Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 04 - Strings of Glass by Emily Kimelman

extended over
the large veranda. At its peak, a
paper star swung in the breeze, decoration left over from the Christmas
holiday. A high wall, topped with broken glass that glinted in the sunlight,
separated the house from the road.
    “I’ve
wished for his death a thousand times,” Anita said. Her voice caught in
her throat. “And I also missed him.” She shook her head. “What a
fucking psycho he turned me into.”
    “I
know the feeling.”
    “You
were?”
    “No,
the being a psycho thing, though. I know about that.
About having crazy emotions that make you do dangerous things.”
    “Is
that what you do now?”
    “I
don’t know what I do now, but I know that I want to stop Kalpesh Shah.” I
turned to her, taking her shoulders in my hands. They were small and I could
feel her bones. “I don’t like injustice, I don’t like it when people let
things happen. When they just sit on their asses and watch. If you let me,
I’ll help you bring him to justice.”
    She
looked up at me. “Let’s do it.” And then she smiled in a way that
made her eyes glow. The glint of revenge, I thought. 
    #
    I loaned Anita my cell phone to
call her editor after I made her promise not to mention me. I left her out on
the veranda and went into our cabana to offer her some privacy… or at least
the illusion of it. Dan sat at his desk, leaning over his computer, a joint
hanging from his lip. He looked up when I walked in. “Good talk?” he
asked.
    “I
think so,” I said.
    “We
going?”
    I
nodded. “Yeah.”
    He
grinned. “Awesome. Come here.” I crossed the room and took the joint
that he offered me. “Check this out,” he said,
pointing to the screen. “It’s him, Kalpesh.” On the screen a middle
aged man with a deep scar down the side of his face looked out at me. He was
not smiling but appeared amused. Possibly at the ridiculousness of his own
outfit. He was dressed up in robes and jewels that gave him the appearance of
something ancient, out-of-date and
well, ridiculous. “His family has been in development forever,” Dan
said,
taking the joint back. I sat on his knee and he scrolled through some more
pictures of Shah. “His house in Old City is a heritage site and he’s
buying up the whole area.” Dan told me, handing back the joint. I pulled
on it, watching as the images flashed on the screen.
    “So
he could be keeping the kids in any number of buildings?” I asked.
    “That’s
right,” Dan said, taking back the joint. He
smiled at me.
    “What?”
    “I’m
just saying. This is what it could be like. You and me working together.”
His arm encircled my waist and pulled me closer. “We can come up with a
new name for it.”
    “Calm
down,” I said. “Let’s see how this goes, OK?”
    “Yes,
Captain.”
    “Don’t
call me that!”
    Dan
shrugged.
    Blue
stood up and greeted Anita, who stood in the doorway, looking down at my phone.
    “How
did it go with your editor?” I asked.
    “I
didn’t like lying to her but I didn’t mention you,” Anita said,
looking up at me. “I told her I managed to escape the attackers myself.
She wanted me to come home immediately, but I insisted I stay through the Kite
Festival.”
    Anita
stepped into the room and sat on our bed. “I guess soon after that she’ll
learn the truth when we land in Paris with Shah.”
    “You
still can’t talk about me then. You can’t ever talk about me,” I said.
    Anita
turned to me. “Really? How am I supposed to explain Shah being there, the
private jet, any of this?”
    “I’m
sure you’ll come up with something,” I said.
    Anita
stood up. “What? Do I suddenly work for you now?”
    I rose
off Dan’s lap, ignoring his whispered plea for calm. “No,” I said
evenly,
“but
you owe me.” I raised my eyebrows.
    Anita’s
eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
    “So
stop bitching.”
    Anita
sat down again and I followed suit. “Fine,” Anita said nodding.
“You’re right. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
    “That
a