Sidekick Returns (13 page)

I closed my eyes.

Tonight, I would sleep like a princess … without any damn peas.

***

One moment I was asleep, the next I was listening to my phone buzz on the toilet.
Uh-oh
. I checked the time. Seven o'clock.

I left my phone off all yesterday, not really wanting to talk to anyone about what had happened, but I turned it on again before bed. I knew I couldn't avoid this moment. If I didn't answer, then Mr Pushkin would track me down some other way, and then I'd never make it to Nepal. Yup, Nepal. At some point yesterday, my subconscious started to think that maybe Nepal wasn't such a bad idea. Not bad at all. I could take in some mountain air, build up some defence training that went beyond screaming and running, and then maybe, just maybe, I'd live to see another Bremy St. James Day Parade. Not that I would actually go. All that screaming had left me with a headache. So, yes, it was decided. I was definitely going to Nepal … maybe.

‘Hello?'

‘You have been very bad girl,' Mr Pushkin said. He inflected the middle of the word
girl
into a singsong voice, which made sense, because killing people probably did make him happy.

‘I know,' I said quickly. ‘I'm sorry. It was a mistake. I will pay you back. I just—'

‘Now, now, Little Bremy, that is not what I meant,' he interrupted, merriment still jingling in his diphthongs. I took a linguistics class once. The only thing I really took away was that I liked to say the word diphthong. Diphthong. I had pockets of genius.
Focus, Bremy
. ‘But now you bring it up, I say that you will pay me back,' Mr Pushkin said with a scary amount of certainty, ‘and I will tell you how Little Bremy … or should I say Little Chicken.'

My brow crinkled in confusion.
Little Chicken?
Little Chicken! I slapped my still crinkled forehead. ‘I hear you put on the big show.'

‘Oh, not really,' I said, jumping up to pace the three steps of my apartment. ‘It was over pretty quick. I was actually pretty terrified the entire time and with good reason. Those women—'

‘Yes, terrified,' he nearly shouted. ‘That is the ticket.'

I froze. ‘I'm sorry?'

‘You see, Little Bremy. Underground wrestling is having tough time. Nobody believes it is real. The women they try to wear silly costumes and make the growls, but the terror, that is what the people want.'

I really did not like where this is going.

‘You, Little Bremy-Chicken, you gave the people the terror, and now, they want more.'

And there it was. Funny how you could still feel like throwing up without any food in your belly. ‘Oh, I don't know, Mr Push—'

‘I have friend. He says you and I, we make big money for just little bit of your time.'

‘You and I?' I asked, my eyes darting around my apartment, probably looking for a way out.

‘Yes, of course, Little Bremy, you need manager, otherwise you might have to do something you don't want to do.'

I started to laugh, but it came out more as a sigh. ‘Really, Mr Pushkin, there has to be some other way I can pay you back.'

‘Of course. Sure, Little Bremy. There is other way you can pay me back,' he said before pausing. He liked toying with me. ‘That way is with money. Right now. Otherwise I will have t—'

‘I know. I know!' I spat out. ‘You'll pull off my fingernails or eyelids or my freakin' legs like some poor fly. I get it already!'

‘You sound upset, Little Bremy,' he said in his sad voice. ‘Did date with pretty big man not go well?'

I sighed again. ‘Actually, it was okay. I mean we have some issues, but— Wait! How do you know he is pretty big man?'

‘What can I say? I worry,' he said. ‘Now, you have money?'

‘No,' I said with a pout I hadn't used since prep school.

‘Then you fight. If you win, we make more money. You show terror first to make crowd happy, then you come back like the underwear.'

‘The underwear?' My eyebrows met one another to confer. They were confused too. ‘Oh, I think you mean underdog.'

‘Yes, that is right. The underdog. You're so helpful, Little Chicken.' He sounded so happy that I imagined the skull in glass eye was grinning too. ‘Alright then. I see you Friday.'

