by E. S. Mercer
“Tell me what is going on?” I urged. “Who are you people?”
“We are here at the request of Mr. Renaldi,” he answered.
“Ryan?” I asked. I didn’t think he had the power, but never thought Alistair would have men tailing me. “Alistair,” the man said again. “It is his wish that you forget you ever met that man and go back home before he has to tell his son what happened here today.”
“Are you threatening me?” I asked, suddenly growing some balls. “Take it as you wish Ms. O’Shea,” he said walking away from me. “But I urge you to forget any of this happened.” He lifted his arm to wave goodbye when I saw a very familiar tattoo on his wrist. I had seen that tattoo before, on Ryan.
“Forget?” I choked, as I ripped my arms out of the first man’s grasp. As his arm flew passed my face, I could see the same tattoo on him as well, hidden amongst a few other crude tattoos. “How the hell do you expect me to forget?”
“Just like you do everything else,” he said, sarcastically. He grabbed my arm and threw me towards the street. As I tripped and fell into a bystander, I saw the men disappear in the direction they took Adam.
I quickly gained my composure, taking off after them, but as I reached the back of the diner, they were gone. There was no trace of them or Adam. No screeching of tires indicating a quick getaway or even footsteps echoing in the next alley.
All I saw was the crusty old cook, sitting on the stoop outside the kitchen, puffing on a non-filtered cigarette and gripping an old metal flask.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a raspy voice, making sure I was aware of how disturbed he was by my presence.
“Um,” I started to stay, pacing back and forth. “Did you see a group of men come by here?”
“Nope,” he said between sips, never once looking up at me.
“Well then, have you seen Adam today?” I asked.
“There ain’t no Adam here,” he said, spitting close to my foot. “Ain’t no Adam ever been here.” “The waiter, Adam, he just served me the other day.” I argued. “Young, extremely handsome, early thirties, about six feet tall.”
I tried to walk past him and open the screen door to let myself in.
“Like I said,” he replied, reaching up to forcefully take my hand off the doorknob. “Ain’t no Adam ever been here.” He stood up, barely taller than I was, as he finally focused his crossed and glassy eyes on me. He just stood there with his poorly shaven face and hideous breath, just glaring.
“Look, I don’t know what is going on,” I said, backing away, “but I sure as hell know there was a man named Adam here. If you are in on all this, fine, but I will not let this go.”
I stood in the alley, ready to pick a fight with a little old man.
“Suit yourself,” he said taking a drag of his cigarette. “Whatever gets yup in the mornin’.” I snorted, wanting so badly to continue arguing with the man, but I realized there was really no use. Once I stopped to listen, I could tell in my gut he was telling the truth. He really didn’t know who I was talking about. I walked away defeated, yet vowing to get to the bottom of it. Putting aside what I needed or wanted to know about Adam, he had just been kidnapped and I was going to find out why.
*****
The confusion of my past started to seep through the epoch of happiness that was my time with Ryan. Every question I had forgotten to ask was now brought up with an instant mistrust for everyone around me; including him.
I tried to convince myself that I should seek answers elsewhere, but after reminding myself of the tattoo and how it seemed to be connected to him, I chose to go straight home and confront Ryan about all of it. I had trusted him as much as I could in my situation, and now wondered how deep into this he was. When I arrived home, I could tell that he had already been told about the events of the day and was trying to prepare himself for whatever came next.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, slamming my bag down and walking towards him. “There is obviously something going on and you know what it is.” I wasn’t hiding fact that I was agitated by my confusion and my distrust of the whole situation.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied, rocking back in the kitchen chair, never looking me in the eye. “I don’t know anything other than what I heard today.” “I call bullshit.” I said, sitting in the chair across from him. I hoped maybe getting to his level would force him to look at me. “You know more about my memory loss than you want to admit.”
“I really don’t know what you are talking about,” he said again, sitting his chair on all fours and finally looking at me. He thought maybe if he looked me square in the face, I would back down.
“The tattoo,” I whispered, not backing down. “You have the tattoo.” “What does that have to do with anything?” he asked. “So, I have a tattoo.” He adjusted himself, leaning on his elbows to get closer to me; his face hardened just a bit. “How about you tell me what happened this afternoon?”
“Why should I?” I asked. “By your demeanor, I think you already know.” Ryan looked down, putting his head in his hands. He pulled at his hair as he tried to keep his frustration from turning into anger. “But why, why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone?”
"Ryan," I blurted, a bit agitated. “Seriously, why are you making me ask repeatedly? What happened today was only a small part of a bigger conspiracy. I can feel it in my bones.” I adjusted myself in my seat and took a deep breath. “You are somehow connected to all of it. If you can’t admit it to me for reasons I don’t understand, just at least tell me that I am not crazy.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes as I waited for him to answer, but he didn’t utter a word. He just tapped his foot nervously on the floor and kept his head in his hands, in a desperate attempt to hide whatever expression he had on his face.
