Page 112 of Female Fantasy
Chapter Twenty-Three
I can remember only three times in my life when I have felt bone-chillingly, life-flashing-before-my-eyes, shit-my-pants scared.
The first was when my parents took me into the city to see Cirque du Soleil when I was six. It was my first time at Madison Square Garden, and the number of people in the stadium, sucking the life out of the room, overwhelmed me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. By the time the contortionists took the stage and began bending their bodies backward, I was throwing up into my popcorn.
The second was in high school, when some wiseass who believed the Middle East was monolith and couldn’t tell the difference between Syria and Serbia spray-painted BOMBS AWAY! on my locker. When I entered my combination, a ticking sound filled my ears. For about thirty seconds, I actuallybelieved that some idiot bully had the gall to bring an explosive device to school. Turned out it was just a kitchen timer. But the scare tactic worked all the same.
The third was a year after I graduated from college. It was a Friday night, and Kyle had discouraged me from going out with my friends. We were curled up on the couch, my head nestled into his chest, watching a movie. An actor came on screen, and before my brain could catch up with my mouth, I murmured, “He’s so hot,” under my breath. Without warning, Kyle’s right hand stopped caressing my hair and wrapped around my throat. And squeezed. Lightly. Then a bit harder, until I felt the oxygen leaving my lungs. When he released me, he insisted I apologize to him for being insensitive.
Three times in my life.
Three incidents that made me feel like the rug had been pulled out from under my feet, like my days on this Earth were numbered, like my limited time here was precious.
All three times, I was immobilized by my fear.
But that version of Joonie?
She had never heard of EGC.
That Joonie had never met the Salty Girls.
And that Joonie hadn’t readA Tale of Salt Water & Secretsupward of seven times.
So when I turn around and come face-to-face with one of my foes, a tiny voice in my head whispers:Not this time.
“Good to see you, sugarplum.” Thomas’s smile is menacing. He makes his way around the block on the right-hand side, still dressed in that same gaudy velour tracksuit. “Wewere so sad when we returned to find y’all missing. Didn’t your folks ever teach you that it’s rude to leave a party without saying goodbye?”
Nico takes a casual step in front of me, adopting a protective stance. “Apologies for our etiquette,” he says, his voice steady. “We were looking for more…comfortable accommodations.”
Thomas clicks his tongue. “And after we were so welcoming, too. Giving you two stragglers a lift. What ever happened to gratitude?”
Clarisse turns the corner opposite from her partner, approaching us from the left, her blue hair billowing behind her like a rogue wave. She blows out a cloud of smoke from her vape, her red lipstick smeared all over her face and teeth like she has a bloody nose.
I feel Nico stiffen next to me, fighting the urge to panic.
Think, Joonie. What would Merriah do?
Well, she’d fight back, that’s for damn sure. She’d call upon the powers of the treasure trove. Too bad I don’t have an ancient conch to call Tey with or a dorsal fin to rub, signaling a horde of bloodthirsty dolphins to come to my aid.
I do, however, have a borrowed phone.
Without breaking eye contact, I reach into my pocket and find Roy’s burner. I type a message without looking at the screen and press send, dispatching it to my few contacts.
A Hail Mary.
And now I need to keep these circus freaks distracted.
“How did you two even find us?” I ask, buying time. “Did you put trackers on our bags or something?” Nico suggested weditch our stuff, and I called him paranoid. Insisted that there was no way two amateur thugs with what was surely a paint gun and a taser would be able to pull off such CIA-worthy tomfoolery.
“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that much,” Thomas says. “We had to phone a friend.”
The door of a punch buggy parked on the street opens.
I hear the chiming of thick gold clanging together first.
Then I see the fine leather shoes.
The slick, gelled-back hair.
