Sidekick (20 page)

Where was that waiter?

“I don’t have enough evidence to write a story yet, but I’m getting close,” Pierce said pushing his glasses up his nose in a now familiar gesture. “In the meantime, they still have me writing about Ryder. They want me to come up with a name for the girl working with her.

I squirmed in my seat. It didn’t really matter anymore what the papers called me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t just a teensy bit invested in the name they came up with. “Well, from what I’ve seen, it should be something strong, clever…and definitely sexy!”

He wrinkled his nose. “Really? I don’t think we’re watching the same footage. Either way, my editor wants to run with the title ‘Hair-Raising Bomb Scare at the Opera House’. Hey! Maybe I should name her The Hairball.” He splayed his hands out in front of him as though he could already see the name in print. “What do you think?”

“Absolutely not.”

“No? I’ll work on it.” He dropped his hands. “Oh! That reminds me. I got a break in the Sultana story.”

“Really?”

“I think I know who she is.” I waited as he swallowed a bite of bread. “Remember how I told you I thought I knew her from a story awhile back?”

I nodded.

“Well, just as I was falling asleep last night, it hit me…the Slaughter of the Acrobats!”

“I’m sorry?”

“Six years ago, there was a report out of this little backwash town of a teenage girl, Amber Miller, who murdered her grandfather, father and two of her brothers while they slept. Slit their throats from ear to ear,” he said making a slicing motion with his finger. “To top it off, her three year old brother, Samuel, went missing. They don’t know if she killed him too.”

“Wow.”

“The visual probably wasn’t necessary,” he said, putting his finger away. “Anyway, it turns out this girl had gone several times to the police, school counsellors—anyone who would listen—about the abuse going on in her house. But nobody did anything about it, because she had documented psychiatric problems.”

I felt the sudden need to shudder. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “So I guess she took care of the problem herself and then disappeared.”

I tried to drag my thoughts away from imagining what she must have gone through. It was just too horrible.

“Anyway, the family worked as acrobats in travelling fairs to make money…that made me think of the Sultana.” His eyes sparkled with journalistic excitement. “I could only find one grainy picture of her online, but she could definitely be the same girl…or, I guess, woman now.”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel terrified or sorry for the Sultana…Delilah…Amber. I would have questioned Pierce further, but the server came and we ordered.

When the waiter left, I still wanted to know more about the Sultana, but I decided to tackle another issue, thinking it might help me get to a place where I could tell him the truth.

I cleared my throat before saying, “Why do you hate her so much?”

“Who?” my sweet, sweet Pierce asked, looking genuinely confused.

“Ryder.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “I’m not sure if that story is really second date material. I don’t want to scare you off.”

“Ha!” I said, a little water shooting out of my nose. “I don’t even have the words for how backward that statement is.”

“I probably should explain,” he said looking down at the table. “Um, well, first, I come from a small town in the country. Cornfields for miles. Everybody knows everybody else. That kind of thing. My parents, my adoptive parents, they were real salt of the earth, decent people.”

“Were?” I asked, trying to catch his eye.

“They died a few years ago…killed.” He took a breath. “They were killed.”

“I am so sorry.”

He made a gesture with his hand as if to ward off sympathy. “They were visiting me here when it happened. I had always wanted to be this big city reporter. I probably was just trying to figure out who I was, where I came from. All I know about my birth is that it happened here.”

I said nothing. I wanted to let him talk.

“Anyway, they came to visit me, and one of the nights I had to work.” He straightened the fork resting by his plate. “Too busy, you know? I bought them tickets to a show. They were always so thrifty. They wouldn’t take a cab. So they took a streetcar instead.”

He paused. I knew he was getting to the difficult part.

“There was another bad guy then. A little like the Sultana. His name was Menace. Kind of a freaky madman type guy. He hijacked their streetcar. He had done this kind of thing before. Set accidents in motion. Always going for the biggest bang. Anarchy personified.”

I had heard something about Menace, but it was back in the years when most of my time was devoted to higher causes, like perfecting the softness of my skin.

