18 LIKE CRY,LIKE RIP
18
LIKE CRY, OR LIKE RIP
Nisha steps along the passageway directly behind Melinda’s office block, dodging discarded McDonald’s wrappers and Starbucks cups. As I follow, I glance back up at the floor where I have my therapy every Thursday. I’ve never seen it from this angle, having only ever entered through the revolving doors at the front where it’s all modern and smart. From here, it looks the complete opposite: grey and oppressive. It’s dark in this alley. I can only just make out Nisha stopping halfway down it, in front of a door.
I hesitate. Fucking doors. I’m really beginning to hate them.
‘Hurry up,’ she hisses.
I weave my way through the litter, trying to look through the unlit windows on the bottom floor next to me, but all I can see is my reflection in the black glass. Tear marks streak through the face paint on my cheeks and one of my contacts has fallen out. One eye is green, the other back to my normal brown.
I really do look a mess.
‘Why are we here?’ I say as I join her. ‘I don’t understand—’
‘You asked me what I was doing that night.’ She cuts me off. ‘And I’m going to show you.’ She pulls her bag from her back and begins to unzip it.
‘It’s weird that we’re here,’ I whisper.
‘Why?’
‘Because I have therapy in this building.’
She stops and looks up. ‘What?’
‘I have therapy in this building. Up on the fourth floor.’ I point to the windows above us.
‘In this building?’
‘Yeah. That’s why I was at the bus stop. I was in a therapy session before I robbed you.’
She frowns. ‘I was in this building before you robbed me too.’
‘What?’
She suddenly looks scared again. ‘Yeah. I come here every Thursday.’
‘To this building?’
‘Yes.’
‘For therapy?’
‘No.’
‘But…’ My body is tingling, firing with adrenaline. ‘Nisha, why were you here?’
‘Just wait.’ She reaches into her bag and pulls something out. A vape. The passageway is illuminated in a glowing red as she takes in a long drag of air. She exhales shakily. ‘I’m going to tell you everything I know.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Good.’
‘But that’s it, OK? I can only tell you what I know. That’s where this ends.’
‘Yeah, that’s all I need.’
‘You can do what you want with the information, but you have to promise not to drag me into any more of this. Not to follow me. To leave me alone, OK? And you have to promise not to repeat this to anyone.’ She steps towards me, holding my gaze. ‘ Promise me .’
A heat lingers in the pit of my stomach – apprehension, maybe? Concern? ‘I promise. I won’t tell anyone.’
She takes another drag. When she speaks again, the vapour leaves her lips in thin wisps, weaving their way around us. I can smell it. Cherry. ‘Casimir works in this building as a cleaner during the week. I come here every Thursday, before the weekend begins, and he gives me something. I then take it to TraumaLand. I’m here for no longer than ten minutes.’
‘Hold on. Casimir works as a cleaner?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Casimir, your boss?’
‘Yes.’
‘Casimir who owns TraumaLand is a cleaner in this building?’
‘You seem confused.’
‘Well, yes, Nisha.’
‘Can cleaners not own businesses too?’ she says, like I’m being a judgy little posh boy again.
‘That’s not what’s confusing,’ I say. Although there was a lot of money flying around TraumaLand so I don’t quite follow why he’d need another job. Why would he be a cleaner too? ‘What’s confusing is that it’s the same building where I get my therapy.’
‘It’s probably a—’
‘Don’t say it. Coincidences aren’t real.’ She glowers, then takes another drag on her vape. ‘What do you pick up?’
‘A file.’
‘Like a ring binder?’
‘No. A digital file. I’ve not brought you back to the early noughties.’
Funny. ‘What, a chip?’
‘Yes.’
‘From here?’
‘Yes. From Casimir.’
‘From Casimir the cleaner?’
‘Jesus, Eli. Do you have—?’
‘ADHD? Yes.’
‘OK, that makes sense.’
‘Nothing makes sense.’ I realise we’re very close together now. ‘What’s on the digital file?’
‘The stories.’ Oh my God. The stories. From TraumaLand. ‘I think this is where the stories are made.’
‘ In here? ’ Melinda works on the fourth floor. ‘Where does Casimir work?’
‘On the first floor.’
I turn to the door. There’s a combination lock and a metal panel attached to the wall next to it inscribed with the words: HARPER HOUSE: DELIVERIES. There’s also an intercom with a list of business names behind plastic covers, each with a buzzer beside it.
Floor 6: JPR Recruitment Co.
Floor 5: QuickTaxi Call Service Centre
Floor 4: Melinda Parry Therapy
I’ve never clocked that’s her second name before. Parry. Seems so … posh.
Nisha points to it. ‘Is that your therapist?’
‘Yeah.’ I continue to scan down the list.
