Sleight (5 page)

I WOKE UP the next morning to the sound of an angry fly buzzing around my room. Then I realized it was my phone doing its best to vibrate off the nightstand. The number was blocked just like the numerous calls I had missed the night before, but I hit accept anyway curious to find out who it was.

“Hello.”

“Well. You picked up. Imagine that! Are you going to avoid me today too?”

My mouth felt like someone had stuffed a handful of cotton into it. “Justine.”

Her voice sounded syrupy-sweet. “Oh, and you remember my voice! I’m touched.”

“What happened to you? You’ve been gone for over a month and then you just show up? Everyone’s been trying to find you.”

“Hmmm. Well, I’ve been recovering, and discovering. Did you miss me?”

Swallowing hard, I managed to get out a hoarse response. “Miss you? We’ve all been worried sick about you. You...when you came here yesterday you looked...different. How long have you been back? Why haven’t your parents—”

“So many questions. My folks, yeah, so I haven’t seen them yet. You noticed my new look? What do you think?” she purred.

I struggled with what to say. She hadn’t seen her parents yet, but her big question of the moment was what I thought about the way she had changed her appearance?

“Cat got your tongue, Benny?” she cooed.

Clearing my throat I said, “You really need to contact your parents, and the police. You’re a big deal right now. Like national headline material. You have to report to someone.”

“No. I don’t. And as much as I want to see you I’m not going to let you tell me what to do. At least not yet,” she said.

That hadn’t won me any points and it was clear she had no problem telling me off, especially on the phone. “Let’s not do this over the phone. Can you meet me? Like, at the Emerald Cup on Spring Street?” The Emerald Cup was a popular espresso bar near the financial district in Seattle. It was always busy and therefore never short on witnesses.

“Not over the phone? I tried to talk with you face-to-face yesterday, remember?
You
were the one who blew
me
off,” she said, her voice flat.

“Yeah, well, sorry, what do you say?” I asked, my palms sweaty. Her change in tone had a decidedly hostile ring to it.

“Sure. Let’s do that. How about right now?”

“Now? Well I can get there in about twenty minutes. Will that work?” If I left the apartment building I needed to make sure Breno was okay first.

“Yeah, now. You have something else you need to do? Someone else you need to see?” she asked, her voice sounding edgier.

“Look, yeah, I have one thing I need to do first, okay? I want to see you. I’m glad you’re okay. It’s just that it was such a shock when you showed up unexpectedly.”

There was no response but I hadn’t heard the call disconnect. “Justine?”

She sighed. “I’m here. I’m sorry. It makes me glad...I’m glad you want to see me. So, half an hour?”

I looked at the time on my phone. “Twenty should be enough. I’ll hustle.”

“Okay, Benny. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up

I laid there looking at my phone wondering what I had just agreed to and whether it had been a good idea. Shaking my head I got out of bed, hit the bathroom to brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair and threw on some clothes. Grabbing a pop-tart and an energy drink out of the fridge I motored downstairs. Breno didn’t answer my knock right away and I was starting to worry that he’d bailed again when he opened the door. Other than looking a little pale he seemed okay. He’d changed into sweats and a t-shirt which was his version of pajamas.

“Hi, Benny,” he mumbled.

“Hi Breno. Hey, I’m going out. Are you going to be okay?” I asked.

Looking pointedly at my pop-tart and energy drink, he nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna wax the floor today. Mr. Goodturn would like that.”

I glanced at my toaster treat and drink, back at him, and then offered them to him. “You want this? I’ll get something while I’m out.”

Not even hesitating, he took the can and tart and immediately bit into the sugary pastry. “Thanks Benny.”

I grinned. “Sure. Look I’ll be back in a little bit, and then I’ll come by to check on you, alright?”

Bobbing his head and taking another huge bite of pop-tart he smiled. “Okay Benny.”

“Cool,” I said.

“’Kay, bye.” And he shut the door. The manners on that one.

As I walked down the short hall toward the lobby, I thought about calling Kenwoode and then decided against it. He would have some errand or chore for me to run, neither of which would have anything to do with Mr. Goodturn and he definitely wouldn’t be opening the shop today. I felt a twinge of guilt for not reading to Mr. Goodturn last night but consoled myself with the thought that rescuing Breno was quite possibly what Mr. G had wanted.

When I got to the front door I stopped dead in my tracks. Justine was outside waiting for me. She had one foot tucked behind her, balancing herself while she leaned against the building. Fighting the urge to turn around and head upstairs I grabbed the door handle and stepped out into the morning sun.

“Well, hello handsome. Long time no see. At least long time no see from my point of view,” she said, flashing a sultry smile. She was wearing different clothes, less...slutty, but still not something she would have worn a few months ago: black jacket, tight t-shirt with a pair of huge red lips on it, and very tight jeans. Her face still had the odd discoloration on the left side, and she had on less makeup.

“I thought we were going to meet at The Emerald Cup?” I said, trying to sound confident and not quite pulling it off.

She pushed off the window ledge and stepped up close to me. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have second thoughts and stand me up. Glad to see me?” she asked, tilting her head to one side, and trailing a finger down my chest. I tried not to shiver.

“Um, yeah. Let’s walk to the Cup, I’m starving,” I said, trying to act normal when it was the last thing I was feeling.

“Sounds like a plan.” She fell into step beside me and curled her arm around my waist, her hand resting on my hip. Her aggressive behavior was throwing me off.

“Where have you been? What happened to you?” I asked, trying to get control of the situation.

