by Alexa Reign
“Look, you can keep trying to avoid me all you want, but I think –”
Ace raised the cup to his mouth and tipped his head back. Before I could finish what I was saying, he crushed the cup, threw it in the trash, and walked right past me. I sighed, watching as he nodded, acknowledging the staff around him on his way to the elevator.
“Goddammit.”
When the elevator doors started to close, I made a dash for it, sliding right through the narrowing gap.
“Jesus Christ. Really?”
There was a fleeting look of awe on his face, but it was mostly irritated. Under this light, I could see the concealer caked on under his eyes, hiding the puffy, grayish bags. I straightened up against the opposite end of the elevator. I hung back an arm casually, gripping the cool steel railing behind me.
“We live in the same building and we work together. You know you're going to have to confront me sooner or later. First off, you looked through my personal property and took something out of my bedroom –”
“Right – something that belongs to me.”
“I – okay. That's fair, I guess.” My grip on the railing tightened. “But I can explain everything –”
“So, what is all this?” Ace reached inside his blazer and pulled out the 3 letters, carefully folded in his pocket. He was getting louder with every word, his tone trenchant and accusing. “Is this your idea of a fucking prank? You trying to provoke a reaction outta me so you can write up some sob story –”
“What?” My jaw hung open. I was flabbergasted. I shook my head defiantly, my fingers loosening from the railing completely. “Of course not. Believe me, I know how this sounds – which was why I was trying to explain in the first place. This black envelope showed up in our mailbox, and I threw it out at first, thinking it was junk mail. This was before Oneiro –”
“When'd you get the letters?”
“What?”
“I said –” His face flushed, just a shade shy of the red on his tie. He thrust the letters in my face. I caught a brief view of the address Ace had scribbled across the bottom corner. “When did you get the letters?”
“I don't – I don't remember the exact date.” I fumbled for words, taken aback by his increasing aggression. “2, maybe 3 weeks ago? I don't –”
“Fuck!”
The elevator doors opened, but Ace didn't seem to notice. He took a giant step forward, cornering me. His chest seemed to have blown up twice its size. I could practically feel the bristles of his beard on my nose, his hot, jagged breaths puffing against my face.
The elevator doors slowly closed behind him.
“Do you realize what you've done?”
“Ace, you need to back up.”
I was petrified, but I refused to recoil. All the same, I had to tighten my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. His eyes were still glinting with hatred, but he retreated. He crammed the letters back into his blazer and smashed the “Open Door” button on the side panel.
“Brooklyn's alive, and you may have just screwed up the only chance I'll ever get to see her again.”
“What?” I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers getting caught in a tangle. “Ace, you're not making any sense. What are you –”
Right as the doors opened, Ace tugged his tie loose and stormed out of the elevator.
Chapter Three: Ace
“Hello, this is Brooklyn, and you've reached the Warners. If you're getting this message, Ace and I are either away, or we're avoiding you, so please take the hint. Just kidding! Leave us a message, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can.”
I rested the back of my head against the trunk of the silver maple tree. My ass was starting to get numb from sitting in the same spot for the last 3 hours. My neck starting to itch from the bark scratching up against me, too. Forcing myself to sit up a couple of inches, I hit “Redial,” and pressed my phone up to my ear. I let the line ring, waiting for the click of the voicemail.
“Hello, this is Brooklyn, and you've reached the Warners. If you're getting this message, Ace and I are either away, or we're avoiding you, so please take the hint. Just kidding! Leave us a message, and we'll get back to you as soon as we can.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. My throat stung hard at the sound of her voice. I couldn't even count the number of times I'd listened to the 3-year-old recording. All I knew was that I'd memorized every word, every inflection. The light optimism in her sweet, cheery voice. I could almost feel her next to me again.
The line beeped in my ear. Like clockwork, I lowered my phone and hit “Redial.” And again, I closed my eyes.
