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The Girl Who Would Be King(129)

By:Kelly Thompson


Moe stands in the doorway, a machine gun in one hand and a big white box in the other. “Uh, boss?” he asks carefully.

“What?!” I snap, dropping the shard of glass innocently beside me.

“Uh, we’re uh, all set up for your meeting,” he stammers.

“You lose the coin toss, Moe?” I ask, while putting Liz’s ear back on her chair. Moe looks like he almost throws up in his mouth at the whole nightmarish scene. I slap my hand over the neck wound still leaking blood.

“I uh, don’t know what you mean, boss,” he says nervously.

“You think I don’t know what you guys are saying about me? I’ve got freaking super-hearing, you moron. I hear EVERYTHING,” I shout, as blood seeps out of my neck and between my fingers.

“Uh sure, boss. We know, we-” he loses the sentence and I lose interest and cut him off with the wave of my hand. I’m about to scream at him to leave me alone when I realize he’s still holding a big white box tied up with a bright red ribbon. “What’s that?” I demand, pointing with my free hand. Moe offers it forward carefully, as if feeding a lion.

“Uh, we um…we didn’t know if you’d want this…”

“Who’s it from?” I snap, my patience fraying at all edges even as I reach for it.

“It’s from Liz, boss,” he says. I draw my hand back slowly.

“What do you mean?” I breathe.

“Miss Liz, she got this for you for your birthday coming up, but it just showed up today, we were going to wait ’til your birthday but we thought since, well, we thought you might want it now.” Seconds and minutes break off in my head like stones. I feel nothing – that’s a lie, I feel everything and it’s unbearable.

“You want I should leave it?” Moe asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Leave it and tell them I’ll be down in a minute.” I pick at the red ribbon for a minute looking between Liz’s ear and the box. Finally, I slide the ribbon off and lift the lid. Inside is a completely badass leather cat suit – just my size – and a note. I pull open the tiny envelope and take out the small, thick white card inside. I turn it over and read:

“L.

Get some taste.

L.”

I chuckle and look back at the suit. There’s something dripping onto it and I realize I’m crying.

I strip naked and consider the suit. It doesn’t look as comfortable as the other, but even I know it’s more impressive. It will also look great with my leather boots. I concentrate for a moment trying to heal my neck wound, which should only take a second, but the alcohol in my system must be slowing things down. Finally after a few minutes of intense concentration and an insane headache, I’m able to stop the bleeding. In the bathroom, I wash the blood off my body and pull the suit on. It fits perfectly and makes me feel like I have a part of Liz still with me. Well, other than her ear. It also makes me feel a bit more put together, but I almost don’t recognize myself in the mirror, so I smash the mirror to bits with my fists. I get little shards of glass buried in my hands and so I take another few minutes to heal my hands back up, pushing the glass shards out into the sink. I don’t bother to wash my hands a second time. Who do I really need to impress? My headache rages now, pounding onto the walls of my brain, not unlike how I just pounded on the mirror. Ironic. Or something.

When I come downstairs, they’re all a little grumbly and still whispering like I don’t have freaking super-hearing. They’re still especially freaked out about Liz and the whole ear situation, but several of them are impressed with the leather outfit. So, there’s that. Anyone who says women gossip more than men hasn’t met my damn henchmen.

“All right, shut up,” I say, raising my hands in the air. “I know you’re all itching for some real action, something beyond the small stuff we’ve been doing, so I hope you’re actually ready for it.” I snap my fingers and gesture to Jeeves who pulls out a map of downtown Los Angeles. I lean over and explain everything. The henchmen have never been more serious, which I appreciate.



°

When I return to my apartment, it’s late and I go through the fire escape, more out of habit than anything else. Liesel sees me from the hallway and runs to the window. I climb in awkwardly struggling with the bag and the small opening.

“Oh my god!” Liesel cries out. “Are you okay? I’ve been so worried!” I feel shameful; I’m a terrible friend, I should have called her to at least let her know I was okay. This whole having friends thing is still pretty new to me, I’m crappy at it I guess. “Did you lose your keys? Where have you been? Are you okay? Where’s Bryce?” Liesel’s questions tumble out so fast I can’t answer them. So I just answer the only one that matters.