Floor 3: Canary Marketing LTD
Floor 2: Harlow and Gross Solicitors
As I reach the bottom, I point. Her eyes follow the line of my finger.
Floor 1: _________________
It’s blank.
‘Why’s it blank?’ I whisper.
‘I don’t know…’
I blink. ‘What’s the name of the company he works for?’
‘He didn’t say. Just that it’s some digital analysis thing.’
‘Didn’t you ask him?’
‘I don’t ask questions, Eli.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because…’ She pauses.
‘Because he’s a very particular man.’ I frown as I study the door. ‘Do you know the lock combination?’
She shakes her head.
‘Can you text him? Ask him for it?’
‘No way,’ she says sharply. ‘What don’t you understand? I just do what Casimir tells me to, OK?’
‘Why?’
Her eyes look momentarily blank. Void of anything. She exhales sharply. ‘Look, it’s just a job. I’ve never been beyond this point. He hands me the files here, then goes back inside.’ She points up to a circular camera over the door.
‘Shit.’
‘Don’t worry, he disabled it.’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘The cleaner who disables cameras.’ She gives me that look again, like I’m being judgemental. ‘And before you say it, no, I don’t assume that cleaners can’t disable cameras. But it’s odd that he did, don’t you think? Since he also, you know, owns a live experience trauma-porn club.’ Wait . ‘Was the chip in your phone when I robbed you?’
She cocks her head like I’ve caught her out. ‘There was one tucked behind the case.’
‘So, that’s why you pulled a knife out?’
‘I was defending myself.’
I step towards her. ‘Do you still have it? The chip?’
She puts her hand out. ‘Wow, calm down…’
‘Why doesn’t Casimir just take them there himself? Why do you do it?’
‘I don’t know, Eli. Jesus. Stop asking me questions.’ She slings her bag over her shoulder like she’s about to leave.
‘ Wait .’ I put my hand on her arm. She flinches and I remove it. ‘Sorry – I didn’t mean to… Please, just wait a moment.’ Her body goes still. ‘Don’t you want to know what this place is?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says quietly. That blankness suddenly returns. ‘I think I need to go now.’
Fine. ‘Fine. Bye, Violet. I’m going in.’
She frowns. ‘Eli…’
But I’m already concocting a plan. I look back down the alleyway at the windows. I’m good at opening windows. Adrenaline fires in my stomach.
‘Don’t you think they’re alarmed?’ Nisha says.
I have no idea. All I know is that smashing one probably isn’t a good idea. I stare at the deliveries panel. Interesting.
‘Look, I’m going to leave.’ No you’re not. ‘This is really stup—’ As I press the buzzer, the noise cuts her off. ‘What are you doing?’
I press it again. Come on.
The intercom clicks. ‘ Hello, QuickTaxi .’
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I have a food delivery. Nom Nom’s burgers?’
‘ I don ’ t think we ordered any ,’ the voice on the intercom says back. ‘ Hold on, I ’ ll just ask .’
‘I’m in a rush, mate. Can you just open the door and I’ll leave it inside? I’ve got a load more to get through and it’s fuckin’ freezing.’
I hear muffled noises as he puts his finger over the mouthpiece. I strain forwards, my ear pressed against the speaker.
‘ Hey, boys, this delivery man thinks we ordered food .’
‘ What is it? ’
‘ Burgers .’
‘ I ’ ll have a burger .’
‘ Me too .’
More sounds. Then the voice, louder again. ‘ Hey, mate . Don ’ t you need a code from us or whatever? ’
I pause. ‘Nah.’
I can feel Nisha’s glare as I assume a cockney accent. To be honest, I think it’s good. Convincing.
‘OK. Cheers, mate.’ A pause. ‘Just leave it there. We … er… We paid on the phone.’
‘Yeah, that’s fine.’
The door clunks and swings open an inch.
I look at Nisha. Her face says you ’ re batshit .
But brilliant mine says back.
‘You coming?’
I step inside and she follows me, into the bottom of a concrete stairwell lit by stark strip lights. I begin to bound up them, two at a time, turning where it bends round, on up another flight of stairs. There I find a door.
It has a small gold plaque nailed into it. My chest feels as if it might rupture. Not fear this time. Panic. Cold, brutal panic.
On the gold plaque there are four words.
Floor One TEAR Solutions
TEAR. Like cry , or like rip ? The card from Lucas’s wallet.
‘TEAR Solutions?’ Nisha says. The buzzing in my brain is at such a high frequency I can’t formulate a reply. All I know is I’m glad she’s here.
‘Eli? What is it?’
‘I’ve seen that name before.’
‘What does it mean?’
I think, Nisha, we are about to find out .
I feel a burning heat in my stomach, my chest, my gut.
The door is slightly ajar.
I push and it opens.