“Hello, this is Brooklyn, and you've reached the Warners. If you're getting this message, Ace and I are either away, or we're avoiding you, so please take the hint. Just kidding! Leave us a –”
Underneath me, the floor rumbled. The end of Brooklyn's message was drowned out by the wind ripping through a plane's turbines. I cracked one eye open. A plane was halfway off the ground, flying off into the dark, cloudless sky. The roar of the whistling wind blew through the holes of the fence, ruffling the leaves and shaking the barbed wires.
I set my phone down and grabbed the bottle next to me. I slugged that shit right back, my eyes watering as the whiskey set fire to my throat. The bottle cap had been lost in the grass for around an hour now.
Fuck, I was tired. The hair on my arms and legs were matted together under my clothes. I had a knot in my neck from keeping my head up against tree, but it was the only angle I could find that would keep my head from drooping. That was an accomplishment in itself – it felt like I had a python coiled around my head, and it was constricting, moving in for the kill.
I didn't know how to feel. Could Brooklyn still be out there? No matter how much I wanted it to, none of this was making any sense. How could she be alive when I saw her body? At least – I think I did. Firefighters held me back before I could get to her, and before I knew it, they were taking her away. You know how crazy special effects gets nowadays. Could Brooklyn have been involved in something I never even knew about? I don't know, the Witness Protection Program, maybe? And what the hell did she mean when she said she was in trouble? What kind of trouble?
Was I too late?
A different kind of engine rumbled next to me. This one sounded closer, its engine low and sputtering. I lowered the bottle, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. I'd been steadily drinking for the last couple of hours, but my lips were real dry.
The Suzuki cruiser rolled up to an empty spot in the parking lot. Victoria took off her white helmet, her dark hair unraveling over her shoulders. She opened up the trunk, took out 2 paper bags, and crossed the street, clutching her helmet under her arm.
“I thought I'd find you here.”
Victoria gave me a weak smile and dropped to the ground next to me. When she opened the bag, rich, flavorful spices wafted into the air. She took out 3 containers and a soup thermos, laying them in front of me.
“We've got some leftover chicken sate, some shrimp, and green papaya salad.” Victoria continued, popping off the lids. Skewers of grilled chicken crusted with spices lay on top of grilled onions and tomatoes. “I had this friend, Putri, in Baton Rouge. Used to go over to her place after school, and her mom would make us the best food from Indonesia. Of course, this is nowhere as good as the food Putri's mom used to make, but I think it's alright.”
She reached into the container and offered me a skewer. I stared at her. She stared back at me, cocking an eyebrow.
“No, thanks.”
“O-kay, but you're missing out.” Victoria withdrew her arm and bit into the skewer herself. “Have you eaten today?”
“Yeah. Found some old chow mein on my nightstand, had that for breakfast.”
“Sounds...appetizing.” Victoria opened up the soup thermos and handed it to me. “But really, you better eat something. At least have some soup.”
“Alright, alright.”
Grumbling, I took the thermos from her. I poured myself a
cup and drank, chewing the turkey and vegetable bits. I wasn't about to admit it, but just a sip of the clear soup was already starting to soothe the throbbing in my head.
“You didn't have to come all the way out here.”
“I know,” said Victoria simply, reaching for a second skewer.
“Thanks.” I groaned, straightening up against the trunk of the tree. “So why'd you come? If I remember correctly, I was kind of a dick to you in the elevator.”
“You were.” Victoria shrugged, looking up at me. “And I don't know. Had a feeling you'd be out here. Didn't think you'd be in any state to drive home. Just looking out for a neighbor.”
“Right.” I rubbed under my chin. “Hey, I'm sorry about blowing up on you like that.”
“Apology accepted.” Victoria recrossed her legs. I could see her side-eyeing the open bottle snuggled up next to me. “I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean for you to find out like that. No idea how that must have felt like, to walk into my room and see all that on my desk. That was the whole reason I asked you to come over for dinner. Was going to bring it up after we'd eaten, but you were gone.”
