Zeke has no rebuttal for that, and it sobers all of us, putting a damper on the desire and obsession that drove us to come running like fucking stalkers. Aurelia’s right. We are creeps, but at least once upon a time, we were her creeps.
We sit for an hour more before we feel the tether leashing us to her slacken enough that we’re able to drive away, but it’s not long before it’s pulling taut again and we find ourselves back on that street night after night.
We return for Chinese food many times. In fact, we can’t seem to get enough of the addicting cuisine.
AURELIA
Aweek after my interview with Avery Shaw, I’m being ushered through a familiar heavy set of marble doors on one of the high floors of a downtown office building. It’s the end of the day, and I know the suited man sitting behind a gargantuan glass desk is moments away from leaving to visit the condo of whichever one of his kept women was his favorite this week.
He barely looks up or acknowledges my presence as I enter the spacious office.
My heels sink into the plush carpet as I cross the room and reluctantly take a seat in one of the stylish chairs that I know will be a killer on my back by the time this unpleasant meeting is over.
“I have to admit,” Uncle Mars drones as he signs his signature on the top sheet of a stack of papers before slamming the folder shut, “I’m surprised you requested this meeting, but it’s good to see you, Aurelia.”
“Oh, I wish I could say the same, Uncle, but that’s nice to hear.” While I’m way past feeling simple resentment for the man, I know showing how deeply I want my uncle dead will only make the dream that much harder to obtain. I also know that playing the part of an adoring niece will be just as damaging to my cause, so I settle right in between burning hatred and familial love.
“If that is the case, then why are you here?”
“Because I need your help. Things aren’t going the way I thought they would. They’re worse than ever, and this new team…” I purposely let my voice trail off to assess just how muchhe knows. Oni being my manager was not widely known yet but easily confirmed for anyone who dug hard enough.
“Oh, you meanOni, right?” My uncle smiles like he just slammed down the Draw Four card in an Uno match. “Yeah, she’s aight, but she’s no me.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes as Uncle Mars sits back in his high-backed wing chair. “So what is it you want, Aurelia?” he cuts to the point when I don’t take the opportunity to inflate his ego.
It’s obvious deception and a trap. I can’t appear too friendly or he’ll see right through it.
“I want to put the past behind us. I want to be a team again.”
“And what makes you think I want that? I wasn’t kidding when I said I could make a hundred of you, Aurelia.”
“Then why haven’t you? You’ve been trying for months, and yet you haven’t scratched the surface with any of them.”
“Okay, Aurelia. You’ve convinced me.” I’m careful to hide my surprise and suspicion over how easy it was as he continues speaking. “I’ll be your manager again and save your ungrateful behind, but under one condition.” He holds up a finger.
“What’s your condition?”
“That.” Uncle Mars’s gaze drops to my belly, and the disdain there has me wanting to cradle it, but I know I can’t, so I sit frozen in the chair even though I want to run for the door. “I know you’re pregnant, Aurelia. You’ve done an okay job trying to hide it, but not well enough. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re knocked up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“For how long?” he tosses back.
I’m startled by the question. “What?”
“How much longer can you pretend not to know what I’m talking about? Another week? A month? You’re well into your second trimester. It will be impossible for you to hide it soon. You’re barely concealing it now. It’s a good thing you werealready on the heavier side or else everyone would know as soon as they looked at you.”
Suddenly, I am picturing my uncle with his head tipped back, an arrow in his eye, and the wall behind him splattered with his blood.
“Okay, even if I was pregnant—which I’m not—what does being my manager again have to do with my baby?”
“I want you to get rid of it,” he demands with a curl of his lip.
I flinch as if he just slapped me. “Excuse me?”
“I need you focused on the music, and that baby will be nothing but a distraction. It’s obviously too late for an abortion, but adoption is still an option. Privately and anonymously, of course.”
I feel sick.
I feel violent.
