Sidekick

by Auralee Wallace

  I quickly gave her the details.

  “I’m not asking that,” she said looking like I had three, if not four, heads.

  “Yes, you,” my father’s voice boomed out. I looked over to the big screen. He was pointing at Red Jacket. I dropped to the pavement.

  “Just do it!” I hissed up at her.

  She looked down at me, seemingly weighing her options.

  “Mr. St. James, what about the reports of hospitalizations coming out from your factory in Thailand? Do these reports have anything to do with the implant?”

  A rush of satisfaction ran through me. She had done it. Good thing, too. I was half a second away from biting her panty-hosed ankle.

  Silence resounded throughout the packed city square.

  “I believe you, too, are mistaken,” he replied. The temperature of his voice had dropped by a few degrees. And I wasn’t the only one who had heard it.

  Let the feeding frenzy begin.

  I looked over to Pierce. His face was still, but his eyes gleamed with excitement. He had been validated. My heart did a happy dance…then froze, fell over, and puked on the floor.

  Over to my left, two burly men in dark blazers and sunglasses were struggling to get past a scrum of camera people.

  I didn’t have to guess who they were coming for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I tried to control my hyperventilation by telling myself my father wouldn’t allow a scene in front of reporters. Then again, he probably thought my presence alone was a danger—solid logic, given that I was crawling around on all fours between chairs and reporters’ legs.

  I needed to crawl faster.

  I scampered furiously through the crowd, shopping bags still clutched in my fist.

  Reporters fired off questions, but they didn’t even register…until I heard my name.

  “Mr. St. James, where is Bremy these days?”

  I popped up like a prairie dog.

  “Is she not here to support her sister?”

  Ouch. Some part of me had been wondering when my name was going to come up. Sure, the press had misgivings about my father and his company, but they loved me. Late at night, I sometimes still dreamed of the furious clicking of camera shutters.

  My father cleared his throat. “Well, you know Bremy. I’m sure she is currently working very hard on a new shade of frivolous.”

  I scoffed, loudly, but no one heard it over the laughter.

  What? You hand-glide into a few parties wearing a tiara and tutu and suddenly you’re labelled frivolous for life?

  I looked behind me. The goons, with legs the size of tree trunks, had spotted me and were gaining. I dropped back down to my hands and knees.

  I knew it had been a bad idea to come to this conference. My father had warned me what would happen if I ever made any trouble. The official story would read that I was just another sad socialite sent to a clinic for something like bipolar, anorexia—or sad, rich girl disease. But the reality would probably be a dungeon in the basement.

  I had no doubt he would do it too. He was capable of worse.

  The rough pavement rubbed away the skin on my palms and knees, but I still moved like lightning—clumsy lightning that landed on people’s toes and knocked over chairs.

  In fact, I was moving so quickly, I didn’t even see that I was about to smack headfirst into someone’s legs.

  Pain shot through the crown of my head.

  “Brenda?”

  I peeked up at Pierce, holding my head. He bent over to help me up.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, blinking stars out of my eyes.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Oh God. What to say?

  Panicky options flew through my head. If I didn’t answer soon, it didn’t matter what I said, it would sound like a lie.

  I needed to say something…anything.

  “The question isn’t what am I doing here? I think the question is what are you doing here?”

  He pursed his lips together as though he might actually be considering my logic before saying, “I don’t think that’s the question.”

  “Oh.” I shot a quick glance behind me. The huge men were having a tough time navigating the crowd, but they were still gaining on me. I had to get out of here.

  “I—uh—came to see you!” I inwardly groaned. Stalkers weren’t sexy.

  “Really?”

  I looked to his face in disbelief. He was smiling and pushing his glasses up his nose. Aww.

  “Um yeah, you sounded so passionate about this press conference. I wanted to see what it was all about.” I took another furtive glance over my shoulder. They’d be on me in less than a minute.

  Pierce suddenly looked embarrassed. “I guess you saw the part where I got dressed-down by the Mr. St. James.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s a jerk.”

  “You almost sound like you know him,” he replied laughing.

  “Ha! Yeah, right,” I said quickly. “Anyway, you’re working. I should go.”

  “Wait! No! I’m sure there will only be a few more questions, and then maybe we could go for a coffee or something.”

  Not likely. I didn’t think there would be visiting hours where I was going.

  I glanced behind me. It didn’t look good. I might as well say goodbye to Pierce now.

  I looked back into his beautiful eyes—staring at me as though I were crazy. Screw it. I moved to plant one on him. One last kiss would keep me warm in my prison cell at night.

  Then as my lips touched his, I noticed, in the distance, a van parked in an alleyway. Beside it stood a man wearing a Lone Ranger’s mask, waving his arms over his head.

  Waving at me?

  Holy crap, was that Bart from electronics store?

  I squinted. The mask made it difficult to be sure, but I thought I recognized the t-shirt with the pizza stains.

  The man quickly moved to open the back door of the van, impatiently waving his hand for me to get in.

  An escape plan! Yippee!

