I would have yelled at Derek
For manhandling me if I hadn’t needed it
So much. Was this the way
Mirabel had felt, impressed by Verne?
Climbing into crowded trains was a skill
I didn’t have. We could sit
This time. “I wonder if that guy’s
An Epstein flier,” Derek mused aloud.
“I wondered the same thing!
But I don’t know if he
Could get along with ANYBODY
Long enough. The way he clutched at
Mirabel; do those guys care
About anything that much?”
Derek seriously considered
This ill-expressed idea.
“It’s a club like any club,” he said.
“They’re posing for each other.”
Hard to argue with.
Hadn’t Verne and Mirabel
Been posing for ME?
“I had the most awful dream,”
I tentatively began.
“You believe in dreams?” I almost hit him.
Our first quarrel!
“People know things subconsciously before
They know them consciously.” I was
Quoting my drama prof, but
It sounds legit.
He was amenable. “So explicate
This dream.” I expanded.
“A ruined house – Downtown Abbey on the skids.
Shattered.
Sad and… threatening with a lot of
Broken stuff.” I found I couldn’t
Express the horned man.
Derek tried to locate the dream’s
Progenitor.
“Was it something he said?”
“He said Mirabel tried to live there and
Didn’t like it.”
“Intriguing,” murmured Derek. “Let’s research
this guy when we get home.”
Chapter 14 – A Ruined Manor
Derek’s family place was a
Penthouse atop the
Museum Mesko. Mostly glass.
In the “reserved” elevator
Derek grilled me:
“What do YOU think happened? You
Think she ran away
And left you holding – HIM?”
Unsure of speech when hurtling so fast
I breathed relief when the door bonged.
“I haven’t told you the worst part.”
“What’s that?”
“Our dresses for the wedding
Are the same. It’s
THE SAME DRESS.”
He didn’t get it.
“That’s worse than having
Fourteen year olds?”
“Yes, because SHE DID IT.”
Should I tell him Mirabel was some kind of
Flesh scout? He would never understand
Why I still sought her.
“You were her replacement.
Good that you got out of there.”
Through his folks’ dark foyer,
With the Tiffany lamps and stacks of mail
He led me to a long living room
With at least six sofas and the most
Fabulous view. Enough modern art to
Give anybody nightmares.
But the city laid out
Beneath the clouds was
“Ravishing.”
“Want something to eat?”
Why was I always hungry?
Was it hunger really or
Existential despair?
Existential despair can make a person
Fat. The microwave pinged.
“I can’t believe you didn’t Google this guy.”
I can’t believe I didn’t either.
Why didn’t I? Derek was good
At pointing out the logic of
The illogical world I’d just escaped.
Was this decompression something I shared
With Mirabel?
He levered out a plate of nachos,
Adding sour cream and guacamole.
I WAS hungry!
“I think I need a bib.”
He added piles of napkins.
I dumped nachos into my despair.
“Coffee? Tea? The wine’s
Locked up.”
“Coffee’s fine.”
On their home computer
I googled while he buttled.
The news was bad.
“His house looks like my dream!”
Valerian Hall, Verne’s “ancestral home.”
“There’s even a lake with folly.”
“Swear you didn’t look before?”
Derek was persnickety.
“Don’t you think sometimes
You absorb things from the air?
By osmosis?”
He politely considered the question,
Working his logic
Around this idea. “Remote viewing?”
“Peer Loses Bid to Break Entail.”
Screamed headlines as I scrolled.
Down, down, down.
“Looks like he couldn’t pry more money out.”
Derek typed – my research not
Enough for him.
“Says here he can’t go back because
There’s a warrant out for his arrest,”
“Look at the site!” I argued. “How could Royal Gossip
Know anything of value?”
“I admit you can’t trust exclamation points,”
Derek concurred.
“But it is a reason to avoid police.
Whatever it is,
“Can’t be enough to extradite.”
“I need a bathroom.”
To throw up?
I rose abruptly, headed down the hall.
“There’s a close one off the kitchen.”
Around the corner from the wall of refrigerators.
I checked myself in a tiny bathroom mirror.
Hollow-eyed, a girl who sorely needs a tan.
Completely different from my
Made-up, Russian hooker, Mirabel self.
“I found what he’s in trouble for,” said Derek
When I got returned. GBH.”
“Party drug?”
“Grievous bodily harm. He attacked someone.”
“A woman?”
“No. Some man in a pub.”
I couldn’t picture it.
Verne seemed more irritable than physical.
But then I recalled how he was about Ravi.
“So Verne’s on the run it sounds like.”
“It’s a new idea,” I agreed.
Derek moved effortlessly from coffee to seltzer.
The boy was a sponge.
“This is more fun than a video game.
Maybe I’ll transition to “criminal justice”.”
“What are your parents pushing?”
“Wealth Management. Fundraising.”
He made a disgusted face. “Tax Avoidance.
Dull, dull, dull. Studying rule breakers, though
You don’t find that interesting?”
Did I?
Alysse Aallyn 
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