James 35
James
When I walk through the front door carrying a bloody Rosabelle in my arms, everyone rears back. Kenji chokes on his drink and starts coughing so violently that Adam has to whack him on the back multiple times.
“What”—he wheezes—“the fuck—”
Adam whacks him on the back again.
“Most people bring balloons,” Kenji says, fighting through another cough. His eyes are watering. “Flowers. A teddy bear. You bring a fucking dead body into this house?”
“She’s not dead.”
“You sure?” says Adam. “She looks dead.”
“She’s not dead.”
“Close the door, bro. It’s cold outside.”
I kick it shut.
“How did she die?” Kenji is still coughing. “Does Warner know she’s dead? Why did you bring her here?”
“Hi,” Nazeera says brightly, stepping out from behind me. She shrugs out of her coat and stares directly at Kenji.
“Hi,” Kenji says to her, straightening like a pulled puppet. He clears his throat, then sets his water glass down on a side table. “I mean, hi.”
“Hi,” she says again, beaming.
“Hi,” says Adam, crossing his arms.
Kenji and Nazeera turn together to look at him.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” I say to all of them.
“What? This?” Adam turns to me, then nods at Kenji and Nazeera. “They’ve been like this for hours. Did you know about this?”
I shift Rosabelle in my arms. “Yeah. I heard.”
“When did it happen?”
“Today, apparently.”
“Shut up, both of you,” says Kenji, but his voice is weird. And his shoulders are tight. “Nothing happened.”
Nazeera bites her lip. She does not endorse this statement.
“Bullshit,” says Adam. “You’ve both been acting like idiots. Nazeera left a loaded gun in the fridge.”
“What?” She turns to him in shock. “No, I didn’t. I left a box of ammo in the fridge.”
“You’re right, my mistake,” says Adam. “You put the gun in the freezer.”
Her frown deepens. “No, I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did,” Kenji gently corrects her.
“I can attest to that,” says a familiar voice. “Seeing as I was the one who discovered it.”
We all look up at the voice, and I do a double take when I see Castle, of all people, coming down the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” I say. “When did you get here? I thought you weren’t going to be here until next week.”
His smile widens. “Good to see you, too, James.” He strides into the room, then nods at my arms. “Is this the assassin I’ve heard so much about?”
“What? Oh. Yeah.” I glance down at Rosabelle, her cheek still tucked against my chest. I sound suddenly breathless. “Yeah. Um, this is Rosabelle.”
He gives me a quizzical look. “I have so many questions.”
“Ditto,” says Kenji.
“Wait, is that my sweater?” Nazeera says, peering at Rosabelle in the light. “Oh my God, I just realized she’s wearing my sweater. I thought I got rid of that.” She hesitates. “Where is Winston, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” says Adam. “We’ve been trying to reach him.”
“He went out a few hours ago,” Kenji volunteers. “What time is it?”
“Late.” Adam checks his watch. “After midnight.”
“Never mind, he’s probably asleep.”
I feel like, maybe, I’ve lost my mind.
Maybe I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.
This house—my house—looks exactly the same.
No broken windows, no rain of debris, all electricity intact.
Everything is the way it was when I left this morning: clean, tidy.
Kenji takes a seat on a couch in the living room.
Adam drops into a chair across from him, pools of warm lamplight casting everything in a cozy glow.
“As much as I’d love to stay for this fascinating reunion,” Castle says, clearing his throat. “I have to head back to headquarters. Mr. Warner has asked me to look into a few things while he takes some much needed time with his family.”
“Whoa, what’s going on?” asks Kenji, half rising to his feet. “Do you need me?”
Castle shakes his head, casting Nazeera a surreptitious glance as she heads into the kitchen. “Not just yet,” he says to Kenji. “I believe you still have some important work to do here.”
The significance of this statement isn’t lost on anyone but Nazeera, whose head is deep inside the refrigerator.
Kenji’s color heightens. He sinks back down in his seat.
Castle flashes him a smile before heading to the door. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he tells us. “And I’ll bring breakfast.”
I’m still reeling as I watch him go.
By the time Nazeera glances over her shoulder and says, “Castle, would you like something to drink?” he’s already gone.
The door clicks shut behind him.
Nazeera straightens, banging her head against the inside of the fridge. She winces as she looks around, letting the door fall closed. “Where’s Castle?”
“He left,” I tell her.
“What? Where’d he go?” she says, rubbing at the sore spot. “He just got here.”
I sigh, exasperated.
“What did I tell you?” Adam calls from the living room. “Idiots all day.”
“Shut up,” Kenji says, scowling.
Nazeera matches this scowl before giving up on the fridge and heading to the sink, where a heap of flowers are arrayed on the counter.
Empty vases have been pulled from the cabinets, waiting to be filled.