I reached across the table and grabbed his hand, hoping my touch would persuade him. “Please, just tell me what is going on. What do you know about the man in the diner and what is it that you are hiding from me?” He gripped my hand, acknowledging the fact that he felt my pain.
“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he choked. “And I have no right to be angry at you for the man in the diner.”
“So, you do know who he is?” I asked.
He began to sob, pulling my hand to his face, cradling his cheek with it. “I just wanted to love you, the way I knew you deserved,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on the table. “I knew that I could love you more than he ever could.”
“Ryan, what are you talking about?” I asked, leaning closer to him. He was so incredibly upset that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Why couldn’t you love me?” he asked. “I thought if I loved you the best I could you would come around.”
“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?” I asked.
“I can’t,” he said through sniffles and tears. “I can’t give you the answers you need.” “Who can?” I asked stroking his hair with my free hand. “Who can tell me what I need to know.”
“I don’t know,” he answered, trying to look away.
“Who am I?” I asked him, forcing his gaze with my hand to his cheek, but he just shook his head from side to side, refusing to answer.
“Ryan, please…just tell me who to talk to,” I begged.
“I have to go,” he announced, bolting out of his chair. “I can’t be here anymore.”
“This is your house,” I said, going after him. “You don’t have to leave."
“Yes, I do,” he replied, grabbing nothing more than a jacket. “And you need to let me.”
So, I let him go. I mean, how was I supposed to know that would be the last time I would see him...for a very long time. *****
After twenty-four hours of hearing nothing from Ryan, I went to his parent’s house, hoping to get some answers as to his whereabouts. Elaina assured me he was safe, but had left the city, wishing to be left alone.
“What do you mean lef
t the city? He literally walked out in the middle of a conversation that we need to finish,” I blurted.
“And he obviously doesn’t want to finish that conversation,” she replied. “I think it is best if you just let this go.”
“But let what go?” I asked her, annoyed by the fact that she wouldn’t let me past the front door.
“All of it,” she said, staying as vague as her son. “Honestly, you are getting yourself involved in something you don’t belong being involved in.”
She motioned for her butler to shut the door. “But it is my life and I have every right to know,” I said, sticking my foot between the door and its frame. “Just let me talk to Alistair then, please! I need some answers. I need to make sense of something.”
“He is not here either,” the Butler answered for her. “If you seek answers, go back to where it all began.”
“HUH?” I asked.
“Don’t give up,” he continued, ignoring me. “You will find what you seek soon enough.”
“You know what is going on?” I asked the well-dressed man.
“No, but I know the beginning is always the best place to start!” he replied, shutting the door in my face. *****
I hadn’t been gone more than a couple hours but when I arrived back home, more of my life had already dramatically changed. What I found, felt like a deliberate smack in the face.
Absolutely nothing. Everything in the apartment had vanished. There was nothing there to even suggest that either Ryan or I had ever even lived there. Not a box, a piece of leftover trash or speck of dust lingered.
Just a simple note, taped to the fridge written in a handwriting I didn’t recognize at all. You will find your belongings have been taken to your studio. The property has been gifted to you. You will find all the legal paperwork is in order and with your belongings. You have also been provided with a small monthly stipend that will be delivered to you by courier on the first of each month.
We only ask that you do not attempt to look for Mr. Ryan Renaldi or contact his family in any way.
Mr. and Mrs. Renaldi will contact you if and when it is necessary.
I was floored. I mean honestly, I couldn’t understand why any of this was happening and now, I was being paid to stay away from the family?
Their reaction in my opinion was outrageous and ridiculously extreme. But, that is before I really truly understood the rest of my story. Once I knew the truth, it was easy to forgive all of it. But, we are not at that part of the story yet, so at this point I am still really upset. And when a girl is upset, she goes straight to her best friend. By now it was Friday night and I knew exactly where Zara would be. I was not in the mood to be there in the slightest, but I knew she would never hear her phone and I really needed her with me.
So, dressed in despair and ratty sneakers, torn jeans and one of Ryan’s old sweatshirts, I made my way to the front of the line at Aaru and begged to be let in to see her.
“Um, no way,” the bouncer announced when he saw me. “You will not get in looking like that.”
“But, I have to,” I demanded, as I tried to push passed the six-foot-four exfootball player. “My friend is in there and I have to see her!”
“So, go home and wait for her,” he replied. “She’ll have to leave this place ‘ventually.”
“NO!” I yelled over the music that escaped the open club doors. “I really need to see her now!” But he wouldn’t budge. He just stood there shaking his head no every time I opened my mouth to beg him to let me in.
I was getting ready to plead with him again when through the noise of the crowd and the beat of the music inside, I could hear the whirring of a surveillance camera as it moved to focus on me. I looked up, glaring at it, hoping the person on the others side would notice of my presence and invite me in. But, even if they did notice, they didn’t let me in.
Finally, I decided to try to push my way through one last time, to no avail. Another bouncer had come out of nowhere and stood side by side with the man who blocked me, to reinforce his position.
I don’t know what I was thinking, but the next thing I knew, I had my hand to his chest with the intent to push a six- foot-five and three-hundred-fifty pound man out of my way.
