“Is the insignificant other around?” Seth asked.
“At work. Who’s the chick?”
“Nobody. Ignore her.”
“This is my place of business, man. How do I know she’s clean?”
“You don’t.”
“You think with your dick, man.”
“Hey, can we get on with it? I’ve got deadlines.”
Earl disappeared into the back room. They heard a window open and then the clang of boots ascending a fire-escape ladder. Seth sat next to a peeling radiator pipe on a wiry kitchen table chair.
Seth pointed to the other chair and said, “This may take a while.”
“I’ll stand, thank you.”
“Really, make yourself comfortable. He has to go up to the roof, across two buildings, and down three apartments. Most paranoid fucker I ever met.”
“Paranoia is just another form of awareness. These chairs do not look sturdy.”
“I’ve sat in them a dozen times. They’ve never let me down.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“Suit yourself.”
“You think I’m strange.”
“Well, you’re beautiful-that makes you crazy by default.”
Lelani took her overcoat off, revealing an olive turtleneck knit, blue jeans, and black riding boots. The pattern of her shirt ran vertically, hugging the contours of her body. Seth took measure of her in his professional capacity-too meaty for the scrawny centerfolds in his third-rate periodicals, since the camera added pounds, but perfect in reality.
“You find me comely?” she asked, smiling.
Seth blushed, a first for him. His world was full of promiscuous women, desperate for money, for whom no breach in decorum was likely. Lelani, however, had him on the ropes. He got the impression she knew something he didn’t-something profound. A face like hers could land the cover of Playboy. Red could have any straight man she desired, and convert a few souls from the other team as well. What did she want from him?
“You still think you know me from before the accident that killed my folks?” he asked.
“I recognize many things about you.”
“People change.”
“So far, I haven’t been surprised by what I’ve found. Character stays constant, and you are who you are. Incidentally, what is your trade?”
“‘Mr. Picture Man.’ I’m a photographer.”
“An artist? No one at school expected you to succeed. At anything.”
“We went to school together?”
“The best in Aandor.”
“So I am Canadian?”
Lelani’s watch alarm went off. She pulled a pill case from her satchel. “Does your friend have any tea?”
Seth checked the refrigerator and found a can of iced tea.
“Cold tea?” Lelani said, examining the can.
“Beggars and choosers…”
She placed a purple pill into her mouth, then washed the pill down with the tea. Seth wondered if it was Prozac or some other mind-stabilizing substance.
“Vitamins?” he asked, innocently enough.
“Allergies.”
“Right. So tell me about our school. Did the girls wear those plaid micro skirts?”
“Why you were permitted into our school is a subject of much speculation. There was no evidence that you were intellectually gifted. And no, you are not Canadian.”
“Did you search for me just so you could insult my intelligence?”
“I found you because you have a duty to complete for some very important people, and I intend to see you fulfill it.”
“How could I possibly have had any important obligations at thirteen? Let me guess… I’m royalty.”
Lelani laughed. “Your mother was a tavern wench.”
“… Okay, you’re a time traveler. We have to save the future!”
Her cool manner and the earnestness of her gaze were unsettling. This was either the most amazing prank ever or the woman was deeply disturbed.
“You’re mocking me again,” she said. “You do have a healthy imagination, though. Good thing, because you’ll need it.”
“Now you’re mocking me,” he said, throwing her vernacular back at her.
“Things are seldom what they seem. There are thirteen years of your life which you cannot account for. Open your mind. Your origins will challenge everything you hold to be true-about your role, your world, even your universe.”
Seth burst out laughing. She was a sideshow drama queen; part carnie hack, part Rod Serling. “You’re so full of shit, sister…”
They heard shuffling in the bedroom, the clatter of blinds. Earl reappeared a moment later. He threw a ziplock bag full of herb on the table. “You owe me a hundred.”
“Put it on my tab.”
“Dude, you already owe me for last week. I’m not running a charity.”
“ Dude, I’m tapped out right now. I’m good for it.”
Lelani picked up the bag and examined the contents. She arched an eyebrow at Seth. “Supplies?” The wave of contempt he imagined earlier had returned.
“Look, we have nothing to talk about,” he said, grabbing the bag from her. “You’re a space cadet.”
Lelani pulled out a photograph from her satchel and put it before him on the table-a man and a woman embracing cheek-to-cheek and smiling.
“Who are they?” Earl asked, craning his neck.
Seth was silent. He stared at the photo in disbelief, picked it up with both hands as though to disprove its existence, and fondled the glossy image with his thumb as one would a fine piece of velvet. A match had been lit in the dark recesses of his mind.
“Where the hell did you get this?”
“We have something to talk about after all.”
3
Alphabet City was a freshly shaken snow globe-four inches already on the ground, with no end in sight. Lelani’s hair billowed against the white backdrop of Tompkins Square Park like a flame. Its only competition came from the lights on a fire engine that blared past them on Tenth Street. Lelani refused Seth’s suggestion that they take a taxi back to his apartment.
“I’ll pay,” he insisted.
“I wouldn’t fit.”
“Do you mean physically?”
“Yes.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Quite serious.”
The knowledge she held boosted Seth’s tolerance for her eccentric nature.
“So dish,” he said.
“Dish?”
“How’d you come by a picture of my parents?”
“Parham and Lita Raincrest were not your biological parents.”
Seth’s heart sank into his gut. “I’ve been an orphan my entire life?”
“No. It was a cover. You were part of a group that emigrated here years ago to raise an infant. The environment at home was not safe. We lost contact with the group shortly after your arrival.”
“Where’s the kid now? Where’s the rest of the group?”
“I wish I knew,” she said. “You are the first one I’ve tracked. Luckily, you retained your name.”
A name that belonged to people who allegedly weren’t even his parents, Seth realized. “Who were my parents, then?”
“Your mother is Jessica Granger, a tavern wench at the Grog and Grubb Inn. Your father… unknown. A merchant who visited the pub. Once.”
“What city? Toronto?”
“You are not Canadian.”
From orphan to bastard in less than five minutes, Seth thought. “You said Jessica is my mother.”
“To the best of my knowledge she still works at the Grog.”
The flood of questions came too fast for Seth to absorb: What was his mother like? Was coming to the U.S. his own choice? A fear grew within. To his surprise, Seth realized he was not ready for the whole truth.
“How’d I get into your school?” he asked, changing the subject. “If you’re any indication, it was probably a snob society. ‘Tavern wench’ doesn’t sound like a high-paying career.”
“Magnus Proust gives scholarships to the less fortunate. He believed in your talents…”
“Magnus Proust?” The name rattled around Seth’s mind with no slot to settle in. It sounded more like a new brand of Trojan condom than a headmaster at some elite school.