Chapter 16
After the fourth day of not hearing from him, I find myself feeling a little hopeful. Maybe he didn’t like what he found out about me at the restaurant over in Fox Glen. Or maybe he’s dead in a ditch somewhere and I will never have to deal with him ever again.
Both sound like viable options, though if I have my way, I think I’d prefer for Amir’s body to be rotting; serving as a feast for the local fly population.
When my phone rings, I pick it up without looking at the number. I’ve been hovering over my phone all morning, and now that it’s finally ringing, I know who it has to be.
The freaking pharmacy. Who, hopefully, maybe, has decided to grace me with a refill of my Ativan.
“Hello?” I sigh while trying to keep my voice polite. It isn’t the pharmacist’s fault this is becoming such a difficult process.
…Probably.
But if I don’t remind myself of that, my words will come out in a very unkind fashion.
“You certainly don’t sound eager for the day, my little mortician.” The voice on the other end of the line is decidedly not who I’m expecting.
“And you don’t sound like my pharmacist,” I quip in reply.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, then. But perhaps I can make it up to you—”
“Please, please don’t say—”
“By telling you just how easy today’s game is.”
That is definitely not making me feel better. At all. I roll my eyes up to the ceiling of my small apartment, eyes fixed on the fan that’s spinning lazily above my bed to constantly pelt me with cold air. “I don’t want to play.”
“That’s a shame. Do you want to explore that thought, or shall we get started?”
“I think I’d like to explore that thought, actually.”
I swear I hear him huff. Or maybe sigh. I suppose it could be the world’s softest chuckle, but I’d rather imagine him frazzled by my lack of compliance.
“All right, then. Which part of what I said was unclear, Nell? The part where I said I would kill those around you? Or the part where I told you I was very serious about that?” His voice is definitely unamused now, so I’m assuming it was a sigh of exasperation.
“And suddenly, I no longer need to explore this train of thought.” I take a breath, and my fingers wander up to stroke over the fox jawbone necklace I’ve been wearing since he gave it to me.
The chain is fine enough that it doesn’t catch in my hair, but strong enough that, so far, I haven’t had to worry about it breaking.
“Do you like it?”
My fingers jerk away from the black-coated bone like I’ve been burned. “W-what?”
“Your belated birthday present. It just felt very…you. Was I wrong?”
He wasn’t wrong. But that’s the terrifying part. He knows me so well after such a small amount of time, when most people who’ve known me ten times as long would never expect that to be an acceptable gift for me.
“It-it’s unique. It’s pretty,” I allow at last. Part of me wants to thank him. Not just the part that was raised to have good manners, but a deeper part of me that loves the weight of the jawbone around my throat.
But that part needs to go find a ditch to die in, if Amir isn’t going to do that courtesy for me.
“It is pretty,” Amir agrees. “Now pay attention. I won’t repeat myself. Today’s first game is very, very simple, my little mortician.” I’m not sure I like the way he says ‘first’ game. It doesn’t seem fair that there can be more than one.
“Okay?”
“It’s a memory test. All you have to do is answer one question correctly, and you can skip today’s second game.”
Well, that’s actually pretty promising. I open my eyes, once more staring at the ceiling. “Okay? Okay. Umm. Hit me.” My heart flutters like a bird in my ribs, its broken wings thudding against the bones and rattling them from the inside.
Not for the first time, I pity my poor, rabbit heart. Always so quick to flutter and pound. Always wanting an escape from the crap I’ve been dealing with ever since Elaina got sick. I press my hand over my chest, directly over the place where I can feel it beating hardest.
Sorry I’m not kinder to you, I want to tell her. But I blink when I realize Amir is speaking, and quickly tune my thoughts back into his words.
“What was the name of the wine I got at the restaurant the other night?”
I don’t reply. I don’t move at all, but my heart speeds up just a little under my pressing fingers as I search my mind for the answer.
Really, I should know this. I remember looking at the wine menu after he said it. I remember searching for the price, just to see how much it was, and being unsurprised that it was in the upper range of red wines.
“It…it was a red wine,” I say carefully.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
I’m glad he can’t see the face I make.
“And it started with an O.”
Opulence?
Oppenheimer?
…Okay maybe not Oppenheimer.
Shifting on my bed, I force myself to sit up, my hand dropping from my chest. “It started with an o,” I say, half to myself. He doesn’t reply, but I didn’t think he would. “It was…it was.”
