Reality (The Girl in the Box Book 52), page 24
“Hmm,” Scarlet said. “I'm looking to be the trendsetter, not the trend follower. Show me something else.”
Scott witnessed her try on a half dozen rings before deciding on one and ringing it up. Scarlet stared at it with muted satisfaction before having the clerk pack it back in the box. She tried to hand him the bag, but he shook his head. “I can't accept anything from you that might keep my hands tied up,” he said, when she frowned at him. “I need them free in case someone attacks you.”
“Whatever,” she said, taking the bag and carrying it herself. “Guess I'll just do this the old-fashioned way.”
As they stepped outside, Traverton grabbed the door and beckoned to Scott. “Getting a bad vibe off this guy,” he said, inclining his head toward the homeless dude on the sidewalk. The man was in rags, smelled like he'd been sleeping rough for a few months, had no shoes.
The guy popped up the second that Scarlet made it out and charged her.
Scott threw his hand out past Scarlet, whipping together a thin sheen of water and shoving it out at the guy. It was a thin shield, only a few microns thick, but he threw it with everything he had.
It slapped into the homeless guy and knocked him off his feet, clotheslining him as if he had been run over by a car. He landed hard on the sidewalk and the water lost integrity, splashing down around him. The guy spluttered, looking up. “What the hell was that?”
“Stay back,” Scott said, interposing himself between the guy and Scarlet as he hustled her to the limo.
“I just wanted a buck!” the guy shouted. There was a soft glow around his hand; meta. “I'm hungry.”
“I bet you are,” Traverton said, opening the limo door. “What would fill you up? Meth? Fentanyl?”
“Screw you!” the homeless guy called after them. “None of your damned business!” The light faded from his hand, and he seemed content to sit in the wetness. “I just wanted a buck.”
“I don't have a buck,” Scarlet said, looking back over her shoulder at him. Scott managed to get her into the limo, then he and Traverton slid in behind her. She watched the guy out the window as the driver pulled away. “I feel bad I didn't give him anything.”
“Why?” Scott asked. “Do you want him dead?”
She screwed up her face looking at him. “Dead?”
“Yeah,” Scott said. “Time was you could give a street addict a buck and you could expect him to live a good while, just moving from high to high or drink to drink. Even heroin didn't kill you, at least not right away. There are addicts that could live twenty, thirty years on that shit. Same with early-stage meth. You could enable an addict back then, tell your sad liberal sense of guilt that you were doing something nice. They lie to you about why they need the money, you lie to yourself about what they do with it, and you can close your eyes to what you did to them.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore, though. When someone gets on fentanyl, their lifespan is measured in months. And they're putting it in everything now. You want to feel good about yourself? Donate time and money to a homeless shelter. Don't give them a buck on the street. You're literally killing them at this point and you're financing drug cartels who deal in death along every stop of their logistics chain. So don't.”
Traverton let out a low whistle. “Damn. Coming on kinda strong there, Scotty.”
“Guess I've seen enough shit come out of fentanyl addicted metas that are still OD'ing to have gotten irritated,” Scott said. “No one's doing addicts any favors by letting them death spiral on the damned streets. It's not compassionate to let people have mental health crises while covered in their own shit. It's not decent to let someone smoke fentanyl until they finally kick off the mortal coil after their fifth OD because finally there's no one around with Narcan to save them. It's not–”
“Yeah, we get it,” Scarlet said. “Chill, Scotty. Chill.” And she looked out the window as the shops passed, all her enthusiasm at the purchase gone, replaced with a dull mask of tired silence.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
Heidi
The applause was heavy, and Heidi basked in it. It wasn't often the entire crew got overwhelmed by a shoot, but here they clearly were, and not just because of the surprise appearance of Steven Clayton.
It was that love was in the air yet again, and when it had seemed to so likely to fail.
“Great work, boss,” Sarah whispered in her ear. “How'd you manage to pull this one off? Clayton...he's kind of a big get.”
