Stray Read online

  6.

  A Friend In Need

  “I think Green’s idea was great. I can totally see you buying a ton of drugs.”

  Oliver was smirking. By the time Emery had finished with Green, Lydia had gathered everyone in the basement and introduced them to the new arrival. Oliver was sitting with Miren on a stained, sagging beige couch, passing a pint carton of blueberries back and forth. Miren flicked one at Emery to punctuate Oliver’s comment.

  He managed to catch it reflexively; of course, once he was trying, he missed the second one. “I’m happy to be a source of amusement,” he said dryly. “But if we can please be serious for a moment, this poses a huge liability for all of us. I obviously can’t afford to get investigated.”

  Oliver wasn’t finished having his fun. “But Emery, why in the world would that happen? You’re so composed, you’d be the coolest customer on the black market. Hell, you could even start dealing as a side job, if you had any need for more money.”

  Lydia apparently disagreed. “This is monumentally stupid.” Her expression had darkened as Emery recounted his meeting with Green, and she had not smiled since. Her almond eyes were downcast. For months, he’d had little from her beyond such sideways glances and remarks. Truth be told, it was more than he could stand of her some days. It wasn’t that anything in particular had changed since Timothy’s decline and passing; in fact, too little had changed. She’d been scant support to him in those days, and her presence tried him now.

  “I think the payoff outweighs the risk,” Miren countered. “How many people in Rittenhouse are doing things that could get them exiled, and how many ever get caught? If it is medicine, it could help a lot of people.” Miren’s own health was a testament to her line of argument. For five months now she had been sustained by the antibiotics Emery’s last journey outside Rittenhouse had secured. The sickness that had eaten at her flesh was in remission now, and she looked far healthier than she had mere months ago. She had gained weight and color, and her arms bore only faint scars where the sores had been. A natural beauty had returned to her in health, and her newfound energy made her blue eyes even brighter.

  “I just don’t see how I’m going to learn anything of value in six weeks,” Emery said. “That’s not much time to earn anyone’s trust.”

  “Which is probably smart on their part,” Oliver noted, “considering that your whole goal is to exploit whatever you learn.”

  Emery emitted the beginning of a laugh. “Anyway, I have no idea where to start.” He glanced down at the letter. “This ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ is the only clue we have to go on, and if I’ve never heard of it in three years living in this city, I’m going to guess it’s guarded knowledge. Even if I want to start by buying off some poppy dealers like Green suggests, I have no idea where to find one.”

  “Why not ask Juliet? She’s a lot more laid back than you, anyway; I’m sure she’s tried gum before.” Oliver idolized Emery’s best friend, and he’d doubtless noticed that she hadn’t been around as much since Emery had started work on the tunnel.

  “I guess that’s as good a place to start as anywhere,” Emery confessed. He didn’t want to approach her about it, but he had no idea what else to do.

  “So what are you going to do with all the poppy gum you’ll be bringing home?” Miren asked brightly. “Can we have a house party?”

  “I’ll be sure to dispose of it before I enter the house.” Emery shot her a stern glare. “I’m sure you’re all smart enough that I don’t need to tell you the house rules remain precisely the same. I’m doing what’s necessary to get to this medicine, if it is medicine, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” Lydia muttered. “Because it’s stupid.”

  He was about to reply when Salvador came down the stairs. He was apparently unaccustomed to the clothing Lydia had supplied him; the crème dress shirt was buttoned unevenly. His hair had wet the shirt. “I feel much better with th’ piss washed off me,” he announced.

  “That’s good,” Emery said. “Come, sit down. We were just talking about the information you shared with my friend Green. He told us that you overheard something about a shipment, and he gave me the letter you brought him. Is there anything else you can add?”

  Salvador chose a free swivel chair and spun it backward, straddling it and resting his chest against its back. He offered a sheepish grin. “In truth,” he said, “ye’ probably know more than me. I heard enough to know th’ letter was important, that’s about it. I’m sure most of what he told ye’ was in th’ letter, and—well, my reading is a mite rusty.”

