Sidekick Returns (9 page)

The kid quickly scurried out of the store.

‘I don't believe it,' I muttered. ‘Un-freaking-believable.'

‘What?' Bart asked, looking confused. ‘He had an early X-Men. I hit him with Billy Ray Cyrus's comic book debut. It could be considered a collector's item, but I still feel dirty having it in my shop.'

‘Not that!' I shouted.

‘Then what?'

‘I have been running all over town trying to stop just one crime! Just one!' I yelled putting up my
just one
finger. ‘And you! You do it without even trying!

Bart shrugged. ‘Okay, maybe it's time you tell me what happened to your nose.' He then moved back behind the counter and pushed a metal stool in my direction. I shuffled over and sat down before launching into my story. A few minutes later, when I was through, Bart shook his head and said, ‘What do you have planned for tonight? Incite holy war? Blow up the moon?'

‘It's not like I planned it that way.' I blinked my eyes a few times. They were feeling all watery again.

‘Yeah, no.' He sucked air in between his teeth. ‘It didn't have a
planned
sort of feel to it.'

‘Bart?' I asked, planting my chin on my hands. ‘Do you think I'm a bad person?'

‘What?' he asked. ‘Where did that come from?'

I shrugged. ‘All the strippers at the Beaver think I'm judgey, and I think I might be racist because I really believed that all Russians drank vodka, you know, like all the time.'

‘I see.' He picked at something at the side of his teeth. ‘Okay, well, first let me say, I resent you for dragging me into this girl conversation, but, now that I'm in it, no, I don't think you're a bad person. I mean, you are definitely judgey and probably racist—and your co-workers most likely prefer the term
dancer
—but, in your defence, you're the daughter of a white billionaire. How could you not be those things?'

I blew air heavily out through my lips. ‘So, that makes it okay?'

‘No, not at all.' He scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘But … well, let's just say you're getting better all the time.'

‘You are a terrible friend,' I said, shaking my head. ‘
We
are terrible friends.'

‘You're welcome.'

I sighed. ‘Anyway, forget all that.' I waved a hand in the air. ‘We need to start figuring out what's going on with Ryder. She's not herself. She never would h—' I stopped when I realised Bart was patting me on the shoulder. I straightened up with a snap to my spine. ‘What are you doing?'

He patted me a few more times. ‘There. There.'

I back-slapped him on the arm.

‘Ow,' he said, rubbing the spot. ‘You know I bruise easily. It was a gesture of sympathy. I'm trying to be a better friend.'

‘I know what it was!' I practically shouted. ‘But I don't like what that pat was implying. I don't need sympathy. What I
need
is help getting to the bottom of the what's wrong with Ryder.'

‘Or,' Bart said, drawing out the word, ‘you need help accepting that maybe Ryder's not that into you. I feel like we've been down this road before.'

‘What!'

‘Look,' he said, exhaling dramatically, ‘you have to admit, the fact that she took you on as her apprentice was pretty out there. Not so out there when she needed access to your father, but now that she doesn't need that access …'

‘You … you … too!' I yelled. ‘I can't believe you're saying this right now! You were there! At the prison! When we were all working together as a team?'

‘Look. I don't want to accept it either,' he said, shaking his head while looking up at the exposed industrial beams of the ceiling. ‘After Queenie, Ryder is the most phenomenal woman in the universe. But that's just it. We don't fit into her world. And I'm including myself in this,' he said, patting his chest, ‘and you know how much I think of myself.'

‘No. No.' I shook my head side to side so violently that I had to grip the counter. ‘I refuse to accept that.'

‘Come on, Bremy. She pretty much told you to get lost. You haven't heard from Choden. I just think it's time to accept that it might be over,' he said, getting to his feet. ‘Do you want to order food? I'm still hungry.'

‘I'm not breaking bread with you, you traitor of dreams! I'm too angry to eat.' But we both knew that wasn't true. ‘That being said, if you're ordering, I got a flyer for this new place.' I reached around and slid the leaflet I had gotten in the mail from my back pocket and passed it to Bart.