“Anyway, he rigged the car so that when it reached its top speed, the brakes snapped. That’s when Ryder showed up.”

Just then, the server arrived with our food. Pierce smiled at him, and I suddenly wanted to cry.

“You don’t need to know the whole story. But basically it came down to Ryder having a choice. Stop the streetcar or catch Menace. She chose Menace. He’s in jail now, and my parents are dead.”

“Oh Pierce.”

I wanted so badly to reach out and touch his hand, but, somehow, I couldn’t. He looked too vulnerable, like he might shatter if I touched him.

He cleared his throat suddenly, reclaiming the strength in his voice. “I don’t deny that Ryder has done some good. But who gave her the right? The right to decide who to save and who to let die? Vigilantes are, and always have been, dangerous. They make choices and answer to no one for the consequences.”

I struggled for something to say.

I had seen his point firsthand. I didn’t want to believe that Ryder would have let the Sultana kill me on that balloon, but all signs pointed to yes.

And yet, Ryder did face consequences for her actions. The image of her lying unconsciousness covered in bandages flashed through my mind.

The only thing I did know for sure was that I was right to have walked away from Choden. If Ryder wasn’t capable of making ethical choices, what chance did I have?

“I have never seen a sadder looking woman in a turban,” he said smiling at me. “See? I knew this wasn’t second date material. Usually I don’t play the pity card until at least the third or fourth date.”

My heart warmed.

Pity. Yes, I pitied the fool who even tried not to fall in love with Pierce.

Suddenly a glass of wine was in front of me. I picked it up and chugged it.

“Are you okay, Brenda?” Pierce asked. “Have I driven you to drink?”

The wine’s warmth filled my belly then spread out to my limbs.

It was time.

Pierce had shared the most personal moment of his life with me.

I owed him the truth.

“You know what you were saying earlier about St. James Industries?”

“Uh huh?” he said sweetly.

“Well…” Words like
truth
and
identity
swirled around in my head, but they wouldn’t come out.

“Was I talking too much about work?”

“No, it’s not that,” I said shaking my head. I had to do this. We couldn’t move forward with this lie between us. “It’s—”

“I get so passionate about this kind of thing, you know? I hate that the people in the one percent get to make their own rules without stopping to think about the consequences.”

People like me
, I thought sadly. A number of memories flashed through my mind. Like once I told a housekeeper she should get her five year old a pony for her birthday. It had been my favourite gift, after all. Another day, I asked a gardener to stay late to make a topiary penis for a party. I found out the next day his wife was in the hospital. On the one hand, how could I have known, right? On the other, how could I not have known? Then there was the time I asked our sixty-seven year old cook, Maria, if she could help me bedazzle my v—well, that one wasn’t worth remembering.

“I don’t understand people like that. How can they live these obscene lives of luxury when there is so much suffering in the world?” A flush spread across his cheeks. “But Atticus St. James? His time is coming. He’s having a town hall meeting to explain his brain chip. I’m hoping I’ll have something concrete to throw at him by then.”

Suddenly his face fell.

“I did it again. I cut you off. Here I spend almost all of my day wondering about who you are, what you love, what you hate, and every time you start to tell me something I cut you off. What were you going to say?”

A voice nattered in my head.
Don’t lie, Brenda…I mean, Bremy. Tell him the truth
.

His blue eyes looked deeply into mine. “Really, you can tell me anything.”

This was it. Now or Never.

“It was nothing.”

***

The rest of our date was fine…beautiful. I was even the lucky recipient of another liquefying kiss from Pierce.

But as I walked towards The Pink Beaver, all I could think was
I am a big fat stinking liar
.

I refused to let any concrete thoughts beyond that make it into my consciousness, but they were swimming around like crocodiles underneath.

As I got closer to work, the alleys became a little darker and a little grimier. I looked around for street cams, almost wishing I could spot Bart’s electronic gaze, but there were none.

I was alone.

