No Memes of Escape

by Olivia Blacke

  “I get it,” I babbled. “You did what you had to do. After all she put you through, it was, like, justified.”

  “It was,” he said, nodding.

  “Plus, with the sleeping pills and all, you were technically under the influence. Any judge could see that.”

  “Yup,” he agreed. He moved around the edge of the desk as I inched backward toward the door.

  “Besides, sounds to me like Vickie had it coming,” I said. I felt something hit the back of my knees and steadied myself before I could trip over one of the waiting room chairs. If I could reach the door before he did, I would be home free.

  “Exactly,” Brandon agreed.

  I scooted closer to the door, feeling along the wall behind me for the door handle. When my hand brushed it, I practically doubled over in relief. I was safe.

  I turned the doorknob.

  Nothing happened.

  “Going somewhere?” Brandon asked, sounding closer than I’d realized. While I’d been searching for the door, he’d managed to close the distance between us. I noticed something metallic glinting in his hands. I hoped it was just his enormous key chain, but I had a sinking feeling it was worse. I didn’t want to look down and risk breaking eye contact again. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

  “My friends are waiting for me outside,” I told him.

  He replied with a dry laugh, brandishing a box cutter. He slid a button forward and a sharp-looking blade appeared. “No, they’re not. You forget, I’ve got cameras all over this place. Even outside. I checked before I locked the door, and there’s no one out there.”

  “But you’re forgetting one thing,” I said, pressed against the door as he crept closer.

  “Oh yeah?” he sneered. “What am I forgetting? You’re so full of questions. What are you, some sort of undercover cop?”

  “Nope,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m really not. But he is.”

  Detective Vincent Castillo stepped into the room, gun drawn. “Brandon Reaves, drop the knife. You’re under arrest for the murder of Victoria Marsh.”

  The box cutter clattered to the ground. The Game Master slowly raised his arms in the air, palms out toward me. He looked over his shoulder. “New guy?”

  “Wrong,” Castillo said, approaching the other man. With practiced, efficient motions, he wrenched Brandon’s arms behind his back and clasped handcuffs on his wrists. “I can’t believe I showed up out of the blue and said you were supposed to train me, and you never even questioned it.” He smiled at me over Brandon’s shoulder. “What did I tell you, Odessa? No one ever notices the help.”

  I nodded stiffly. When the effects of the shock wore off, I would probably collapse into a puddle of jelly, but right now, it was all I could do to breathe and wait for my pulse to resume a normal rhythm. “You got all that, right?”

  “Yup,” Castillo replied. He frog-marched Brandon over to the waiting room chairs and forced him to sit. “Not only did I hear everything, I recorded the whole confession on my phone. More than enough to put him away for murder. People never learn, do they?”

  I shook my head slightly. “Nope.”

  He turned his attention back to Brandon. “Now, you sit there all quiet-like until transport comes to take you back to the station.” He pulled a card out of his wallet and recited Brandon’s Miranda rights. “Do you understand your rights as I’ve explained them to you?” he asked.

  Brandon nodded.

  “I need a yes or no,” Castillo prodded.

  “Yes. I understand. But there were, like, extenuating circumstances, man. You heard her. It was completely justified. I haven’t had more than a few hours’ sleep in months, not counting when I was doped up on over-the-counter sleeping aids. I was out of my mind when I killed that broker lady. There’s not a jury in New York City that wouldn’t sympathize. Heck, they might even give me a medal!”

  “You’ve got a point,” Castillo agreed. “And the DA might not have even chosen to prosecute, based on those circumstances. Until you came after my friend here with a deadly weapon.”

  Brandon slumped in his chair, all the fight escaping him like a deflating balloon.

  Castillo continued. “Defense can produce a parade of witnesses that the victim ripped off, but once Odessa takes the stand, you’re going away for life. Because there’s no one quite as sympathetic as a kindhearted waitress with a Southern accent.”