She leaned close and looked up at me. “Now, now, let’s not rush. I’ve been through a lot and I’m prepared to share but one step at a time.”

I couldn’t get comfortable with her physical closeness. Don’t get me wrong, despite the super short hair and changes in her appearance Justine was a very attractive girl; and what guy doesn’t want an attractive girl trying to snuggle up to him? But it felt awkward. We had been close before, but not truly intimate; and anyone watching us, and her body language, would assume we
were
intimate.

“You’re the one who came to
me
, remember? You said we had things to talk about. I’ve been feeling terrible about your being missing. I’ve been blaming myself for what happened,” I said, feeling a bit of an edge creeping into my own voice.

I felt her grip around my waist tighten. “You’ve been blaming yourself? Why?”

Stealing a quick glance at her as we crossed a street I sensed apprehension and something else buzzing inside her. Excitement? It felt weird and out of context.

“The woman who hired the men that took us, she was really after
me
. You got taken because one of them overreacted and grabbed you too. He hit you so hard that I thought...I thought he’d killed you.” In spite of myself my voice hitched. I’d really believed that she was dead.

We were passing several other people on the sidewalk so we really didn’t have any privacy but she stopped anyway and grabbed a fistful of my hoodie in each hand. She looked up at me, her expression intense. “You care. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I felt uncomfortable with the image of the two of us standing in the middle of the sidewalk having ‘a moment’ so I gently pulled one of her hands free of my sweatshirt, and turned to resume our walk. The Cup was several yards ahead of us, and I was in a hurry to have some crowd protection because of the odd vibe she was giving off.

“Look,” I said, “I’m glad you’re okay, but where have you been? I mean, it’s been almost a month.”

“Kayla’s, but only this week.”

We stepped up to the front door of The Cup. It was an espresso bar designed like a true Italian café. In addition to selling fresh roasted and brewed espresso they offered breakfast and lunch and an amazing selection of baked goods. I opened the door and held it for her. She smiled at me, shook her head at my attempt at chivalry, and walked inside. The strong aroma of fresh roasted coffee and baking bread washed over us and I could feel myself salivating. My pop-tart and energy drink gift to Breno had been my sorry plan for breakfast. We got in line, placed our orders and I paid. The weather was pretty decent so we went out through a side door and grabbed a small table outside.

When she pulled out a chair to sit down I was struck again by the differences about her. The hair, makeup and clothes were one thing but she moved differently too, more casually confident; before she had always seemed a little self-conscious. She dragged another chair closer and stretched her legs out on it. Smiling she pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and put them on.

“So, Kayla’s? But you haven’t been in contact with your parents yet?” I asked.

Her smile dimmed a bit. “No. I’ve only been at Kayla’s for a few days. Her parents are out of town. I haven’t figured out what I want to say to my folks. I’m still working on my story.”

“Story?” I asked. “Why? Do you know your mother has been coming up with her own stories trying to blame
me
? Why can’t you—”

She crossed her legs and blew out a sigh. “My mother.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk to her yet, because before I called Kayla and crashed at her place I was getting treatment for my injuries. I haven’t figured out how to explain that.”

That caught me off guard. I’d half expected some story of her being held somewhere. “Like what? Where?”

Grimacing, she said, “I’m not prepared to tell you that. Yet.”

I frowned. “The police were totally covering all of the hospitals and emergency rooms. How could you be getting treatment without them finding you?”

She shrugged.

I shook my head. “So, you’re not going to give me any details?”

“Maybe.”

“Come on. What were you treated for?” I couldn’t understand why she was being so secretive, and her eye color was still bothering me, even though I couldn’t see her eyes behind the glasses.

“Treated for everything, I guess. I got burned pretty bad,” she touched the left side of her face, “and they had to shave this side of my head because they said I was concussed and bruised. Had a huge lump on my head.”

A café server brought our drinks and my breakfast pastry to our table. I’d ordered a large double latte and a breakfast hand pie, bacon, cheese and peppers. Justine had settled on a hot tea and nothing to eat. She picked up her cup and blew on the tea, flashes of purple light shining through her sunglasses.

I wondered again what had caused the dramatic change in eye color. Last year her eyes had seemed to change color a couple of times but she’d explained it away as a rare non-threatening disease. The new color was so close to Sonja’s eyes that I felt it had to be connected.

Looking at me over the top of her cup of tea she said, “So you say that those creeps were after you. Why were they looking for you?”

The million-dollar-question. They’d been looking for me because of my knacks. Their boss, Sonja, had a knack of her own: the ability to steal someone else’s knack, but not to acquire the specific skill associated with said knack. The value for her was that once the knack was stolen she converted it into a renewed source of vitality that essentially kept her young.

There was no way I could share all of that with Justine. First, she didn’t know that I possessed any knacks let alone even know what a knack was in the first place. Second, explaining Sonja and her nasty band of hunters would open up the conversation to include Breno and Mr. Goodturn, and their stories weren’t mine to tell.

“The thugs that kidnapped us were working for a woman that had been looking for me ever since I first moved to Seattle. I pissed her off.”

Setting the cup aside, she reached up and pushed her sunglasses down so that she could make eye contact over the upper rims, the lavender irises giving me goose bumps. “Pissed her off? How?”

Crap. ‘
In for a penny in for a pound’
, as my mom used to say.

“I was in a hostel for a few months back then. She worked for CPS and was not happy that my mom wasn’t there when she interviewed me. I told her a bunch of crap to protect myself. None of it true. She figured out that I’d lied to her.”