Nazeera starts snipping stems, tossing green ends into the sink, each one landing with a soft thud.
I’m standing in a unique position by the door where I can see into the spacious kitchen and living room at the same time, the two scenes playing out before me with freakish normalcy.
No one seems the least bit concerned or traumatized by tonight’s events.
No one seems to register the enormity of what happened.
They don’t even seem to care that Rosabelle is injured.
I shift her higher in my arms, tensing with agitation, and she makes a soft, contented sound against my chest.
I exhale too hard.
“So, uh, where are they?” I ask, turning my eyes to the stairwell. “Is everyone upstairs?”
I don’t hear the sound of a baby crying.
I thought babies cried a lot.
“No way,” says Kenji, pointing at me. “You are not going up there like that. You will deposit the dead body before you go anywhere. And you will not bury the body in the backyard.”
“She’s not dead,” I say for the third time.
“She’s comatose,” he scoffs. “There’s blood all over her neck. And shirt. And hands. And—Gross, take off your shoes, you’re tracking that shit into the house—”
I take a calming breath, backtrack to the front door, and kick off my gym shoes with an irritated sigh. I never wear shoes in the house. I’m distracted.
Frustrated.
“Uh-uh,” says Kenji. “Get hers off, too.”
“I’ll take off her shoes in a minute,” I argue. “First I need to put her down—”
“Where?”
I hesitate. “What?”
“Where are you going to put her down?” he asks.
“I’ve got a tarp in the garage,” Adam offers. “I can run home and grab it.”
“I think Warner has one here,” says Kenji, looking up at me. “You guys have a tarp, right?”
Okay, yeah, I might be going insane.
“Are you—Is this some kind of a joke?” I say, my temper rising. I shoot Nazeera a hard look. “Are you all fucking with me right now?”
“I’m just trying to help,” Adam says with a shrug. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Yes,” I say, irritated. “I’m going to take her up to my room.”
“Ew.” Kenji makes a face. “You’re going to take a dead body up to your room?”
“She’s not dead—”
“She looks dead, bro.”
My jaw tightens. “She’s not—”
“Okay, well, something is wrong with her,” says Adam. “Because she’s covered in blood, limp in your arms, and unresponsive to light or sound.”
“She’s asleep,” I point out.
“No way she’s asleep,” says Adam, shaking his head. “You’re in denial. That girl looks like a corpse.”
“Her body is warm,” I argue. “She has color in her cheeks—”
“Maybe she’s in a coma?” Kenji suggests.
“No, she—What?” I experience a flash of alarm; it hadn’t occurred to me that she might be in a coma. I lower my face to her ear. “Rosabelle?” I whisper. “Baby, can you hear me?”
She inhales sharply.
Then she shifts, her hand lifting in a sudden motion. Her bloodstained fingers catch on my collar, curling into the fabric before slowly, softly releasing.
I look up.
“She’s not in a coma,” I announce to the room.
Kenji’s eyes widen. He sits back on the couch, pulling a bowl of chips into his lap. “Okay,” he says, popping a chip in his mouth, crunching as he studies me. “You’re going to have to tell me what the hell is going on here.”
“Why don’t you start?” I hit back. “How can you just sit around acting like nothing even happened tonight?”
“Hey, I brought flowers,” says Kenji, pointing a chip at me. “They’re upstairs. In a nice vase. I picked them out myself.”
“We’ve been here for hours, bro,” says Adam. “No one’s acting like nothing happened. You’re late.”
“Yeah,” adds Kenji. “You’re late and you brought a dead body to the birthday party. Two strikes.”
“And he’s covered in blood,” Adam points out.
“Three strikes,” says Kenji.
“That’s not what I’m talking about—and for the last time, she’s not dead—”
“Whoa, wait, hold on a second,” says Adam, gesturing at me and Rosabelle. “Isn’t this, like, illegal or something? I thought you weren’t allowed to go near her. I thought she was going to marry some other guy?”
“Adam,” says Nazeera, popping out of the kitchen. She points her scissors at him like a weapon.
“What?” He searches between us. “Was that a secret? I can’t remember what’s a secret and what isn’t anymore.”
“Things have changed,” I say, my voice heating. “That’s not happening anymore.”
Kenji looks skeptical. “Says who?”
“Me,” I say darkly.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works.” Kenji shakes the chip bowl, searching its depths. He chooses one, then discards it. Chooses another. Pops it in his mouth. He crunches before he says, “I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not going to let it happen.”
“Interesting. That reminds me,” says Kenji, tapping a potato chip against his chin. “Do you guys remember that time Rosabelle slit his throat?”
“Shut up.”
“She was going to harvest his organs, too, remember?” says Adam. He gets up from his chair, takes a seat next to Kenji, then reaches for the bowl of chips.
“My bad, man,” says Kenji, glancing at Adam. “I should’ve offered.”