As he walked over to the counter, Adam asked, “What kind of ‘important’ decisions?” He grabbed his coat and put it on. He said, “You keep saying we should meet, but what exactly are you suggesting?”
“During the meeting, I’m going to suggest we cut hours for everyone, we consider laying off nonessential staff, and we organize our cash to see how long we can stay afloat without any more profit. We also have to discuss our contracts with our international partners.”
“Layoffs? Shit,” Adam muttered.
“I know it’s not ideal, but… this isn’t an ideal situation. Besides, it’s just a suggestion right now. Get over here and let’s start working.”
“All right, I’ll see you soon.”
Adam disconnected from the call. He lowered the phone and stared at his warped reflection on the screen. He had been hearing about the virus for months, but he always shrugged it off. It can’t spread here, he had told himself. We’re not a third-world country. He never expected countries around the world to close their borders, but they did and it crippled their business. A domestic lockdown would have killed them off.
“You going to work?” Amber asked.
Voice tight, Adam responded, “Yup.”
“Are you serious? We have an appointment in, like, forty-five minutes. It can’t wait until after that?”
“No, it can’t wait. I’m sorry.”
Amber looked at the television, then back at her husband. She couldn’t hear Dallas’ voice, but she heard enough from Adam to understand the situation.
“It’s getting serious, huh?” she said, pouting.
“Guess so.”
“But we’re okay, aren’t we? We have enough savings to last a few months, don’t we?”
Adam feared the pandemic would have calamitous repercussions on the entire travel industry if it wasn’t solved quickly. They were losing money every day. And if his business folded, he wasn’t sure he could simply go out and find a new job. A primal fear clutched his body. His mouth dried, his skin crawled, and butterflies swarmed in his stomach. He couldn’t admit it to his wife, though.
He saw Riley from the corner of his eye, mashed broccoli smeared on her lips. He was willing to do anything to give her the perfect life—even if it meant firing his entire staff.
He said, “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to talk to Dallas and we’re going to come up with a, uh… with an action plan.” He waved his hand at the TV and said, “You don’t worry about any of this, okay?”
She smacked her lips, then she said, “Of course I’m going to worry about it. I don’t even want to go to this doctor’s appointment anymore. What if we get sick? What if you get sick? Can’t you just have your meeting from home?”
“Just be careful and stay away from people, okay? Um… Wash your hands, wear a mask, don’t touch your face. Oh, and—”
“I know how to take care of us, Adam. I’m just saying: Maybe we shouldn’t be taking so many risks.”
Adam nodded and said, “I get it. I’ll tell Dallas to start setting us up for some remote meetings, but for now, I have to go. We’re running out of time. I’m sorry. Just… be careful.”
Amber bit her lip and nodded, then she said, “You too.”
As he headed to the front door, Adam shouted, “I love you!”
“We love you, too,” Amber said as the door slammed shut behind her husband.
12
A DIFFERENT APPROACH
Miki strolled through the streets of Downtown Los Angeles, studying the consequences of the ongoing pandemic. The crowds thinned due to the absence of international tourists, but the streets were still crowded with traffic. She was delighted to see she wasn’t the only person wearing a mask anymore. She even spotted a peculiar woman in a homemade hazmat suit—face shielded by a cut plastic milk container, body covered in black garbage bags, yellow rubber gloves on her hands.
Miki stopped under a vertical neon sign that read: Kaleo’s. Beside it, another vertical message read: Bar & Lounge. She peeked through the open doors to her right. She could hear women laughing and men hollering under Hawaiian music. There was an old surveillance camera above the entrance. She figured there was no way anyone could identify her in any grainy footage thanks to her mask. She went in and found herself in a crowded tiki bar.
She sat at the bar and ordered a mojito, which she drank through a straw under her mask. She could hear people laughing at her from a table in the corner. She was sure they were laughing at her—or someone—because they were snickering and people snickered when they were mocking others. It wasn’t the same jolly, friendly laughter she had heard before she started drinking. It didn’t bother her, though.
Her ego died with her beauty.
After about ten minutes of drinking alone, a young man named Matt Wolfe approached her. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
“How’s it going?” he asked, leaning against the bar next to her with a cocktail in his hand.
“Fine,” Miki said, avoiding eye contact.
She visited the bar to observe the citizens of Los Angeles. She counted the number of masks she saw in public. She planned on killing more children, but only if she could murder them while wearing her mask. She wanted to be able to lure the children without compromising her identity. She had no interest in Matt.
But Matt was tipsy. He couldn’t take the hint because he didn’t recognize it. If a woman wasn’t screaming ‘get away!’ or ‘stop!’, he felt like he was welcome to continue pestering her.
Matt took a sip of his drink, then he asked, “Aren’t you hot in that?”
“I’m fine,” Miki replied coldly.
“You’re wearing a… Wha–What do you call ‘em? A trench coat? Yeah, you’re wearing a trench coat in here. I mean, look, there’s a fa–fireplace over there. It’s kinda hot in here. Don’t you… You wanna take that off or, um…”
Miki knitted her eyebrows at him and asked, “Are you asking me if I want to take off my coat?”
“Uhh… Yeah?”
“Why?”
“Um… Small talk?”
“That’s your idea of small talk? Walking up to a woman, asking her if she’s hot, and then asking her if she wants to undress herself in public?”
Matt pursed his lips, his brow wrinkled, cheeks inflated, eyes red and glassed over. Then he smirked and shrugged at her before bursting into a chuckle. Miki huffed, then she laughed at him. Although not exactly romantic, their quirky conversation and the bar’s cozy atmosphere reminded her of the first time she met Adam. Nostalgia warmed her body.
Miki removed her jacket, revealing her black long-sleeve dress. She folded her coat and placed it on her lap. While she did that, Matt noticed the dark purple scars on her wrists. They made him shudder. Although she didn’t seem bothered by his staring, Miki adjusted her sleeves to conceal the scars. Scars were easy to remember, and she didn’t need anyone to remember her visit to the bar.
Trying to keep the conversation flowing, Matt said, “My name is Matt. What should I call you?”
“You can call me Miki.”
“That’s a pretty name,” Matt said. “So, uh… what’s the mask for, Miki? Is your face cold, too?”
“I don’t want to get sick,” Miki responded.
“Sick?” he repeated in surprise, as if Miki’s explanation were absurd. He gave her a one-syllable laugh—Ha!—then he said, “Honestly, I thought you were, like, a… I thought you were a doctor when I first saw you. That’s actually why I came over here.”