“Right. In hindsight, I should've stuck around, asked you about it. Maybe then, we wouldn't have been too late. But if it weren't for all that research you did, I wouldn't have known where to begin, so thanks.”
“Too late for what?”
I pulled off the loose tie hanging around my neck and took out the letters, passing them to her. Victoria skewed her body away from me, holding up the letters under the light. While I waited for her to read through the message, I put the soup aside and groped around for the bottle.
“Are you sure it's her?” Her voice trembled. Even in the dark, I could see the color draining from her face.
“I don't know.”
“I'm sorry I didn't come forward sooner. I didn't even realize the letter was meant for you until –”
“Forget it. It's not your fault.”
Victoria smacked her lips, her eyes downcast.
“What's up with your phone?”
I glanced down at the cracked screen.
“It's how I figured out that code. Long story.”
Victoria pushed her hair behind both ears, nodding knowingly.
“How long have you been out here?”
“Too long.” I lifted the bottle to my lips, but Victoria stopped me.
“Feel free to tear me a new one in the morning, but we're going to stop that right now. You know, so you actually see the morning.” Before I could respond, Victoria leaned over me and pried the bottle out of my fist.
“Shit.” I muttered angrily, but I was secretly impressed. “You're deceptively strong.”
“Holy – did you drink all of that tonight?” Victoria confiscated the bottle, hiding it behind her. “How are you still conscious?”
“You be careful with that – that's a 40-year-old bottle.”
“Have some actual, solid food, and then we'll talk about it.”
“You know, you're real nosy for a neighbor.”
Victoria pursed her lips, gesturing to the food with her chin. I squinted at her, but I reached for a skewer anyway. The meat had gone pretty cold, but that peanut paste was off the chain. As I reached for a second skewer, her victorious smile stretched wider. I ignored her, my gaze drifting past her shoulder.
A second plane with yellow stabilizers prepared for take-off, shaking the ground.
“Why would Brooklyn tell you to meet her here? Does this place mean anything to you?”
“It was one of our favorite spots back in high school.” I threw the skewers into the open bag. “Dad and I weren't too well-off then. Used to drive Brooklyn out here in my shitty car when I was dead broke, which was most of the time. She liked watching the planes take off.”
“Sounds like a good time.” Victoria stretched out her arms behind her. “Going to the mall is overrated, anyway.”
“Hell yeah.” I could feel a smile coming on. “Brooklyn hated the mall. She could afford to buy out all the stores, too. But she loved being outdoors. She was a dancer and a cheerleader. She used to practice out in abandoned parking lots, parks. It's how we met.”
“I've seen her in one of Kirstie Karter's music videos. Didn't she do the choreography for Savior's 'Melt Away', too? Her work is phenomenal.”
“Yeah, that was her.” I lurched forward, but I caught myself. I grunted. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What's your take on all of this? You think it could be her?”
“I – I don't know what you want me to tell you,” Victoria stammered, aghast. “Something's going on for sure, but I'm not –”
“Why else would the letter have instructed me to come over to this location? Out of all the places in New York City? It has to be her –”
The muscles on my neck were starting to cramp from my straining, but I couldn't hold it back anymore. I felt my shoulders crumbling, and this croaking howl I didn't even recognize came out of my mouth. All the repressed emotions came flooding out of me, and I was too drained to close those barriers.
Victoria crawled over to me, wrapping her arms around me. She slid her arm around my head and leaned me against her shoulder. With her other hand, she rubbed slow, coaxing circles on my back.
Shit was staggering. We barely knew each other, but she was holding onto this bulky fucking mess of a man as he sobbed against her. None of that judgment. It was the purest thing I'd come across in a long, long time.
Eventually, I got all that emotion out of my system. She let go of me, sitting back on the ground next to me. I cleared my throat loudly and shook out my shoulders, wiping my eyes and leaky nose with my fists.
