Page 44

“Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.”

- Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Present Day

It wasn’t that Oz’s apartment was uncomfortable, it was more like it wasn’t really there at all. She’d seen model homes that looked more lived in. The entire space was so… empty.

Everything was glossy white plastic and steel. It was like an Apple iPhone had thrown up everywhere.

Mull had no experience with such an empty and vaguely uncomfortable space.

It wasn’t that it made her uncomfortable, it reminded her of Oz so that would have been impossible, just that it was the space’s primary feeling.

It was like the apartment itself was telling you that it was uncomfortable, asking for your help. Begging for it.

This apartment was like walking through Oz’s mind. It was pristine and weird and looked expensive. You knew instantly that it was someplace you weren’t supposed to be. There were doormen and locks and rigid social structures which kept someone like Mull out of somewhere like this.

Mull… kinda liked it.

It was weird and like walking through an alien landscape, but she liked it all the same.

Sadly, the man himself had gone to check in on Wyatt an hour ago, which meant that Mull was currently in the apartment with what she definitely considered her B-team of bodyguards and undoubtedly soon-to-be-kidnapped friends.

Holly watched Mull suspiciously, like she wasn’t entirely sure who she even was .

“Why are you staring at me?” Mull finally asked, trying not to roll her eyes.

“I just realize that I know nothing about you.”

“You never know anything about me.” Mull reminded her. “Fuck, I don’t know anything about me. That’s kinda the nature of my powers. ‘Me’ changes every day.”

“Coke or Pepsi?” Holly demanded, quizzing her.

“Black Pony Scotch.”

“Han or Luke?”

“Vader.” Mull made a face. “But not the prick-y Hayden version.”

“Blaine or Duckie?”

“James Spader.”

“Fuck yeah!” Holly nodded in agreement, obviously pleased that someone else understood the intricacies of Pretty in Pink . “Now I remember why I like you.”

“How could anyone forget why they liked me? ” She was mystified by the mere idea. “I’m amazing. I’m like the fucking messiah of cool bitches and awesome shit. Little girls everywhere should be cosplaying as me while attending ‘Cool Bitch Con’ each year.”

“You are the only person I know who’s ever had a swordfight while snowboarding.

” Holly admitted, beginning to casually flip through a mail-order catalog of mysterious European antiseptics, which Oz had laminated for some reason, undoubtedly to keep away horrible germs he claimed covered everything.

“…In Florida.” Mull added, pleased with the way that whole job had worked out.

“Although, I still don’t understand why you’re here.

” Holly thought aloud. “I mean, I get that some people are trying to kill you, so you’re lying low and all, but why Oz ?

” She sounded mystified. “Why not stay at someone else’s place?

Hell, you could come stay with my family.

We’re much stronger than Oz ,” Holly said the name with bewilderment bordering on distaste, “and we’re not so weird. ”

“Because I don’t trust them.” Mull said flatly.

“Ouch.” Holly took on a feigned insulted tone. “That hurts, Mull.”

“I trust Oz.” Mull continued. “I am absolutely sure of who Oz is. And I am equally sure that he will do whatever he has to do to keep me safe.”

“Do you need him to keep you safe?”

“Hell, no.” Mull snorted at the idea. “But I like it, all the same. And it keeps him in my sight at all times.” She was silent for a moment, a million nightmarish images whirling through her head. “Do you have any idea what Ronnie would do to Oz if he got his hands on him?”

“I think Oz could hold his own.” Holly announced after a moment.

“It’s always the quiet ones that are the most evil, you ever notice that?

” She turned the page in her book. “Oz is unstable. I mean, I know you like him for some strange reason, but he’s got this sheen of twitchy, awkward…

niceness which is perpetually on the verge of falling away.

The guy is always like ten seconds away from going completely nuts.

Even just standing there, he’s… unsettling. ”

Mull nodded. “I find that so compelling.”

“Yeah.” Holly pursed her lips. “I kinda do too. Huh. Well, the point remains the same. He’s… damaged.”

“Name me one person we know who isn’t.”

Holly’s eyes cut to Lexie, who was giggling like a schoolgirl over something one of the cartoon pandas on the laptop screen was saying.

“Lexie doesn’t count.” Mull flipped her hand dismissively. “I don’t think she’s even human. She’s like Amy, she comes from the distant and alien planet called ‘Nice.’”

