THE ARCADE WAS dark but bustling with activity. The
sounds of sonic guns and aliens doing battle blared
from one side to the other. Two teens were engaged in
a dance-off, jumping and spinning in tandem with
their virtual selves on giant double-screens. Violet
sank into a corner booth with her backpack, the one
holding all her earthly possessions, which didn’t
amount to much: a brush and a comb, headphones,
bus pass, a few snacks.
She watched a group of rowdy guys virtual racing in
hydraulic cars as their friends cheered them on. She
thought back on those quiet words Levi had proffered
outside her door: I was supposed to protect you. She
fought the urge to dwell on those words and how
things had ended, or to ask herself why she’d been so
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overcome with desire for him, out of the blue. Whatever
it was, it was no longer present.
She laughed mentally, imagining how easily she
could make her way around the arcade floor and exit
with hundreds of dollars’ worth of goodies: cell phones,
tablets, watches, rings, wallets, purses. Maybe
thousands’ worth. But she banished the thought
immediately. “That’s not you anymore,” she reminded
herself.
“Then who are you?” she answered back. Violet
didn’t know how to answer her own question. “Who am
I?” she wondered.
“Hi there,” said a voice beside her, shouting over the
loudness of the room. He was a young man, probably
in his mid-to-late twenties, wearing hipster jeans and a
long sleeve skater t-shirt. He smiled at her warmly.
“Hi,” she offered back.
“You’re by yourself,” he uttered rhetorically. “That’s
kind of weird.”
“Thanks,” she said. “That’s kind of insulting.”
He laughed nervously and pointed at the empty seat
beside her. “My friends are annoying me. I think I’d
rather ditch them and sit with you for a while. I mean,
if that’s all right with you.”
Violet eyed him suspiciously and said, “Why do you
want to sit with me?”
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He paused and looked around, then said, “Because I
don’t see anyone else I’d rather sit with. Will that do?”
“What if I’m a serial killer?” she asked.
“You’re not,” he replied.
“I might be.”
“You’re not,” he said stubbornly, sliding into the
booth on the opposite side. She wanted to give him a
sarcastic “how dare you?” expression but fell into a
subtle grin instead. She couldn’t help it. He was rather
charming, and something about his eyes felt sincere to
her. But she wanted to speak her mind up front.
“I don’t sleep with boys,” she said with a flat tone.
“Ah,” he said. “You only sleep with girls then?”
“I don’t sleep with anyone, goon. Want me to knock
your face in?”
He laughed and raised his arms defensively. “Calm
down, calm down. I definitely do not want my face
smashed in by you. I’d much rather sit here and talk
for a while.”
“Talk about what?” she asked.
“About you,” he replied.
“What about me?”
“Anything you want to tell me. Where you’re from.
Where you’ve been. Your hopes, dreams… whatever. I
think we’ve already covered the fact that you’re not
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interested in sleeping with anyone. Let me check that
box.”
He made a gesture with his hands, as if he were
placing a check mark in an imaginary box.
“Cute,” she said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-something. Who cares? How old are you?”
“Old enough to smell a con,” she said. “There’s
nothing in my backpack worth taking. Unless you’re
into hair clips or granola bars.”
He nodded, impressed by her cleverness. “I see that
you’re a grifter.”
“You don’t have any friends in here,” she said.
“You’re working the floor, taking note of who might be
foolish enough to fall for your ruse. I’ll admit, you’re
pretty good. Just a little sloppy.”
He engaged her eyes and spent a moment inside
them. He then looked down at his hands. “I’m not
preying on these people. There was a time, yes… but
I’m not on the streets anymore. I spent some time in
foster with a great family; they paid for my education.”
“You’re a student?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Final semester,” he said. “Bachelor’s in Social
Work.”
“Good field,” she opined. “Especially since you’ve
been out there yourself. You might actually end up
helping someone.”
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“That’s the plan,” he laughed.
A group of three college-aged men approached the
booth. “Hey, Chris… you coming or what?”
The man in Violet’s booth answered back over his
shoulder, “No, I’m going to stick around for a while.
You guys go ahead.”
“You sure, man?” the speaking friend asked,
apparently deaf three seconds before.
“Yeah,” Chris answered, his eyes turning toward
Violet. “I met a very interesting girl.”
“Your call,” the friend said, before leaving with the
group.
Violet offered him the first friendly smile of their
conversation. “You think I’m interesting?” she asked.
“I do,” he answered, with a straight face.
She nodded, trying to read his sincerity. “I’m Violet.”
• • •
Levi rounded the corner of Blake and McLemore just
after dark. He knew the area to be a serious drug
haven and wanted to peruse the block, just to put his
mind to rest. Although he badly wanted to find the girl,
he didn’t want to find her here. After cruising the block
at a slow clip, he began to pick up a few stares. Levi
wasn’t sure if they had recognized him or if they were
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just paranoid and on the lookout for cops. He recalled
some piece of information he’d heard somewhere,
something about the first twenty-four hours after a
disappearance being the most important. After that,
the chances of finding the person were cut in half with
each passing hour. “But she’s a smart kid,” he told
himself. “She knows how to survive on the streets. At
least long enough for me to find her.”
