Reading with Rasta: The Next Witness by Kirstyn Petras
Welcome to this episode of Reading with Rasta. Today, I will be reading The Next Witness by Kirstyn Petras. Chapter 1.
April 2093
Alexander Covington leaned against the metal rail, a flask in his hand. He had left his car parked on the side of the bridge, not bothering with the hazards. At this time of day, who was going to disturb him?
Dawn light peaked over the horizon, casting a pinkish glow on Alexander’s skin. He lifted the flask to his lips, the alcohol burning his throat. He wasn’t aware of the taste, more so of the way it made his hand stop shaking. His hair had gone almost entirely gray these past months, his jacket hanging off his bones.
“I don’t know why you wanted it to be here,” he said, speaking towards the sky. “There were so many other places, so many other ways.” No one answered him, the sound of a car driving past the only response.
“You know, I thought about writing you a letter,” Alexander half-laughed, blinking away the tear forming in the corner of his eye, “like she does. But that seemed too….” He didn’t know the word, and he let it go. “I started one, about five times, but anyway.” He shook his head. “It would feel like I was saying what she did made sense.” He looked down at his fingers clasped around the flask.
Another car whipped by, and he could feel the wind against the back of his neck. He was talking just to say something, and he cleared his throat. He still wasn’t sure why he was doing this.
“I know we haven’t, we were hard on each other, but,” He ran a hand over his face, “You…I think….” He stopped again and took a breath.
“It’s not like it matters.” He looked over his left shoulder, at the small metal canister by his elbow. “And you had fucked up tastes in friends.” He took a smaller swig, before tilting the flask upside down, and letting some of the contents fall into the water below the bridge.
“I’m glad, at least, I think I’m glad, I knew you,” he said. “Though I’m still not sure if you deserved better, or if this is too generous.”
Alexander opened the canister, to the pile of ashes inside. He stuck his finger in his mouth, and held it out, feeling for the wind. He held the canister out over the side and tilted it so the ashes tipped down towards the river.
He watched as some were carried away by the wind, lost to the currents they could not fight. Alexander tried to hold up the flask once more to the sunlight, but his arm did not want to lift; energy failing to move his limb. He shook his head, hunched his shoulders against the cool morning air, and turned back to his car, away from the water below.
June 2092: I
The music started softly; a guitar and bass playing a mellow tune. Melody paid it little attention, staring blankly out the window. It was open, trying to coax in a non–existent breeze. The summer air was stagnant around her, sticking to her skin, making her lungs feel heavy as they worked to inhale against the humidity.
The boy—she had already forgotten his name—straightened up from the speakers, wiping the remnants of white powder away from the bridge of his nose. He took a step, so he was standing behind her.
“What are you looking at?” he asked, craning his head down so it was all but resting on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Nothing,” Melody sighed, leaning her head against his chest.
“Good.” He began kissing up her neck, and she closed her eyes.
The sirens blasted, covering the music. The boy pushed her against the wall as they kissed. She started unbuttoning his shirt, focusing on his lips, his chest, anything to block out the blaring sound outside.
The inhuman voice: “Curfew is in effect. Curfew is in effect.”
Melody placed her hands on the boy’s shoulders, steering him towards the bed. He fell back, and they broke apart as she removed her shirt. Her skin shone in the light of the window, a bead of sweat running between her breasts. He reached for her, his hands pulling her on top of him, her mouth trailing down to his chest. His lips hovered at her ear, whispering nonsense words of desire.
The siren burst through the night, serving a final warning shot. The boy flipped Melody over and started to remove his jeans. He looked into her face, a slightly vacant smile on his lips. He started to kiss her neck again. The noise outside was gone. All she could feel was the steady thrum of music, her breathing, his lips, and his teeth on her skin. She reveled in the near silence, wrapping one hand into his hair, the other digging its nails into his back. She relaxed into his arms, letting herself drift, until the sound of screaming pierced the air.
“No, no! I’m just going right there, I’m sorry!” The man outside screamed again, his pain audible to anyone on the block. Melody tensed underneath the boy’s body, her eyes flickering open, looking towards the window.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, leaning back to look at her. Melody grimaced, but let her hand linger on his back. “Bit of a mood killer, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah.” He leaned over her towards the bedside table, picked up the remote, and aimed it at the speakers. The volume of the music rose, the bass increasing, and he tossed the remote aside. “There,” and he leaned down towards her again. She closed her eyes and focused on him, her heartbeat, and the feel of him around her. She hardly even noticed when the screaming faded away.
