Infinite Risk (13 page)

“How is it?” he asked, anxious.

“Good. I like being able to see your face.”

His mouth twisted. “Funny. I see you weren't kidding about changing things up.”

I resisted the urge to ask his opinion. “I'm hoping it'll be easier to manage.”

“Since you lopped off eight inches, it'd be pretty messed up if it was harder.”

“Smart-ass. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, I need to get home. My uncle will be around this weekend, and he said something about hanging out.” Kian seemed stoked for that, practically running to the bus stop so we could catch the next one.

We got off at my stop, but he had to wait for a transfer. I waved as I headed for the Baltimore, but instead of going straight there, I stopped at the bodega. José had a line of customers and somebody had broken a bottle of beer, so I got the mop while he focused on the register. After I removed the glass, it seemed like a waste to do only one spot, so I mopped the whole store. Soon the crowd thinned out and I finished cleaning, then left the yellow
WET FLOOR
sign out just in case.

“You showed up just in time,” he said.

“What else do you need me to do?”

Glancing around the small shop, he locked onto the aisles of canned goods. “The shelves haven't been cleaned in a while…”

“Okay, I'm on it.”

It took me a couple of hours to move everything, wipe the grime off the metal units, and replace the stock. The bodega would be open for hours still, but I was tired. The awkward thing about working under the table was, I couldn't just put what I wanted in a basket. First José had to tell me what he thought my efforts were worth. He came out from behind the counter and walked down the narrow aisles, checking out the situation.

“This is fantastic. And you did the floor earlier. If you restock the drink cooler before you go, I can give you thirty in groceries.”

Wow. That was the most I'd gotten so far. “Thanks. That'll help a lot.”

“You ever gonna tell me your story?” he asked as I headed for the cooler.

“Probably not.”

“How come?”

“It's implausible,” I said. “So you wouldn't believe me anyway.”

“Try me. I got a cousin who was abducted by aliens, my hand to God.” José went on a five-minute digression only interrupted by Luisa coming in the front door, tired from a long day of doing whatever she did for the city of Cross Point.

“Are you telling her about your cousin? Paco has problems; everybody knows this.”

That started a small squabble about whether his history of mental illness made him an unreliable witness, which I used to escape into the cooler. This was mindless work—fill from the back, ensure the old stuff ends up in front. Half an hour later, I stepped out, shivering but done. Luisa had gone upstairs, but José had a care package for me in addition to the staples I took my time in selecting.

“I probably won't be in this weekend,” I said as he bagged my stuff.

“Somehow I will soldier on.”

His sarcasm made me smile; it took the edge off accepting help that I wasn't sure he truly needed, and that put this job half a step above charity. Still, today I'd finished some gross chores that were off his plate. I doubted he and Luisa were getting rich from the bodega, but since it was the only shop in the neighborhood, they seemed to sell a steady stream of drinks, liquor, snacks, cigarettes, and lottery tickets.

I waved, stepping out into the bitter wind past the tinkle of the bell. There were a few others out in the gloaming, two waiting for the bus, and one probably just got off it. Everyone had knit hats on with their collars pulled up. Returning to the Baltimore didn't even bother me; I'd gotten used to my temporary life. The cleaning cart was sitting in the middle of the hallway when I reached my floor, but the housekeeper was nowhere in sight. With a mental shrug, I borrowed the vacuum and hauled it to my room, where I ran it over the carpet and then used the hose to suck up the dust everywhere I could reach.

She was waiting with a ferocious frown when I returned it. “Are you trying to get me fired? You're not supposed to do that.”

“Sorry. I thought I'd save you the trouble.” Also, she didn't really
clean
the rooms, though she was supposed to do so once a week. From the way she walked, I suspected she had back problems, likely from a lifetime of scrubbing.

“Ask first next time.” But she didn't seem quite so pissed.

Deciding that was as far as the conversation went, I retraced my steps to lock my door, then jogged down the stairs. I'd memorized the bus schedule, so I knew the one I wanted would be there in seven minutes. As I stepped out into a drizzle of freezing rain, I tugged up my hood and increased my pace, hoping to reach the stop before the sky opened up.
Any colder and this would be snow,
I thought.
Am I making your life worse, Wedderburn?
Probably not, but I smirked anyway, picturing his frustration as one of his anticipated pawns started making unanticipated moves, thus messing up his game.

An elderly woman was already waiting when I skidded up, sneakers losing traction on the newly slick sidewalk. “Careful, there,” she chided with a faint accent.

“Sorry.”

“It's been such a winter. I haven't seen this much ice and snow since we left Siberia.”

I couldn't tell if that was a joke, but she looked like she
could
be Russian, though it was hard to tell with the handmade muffler wrapping most of her face. “It's bad all right.”

“And you're running around without a proper coat. Do you want to catch pneumonia?”

This conversation was weird, but sometimes old people came across like life-choice missionaries, obligated to point out everybody's failings. I was in no mood to listen to it, however, so I said, “Of course not. But some people can't afford coats.”

“Oh dear.” It horrified me when she dug into her purse with trembling fingers.

“Look, my bus is here.” I fled before she could offer me a dollar. Nice people made it impossible to be a practicing curmudgeon.

Exhaling in relief when she didn't get on, I picked a seat near the back and leaned against the window. Six stops later, I got off the bus, silently mocking myself.
Only I would test a fake ID to see if it can get me a library card.
Friday night, an hour before closing, the place was pretty much deserted apart from the staff.

“I'd like a—”

Before I could finish, the librarian gave me a form. She glanced at my ID, keyed some information, and then gave me a plastic card with a barcode on it. I took it, along with two stapled pages. “Here's all the pertinent info, including branch locations and hours.”