Call it rage,or call it determination, but something inside of me began to boil. I was tired of the obstacles, physical or metaphorical, that prevented me from getting the answers I needed. I was determined to finally be heard and every fiber of my being reacted in a manner I now couldn’t control. As my hand landed on his sternum, the outrage I had been feeling released from my chest as a bolt of blue light that shot out of the palm of my hand, burning an instant hole in his black silk shirt and landing him three feet into the wall behind him.
That got the attention of the man behind the surveillance camera and made me feel instantly better. I stood there gawking at my hand, when the club doors burst opened, while two more bouncers came out and surrounded me. They stood silently guarding me, nervously keeping an eye on me as they insisted I neither leave the premises or enter the building. None of them wanted to touch me however, so they kept a cautious distance.
“If I let you in here, are you going to behave?” the cadaverous looking club owner asked, coming out behind them.
I recognized him from last trip to the club years ago.
“Hello Noita,” I said sheepishly, remembering him quite easily. “I am just here to find my friend.” “I think after what we just witnessed she is not the person you need to be talking to,” he said as he pivoted effortlessly on his four inch heels, throwing the bottom of his gaudy dress to the ground and motioning me to follow him.
I hesitated, knowing he wasn’t going to take me to her, but soon followed, desperately trying not to step on the four foot train that followed behind him. As we battled our way through the crowd, I searched for Zara, hoping that I could at least tell her I was there but there were just too many people around me. I looked up into Gail’s VIP suite but I couldn’t see them there either.
“Where are we going?” I asked the bouncer who walked stoically beside me. “I really would rather find my friend first.”
Of course he didn’t answer me, he just pushed people out of the way so I could walk through. “Ok great! Nice talking to you,” I said sarcastically trying to dodge the drunks he couldn’t catch fast enough, as they stumbled into my path. Occasionally I would grab one of them, just to check and see if they were Zara. One person caught my eye as he walked past me with his head down. He was stumbling around like the rest and stayed close to the heels of a man I knew I had seen before. A man who was so deep in thought, that he was ignorant of my existence for a moment.
“Samiel,” I muttered quietly, remembering the man’s name. That caught his attention though, causing him to snap his head around, grab ahold of my arm and pull me close enough to stand nearly nose to nose.
He looked at Noita, who now stood petrified of the man who was about to address him. The man, now annoyed with the noise around us, waved a hand, forming a strange sound proof bubble around the four of us. Everything on the outside the bubble moved in slow motion, like fish in the sea, fighting against the current.
“Why has it taken this long for her to get here?” Samiel asked the club owner. “Why isn’t she remembering?”
“It’s not like last time,” Noita replied, shaking in his stilettos. “This is something very different. Besides, I don’t see you making any progress either.”
He might have been terrified of the man, but he sure didn’t allow that to temper his moxie.
“I haven’t been trying,” Samiel returned, “It is no longer my job. So again, why haven’t you gotten her to remember?”
“The Librarian had her your Highness,” Noita announced. “I couldn’t get to her as long as he and the Annunaki were protecting her.”
“Well she’s here now, is she not?” Samiel growled. “Work your Magasian voodoo and figure out how to break it!” he demanded.
Of course,
I was not listening to any of this conversation, because I found myself fiercely fixated on the other man in the bubble.
“Adam?” I asked, staring at his face.
“Um, my name is Michael,” he replied with a dry mouth and a high level of disorientation. “Are you sure?” I asked. The man I was looking at was easily a doppelganger if not the man I had seen in the diner. He did look as though he had a couple years on him, but he looked too much like him to not question it.
“I’m pretty positive,” he said, rubbing his shoulder blade with a twinge of bewilderment.
I could see how hard he was questioning himself as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. “Do you know where we are?” he asked, placing his hand on the bubble wall. It rippled slightly as his hand pierced its membrane, causing the music to blast us in the face.
“I don’t care what you have to do,” Samiel continued, flicking the membrane of the sound bubble causing it to disperse into a fine mist, “get her to remember and do it soon.”
He grabbed man known as Michael and stormed towards the door, leaving Noita a bit shaken and me quite curious about his companion.
“Who was that man?” I asked Noita as he hurried up the stairs to his lair.
“That is Samiel,” he announced. “Someone you do not need to worry about right now.”
“Not him,” I corrected, sprinting up the stairs to catch up to him. “The one with him.”
“Oh,” he said, picking his teeth with one of his claws, “That’s his son, Michael.”
He stopped, watching my reaction and then continued up the stairs.
“He looks so much like someone else I know,” I announced.
“Everyone has as doppelganger,” he replied. “Maybe you met his.”
He motioned for me to have a seat across from him as he asked one of his half naked man servants to get him a drink.
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asked, as he pulled playfully on the feminine man’s loin cloth.
“I am fine,” I replied. “I really need to find my friend so she can help me get some answers as to what is going on.” “You mean like what just happened outside the club,” he asked, grabbing the glass out of his servant’s hand. “She isn’t going to be able to give you the answers you need.”
