A message from Cat came through with a link.
I opened up messages, catching the headline first as my finger hovered. ‘West Village Museum Broken Into, Priceless PERL Stolen,’ it read.
Cat, on her end, shook the screen, as if hopping up and down.
Why did she look so happy?
“You made it, Sybbie, girl!” She let out yet another unwelcome shriek. “You are officiallyinfamous.”I’d never seen this woman of sixty-seven possess this much energy, not in years.
My gut reacted, lurching with a sharp pang of too much sparkling wine attempting to make a comeback, all over theiPad.
I looked at who published the article; maybe it was a joke? ‘The New York Times’,shit.That wasn’t a joke.
The New York Freakin’ Times?This felt heavy. The weight was dropping too fast for me to stop it.
Cat caught on. “Sybbie,breathe.”
I heard the clicking of Bill’s nails on the kitchen floor as he ran toward me, sensing the episode of anxiety that was ramming into me like a bus. He nudged the back of my knees, telling me to sit.
I plopped down with a distinct lack of ceremony, facing the center island and leaning my forehead against it. This wasn’t happening.
“Sybbie,” I heard Cat say in a softer, calmer voice. “This is a good thing, honey. This frightens you, but it’s so significant. I hope you pause, feel it, permit this. Remember that anxiety feels a lot like excitement, too. Not all anxiety is scary. Some anxiety happens during wonderful moments as well.”
Vomitingwas going to happen, that’s what.
I was shaking. “What does this mean for the show tomorrow?” I wheezed out, hoping she could hear me from down here on the floor.
“It’s perfect timing. In a perfect world, Sybil, this would be an artist’s dream. I know this is a lot, but I believe this is another great opportunity for healing,” she urged.
I didnotwant to do this.
My brain was coming up with escape plans. “What if I sat this one out, monitored from a distance?”
“No, we can’t do that,” Cat urged. “If we do that, we’llbackslide. Just remember that you’re anonymous. You’re just another part of the show, hired to be there. I don’t care if you do nothing but stand in the corner and blend in with the wall, but you have to be there and ride this out.”
She was right. I didn’t want to backslide again.
Rubbing my eyes, I pulled my forehead away from the island. I exhaled, holding onto Cat’s words, repeating them in my mind. No one knew who I was; I could blend in with the wall behind the deli counter.
That was safe.
I could do this.
“Okay, Cat,” I conceded.
“Great,”she replied. “Now, how about you get some rest while I look into this heist situation? Let me take care of gathering more details, and I’ll report back. Just remember this is exciting.Beexcited, Sybbie! You are amazing. All that we’ve built together, you’ve surpassed anything your parents ever did. You are becoming your own little force of nature—a little storm cloud to be reckoned with. Now sleep and relax. Focus on what it’ll take for you to make a friend instead. The heist doesn’t affect us other than the added excitement surrounding it.”
I huffed at that. This had affected me plenty.
“I’ll check in a little later, okay?” she finished, leaving a gap of silence in which I had no energy to reply.
I heard the video call hang up.
Falling back on the floor with a thump and spreading out, Bill curled up against my middle, wiggling and pawing at me until I laid a hand on his belly. He let outa series of happy yips, teeth snapping together and sneezing for added effect.
He could sense my cooling emotions and was feeling his own sense of relief.
I opened my eyes and looked at the ceiling, seeing Mr. Beans now perched on the edge of the counter near my feet, looking down on me with unamused half-hooded eyes. He was still working the pizza grease from his whiskers with his tongue.