To me, this was way more exciting than getting into a bar. Even if shit got rough, as long as I had unlimited access to fiction, I could power through to the end, whatever that might be for me. I spent half an hour browsing and chose two books with a happy flutter in my chest. Books had always, always saved me, time and again. This timeline would be no exception.

Darkness wreathed the city when I came out of the library. The bus was full of excited people heading to a club or maybe a sporting event. From what I could tell, most of them knew one another, and I stood near the front, hanging from a strap. Funny how lonely it was here. Now. The more people Kian knew, the less time he'd have for me. That was a good thing, right?

Right.

My parents were alive, but I couldn't talk to them. Yet that didn't stop me from pausing at a payphone and feeding coins into it.
I shouldn't dial this number.
My fingers did it anyway.

On the third ring, Mom picked up and her crisp “hello” cramped my chest so I could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
She's alive. She's really alive.
Tears froze in my eyes and didn't fall. I heard my dad murmuring about dinner getting cold in the background. Twelve-year-old Edie would probably be annoyed when she had to stop fiddling with her geode collection to eat brown rice and poached fish.

Mom repeated the “hello” with rising annoyance.

“I'm calling to ask if you're happy with your long-distance carrier.” That was a safe gambit, no matter the year.

“Not interested,” she practically sang.

Dial tone hummed in my ear. Slowly, I hung up the receiver and turned. The Harbinger was waiting in the shadow of the closest building. He pushed away from the crumbling brick to close the distance between us, something sweet and sinister in his aspect. Tonight he was Colin, an ageless musician holding a battered violin case in one arm like a bouquet of roses.

“Your heartache is excruciating,” he said.

“Sorry.” And I was, for so many things.

“Don't apologize. The fact that it abates a bit when I appear? There are no words for such a gift.” His tone was silken ropes and unseen snares, and—

I didn't care. When he set down his case and opened his arms, I went.

 

THROWING A KILLER PARTY

When I arrived at the meeting point, a full fifteen minutes early, someone was already waiting. It took me a few seconds to realize it was Kian, mostly because he had on a different coat and new glasses. They were blue and rectangular with a definite hipster air, and more to the point, they completely changed his look. He turned and caught me staring; freezing, he ran a sheepish hand through his hair.

He's adorable.

Between the glasses, the belted jacket, and the cargo pants, I saw echoes of the person he would become.
If he survives.

He has to survive.

“You're making me feel weird,” he mumbled.

“Sorry. I like the upgrade. Your uncle took you shopping?”

“Yeah. I … talked to him about some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Things I need … and the fact that I want to spend more time with him.” He offered a half smile and went on. “I took a page from your book. I mean, you're so fearless. I figured I didn't have anything to lose by opening my mouth.”

“How did it go?”

“We went to a basketball game last night … and then he took me to a one-hour optical place this morning. He also said he'll talk to my aunt.” He didn't sound hopeful, but any progress on the family front relieved the hell out of me.

“That's great,” I said.

“Yeah, it was a good talk.”

“How come you didn't say anything before?”

“I don't know.” He hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind, and I could tell there was something he didn't want to confide.

I haven't known him that long after all.

“Well, I'm glad it helped a little.”

“I think that's Carmen,” he said, obviously wanting to change the subject.

But I turned to look and spotted a blue minivan pulling up near the bus stop. Carmen waved to us from the driver's seat; she had a couple of passengers already, but we were waiting for three more yet. Kian and I piled in and crawled all the way to the back. Evidently, Carmen had a bunch of siblings because the floor was littered with toys that suited kids of all ages, plus fast-food wrappers and empty soda cans.

“You'd think these lazy asses could show up in time for a free ride,” Carmen said five minutes later.

“They're probably on the next bus,” Devon guessed.

Vonna nodded, then said to Kian, “Cool glasses.”

I suspected he was blushing when he said, “Thanks.”

It turned out that Devon was right, as Nathan, Amanda, and Elton arrived together, getting off the number twenty-seven, which came from the north side of town. Once everyone settled in, Carmen took off. This was the most I'd seen of Cross Point, as we left the downtown area, passed the school, and kept going west into suburbs and then finally countryside. Leaning forward, I measured the distance between houses and had the eerie feeling that anything could happen out here. Of course, I
had
been raised in Boston, so I was used to lots of people and buildings, not wide-open spaces.

“Jake wasn't kidding when he said his parties never get raided, huh?”

Vonna nodded. “Their nearest neighbors are like a mile away.”

“Have you been to one out here before?” Kian asked her.

She shook her head. “Nah. We don't rate high enough … or at least we
didn't
.”

“I'm not sure why you got us added to the A-list,” Devon said, “but this should be a night to remember.”

Famous last words, right?

The house came into sight around the next bend, an impressive Federal-style home set behind an even more impressive fence. Perimeter lights blazed like beacons along the paved road that led up to the redbrick structure. A pool house sat adjacent, newer construction. I'd thought Cameron Dean's place was fancy, but this was a whole different level. I'd pictured an upscale four-bedroom in the middle of suburbia or maybe a farmhouse. This was more like an estate.

“Holy shit,” Devon said.

The gate opened after a brief conversation with Jake. Inside, twenty cars were lined up single file down the drive, and music thumped with insistent bass, cracking the stillness of the winter night. Snow piled up on either side of the walk created a sense that we were entering a winter fortress, an impression that freaked me out for oh-so-many reasons. Beyond the house, the grounds were wreathed in white, so the lights reflected in tiny crystals of brightness. We went in the front, stepping into an impressive foyer that led into an enormous space, complete with fireplace, multiple couches, marble floors, chandelier, and wet bar. The locale was more upscale than I'd anticipated, though the dress code didn't seem to be.

“Check this place out.” Devon nudged me.

“It's crazy,” I agreed.

“What time are we heading out?” Vonna asked.