The clock was ticking on the wall, the second hand moving in time with the dull thud in the front of Melody’s head. The clicking of Lucy’s pen had joined about three minutes ago, every other ‘tick’ matching with the retracting or emerging pen tip. Melody stared at the document open on her computer, the words against the translucent glass screen blending into a cacophony of nonsense that made her brain feel too large for her skull. She couldn’t even blame it on a hangover. It was just the morbidity of this assignment.
Her phone had rung almost the second curfew was lifted, a frantic Lucy on the other side already scrambling to sort out the budget proposal changes that their boss, Senator Arshem, was submitting to the Governmental Affairs committee.
“And we still have to get that speech ready for the amendment hearing and he sent it all to me at 2AM and asked why it wasn’t done and—”
Melody had been leaning on her elbow in the boy’s bed, one eye squinting to look out the window and see dawn light spilling into the room. She wasn’t even sure what part of town she was in, and now she had to get her ass to Capitol Hill.
“Okay, okay,” she’d said, her voice still groggy with sleep. She looked to make sure the boy was still sleeping, before lifting the covers off herself and beginning to pick up various articles of clothing. “I’m on my way.”
“Thanks, Mel,” Lucy sounded like she was about to cry, “Just, hurry, please?”
“Yeah,” Melody had hung up the phone, grabbing her things as quickly and as quietly as she could. She hadn’t wanted him waking up. Didn’t want him asking where she was going or pretending to care. She’d slipped out of the bedroom and to the bathroom, looking around at the shower desperately in need of a clean. She’d found a towel on the back of the door, and some soap on the edge of the tub. It was not ideal, she’d thought, giving the towel a questioning sniff, but going into work with last night’s makeup under her eyes was also not an option. And that was that.
Now she was sitting at her desk with her long blonde hair in a still-damp braid, wearing yesterday’s clothes, which, thankfully, had at least included a blazer as her jacket. Clearly not how she had envisioned the morning going.
Her original plan was to sneak off after curfew, though at a slightly more reasonable hour, go home, get ready, and meet Leo for breakfast. Leo’s father, Greg, worked as a grocery store manager, and was able to sneak primo products away from time to time. Leo had been excited that the latest batch of Canadian maple syrup had cleared customs (i.e., hadn’t all been taken by border patrol, or state patrols between the border and D.C.) and he was dead set on making a giant pancake breakfast for the family. And now she was going to have to show up hours late smelling like sandalwood and wrinkled clothes with bags under her eyes and a pounding headache that would not be solved by Leo entering overbearing-big-brother-mode and telling her she was being a…
Well. He’d never actually said the word.
The speech was still staring at her, and she took a deep breath, trying to focus. A carved eagle above the clock stared down at her with beady eyes, cameras capturing every move in the office. If she was stuck like this, she’d at least move her mouse around occasionally, pretend to type, something to make it look like she was being productive.
But we have spent too many of our resources investigating Party children who wish to deviate from this pattern, who believe they deserve special training in order to switch branches. Too much time on those who demand special treatment for their own inadequacies and failures as American citizens. We as a great nation ought not to be measured by the whining of those who do not understand how lucky they are to be separated from their counterparts by their inherited party status.
Redundant motherfucker, Melody thought, erasing some of the sentences. The speech was for the hearing for Senator Arshem’s latest amendment on the Party Kids system. Officially known as the Government Professional Continuation Strategy, the current law ensured that any child born to a parent of Party status was automatically a Party member as well, and should that parent work in any government capacity, their child would attend training upon graduating high school to join the same branch of government as their parent in whatever capacity they chose. However, they could switch branches if they went through extra training and proved themselves capable. Arshem, as far as Melody knew, had never had a problem with the system prior to her hiring. But now that he was stuck with a Party Kid who had switched, well, he didn’t want anyone questioning just how loyal he was to Our Dear Jamison and his country.
So Melody, on what was supposed to be her day off, was now editing a speech all about how much of a bitch she, and others like her, were, while waiting for Leo to berate her for fucking a stranger, and listening to Lucy’s goddamn pen clicking on and on and…
“Lucy, please, stop,” she hissed through gritted teeth at Lucy, head snapping to the side. Lucy jumped about a foot in the air, frantically glanced up at the eagle camera, and then back to Melody.
“Sorry,” she mouthed, her big brown puppy dog eyes growing wide with apology, dropping the pen onto her desk.
Melody sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “It’s fine,” she whispered, and deleted a few more words on the document in front of her.
The sound of footsteps could be heard from the other side of the large oak doors, and Melody immediately stood up and moved to the wall, pressing herself against it as though she could disappear into the shadows.