“You heard him,” Heidi said, her arms crossed against her chest, heart feeling like it was just swelling within her, fit to burst from happiness as Steven took Sienna by the arm, crooked theirs together, and led her away, Ed's camera crew following behind. “He's been carrying a torch for her for years. All I needed was to give it a chance, and love can bloom.” She felt a sappy smile rest on her face. “I'm just the facilitator, Sarah. Love does the work.”
“I was a little worried there for a minute,” Sarah said. “I mean, I'd never seen a match fail before. I thought maybe Sienna really was unlovab–”
Heidi wheeled on her, all the joy gone from her face and heart. “Everyone is worthy of love, Sarah. Everyone.” She watched Sienna disappear down the hall with Clayton, the camera trailing them. They were going to the interview room; she'd watch on the monitors so it'd feel less invasive and more private.
“Yeah, no, I know,” Sarah said. “I guess...maybe I just wondered if, given all she's done, how...scary she was to the guys, that maybe no one could handle–”
“There's someone out there for everyone,” Heidi said, giving Sarah a little hug. “And it's our job to find them. Now – Eilish.” She turned her attention past Sarah, to where the Irish girl was still sitting, scowling in the direction of the hallway where Sienna had just disappeared. “You said she's chomping at the bit to get one-on-one with Val?”
Sarah nodded. “They seem to have a real connection.”
“I've seen the footage,” Heidi said, pondering. “I guess she's probably ready, right? The two of them are ready for the, uhm...the next step?” She blushed a little at even saying that.
“Oh, yeah,” Sarah said. “Val and her both. You could put them in the Stardust Suite together tonight and I think they're ready for it. Which means tomorrow we'd be ready for the proposal...” Sarah arched her eyebrows, sing-songing it.
“Yes,” Heidi said after a moment's thought. “Yes, I can feel it. You're right, they're ready. Set up a cut ceremony for two of the guys, give Eilish the choice of which man she'd like to take into the Stardust Suite – we both know which one she'll pick. Let them have their night, and then...yeah, tomorrow let's set up the last cut and proposal if they're ready.”
“They'll be ready,” Sarah said, practically glowing. “Oh, it's so exciting! I love this part of the courtship.”
“Really?” Heidi cast her eyes toward Eilish, who was still sitting on the couch, muttering under her breath to herself. “It's the part that gives me a slight feeling of nausea contemplating it, but everyone else seems to love it, so...” She shrugged. “Move it forward, Sarah.” She felt the smile return to her face. “Let's get these people coupled up – and married off.”
CHAPTER NINETY
Eilish
“Hey,” Sarah Barlow plopped down on the couch next to me, derailing my train of dirty thoughts about Sienna, a few of which were threatening to spill out. “I just talked with Heidi about your relationship progression.”
“Oh,” I said, smoothing over my dress. It was a lovely, lively green. “What does she think?”
“She thinks – and I agree – it's time to cut a couple guys out of your lineup. You've spent time with them all, gotten to know them, and let's face it – you know who you're sparking with, and it's Val. Now – you can keep one more, sort of a backup, but we're thinking...we put you and Val into the Stardust Suite tonight, give you a chance to take each other for a test drive–”
“I would very much like to be driven by Val,” I said, words just popping out. “Like Miss Daisy except in a dirty way.”
Sarah hesitated, cringing slightly. “Right. Well, anyway,” her expression cleared up, “if it goes well tonight...how would you feel about a proposal tomorrow? Maybe a chance to wear that wedding dress next week...?”
A sudden blast of fear at her words blew up in my mind, and I looked around like a drowning woman seeking a life preserver. “Uhm. Oh. Ah–” I locked eyes with Heidi from across the room, and–
“Eilish?” Sarah asked.
“Yeah, that'd be fine,” I said, all my anxiety subsiding. “I like Val quite a lot; really the most I've liked any man in years. And I could use a – well, a, uhm, drive. Been a while since I've been for a drive, actually.”
“Well, we'll set that up for tonight, then,” Sarah said with a smile. Something in my gut was bubbling. Just nerves, probably.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Sienna
Steven led me by the hand into the interview room, the camera crew following behind, about a billion butterflies rustling around in my stomach. It was so strange; just this morning I'd felt sure I was done here, that I'd driven off all the men who could possibly be interested in me, and now here I was, with the handsomest one yet.
