by Alex Ziebart
Kristen leaned against the bicycle. “What is it this time?”
“Well, that stuff went down at the Temple building, and she knows you work there, so…”
Kristen held up a hand. “Hold on. Why does she know I work there?”
“I told her.”
“Why do you even still talk to her? She threw you out.”
“She threw you out, too.”
“Exactly. Which is why I don’t talk to her.”
Emma shrugged. “She’s still our mom.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean shit. Maybe you’re too young to remember, but I didn’t even have a job when mom threw me out. She told me to be a stripper.”
“So she said something stupid what, seven years ago? Get over it already.”
“Get over it?” Kristen pushed off of the bicycle with a sudden fury. “Get over it? Seriously? I don’t think you’re getting this. She threw you out. She’s the same monster she always was. I’m not calling her. And if she was so concerned about me, she’d have called me. She’s putting on a show for you, Emma. That’s what she does. She plays pretend.”
Emma rubbed exhaustion from her eyes. “Fine, whatever. I’ll drop it.”
Kristen grabbed her beer. “So what’d your boyfriend do this time?”
“He has a name, you know. And who says he did anything?”
She gestured to Emma with the butt of her bottle. “You slept here and not there. Pretty good sign something happened.”
“Maybe I just wanted to hang out with my sister. Ever think of that?”
“Except you already said you knew I was at work. There was no hanging out, but you’re here anyway.”
Emma’s body jerked with a curse. “Damn. You’re good at this.”
Kristen waved for Emma to follow and left for the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get you a beer.”
Emma followed dutifully. “You know I’m not twenty-one, right?”
“Has that ever stopped you before?”
“And didn’t you say it’s only four o’clock?”
Kristen grabbed another Spotted Cow from the fridge and passed it to Emma. “Are you seriously going to make me repeat myself?”
Emma held the beer’s neck out. “Do your thing, Deathgrip.”
Kristen grabbed the cap and pried it off. She tossed it into the trash. “So what’d he do?”
Crossing over into the living room, Emma flopped onto the futon. She looked at the duffel. “Oh, cool. Jane got you your bag.”
Kristen froze, staring at her sister. Slowly, her mind lurched back into action. “You know Jane?”
“Yeah, she stopped in last night to pick up your stuff.”
“You let her in?”
“Yeah. That’s okay, right?”
That explains that.
Kristen forced a shrug, playing it cool. “Yeah, that’s fine. Now stop dodging my question.”
Emma let out a hoarse sigh. “Fine. He was pissed because I ordered out.”
“Like, pizza?”
“Chinese, but yeah. Work sucked and I didn’t feel like cooking. So I ordered Chinese.”
“And that’s a problem why?”
Emma mimicked a deep, masculine voice. “You need to stop wasting your money. You only have a part-time job, it can’t be that hard, get off of your ass and cook a meal for once in your life.”
Kristen slumped with her elbows on the countertop. “I don’t understand why you still put up with this guy.”
“He’s an asshole, but it’s not like I can afford to move out. He’s right, it’s only a part-time job.”
“Just move in with me. You live here half of the time anyway.”
Emma reclined against the duffel, packed full enough to serve as sturdy support. “Let’s be real, Kris. Your apartment kind of sucks. There isn’t enough room for both of us, anyway.”
Well, she’s not wrong.
Kristen dropped her empty bottle into the recycling can with a clatter of glass and aluminum. “My new jobs pays a lot better than my old one. I can get a new place. I’ll even cover all of the bills if you want to save up to go back to school.”
“Seriously?” Emma eyed Kristen warily. “You’re talking to me about going back to school? The girl who pissed off everyone on the planet by turning down like, a million scholarships?”
I didn’t have a choice.
Kristen forced another shrug, dismissing it. “I didn’t want to go.”
“Who says I want to go?”
“Nobody. I’m just saying, if you want to, you can. If not, then you don’t have anything to save up for, do you?”
