11. Amelie
11
AMELIE
“Okay. Everyone in this apartment is getting their head shaved.”
Meg and Jensen spring up from the couch. They’re bundled up and warm, cups of hot cocoa in their hands. The TV is playing some rom-com, but they’ve muted it.
Good. I’m mad. And cold.
It started snowing on my run home.
“Meg,” I start coolly, grabbing my inhaler and taking a puff. Being asthmatic is my one and only downfall in this life. “What was that ? Where did those guys come from?”
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I did a body scan before, I swear. Nobody was in there when I checked. They must’ve just arrived.”
I brush a pile of snowflakes off my shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“How did you even get out?” Jensen asks, handing me a mug of cocoa. He attempted to make a smiley face with marshmallows, probably to humor me. It doesn’t work, but I still take a sip.
“Well,” I start, “while you two were here canoodling?—”
“We were worried about you!”
“ I was forced to make a deal with Henry Arlington.”
They gasp in unison.
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re basically indebted to him now. I reckon we’ll meet with him tomorrow or the next day to discuss…things.”
“NO!” Meg groans. “Come on, Amelie. We aren’t getting in more trouble with this man.”
“Too late for that. He got the security guards and police to let me go, so we don’t really have a choice.”
Her eyes widen. “They didn’t see your face?”
“Not once.”
“Wow,” she mutters, looking at Jensen. “He’s desperate.”
“Very,” he confirms with a nod. “Something is up.”
“And we’ll figure out what it is,” I say. “I promise you that.”
Meg sighs and sits back down on the couch. I take the cushion next to her, intent on splitting her and Jensen up, just because I’m a bother. He isn’t discreet with his annoyance, but he sits down beside me anyways. I grab my laptop off the table and set it in my lap.
“The missing piece resembles this,” I say when I’ve got a picture of Heyser’s Ophelia pulled up. “He wants it back fast. I’d guess it’s worth a hefty amount of money, given how intent he seems on finding the thing.”
Meg hums and takes out her phone. “I’ve been looking at new trade-offs, but I haven’t seen anything. Is that all he told you?”
“That, and it wasn’t displayed. I don’t think it’s completed, either, which is strange. Why would anyone want an incomplete piece?”
“Maybe to finish and sell? To change it up, just enough that it looks different?” Jensen shrugs. “I don’t know. Why do we do what we do?”
“Because it’s what we’re good at,” I say simply. “Maybe it’s the same for them.”
But Meg shakes her head, clearly not agreeing with my observation. “No. This isn’t the result of a job like ours. When have we ever taken an incomplete?”
“Never,” Jen and I say simultaneously.
“Exactly. So maybe it was personal.”
I hadn’t come to that conclusion yet, but it isn’t an impossibility.
“If that is the case,” I say slowly, “what are the odds of it being out in the open?”
Meg sighs. “Slim to none. You’ve got us in an impossible position, Ames.”
“No such thing,” I argue, closing my laptop a little too forcefully. “We’ll just tell Henry that we think it’s personal. Maybe there’s someone he suspects. I’m working out some plans in my mind; surely one will be good enough by tomorrow.”
She raises her brows. “Please share with the class.”
I take a sip of my cocoa. “Not until they’re good.”
Jensen sighs, and I can tell he’s wary. Which is fair. My plans are a sight to behold, even more once they’re put into action. I consider anyone who has been at the hands of one a very lucky human.
Currently, I’ve got three ideas.
The first is simple: to get Henry out in the open. To tempt the thief with something new and shiny. I wasn’t just throwing words around when I suggested a decoy—I think it’s smart. Basic, maybe, but it’s the one Henry is most likely to agree to.
The second is a little worse: we get an actual detective involved. That would lead us slightly closer to the police route, though not too close. I bet we could swing it if we tried hard enough, but I don’t know Henry’s opinion on that, and I won’t be asking.
The third is to leave the country and take my business to France where Henry can never find me again. It’s the most fun and also the most ridiculous. But I could never bear to leave Dave or my parents, so really, it’s void.
