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“I’m here!” He mimics my tone, kissing me on the temple.
These boys are like brothers to me.
“Let’s get ready!!” Emerson bangs his drumsticks together.
“Lily?” A voice that isn’t from the band calls me. It’s Helen, the receptionist.
“Yes, Helen?” I dart in her direction.
“You have a package.” She hands me a shoe box sized pack wrapped in manila paper.
“Uh, a gift from a fan?” Michael says, teasing me. “Open, open!”
But I have a bad feeling about this.
“It smells bad…” I say, twisting my nose.
Sandra comes in a hurry and takes the package out of my hands.
“Should we call the police?”
“Sandra, if it’s a bomb we shouldn’t be jostling this thing around like that!” I say, with plenty of apprehension pumping in my veins.
But Sandra doesn’t listen to me. She brings the box to her face, her nose twisting just like mine did. She then shakes it near her ear, and tsks her tongue as she does so.
“It’s not a bomb,” she says with confidence. “Let’s open it carefully, shall we?”
Everybody gives her space as she sets the package on the floor and leans down to force it open. Paper and cardboard are ripped, and when she gets to the inside, the first thing I see is a cold, dead tail.
I scream at the sight. “A dead rat?!”
My disgust mixes with my shock, and I’m not sure if I need to puke or to cry.
“Helen, garbage bin.” Sandra points, serious.
“There’s more in here!” Chris leans forward to pick up the box.
Emerson steps in next, grabbing the final detail inside the box. “There’s a note.”
“Read it,” Sandra orders, red-faced and looking like a volcano about to explode.
“’I know you now have men at your apartment,” Chris clears his throat uncomfortably. “That’s all it says.”
Now I am truly crying, dead scared for my life.
“This is… This is the most serious one yet,” I say, covering my mouth.
Sandra comes to me and hugs me tight, and I collapse into tears against her shoulder.
“Somebody call the police. I’m going to call my brother.” Sandra says with a voice of command. “Now, let’s get you a seat, sweetie.”
She guides me back to the lounge. Somebody fetches me a cup of water, and I clutch it as if I’m drowning and it’s a life raft.
Sandra sits by my side and holds my hand while she calls Brody - after a while he picks up, and she puts him on speaker.
“Brody, we have a problem,” Sandra says, dark.
“What happened?” He says, just as somber.
