10
Phasing In And Out
“Why are you so blunt?” Kayla looked around her to find a bedroom that is not her own.
“Blunt? You jerk, you owe me seventy bucks!” The voice on the other end hounded at her through the phone. “Three days later, again. Are you going to be paying me or not?”
“All I have is money in my pocket, Luna. You work for me.”
“Did you get hit on the head or something? You wish you were working for me, and you are.“ Kayla’s fingers searched for the cubes while her heart raced, and found it pulsating yellow. “I give up. Either I see my money at the BoA down the street by fourteen hundred today or you are going back to the bridge.”
Kayla didn’t have a chance to give her answer before she hung up.
She checked the small clip buttoned to the inside of her left pocket that her family entrusted her for emergencies. The steel cross clipped three pieces of paper— one for contacts, one for a check made out to Kayla herself for fifteen hundred dollars, and the third for a Sync Metro card that will be redeemed through the receipt. Fifteen hundred in cash was clipped next to the pieces of paper, and the other end was a nano-SIM card that was wedged between the metal and the money.
She turned the TV on by the remote, and began to scale the home. It was a small apartment where the carpets have frayed and worn away. The walls are darkened of the paint chipping away. The tables are scratched from use and its varnish ruined. The lamp on the nightstand no longer works, so did the handles to the wooden drawers that creaked when she tried to open them.
She unplugged her phone and walked out of the bedroom.
The apartment has its air-con ripped out of the wall. There was no kitchen. The light bulbs are clouded and some are hanging by a wire. She made it to the living room which consisted of a chair, a table, and one of those TVs that still relied on cathode tubes.
Kayla shook her head and cupped her mouth. She checked her phone, which has now managed to find a signal. No Taxis are flying outside her window now. She called the mansion number as she spun the clip between her fingers.
“Sorry, this number is no longer in use.” It rang three times before the automator spoke into her ear.
She dialed the second number labeled by the title “Circle Staff Emergency Hotline”.
“This is Hoffman Investment Securities, can I help—“ She killed the call and removed the number from her call history.
Kayla looked at her phone, not made by Circle, and sighed. She checked the incoming call list, and dialed the number at the top.
“So you got my cash?”
She sat at the bench across the bank. A girl clad in a blue-black jacket in heavy eyeliner sat down next to her.
“Who are you?”
“Are you playing dumb, Kayla?” The girl’s unimpressed blue eyes stared judgmentally at her. The hair had been cut short from what was obviously long hair, strewn casually that was only partially arranged before she left home. It was like she never left the age of 13 with her smudgy dark mascara and the Japanese oversized headphones hanging by her neck. The boots clacked on the ground, while a clear scent of incense that was hastily masked with perfume floated around her. She snapped her fingers at Kayla. “Money.”
“You wanted $70 from me. I’ll triple it.” She passed two of the sheets from the clip to her.
“Good on you.” The girl took a stick of incense from the small tin she kept inside her coat pocket, and with the scuffed-up steel Zimbo lighter she set it alight, and waved it in front of her face before tossing it onto the pavement. “Why do I consider you a friend?”
Kayla was mute, and she stared at the cubes hidden in her pocket for clues.
“That will be rent. Now I know you come with interest.”
“Is your name Luna Syracuse?” Kayla’s voice was almost sheepish.
“Duh. You wanna call a debt collector instead of me, who helped you kick those Mafia boys out often for you?” She popped some watermelon gum in her mouth.
Kayla’s eyes were dead locked onto the floor.
“What year is this?”
“October 2015, don’t thank me for the month. Now I really wanna know what’s going on with you. With all that money.”
“This is not the one I’m looking for—“ She had a thousand-year stare into some stroller in the distance.
“Oh, you asked for the year. Shut up.”
Luna grabbed her shoulders by her two hands and shook her hard. Kayla was screaming at her lungs before Luna’s palm covered her mouth.
“What is wrong with you?” Luna frustratingly hushed at her face.
“I uh, I don’t think, I’m the right Kayla.”
“You really are insane. Oh well.” She looked off to the side and back at the person who came up with the pair of Benjamins. “No more owed, this will do for this week and next week.”
Kayla took Luna’s shoulders and shook her back.
“Why do I know you? Why am I with you?” She was yelling at her face by this point. The aggression drained from the jacket-wearing girl’s face.
“We met at the AA? The Bronx? No? No bells rung?” Luna shook her off. “Get lost, little girl.”
Kayla stood as she watched the girl’s jacket sailing the wind as she moved. She looked at the cubes again. It turned red. She sat back down on the bench across the bank. She pulled out her phone, and found a podcast on new comic book film releases. The video played, and her head was forcing her back to lean against the plate that slanted back.
She found herself in Alex’s house again. The metal cube was still playing. The slow chatting was still heard, and someone’s footsteps became closer and closer, until a figure slid the door open.
“Sorry, Kayla.” Luna noticed her master half-asleep on the bed, looking dazed and confused at her. “We were a little late down there. Sorry to keep you waiting.”