Black Box
Page 6‘Mikki?’
‘What?’ she snaps at me as she slides her empty beer glass away so she can rest her head on top of her arms.
‘Where are you staying tonight?’
She heaves a deep sigh as she closes her eyes. ‘Don’t know. Right here seems just fine.’
Jimmy raises his eyebrows as he pretends to be busy popping the seeds out of the lemon wedges he just cut. I can’t help but watch her face with a bit of awe. Even with her black hair, her lip ring, and the tattoos on her fingers, she looks so sweet and innocent. I feel strangely protective of her, like I should tell Jimmy to buzz off. She can spend the night wherever she wants. Can’t you see she’s broken?
I can tell by the shiny bit of drool accumulating at the corner of her mouth that she’s already beginning to fall asleep. I take a risk and reach for her. Gently grasping her arm, I give it an easy shake. She doesn’t flinch this time.
She groans softly and her eyelids flutter open. ‘Sorry. I didn’t sleep last night.’
‘Maybe we should get you a room so you can get some rest.’
She pushes herself up from the bar and blinks a few times. ‘If you try anything I’ll kill you,’ she mutters, reaching for her purse. ‘And I don’t mean that figuratively. I will actually murder you. I have nothing to lose.’
‘Not if I kill you first.’
Chapter 9: MIKKI – 4 years ago
Rina lies back on my bed and holds up the piece of paper I just handed her. She reads the poem silently and I watch her; silent on the outside and screaming on the inside: She hates it. I take a couple of deep breaths to keep from hyperventilating. I’ve never shared my poems with anyone.
Finally, she smiles and lets the paper fall from her fingers and float down onto her chest. ‘Wow . . . Is that what your first kiss felt like? Cause mine was nowhere near as romantic as that.’
‘So . . . you liked it?’
She laughs as she sits up. ‘Are you kidding me? That was amazing. Do you have more?’
‘No,’ I reply quickly and she looks confused. ‘I mean, nothing that’s ready to be seen.’
‘That’s cool. So . . . the guy in that poem . . . was that . . . Brad?’
‘No.’ I snatch the paper off the bed. ‘He wasn’t my first kiss.’
‘No, he was your first asshole. There’ll be plenty more of those. At least, that’s what my mom says.’
Reaching into the back of the drawer, I retrieve an amber bottle of pills. I spill one of the green pills into the palm of my hand, then I grab the glass of water from the top of my nightstand and guzzle it down. Rina doesn’t stare at me while I do this. This is normal behavior to her. She’s seen me popping pills since the day we met on the first day of school six weeks ago. Her mom pops pills too, but for different reasons than I do.
‘Hey, I have an idea.’ Rina jumps off the bed and spins around to look me in the eye. ‘You should submit your poems to the newsletter committee.’
‘Hell no! I almost passed out just from showing them to you. I’d die of mortification if anyone else read them.’
‘But it’s so good! You can’t keep that to yourself. That’s not fair to the rest of the world.’
I shake my head as I grab my empty glass off the nightstand and head for the bedroom door. ‘No way. End of discussion.’ I open the door, opening my mouth to ask her if she wants anything to drink, then I see my mom at the top of the stairs.
‘Mikki, have you seen Rina? Her mom just called and said she doesn’t know where she is. She’s on her way here.’
‘Haven’t seen her,’ I blurt, then I slam the bedroom door shut. ‘Your mom’s on her way,’ I whisper frantically.
Just then, the doorbell rings and Rina grabs fistfuls of her long red hair. ‘Oh, shit! What do I do?’
Rina’s not supposed to be at my house. She’s grounded until next month for cutting class three days last week, but this didn’t stop her from coming to my house after school.
‘Climb out the window,’ I suggest and her eyes widen as she moves toward the window behind her. ‘No! I’m just kidding! It’s too far down.’
‘Not with the patio cover.’ She yanks the window open and smiles as she looks back at me over her shoulder. ‘Hey, I’ve got an idea. Put the poems you write here on the windowsill and I’ll come by and get them whenever my mom lets me out of jail. You can pretend you’re sending them to a fancy magazine or newspaper; something really important. But it will just be me reading them.’
I can hear footsteps stomping up the staircase outside the bedroom. ‘Fine, fine! Just go!’
She grins as she carefully lowers herself onto the wooden lattice patio cover in the backyard. She skitters across the cover and deftly lets herself down onto the block fence surrounding the property. From there, she jumps down into the neighbors’ yard and gives me a thumbs-up as she races toward the back of their property. Then she disappears through the wooden gate into the alley behind the house.
Chapter 10: MIKKI – January 3rd
By the time Crush settles the bar tab, and we stuff our suitcases and his guitar case into the trunk of a cab, I’m starting to sober up a little. Both the meth and the alcohol are wearing off, leaving behind a warm rush of anxiety that leaves me emotionally conflicted. Part of me wants to tell him I can’t get a hotel room with him. He’s practically a stranger. Another part of me wants to lay my head in his lap and fall asleep. I guess I’ll settle for lying in my own bed in the hotel room.