‘Wait! Friday! I can't Friday. I have this … thing!' Friday was the night of the museum! Maybe I had lost Ryder, but I couldn't lose Pierce too! Although … now my father wanted me at the museum, and that couldn't be good. But I couldn't leave Pierce to face whatever my father had planned all alone. I clutched my forehead with my free hand. I couldn't be expected to think my way through all of this first thing in the morning!

Mr Pushkin's voice cut into my thoughts. ‘Your match is at midnight. They save best for last. You have plenty of time, no?'

‘No!'

‘Bremy,' he said with the warning of an apocalypse.

‘I mean, yes. I guess so.'

‘You're like princess with glass slipper,' Mr Pushkin said before his voice took on a sharp edge, ‘who rams spiked heel into opponent's eye. It hurts. I know.'

I closed
my
eyes and shook my head. ‘I'm sure it does.'

‘Okay. See you Friday.'

‘Yeah, see y—'

‘Oh wait! Bremy!'

‘Yes?'

‘You had better go see Mr Raj. He is not very happy with you. I told him I help you make extra money, but he says he would like to have talk with you anyway.'

‘Great,' I muttered. ‘Thanks.'

‘Okay, have good day.'

‘You have good day too.' I flopped back on my bed, and let my head shake side to side in both wonderment and disgust. Well, on the bright side, at least I wasn't dead. Then again, a girl can only say that so many times before it starts to feel a little empty.

***

An hour or four later, I woke up once again to the sound of my phone. I groaned.

I hadn't meant to fall back asleep, but I was really tired—must have been all the trauma. I peeked one eye over to my phone and shot up from bed. Pierce!

Well, this was an unexpectedly delicious surprise.

‘Hello?'

‘Bremy, thank God! I've been going crazy trying to reach you. I must have called a hundred times yesterday. Your voicemail is full.'

‘Sorry, my phone was off.'

‘I came by your place, but I couldn't get in, and the intercom doesn't work.'

‘Yeah, we've got state-of-the-art security round here,' I mumbled. ‘I'm sorry. Yesterday was kind of a weird day.'

‘So you saw the float?'

‘I was there.'

‘You were,' he began. I could practically see his brain working, behind his cute little glasses, over the phone. ‘That was you … the person who threw herself in front of the float, wasn't it?' I did not like the slight sound of … what? Disappointment? Resignation? Sadness? Whatever it was, I did not like the sound of it in his voice.

I clicked my tongue. ‘Yep, that was me.'

He sighed. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Totally.' It was hard to get the word out over all the pain and humiliation that was rolling its way back over me.

We were both silent for a moment. I guess throwing myself in front of a huge moving vehicle wasn't exactly reassuring for Pierce, what with his whole fear of losing people issue.

‘Right,' he said after a few more beats. ‘Well, I'm glad you're okay.'

‘I am.'

Another heavy silence fell between us.

‘Has your father made any other contact with you?'

‘Well,' I said, thinking about the invitation to the museum … the invitation I totally didn't want to tell Pierce about in case he tried to stop me from going. I knew he'd still go. He'd have to get the story. Time to redirect. ‘Not exactly.'

‘Right,' he said with another heavy sigh. He totally knew I was lying. Or at least not telling him everything. ‘I have news about Ryder. She was spotted last night.'

‘Oh, good for her.'

‘I …' he trailed off, I guess waiting for me to explain, but I was in no mood. ‘Listen, Bremy, it's starting to look like maybe Ryder isn't well. She was literally shouting things from the rooftops, and skyscrapers, for that matter. Gibberish-type things.'

My hand flew to my head. ‘What?'

‘People are starting to think she's … mentally unstable,' Pierce said in his most careful voice.

‘Pierce … I gotta go.'

‘What? Why?' he asked quickly. ‘What's going on?'

‘This changes everything,' I said. ‘But I don't have time to talk right now. I'll explain everything at the museum.'

‘Bremy, I—'

‘I really got to go.'

‘Okay, but Bremy?'

‘Yes?' I asked, squeezing my eyes shut

‘Please be careful.'

‘Careful?' I asked with a laugh. ‘Oh thank God, I thought you were going to break up with me again. No problem. I'm always careful. Mostly.'

‘Maybe more careful than usual?'

I exhaled. ‘I'll try.'