“Well of course I’m not underestimating the problem, I’m saying that those are the numbers I can realistically attempt for.” Arshem entered the office with two men trailing behind him. One looked to be a bit older than Melody, maybe late twenties, with shaggy brown hair, wearing a walnut-colored leather jacket with a policeman’s badge hanging by a chain around his neck. The other looked about a decade older than that, with slicked back dark hair, a light gray suit, and shiny black tie.
“I understand that but—”
“I know, Detective, that you have been reviewing these budgeting concerns for quite some time, but I can’t imagine what the Chief thinks I can do for you. We’re strung up tight enough as is before you come in asking about what should be a state-level issue.”
“But—” The detective tried again, but Arshem cut him off.
“Ah, Lucy,” he said, turning to her desk, “Do you have the budgets ready?”
“Yes sir,” she said quickly, pressing a button and immediately they could hear the printer whirring behind her.
“And… Karsh? What are you doing here?”
“Working on the speech for the amendment hearing, sir,” Melody looked towards his chest, her head slightly bowed.
“I told Lucy to do that,” Arshem said, frowning at her. “You weren’t supposed to be in today.”
“Lucy asked me for a hand, it’s no trouble—”
“I didn’t say it was trouble for you. Give it to Lucy when you’re done. She needs to review it before I see it.” Melody nodded, already tuning him out. If she gave Lucy everything Arshem asked her to, Lucy would have died from exhaustion months ago. She was barely hanging on as it was. Arshem gestured to the two men behind him. “Detective Covington, Officer Madden, these are my aides Lucy Moore and Melody Karsh.” Melody barely acknowledged them, already sliding back towards her chair to sit down the second Arshem was out of the room.
“Karsh, since you’re here, get some coffee for us,” Arshem snapped at her. Melody nodded at no one in particular and left to get the pot. Down the hall, to the right, she entered the small station room aides used for exactly this task. Melody looked through the cabinets and found one of the nicer trays, silver carafe, white porcelain cups and saucers, and little spoons. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she set the little bowls of sugar and artificial creamer, before pouring the coffee into the carafe, and set some shortbread cookies on a plate. Tray set, she carefully walked back to Arshem’s office, knocked lightly twice, and entered.
She made to walk in and out, setting the tray down as quickly as was safe. Covington and Arshem didn’t pause their conversation, continuing on about rising crime rates or something similar, she couldn’t quite tell. Officer Madden was already reaching for a cup as she straightened back up. He looked up at her, his green eyes meeting her blue ones, and raised the cup slightly towards her, a silent gesture of thanks. She gave him a quick nod and turned back around.
Melody closed the door to the office behind her and leaned against it, letting out a sigh, before returning to her chair.
Lucy inched her chair a few inches towards Melody, turning slightly. “Melody,”
Melody gave her a quick look.
“You okay?”
She nodded, her eyes back on the screen.
“Do you know them?” Lucy asked, head tilting back towards Arshem’s door. Melody shook her head. “Seemed kind of…harsh, I guess.” Lucy frowned. Melody nodded.
“Yeah, a little,” The words on the screen were blurring again, and she shut her eyes tight, squeezing the lids together. She opened them, willing herself to focus, to get through the next however many pages, as quickly as possible.
Melody knocked on Leo’s door, already picturing the exasperated look that would greet her on the other side. He opened the door after the third knock. His face, young for a twenty-one- year-old, had fallen from a bright smile into the scowl he reserved only for her. She could spot a few bits of egg in his short, untidy brown hair. He wasn’t all that much taller than her, but in this instance, the few inches made her feel like he was towering over her. He raised his eyebrows, taking in messy, now quite frizzy, braid, her wrinkled clothes, the makeup free face.
“I’m—”
“Save it,” he sighed. “Come in.” He held open the door for her and she slid past him. The smell of pancakes greeted her, stacked up in a pan. The rest of the white and baby blue kitchen had been destroyed by his cooking. A stack of fried eggs sat on a plate. Dishes were piled everywhere: batter and eggshells littered the countertops. She reached up to his hair and pulled out the bits of food.
“You didn’t finish cooking yet?”
“I didn’t know how long you’d be,” he shrugged, moving back to the stove where a couple pancakes sat bubbling in the pan, just waiting to be flipped. “Besides, it’s been too hot, I’ve been doing it in bursts.”
“Sure,” she sat down at the table. “Where are your parents? I thought they were joining us?”
“Dad had the afternoon shift, so I made him something earlier. But Mom has been working on campus all day too.”
“Liz went in on a Saturday?” Liz was an art history professor at American University. If she was working during the weekend, it was grading papers in her armchair with a gallon of coffee by her side.
