Whitney

I went back down to the lobby with my bags in hand. “What do you say we close up and I’ll take us out for an early dinner?”

The phone began to ring. I shook my head. “No, don’t answer it. The answer hasn’t changed. We’re still not open and we’re on vacation. Businesses don’t answer the phone when they’re closed for vacation, and we’re not going to start.”

She nodded, her hand poised over the handle. “Okay, if you say so.” She pulled her hand back and grabbed her purse. They checked the front lock and headed out the back. Their caller hung up.

***

Kat and I pulled an all-nighter, but not in the usual sense. She talked me out of going to dinner on the way home, saying she was tired and could we just order in pizza and watch movies on television. That was fine with me. It put me in mind of my years in the dorm. It felt comfortable.

As a result, we began to talk, and soon we were exchanging inner thoughts just like dorm mates. The more we talked, the more we wanted to talk.

“I don’t understand why Dagger hasn’t contacted one or both of us,” I reiterated for the third time. We were, by the way, drinking wine directly from the bottle by that point. It may have been that I was repeating myself. The pizza was long gone, nothing left but a thrice-folded piece of cardboard jammed into Kat’s kitchen trash can.

“I know, I know,” she nodded, swinging her bottle up for another swig. It’s not like him.”

“Doesn’t he realize we can’t run the business without him? I mean, who’s going to train the guys? If he doesn’t come back soon, we’ll go out of business.”

“Aww… he don’t care,” Kat summarized, her grammar having steadily decreased as her wine consumption increased.

“Why not?”

“Hell, Whit, he’s Dagger. The golden boy. He’s already got more money than Bill Gates and everything he touches turns to gold.”

I gave this some thought and wondered if I’d made too big a deal about the house. Had he thought I was more interested in his money than him? I hoped not.

I gave an unladylike burp. “This isn’t working. I’m going to California. Tomorrow morning. If he shows up and misses me, give me a call and I’ll come back. I’ll just call it a va-va-vacation for now,” I managed to vocalize.

Kat was looking at me oddly. “Wait. It’s too hard to undershtand you. You mean you’re gonna leave—after all we talked about?”

“Yup.” I nodded for clarification because the word yup and the burps popping from my wine-filled tummy were pretty similar in sound.

“Well, it’s up to you, but I think you’re makin’ a big mishtake,” she told me, another slurp sealing her opinion.

“I’m leaving in the morning. Haven’t even unpacked yet, and I’ll sleep in my clothes,” I added.

Kat sat there, a look of pity on her face as she shook her head. “Big mishtake,” she repeated.

“I think I’ll sleep right here, then I won’t even mess up your bed.”

Kat shrugged. “Have it your way, but I think I need the bed,” she said, stumbling her way out of the living room.

I leaned over onto a pillow, and a couple of tears later, I fell asleep.

***

I awakened to find myself in a strange apartment with a huge head full of hangover. I felt sick and went for a glass of water. It all came back to me. The all-night pajama party with Kat, the wine, the declarations of independence from me. All that would pass, but there was still one thing that wouldn’t change.

Dagger had left me.

I needed to breathe and find myself again. This city, the turmoil at the studio, Dagger’s disappearance and my sister’s alienation were too much. I wanted a break from it all, and the last thing I remembered from the previous night was saying that I was leaving. I would do it. I would call a cab, head for the airport and get on the first plane to California. It didn’t matter where—it was all a psychological goal, anyway. I could choose Florida just as easily, but wouldn’t. I had a yen for California.

I showered and managed to swallow a cup of coffee. I opened Kat’s door and whispered good-bye, telling her that if by any chance Dagger showed up and wanted to talk to me, he could call my cell number. She started to put up an argument, thought better of it, and turned over to go back to sleep. My bags were still packed, so I called a cab and went out on the stoop of Kat’s apartment building to wait.

I was feeling sorry for myself. Tears were slowly collecting on my cheeks until there was enough liquid to actually drop off my chin. I couldn’t even seem to put together a decent damn tear!