  25

  Untapped Books & Café @untappedwilliamsburg ∙ July 16

  Closing early tonight for a private event, but come on in tomorrow to check out the best selection of books & cold craft brews in Williamsburg! #books #craftbeer #privateparty

  Parker surveyed the crowded café. “I can’t believe you pulled this off,” he said. It was extremely late on Tuesday night—or more accurately, very early on Wednesday morning. Untapped Books & Café had three times as many people crammed inside as it normally had on a busy Saturday night. We were all there to celebrate Parker’s twenty-fifth birthday.

  I didn’t know how Izzy managed it all. She’d thrown a hugely successful surprise party for Parker with only a few days to set everything up. She’d handled everything, from convincing Todd to close early and let us have the space to tracking down Parker’s roommates and friends who were scattered as far away as Jersey. She even ordered a Limoncello cake, just like he wanted.

  Todd had brought his new girlfriend, the woman with the Irish accent he’d met on Tinder. She was glued to his side all night. I’d accidentally walked in on them making out in the hall when I’d stepped out to use the bathroom. I retreated hastily, considering using the emergency eye wash station in the kitchen to scrub that scene out of my brain.

  The birthday boy in question had a cold bottle of Pour Williamsburg in one hand and his other arm looped over Hazel’s shoulders. “I helped,” she said, grinning. Izzy had roped her in on the surprise party plan, and she’d made sure to get Parker back to the café without him ever suspecting a thing.

  I think I was gonna like Hazel. I still wasn’t convinced that she was good enough for my friend Parker—I wasn’t sure any woman was—but she laughed at his corny jokes and praised his culinary genius, so she couldn’t be all bad. Plus, she made him happy.

  Speaking of happy couples, even though they’d worked out their problems, Izzy had gone to the party stag. “It’s a shame Vincent couldn’t come. He should be with us, celebrating closing Vickie’s case.”

  “He wanted to be here, he did. But, you know, paperwork. Apparently that’s the reward for bringing in a murderer. Frankly, I don’t see why Vince gets to take all the credit when we did all the work!”

  “I know, right?” I said, but she could tell I was joking. I was perfectly happy with Castillo getting the credit. I wasn’t comfortable being in the spotlight.

  “Are you sure you have to leave?” Parker asked me. “It’s early.”

  “It’s past three in the morning,” I protested. But I knew he wasn’t really talking about the party anymore.

  While I’d been busy trying to solve Vickie’s murder and help Izzy plan Parker’s surprise party, I’d run out of time to find alternative living arrangements. I’d worn out my welcome at my aunt’s apartment. She’d even taken the liberty of printing out a Greyhound ticket and leaving it on the counter where I’d be sure to see it. Maybe if I had another week or two, Izzy could have found us an apartment, but that ship had sailed. It was time to go back home to Piney Island. “And I’ve got a bus to catch in a few hours.”

  At least I’d spent my last night in Williamsburg surrounded by friends. I couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  “Odessa . . .” Parker said, but I stopped him.

  “Dude, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Besides, we have internet in Louisiana. We can FaceTime anytime you want.”

  It wouldn’t be the same
, of course. But now that I’d gotten a taste of New York, no place else would ever be quite enough for me. I’d go back to Louisiana and get my old job back at the Crawdad Shack. I’d save every penny until I could afford to return to Williamsburg and move in with Izzy. It might take me a few months, but I’d be back.

  I took one last look around the room. Silvia and Emilie had pushed three tables together for beer pong and were currently beating Parker’s roommates, Suz and Tony. Kim, Betty, and Nan were cheering them on.

  Todd and his date were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

  Gennifer and her husband, Pete, were there, too. His mom was watching the baby, which was probably a good thing because it was very late and the music was loud enough that the tenants that lived above the café would be well within their rights to complain. Adding a screaming baby into the mix wouldn’t have been good. It turned out that Pete and Parker were distant cousins or something. Small world.