But he knew that was only true if she wanted to stay
safe. If, he imagined, she was intending to harm
herself, it was only a matter of time — and that time
may have already played itself out. Levi saw no sign of
Violet, but he felt a bit of heat against his right arm,
which rested against the leather bag. He looked down
and saw a faint glow emanating from the lamp on his
seat. It was just barely there, but he did see light. It
lasted only a moment.
• • •
Jenny flagged the first taxi she could find and
climbed inside. “Twelfth and Rose Avenue, please.”
She saw the back of the taxi driver’s head nodding in
the affirmative. He then flipped the meter “on” and
slapped the gear into drive, merging onto the busy
street. She was worried that Levi hadn’t called her. He
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was supposed to have found a payphone and dialed
her cell if he’d tracked Violet down. But she had no
missed calls.
“Going to any parties tonight?” the driver asked.
“Uh,” she fumbled, distracted. “No, I don’t think so.
Just home for me.”
“Yeah, I’ll be driving all night. Sucks too. I hear…”
A boom shook the car. The driver slammed on his
brakes. “What the hell was that?” he exclaimed,
alarmed.
Jenny’s heart raced. She looked around, out all of
the windows, trying to find the source of the blast.
Traffic crawled to a standstill. The driver stuck his
neck forward, squirting cleaning solution onto his
windshield and hitting the wipers to gain a better look.
“I think I see smoke,” he said.
“Smoke?” she repeated. “Where?”
“Up ahead, looks like a few blocks. Yeah, that’s
definitely smoke.”
“An accident?” she asked, knowing he had no
answer. He confirmed her hunch by shrugging his
shoulders.
• • •
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Levi braked hard as an avalanche of people crossed
the street in front of him, rushing past like a blur. He
stuck his head out the window and called to anyone
willing to answer, “Hey, hey… what’s going on? What
was that noise?” And then he heard it again. A deep
booming sound that carried between the buildings.
He looked around in all directions, desperate to find
the source. His ears then picked up the whirling tat-
tat-tat of a helicopter overhead. “Hey!” he called out to
the last few people crossing the street. “What’s
happening?” An older man turned his head back to
Levi, though he continued his quick walk. “They’re
shooting people!”
Levi noticed that glimmer of light dancing once more
inside the lamp.
• • •
The music within the dark nightclub thundered with
bass-filled techno music. Chris led Violet onto the
dance floor through a maze of grinding bodies. Lights
swirled overhead in hypnotic fashion. Even without
any alcohol, Violet felt drunk and disoriented. “Just
lose yourself in it,” Chris had told her. Her body moved
in slow, sensual rhythm to the seductive music. He
pressed himself closely into her and she could smell
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the scent of incense on him. “You’re an amazing
dancer,” he shouted over the music.
After finishing three more techno beats, Violet felt a
hint of pain in her stomach. She slowed her dance and
stood still, trying to think of what she should say in
order to make a graceful exit. Chris noticed this and
moved his face in close to her ear. “Are you okay?” he
shouted, even though she barely heard his voice. She
thought about lying to him but a sharp pain hit her
without warning and she cringed.
“Want to get out of here?” he yelled. She nodded her
head “yes.”
“Okay, hold on to my hand. I’ll take you someplace
quiet. Don’t let go.” Chris led her through the frenzied
crowd of partygoers who were dancing so close he had
to shove his way through the mire. The two of them
spilled into the alleyway and Chris placed his arm
around her.
“I don’t feel good,” she said.
“I know,” he replied. “Let’s get you somewhere you
can lie down. Do you trust me?”
She looked into his eyes, searching them for any hint
of deceit. “Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”
“Good news then,” he said, removing a card from his
pocket. “Because I have a room right over there. We
don’t even have to walk.”
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Violet looked and saw him pointing to the building
next door.
“You’re staying at the Fairfield Inn?” she asked.
“I booked a room for me and my friends for the
evening, you know, to be responsible or whatever. But
now I’m thinking of not even telling them.”
“Chris, I don’t know…”
“It’s okay,” he affirmed. “It’ll be hard for you to rest
with a bunch of my idiot friends being noisy and
drinking all around you.”
The pain clutched her again and she felt like
dropping to the sidewalk below and curling into a ball.
But not in front of Chris. That would be so
embarrassing. “Can we go now?” she said, in a hurried
voice.
“Sure. Here, let me carry your backpack.”
Chris snatched her backpack and tossed it over his
shoulder. He then gently took her hand and led her to
the front entrance of the Fairfield Inn, where he greeted
the doorman and walked inside. Violet rested her
weary head against his shoulder as they walked, arm-
in-arm up the grand staircase to the second floor
landing, marching unknowingly to her death.
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