Ugh. My parents. I need to call and let them know that we’ll be working through them tomorrow, all with minimal details. They own a concert hall downtown; Grand Arts Hall. It’s their pride and joy, second only to raising a family, I assume. We run our business through there, which includes cashing our earnings to them so it can be legally dealt. They mark up enough tickets to get us a ‘paycheck’, no money is lost, and it all looks good enough. We often drop the piece off, make sure it’s covered, then let our client know when and where to pick it up. The hall has a couple separate loading docks, so it works well.
Now, I can imagine what questions this is drawing.
Your parents know you’re a felon? My goodness! Why don’t they turn you in?!
And that’s the funny thing.
Before hosting ballets was their job, they did exactly what I do. Art trading was basically their life, but I guess they wanted something more normal when they started a family. I don’t think they really intended for me to pick it up, to follow in their footsteps, but we can’t help what we’re drawn to.
They don’t scrutinize me for it. Honestly, I think they’re still a little drawn to it, and that’s why they let us work through the hall.
Suddenly, my mind shifts from all this to the fact that I still haven’t seen the painting we got tonight. Did it even make it back here? Why are Jensen and Meg just sitting here?!
“WHERE IS IT?” I basically shout, sitting upright. “Where’s the piece?”
“In the van,” Jensen says calmly.
I am not calm. “You left it in the van? Are you stupid?”
“We wanted to make sure you were okay before we sent it to trade,” Meg says, sounding more than a little sympathetic. “Forgive us for having souls.”
“I have a soul, and it is anxiety-ridden. Let’s get it over with before someone catches sight of the thing.”
She shakes her head. “We’re fine. I tucked it away, and the van is covered. It can wait until morning. We’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
I close my eyes and lean further into the cushions. I don’t want to wait until morning. Leaving something unfinished makes me nervous. I need an abundant amount of sleep to deal with all this, and that won’t happen if I’m worrying.
“Fine,” I mutter, despite my reluctance. “But early morning. Earlier than either of you prefer.”
“That’s fine,” Meg says. “I’ll stay the night.”
“You can sleep in bed with me.”
“No, you snore.”
I gape. “I do not. ”
“Oh my gosh, do you seriously not think you snore?” Jensen’s brows raise. “You’re like a chainsaw, Ames. It’s bad.”
“YOU KNOW I HAVE ALLERGIES!”
“That doesn’t mean we should suffer,” Meg says.
“Well then.” I stand and down the rest of my cocoa, then rinse the mug out in the sink. “Opposite ends of the couch.”
“Oh, good grief, Amelie,” Jen mutters.
“I mean it, too.” I make a show of walking backwards and watching them until I close my bedroom door. Once it latches behind me, I change out of my still-wet clothes and turn the lights off before climbing into bed. Jensen absolutely destroyed the state of my room—the sheets are on the floor and the pillows are flattened beyond belief. I fix the blankets and fluff the pillows before doing my best to drift off.
I’m halfway asleep when my phone buzzes on my nightstand.
The screen manages to light nearly my entire room. I paw at the nightstand until the phone is in my palm and squint to read the message.
It’s Henry, which is not at all what I expected to see.
Arlington
Hello.
If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate you and your ‘team’ meeting me tomorrow morning. The cafe you chose today will be fine. 10:00.
I all but snort at my phone screen. This is what I wake up for? For him to demand I meet him at the patisserie tomorrow?
Okay, that’s a little unfair. He didn’t demand in the slightest. He’s actually being overly polite. Who texts like this? And why are we completely glazing over what happened just hours ago?
Whatever. I’m not going to be the one to bring it up.
fine
and why did you put your name in my phone as arlington. what if i didn’t know that was you. what if i sat here confused for an hour, wondering who you were. imagine me scared. curious. TERRIFIED.
I set my phone back down, assuming he won’t say anything to that mess, but he replies seconds later.
Arlington
I did it for old time’s sake.
Oh. I don’t like that.
He’s not wrong , I guess. I used to call him Arlington, back before I wanted to strangle him with his intestines. It’s just a snazzy word, you know? Like those names in old time-y dramas that everyone likes. I find it classy. It suits him very well.
But I absolutely won’t stand for that right now.
no. we won’t be doing that.
Arlington
Oh, what? Reminiscing?
LET ME GO TO SLEEP
I can practically hear his laugh as I read his next message.
Arlington
Whatever you want, Ames. Goodnight.
It takes a good portion of my willpower to put my phone down and close my eyes.