And one who, if I was being really honest, the kind of honest that used to take me a few drinks to get to...one who I'd had a little crush on for literally years.
We sat down on the couch, opposite each other, him looking into my eyes with his shining, coffee-colored ones. The camera crew settled quietly into position where they could record our interaction, a second crew filtering in to stand over his shoulder to catch my reactions. I tried not to frown at them, but there was no way to erase the natural RBF that came out of me when someone had a camera pointed my way. I caught a glimpse of Ed with his squinting eyes and flawless face; guy could have been on the show, he was so handsome. Hell, given how many matches Heidi had made, maybe he had been.
“You've had a busy few years,” Steven said, and, looking down, I realized he was still holding my hand. I started to panic and toss it away, then realized the texture was slightly off.
He was wearing thin plastic gloves, almost the consistency of a produce bag but maybe a little more natural. Clever.
“Yes, I have been busy,” I said, looking up from his hands.
“You remember the last time I saw you?” His smile was absolutely everything. Perfect freaking teeth.
“I do,” I said slowly, dragging out the syllables, “but since merely seeing me kinda involves you in a felony, I'd be real hesitant to elaborate.”
“I don't care,” he said. “I'm proud of helping you, and I don't give a damn who knows it.” He looked right at the camera. “It was at my house. After everyone had declared you public enemy number one. I helped you as much as I could, and I'd do it again. I just wish I could have done more.”
Admitting to harboring a fugitive on television. He didn't lack for boldness, that was for sure. “Well, I never did get a chance to thank you for helping me while I was being hunted.”
“Wrongly hunted,” he said, “then you went overseas – working for the British government, right?”
“Uh, that's still classified, I think.” My eyes darted furtively to the camera. Not exactly an effective denial on my part, but I was pretty sure the Brits had admitted they'd brought me over by now. I had a hard time keeping track of all these secrets.
“Right – then Scotland.” He squeezed my hand. “I wish I'd known what you were going through there. I only found out later, with everyone else. I wish you'd called me.”
“I did not want to get anyone involved in that shitshow that didn't have to be,” I said.
“Language,” Heidi hissed from off camera. She was in the doorway, to my surprise. I figured she would have watched from somewhere else, because the room was pretty crowded with the two camera crews.
“...In that crapshow...that didn't have to be,” I amended, and got an enthusiastic thumbs up from Heidi.
“You've been on kind of a tour de force since,” Steven said. “Revelen. Back with the FBI, then independent again. Minnesota turning against you, then the Minneapolis thing–”
“Life with me is not boring, that's for sure,” I said awkwardly. “Downsides of dating me include possible death.”
His eyes glinted brilliantly. “I could use a little more excitement in my life. It's been all movie sets and the gym for the last few years. I think it's time to change it up a little. You know?” He smiled, leaning in a little closer.
I could smell his cologne, hints of sandalwood and rosemary, surprisingly rugged. His shirt was unbuttoned a couple, and I saw hints of chest hair, of really nice pecs, and he felt so warm, his hand on mine.
The room was silent, and the camera crews seemed to fade away. It was just him and me, and his lips easing closer to mine.
He was going for the kiss, and I didn't duck, didn't move, or dodge out of the way.
God help me...I wanted it to happen.
Then my stupid phone rang.
The spell was broken; I could see the camera crews again, plain as day, about to video my first kiss in months, my first real kiss with feeling behind it in a year or more, since Harry had left me. Not one of those hollow, empty, lust-and-nothing-else kisses with the one-night stands I'd had whilst drunk, but something real, with promise, with a potential future–
Stupid phone.
I checked the screen, because of course I did. DENVER FBI FIELD OFFICE, it read. “Sonofa – I have to take this,” I said, holding up a single finger to him. “Hello?”
“Ms. Nealon?” Special Agent Wolfkill was on the other end and sounded utterly blasé. “This is a courtesy call to inform you that we procured the search warrant you requested and executed the raid on the address you gave us.”
Steven was staring at me in anticipation, sweetly. “...And?” I asked, kinda wanting to get back to the kiss.
“Well,” Wolfkill said, “things didn't quite go to plan.”
“Say what now?” I asked.
