Ok, so I'm freaking out right now because I just heard that Baltor might be back for the last half of season 4! I don't care why he's back or if he's a good or bad guy, all I care about is the fact that he might be back! My best friend and I were flipping out at school over it. Of course I realize this is a big if, but I'll take it over nothing. New episodes air September 21st in Italy (I just realized the connection. Weird, huh?). So, just to burn off my adrenaline (and sugar…can't forget the sugar), I got home and started typing this. And as always, thanks to all reviewers, keep 'em coming!
Ever since I was little, Daphne and I have been really close. Even now, living on different sides of the country; we always tell each other everything.
Now what I'm getting at is the fact that as I walked through Central Park with Baltor, I realized that I couldn't tell my friends about this, but I also knew it would be easy to keep this under wraps for a while. Just drop lies here and there, and steer clear of our usual hangouts. Because I knew Stella would go nuts, and immediately call up Sky and tell him I'd found a new boyfriend (which I hadn't –Baltor and I weren't dating), and he'd get pissed or upset or a nasty combination of the two; and I actually did feel like keeping my guy best friend. However, I knew for a fact that Daphne would figure this out much faster then Stella or anyone else. How long it would be, I had no idea. The answer?
A couple hours.
Chapter 7: A Sister Calling
Bloom
I walked out of the Starbucks near Central Park, feeling better than I had all day. I could tell by the sun it was mid afternoon, which meant I had been there for at least two hours. Baltor and I had just sat and talked, mostly about the stuff we used to do when we were kids; the games, the stupid stunts, the bets (It turns out I still owe him a dollar twenty five from a bet we made when he was fourteen and I was ten.). But the weird thing was…I had fun. A lot of fun.
As I walked toward the subway station (there was no way I walking home; my ankle had just started feeling better), I grabbed my phone, remembering I had put it on silent. I had three voicemails. Hitting call the call button, I noticed a nice dark blue convertible pull up beside me. The passenger window rolled down, and I heard a voice yell, "You sure you don't want a lift home?"
"I'm sure Baltor!" I called back.
"Fine, but if I find you in an alley, I'm leaving you."
I laughed. "It's a deal. See you later!" The car window rolled up and Baltor drove off, darting through a light that had just changed to red. He gunned the intersection and made it through, pulling it off it true New York style (which means cars had screeched to a halt and almost hit him before they honked or flipped him off).
"You have three unheard messages," the automated voice at the other end of the line said, "First message." The voice changed from a fake one to a familiar one. "Bloom, you there? Can you hear me? Pick up!" I heard Stella say, "Well, your probably avoiding me; I totally deserve it. I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about this morning. I didn't realize what had happened until Musa almost killed me…but, I also called to say were leaving for the concert and your still not back, so I wanted to make sure your ok. Sky has your tickets, and I hope you can find us. Later."
I found myself nodding through the whole message as though Stella could see me. I deleted the voicemail and made a mental note that I really needed to apologize too for being so horrible to her, too. The next message came up. "Hey Bloom, its Sky," I found myself tensing a little, until I heard the message go on, "I'm really sorry, but I can't go to the concert tonight. Me and Roxy had…well, I guess you could say we had a little bit of adventure yesterday, and now were stuck with an all day shift. Trust me, you have no idea what we got ourselves into." I shook my head; if only Sky knew. "Anyway, if you still want the tickets just come by the Fruity Music Bar and get them. If not, I'll talk to you later." Well, there's one way out of the concert. I was kind of relived; I didn't feel like going anyway.
"Hola chica," I broke into a grin as I walked down the subway entrance steps, "Estoy me, duh! I'm so bored right now; Diana's working a morning shift at the surf shop for our friend Dwayne. He's sick and were all joking around saying he has the swine flu. Anyway, just caught a glimpse at the calendar date and, ahem, wanted to check in with you. I've got a 6:15 shift down there today, so anytime before 6:00 I'll probably answer. Adios!"
I swiped my subway card and entered the station, the familiar felling of wind from the trains around me. I hit call back, and listened to Boulevard of Broken Dreams (huge Green Day fan), as I waited for Daphne to pick up. "Hello?" a voice cut off the chorus of the song.
"Hola me hermana, como estas?" I asked.
I heard my sister laugh. "Is that the only thing you can say in Spanish?"
"Besides El Pollo Loco, yeah." I shot back with a laugh, "We can't all major in foreign language." That's actually true. Daphne is fluent in five different languages; English, Spanish, French, Italian and German, and currently learning Japanese. The girl is a human translator; Baltor used to say we'd have to take foreign language for the rest of our lives just to understand half of what Daphne says.
"Yeah, I guess not," Daphne said thoughtfully, "But you should. Anyone else who takes foreign language seemed so nerdy."
"Just your type," I joked, absently taking a dollar out of my pocket and dropping it into the open guitar case of a boy who was playing 'Bad Day'. He grinned at me and continued playing. "Sooo what have you been up to today?"
"Nothing, much," she replied, "Di got home a few hours ago, and we headed down to Newport to mess around on the boardwalk. We ate frozen bananas and won one of those huge stuffed bears in the arcade."
I laughed as I leaned against a column, waiting for the subway to arrive. "Every six year olds dream."
"Oh you should have seen the look this little boy was giving me," Daphne trailed off, "And what has my favorite sister been up too today?"
"I'm your only sister, Daph."
"Same difference. What'd you do?"
"Well it didn't start out well…"
"What happened?" Daph asked, a trace of concern in her voice.
I sighed. "Stella was on a sugar high so she forgot. I snapped at her and stormed off. But the rest of the day was good." I quickly added. "I hung out with-" I stopped short, suddenly remembering who I was talking to.
"With who?" The concern turned to interest.
