Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
M arise adjusted the collar of her denim jacket and stepped into the Metro.
The scent of popcorn and old upholstery in the lounge hit her immediately, nostalgic and comforting.
She hadn't been in a place like this in years—very retro and red. A poster of The Day the Earth Stood Still hung above the ticket counter, its faded edges curling slightly. The kind of theatre that hadn’t changed since the eighties and didn’t plan to start now.
She bought a ticket, a small popcorn and a coke, then grabbed a couple of paper serviettes and a straw off the counter.
She walked up the short flight of steps to the door, and once inside, scanned the crowd. It was half full with a mix of students, sci-fi fans, and hipster couples, most with tubs of popcorn. Indie nerds who knew the lines by heart and came for the love of it.
She spotted Ted half-way down. Messy brown hair, black-rimmed glasses, a tan polo shirt with Darth Vader’s picture on the front. He chatted with a male friend, another bespectacled type in a Dune T-shirt.
Marise took a breath and headed down the aisle to the row above him. She plopped into the seat directly behind him, and promptly splashed her coke over his head.
He jolted upright with a startled, “Fuck!”
"Shit…I'm so sorry," Marise said, leaning forward with two serviettes. "I wasn’t watching where I…here, let me?—"
Ted laughed, reaching back to take the serviettes from her hand. "No, no, it’s okay. I’ll fix it.”
His friend snorted beside him. "Bet the Blob would clean that up faster than you."
Marise grinned. "In this version, it’d take its time and traumatize a teenager."
Ted turned fully around, grinning through damp curls. "Seen it before?"
"Too many times," she said. "It’s tradition. Red wine, sarcasm, and Steve McQueen being a teenager."
His friend leaned in. "You had me at sarcasm."
Ted extended a hand. "I’m Ted. This is Simon."
"Cass," she said, slipping into her alias without a blink. "Cass Mullins."
Simon offered a salute. "Welcome to the Church of Bad Science and Gelatinous Monsters."
When the opening titles flickered to life on the screen, a cheer rippled through the audience. The lights dimmed, and the blob began its slow, ridiculous oozing across a matte painting of Pennsylvania.
They fell into a rhythm of whispered commentary. Simon muttered about the blob’s unrealistic physics while Ted quoted entire lines under his breath. Marise slipped in wry observations that made them both snort. Every few minutes, Ted half-turned to glance at her, his smile easy and open.
When the monster enveloped a diner in stop-motion fury, Simon whispered, "Now that's how you deal with a health code violation."
Marise gave a little chuckle.
Ted elbowed him. "You’re gonna get us kicked out."
"Me? She started it with the coke baptism."
A voice from behind hissed, "Quiet."
"Sorry," Marise whispered.
"Apologies," Ted added. Then, under his breath, "Blob's got nothing on her death glare."
They giggled like kids, shoulders shaking.
When the credits finally rolled, the theatre erupted in scattered applause. People stood, stretching and shuffling. Ted turned to Marise, and grinned. "There's a pub across the road. You up for a drink? You kind of owe me one."
She raised an eyebrow. "For what? Washing your hair?"
Simon grinned. "Come on, Cass. You'll fit right in."
Marise hesitated long enough to appear unsure, then smiled. "Sure. Why not. I was only going home. First drinks are on me."
They filed out into the night, laughter trailing behind them as they crossed the street.
The pub was dim and warm, crowded but cozy, with wooden furniture and chalkboard menus. They found a table and ordered drinks and a plate of fries.
"So, what do you do, Cass?" Simon asked, sipping his beer.
"Freelance editor," she said without hesitation. "Mostly science stuff. Reports, whitepapers. My brother is in energy, and I kind of fell sideways into it."
Ted perked up. "No kidding? What kind of science?"
"Whatever pays," she said, then smiled. "But I read a lot about environmental systems. Biomimicry. Stuff like that."
Ted’s face lit up. "That's my wheelhouse. Sort of. I work with a lab that's developing experimental plants."
Marise feigned polite interest. "Really?"
"Yeah. It’s a bit niche and early stages."