  Emery supposed this was something of an understatement. “Alright. You didn’t overhear anything about the shipment—say, what it contains?” Salvador shrugged. “Anything about medicine, maybe?” Emery added hopefully.

  The newcomer perked up at the suggestion. “Come to think of it… th’ one taking the letter said something to the point of, this’ll help a lot of sick folk.”

  That was all the confirmation Emery needed. “Great! If anything comes to mind that you think might be useful, be sure to let me know.” He leaned toward Miren to pluck a blueberry from the quickly diminishing carton. “I suppose I’ll go talk to Juliet later today.”

  “So while you’re spending all your time doing this,” Miren asked, “do we get some time off from digging?” Emery had instated a new household rule that everyone must contribute to the work in the tunnel.

  “You wish. If anything, I should increase your workload to make up for the time I won’t be able to spend on it.”

  “I agree with Lydia, then. This is stupid.” Miren withheld the blueberries in an expression of dissent.

  “Lydia,” Emery said, “may I talk to you upstairs for a moment?”

  She nodded and rose from her seat. On the way up they passed Geneva and Carrot playing nautica on a board as pricy as a dozen books. (Carrot was in fact the boy’s given name and not an alias, though Emery had refused to believe so at first.) “Ye’ doing it wrong, dummy,” Carrot said as they passed, grabbing at one of Geneva’s galleons to move it back to its prior place.

  “You’re, not ye’,” Lydia said instinctively, “and don’t let me catch you calling names.” Emery was endlessly grateful Lydia was present to handle the young ones, at least; she was much better at it than he.

  Geneva stuck her nose up, vindicated. “See?” she said triumphantly. “You’re the dummy anyway.”

  Emery sighed. “That goes for you too, Geneva.”

  They made their way upstairs into the kitchen. Someone had made coffee earlier, and Emery poured himself the lukewarm leftovers from the press. He sat; Lydia remained standing, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her black slacks. “So what’s up?” she asked either impatiently or nervously.

  “I wanted to tell you what Green said about this Salvador. He says that the kid’s a thief and that the only reason the king offered to help him in the first place was for the information he provided. Green actually advised me not to take him in. We’ll want to keep a close eye on him.”

  She nodded wordlessly.

  Emery studied her face, but her demeanor was a wall. “What’s wrong? Is it about what we were discussing downstairs?”

  “It’s nothing. I mean, yeah, that’s really damn stupid. But whatever.” She looked away as she spoke. “It’s nothing new, Emery.”

  “What do you mean?” He leaned forward; she backed away.

  “Can we not pretend that things haven’t been weird for a while now?” She glanced at him for a moment, almost inquisitively, and looked away again. “You should get going to Juliet’s. We’ll talk when you have more time.” Emery found that an agreeable arrangement; he already had one uncomfortable conversation ahead of him this evening.

  It was dusk when he set out. What little snow the sun had melted earlier in the day was beginning to freeze, forming a slick glaze that crunched under his boots. Emery’s backside was still bruised from his earlier spil
l, and he resolved to tread more carefully now. He still slipped a few times in the waning light but never lost his footing entirely. Juliet’s family lived in a condominium complex called Oakland Ridge, south and far west of Emery’s estate. Outside his own neighborhood, detached homes were few; most of Rittenhouse’s residences were larger units, and Oakland Ridge was the largest of the condominiums that housed the city’s middle class. Like all housing in the city, these residences were segregated by circle; only Roccetti lived in Juliet’s building and the three adjacent to it. On other side sides of the common square at the center of the campus were four buildings for each other circle, totaling sixteen. The oak double doors to the lobby area in Juliet’s building were unlocked, so Emery let himself in and jogged up the concrete stairs to the fourth floor. He rapped on the door and was greeted a moment later by Juliet’s father. “Good evening, sir Spiros.”

  “Emery. How many times have I told you to call me Alan?” sir Spiros greeted him. “Come in. I feel we haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “I guess time has gotten away from me. Those condensed classes for the winter term were killer.” Emery hadn’t taken any winter classes. “I’ll hopefully be coming around more now, though.”