Oh wait, I wasn’t alone. A gang of what clearly looked to be hoodlums was walking straight towards me.

Of course they were.

Luckily, the turnoff alley to The Pink Beaver was close by. I’d be out of the way before our paths crossed.

An old woman with a shopping cart, though, wasn’t going to be as lucky.

I watched as the lady shuffled towards the gang, hunched over her cart, completely unaware of the danger.

Not my business
, I thought while hurrying towards the alley.

Sure, given everything that had happened, I might have been tempted to look at this in some way funny way—like maybe destiny was calling again. But I had my pragmatic silk turban hat on now. I needed to keep walking.

Besides, these were probably kindly young gentlemen just out for an evening stroll. They would walk right on by this vulnerable old lady with no more interaction than a jaunty tip of their caps.

Yup, that was the vision I was going to leave this scene with.

I turned the corner. I could see The Pink Beaver’s neon sign beckoning me, half a building’s length down. There was no need to take one last look over my shoulder. Everything was fine.

I looked over my shoulder.

Gah.

Sigh.

I couldn’t unsee it now.

The idiot guys had circled the old woman. As a few jostled her around, the others went through her stuff.

Suddenly a new thought occurred to me.

Maybe I couldn’t walk away, but I didn’t have to react to this in a typical Bremy fashion either.

I could do what a normal person would do.

What would a normal person do?

I snapped my fingers in the air. Call the police. That’s what people did.

I rifled around my purse for my cell phone. No phone.

Why? Why was I always so disappointing?

Now what?

I looked back to the unfolding crime scene, hoping the boys had moved on. No such luck. In fact, they were getting rougher.

Then they knocked the old woman to the ground.

Before I even had time to think about it, I heard myself shouting, “Hey!”

All eyes were on me.

Okay, I had diverted attention.

Now I needed to think, think, think.

The scary guys swaggered towards me.

I could run to The Beaver, but I wasn’t sure if that would give the old woman enough time to get away—she was getting up pretty slowly.

I needed to go with my strengths.

If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was to create a distraction. Yes, I would distract the Abercrombie and Fitch Gang Wear crew long enough for the old woman to get a head start—then I would hightail it for The Beaver.

I could do this.

The scary boys headed towards me, laughing, and slapping each other on the back.

If this was going to work, I had to come out swinging. I already had the hat. It was time to put my crazy on.

I jumped toward them with my hands out in claws and shouted as loudly as I could, “Ah Boogity Boogity Boo!”

They half-scattered, looking at each other with hysterical grins on their faces.

“Oh ho ho. You’re laughing! You’re laughing loud! You won’t be laughing soon! The end of the world is nigh!” I shouted crouching and spinning on my heel to look at each of them.

“This bitch is nuts!”

“I carry the disease! The Disease of the Apocalypse!”

I didn’t know what I was saying, but it didn’t matter. It was working. The old woman had gotten up and was shuffling away to safety.

“I’ll share my disease with you sweetheart,” one of the guys said waggling his hips.

I suddenly went very still. Then, as he was about to grab me, I barked.

Then I snapped at his hand with my teeth.

He jumped back.

I started barking like crazy, before throwing my head back to howl.

They laughed and danced around me, but I knew I was in trouble. Soon they would get bored of this. I needed to get to the safety of The Beaver.

I jumped, barked, and sidestepped my way towards the glowing pink sign of safety.

The gang shouted lewd comments after me. I ignored them all until one yelled, “Hey let’s take the bitch home! I’ve always wanted a pet to f—”

“Whoa!”

Suddenly I was more angry than worried about my physical safety.

I stood up straight.

“What is the matter with you?”

He froze. They all froze.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

My perpetrator stared at me, agog.

“In this day and age, do you really not know any better? I’ve never seen such a lack of respect towards women!”

“I’ll show you respect…bitch.” He stepped forward but looked uncertain.

“You are more than your penis, young man!”

We all stood for a second in awkward silence. But it was over quick. They came towards me. I knew I was done for.