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FORTY-TWO

NATALIE

I’m exhausted, but more than that, I’m mad.

I put Trixy back in the cage, turn, and study everything in my apartment with scrupulous attention. This place is a mess, and I can’t tell if someone has searched it, but I have no doubt about it. My treasure box didn’t just grow legs or wings and transport itself onto the bureau. It hasn’t been moved in months, ever since the cage door lock broke.

Then I catch sight of the envelope on the floor. Whoever left it might be the same person who let themselves in. The person who walked past me? Someone who used the fire exit door?

I rip the envelope open. Inside is a note and a smaller envelope, signed, “for Rosenberg.”

The note is a stained piece of printer paper.

Wait for my call.

DO NOT open the small envelope—it’s NOT for you.

I swear, I’ll kill that guy!

My phone rings. Unknown number. I pick up.

“How dare you break into my place, you asshole?” I snap. “I’m going to call the police?—”

“Chill out! Christ! It wasn’t me! Calm down!”

“Yeah, okay. And the envelope wasn’t you either?”

“It was. I slipped it in under the door. Someone was in your apartment earlier, though.”

“How would you know? If that was you?—”

“I said, relax! I came to leave a message, and someone was opening your apartment door. I figured a friend of yours, so I waited at the fire stairs. Except the weather is too warm for a hoodie, so the person looked off. Limping, too.”

I swallow hard. “None of my friends have keys to my apartment.” I instantly think of the person I ran into on my way into the building.

“They sure had a key.” A nasty chuckle follows. “Told you. Watch your back. You are already on a hit list.”

“Don’t try to?—”

“I’m joking! Christ! But you are being watched. I just know it.”

“Yeah, because you are a stalker.” I walk to the window and, just in case, shut the blinds.

“Yeah, good call on the blinds.”

“Are you kidding me?” I hiss. He is watching me. “I thought you didn’t want to call my phone.”

“Good girl. So, you remembered. I’m calling from a random convenience store. Your calls might already be tracked. My phone’s location is not. Next time you get in touch, do not call me from your phone.”

“I didn’t say I’d ever get in touch.”

“Yeah, okay, we’ll see. So, about the envelope. No one, I repeat, no one can see that envelope besides Rosenberg. No one can see you give it to him. In fact, it’d be better for you if he didn’t see you with that envelope either.”

“Well, that ship has sailed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’m quitting.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Oh, yeah? You gonna tell me what to do?” I wish he were here so I could punch him in the nose. I’m done with men who boss me around.

“I need you to go back.”

“I bet you do. What’s in the envelope?”

“Some info for Rosenberg’s eyes only.”

“And how am I supposed to give it to him without giving it to him?” I mock.

“Figure out how. If he gets the envelope, I can guarantee a payday for us. If you get caught with that thing, you are in trouble. So, don’t get caught.”

I don’t care about the money. I’m not into extortion, or whatever this is. Clearly, this dude is walking a fine line.

“I want something else in return,” I say, mulling over the options.

“What’s that?”

“I need whatever dirt you have on Rosenberg.”

His response is a loud cackle. “Sweetheart, when I’m done with him, that info won’t be any good to you.”

“You don’t know that. It’s not for me anyway.”

“Ah-ah. Don’t get carried away. You are not smart enough to play with the big fish.”

I have a strong urge to poke his eyes out right now. “I need that info. You can keep your money.”

“Hmm.” I know he’s trying to figure out what my angle here is. “Whatever game you are playing, have at it. But only when I get my pay.”

“Deal.”

“Call me tomorrow when you get it done.”

Just like that, he hangs up.

If there’s a way to implicate Rosenberg, if all else fails, this stalker guy probably knows how to do it.

And just like that, I don’t think I have an option—I have to go back to The Splendors.