Page 111 of Dark Ugly Places

“He’s worse than that,” I tell her.

Emmy uses chopsticks professionally, spooning little kernels of rice and sweet-and-sour pork toward her mouth. I’m watching her when the phone at my side rings. She glances at me and then back at the TV.

“Is it them?”

I glance at the number. ID blocked. Just like Bambi’s. Green button. Slide to answer. “Hello?”

“Did you get it?” Bambi’s voice sounds oddly calm for this time of night.

I sit forward, letting the takeout container slip from my lap. Rice kernels fall onto the couch and the floor. I brush them off and stand up. “Yeah. I got it. Why?”

Heavy breaths and the sound of Bambi somewhere small and enclosed make me realize she’s hiding from him. My skin prickles with chill bumps.

“Tomorrow.”

I swallow the last of the greasy fried rice. “Are you sure?”

“It has to be.” She pauses, her breaths mounting. “They’ve canceled everything. His agent dropped him. He’s unstable, Martha. You don’t understand. I can’t … I just can’t anymore.”

My mind races. We’ve been over this, but it bears repeating. Everything must happen in a very specific sequence. “I’m coming over.”

“No!” Her voice rises, then immediately quiets. “I’ll meet you.”

“Where?”

“Your house?”

I step into the kitchen, aware Emmy is listening. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Fine. The café on Third, then. The little French one.”

“It will be shut. It’s almost 9 p.m.”

I hear Bambi thinking, a low noise in the background, like the TV is on. I realize she is hiding from him in one of the spare rooms.

“Where then?”

The spot. Our spot. It’s perfect, in an ironic kind of way.

“Go to the corner of Beverly and Oakhurst.”

A breathy pause. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be there.”

I hang up and spot Emmy behind me, staring. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I need to go out for a bit.”

“You’re meeting her at the spot. Why?” She shifts her weight and crosses her arms.

“Because Bambi needs me.”

She goes to the kitchen barstool and grabs her hoodie, Scotch trotting after her curiously. “I’m coming with you.”

An exasperated sigh releases from my lips. “No, Emmy.”

She grabs her black hoodie and throws it on, a defiance as she dresses. “You can’t make me stay here.”