Simon added, "Translation: he pokes plants with wires and hopes they don't die."
Ted ignored him. "My boss is the real genius. Dr. Kathleen Knowles. You might’ve heard of her."
Marise tilted her head to stare at him. “You kidding. Of course I’ve heard of her. She’s a legend. I read one of her published papers on self-organizing root matrices."
Ted looked impressed. "That one kind of got buried, but it was brilliant. Shit, woman, you really do read this stuff."
"Not only a pretty face," she quipped.
A smile blossomed over his face, a gleam of interest in his eye.
Marise leaned back, letting the conversation flow around her.
This was going better than she’d hoped. Not only had she made contact, she’d done it in a way that felt natural.
Ted was curious, and eager to talk. And he was taken with her.
The more he talked, the more she could see how close he was to the research; enough to be useful.
But he was cautious. Even with a few gentle probes, he didn’t divulge what Kathleen was working on, or how far she had come.
She sipped her drink and smiled. That would come later when he knew her better. And she was going to pursue him.
Ted was the key to unlocking the door.
M arise got home after midnight, dropped her keys and bag on the small table and locked the door behind her.
She’d had a surprising good time with the two PhD students.
They had been fun with no agenda other than to enjoy themselves.
The buzz from the beer was still with her, leaving her feeling pleasantly relaxed.
She peeled off her jacket and wandered into the kitchen for some water.
She pulled out her phone and saw Ava had messaged.
The notification was from Instagram in a photo tag.
Marise opened it, blinking at the image on her screen.
There was Kathleen, standing on the deck of a boat, the city lights glimmering behind her like a postcard. She wore a floral dress and a shawl, with her arms folded in front of her. Beside her, Ava beamed at the camera, champagne glass aloft, pressed in close.
The caption read: Dinner cruise with this stunning creature @kathleenknowles #NightOnTheHarbour #BoatBabes #LangfordLife.
Below it, a carousel of images: the food, the skyline, Ava’s glittering heels, a blurry selfie of the two of them mid-laugh.
Marise stared at it. What the fuck! Kathleen had asked for Ava not her. A knot of jealousy twisted in her stomach. She zoomed in. Kathleen’s face was relaxed, her hair neatly done, her dress soft against the gleam of the harbour lights. She looked really pretty.
Ava was touching her. Called her "stunning," and likely flirted with her the whole fucking evening.
The post was typical Ava. Gregarious, ever-present on the socials.
She posted everything, from her morning coffee to the inside of limousines, and frequently shared photos of her outings.
A scrapbook of charm and champagne, though she only shared it with the other escorts.
If Elise ever saw the posts, she would be furious—she valued discretion over everything.
Marise ran her thumb over the screen. Kathleen had asked for Ava—young beautiful, Ava.
Seething, she set the phone face down on the counter, and sat in the quiet.
She had no claim; she knew that but it didn’t matter.
She still hated the thought of Ava making her laugh, her hands on her.
Ava was impossible to ignore. Marise had met her at Elise’s private luncheons, a weekly fixture for the Langford escorts, where wine flowed freely and alliances were made over fine food.
Ava had stood out. Vivacious, armed with a magnetic grin and a laugh that could turn heads.
She was studying law at NYU and escorting to pay the bills.
She claimed she could memorize a case file in the morning and charm a CEO by evening.
And she did so effortlessly. Marise didn’t dislike her, but she didn’t entirely trust her.
Ava was the kind of woman who thrived on being noticed.
She had a disarming blend of intellect and sparkle that made people lean in closer, and she used it without a qualm.
She talked fast, laughed faster, and knew how to keep a room orbiting around her.
Underneath the glossy surface was a sharp mind and a ruthless sense of self-preservation.
She knew the power of performance, and she never let the mask slip for long.
Ava wasn’t dangerous, merely an opportunist. If Kathleen had chosen her for her date, Ava would make sure she made an impression. Someone as na?ve as Kathleen wouldn’t have a hope against her charms.
The thought of them embracing made her nauseous.
For once in her life, Marise had no answers.