‘I just …'

‘What?'

‘I just wish sometimes you were a little more … afraid.'

A laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it.

‘What?'

‘It's nothing. It's just … that's really funny.'

‘Right,' he said sharply. ‘Hilarious. Bye, Bremy.'

‘No Pierce, it's funny because—' But he had already hung up. I banged the phone against my forehead and whispered, ‘because I am scared … so scared. All the time.'

Chapter 17

My head was spinning. Yes, I had screwed up with Pierce again, but that was just one of many problems.

I hopped out of bed and paced the few steps available to me in my room.

Ryder was acting strangely. And it wasn't just me thinking it anymore.

Now, what was I supposed to do with this information?

First, it was important to note that I had been right along. Oh yeah, everybody had shot my Ryder theories down. But I was right. Something
was
up with her. And as her sidekick, I needed to find out what that something was. Mental illness was a possibility, but there were others … and my father was behind most of them.

Second, I wasn't going to change my date with true love and hide under my bed just because my father had left a horse's head on my pillow in the form of a really great coat. No, I was going to that museum event. Aside from making things right with Pierce. I needed to make sure my father didn't hurt him … or anyone else for that matter. Besides, I needed a word with my father about Ryder. Two birds. One dress.

Third … dammit! Why did I always get stuck on the third. Oh, right! There would be no going to Nepal. I was way too busy now.

I turned the faucet of my little sink, and splashed some cold water onto my face to clear my thoughts. I needed to prioritise. Okay, the dress. I needed the moment Pierce would see me to be beautiful, epic. Queenie could work magic, but not if she didn't have something to work with, and to get her something to work with, I would need money.

Gah. Money. I tapped my chin a few times to aid my thinking.

Things always seemed to come down to money. A montage of shopping trips past flew through my mind's eyes. Life had been so easy back in day. I had taken so many things for granted. I gave my head a shake. I needed to focus on the here and now. Where could I get my hands on some money?

Work
, I thought, snapping my fingers. That's where people got money. Sure, Mr Raj wasn't thrilled with me at the moment, but he was a firm believer in indentured servitude, and I was desperate. He did say he wanted to see me, after all.

I threw on some clothes, gave my teeth a quick water brush—I needed to save my last squeeze of toothpaste for the museum—flung the door open, and rocketed into the hallway—right into a Grim Reaper.

My eyes travelled up, up, up the tall man standing in front of me. When I reached his face, I had to stop them from plummeting right back down. He was young, but had a slicked back patch of white hair, shaved at the sides, the palest blue eyes I had ever seen, and white, nay, almost bluish skin. He was dressed in a plain black suit.

‘Hello,' I said carefully. ‘Are you … you're not here for me, are you?

‘No.' His voice carried the warmth of an arctic night.

‘Oh thank God,' I said, clutching my chest and laughing. ‘I mean, really, I can't take much more.'

I moved past him down the hall, but I looked back over my shoulder just before I walked down the stairs.

Uh-oh.
Was he knocking on Queenie's door? Bart wouldn't like that.

I turned my head back around. Nope. My
To Do List
only had so much room. There was no way I was going to be able to take this on too.

I hustled down the stairs and out into the day.

***

Twenty minutes later, I swung open the outer door to The Pink Beaver. I stepped inside, gave myself a shake, and took a deep breath.
Act confident
, I thought as I straightened my shoulders. I needed to look like a grown-up, responsible woman, someone who a person would be comfortable loaning money to.

Suddenly the door snapped shut behind me, whacking me on the butt. I stumbled forward, but quickly shot back up, straightening and smoothing my hair from my face. Well, it was a good thing I had gotten that little bit of embarrassment out of the way. Wouldn't want to do that in front of Mr Raj.

I strode down the darkened hallway and paused again at the end with my hand on the door handle that led inside.

I again inhaled deeply. Time for a few self-fulfilling prophecy-type affirmations.
I would get the money I needed from Mr Raj. I would prove that I wasn't judgey. I would be cool and confident. I would be the personification of dignity.

I opened my eyes and swung open the door.

SPLASH.

Chapter 18