“Yeah, Mom wanted to switch some of her lesson plans around, so they have to approve it before Monday,” he explained, “American added a course to her schedule two weeks before the semester started. They didn’t approve the old instructor’s syllabus and fired him. So, she’s basically been building the class along week by week.”
“That sucks.”
“Oh yeah. We’ll have wine ready for her when she comes home.” Leo placed some pancakes and eggs on a plate and handed it to Melody, who was distracted from his story by the glass bottle of syrup sitting on the table.
“Oh wow, you actually did get it!”
Leo grinned, “Dad managed to sneak it out yesterday before it went on the shelves.”
Melody took the bottle and poured a tiny amount onto the plate. She then picked up the plastic bottle of imitation syrup and poured a much larger amount. She cut a piece off of a pancake and combined the two together on the bite. She smiled at him, as he did the same.
He stared at her, hard for a moment. She was pretty sure if he could, he’d be sniffing her like a bomb sniffing dog. “Sean again?”
Melody shook her head. “Don’t know his name. Ryan, maybe?”
“You know you’re being stupid.”
“I’ve made a note of it.” They looked at each other across the table.
“Fine,” he sighed, taking a large bite.
“Fine,” she echoed, staring down at her plate. They’d had this talk before; the conversation was as repetitive and familiar as a game of catch, and if they let it continue, never ended in a pleasant manner. And she was really, really not in the mood for his moral righteousness.
Leo took a breath and cut another piece of pancake off.
“So, how was work?”
Melody felt some of the tension in her shoulder release. “Sooner this fucking hearing is over, the better. Maybe then he’ll stop trying to convince everyone he’s not to blame for getting stuck with the devil’s daughter.”
Leo snorted. “Yeah, I was going to say, those horns are really protruding today.”
Melody stuck her tongue out at him,
“Mature,” he laughed.
“Extremely. Always.” Melody took another bite of food, the sweetness of the syrup lingering on her tongue.
“I’m honestly surprised that Arshem is letting you in the room for that hearing, that’s he’s letting you touch any of it.”
“Lucy made the point that if I’m in the room, if he can say I’ve been helping, it looks like I agree with it. It’s pointless, the whole thing is going to take five minutes for the group of them to stroke themselves and say ‘patriotism’ as they turn an eagle whiter.”
“I’m sorry, Mel. You’ll stick around tonight, right? We’ll watch a movie or something, snag some of Mom’s wine. It’ll be fun.”
“Raincheck? I’m going out tonight.”
“Again?” Leo asked, his eyebrows were creeping upwards once more. “Whatever. Be careful, okay?”
“Oh, come on, at least add a ‘Have fun,’ first.”
“If I thought you did it for fun, I wouldn’t be concerned.”
Melody set her jaw, staring down at her plate, her fork picking at the food. Leo finished his meal in a similar silence, and Melody stood up to pick up her bag with half her pancakes untouched.
“Melody,” He sounded exasperated, watching her shove her sunglasses back on. “I’m just saying you need to take a night off. What, I can’t tell you what I think anymore?”
She cast him one last glance but said nothing, shutting the door a little too loudly behind her.
“Thanks,” said Melody, downing the whiskey in one. It burned her throat slightly, but it warmed her stomach in just the right way. Before she could ask, Rose, her favorite bartender at Black Thorn, grabbed the glass back and poured her another.
“You looked like you needed it.” Rose grinned. “So, what’s the plan? Staying up here and attempting to lure with your charm?”
“Am I not always charming?” Melody asked, and Rose laughed. She took a much smaller sip and looked around, taking in the crowd. The bar wasn’t too busy yet, but it was Saturday evening and sure to fill up soon. She wasn’t sure if she was in the mood for it tonight. Maybe she should’ve just stayed in for a glass of wine with Leo. “Actually, I’m meeting someone in a bit.”
“Ah, okay. Let me know when you need more.”
“Will do,” Melody smiled and slid off the barstool, walking over to a table closer to the entrance to the bar. She did like this spot. It was close to home, and she’d been coming here so long that they never bothered to check her ID anymore.
She leaned against the leather of her seat and checked her phone. Sean was running late, as he often did. On cue, her phone started vibrating.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sam, what’s up?” Samantha, the name written on her fake ID. No one here had ever called her Melody.
“Nothing, just sitting at Black Thorn. I’m towards the front when you get here.”
“Cool. Look, I know this probably isn’t what you had in mind, but can a couple of my friends join us?” Sean’s voice had lowered, and she suspected they were nearby, “One of them, he’s been having a really tough time at work, and I mean, you didn’t want us, I mean, we’re—”
“No, I get it. Yeah, it’ll be fine. But we can go a bit early then, yeah? Not really up for that much socializing, you know?”