It was a word I’m never going to be able to pronounce.
“Fuck, seriously? It started with an o and it was red just isn’t enough? You really expected me to memorize the wine you drank?” My yelp of indignation is louder than I intend it to be. “Was it something like Ornamental?”
“Is that your final guess?”
It’s going to have to be. But I know it isn’t right, which makes something sink in my chest like a rock.
“Yeah,” I huff. “Yeah, I guess it is. I know that’s not right, but—”
“Ornellaia.” He says it once, and I still don’t think I could pronounce it.
“An Italian wine at an Italian restaurant.” I swear I hear the barest hint of reproach in his tone, and I almost feel like a child failing a pop quiz in the third grade all over again.
Only this time, it isn’t fractions, and I don’t have a twin to cry on about it.
“That was an awful game.”
“It was an easy one. But you still lost. So we’ll play again today, later, and you’ll do something for me right now, Nell.” The way he says it causes a shiver to climb my spine, feeling more like claws than tingles.
I hesitate, not knowing what to say, and not wanting to say anything that will make this real. Well, more real than it is. There’s a strange, dream-like quality to the world around me as I stare down at the bed, my legs crossed under me and everything feeling just not quite right.
“What do you want from me, Amir?”
It’s a loaded question. One that I’m not sure he’ll really fall for, or if he’ll just ignore it and give me the superficial answer.
What do you want from me since I lost this game?
When in reality, part of me is asking something a little different.
What do you want from me at the end of all this?
He doesn’t answer at first. In fact, the silence is so drawn out that my stomach twists, and I suddenly have the fear that he’s going to give me the answer to what I’m really asking.
“Go look outside your door for me.” The words break through my racing thoughts, and I’m on my feet before I can even think about what I’m doing. My mouth opens, and I’m about to ask why, but I close it, deciding to just find out for myself.
Though I doubt there will be another nice bone necklace waiting for me. Or another bouquet of dark, perfect flowers.
I’m right, of course. The only thing sitting in front of my door is a box that I heft into my arms. It isn’t heavy, which only makes my stomach flip with more than a small amount of concern.
“Is this where you turn me into a drug mule?” I sigh, like I’m resigned to that fact. “Doomed to search the county for your clients and—”
“Adorable imagination, Nell.” Amir’s voice is dry as he cuts me off, and completely unimpressed. “But no. You’ll have to wait another day for that particular fantasy to come true. And unfortunately, seeing as I do not deal drugs, it won’t be coming from me. Open the box.”
I don’t open the box at first, and I’m not sure if it’s completely from fear, or if the spike of rebellion I feel in my chest has something to do with it.
Why the hell do I have to do what he says?
The answer to that is obvious, really. But still, I push it away.
I lost my choice about playing this game long ago, whether I’m willing to admit that out loud or not.
So I take a breath, then one more for good measure, and slip the dark plum ribbon off the black box—thinking that I have got to give Amir credit where it’s due, his packaging is consistently beautiful.
Whatever I’m expecting, clothing isn’t it.
“I’m confused,” I say into the phone, keeping my words careful. My hands go into the box, and some part of me expects, I don’t know, something humiliating.
But instead, I just find an outfit that I’d honestly wear. My eyes sweep over the dark burgundy, pleated skirt, then the grey sweater with sleeves that start full and become snug at the elbows. That’s all. A sweater and a skirt.
Both of which are exactly my style, not that I get the opportunity to dress up much. Normally all I wear are leggings and a tee, or a hoodie once it’s cold enough. It’s not like I’m swimming in dates or dinners where something like this would be necessary.
“I would think it’s rather obvious. You lost. So you’ll wear those today.” There’s something in his voice I don’t quite understand, but the more I try to analyze it, the farther it slips away from me.
“Are you fucking with me?” The words come out hot and sharp—much different than the way I intended to ask. The way I’ve thrown it at him, the question feels more like an accusation.
Amir doesn’t answer, at first. The silence stretches between us, becoming almost uncomfortable.
“Are you done?” he finally asks, his voice still just as calm and patient as ever.
I don’t answer. Anything I come up with feels like a child throwing a tantrum, and all I can do is stare down at the clothes.
“Yeah,” I breathe finally. “I’m done.”
“Good girl.”
I will never, ever, admit to the heat that jolts through me at those two words from him, and I find myself relieved that he can’t see me right now.
“Wear them. You have errands to run today, don’t you?”