“What if I want to buy a car?”
“Not nearly a good enough reason to weasel out of rent.”
Emma rolled her beer between her hands. “I don’t know. It sounds good, but living with Chad isn’t that bad.”
“First of all, his name is Chad. Anyone named Chad is automatically a huge asshole. They’re born that way.” Kristen circled around the counter and sat to next to Emma on the futon. “Second, you have to learn to stop putting up with these people. Mom’s an asshole. Chad is an asshole. They’re never going to be anything else. You have to know when enough is enough and walk away. You’re going to be miserable until you do.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “So I can end up like you?”
Kristen reeled back. “What does that mean?”
“I like having friends. If I walk away from everyone like you do, then I won’t have any.”
“What are you talking about? I have friends.”
“Bernice. Joel. Who else?”
“I don’t need anybody else.”
Emma offered a skeptical tilt of her head. Kristen spread her hands. “What? I’m serious. Look, I had plenty of friends in school. I thought cliques were stupid so I hung out with everybody. I fit in with everybody. But my senior year I figured out I had a lot of friends, but not many friends. Who did I actually want to see after I graduated? Bernice and Joel. That’s it.”
“What’s the difference between friends and friends?”
“For me, it was simple. If I’m in a bad mood and want everyone to just leave me alone for a while, who doesn’t count as everyone?”
“I don’t get it.”
“If something’s bothering me and I don’t want to talk about it, who would understand, keep their mouths shut, and not make it worse just by being in the same room? When I’m ready to talk about it, who would actually care instead of just smiling and nodding? Who would be okay with sitting around doing nothing? Those are the only people who matter. Everyone else is wasting your time.”
“That’s kind of bleak.”
Kristen shook her head. “It’s beautiful. Once you find those people, you don’t have anything to worry about. Ever. It doesn’t matter what bullshit comes your way. You go to those people and it’s okay.”
Emma looked down at the bottle in her hand, then up at Kristen. “Are you just really desperate for a roommate?”
Relieved laughter escaped Kristen’s lips. “I was talking to myself before you woke up, so…yeah, maybe.”
“Can I have some time to think about it?”
“Yeah. No problem.” She hopped up from the futon. “I was going to work out before you scared the hell out of me. You can join me if you want.”
“Didn’t you just drink a beer?”
“Yeah, so?”
“I thought alcohol and exercise were two of those things you don’t put together.”
“I ate an entire Taco Bell for lunch I need to work off.”
“An entire what from Taco Bell?”
Kristen patted her gut. “The Taco Bell. The whole thing.”
“Coming from you? I’m guessing you accidentally saw someone eating a taco through a distant window and think you got fat by proxy.”
Kristen snorted. “I haven’t dieted like that in years. And I was never that bad. Move around enough and you can eat whatever the hell you want.”
�
�Does that mean we can order a pizza?”
“Does that mean you’re staying over again?”
Emma stood and walked to the kitchenette, depositing her empty bottle in the recycling. “It’s almost five now, so…I might as well, right?”
Kristen went back to the bedroom, shouting over her shoulder. “Go ahead, order a pizza. There’s cash in my wallet.”
She heard the sound of the refrigerator opening. “Hey, was that your last beer?”
“Yep.”
“Feel like running to the liquor store?”
“Want me to do your laundry and give you a sponge bath while I’m at it?”
“Could you?”
“You’re a smartass, you know?”
“Just remember you’re the one that wants to be roomies.”
Kristen pulled her street clothes back on, athletic shorts over the black Under Armour she’d put on after the fright of Emma’s awakening, and wondered just how many damn times she’d have to change in one day. “Hey, if it’s the cute delivery guy, give him a good tip.”
“Hoping he’ll give you the tip, too?”
Kristen stuck her head out of the bedroom. “Oh, come on.”
“You asked for it.” Emma’s laugh carried throughout the apartment. The television came to life with an explosion of noise, the volume dropping in tandem with the frantic clicking of a remote. “I didn’t think anyone actually got thirsty enough to want it from a pizza guy.”
