“I know, right?” Enrique agrees, not letting me answer. “I should get one of those Russian fur hats, but faux fur, not real fur ‘cuz did you see what they do to those poor animals?”
“Enrique, you’re wearing leather boots. That’s cow,” Michael points out with an eye roll.
“But they’re Gucci!”
Pulling the braid from my hair, I run my fingers through it to unbraid it. “Your sense of moral outrage is well placed, Enrique, but I’m about to join your furry little friends if you don’t help me,” I cut in, causing them both to look at me in question.
“What?” Enrique asks, his eyes going wide.
“Three guys tried to jump me on the train on my way home from work this morning before I ran from them. Now, three different guys tried to take me at the club tonight,” I explain in a stream of words. “I think Luther might have shot one of them before I bailed.” Silence greets my explanation as Michael looks at Enrique. “I need a place to crash for a few days. I need to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Luther shot someone?” Enrique asks, his jaw dropping open.
“Yeah…this big one, Kyon. He’s like a giant and he was trying to make me leave with him,” I say breathlessly, feeling a burst of adrenaline at the memory.
“What happened? What did they want? Were they DSS?”
“They’re definitely not social serve-thy-selves and I don’t know what they want exactly—it’s something to do with my family—the ones on the train were—they were like really beautiful—tall, like dark-haired athletes—with these warrior, tribal tats on their necks and eyes the exact shade as mine,” I explain, wrapping my hands around my coffee cup and seeing the ripples in it from my trembling.
“Your family? But I thought…” Enrique’s question fades.
“They knew my parents’ names and everything, but they could’ve gotten that out of my file at DSS.” I continue. “The other ones at the club were blond, blue-eyed, but otherwise they could’ve been from the same mold as the guys on the train…except…” I trail off.
“Except what?” Michael asks.
“Except, the ones on the train didn’t try to lie to me. They said they were going to take me to my family where I could ‘pay for my crimes,’” I tell them.
“Pay for your crimes?” Enrique’s voice gets higher with agitation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, but they were being truthful,” I state, feeling my mouth go dry so I take a sip of my coffee.
“How do you know they were being truthful?” Michael asks, looking from me to Enrique.
“Ah, you gotta show him, Kricket. I can’t explain it ‘cuz he won’t believe me,” Enrique says to me before he turns to Michael. “She has like a radar for bullshit. Here—tell her some things about you and she’ll tell you if you’re telling the truth or if you’re lying.”
“Serious?” Michael asks as his eyebrows go up.
“As camel toe,” Enrique replies.
“Um…okay…hmmm…I’m a young republican.” He watches my face.
“True,” I reply, hearing Enrique choke on his coffee.
“You’re what!” Enrique scowls at Michael, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Oh my Gawd, why?”
“I support the NRA,” Michael continues, ignoring Enrique’s derisive tone.
“True,” I reply. Enrique’s eyes widen even further.
“I’m out,” Michael says, looking in my eyes.
“Lie.”
“I have a sister named Beth,” he says.
“Lie,” I reply.
“I’m for real about Enrique,” Michael says softly, looking down.
“True,” I reply, watching Enrique’s frown soften.
“How do you do that?” Michael asks me, sounding awed.
I shrug. “I could always do it, but it’s not absolute. I can’t tell you why you’re lying…I also have trouble discerning a lie from someone who is drunk because the signals fluctuate…it messes me up. And I only know if you’re lying, not whether it’s the truth. You can believe something to be true, but you could be wrong…you see what I’m saying?”
“Yes, it’s still a little subjective,” he replies, and I nod my head in agreement. “So the men on the train were telling the truth?”
“Yes, Trey was one of the ones on the train, but the one in the bar, Kyon, lied,” I say, paling.
“What did he say?” Enrique asks, his brows pushing down.
“He was truthful when he said they wanted to take me to my family, but he lied when he said they were my friends,” I explain, feeling ill.
“So, no glad tidings from home?” Michael asks. I shake my head slowly. “When did your parents die?”
“When I was young—five…I remember them a little, but it was just us, no one else.” My mother’s beautiful platinum hair flitters through my memory. “I can’t recall any other family…I don’t know what these men are talking about.” I drop my chin, not looking at them because I’ve always hidden my odd characteristics from others. I’ve never told Enrique about how my hair re-grows instantly because there’s been no good explanation for it.
Enrique’s expression becomes one of resolve. “Kricket, you’re coming home with me and we’ll figure out what to do. Do they know where you live?”
“Yeah…Kyon, that’s the one at Lumin. He must’ve known because I live right above there,” I reply in a raspy voice. “Luther shot him.” My throat begins to close as the shock of what happened is now wearing off. “The police are probably looking for me. I left my backpack there. They’ll find everything I’ve worked so hard to hide.” I think of the keys to my apartment. Someone from the bar will tell them where I’ve been living, believing that they’re helping me.
Tears that I can’t hold back fill my eyes. Reaching across the table, Enrique takes my hand. “Maybe we should go to the police station. Maybe you’ll be safer with them.
Pulling my hand back from his grasp, I wipe my eyes on the back of my fists, feeling embarrassed by my tears. “It depends on where they put me. Since I’m a runaway, I’ll probably be put into corrections. If that happens, I probably won’t last until my birthday,” I say honestly.
“Why not?” Michael frowns.
“’Cuz I look like Barbie.” I reply, knowing they can connect the dots.
“Bad girls don’t like Barbie?” Michael asks, both his eyebrows rising.
“No. Bad girls want to rip Barbie’s head off and flush it down the toilet,” I state emphatically, with a half grimace. “I might have a chance in a fight if it’s one-on-one, but that rarely happens. Usually, it’s a pack and they have someone distract the guards. You can see it coming and have no way to stop it.”
“What do you mean?” Enrique’s mouth is open in shock. I lift up my shirt, exposing my abdomen and show them the scar in my side. Enrique gasps, putting both his hands to his mouth.