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It was you, Manasseh Morgenstern!
“No. They were wearing masks, ” I shake my head and hand him the laptop. “There was no way for me to tell.”
“You pulled off one person’s mask at minute 46,” Skyfall rewinds and swallows hard.
“I’ve never seen that man in my life.”
“Then do you have any idea why they attacked you?” he asks, suspicion in his voice.
“No,” I respond confidently, but not truthfully. “They seem like pickpockets to me. It was probably a case of mistaken identity. I can’t say for sure.”
“Fine,” Skyfall huffs and runs his fingers through his hair, closing the laptop. “We’ll stay in touch.”
“Am I being accused of anything else?” I can’t help but think of the men I’ve also attacked.
“No. It’s evident that it was self-defense, as per the witnesses’ testimonies.”
He takes the laptop under his arm and strides towards the door.
“Can I speak to my mom now?”
“You can try, but I’m not sure she’ll respond.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
What on earth does that even mean?
CHAPTER 4
Five years ago
Rebecca
“I don’t even know why I joined this stupid club with you. Rosa thinks you need Tarantino’s skills...”
“Testino,” I correct her and rename my new folder as “Recent Training.” “He’s a photographer, not a gangster.”
Rosa is the head of the photography club that my friend Saza and I joined as freshmen.
Being a freshman in high school is pretty challenging. Just when you think you’ve escaped all the worries, exams, and admissions, you realize there’s an even bigger wave of information you have to absorb. Subjects multiply, teachers start having expectations, especially if you got in with a good grade, and before you know it, you’re buried in responsibilities and assignments all over again.
“Testino, or whatever his name is, thinks we all have to be like him to take some dumb photos. Nothing is good enough for him!”
“If you don’t enjoy photography, why are you here? You could have joined another club.”
“You know very well that I have anxiety when it comes to trying new things.”
“Yeah, right. You get anxious about anything that requires a bit of effort. Admit it, Saza! You only joined because you thought you’d become a pro at editing your Instagram pics like a freaking Kardashian.”
“Photoshop is way more complicated than it looks,” Saza whines like a little kid.
“That girl’s got a whole team behind her, you know,” I say as I sort through my latest pics. “She probably just uses their presets or doesn’t even bother and lets them handle it.”
“I’m seriously getting depressed here! I can’t remember all these freaking details, and by the time I get to the last option, my photo ends up looking like my little brother’s first-grade doodle, when I looked more like Elizabeth Bathory than a glammed-up Saza with a glass of champagne in a tub full of roses.”
“Why the hell did he take pictures of you in a bathtub?” I pause, setting aside my folders and trying to make sense of Saza’s stories. “Wait, don’t tell me!” I exclaim, my mind spinning.
“Cause I wanted to do a fancy bathtub photoshoot, surrounded by rose petals, and he was the one taking the pics.”