‘Park Plaza,’ Crush says to the cab driver, and I laugh out loud as I lean my head against the window.
‘Park Plaza? That’s a bit fancy, don’t you think?’
‘It’s one of the few hotels in Boston with a two-bedroom suite. Unless you want to sleep in the same room as me. I’d be happy to get us a twin-size bed to share in a hostel, if that’s what you prefer.’
He’s quiet for a moment, then he clears his throat before he responds. ‘My dad is the CEO of a large investment trust and they used to own a large stake in the Park Plaza.’
I pull my head away from the window and sit up straight as I turn to him. He’s gazing out the passenger window, probably trying to avoid seeing my reaction to this.
‘Define large.’
‘Billions.’
‘So . . . you’re rich is what you’re trying to tell me?’
He sighs as he turns to face me. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘Honestly, it’s a little intimidating . . . Okay, more than a little intimidating. But I guess it explains why you look like that, but you talk like Harvard.’
‘Talk like Harvard? Is that an insult?’
‘No way. It’s cute,’ I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He tilts his head and smiles. ‘Cute?’
I shake my head and look out my window. ‘I mean, it’s cool. It’s just, I go to community college. I’m used to talking to assholes who can’t form a complete sentence to ask a girl out on a date.’
‘Finally, my expensive education will be put to good use.’
I get a weird urge to blurt out I love you. I get urges to blurt out inappropriate stuff all the time, but that’s the first time I’ve ever gotten that particular urge. I should probably take my meds if I’m going to be hanging around someone normal. Of course, how normal can he be with the name Crush?
‘Are you ever going to tell me why you changed your name to Crush?’
‘Are you ever going to tell me why you don’t want to go home?’
The cab pulls up in front of the Boston Park Plaza and Crush slips the driver a wad of cash that makes the cab driver spit out incoherent mumblings of gratitude. The driver rushes out of the cab to help with the bags in the trunk and I follow right after him. But Crush is already there and the luggage is standing on the snow-covered pavement in front of the hotel. A bellman races out from under the black awning covering the sidewalk in front of the hotel entrance. Crush tells him to take my bag and I follow them into the hotel, trying not to smile as Crush holds the door open for me even though he’s the one carrying his guitar case and dragging his luggage.
My mouth drops when we enter the lobby. An enormous crystal chandelier hangs from the high ceiling in a space the size of four huge lecture halls. Large, square pillars line the right and left side of an open carpeted space beneath the chandelier. Beyond the pillars on the right is the reception desk. Through the spaces between the pillars on the left, I glimpse what could be a fancy lounge area. This place screams historic opulence. I’ll bet this was a great place to stay about eighty years ago.
Crush is approaching the check-in counter and I hurry up to join him. I can’t help but feel curious about him now. I want to see how the people here treat him.
Crush nods and I swear there’s some form of silent agreement going on between these two. ‘Good afternoon, Greta. Is the Garden Suite available?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Her gaze falls onto her computer screen as her fingers move like lightning across her keyboard. ‘How many nights will you be staying with us? We have another guest booked in the Garden Suite on Thursday.’
‘Three nights?’ Crush replies, taking a beat to consider this timeframe. ‘That should be enough. We’re just waiting for our flights to be rescheduled. The airline should be getting us on another flight in a day or two.’
Greta raises her wispy, blond eyebrows. ‘You got here just in time. We were told to expect an influx of guests tonight. They’re saying the storm will have all flights grounded for at least two days. Do you want to book another room for Thursday, just in case? Or do you want to wait?’
Crush turns to me and I try not to let him see the panic building inside me. I can’t stay in Boston that long. Someone will find me. Even if I’m holed up in a hotel room booked under the name Crush. I’m sure someone working in this hotel will eventually see something on the news or somewhere with my missing person photo.
‘Do you want to book another room, so we don’t have any problems booking later on once the hotel is rushed with travelers?’
I glance at Greta and she flashes me a guarded smile. I wonder if she knows Crush’s real name. I wonder if he’s brought other girls here before.
My shoulders slump as I resign myself to my fate. ‘Book another room. I can’t leave the hotel anyway, so that’s probably best.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t leave the hotel?’
‘I mean we can’t leave the hotel. Just look at that snow!’ I point at the hotel entrance, my heart racing as I hope he doesn’t question this slip of the tongue later.
‘Okay,’ he says with a smile. He knows I’m bullshitting. ‘We’ll book another room for Thursday and Friday night, just to be safe.’
‘We don’t have any two-bedroom suites available, but we do have a junior suite. It has one bedroom and a sofa bed.’
Crush looks to me again and I nod so I don’t say anything stupid. ‘Book it,’ he says to Greta.
Once the rooms are booked and Greta hands Crush the card keys, I turn around and find my suitcase is gone. ‘Oh, shit! Where’s my suitcase?’
‘Over there,’ Crush chuckles as he points at a brass luggage trolley on the other side of the lobby.
‘I totally knew that. I was just trying to scare you.’