Page 12 of Warped

I did what she’d asked, then collected my miniscule belongings of a credit card and a driver’s license. Surely, somewhere in this world, I had a place where, even if I didn’t call it home, I kept my belongings? That I only had what I stood up in felt bizarre.

The growingly familiar face of Harvey Baglione appeared from around the door. “Well, you’re looking more like your old self,” he declared. “Ready to go?”

I gave a close-lipped smile and nodded.

Together, we left the hospital and stepped onto the street.

He spoke low in my ear. “So what is this? Some kind of act?”

I jolted at his words. “What?”

“You can’t be serious about this bullshit. What are you trying to achieve? Is someone else after you? Why wouldn’t you just get the hell out of here instead of hanging around?”

“I swear, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

He gave a cold laugh. “Yeah, right, the infamous X is no more. Is this some crazy way of reinventing yourself again?”

I stopped and caught his arm. “What did you just call me?”

His eyes narrowed. “X. That’s your name.”

“No, my name is Lee Mason.” Yet that single initial woke something in me. I was sure it had meaning, though I had no idea what. And anyway, no one was called X. That wasn’t a name—it was a letter.

He gave a laugh. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You’re playing with me now.”

“I’m not playing. Someone shot me and threw me into a river where I almost drowned. I’ve woken up with no memory of who I am, so for the most part I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Shit. Well, you’d better remember fast or people are going to come and finish off the job.”

“What job?”

“The job of killing you.”

---