Chapter Twelve

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One day ago...

@wordwizard: Are you going to ignore my calls forever?

@GDDJ: I'm not ignoring you Pearl keeps cutting your calls from MY phone

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard yes screw you. @GDDJ how dare you

@wordwizard: when are you deciding to grow up @cuttingbitch

@cuttingbitch: not anytime soon

@wordwizard: I'll treat you for lunch

@GDDJ @cuttingbitch

@GDDJ: I'm in

@cuttingbitch: @GDDJ no you're not

@GDDJ: pearl...

@cuttingbitch: are you freaking serious right now????????

@cuttingbitch is offline
@GDDJ is offline

Today...

@wordwizard: I'm counting to five.

@GDDJ: oh oh

@cuttingbitch: that only worked when you were my best friend!!!

@wordwizard: One.

@GDDJ: hey I'm already in...

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard ITS NOT WRKING @GDDJ NO. YOU'RE.  NOT.

@wordwizard: Two.

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard STOP THAT RIGHT NOW. I DON'T CARE

@wordwizard: FOUR.

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard WHER DID THREE GO BITCH!!

@wordwizard is typing...

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard  FINE!!!!! STOP COUNTING ALREADY WE R NOT FIVE.

@wordwizard: 😏

@GDDJ: finally

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard @GDDJ bitches

@cuttingbitch is offline

@GDDJ: usual spot? Same time?

@wordwizard: Yep. See you'll there.

@cuttingbitch is online.

@cuttingbitch is typing...

@cuttingbitch: @wordwizard 🖕

@wordwizard: @cuttingbitch eloquent 😁

@cuttingbitch is offline.

Now...

I had started a new practice. Why?

To get a rise out of my husband?

Because it was fun?

Because despite everything (aka his spontaneous bear-like grumpy tendencies) I wasn't scared of him?

All of the above?

The practice was, calling my husband every three hours. Why? The answer was many-fold.

The first time, I'd forgotten how to spell the word among. Something about the word just looked wrong and the longer I stared at it, the worst it became.

The second time, I wanted to ask him if he thought pink was a good colour on men. Why? Refer to above second, third, fourth and fifth stated reasons.

The third time, I wanted to ask him if my calls were annoying him.

The fourth time, honestly I stopped coming up with reasons, he wasn't picking any of my calls anyway.

The last statement made was the reason for my new found practice. Because I had found out from my astute observations, that my husband never ignored calls.

But mine, he never picked.

So I called him a fifth time to ask him whether I was special because he ignored all of my calls.

Not that he'd answered.

Somehow, his ignorance of my calls made me laugh. It didn't hurt me or upset me or make me feel bad. What was superbly strange...was that I got a little kick out of it. I was also tremendously amused and it got me by the day during several of my writer's blocks where I'd found that my plot had holes that were the size of a small village.

I set my phone aside, the call to my husband ringing through. I stretch out and then massage my neck that had a painful crick in it.

My eyes are drawn back to my phone screen. The call was still connecting.

He never cut my calls. Which was strange. Because my husband was almost always getting calls... but he never cut mine to receive another. He always let it ring until my call disconnected on its own. And somehow whenever I called, the call always went though.

Strange.

"Mrs. Kri, it's time for you to leave for your lunch meet." The house says.

I check the time and stand up. I head to my room and pull on jeans over my loose grey shirt, leaving it half tucked in. I had told Hrei in the morning that she needn't make lunch for me.

I took me good ten minutes of rewording the question in my mind a few times before being asking her why she cooked when she didn't need to eat.

She'd laughed and told me she was wondering why I hadn't asked her that the first day. I smiled as awkwardly as I could. Then she explained that she enjoyed the flavours even if she didn't need to eat exactly.

It was like ice cream or popcorn, she explained, guilty pleasures.

She also says that the organs they had needed to have a regular working. They had stomachs, enzymes, digestive tracts...Without food in them the acids corrode stomach walls and issues form from keeping them unused. Like a limb would from being still for too long. 

Then she added sadly, "Not all of us like it... But some of us do. We still like the routine. Makes us feel..."
She hadn't finished that statement, her gaze taking on a distant look.

It had been on the tip of my tongue to pry further. But I kept my questions to myself. She'd thrown me a shy look then.

"Lunch with the husband?" she'd asked me.

I thrown her a surprised look.

"Does he like to eat?" I hadn't ever seen him eat, save for coffee. I had presumed he just didn't want to or need to.

"He..." she seemed to think about it, "He isn't like the rest of us."

To ask or not to ask?

"How do you mean?"

She looks at me with a sad smile, "He's always been very settled in his skin. He's never longed for something he doesn't have and has always embraced what he does."

I had bit my tongue then to keep from asking more.

She looked down then back at me, "Maybe that's why he's one of—if not the—strongest wielder of the shadows."

My gaze snapped up and I stare at her.

Wielder of what?

