by Matt Rogers
Bea, the plump barista, called, ‘Mary?’ She clutched a wrapped bagel in her palm.
Mary stepped forward.
The door jangled and a man stepped inside. He had the pale skin of an Eastern European and thin hair shaved to a buzzcut. He was her height, short but stocky, in a leather jacket and black jeans despite the heat. He scanned the overhead menu noncommittally, not even trying to make it believable, then his gaze fell on Mary.
She took the bagel from Bea, who turned to the new customer and asked, ‘Here for lunch?’
‘No,’ the man said.
He sat down at the closest table, rested his elbows on the surface, and stared at Mary.
Blood drained from her cheeks. She turned away so her paling face wasn’t visible. She had to walk past him to exit. She searched out the bathroom, hustled toward it, the bulbs overhead like spotlights. Someone laughed harshly at a table beside her and she almost leapt out of her skin. It jolted her to a realisation. If you hide, you’re only delaying the inevitable.
At once she spun and headed back for the entrance. A beeline past the mystery man. He watched her all the way. Her nervous tremors crescendoed as she passed by. She didn’t realise how tense she was, the way her neck and shoulders were locked in place like iron rods. It was a miracle she hadn’t fainted.
When she brushed past she heard his voice. ‘Tick tock, Mary.’
Eastern European, just as she’d suspected. Probably Russian. She could tell he was staring daggers at her but she didn’t dare meet his gaze. He’d spoken quietly enough so only she could hear. She hurried past, pushed her way out the door, almost knocking over a middle-aged woman who’d been on her way in. She sprinted across the street, barely looking for traffic. A horn blared. In the lobby she tapped the elevator button nearly twenty times in rapid succession before the doors opened. Up on her floor she couldn’t get her key in the lock, her hands were shaking so hard. Finally she managed and spilled through into an empty hallway.
She sat down and put her back to the wall, shut her eyes. The darkness of her eyelids throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
At some point she’d dropped the bagel.
Meal delivery it is.
Her phone rang. With trembling hands she fished it out.
Her aunt Ava.
12
Mary’s voice came through the speaker, drowning with stress. ‘Hi. Hello. This isn’t a good time, Ava. I’m really sorry.’
Alexis pressed the phone tighter against her ear. ‘I’m not your aunt.’
Silence.
Across the table, Ava watched hawkishly.
Mary said, ‘W-what?’
‘I’m a friend of Ava’s. Why haven’t you gone to the police?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t think about the right answer, Mary. Just answer. Why haven’t you gone to the police?’
‘I don’t…’ A pause for composure, a deep quaking inhale. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘One chance at this, Mary. I can help. You don’t need to know why and you don’t need to know how, but you should trust that I know what I’m doing.’
A pause. ‘Then put Ava on the phone.’
Alexis said nothing.
Mary said, ‘Prove she’s okay. Prove I can trust you.’
‘You’re good, Mary. You’re doing all the right things. There’s a way out of this. I promise.’
Alexis handed the phone over. Ava said, ‘Listen to my voice. I’m not under duress. Alexis is a friend. She’s a very serious person. Answer her questions and she’ll help.’
There was no one in the surrounding booths and the café was in a lull so Alexis heard every word that came back through the little speaker. ‘Help how? Who is she?’
Ava held Alexis’ gaze as she answered. ‘I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m different these days. Nothing like how I was before. Alexis helped me out of that dark place.’ A brief silence. ‘She’s the strongest woman I’ve met.’
Ava didn’t wait for a reply. She handed the phone back.
‘Why haven’t you gone to the police?’ Alexis said a third time.
‘My boss is a billionaire,’ Mary said without hesitation. ‘She has the resources to delay any investigation and by the time anything gets done I’ll be out of the picture. She’ll do to me what she did to Jack.’ Hesitation. ‘Uh, Jack is a mentor of mine who was—’
‘Jack Sundström. I know who he is. You could voice these concerns to SFPD. They’d establish protection.’
‘Not enough,’ Mary said. ‘Whatever they do, it won’t be enough. You don’t know Heidi.’
‘Leak everything anonymously. You supposedly know that it’s all a sham. Take it to the Chronicle. Don’t reveal your identity.’
‘There’s…’ Mary trailed off and sobbed, but she pulled herself together fast. ‘There’s people following me. I’m so fucking scared. What if my phone’s tapped?’ Her voice shook, wavering octaves up and down. ‘And it’s not a “sham.” It just…doesn’t work the way Heidi wanted it to. But she has deadlines. We all do…’
‘I don’t need to hear about that right now,’ Alexis said. ‘Who’s following you?’
‘Some Russian guy. First time I left my place since yesterday and he was there at the café across the road, staring at me. He said, “Tick tock,” when I walked by. But I’m still alive. So they’re just trying to keep me quiet. Unless…’
She didn’t have to finish. Alexis could fill in the blanks. Unless they’re listening right now. Unless I signed my own death warrant by talking to you.
Alexis said, ‘They’re probably keeping tabs on you until they can think of a way to get rid of you that minimises attention. So you’re safe for now.’