  Gennifer saw me staring and waved. I waved back.

  “Yo!” Andre called as I started up the stairs toward the bookstore section of Untapped. Tonight, after all this time, I’d finally gotten to meet his boyfriend, Trey. He was Andre’s polar opposite—a quiet, reserved wallflower. Then again, it was hard to get a word in edgewise while Andre was around, so they were a perfect match. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

  “Home,” I said. My heart sank a little when I realized I meant Piney Island.

  He thrust his phone at me. “Have you seen this?”

  On the screen was Huckleberry, flopped over on his back, surrounded by a mess of books. The caption read, “When you’ve had one too many.”

  “Wait, there’s more,” Andre said, and scrolled down. The same picture appeared, but this time it said, “Mondays be like.” He scrolled through picture after picture of Huckleberry, each with a pithy caption. “You did it, Odessa. You created a meme. And you even managed to get the Untapped logo in the window. Good job, girl.” He pulled me into a hug. “Gonna miss you.”

  “Me, too,” I said. I had to get out of here before I made a fool of myself and ruined Parker’s birthday with a waterworks display. “I’ll be back,” I promised.

  I hoped I meant it.

  “Come on, Odessa. It’s late. I’ll walk you home,” Izzy offered.

  I waved at everyone and hurried out into the night. The door closed behind us with a tinkle of bells.

  “I wish you would have let me invite Raleigh,” Izzy said as we walked.

  “Thanks, but that would have been weird. It was Parker’s birthday party, and the two of them don’t even really know each other.”

  “Duh, I wasn’t inviting him for Parker. I would have invited him for you.”

  I shook my head. “Raleigh’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested in him. I’m glad I got to be with y’all tonight instead of making awkward small talk with a guy I barely know.” We paused at the corner, waiting for a break in traffic or the crosswalk light, whichever came first. “You really do throw an amazing party,” I told her, a little too loudly. I’d been shouting all night to be heard over the crowd and the music, and I hadn’t yet adjusted my volume.

  “I couldn’t let my best friend leave Williamsburg without a proper send-off, could I?” she asked.

  “Tonight was supposed to be Parker’s night,” I reminded her.

  “He didn’t mind sharing.”

  “You really don’t have to walk me home, you know.”

  “I know that.” Izzy linked her arm with mine as we crossed the street.

  A man in a gorilla suit jogged past us from the other direction. “Man, he’s gotta be hot,” I mused. Then I realized I wasn’t even startled at seeing a grown man dressed like a gorilla running down a sidewalk at three in the morning.

  That’s my Williamsburg.

  The short walk—I’d been in New York long enough to consider three quarters of a mile a short walk, I realized with amazement—was over too quickly and we soon found ourselves looking up at my aunt’s apartment building. Like many of the buildings in Williamsburg, it had started out as a warehouse before it was gutted and converted to high-end apartment units. The lobby was dim. Earl the grumpy concierge had gone home hours ago.

  I unlocked the front door and stood there awkwardly, one foot propping it open. I didn’t know how to say goodbye to Izzy. It might be a while before I could save enough money to move back to Brooklyn. At least I had Brandon the Game Master’s trial to look forward to, since I had to return to New York to testify against him.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” Izzy asked, pulling the door all the way open and squeezing past me into the building.

  “You don’t have to walk me all the way to my door,” I protested.

  “Might as well,” she said, crossing the lobby and punching the button to call the elevator.

  “You staying at Vincent’s tonight?” I asked her. The last time I’d assumed she had a place to stay, she’d actually been crashing in the stockroom. Which, technically, was a place to stay. Just not a very good one. I’d feel better if I knew she had someplace safe to live until I got back, and I couldn’t think of any place safer than a cop’s apartment.

  “Yeah, but I don’t know when he’ll be home. Between his full-time job and moonlighting as security, I hardly ever see him even when I’m not dodging him.”

  “What’s his apartment like?” I asked, bracing myself for another horror story.