Her expression had changed as soon as she'd perceived the blank look on my face. Five minutes later, she'd left the house saying she had somewhere to be. And the whole time she hadn't met my eyes, murmuring whatever she had to say to me under her breath.

I had more questions than answers after my conversation with her and I weighed the option of asking my husband about them once he'd returned.

I grab my purse and book a cab on my phone.

"Mrs. Kri, Mr. Bal is available. Would you like me to connect the intercom to—"

I shake my head frantically, "No, no, that's fine. I've booked a cab. It's just lunch."

"Mrs. Kri, I strongly suggest—"

"Overruled!" I say. I try to open the front door, but it remains firmly closed.

Suddenly a bulb flickers on in my mind. I snap my fingers and whip around, pointing to the house.

"Houston!" I gasp excitedly. I point vigorously. "We should call you Houston!"

I'm jumping on my feet in excitement.

"Very punny, Mrs. Kri." Houston says, dryly before adding, "I approve."

I squeak and dance on the spot.

"Smart, no?" I ask, tickled by my own ingenuity.

"Yes. Extremely. Now what would be intelligent is to call Mr. Bal—"

"Houston, we need obedience." I declare.

Houston sighs, "I shall mark my calender." She says.

I frown. That didn't make sense.

"What'll you mark it as?" I ask, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The day I volunteered to be the butt of all future jokes." Houston says.

"Awwww." I laugh, then point at the door. "Open the door."

"Mrs. Kri."

I cross my arms. "Aren't you supposed to listen to what I say?"

A short silence.

"Yes, Mrs. Kri."

"And are you allowed to overrule me?" I ask, tipping my chin.

"In the advent of emergency."

I hadn't expected that. "What kind of emergency?" I ask.

My phone pings, alerting me that my cab had arrived.

"In the advent that you do something that is potentially self-harming." Houston says, dragging my attention back to her.

My hands drop to my sides.

"What?" I ask in a whisper, "Why would I hurt myself?"

"An accident also works. Perhaps you trip on your toes, fall into the pool, hit your head and lose consciousness." Houston says.

My brows raise, "You've really thought about this..." then I make a face, "Why would I trip on my toes?"

"How would I know? I don't have toes."

I roll my eyes and then snicker.

"Fine. Well I'm neither tripping over my toes nor falling headfirst into the kitchen sink. So how about you let me leave?" I ask.

"Mrs. Kri, I remain hesitant—"

"Houston, for God's sake! If I don't leave right now my life definitely will be in danger."

Because Pearl would fry my ass sideways, as she liked to say.

Silence is the only response I get. I throw my hands in the air.

"Would you be willing to let me inform and share your location with Mr. Kri?" she asks me.

I shrug, "I have no problem. Please go ahead." Then, I mutter under my breath, "Doesn't answer my calls anyway."

In four seconds the door opens for me. My jaw drops.

"He picked your call?" I ask.

"He's acknowledged the message."

"Immediately?" I ask.

"I could give you a response time estimation. I could also compare it with the other times I have—" she sounds excited but I cut in.

"What did he say?" I ask.

A pause.

"Bringing the child in-between parent quarrels is said to be bad parenting." Houston informs me.

I huff out a breath.

"How are you—" my phone pings again and I decide to leave this be.

The damn door was open. The cab was waiting. My life was on the line with Pearl and her temperament.

I chose the option that meant I would be alive to see my husband this evening. I walked out the door.

I launch myself into the cab as soon as I leave the building and as I'm leaving, I stare up at it for the first time.

My brows raise. I was living in the most posh area in the city amongst the richest and well-known people in the country. Fantastic.

The cabbie's eyes remained wide. I think he checked me out a few times, to see if I were someone he knew from somewhere.

When I got down, he asked if I would take a picture with him. His daughter loved me.

Who did he think I was?

"Mrs. Alanna Kri." He tells me when I tell him I'm no one special, "My daughter reads your books. I spend half my salary on it."

Oh oh.

"How about you give me your address and I send your daughter any book she likes? Mine or otherwise?" I say.

His eyes widen and he nods, rattling off his address that I send to my agent with a quickly typed message. I grin at his phone as he quickly takes a picture.

"What's your daughter's name?" I ask.

"Erin." He says.

I nod and wave at him, rushing into the small restaurant.

A father recognised me. He recognised me with my name. My married name. I don't doubt I'm known in the world, given I was after all the first human married into a Yade family.

I quickly send my agent the young girl's name as well and then look up to search for my friend.

I spy the top of Greg's light haired head where I expect it to be and start over to our usual booth. We were at our usual. K's. A little burger joint run by, Keith. The man was the size of a tank and everyone fondly referred to him as Papa K, though the man was the equivalent of a bear in temperament. Grunts and grumbles were the extent of his speech, and scowls and frowns, the extent of his expressions.

As I come closer to our booth, Pearl's fiery expression is visible and as soon as I see her, she sees me. She promptly begins to make mincemeat of me in her mind and lets me know she's doing so from the look in her eyes.