Kristen crossed the apartment, pocketed her phone, and took her keys from the counter. “Has anyone ever told you your generation’s slang is weird? Because it’s weird.”
Emma sat cross-legged on the futon, eyes glued to the television. “Whatever, grandma. You know you’re only a few years older than me, right? Hey, that footage from Temple is on TV again.”
“When isn’t it?”
Emma ignored her, listening intently to the reporter on the TV. To humor her, Kristen listened, too.
“The Milwaukee Police Department released a statement today detailing the possibility of a link between the siege on Temple Financial and a recently discovered theft from the Milwaukee Public Museum. A nearly three-thousand-year-old ring believed to be Egyptian in origin disappeared from the museum’s archive. The ring was originally donated to the museum by Temple Financial. The Milwaukee Police Department urges anyone who may have information on the theft to call their tipline. Tips can be made anonymously.
Some speculate the theft of a five million dollar Stradivarius violin in 2014 put Milwaukee on the map for black markets dealing in fine art and antiques.”
Emma grinned at Kristen. “Wouldn’t that be totally badass?”
“Art thieves?”
“No, if it was connected. If that superhero chick is legit, imagine if she’s hot on the trail of some thief that pulled off a heist in the museum archive.”
Kristen chuckled nervously. “I really don’t think that’s something she’d be interested in.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t exactly a life and death situation, is it? Temple Financial was, sure. There were hostages. But this is just a ring. It isn’t a person.”
“It seems more important than a person. I mean, no, maybe nobody will die for it, but they said it’s three-thousand years old. The city turned into a circus over that Stradivarius, and it was only three hundred years old. It would seriously suck to lose something that survived that long in one piece. People don’t survive that long.”
“I guess so.” Kristen bit the inside of her lip. “I’m gonna get going to the liquor store. I still want to get my run in tonight. Text me what you want, or I’m just going to get whatever.”
Emma shot Kristen a salute. “Godspeed, liquor lady. I’ll make sure the pizza guy gives you a big tip.”
“Other way around, Emma.”
“Nope.”
Kristen rolled her eyes and stepped out into the hall. She made it as far as the parking lot before her phone buzzed. She stopped and checked it: a text from Emma.
A row of smiling poop emoji.
Chapter 4
After a night of drinking and laughing with Emma, Kristen pulled into Otherworlds and cut the engine. Jane hadn’t sent anyone to pick up the Chrysler yet, so Kristen decided she might as well use it. It was better than her used beater, that was for sure. She stayed in the car, one arm draped over the wheel. There was something about being in a car—not even driving, just being—that made her think.
Offering Emma living space was the right move, but offering to find a better place based on her new, higher-paying job was just stupid. The job at Temple came from Jane. Though Jane hadn’t said it outright, it was reasonable to assume keeping that job depended on cooperating with the woman on matters other than sitting at a security desk watching monitors. For the first time, she realized the job didn’t even make sense. Did a bank branch, in the modern era, even have overnight security? With cameras and electronic alarms capable of remote monitoring, who needed eyeballs on-site? Jane made it happen as a matter of convenience. Kristen would have a reason to be out at night. She’d have an alibi. Temple would have a method of paying her for her services that looked right come tax time.
One question answered: if she didn’t keep playing Jane’s game, she’d be unemployed. No job, no place for Emma, and possibly no place at all.
Kristen set her elbows against the wheel and planted her face squarely in her hands. Am I being stupid?
She ran a checklist through her head. Was Jane shady? Yes. Had Jane asked her to hurt anyone? No. No one human, anyway. Which, Kristen realized, didn’t mean much. Considering what she was capable of, could she call herself human? She dismissed it. It didn’t matter. Had Jane asked her to hurt anyone who wasn’t already hurting someone else? No. Had Jane given her opportunities she wouldn’t otherwise have? Yes. Did Jane give her space when she needed it? Yes.