  “Not bad. Small. Really small. There’s almost always someone couch-surfing in his living room, so he’s got, like, zero privacy. This week, it’s that giant guy Myke. He got evicted when his building went condo, and he’s staying with Vince until something permanent comes along.”

  I dug through my bag and pulled out Marlie’s card. “Tell him to call Marlie and have her pass along my discount to him.”

  “Discount?” she asked.

  “She said she’d waive her broker’s fee. Unless you want it?”

  “No thanks. I’m sure something will pan out soon.”

  I nodded. I wish something had come up sooner, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be. That was okay. Williamsburg wasn’t going anywhere. “You should talk to Silvia, see if she’s looking for a roommate. Commuting from Queens every day is wearing her down.”

  “I might do that,” Izzy said, waiting for me to unlock the door.

  “I’m surprised you don’t want to stay with Vincent permanently.”

  Izzy shrugged. “I like him, but it’s way too early in our relationship to talk about moving in together. Besides, he snores.”

  “Out of all the things you’ve put up with in the past, having a cute roommate that snores is hardly a blip on your radar.”

  “Tell me about it,” she said. “When I was little, before we moved out to Staten Island, my parents had an apartment above a pet store in Jersey City. All night long, those puppies would bark and howl and the birds would squawk. But that wasn’t the worst of it. A fourteen-foot-long albino boa constrictor escaped one day and somehow ended up in our bathroom. I’ve never heard my dad scream so loud in my entire life.” She giggled at the memory. “But at least the snake didn’t snore.”

  I had assumed that my aunt’s apartment would be dark and quiet, but to my surprise, when I opened the door, the lights were on in the tiny kitchen and the overcrowded living room. Rufus ran to greet me, purring loudly as he made a figure eight between my legs, begging to be picked up. I obliged, burying my hands in his curly fur.

  Aunt Melanie was awake, reading a book with a glass of wine in her hand as she sat on the couch in her robe. “You’re home early,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

  “Later?” I asked. “It’s well past three in the morning.” I pried off my cowboy boots and sank down onto the couch next to her.

  I knew Aunt Mela
nie wasn’t the typical aunt. She never retired to bed before midnight unless she was sick, she was fiercely independent even when her foot was in a cast, and she was extraordinarily gracious to have put me up for so long. I thought she’d asked me to come watch her cat and her apartment as a favor to her, but I’d since come to realize that this had been for my benefit all along. She’d used her trip as a chance for me to get out of Louisiana for a while and see a part of the world I’d never elsewise have a chance to experience.

  Aunt Melanie laughed at my answer and set her wineglass on the coffee table in front of her, next to a statue I hadn’t seen before. “You’re young and in New York City. Enjoy every minute while you can.”

  “Good advice. Is this new?” I asked, picking up the statue to get a better look at it. It was heavy, a two-foot-high ceramic piece depicting a three-headed monster covered in emerald and teal green scales. Its eyes—nine of them in total—glittered like rubies and its two tails had suction cups on the underside like an octopus’s tentacles.

  “Actually, it’s old. I made this when I was about your age, I think. It’s been buried in my studio for decades. Found it while I was cleaning.”

  “I’m glad you found it and dusted it off,” I said, being careful to place it back in exactly the same position that I had found it. I relaxed back on the couch next to my aunt. “It’s cool. Hey, why are you cleaning your studio? Starting a new project? Wanna talk about it?”

  Aunt Melanie glanced over my shoulder at Izzy before looking back at me. “Actually, I haven’t worked on anything new in a while. I thought this trip to Europe would inspire me, shake something free, but all I brought back was . . .” She motioned to her walking boot. “I think I need a change of scenery.”

  “What? You’re not moving out of Williamsburg, are you?” I asked. It was hard enough leaving tomorrow knowing that I’d always have a place to stay if I needed to when I scraped up enough money to return, but if my aunt moved, what would I do then?