‘I can see why you don't want to face this.' He pushed his stool to the side and moved over to grab his phone. ‘But if you take some time and really think about it Bremy, I think you'll realise—'

‘Stop!'

Bart froze.

I scuttled forward and peered at the back of the flyer. ‘I think I'll realise that I am an idiot!'

‘That's kind of a given. But what's wrong with Tex Mex Asian?' he asked. ‘I've seen you eat worse. I know I have. In fact—'

‘Not that!' I yelled, peering closer. ‘This is not just a flyer! It's a note! From Choden!'

‘What?' Bart turned the flyer over to see where I was pointing. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘There,' I said, pointing at the little smiling cartoon Buddha saying,
Hope to see y'all soon
. ‘That's Choden.'

‘Wow,' Bart said slowly. ‘Maybe I should have taken your whole racism confession more seriously.'

‘No! Don't you get it? Where
East Meets West
?' I said, slapping my chest. ‘I'm West!'

‘That is so far-fetched even far-fetched needs a telescope to see what you're talking about.'

I snatched the flyer out of his hand. ‘No, Choden knows how I think! I like food. I like little cartoon men.' Tingles were running all over my body. ‘And I must have gotten like a dozen of these. And look!' I said with a gasp. ‘Numbers!'

‘Bremy, I—'

‘But what do the numbers mean? One, nine, zero, zero, ‘I said, pyramiding my index fingers and tapping them against my chin. ‘Nineteen hundred. Nineteen hundred.'

Bart flipped the flyer over again. ‘Not that I want to feed into this delusion,' he said. ‘But it could be a time.'

‘What time?' I asked quickly. ‘One thousand nine hundred is not a time.'

Bart rubbed his forehead. ‘Okay, now you're hurting me. It's military time.'

‘The military has its own time? Can they just do that?' I asked. ‘I mean, I know time is relative—'

‘Seven o'clock, Bremy! It's seven o'clock!'

I jumped then slapped him again on the shoulder. ‘Good work, Bart!'

‘No,' he said, shaking his head. ‘I will not let you put this one on me.'

I beamed a smile from ear to ear. ‘I knew it! This is fabulous! I told you Ryder was into me.'

He squinted his eyes. ‘I worry about you. You know that, right?'

‘Aw, that is so sweet, Bart,' I said, still looking at the flyer. ‘I worry about you too.'

We both sat back down on our stools for a moment, not saying anything. Bart then made a face and pulled out a bag of chips from under the counter. ‘Right, well, seeing as you have lots of time before you go chasing rabbits, tell me more about this feeling you had when you saw Queenie.'

***

I only got lost twice following Bart's directions to the restaurant. Eventually I ended up standing in front of a rectangular building with a large sign, above a wall of windows. It was a flashing neon sign, actually. First, it outlined a cowboy with a lasso wrapped around what looked like a frightened Asian cook. Then the lights flipped and it was an Asian cook throwing knives at the cowboy. Sheesh, and people say I'm offensive. Part of my brain told my feet to get moving towards the door, but they didn't seem to be listening. ‘Are you nervous, girls?' I looked down at my feet, but they didn't answer. I nodded with understanding. ‘Me too.'

It was silly. There was no need to be nervous. I was going to open the door, spot Choden's smiling face, listen to his apology, and then get everything back on track. So why did I feel like I had a belly full of frogs? It was probably because my head was bursting with
What ifs
. What if Choden was playing good cop to Ryder's bad? What if he was going to be the one to dump me gently? What if he was just trying to clean up his aura by apologising? What if he wasn't in there at all? What would I do next? And did this place sell pie?

No. No way. Choden was in there, and nobody was dumping me. Not Pierce. Not Choden. Not Ryder. Besides, who said anything about dumping? I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders. I then jumped up and down a few times and flailed my arms around to shake the nerves out my fingers. As I was jumping, I scanned the row of booths lining the wall of windows that peered onto the street. No sign of Choden.

It didn't mean anything. I couldn't see all of the booths from this vantage point.

I let out the breath I was holding. This was ridiculous. I just needed to go in.

I hopped up the few concrete steps that led into the building. The layout was very much like that of a diner, which made sense, given that it was one. There was a store-length counter with stools, and small tables filled the rest of the space between the booths lining the walls.