  Now I just had to disengage my unwilling lips from Pierce. My eyes moved back to his glorious face. Yikes! His eyes were open, and he was once again looking at me like I was crazy.

  We separated with a smacking sound.

  “Brenda, I’m really getting the impression that there is more going on he—”

  “I gotta go! I see a friend.”

  “Wait! I realize that we have only been on one date, and I have no right to pry into your life, but maybe, on our second date, you could tell me what’s really going with you, Brenda…if that is your real name.”

  “Sure thing Pierce—if that’s your real name.”

  “This whole reversal thing you’re doing really isn’t working.”

  I moved past him, pressing every part of my body to his as I did.

  “Wow, okay, but the body rub thing? That definitely is working. Very unfair.”

  “I promise I’ll never do it again.”

  “Let’s not get crazy,” he replied reaching for my arm.

  I hurried away.

  “Tell me that that masked man over by the van is not your friend,” he called to my departing back.

  “I’ll call you!”

  “Okay, Tonto, looking forward to it!”

  I couldn’t waste any more time looking back. Once I made it to the edge of the crowd, I broke into a full out run.

  I watched Bart hustle to the driver’s side of the van and get in. He left the back door open.

  When I was a couple of feet from the running van, I made the type of leap you only see in movies and tumbled onto the thin metal floor.

  “Go! Go! Go!”

  “No one’s chasing you anymore,” Bart said looking over his shoulder. “That big guy you were talking to tripped them up with his ridiculous looking muscles.

  “He did?” I couldn’t keep the Oh, I just saw the cutest kitten! tone out of my voice.

  “He did,” Bart said dryly.

  I tried to catch m
y breath. “It may seem like no one is chasing us, but they’re everywhere.” I looked back out the grimy window. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You’re watching me!” I spat with as much j’accuse flair as I could muster. I probably shouldn’t have been yelling at him, but all my adrenaline needed to go somewhere. “On your computer face recognition thingy.”

  “This time, you’re right,” he said driving the rickety van down the alley. “I’ve set the program to give me alerts whenever you pop up around town. I was hoping you’d lead me to Dark Ryder. You haven’t. You don’t really have a relationship with her, do you?”

  I made a loud scoffing sound before shouting, “I do too!”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And if you’re only interested in Dark Ryder, why are you here?”

  “Well, there I was, getting a pedicure from Megan…or is it Michelle? Marie?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, your alert came up, so I started watching. The moment you stepped into the square, your father’s security team changed their formation. It was obvious they were going to nab you, so I thought I’d help out.”

  “Why? I thought you weren’t that into me?”

  He gave his head a slight shake. “I’m not. And it’s kind of sad that you keep bringing that up.”

  I ignored him. I wasn’t falling for this routine again. “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m a genius. I get bored.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I’m still holding you to that date with Ryder—something which you’ll be even less likely to pull off in one of your father’s fortresses.”

  “True ‘nough,” I replied.

  “I suppose you want to go back to your hole of an apartment?”

  “Yeah…and thanks,” I said not even questioning how he knew its location.

  As I shuffled around to find a place to sit in the back of the van, everything started to sink in.

  Jenny had spoken.

  And it wasn’t the first time.

  I had missed her first words. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that.

  This time I texted her first.

  I guess I can’t be mad at you for not saying anything.

  A second later her reply came. No, you can’t.

  I am really happy for you…for us. She would know what I meant. Good for her automatically meant good for me. If I call, will you be able to talk to me?

  What you saw today took hours of practice. I can’t hold normal conversations yet.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. Another first in our relationship.

  A new message popped up on my screen. Do you know what it’s like going through all of these changes by myself?

  I knew exactly what it was like. I thought about the thousands of times I wished I had Jenny to talk to over the past month. How could I explain any of it?

  I couldn’t. Not yet.

  I’m sorry.

  A moment later the reply came. Me too. I started to type a new message. Please don’t…

  Don’t what? Don’t feel betrayed? I would if I were in her position.

  I couldn’t finish the sentence. Jenny didn’t type anything either for a minute, then the words It has always been all about you, Bremy appeared on the screen.

  The words slapped me.

  Jenny never spoke this way.

  She couldn’t mean it. She was hurt.

  This was all my fault. There had been a time when we weren’t apart for a day, and now, I had missed the most important day of her life…but she hadn’t told me about it either. I had found out by chance. My secrets had been to protect her. Had hers been to hurt me? A crushing pain filled in my chest.

  I had been so sure I was following the right course—the only course. If I told Jenny what our father had done, she would have wanted to leave with me, and I couldn’t take care of her. Her medical needs were astounding. I had truly believed that I needed to get myself established before I could tell her and bring her with me. I still thought that, didn’t I?

  So much had changed.

  How could I take Jenny away now? What if my father could do more for her? What if she could live like everyone else? Live like me?

  Yeah, live like me…what a joke.

  I was so far from getting my life together. The plan had been to get a grown-up job and make real money. Instead, I was wasting my time on some superhero dream. What was I doing? I probably wouldn’t even make it past the first test. Then where would I be? Who would I be? A toilet-cleaning bunny facing certain death at her landlord’s hand. God, that was grim.