‘I’m not going outside. Not after that.’
‘I’ll tell you what to say to Heidi. But you need to go in like nothing’s wrong and—’
‘No,’ Mary whispered. ‘No, please.’ Unbridled fear in her tone. ‘Don’t make me go back there. Please don’t make me go back there. I’ll do anything. Fucking anything. But not that.’
Alexis took the phone away from her ear, pressed the top of the device to her forehead as she closed her eyes, sighed out her frustration. There was a solution, but Mary sure as hell wouldn’t have the composure to do it. Not even close. Which left a single option.
She brought the phone back round. ‘Okay. Don’t leave the apartment. Don’t answer your door for anyone. I’ll catch a red-eye and I’ll be there by tomorrow.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going to do your job for you, Mary.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We look the same.’
A pause. ‘Not exactly the same, surely.’
‘No.’
‘Then it’s not enough.’
‘It’ll be enough to get past reception, I’m sure. No one looks too closely at the same people coming in at the same times, day in, day out. All I need is to make it to Heidi’s office. Then I’ll handle the rest.’
Silence. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘That’s not for you to worry about, because there’s no way you’d be able to do it yourself. Now promise me you’ll sit tight.’
Terror in her voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Does Ava have your address?’
Mary said, ‘Yes,’ in unison with Ava’s nod across the table.
Alexis said, ‘Then I’ll see you soon.’
She hung up.
Ava’s mouth hung ajar, flabbergasted. ‘You’re not serious.’
Alexis met her stare. ‘I’ve got nothing better to do.’
‘You…’ Ava trailed off. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘No one has to do anything they don’t want to do, Ava. That’s the freedom we possess. There’s always a choice.’
‘I told you I was only looking for…advice.’
‘Advice wouldn’t cut it. So this is the way it is.’
‘T-thank you?’
‘Of course.’
Alexis walked out, leaving Ava alone and confused.
13
Slater told himself he’d rest his shoulder after the deadlift PR, but he couldn’t help it.
He was born and bred for work.
Alexis had been gone for nearly an hour when he grew restless, wrapped his hands, and slipped on sixteen-ounce Everlast boxing gloves.
In truth there was little concern about re-injuring his rotator cuff. What with the strength of the surrounding musculature and the chemical assistance that he and King had always used to maximise recovery, he had confidence he was back to one hundred percent. The government used to provide them with special “supplements” free of charge, but now Alonzo was the one who tracked the substances down for them, the highest-grade designer steroids available, the stuff only Olympic champions usually had access to. They’d been microdosing in exact quantities their whole career with no side effects. With their workloads, they simply wouldn’t survive without a special regimen.
He ripped combinations into the heavy bag in the garage: 1-2-3-2s, 1-2-5-2s, 2-3-2s.
Jabs and crosses and hooks and uppercuts until the lactic acid burned in his arms and his shoulders puffed up like bowling balls.
No tendon pain.
In the clear.
Tyrell came into the garage thirty minutes later, as Slater unspooled his sweat-soaked hand wraps.
The boy said, ‘Man, you ain’t good at takin’ it easy, are you?’
It was late morning already, but Tyrell had nowhere to be. There was only a couple of weeks between the end of Harvard’s summer school program and the beginning of the regular fall semester, but for Tyrell it was much-needed downtime. It had taken all the willpower his maturing brain could muster to pass “Introduction to Entrepreneurship,” “Computer Science for Business Professionals,” and “Introduction to Financial and Managerial Economics.”
Slater shrugged. ‘I feel good as new.’
‘Me too. Thought I’d need more time after those seven weeks. They were hard as fuck.’
Slater paused the unwrapping process to stare at Tyrell. ‘Only swear when it’s necessary.’
‘Aight. When’s it necessary?’
‘Whenever you feel like it. Just don’t overdo it. And be tactical about where.’
‘You swear all the time.’
‘Not around you. I’m tactical.’
Tyrell rolled his eyes. ‘What you think Alexis’ up to with Ava?’
‘No idea. She’ll tell us when she gets back.’
‘Man, you should see that Ava woman. I seen her around the drop-off zone a couple times. She off the dope. Alexis gonna get the shock of her life when she sees what she look like now. She ain’t seen her since more than a month ago ’cause I asked her to stop dropping me at school. But, yeah. Ava’s a whole different person.’
‘That’s the real hard work,’ Slater said. ‘Making choices like that.’ He gestured to the heavy bag, coated in drops of perspiration. ‘People think this is the hardest thing you can do. They’re so wrong. The hardest work is the little decisions. The choice not to pick up the needle, not to eat that donut, not to slack off mentally.’
Tyrell nodded. ‘Man, you so right. I been thinkin’ about that, actually. About where I came from…’
Slater watched the boy closely. ‘Tell me.’
‘Like, my old life seemed harder, right? Hanging around drug dealers. Always scared. Not knowin’ if I’m gonna get shot that day. But really those were the easy decisions. Like, quick fixes. There’s a lotta pain but also a lotta money. So I’d believe all my homies back then when they’d say, “Man, I wish I was rich and spoiled. That’d be easy.” But now I see. Like, you’re rich. But you work harder than anyone I ever met and you don’t even have a job. I’m not…’ He trailed off, looking at the floor. ‘I’m not sayin’ this right…’
‘You’re doing great. Keep going.’