“Yeah, all good. We’ll just be another minute.”
“Cool, see you in a bit.” Melody sighed. It was true. She didn’t exactly let these guys say that they were dating (mostly because she didn’t consider it dating), and she didn’t like others being brought into it. It tended to complicate matters. More people to lie to: fake names, fake pasts, all of it. She considered just getting up and leaving, but she didn’t want to risk running into them on the way out. Besides, she did want his company tonight.
Sean came in, immediately spotted her, and smiled. As he waved to the people coming in behind him, Melody felt her chest constrict. There were very few times in her life where she’d thought to herself, so help me, Leo was right. But watching Officer Madden walk into the bar next to Sean broke the top five, easy.
Madden brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking around the bar, as another guy Melody had never seen took the seat diagonal to her. Sean came around to her side of the table and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Madden met Melody’s eyes for the briefest of moments before saying, “Looks like she’s already ahead of us. I need a beer. Derek, what about you?”
“Oh same,” said the other boy. “Sean?”
“Yeah, oh, Sam, this is Logan, and Derek. Guys, this is
Sam.” Sean said, gesturing to Officer Madden and then the other boy. She focused her attention on Derek, and she forced herself to return his smile. Fear pulsed through her as she gave Logan a brief half glance of acknowledgment.
“I’ll go get this round,” Sean said, noticing nothing. “You need anything?” He asked Melody, who shook her head. Derek stood too, offering to help him carry. Melody opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again, instead focusing on her drink, and avoiding Logan’s eyes.
“So, you’re the Sam I’ve been hearing about?” Logan asked.
She barely nodded.
“The 23-year-old accountant he met oh…three months ago?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I happen to know Arshem’s assistants are 25 and 20.” He said, tilting his head to the side. “So, I’m guessing you’ve got a damn good fake.”
She knew she had to respond, but it felt like the words were stuck in the back of her throat.
“Are you going to speak?” she thought she heard laughter in his voice. She managed to look up at him.
“If you’re going to arrest me, you might want to do it now, before he wastes his money,” she said quietly.
The officer frowned, scratching a spot on his chin. “Why Sam?”
She shrugged.
“That’s not an answer.” His voice was colder, and she looked away again, checking that Sean and Derek were still waiting at the bar.
“I didn’t choose it,” she said.
“Let me see it,” he demanded.
She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She opened the zipper pocket, pulled out the fake ID, and passed it to him. He raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never seen one this good.” He murmured. He made no gesture to hand it back. She hadn’t expected him to.
“I’m not telling you where it came from,” she said, shoving her wallet back into her bag. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, why he wasn’t immediately taking her in.
“I won’t ask you to.” He stared at her. “Though I am curious why, as a Party member, you’d risk this. You know it’s an offense to lie about Party status. If anyone else found that, investigation for espionage and treason would be the least of your concerns.”
“Anyone else?” She couldn’t keep the hope out of her voice. More questions were forming in her mind, but hearing the others come back silenced them. Sean handed Logan his drink.
“Thanks,” Logan said, as though nothing odd had just happened. “Appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, after the week you’ve had.” Sean sighed.
“Yeah, what’s been happening? All I heard was Covington’s been on your ass,” Derek said.
“Well, that’s pretty much all there is to it. He’s still pissed he’s got some ‘junior’ to take care of when he’s just made Detective. Wants to deal with big cases, to cut his teeth. But they stuck him with training me.” Logan sighed. “And he’s basically just been given research assignments and begging Congress for more money since he was promoted. Judicial branch bitch work, essentially, most of which he keeps trying to filter down to me.
Derek sighed, “You knew this could happen when you went for Judicial, though.”
“Logan’s a Party Kid,” Sean explained, in response to Melody’s quizzical look.
“Yeah, his parents were in Executive.” Derek said, “But he went for Judicial instead.”
“Ah,” she said before taking another sip. She wasn’t sure how people outside of the Party system normally reacted to that information. She didn’t want to risk too strong or weak of a reaction. Drinking more seemed easiest.
“You had a meeting on the Hill today, didn’t you?” Sean asked. “How’d that go?”
Logan let out a snort. “Yeah, so Senator Arshem, the guy we were meeting with today, is on the Governmental Affairs and Crime and Terrorism committees. He said that if Covington helped him to do some ‘research’ for this bill he’s proposing, he’d lobby Crime and Terrorism for D.C. getting some more money from the federal budget. I sincerely doubt he’s going to do it, but our captain told Covington to agree and that’s the end of it.” He met Melody’s gaze out of the corner of his eye and continued, “Arshem’s bill would take out the option for Party Kids to switch branches. One of his assistants switched. Her dad was in Judicial. Arshem fucking hates her.” He let out a half laugh and took a large sip of his drink.
