Page 12 of Promises to Keep

Hayley and I sat up. “It’s cold.”

“Yep, and the rations are working my nerves — what did Magnus have for lunch?”

“You don’t want to know. It was good, but he wants to brag about it himself.” I added, “...And don’t be too hard on him, he was a long time in the past.”

“I know, I know, he’s too thin.”

He helped us up to our feet. “I think the party is going to start soon, we’ve got some distance to cover.”

We hiked for a while and then at the edge of the park, under a streetlamp, I fixed Hayley’s hair and she fixed mine. We changed from our heavy modern coats into fur wraps and applied lipstick and walked along the park path. Hayley stepped in a mud puddle. “Dammit, Lady Mairead is going to kill me, these shoes were… Katie, don’t let Lady Mairead kill me.”

“We’re going to rescue her, I was wrong earlier, she will be grateful. She won’t kill you.”

Quentin cleared his throat. “You are not rescuing, you are the spies, gathering intel for the rescue. Just discreetly take photos. Don’t screw this up,please. Don’t be a hero. I’ve got too much melanin to walk into that museum. Don’t make me have to do it.”

As we made it to the road, he passed us walkie-talkie necklaces he had found on Amazon. “James and I will be able to listen in, but we can’t communicate with you. You’re on your own. I’ll be nearby though, James will be right outside the museum, let us know if there is any trouble.”

I said, “Sounds good, we got this, right, Hayley?”

Hayley nodded.

I said, “What’s our code for trouble?”

Quentin said, “Magnus uses ‘Ice cream sucks’. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

I said, “Perfect.”

Quentin split off from our group.

We began to walk, but almost immediately Hayley said, “I know we are only going a few blocks, but my shoes are awful, can we ride?”

James said, “Nope it’s not in the—”

She put up an arm to hail a car, and a yellow and black old-timey taxi slid up to the curb.

James said, “Great — you’ve already gone rogue.”

Hayley said, “Look at our shoes, James, just look at them, this is necessary.”

The driver jumped out and helped Hayley and I into the very tight backseat.

James took one look and said, “Yeah, no... I’ll jog and meet you there.” He tapped the side of the taxi and took off at a brisk walk.

Hayley and I were practically on top of each other, cramped in. It smelled a little bit old and leathery and a lot like body odor. She dug in the seats. “Seatbelts? What the heck, no seatbelts?”

I gripped the handle as the driver pulled us away from the curb and then we were jostling, bouncing, and careening down the city streets, swerving around horse-drawn carriages, pull carts, weird bicycles, and pedestrians crossing wherever the hell they wanted.

* * *

Ten minutes later on the other end of the park, we jerked to a standstill in front of the building that housed the new collection of the Museum of Modern Art. I tossed the driver a coin from a stash I had found in Lady Mairead’s things, and Hayley and I were let out on the sidewalk out front. We adjusted our wraps and checked each other for hair out of place and makeup gone awry.

James strolled up. “Eventful?”

Hayley said, “We almost died.”

I scanned the crowd, people climbing from cars, wearing finery, hoping we blended in — we did, sort of, though our hair was not quite right, too long, not ‘done’ enough. “We need to get off the street, what if Lady Mairead drives up?”

James went to the side of the building where he would have a view. Hayley and I walked up the grand steps toward the building and inside.

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