Page 26 of Kept 2
Closing my eyes, I picture the beautiful, dark blue, crockpot I had lusted after earlier in the day; I so wish I had the money to buy it. But I had been positively restrained and left the shop before I could open my purse, reminding myself I needed to save my travel money. So far, I had only made one expensive purchase, and that was a set of chef’s knives that wiped out two week’s pay – but boy they were worth it. However, I’d also developed a serious addiction to pricey antique cookware that would rival Margarita’s expensive shoe addiction any day.
Deciding on a whim to try Margarita for the second time today, I hit speed dial. I like to update her message bank daily on my thoughts and feelings, kind of like an oral journal. Leaving the messages makes me believe she could still be out there, alive somewhere.
I wait for the inevitable voice message, but this time, the phone is answered.
“Josie? Is that you?”
“Margarita?” I screech in surprise, delight, fear, relief, everything rolled into one, “you’re alive?”
“Of course, yes. Oh God, I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch. We were at sea and ...”
“You’re alive!” I shout, remembering only at the last minute where I am and that I need to keep my voice down.
“Yes, I said that I’m alive. I’ve been cruising with Jerry, and I meant to phone you when we left from Vegas, but there was no phone reception on the yacht. We’ve just pulled into an island to refuel, and I checked my messages and, Josie – what-the-ever-loving fuck? Since when have you started taking drugs?”
“Drugs?” I stare at the phone and pull a ‘what the hell’ face.
“Yes, clearly you are on drugs or having some kind of psychotic episode or something. Have you reached out for help? Is the school counsellor able to refer you or something?”
“Margarita,” I scowl, “whatareyou talking about?”
“You,” she shouts, “your messages. Pursued by vampires, Blake dead, journals wrapped in skin. You, Josie. What the hell is going on? I go away for a month, and you lose your shit?”
I place the phone carefully on the table in front of me and bury my face in my hands. Taking a deep breath, a calm breath, I try to explain.
“Margarita, first off, you have been gone for a hell of a lot longer than a month. Secondly, I’m not on drugs. The journal I found belonged to a vampire; they are real. He’s chasing me, and he’s going to kill me. That, I swear, hand on heart, is the God’s own truth.”
There is only silence on the other end of the line for a full thirty seconds.
“Margarita?”
“Where are you? Are you still in Boston? One of your messages said you were heading to the airport. Tell me where you are, I’m coming to get you. We will figure this all out together. Everything will be OK.”
“No, Margarita, I don’t want you caught up in this. I thought you were dead, I thought, oh God,” I begin crying, quietly, “I thought he’d killed you to send a message to me. The fact that you are really off honeymooning or whatever,” my sobs begin to get harder, “Jesus, Margarita, I’m so happy to hear your voice, you have no idea.”
“Calm down, Chiquita,” she says gently, “everything will be OK. Jerry has a private jet. Wherever you are, we can come and get you; it’s all going to work out fine.”
I sniff and nod and blow my nose on a napkin.
“Now,” she says again, her voice, once more, in the cadence someone would use to a frightened animal, the same voice I’d heard her use on the stray cat we once fed.
“And the cat, someone took the cat, a man trapped it and took it,” I shake my head, as though I need to tell her everything, all at once.
“What, Kitty?” she laughs, “no, I have Kitty. Jerry caught her for me and had her waiting on the yacht. He’s so thoughtful like that. She’s almost tame now, you know.”
Somewhere, though my tears, through the fog of my shock at hearing her voice, through everything, the fact that her Jerry was the one who took the cat sends shivers down my spine, and I begin to realise, almost too late, why.
“Where are you, Josie?” she asks again.
“Bali,” I say, my voice dull, “I’m in Bali.”
“OK, we are on our way. I’ll phone when we land.”
“OK. Goodbye, Margarita.”
“Cheer up, chick. We will be together soon.”
“Yeah.”