Kristen sat up just in time to catch a blur of motion coming toward the car. Her eyes snapped in that direction. Just Bernice. Kristen blew out a relieved breath and waved. Bernice waved back. She walked right up to the car, opened the passenger door, and hopped in. “You gonna creep out here all day or you gonna come inside?”
“I wasn’t creeping.”
Bernice eyed her. “Are you really going to make me do this?”
Kristen’s brow knit. “Do what?”
Bernice looked out the window for a long moment, then back again. “You know I know, right? Was I not clear enough before?”
Kristen tilted her head. “Know what?”
“You’re that girl.”
“What are you talking about?”
Bernice turned in her seat to face Kristen. Her words lashed like whips. “I’m not going to let you play this game with me. I know you’re the girl from the news. I know you’re the girl that was in Temple. I’m not stupid. I’ve known you my whole life. I know you better than anybody else. If you thought I wouldn’t figure it out, I’m insulted. I’m actually insulted. You don’t keep that stuff from me, alright? You’re acting like an actual comic book character. That’s a joke. You know that? You’re sitting out here like some tortured fucking soul because you’re living some kind of double life, and oh no, you can’t tell your best friend because of some secret identity crap. Don’t do that to me. Don’t lie to me. Don’t make me play pretend with you.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “Way to be an asshole about it.”
“I’m the asshole?” Bernice gestured an arm across the car. “You’re the one acting like everything’s fine while you’re running around with secret agent lady playing superhero.”
“Number one? Pretty sure she isn’t a secret agent. Number two? I’ve barely been doing any superhero stuff. Number three? Super weird to call myself a superhero. Can we not?”
“You know a better word for a woman that can punch a car in half?”
“I’ve never punched a car in half.”
“You punched a guy in half.”
“He didn�
�t actually break into two pieces.”
“Kris, you ever hear of hyperbole before?”
Kristen looked out of the window, staring at nothing in particular. She dropped the volume of her voice, stifling the rush of nervous adrenaline. “Can we skip the drama if I say I’m sorry?”
“If you mean it, yeah.”
“You ruined my plan, you know?”
Bernice’s eyes narrowed. “Plan?”
“Yeah.” Kristen hit her head against the headrest. “I wanted to figure all of this out first. Like, what am I actually going to do? How does it work? Then when I figured it out, I was going to tell you. Make it dramatic, you know? You would be the only person in the world I’d tell. Because I trust you. But I wanted it to be good. I didn’t think you’d figure it out first.”
Bernice took Kristen’s hand and squeezed it. “That means a lot. But if you didn’t want me to know, you need a better disguise than that wig. I might be the only person on this earth that remembers you’re not a natural blonde.”
Kristen glanced down at their intertwined hands. “Seriously? I’ve been dying it blonde since I was twelve.”
“And I’ve been dying mine just as long. Remember? We dyed each other’s hair the first time. My mom was pissed because we did mine purple and our school wouldn’t let me go to class until I fixed it.”
Kristen cracked a smile; she couldn’t help it. “I remember that. Man, I’m glad we didn’t go to a Catholic high school.”
“My mom was pissed about that, too. But if I didn’t go to the same school you were going to, I just wasn’t going to go.”
“Does Joel know?”
Bernice pulled her cigarettes from a pocket. “No, I don’t think so. I love that boy, but he’s dumb as a rock sometimes. Wanna go outside?”
Kristen shifted her hands up and down as if they were pans in a scale. “On one hand, we’d be discussing my life-changing secrets out in the open. On the other, we’d be enabling your crippling and cancer-causing addiction to cigarettes.”
Bernice opened the door and stepped outside. “If I don’t have a cigarette every two hours on the dot, I turn into a big green monster. You don’t want to see that.”
Kristen hopped out and circled around the car. She leaned against the vehicle next to her friend. “I need your advice.”