‘When I was studyin’, I was thinkin’, “This ain’t hard work.” I used to stand on street corners and deal dope. That was work, not sittin’ in front of a book. But you deal dope and it’s instant money. You study and you ain’t get shit, not right away. That’s the hard part. Doin’ something and there’s no reward there for you. The reward comes later, way later, when you smart and you know what to do, know how to take care’a yaself. The real hard work is planning for that day, like ten years from now. Am I making sense?’
Slater threw the hand wraps in the washing basket he kept in the garage for workout clothes. ‘Yeah, Tyrell. You’re making all the sense in the world.’
‘That’s what you been tryin’ to teach me, ain’t it? I guess it took a while to click.’
‘Most people go their whole lives without it clicking.’
‘How long did it take you?’
‘Longer than you. But some people realise and don’t apply it. Don’t be one of those people.’
‘I won’t. Quiz me.’
‘Huh?’
‘You helped me with game theory, remember? That homework I had. Ask me somethin’. See if I remember.’
Slater hid a smile. ‘“Monopoly. Perfect competition. Oligopoly.” List them from highest to lowest market quantity.’
Tyrell barely hesitated. ‘Perfect competition, oligopoly, monopoly.’
‘Why?’
‘Perfect competition usually produces the highest quantity. Monopolies usually produce the lowest ’cause there’s no urgency to fight off competitors. Oligopolies end up in the middle.’
‘Nailed it, kid.’ Slater let the smile out. ‘You’re gonna do great things.’
They both heard commotion inside the house. The front door slamming open, someone moving through the kitchen. Tyrell raised an eyebrow. Slater led the way, the teenager falling in line.
They found Alexis throwing greens into a blender for an on-the-go meal, her aura burning. They both sensed the focus. She turned to them.
‘There’s trouble,’ she said. ‘I’m going to California.’
14
It took Alexis nearly twenty minutes to explain everything, then she hurried off to pack a bag.
After she left, Slater sat on a stool at the end of the kitchen island without blinking or speaking, stoic as he processed the news. Tyrell had stayed for the whole discussion. They could’ve sent him away, but neither of them had any interest in trying to hide their lives. They knew he’d eavesdrop anyway, so it was better he was there, taking in what was happening in real-time instead of catching muttered snippets from around the corner.
When they were alone, Tyrell muttered, ‘You don’t look happy.’
Slater lifted his blank gaze to the boy. ‘I always look like this.’
Tyrell swung off his stool. ‘Ain’t my business, man. But I think you don’t like that she doin’ what you do. Or, at least, doin’ it on her own.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Ain’t it?’
He sauntered away to his room, leaving Slater alone. He sat still for another twenty minutes before Alexis reappeared with a packed duffel in one hand and her phone in the other. She swiped a couple of times, tapped a few buttons, then slid it back in her pocket. ‘Flight’s booked for later this afternoon. I’ve got to be at Boston Logan in a couple of hours.’
Slater nodded.
She wordlessly crossed the room, pulled out the stool next to him, sat down and faced him so they could look each other in the eyes. ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘I want to come help.’
She digested that. ‘Don’t you have business to take care of? You’re a hundred percent now, right? Recuperated.’
He couldn’t have lied even if he wanted to. She’d heard him lift six hundred and eighty pounds off the floor earlier that morning
, and dried sweat caked his skin from the boxing workout. ‘Yeah. I’m a hundred percent. But the list can wait.’
‘Can it?’
‘I’ve let those scumbags walk around as free men for the last six weeks. What’s another few days?’
‘You don’t know how long my thing will take. You don’t know it’ll only be days.’
‘Even still…’
‘You’re not going to be able to protect me.’
He didn’t respond.
‘Not all the time,’ she continued. ‘I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine.’
‘You want the truth? I don’t want to lose you. That’s the truth.’
‘You think I can bear losing you when you go off to wage war with God-knows-who?’
That made him stop, switch his perspective, come to realisations. It only took him a few moments. He took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead. ‘Okay.’
She gripped his hand. ‘You mean it?’
‘I mean it. I’ve seen you in action. If you were hopeless I’d put my foot down, no matter how much tension it caused. But you can handle yourself. I trust you to keep yourself alive.’
‘How flattering.’
‘It should be. You know how few people I trust.’
She nodded slowly. ‘If I need help, I won’t hesitate to call. You know that.’
‘Uh-huh.’ He gazed into space, over her shoulder, continuing to process what she’d told him. ‘Damn. That’s a real shame.’
‘What?’
He looked back at her. ‘I watched that Vitality+ news report with you. I remember it vividly. Kills me that it’s not real.’
Alexis smirked. ‘If it makes you feel any better, Mary told me that it does exist. It just doesn’t work the way they want it to yet, but a media storm like this only comes around once in a blue moon and Heidi’s clearly trying to capitalise on it. Whatever that takes…’