  I should probably forget about the whole thing…but every fibre in my being screamed against it.

  I needed a sign.

  The van bounced me and my bad mood all over the sad grey interior. Suddenly a bump rocked me so badly that I knocked my shopping bags over. My jumpsuit fell out and unfurled across the floor.

  I guess I had imaginary friends because I found myself looking around the van to see if they had witnessed the miracle too.

  “Nice suit,” Bart said.

  If his voice was dripping with sarcasm, I didn’t hear it.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  I could do this.

  Jenny would forgive me, my father would leave alone, and I would find a way to pay back both Mr. Pushkin and Mr. Raj.

  I glanced again at the suit.

  Ryder was the key.

  ***

  No one should chase destiny with bad hair.

  With my fifty bucks from the dark smelly Lord of the Secondhand Shop, I had purchased six bottles of hair dye along with some lipstick. I still had the other fifty he had given me safely tucked away.

  My inspiration came from Ryder, of course. She had said a killer outfit intimidated bad guys, but it didn’t hurt that she was literally stunning with her fire-colored hair. It was time to ditch my mouse brown look.

  I lined up the boxes on my bed: two cherry reds, two burnt pumpkins, one corn silk blonde, and one lightning gold.

  Good thing I had a lot of hair.

  I rubbed my chin between my thumb and forefinger as I contemplated my approach. I need to be scientific about this. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to section my head into quadrants then map out a pattern for gloriousness. I grabbed my comb—then immediately put it back down. First, I needed to get on my bodysuit for inspiration.

  Within half an hour, I had my hair gooped and standing out in a million directions. The only snag had been the different waiting times for the colors. Initially, I debated doing my hair in stages, but that would have taken all night. I needed this transformation now. I settled on going with the longest time. After all, I wasn’t aiming for subtlety.

  I happily passed the time by striking poses inspired by Charlie’s Angels for the pigeons roosted outside my window. Even the opera music blasting from Queenie’s apartment wasn’t bothering me. It sounded like Greek Gods battling it out in the cosmos…very fitting.

  As the timer on my phone counted down, my enthusiasm turned into impatience. The minutes inched along. I could barely stand it…literally. I couldn’t sit on my bed because of all the dripping dye, and there wasn’t anywhere else to sit in my apartment, so I stood in between my toilet and sink and squirmed.

  Five minutes left!

  I filled up my sink. I didn’t have a shower, so I would have to dunk my head.

  Not long now!

  I carefully avoided looking in the mirror. I didn’t want to wreck the surprise.

  Suddenly my phone chirped. I put it on speaker. Any electricity by my head might be dangerous.

  Ryder’s smooth, accented voice greeted me. “Meet me at the alleyway behind the opera house in fifteen minutes.”

  “Wait…what? Now?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “The opera house is at least twenty, twenty-five minutes walk!”

  “Then I guess you will h
ave to run.”

  I took the look into the mirror I had been saving. Very….interesting things were happening on top of my head.

  “I don’t want to sound ungrateful,” I said stammering, “but now’s really not a good time.”

  She hung up.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  I dunked my hair into the sink and quickly swished it around. In order to get the dye out, I would have to refill the sink. The swishing just mixed the colors together. But there wasn’t any time! I couldn’t miss my chance. I twisted my hair into a snake, ignoring the dark purplish liquid running between my fingers, and threw it over my shoulder. Next, I grabbed the fire engine red lipstick I had bought with the dye and swiped it across my mouth.

  I didn’t look in the mirror again. I had an image in my mind of what I wanted to look like. Why bring reality into the mix?

  I had my hand on the door handle when I realized I had almost forgotten my secret weapon. I turned and grabbed it off the foot of my bed. Close one.

  I hurried out into the hall and slammed my door shut at the exact same moment Queenie slammed hers.

  We turned and faced each other. I’m not sure who was more stunned.

  Queenie looked like Madame Butterfly…after she been eaten and thrown up by Marilyn Mason. She wore a richly colored kimono with long, full sleeves trailing to the ground. The skirt, however, was cut off mid-thigh, displaying sleek, leather boots laced up to above her knee. One of her eyes was its regular brown, the other white. They contrasted starkly against her painted white face and tiny geisha lips.

  Our standoff lasted more than a minute.

  Eventually we carefully walked past one another, in opposite directions. I headed for the stairs, Queenie, the window at the end of the hall. Perhaps she was planning to launch her broomstick off the fire escape.

  I rushed down the stairs.

  Time to catch destiny.

  ***

  I tried to run the whole way to the opera house, but there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to fill my lungs. Cardio training. I needed to add that to my list. I made sure I ran the last two blocks, however, just in case Ryder was watching.

  I slowed to a walk as I approached the alley at the back of the centuries old building. At the front, hordes of beautiful people gathered, diamonds and furs gleaming under the marque lights, but back here, there was nothing to keep me company but the shadows and darkness.