“Sorry 'bout that,” I mumbled, looking away from her.
“Don't worry about it.” Victoria tilted her head, winking at me. “It's not the first time I've been around a crying man.”
“That so?” I snorted, shaking my head. Man, it felt good to smile.
“For what it's worth, you may not have found what you were looking for tonight, but I have a feeling this isn't over.” Victoria began to clear away the food. “You ready to call it a night? I'll give you a ride.”
I gazed back at her. For a few seconds, I was speechless. There was a part of me that didn't even want to think about leaving, but I knew better. Brooklyn wasn't coming. Not tonight.
“Yeah, alright.”
I hoisted myself off the ground, leaning over to help her.
Chapter Four: Victoria
“Sonia? Sonia, get over here!”
I looked over my shoulder, my cheeks stuffed with a spinach mini-quiche. Grandma clapped her hands obnoxiously, the jewel bangles on her wrists clinking. A plump young woman in a stuffy-looking Edwardian dress and a frilly white apron rushed over to Grandma. She adjusted the straps of her bonnet under her chin, her left eye twitching erratically.
“Yes, Mrs. DiCarlo?”
“The guests are arriving any minute now, and this frame is still crooked. Why haven't you –”
“Sorry, Mrs. DiCarlo, the staff and I were busy threading the caramel onto the croquembouche, and I must have lost track of time –”
“I don't pay you to hear your excuses. Just fix it before everyone gets here – oh, that's just wonderful.” Grandma stepped around Sonia, fluffing the back of her feathered blonde hair. “Chester, Wilhelmina – you're early! What a lovely surprise! George should be back soon, he's just gone out for a round of golf with his friends.”
Grandma greeted her cousin, Chester, and his family with a dazzling smile. Though Grandma was nearing 72, she looked much closer to Chester's third wife, a former Playmate in her early 40s. I watched as Grandma air-kissed each one of her relatives, the sparkles on their gowns threatening to blind me.
“Oh, Victoria!”
I dusted the crumbs off my fingers and walked over to them. Grandma gave my back a sharp nudge with her knuckles. I pushed my shoulders back instinctively, smiling around at them. She int
roduced me to each one of them, but none of the names of my distant relatives were sinking in.
“This is Victoria, Celeste's daughter. She's just moved back to New York, and will be staying with Rosaline for a while until she gets settled into the city.”
“And where is Celeste?” Wilhelmina asked, smiling kindly.
“Ma couldn't make it. She's –”
“Hosting a gallery showing in Shanghai,” Grandma butted in, grinning. “She's completing a tour in Asia. Did you know – the First Lady of the Philippines dropped by during one of her exhibits and was so taken with one of her pieces, she purchased the piece on the spot!”
Grandma's eyes were radiating with pride, but something about her eagerness made me uneasy.
“Yes, we've all seen your post about it on the family newsletter,” Chester snapped, who wasn't quite as patient.
Before Grandma could retaliate, Rosaline and Cailie appeared on the top of the grand staircase. Both wore similar column gowns in champagne and peach, but only one seemed overdressed. Rosaline glided down the teal-carpeted steps with an actual pink-jewel tiara on her head. Cailie slumped down after her, looking miserable with the pink ribbons clipping her hair out of her face.
“How lovely to see you all!”
Rosaline started another round of back-taps and pretentious pecks on the cheek. Cailie mustered up a smile, waving at them from a distance. Wilhelmina stepped forward, gesturing to the older couple and their son, who was standing to her left.
“This is my brother, William, his wife, Karen, and my nephew, Trent.”
“Trent graduated from Yale, magna cum laude in Law, mind you.” Grandma trilled. Trent didn't look particularly thrilled, but he nodded along, smiling politely. “He's been working at Baker & Watkins for the last 7 years, and he's one of highest-earning lawyers in the state. Now, Rosaline, when I met Trent at the Folsom Charity event, I just knew the 2 of you would hit it off!”