I saw a cab pulling up and stood, collecting my luggage and dragging it down the sidewalk. The cabbie got out and opened the trunk, dropping my bags inside. Just then a second cab pulled up, and I was about to wave him off when the back door sprang open and a man stepped out.

“Whitney!” he called to me.

“Dagger?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I looked at him, a sight for which I would have given my right arm over the previous few weeks. He was standing firmly, but he wore a sling over one bandaged arm and there were scabbed cuts on his face. His hair was tousled and he needed a shave.

“I’m going to California.”

“The fuck you are!”

The cabbies stood back, but neither left. They weren’t sure if the man was about to beat me in anger or collapse on the sidewalk from whatever had placed him in that condition.

Dagger took one look and turned to toss a hundred-dollar bill at his driver. He moved toward me, bent, and slung me over his unbandaged shoulder. I couldn’t see his face, but I had a feeling it still hurt. He unceremoniously dumped me into the back seat of my own waiting cab, climbed in next to me and pounded once on the roof with the flat of his hand. “Driver, change of destination,” he said, and gave him the address of our newly acquired house on the lake.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Actually, aren’t you supposed to be at work right now? And where is Kat? Sleeping one off by the looks of you.”

“How dare you! You disappear on us without a word and don’t ever check in. We worried and then we got pissed and then we worried again. We couldn’t keep the studio open because there was no one to teach the men and there would be too many questions. So we told everyone the studio was closing for vacation, and last night Kat invited me to stay with her because I’ve been scared staying in that big building all by myself. I came here with her and we stayed up all night drinking wine and eating pizza and calling you every name in the book. Now I’m going to California because I need a change of scenery and something other than worry and self-pity on my brain.” I stopped to take a breath.

“I get it,” he said succinctly. “Why were you scared staying at the studio?”

“Why the hell do you think? My sister, who, it incidentally turns out, is no blood to me but only my adopted sister, has become alienated and cut off contact. Then you’ve got that damned Malchevsky vendetta hanging over my head.”

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“And why not?”

“It seems he had an accident with a knife.”

“Dagger!”

“There was a witness.”

“Who?”

“Tiffany. She saw it all—he came at me and I had to defend myself.”

“You mean he’s dead?” I stuttered.

“Very.”

“Tiff. Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s spent the last week pretending to be my fiancée. I hit my head in the fight and temporarily lost part of my memory. I couldn’t remember her, you, or anything to do with the studio until just yesterday. When I remembered you and the studio, I tried to call but there was no answer.”

I remembered the call I’d told Kat not to answer, but I wasn’t going to give him any weapons against me.

“So where have you been, and what’s going on, and are you okay? You look like hell.”

“I can’t tell you everything, but not because it has anything to do with you. I just can’t talk about it. Your sister hadn’t gotten to the hospital yet when I left. She’s probably looking for me. And me? I’m banged up but improving, and I’ll be even better once I rest up at our new house.”

“I don’t believe Tiff would have done that, Dag. She would have never hurt me like that.”

“Call her. Tell her you’ve thrown me over and see what she says. Don’t tell her you’re sitting next to me.”

I looked him in the eyes and pulled out my phone, tapping Tiff’s name.

“Hello?” she answered.

I almost choked on my spit. I hadn’t expected her to answer so quickly, and I didn’t have my thoughts together. “Tiff? I haven’t heard from you. I’ve been worried!”

There was a pause on her end. “I’ve been busy.”

“Tiff, tell me it isn’t true. I just got a call from Dagger and he broke it off with me. Said he’d changed his mind because I’m too much of a creampuff and he wants someone with more backbone in his life. Tiff, he said he’s been spending time with you!”

Another pause. “Well, it’s true, Whit. I’m sorry for you. I thought he was planning to tell you after we’re married. I’ve been… ah… holed up in a room with him the last week, and we discussed it again just yesterday before I went home for a bit. That mansion of yours? Not going to happen. He said he could tell immediately you’d never be happy in a place like that. He said he was breaking up with you and invited me to live with him. We’ll plan our wedding. Do you want to be invited? I know it’s a sensitive issue for you.”

I tapped the line, and my sister, dead.

“Cabbie, put your pedal to the metal, will you?”

 

~The End for now~