Her arms are crossed as I walk over to her side and drop down beside her.

"You're late bitch." is the first thing she tells me.

Yeah, by a micro-minute. I roll my eyes.

I grin at Greg and his dark eyes widen a little, surprised. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

"You're...happy." his tone lilts with his surprise at the end.

I grin, "Mm hmm." I say and then quickly scroll through the little tablet set into the centre of the table and begin ordering what I want. My usual. A gigantic serving of die-in-your-seat burger.

Pearl leans forward to stare at my face as I code in their usuals as well. In my peripheral I can see her share a look with Greg and her arms uncross.

"Where are you staying?" she asks me.

I finish sending our order and lean back. I look her straight in the eye and tell her.

Her eyes widen and Greg chokes on the sip of water he'd taken.

"What?!" Greg splutters, then his brows raise, "Wow. Can I get married to a Yade?"

I cast him a grin and Pearl ignores him except to hold up a special finger in his direction. She turns further in her seat to face me.

"When did you last eat?" she asks me.

"This morning." I say, keeping my eyes steadily on her grey ones that scrutinise my face for every and any change.

"What did you eat?"

"Zucchini bread oatmeal."

She blinks, but bludgeons on.

"Did you eat last night?"

"Yes." I reply.

"What was it?"

"Pesto pasta and a steaming bowl of tomato soup." My reply was instant.

She leans back and stares at me.

"Water catches fire around you in the kitchen." She says.

Okay, that happened once. I still had no idea how. We buried the evidence and promised to never talk about it.

I growl out, "What happened to the sanctity of pinky swears?"

"Died along with that pan." She mutters distractedly.

"You hired a cook?" Greg guesses.

I turn to look at him. "My husband has a cook. She cooks for me. Pretty damn fantastically."

Greg leans back, thoughtful. "So they do need to eat?"

"Have you been writing?" Pearl apparently didn't care about their appetites.

I turn to Pearl once more. "Like a demon."

"Have you been writing well?" she emphasises.

I sigh, knowing she was referring to my unhealthy modus operandi for the past year where I stress-wrote. Because I needed to make money and tried to drown out all my problems in my work.

"Yes. Well." I tell her, seriously.

Her eyes flick to my hand and back up at me.

"You're wearing your ring."

"I am married." I remind her.

"What's he like?"

I smile. A real smile. A wide happy smile.

Her gaze widens and she leans forward.

"You like him!" she exclaims and I see relief in her gaze as her shoulders slump.

Her hands cover her face and her shoulders tighten. I share a glance with Greg, who looks stricken. I slide across the booth and hug her to me. She turns into me and begins to sob softly into my clothes.

Greg looks like he may have a heart attack.

I let her cry her relief against me and murmur into her hair.

"It's okay." I tell her, rubbing her shoulder, her hair, "I'm okay."

For all her bluster, her walls and her anger, she had the softest heart I knew.

"You're happy," she says softly, her crying slowly coming to a stop.

"I am." I tell her. Then wait as she remains in my embrace.

At some point our food arrives, but Greg looked terrified to touch anything.

"The food is here." I say to her.

If that didn't pull Pearl out of her slump, nothing else would. She straightens, ignores her tear streaked face and promptly begins to grab a handful of fries and stuff them into her mouth.

Around her food, she looks at me and says, "Bitch."—she chews—"You made me worry."

A toothy smile of fries was shot my way.

I pat her shoulder and look at Greg. He looks relieved. He throws me a tired smile and pats my hand.

"I'm glad you're happy Alanna. How about next time you don't push us away, hm?"

I nod and smile at him.

He begins to eat.

That's all they needed. To see I was okay. That's all they cared about. All the anger and agony they'd gone through on my behalf...all that I had put them through... disappeared in the face of my well being.

My throat clogs as I stare at my two friends. They were in the midst of stuffing their faces, but I was the luckiest girl on any side of the world to have them.

Deciding I needed a minute, I excuse myself. They barely look up from their food. I walk into the women's restroom and towards a sink. I take a breath. A few tears trickle down my face but I'm smiling. I swipe away at them.

Heart filled with fondness and love, I pull my phone out and send a call through to my husband. I just... I wanted to hear his voice.

I didn't expect him to pick up, so I let the call keep going and slide the phone into my back pocket as I gently splash some water onto my face.

I could feel the sensory feedback of the call ringing in my pocket. 

The sound of the restroom door opening has me reflexively glancing up at the mirror. The reflection shows two men enter the room. Wide shouldered, shifty eyed.

Warning bells ring in my mind.

I turn around and stare at the them, my heart beginning to pound. I clutch the sink at my back.

The two men come to stand side by side. There was no mistaking the look in their eyes. They were here for me.

The vibrations of the call seize and my heart sinks.

I look at the men warily.

Suddenly a different kind of vibration comes from my phone.

One of a voice.

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