andy’s face. He grits his teeth and lunges at me again.
“Just wait, wait, wait!” I cry, jumping back and letting my poor weapon fall to the floor. “Just wait. I know what you want, okay. And I’ll give it to you. Just let me go and it’s all yours.”
I watch as understanding blossoms and Andy’s muscles relax. I reach up and pull the quiet Vertix from my skin. Nothing but the sound of both mine and Andy’s heavy breathing fill my ears. The small copper device is warm in my hands and blood drips onto the floor as the little legs retreat into the body.
“Here, it’s all yours, Andy. Take it, here,” I say, offering the Vertix to him.
Andy shuffles over and swipes the Vertix out of my palm without a word. He places the Vertix on his own neck, not bothering to wipe away my blood still clinging to it. As the connection begins to overwhelm his brain and senses, relief spreads across his face.
“Ahh,” Andy sighs, already lost to the exploding connection.
Time to move. I slip out of the bedroom into the hall. Glancing back, I see Andy teetering in one place. After a moment he collapses onto my bed, his lower body still hanging off.
He’s fine, he’ll be fine. He’s just out of it right now. It’s not a big deal, I’m okay, and he’s okay. Why am I crying? I brush the fallen tears from my cheeks and shake my head. I need to get away. I need to get out of here, clear my head.
In the kitchen I see a bright spot of blood on the center of the table. I plug my nose to keep from vomiting, but then realize it isn’t blood—it’s Andy’s Vertix.
“He must have depleted the battery or something,” I think aloud, lowering my hand. I sidestep an upside-down chair and look around, noticing the entire kitchen is in disarray. All the chairs are overturned, the towering pile of mail and bills have been ripped to shreds, and the cupboard doors gape open like festering wounds, their contents all broken and splattered across the tile floor. I bend down to scoop up my favorite tea mug, a white one with a happy red panda on it I got at the zoo years ago. My heart breaks at the sight of the shattered ceramic.
He’ll be fine, he’s fine. A flood of tears pours from my eyes. He just needs to relax for a little while. I wipe the wetness from my reddening cheeks and let the sharp pieces fall back to the floor with a quiet tinkling sound. A large canvas bag still sits by the door, random kitchen appliances and the top of a few glass snow globes peeking out of the top.
“Paul,” I whisper. “Of course. I can fix all of this. I just need to go see Paul.”
I shrug into my coat and throw on my hat and mittens in case the weather is still awful. I don’t have Weather Cat to give me an update. My mitten palms the doorknob and I pull open the front door as a chill claws up my spine.
Should you really leave him right now?
I consider this for a moment. He’ll be fine, he’s connected now. I won’t be gone long. I slip outside into the morning sun and pull the door shut behind me.
I don’t want to think about my brother. I don’t want to picture how he looked at me like a wild animal come to feast. I shove my keys into my coat pocket and duck my chin as the winter wind greets me like an angry lover, running its chilling fingers along any bare skin it can find. I hoist the heavy bag higher on my shoulder and hurry down to the next landing. It only takes me a minute to reach the street.
He wasn’t going to hurt me. He’d never. Not Andy.
He’s fine. He’ll be smiling and embarrassed when I get back, ready to help clean up the kitchen. It’s Andy. He loves me. He would never do anything to scare me, to hurt me.
No matter how much I reassure myself of this, I can’t stop the shivers prickling underneath my skin.
• • • • •
The tinkling bell above the door chimes as I enter Paul’s shop. My entire body quivers from the cold and I pull my arms in toward the small amount of warmth my skinny body puts off. This weather is brutal. I stamp the light snow off my feet. Thankfully the fierce wind blew most of the collected snow away in the night so I only had to battle frostbite on my way over.