I nodded at the grumpy-looking cook with the greasy apron and made my way down the centre aisle. My eyes tracked from one side of the space to the other. Deserted. I felt my shoulders slump. Maybe it
had
all been wishful thinking. My feet slowed their walk down the aisle. Maybe Bart was right. Maybe I had been looking for signs where there were none. I slowed my steps even further. There was just one more booth at the end I couldn't quite see. I passed empty table after empty table. Maybe I was as delusional as everybody seemed to think I was.

Last booth. It was shielded by a coat rack. I took one final step forward, peeked around, and … empty. All empty.

‘Hello Child.'

‘Wah!' I spun around. There, sitting in a booth that had been empty just moments ago …

Choden.

Chapter 10

‘How did you …?'

He smiled.

‘Never mind,' I said, sliding into the booth across from him. ‘It doesn't matter.' Nope, all that mattered was that I was right, right, right! I allowed myself two full seconds to enjoy the sensation. I was so going to tell Bart
I told you so
. I took a breath to refocus. Me and my mentor's mentor had a lot of things to work out.

We looked one another over. Him, with his signature peace and love smile. Me, hoping I looked sceptical and hard to win over. Neither one of us said anything for a moment. I certainly wasn't going to go first. I was playing it cool. I was— ‘Please Choden. Tell me it wasn't all a lie. You liked me, right?' I slapped my hand over my mouth. Dammit!

Choden reached across the table and gently gripped my wrist to bring my hand down from my lips.

‘I believe I owe you an apology.'

‘You certainly do.' I noticed my bottom lip was quivering. I bit it hard before mumbling, ‘Murky brown karma hurts, doesn't it?'

Choden's thin eyebrows raised slightly in question, but then he let them drop. ‘These have been difficult times.'

‘You're telling me,' I said, not really sure what he meant by that at all, but agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

‘My invitation to meet was perhaps not very clear?' he asked, once again raising his brows.

‘Not clear at all.'

‘I am sorry. I thought it best to be cautious.' He tapped the table lightly with two fingers. ‘I have been coming to this restaurant for many nights,' he said. ‘I have grown rather fond of their barbequed rice.'

‘Really?' I asked, straightening. ‘Many nights?'

‘Of course,' he said. Happy tingles ran all over my body. ‘I knew it! I knew it wasn't over. I knew Ryder meant it when she said—'

‘Slow down, Child.'

Something in his voice made me stop more than the hand he had suddenly placed on my arm.

‘Choden?'

‘I am here because I would like to apologise on behalf of myself and my daughter, and I would like to,' he paused briefly, ‘offer you something of a warning.'

Cold dread gripped my belly. I didn't need an apology. What I needed was hope. What I needed was to be part of something bigger. What I needed was for people to stop abandoning me. And a warning? Was he going to tell me to give up my freelance crime-fighting work? It wasn't bad enough that they were dumping me? Now, they didn't want me as competition either? No. No way.

‘Does this place have pie?' I asked suddenly.

‘It does,' he replied. ‘Would you like some pie?'

‘I would,' I said, nodding tightly. I would order every item on the menu to stop Choden from saying what I suspected he was going to say next.

Choden got up and walked over to the counter as I madly blinked tears away. I was going to have to look into having my overactive tear ducts removed. They were really getting to be a problem.

Minutes later, he came back to the table with a plate of apple pie and vanilla ice-cream with a side of eggrolls. He did know me so well.

‘Please, eat,' he said, gently placing the plates in front of me.

I dug in, but I was finding it difficult to taste the food. It was time to take control of this situation. I pointed my fork at Choden and said, ‘Just so you know, we're not breaking up.'

He smiled.

‘You said I was in. There are no take-backs in crime fighting. In fact, we've been getting behind on my training. Maybe we should start tomorrow. I hate those knuckle push-ups, but—'

He again placed a hand on mine. ‘We haven't been fair to you.' I was about to speak again, but he stopped me with a gentle shake of his head. ‘When we said you were to be Ryder's apprentice, we both meant it.' He looked away briefly. ‘The situation has changed, I'm afraid.'