“Wait, wait,” Derek looked confused, “Is he having you ‘research’ his assistant?”
Melody chose not to look at Logan, instead casting Sean a quick glance as his hand rested on her thigh.
“No, not yet, anyway.” Logan said, “He’s just having Covington get him whatever stats he can about Party Kids who switch. He’s afraid if his assistant is arrested, it’ll look bad on him for not catching her himself. So, we’re leaving her alone.”
Melody didn’t dare let out of the sigh of relief she desperately wanted to, instead taking a long sip of whiskey.
“You know, I do need another,” she said. “I’ll be right
back.” She stood up from the table, and walked quickly over to the bar, catching Rose’s eye. In far too little time, she was making her way back to sit beside Sean and was more than a little annoyed to hear they were still talking about the amendment hearing. She’d had more than enough of it today. She looked up at Sean and leaned in closer to his ear. A few whispered words, and his fingers were trailing towards her inner thigh.
“Soon,” he said quietly. “Very soon.”
She gave him a smile, trying to tune out Derek, who for goodness knew what reason, was still talking.
“What’s even the point of that bill?” Derek frowned, “If it’s already such a bitch to switch branches, there can’t be too many people who’d even want to try. Why take away the option?”
“Derek—”
“No, I’m serious! Why be such an asshole about it? Does he really think that’s how the government is being infected? Kids trying to do more work?”
“Derek!” Sean hissed, but Derek wasn’t listening. Melody’s nerves were already on edge, and they couldn’t risk any more attention being brought to their table. She caught the gaze of one man looking directly at them. He looked away when she made eye contact, but she knew he was still listening.
“This fucking system, getting all these Party Kids to sell their souls before they’re even born—”
But Logan kicked Derek under the table, finally silencing him. Sean scowled, staring daggers at Derek. Melody cleared her throat and tried to tilt her head towards the man listening.
Derek’s face grew slightly red. He spoke quickly and a bit more loudly. “I’m sure it’s all in the best interest. President Jamison is a visionary in that sense—”
“Damn it if that isn’t true!” said a different man at the next table, raising his glass.
Logan copied him, and began to yell, “TO THE PRESIDENT, TO THE STARS AND STRIPES.”
Everyone began to stand, and shout along with him, “TO THE EAGLE, AND THE LAND!” And everyone drank as one.
Melody relaxed a bit as the other man settled comfortably back into his seat. She looked over at Derek who was gulping down his drink. Logan was pointedly avoiding her gaze as well. Sean still glared at Derek, and Melody excused herself to the bathroom to escape the awkwardness of the table.
“You good?” Sean asked her as she lay back against his pillows staring at the ceiling. He was leaning against the window, rolling himself a cigarette.
“What was up with Derek?” She asked.
“Nothing,” he said bluntly.
“Yes, Logan started the toast out of sheer patriotism, not to help cover his friend’s ass.”
Sean snorted at her sarcastic tone but wouldn’t meet her gaze. “He’s got…”
“Got what?”
“Look, we don’t really talk about it, but we don’t shut him down either unless…” There was something on the tip of his tongue, and she knew she could probably pry it out of him if she tried. She felt he liked her enough to tell her his thoughts, but she didn’t like to think where the conversation could lead, if she could stay in character, or how she’d start digging into it. Melody decided to let the silence hang in case he felt like saying anything else. Eventually, he continued, “His grandfather was alive, when, you know, the War happened.”
He fumbled with the cigarette, the cream of the paper contrasting with the darkness of his skin. She stared at his fingers as they tried to roll the paper and not lose the tobacco. She held out her hand to him and he placed it in her palm. His eyes focused on her tongue as it traced along the edge of the paper before she motioned for him to continue speaking.
“I guess, well, he didn’t really talk to Derek—he was smart enough not to. But, it seems he let things slip out here and there, and it got into Derek’s kid brain. Derek’s usually smart enough to not talk about it in front of people. And sometimes…” Sean paled, and she could see fear flit across his eyes. She handed him back the cigarette, but he didn’t immediately light it. He held it up to his mouth and shook his head. He placed the cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill and sat back on the bed beside her. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, his thumb rubbing a circle on her skin. “I don’t know, the guy’s an idiot. Besides, I can think of something I’d much rather be doing than talking about him.” He bent down to kiss her, and she closed her eyes and let him.
The buzzer sounding in the morning was nothing short of a foghorn in her ears. Melody picked herself up from the couch, knocking over a bottle in the process. The sound of it smashing did nothing to help her head. “Oh, fuck off,” she muttered as the buzzer screeched through the apartment again. She stumbled to the phone and grabbed it in a frantic attempt to stop the noise. “What?” She hissed.