  Alan Spiros seemed quite happy with that idea. He was a short, stout man with silver hair and a clean jaw. He conducted research at the collegio and occasionally taught classes, but since his focus was in the sciences, Emery had never had him as a maestro. “That’s good to hear,” he replied. “We’ve missed having you for dinner, and it looks like you could use a good meal.”

  Emery smiled back. “I have more than enough food.”

  “But less than enough time to be bothered to eat it, knowing you.” Alan chuckled. “Besides,” he added emphatically, “we know how much Juliet enjoys your company.”

  Emery had often noted the Spiros parents’ less-than-subtle insinuations that they would be happy to see his friendship with Juliet become something more than that. Having known Emery for years, they saw past his eccentricities and apparently ignored whatever rumors about him circulated the city. And there was his formidable wealth to consider. “Well,” he repeated, “I’ll be coming around more now.”

  Alan Spiros smiled. “She’s in her room.”

  Though the Spiros family didn’t possess the kind of wealth Emery had inherited from his late cousin, their home was still impressive. The walnut flooring was stained a deep red, and the entire back wall of the living room was clear glass overlooking Oakland Ridge’s central square. Emery crossed the room to a long candlelit corridor and tapped on Juliet’s bedroom door. The phonograph inside was blaring and she probably couldn’t hear his knocking, so he let himself in.

  It was a dark, dissonant piano arrangement. Juliet was sitting before an easel with her back to the door, so she neither saw nor heard his entrance. An androgynous figure with four halos was taking shape on the canvas, vivisected by beams of light. “It’s a little creepy,” Emery said as he drew nearer.

  She didn’t start. “Hmm,” she said, eyes still locked on the painting, “I guess it kind of is.” She groped around with her left hand and, finding a paint-stained knob on the phonograph, turned the volume low. After another stroke she spun in her chair to face Emery. “Glad you remember your way here, man.”

  Emery got the feeling it wouldn’t do to make his request immediately. “Like I said, I’m going to try to be more available.” He took a seat at the foot of her bed and regarded the canvas. “How long have you been working on this?”

  “About a week, maybe, on and off. Most of my time has been going toward school and doing music stuff with Sander.”

  Emery grinned at that. “I bet you two get a whole lot of music done.”

  Juliet rolled her eyes and flicked her paintbrush in Emery’s direction. A drop of orange splattered against his cheek. “Quite a bit, thank you.” She couldn’t help smiling just a little, though.

  “I have to admit, I like him better than most of your prior selections. Even if he does look too much like his evil bastard uncle.”

  “I think he’s attractive,” she said defensively, “but I guess I don’t have the same history with Dr. Hanssen you do.”

  Emery nodded. “You probably want to keep it that way.” He motioned toward the painting again. “So what’s the idea you’re working with here?”

  “Oh,” Juliet said. “I’m calling it ‘City of Light’ right now, but the name will probably change a couple times before I’m done. It’s supposed to show how circle divisions harm Rittenhouse as a whole, and deepening them would pretty much kill it.” She licked her finger and rubbed at a fleck of dry paint on her other hand. “I’ve been trying to do some political pieces before the election and hopefully get them up in the school gallery or something, but it’s hard finding ways to explore some of these concepts without sounding like a shepherd on Sunday.”

  Emery nodded. “I think you’re off to a good start here.”

  Juliet dropped her brush in a tin can half-filled with murky water. “That’s good. I’ve been staring at it for so long today I don’t think I like it anymore.”

  “Come back to it later,” Emery suggested.

  “Yeah. I think I need a drink.”

  “Speaking of drinks.” Emery drew a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking, I should start taking it a bit easier. Maybe get out to some parties with you.”

  Perhaps it was his forced tone that made Juliet immediately suspicious. “Emery,” she said, eyebrows arched, “what’s going on?”

  He sighed and began to recount Green’s visit and their conversation. Juliet had never heard of Jacob’s Ladder either, he was unsurprised to discover. She listened without reply except for the occasional mhmm, but she looked increasingly irritated as Emery explained his goal and his intended means. When he had finished, she rose wordlessly and left the room, leaving Emery alone for more than a minute.