“Paul! Paul are you here?” I shout, flicking on the light switch by the door. It takes a moment to respond, buzzing as the sallow yellow color illuminates the dark shop. I walk up to the counter and dump my bag. “Jesus, that hurt.” I wince, massaging the spot on my shoulder where the straps dug into my skin. It’ll be worth it though, especially when Paul hands me a large stack of bills. “Paul?” I yell again into the empty store. I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s a little past nine. “Where are you?” I groan. I begin pulling out all the tangled appliances and pawn-worthy objects. Glancing over my shoulder, I take my time laying out all my necklaces beside my handheld electric mixer and tired hair straightener.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
The skin behind my ear begins its slow burn. I make the mistake of scratching once; the itch deepens. I grit my teeth as my skin transforms to crocodile scales, becoming hard and dry beneath my fingertips.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
The large scales on my neck flake off, exposing raw pink skin underneath. My hand stills above the gaping spots as the scales flutter to the floor, several landing on the glass counter in front of me. I brush the dry skin away. Hopefully it’ll blend in with the melting snow around me.
Heavy footsteps echo, announcing Paul’s arrival. Finally. I groan as the itching of my scales intensifies.
“Christ, I open the door and leave to take a piss and sure enough you show up thirty seconds later,” Paul says, greeting me in his usual brusque manner. “What have you got for me today, kid?” He scans the laid-out objects, scoffing at the happy snow globe on the right. “What is all this crap?”
I roll my neck and grip the edge of the counter, still wearing my thin mittens. “What do you mean? There’s a lot of great stuff in here.” I pick up the mixer and switch it on. The little metal arms begin to click and whir to life, like metallic fingers wiggling in the air. “Last time you loved all the kitchen gadgets I brought.”
“Honey.” Paul sighs, fixing me with a stern gaze. “Last time you brought me top of the line appliances. This—” he says, waving a long wooden spoon in the air, “what can I possibly hope to get for this?”
“Please, Paul, you’ve got a ton of stuff like that,” I plead.
Paul snorts, crossing his flabby arms over his massive chest. “Yeah, and it’s still here. Why would I buy more of the same shit just to collect dust on the shelf? Sorry, darlin’, I’m not taking any of this.”
“Nothing!” My voice squeaks as fear grips my gut. I can’t go back to the apartment empty-handed. What will I tell Andy? What will he do to me? “Paul, please, you have to give me something! I’m beyond desperate at this point,” I cry. “What about the necklaces?” I hold one up. “These are pretty, right?”
“Sure, if you’re a thirteen-year-old girl,” Paul says.
I let the thick chain slip through my fingers and crash onto the glass surface as more tough scales flake off. This time, rather than the pink skin beneath, foul smelling pus bubbles out of the peeled skin, running down my neck and soaking the collar of my coat. I rear my head back to escape the smell but it permeates the stale air in the small shop. Paul continues to stare at me. How can he not smell that?
“Please, Paul, come on. Just give me a hundred bucks for all this and then I’ll bring you something really nice, I swear,” I beg.
Paul shakes his head. “No way, darlin’. You’ve been bringing me brand name clothes and expensive heirlooms. A hundred dollars is stretching what little relationship we have.” He chuckles. He starts to pack everything up and my heart pounds against my ribcage.
Heirlooms, I think. Remembering, I rip my mittens off and shove my bare hands into my sweatpants’ pockets. Please let these be the same pants. I root around in the crumby depths. I know I haven’t done laundry in a while. Please let it be in here.
At last, my fingers close around something cool, something hard, like a rock. I exhale in relief. “What about this?” I say breathlessly, holding up Sarah’s beautiful diamond necklace. I grip the thin chain in between my middle finger and thumb, letting the large diamond spin and sparkle. My eyes are trained on Paul and I like what I see. The old man is almost salivating to get his grubby hands on the large diamond.
“Is that real?” Paul asks, his excitement not masked by his suspicion.
“Of course,” I say, my voice leveling out to a calm tone. Now that I have Paul’s attention, the ball is in my court.
“Where’d you lift this from?” Paul asks, raising his eyebrows, but the threat of stolen goods doesn’t stop him from reaching for the precious stone.
“Don’t worry, it’s not stolen.” I laugh. “When you mentioned heirlooms I remembered I had found this a while ago cleaning my apartment. It’s been in the family for generations,” I lie. Technically it’s not even a lie. It’s a family heirloom, just not from my family.
“You sure you want to pawn this?” Paul asks, skeptical. “A rock like this is worth big money, more than I could ever hope to give ya. Plus, you don’t want to keep it for any little ones you might have?”
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