“Melody, open the damn door.” It was Leo.
“No.”
“Open it or I will just keep pressing the buzzer.”
“I hope you die,” she said as she pressed the button to let him in. She unlocked the apartment door and then collapsed onto the sofa again.
Leo shut the door gently behind him when he came in, bringing the lovely smell of coffee with him. He crept to the couch and placed the cup on the coffee table in front of her, letting the scent waft to her nose.
“You going to tell me what happened?” He asked. She made an incoherent grunting sound.
“You know I shouldn’t be nice to you. You’re supposed to text me after you go out that you’re alive. I had to call your office, and Lucy told me that you’d called out today.”
“Yeah well, they took my Saturday.”
“You never call out sick. What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t go back to the office yet.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.” She pulled a pillow over her head and rolled over.
“You know I’m just going to stay here until you talk.”
“Unfortunately, yeah, I do.”
“How bad?” He asked. Melody shrugged, though the gesture lost most of its effect, hidden by the cushion.
“That doesn’t answer the question.” He pulled the pillow away and glared down at her.
“A detective and his junior came into the office Saturday to meet with Arshem. Was introduced to them. Turned out the officer is friends with Sean. The officer and this other guy, another friend, tagged along for drinks. He knew my name wasn’t Sam— took my ID. He didn’t out me, but he knows something’s up. Him and his boss are working with Arshem doing research on the Party Kids amendment; Arshem had told them to leave me alone, but who knows if they listened to him, or if Arshem will change his mind. So yes, I’ve been hiding. Happy?”
“No, you idiot, I am not happy.” Leo grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. “So instead of calling me so we could sort this out, you spent the entire night drinking? You know that affects me too? Not to mention my mom and dad. What were you thinking?”
“I did not spend the entire night drinking.” She wrenched her arm away from him, “I didn’t get any sleep. I cleared out the apartment of all booze, hid Mom’s letters, then was trying to take a nap when you called. I’ve been trying not to contact anyone. I don’t want to be dragging anyone else into this mess in case they had someone watching the place.”
“Oh,” he said, deflating. He looked down at the ground, at the broken bottle on the floor. “What’s this then?” He pointed an accusatory finger at the ground.
“It was juice, you asshole.” She practically jumped off the couch and stalked into the kitchen, digging under the sink for a pan to sweep it into.
“Ah. Okay. Look, Mel—”
“Just go,” she snapped.
“No, look—”
“No, you ‘look.’ I am not dealing with you accusing me or yelling at me about this or any of it right now, okay? I was going to check in in a few days, after they’d had plenty of time to decide whether or not to go pounding down my door. So, if all you’re going to do is condescend to me about things I already know, you can just fuck right off, Leo.” She knelt down and started to sweep the pieces of glass into the pan.
He didn’t move for a few moments, but then spoke again. “Melody, listen—”
She glared up at him, her look making him stop mid-sentence.
“Go,” she said again, and turned her gaze back to the floor. He waited another moment, but when it became clear she had nothing more to say, he started for the door.
She dropped the dustpan and sat down on the couch. She pulled her legs to her chest and pressed her head to her knees. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe. She felt herself calm down, her heart rate slow, and her breathing return to normal. She let herself linger there—safe for the moment—before returning to the mess.
It was true, that she had gotten rid of all the booze bottles during the night. She’d left Sean’s apartment as soon as curfew had ended, and she’d come back to pace around the apartment. She tried to pour herself a drink, but her hands shook so badly the bottle had fallen and smashed. She’d stared into the sink, watching her blood swirl in with the brown liquid down the drain. After wrapping up the cut, she’d thrown everything away. Surely, if the cops came for her, any evidence against her found in the house would just make it worse. Underage drinking wasn’t a major crime, but it wouldn’t exactly help her case.
The real problem was the letters. Letters that would get her charged with treason and who knew what else, but that she couldn’t bring herself to destroy. Letters that had now been carefully hidden in files, in manuals, under floorboards, in suitcases, anywhere someone might miss them until she could move them to Liz’s library.
Melody threw out the pieces of the juice bottle and sank onto the sofa. She’d forgotten about the coffee Leo had brought and saw the bag sitting beside it. She peeked inside and saw a chocolate muffin. The gesture made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She took a long sip of the coffee, before setting it back on the table and picking up the remote. She flicked through the channels listlessly, settling on a cooking show. Her eyelids began to droop.