“Well, we hit the place and looks like we just missed them,” she said. “Place was pretty cleaned out, too, but the stove was still warm, so it wasn't by much.”
“Took you that long to get a search warrant, huh?” I asked, feeling a little sick. These things did happen, though it absolutely sucked to lose a lead because the court couldn't get the lead out of their ass.
“No, we got it approved last night,” Wolfkill said airily. “I just thought we should wait to move until it was light out and our A team was in the office.”
My heart thudded like a drumbeat in my ears. “You held off on launching the raid?” I turned away from Steven because I didn't want him to see my face right now. “I told you this was time sensitive, that they'd be moving.” I pulled the phone from my face and looked at the time. “It's noon now. What time did you go in?”
“About thirty minutes ago,” she said defensively. “I'm calling you with the earliest update I could. I'm at the scene now.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, closing my eyes, that throbbing in my head getting heavier. “Okay, you wanted to wait until your A-team was in, fine – why did you wait until 11:30-ish to launch?”
“We had to brief and prepare,” Wolfkill said. “That took a while, you know, getting on body armor, sealing off the street–”
“How long were you at the scene before you hit the door?” I asked, rubbing my temple. I had a suspicion, and it was not a good one.
“No more than two hours,” she said quickly. “We were really trying to control the scene, evacuate nearby houses and all–”
“And you just set up in front of the house?” I asked. “Did it not occur to you that they could go out the back door while you were moving around out front?”
“Well, that's actually what we think happened,” Wolfkill said. “But who could have foreseen that?”
Something in my brain snapped, like there was a wall holding back all my negative emotion like a tidewater, and with the snap it burst, my voice exploding out of me. “A MENTALLY DEFICIENT HALF-DRUNK SNAIL COULD HAVE SEEN THAT COMING! IT'S WHY YOU STAGE AND ASSEMBLE ELSEWHERE AND HIT THE DAMNED DOOR AS SOON AS YOU ROLL UP INSTEAD OF MILLING AROUND IN THE STREET WITH YOUR TIT IN YOUR HAND WHILE THEY LEAVE OUT THE BACK! DAMN YOU! WHO TRAINED YOU? WAS IT A CHIMP? TELL ME IT WAS A CHIMP, AND THAT HIS NAME WAS HARAMBE, AND THAT HE'S THE DEAD ONE, BECAUSE IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT WILL MAKE ME FEEL BETTER RIGHT NOW! GYAH!” I squeezed my phone and heard the case strain under my strength. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU IDIOTS!”
“Harambe was a gorilla,” Steven said, looking a little ashen at my outburst. When I looked at him, he flinched. “Sorry.”
“HELLO?” I shouted into the phone, then lifted the screen from my face. “She hung up!” I almost threw my phone but managed to not, instead venting with a sound deep from my throat that sounded like a deeper version of a teakettle hitting boil. “Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”
“Whoa,” Steven said, sliding back on the couch, probably wisely.
I popped up to my feet, pacing. “I cannot do this any more,” I said, turning to him. “I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but in case it wasn't obvious from what just happened – I AM A TRAINWRECK.” I looked him in the eyes. “Do I want you? Yeah. But I'm in my first real year of sobriety, and the work I am doing on myself, in terms of controlling the deep-seated RAGE,” I lifted my phone, desiring to throw it out the nearest window in fury, “is taking all my time and attention. I am broke. Beyond broke. Ridiculously, stupidly broke. I have two dogs and a cat and I'm barely able to take care of them and myself while doing my highly demanding job and when I get to the end of the day, there's nothing left except the hollow bones as I lay down in bed like it's my coffin.
“See, I'm dead.” I slammed myself in the breastbone. “I have been for a while, since Minneapolis, really. Because that was the place, the time that I realized why everyone who hates me, hates me. And why shouldn't they? I hate me.” My eyes were wild, and I laughed, without mirth. “I am an absolute executioner whose only obsession is keeping myself from going off the road while I try and imprison and destroy other people who are doing the same, maybe a little better, maybe a little worse. I think the only defense in my case is I try not to hurt the innocent, whereas the people I go after tend to almost exclusively hurt the innocent.
