The Girl Who Would Be King(119)

“Uh, nowhere. Just out, gonna run some errands. You know, the usual, maybe pick up something to eat, you want anything?” I ask, trying to cover my tracks. The ear doesn’t answer. “Okay then, see you later,” I say gamely, waving and walking to the stairs with a considered casual air. Knuckles is still facing the wall. I walk past him without acknowledging him and head to the back parking lot. When I get there my bike is nowhere to be found. I spin around on the nearest guard. “Where’s my bike!?” I scream. The guy’s eyes are like plates.

“Your bike, boss?”

“Yes, my freaking motorcycle!”

“You uh – you never uh, had a motorcycle here, boss,” he says, stepping sideways away from me as if he’s going to make a run for it. I pin him against the building by his neck.

“Of course, I did. I’ve had that bike since I was 12!” I scream. His eyes are rolling back in his head and his tongue is lolling out. I don’t know what he’s trying to say but whatever it is he’s wrong. And then I remember that I never did get my bike after I left LACMA. I had forgotten all about it once I got the stone. I slap my hand to my forehead and laugh. “Sorry. My bad,” I say, dropping him to the ground. He gurgles and spits. A couple other henchmen look on in horror. I smile at them and take off into the sky. My flip-flops fall off almost immediately. Once in the sky, I take out one of the phonebook pages and flatten out the crinkles as best I can. The closest address is for a ‘Stern, Oscar, PhD.



Dr. Stern’s office is in a new strip-mall and there’s only a few other spaces rented out. A Starbucks at the opposite end, a clothing store of some kind in the middle, and a copy and ship place next to the Starbucks. There are only six cars in the entire parking lot, including one in front of Stern’s office. I set down in the alley behind the strip mall and adjust my cat suit before pushing through the door and into the air-conditioned space. A little bell chimes when I come in and a voice calls out somewhere from the back. “Hello? One minute please-” it says. There’s the shuffle of papers, the clicking sound of a filing cabinet closing. and a middle-aged, slightly soft looking gentleman in a white button-down shirt emerges from the back. I can see confusion in his face, but he covers. “Well, hello. I’m Dr. Stern. Is there, something I can do for you?” he reaches his hand out and I shake it, uninterested.

“Lola,” I say, distracted. I’m too busy looking at his ears to pay attention to much else.

“Lola. Okay, what can I do for you?” he asks, standing awkwardly in his own reception area. I gesture to his office and he nods. “Of course, of course, have a seat,” he says, motioning me into his office. “I have to warn you,” he begins, following me inside, but leaving the door open. “It’s after my regular office hours, I must have forgotten to lock the front door,” he adds, looking back at it good-naturedly. “But, what can I do for you, would you like me to schedule an appointment for you at some other time?”

“No,” I say. “Now’s fine.”

“Well, I’m sorry Lola, but I’m not really open now-”

“It’s alright. I just need your ear,” I say, staring at his right ear like it’s on the menu.

“Excuse me?” he says, standing up from his chair. “I think maybe you should go. If you’d like to come back during my regular office hours, we can talk then.”

“And I need your ear,” I say. He walks past me towards the door.

“I don’t even know what that means, but it’s time for you to go,” he says, getting nervous. As he passes my chair I jump onto his back. He screams. I grab his right ear and yank it off. He falls to the ground in a lump. It’s so quick even I can’t believe it. He’s not actually dead, just passed out, though if he doesn’t wake up soon he’s going to die from blood loss. I take a tissue from the box on his desk and clean off the ear. I put it in the little breast pocket inside the cat suit and walk out the door. There’s still only six cars in the parking lot and nothing has changed and the whole thing took less than five minutes. That fish in barrels thing really is a saying for a reason, I guess.

Back at the loft the new ear won’t talk to me and Liz’s ear laughs at me for thinking I can do better than it.

I leave Mr. Stern’s ear in an old pizza box after unsuccessfully ranting at it for twenty minutes with no response.



°

I wait across the street from Clark’s apartment for over an hour just watching the dark windows. He’s not there. It’s so late, nearly two in the morning, and so my mind races. Wondering where he could be. Pangs of jealousy and insecurity assail me. When I finally see him come up the street, my heart skips a beat for sure and I step back into the shadows around me and lean against the stone of a building as if it alone can keep me upright. Is it possible I’ve already forgotten a little bit how handsome he is, how much I love him, how much he once looked like he was wearing my future, like in looking at him was the only way I could even imagine a future worth having? He jogs up the stairs, a book under his arm and a late night coffee in his hand. He disappears into the building. I watch the windows from the street and feel both comforted and tortured watching his routine, everything the same, except no me. He opens the window near the kitchen since it catches the best breeze. He washes his hands in the kitchen sink, drying them on a green towel that hangs on the stove.