“Amy is my favorite Disney princess.” Holly agreed. “But I’d want her doll to have a sparkly-ier dress, obviously.”

Mull calmly continued to survey her surroundings. She’d arrived last night and had fallen right to sleep. Oz had insisted that she take the apartment’s lone bedroom, so she didn’t really get a chance to look around until the morning.

Now, she was standing in the middle of the most Oz-ian space she’d ever seen, holding onto one of his bed pillows.

She’d accidentally drooled on it in her sleep and now she was in search of a washing machine, because she didn’t want to watch the man’s horror at seeing that she’d despoiled something so clean and ironed.

Sadly, she’d yet to find one in the apartment or the hall outside. She was guessing that Oz simply bought new things rather than washing things once they’d been used. Which was so incredibly wasteful and crazy that as soon as she thought up that idea, she knew it had to be true.

There were only two things on the walls of the entire apartment: a poster of a mid-century advertisement for coffee, and a movie poster of The Lone Ranger on horseback, speeding after a runaway train. On the caboose, a damsel was reaching out for the masked hero, pleading for rescue.

“Oz doesn’t even drink coffee.” Mull thought aloud, looking at the smiling ginger-haired woman in the ad in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

Holly looked up from her magazine. “You know what he drinks?”

“Everyone knows.” Mull shrugged. “The man drinks hot water. No flavoring, just plain water. That’s so insane the entire world would take notice of it.” She shook her head in amazement. “Just thinking about it… hot water!?! What the actual fuck!?! ”

Holly tossed the magazine away and pulled a book out of her bag. “That’s nuts, yeah.”

Mull watched the magazine pinwheel through the air and almost let out a gasp, afraid that the magazine would break something Oz loved.

But then she remembered that you could play a round of fucking Rollerball in here, complete with the motorbikes, and not hit anything.

Still, Oz would freak out about the magazine on the floor, and he was already upset enough.

She hurried over to pick it up and return it to its overly complicated storage container, before Oz saw it.

Holly silently watched her for a moment, looking disgusted. “Is this who you are now? Someone who cleans her man’s apartment while he’s away?”

“I don’t think it’d be possible for a steam cleaning service to make this apartment any more spotless than it already is, Holl, the man literally vacuums four times a day . I’m just trying to be a good houseguest.” Mull defended. “And… and he’s not ‘my man.’”

“He’s chasing after you like he’s Cookie Monster and you’ve got chocolate chips in your panties.” Holly arched an eyebrow. “That makes him your man, assuming you want him.”

“Oh, he is not!” Mull rolled her eyes. “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

Holly made a disappointed sound. “How boring.”

Mull turned in a circle again. “Where does he keep his stuff?” She gestured to their surroundings.

“You know? Like his supply of shirts that don’t quite fit right and his broken DVD players that he might need one day for some reason.

” She spun in a circle again, looking for hidden closets or shelves. “His stuff ?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have any.”

“That’s so sad.” She considered that for a moment. “We should buy him some.”

Holly looked up at her in amazement. “You want to buy junk to put in his closet while he’s gone?”

“I’m not saying that. I don’t think ‘things’ equal happiness, just that people usually have them anyway.”

Holly snorted at that idea. "Sweetie, if things don't make you happy, you're buying the wrong things."

Mull pointed at the end table. “The man has a rotary phone.” She gestured to it more emphatically, just in case Holly had overlooked its presence in the room. “How is that still a thing? Why is that a thing!?! They don’t even make those anymore! I don’t think they even work anymore!”

Holly opened her mouth to reply to that, but then paused, looking confused and uncertain about the object.

“He’s got like a dozen different kinds of lettuce in his refrigerator.” Mull gestured to the kitchen, continuing to list all of the many reasons why Oz was crazy. “What the hell is up with that?”

Holly frowned in confusion. “How many kinds of lettuce does one man need?”

“I know!” Mull spread her arms wide. “They all taste the same! Like lettuce! ” She gestured to the apartment’s only other room. “And he’s got a whole little area over there filled with nothing but wrapped presents!”

That got Holly’s attention. She vaulted over the modern-looking couch and ran for the gifts in question, reappearing with several of them.

Mull opened her mouth to object, but Holly had already ripped the first one open.

Holly stared down at the object in confusion. “A Darci doll.” She looked up at Mull. “Does Oz collect toys? Because… he doesn’t seem cool enough for that.”