The buzzer ringing wasn’t quite as painful the second time around. Melody woke up to a near pitch-black apartment and looked around blearily, trying to sort out what was happening. The buzzer sounded again, and she stumbled off the couch and towards the door.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Melody, it’s me. Let me in, please.” She heard Liz’s voice through the intercom. She immediately pushed the button to give her access and turned on the lights. She frowned, looking at the now cold coffee on the table, and was throwing it down the sink when she heard Liz knocking. She tossed the cup into the trashcan and opened the door.
“Hi,” Melody said, standing to the side to let her in.
“You look terrible,” Liz said bluntly, turning on the air conditioning unit. Melody let out a small sigh of relief as the cool air blasted through the sweltering apartment.
“Yeah, I’d assume so,” Melody said, sitting back on the couch.
“Leo told me what happened.”
“Yeah,” Melody looked guiltily down at the floor.
“Melody, give the boy a break. He’s an idiot. I know that better than anyone. I tried to raise him to be smarter than that, but what can I say? He’s as tactless as his father.”
“I know. I’ll call him later.”
“Good. Anyway, I mostly came to give you this. Leo said you’d need a new one,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a card. She handed it to Melody, who took it and looked it over.
“Catrina Allen?”
“We weren’t going to give you the same name, were we?”
“Thanks, Liz.”
“Don’t mention it. Keep it safe.” She planted herself firmly on a chair. Her short brown hair fell over her right shoulder, and she set her too–thin arms on the armrests, giving Melody a piercing look. “Now, what do you think the situation is?”
Melody ran her fingers through her hair. “Honestly, I’m not too sure.” She told Liz the story and everything it seemed Logan had been trying to tell her. “It was that last guy, though, Derek. I could see it; Logan and Sean were both trying to protect him. He didn’t seem exactly…”
“Happy?”
“Exactly. Derek seemed like he was going to talk more, and not favorably, about the Party system. He clearly felt bad that Logan was taking shit for not going into the same branch as his parents. But—”
“Were you overheard?” Liz looked concerned.
“Kind of. When he started really going for it this one guy at the next table started listening in, and we all tried to shut him up. Derek finally caught on and changed tact, saying Jamison was a visionary, and Logan started the toast.”
“Good call.” Liz nodded. “So then what happened?”
“Well, I asked Sean about it that night, and all he said was that Derek has ideas, and then he tried to stop the conversation. But I think there’s more to it than that.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Logan’s a cop, and Sean’s had family arrested and killed before. It can’t just be that Derek is only one of them who doesn’t like what’s going on. Otherwise, Logan would have arrested me straight away, especially if he thought it would get his boss off his back.”
“You sure about that? It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to arrest you in front of Sean? It sounds like Sean is getting pretty attached.”
Melody scrunched her nose. “I’ve made it clear to Sean that there’s a firm limit to what I want from him. So, I would hope not. I don’t understand why he let those guys tag along yesterday anyway.”
“Maybe he was trying to find an excuse for you to meet his friends?”
“Don’t tell me that.”
Liz smiled softly at her as Melody lay her head on the side of the couch, then said seriously. “I think you should make contact again.”
“What?”
“With Logan. Get his story. See what he wants, if he wants anything. We need to make sure we’re safe.”
“You think that’ll be safe within itself?”
“Not particularly, but they haven’t torn down your door yet. And, just in case, you know the plan.”
“Yeah, I do, and speaking of, I have some things for your library.”
Liz nodded, “Yeah, Leo mentioned that as well.” She waited patiently while Melody collected all the letters from their hiding spaces, wrapped them in brown paper, and stuck them in the bottom of a grocery bag. She opened the fridge and frowned at the bare contents before placing an expired carton of milk and a bag of lettuce on top of them.
“Good.” Liz said, taking the bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”
“I wasn’t planning on—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner!” She waved over her shoulder, and Melody managed to crack a smile.
“Of course.”
Liz closed the door behind her, and Melody looked back at the card. Her picture was there, the same one from a year ago, the one that had been taken almost as soon as she’d gotten back from Quantico. She knew Liz’s contacts worked fast, but she was still surprised. She suspected that Liz had always had more than one, just in case. Almost unconsciously, she turned back to the TV, changing it over to the news.
“And today, President Jamison, in a meeting with his
Cabinet, discussed the distribution of funds to the reconstruction projects of Chicago and Boston,” the reporter began, and Melody changed it to a show she’d seen before, a mindless sitcom. She let the colors blur before her eyes, lying sideways on the sofa, seeing no reason to move. The sirens blasted, filling the air with pulsing, mind-numbing noise. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in, and out.
And that is where we will stop for today’s Reading with Rasta. That was The Next Witness by Kirstyn Petras. Catch you all next time.