  She reentered with a sigh and two drink glasses. She handed one to Emery and he took a sip. Vodka and apple juice on the rocks. Juliet took a long swallow from her cup. “So let me get this straight. You want me to take you to parties so you can make connections with dealers and then give their secrets away.”

  “It’s not like I’m reporting them to Unity or something,” Emery said. “I don’t really care about the poppy trade one way or another. We just need to figure out where this medicine is going to be leaving the city from—”

  “I know you’re used to taking stupid risks, but you do realize this would put me in danger too, right?” Juliet was holding her glass by its rim, moving her wrist in impatient circles that created a whirlpool in the cocktail. “And you’re not the only one who can’t afford to get investigated right now. If something got out about me and Sander, it would make it impossible for either of us to ever find a job, at least. Depending on how serious it got, we could get exiled, Emery.”

  “I know this is a lot to ask.” He put a hand to his temple. “Please don’t get offended—”

  “How am I supposed to not be offended?” Her voice was rising. “You say you’re here to hang out, when you really came over to ask me to help you get connections you look down on in the first place. Do you think I don’t notice how disdainful you are now when I ask you to come out and you say you’ve got ‘important things’ to do? It’s gotten to the point where you seem to think anybody not doing what you’re doing is wasting their time. We can’t all have your self-destructive sense of duty, Emery. Of course I’m offended.”

  Emery stared at Juliet’s mismatched socks, taken aback. For a long time he tried to think of a worthy response; none came, so he merely said, “I didn’t know you saw it that way. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

  She took another sip of her drink. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

  He chanced a glance at her eyes. “You will?”

  “Yeah.” Her moment of anger seemed to be giving way to mere annoyance. “Because I know that under other circumstances, you�
�d help me, even if I was being an asshole. But Emery. There’s a line between me helping you because I’m your friend and me keeping you from screwing up too badly because I’m your friend. You’re getting pretty close to that line.” She set her drink on the floor and stood up. “Also, I have some conditions.”

  “Okay.” Emery really wasn’t in a position to argue. He’d have to wait for another time to make her understand. “What conditions?”

  “For starters, we’re dating now.”

  “You and Sander? I know; you just told me at the requiem.”

  “No,” she said, “me and you.”

  “Umm. Juliet, you know you’re my best friend and all…”

  “No, listen. I’ve been thinking about this. With me and Sander being involved, and you into all the dumb stuff you’re into, we need some way to divert attention from what’s actually going on in both our lives. I’ve talked to Sander about it, and he’s fine with me publicly dating you as cover. And since you’re asking me to put us all at even bigger risk, I’m assuming your cooperation. As far as anyone besides the three of us is concerned, you and me are an item now. We’ll announce it at your birthday party.”

  She was moving too quickly for Emery to follow. “My birthday party?”

  “Yeah, your birthday was this past week, remember? I called but couldn’t get ahold of you. So this is part of our cover, but also partly payback for you never hanging out with me.” She smiled. “You’re going to host a belated birthday party for yourself, at your house. It’s something normal people do.”

  He shivered at the thought. “There are some really obvious reasons why I can’t do that.”

  “Why did you go to all the trouble of building that hiding place, if you’re never planning to use it? Look at it this way: having a party is safer than not having a party. You have to be aware, Emery, that everyone is wondering what goes on behind the walls of your estate. People like Carla Engal seem to have nothing better to do than speculate about it, and they come up with some theories almost as wild as the truth. You need to revise your ideas of what’s safe and what isn’t, and right now, the safest thing is to have our friendly classmates come and get drunk and see that there’s really nothing worth gossiping about. Plus, it’s one of my conditions, so if you want my help, you sort of have to.”

  Emery sighed. “Fine. I’ll just have to hope the kids can stay quiet for a whole night. Any other conditions?”

  “Just one more.” Juliet was digging through her closet; after a moment, she produced some pieces of scrap canvas. “I got my hopes up when you said you were here to hang out. So that’s what we’re going to do. Drink your drink and find a paintbrush. The night is young.”

  He smiled. “I suppose I can be persuaded to do that.”