Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(44)

“That only leaves me with four hundred and fifty bucks!”

“Excellent subtraction skills there, little brother.” She tucks the folded-up money into her back pocket. “I don’t know why you’re not in AP math with me and Nessa.”

I glower. “You know I’m just gonna tell Mom and Dad.”

“Be my guest. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated to learn that you’ve got hundreds of dollars stashed up here. But don’t worry. They probably won’t ask you where you got it. Of course, I might just have to let it slip that you’re a gay male prostitute now.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m thinking that fifty bucks is a pretty fair price to buy my silence. But that’s just me.”

“You are such a bi —”

Cathy places her long black fingernail on my lips. “Uh-uh. Mind your words, young man. We wouldn’t want this to be an ongoing extortion thing, would we?”

I swat her hand away. “Oh, you mean like me having to pay rent every month to stop you from spreading lies about me?”

“That’s just basic compensation for the inconvenience you pose. And believe me, it doesn’t even come close to balancing things out. You’d never be able to afford that.”

Just then, Nessa pokes her head into my room. “There you are,” she says, completely ignoring me. She’s wearing a blue Wal-Mart vest and pressed khakis that are such an odd contrast to her Gothness. “I knocked but nobody answered the front door. We better get going or we’re going to be late again.”

“I’m coming.” Cathy saunters to the door. “Just give me a sec, okay? I have to go find my uniform.” She looks back at me. “Hey, baby brother. Why don’t you entertain Ness with the details of your brilliant plan? I’m sure she’ll find it fascinating.”

I flip Cathy off, but she just laughs as she exits the room.

As soon as Cathy’s gone, Nessa reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded-up piece of pink notebook paper. She glances over her shoulder, then steps into my room and presses it into my hand.

“Here are some more suggestions for the last few scenes,” Nessa whispers.

“Why didn’t you e-mail this to me? I just finished incorporating all of your other notes.”

Nessa checks the doorway again. “These came to me on the bus ride over here.”

I sigh, imagining all the new work Nessa has likely created for me. “We’re supposed to start filming next week. Could we maybe meet up in person again instead of all this back-and-forth?”

“Tomorrow,” she says, without missing a beat. “My house. Five o’clock. We’ll order pizza. Cathy’s working until closing, so we should have a nice long run at it.”

“Wow, you’ve really worked this out,” I say, running through my schedule in my head. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got to help out my uncle in the afternoon, but later should be fine.”

“Kewl.” Nessa leans in close. “Don’t you love all this clandestine stuff? It feels like we’re spies. Or like we’re having an affair.”

I gulp so loudly that even Cathy probably heard it. Jeez, when did it get so warm in here?

“Oh, and Sean?” she whispers, her breath tickling my neck. For a second I think she’s going to try to kiss me again, and I remind myself why that would be a bad thing. “I was also thinking that maybe Dr. Schmaloogan should have an evil sidekick. Sort of like a Renfield or an Igor.”

I blink and try to clear my head. “A who?”

“Someone to do his bidding. To steal the test chimps and spread the virus and stuff. It’s a classic horror-movie character. Jesus, Sean, we’re going to have to have a movie night and bring you up to speed on these things.”

“A sidekick. Yeah. No, I get it. That could be good.”

“Maybe.” Nessa teeter-totters her head. “Maybe not. I don’t know. Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She flashes me a quick smile, and then she’s gone.

I stare at the note in my hand for a second before bringing it to my nose. It smells a little like carnations. An affair, I think, a jolt of excitement running through my body.

But then my brain finally kicks in: pink, scented stationery? This whole thing couldn’t be more obviously a trap if her note actually said This is a trap!

Whatever she and Cathy are up to, as long as it keeps Nessa around long enough for us to finish this screenplay, I don’t really give a flying Fearow. I just have to be on guard and make sure the ensign in my pants follows captain’s orders.





EXT. STREET — NIGHT


Jack and Stacy race down the street, out of breath and sweating. They keep looking back over their shoulders as if they are being chased.


STACY



Do you think we lost them?




JACK



I don’t know. They seem to have a really good sense of smell. Let’s just keep running.




Jack grabs Stacy’s hand and pulls her down a back alley. The alley is lined with trash cans and dumpsters and doors to stores and restaurants.


Halfway down the lane, they notice that it dead-ends at a brick wall.


STACY