"Oh, um…just a friend of mine." I said, trying to sound convincing.
"Oh really?" Daphne said slyly. "Is this person 'just a friend', or a certain blonde haired boy with a three letter name?"
"Daphne! Not Sky!"
"Plus you can still use three letters to describe him; H-o-t."
"You're not funny!"
"I'm just making suggestions. Am I on the right track?"
"If he's so h-o-t hot, why don't you date him?" I said irritably.
"Because long distance relationships never work, chica." Daphne chided me, "Don't you watch the movies?"
"Yeah," I said sarcastically as I heard the familiar screech of brakes in the distant tunnels, "They never find the body of the girl until the final scene."
"Ha ha ha," she said sarcastically, "So was it him?"
"Allow me to answer so it's the same in any language; no."
"Okay, okay," Daphne sounded disappointed.
"Are you and Stella in it together to get us together?" I asked with slight sarcasm, as the car pulled up. I stepped forward onto it and grabbed hold of a pole. There were only a few other people on the car.
"No, but I guess we might as well be," I could picture Daphne saying that while twisting one of her dark brown locks around her finger.
"Seriously Daphne, there is nothing going on between me and Sky; were just friends. Nothing more!"
"You enjoy ruining my fun, don't you?"
"Sorry. One of the kicks I still have in life."
"Well, I say I get five questions about this guy." Daph loved games like this.
"Um…okay."
"It's a guy, right?"
"Yes, it's a guy."
"Is he cute?"
Daphne knew I could never lie…especially about guys, so I simply leaned against the pole. "Absolutely gorgeous." I breathed, finally admitting to someone how I felt.
"Uh huh. Do I know him?"
"Oh well…you've heard of him." I said hesitantly.
"No, I mean do I know him, know him?"
"You guys have met…"
"Not very specific, but I'll take it. Hmm…is he British?"
I rolled my eyes. Daphne had a thing for British boys ever since she watched David Tennant on Doctor Who (apparently if Sky was British I'd be marrying him; no questions asked). "No Daphne, he's not British."
"What's his name?"
I froze. "You had five questions."
"Technically I just asked you to elaborate one, so I have one left."
"It was still a question."
"But it wasn't fair, Bloom. So I get a bonus one; name?"
"Since when is that a rule?"
Daphne was silent. "You don't want to tell me." She said as though stating a fact.
"Daph…"
"It is Sky!"
"Will you knock it off! It isn't Sky!" I glanced out as the doors opened; the next stop was me.
"Then just tell me!" she sounded exasperated, "Geez, girl, I'm your sister. As long as he's not illegal or wanted for killing anyone, I'm good."
"Well he not any of those…specifically," I added under my breath so Daphne couldn't hear me. Finally, I gave in; I had to tell somebody what was going on. "Ok fine, I'll talk, but first I get a question."
"Fair deal."
"I've been wondering –you know, being the day and all, have you, um…"
"Have I what?"
I took a deep breath and said (probably faster than any human before me). "Have-you-talked-to-Baltor-at-all-since-the-whole-thing-happened?"
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "A language I can understand, please." Sighing, I repeated the question slowly. When I did, it got deathly quiet. For a second I though Daphne had hung up. Suddenly, I heard her exhale sharply. "No." she said, her voice tense, "Besides the court junk, I haven't had contact with Baltor in years…thank god, too."
"I just thought," I said, stepping off the subway at my stop –this wasn't the reaction I'd hoped for. "You guys being best friends."
"Used to be best friends." Daphne cut off, "Before he stabbed us both in the back. If I never see his face again it'll be too soon."
"Strong words."
"I don't like cursing, you know that."
It wasn't my fault Baltor's words from earlier today floated back into my memory, and I could feel the breeze from the park again…the shade of the tree…the scent of the grass…Baltor's arms around me…"It wasn't his fault…"
"What?" Oh my god, I did not just say that out loud. "Bloom how can you say that?" Daphne sounded shocked. "He saw Mom and Dad's car. He gunned the intersection. He knew he'd hit them hard and did it anyway. He killed them. And he knew it was them."
"Well maybe there's an explanation." The words were out of my mouth before I could debate them.
"Yeah, he's a demon from hell who befriended us just to see us in pain in the long run."
"A logical explanation, Daphne."
"Ok, how do we get one?" She sounded smug, as though she'd caught me. But I wasn't losing this argument.
"Well how about I give you his phone number, you call him, and you rant to him about getting answers and what a demon he is!" I reached the top of the stairs and started walking toward my apartment.
I heard a gasp at the other end of the line. "What did you just say?"
"Rant to him…"
"You have his phone number!"
"Yeah…" I started in then, telling her the whole story. Well, not the 'whole' story…more like an abridged version (abridged enough so Daphne would know the basics but wouldn't kill me). However, even the abridged version took me three blocks to fully explain. And when I was done, I wasn't exactly sure what to expect.
"Oh geez Bloom…"
"Don't be mad!"
"I'm not mad," Daphne shot back, "I'm just…concerned. But hey, it's your life. If you want to talk to him, go ahead. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"Cross my heart."
"I want his phone number."
"Daphne!" I groaned, entering my building. She had to pick now to go all overprotective on me.
"Just for safe keeping," Daphne protested, "I won't call it unless it's a huge emergency."
Sighing, I repeated the number
Baltor
"Hello?" I answered the phone as I dug in my pocket for my apartment key.
"You have got to see this," the voice at the other end of the line said, sounding shocked.
"See what?" I asked, finally grasping the key and taking it out of my pocket. The normally coy and stony quality of the person's voice was gone.
"Where are you?"
"Just walking into my apartment," I said, opening the door and flipping on the lights. The modern Manhattan apartment seemed out of my style completely, but of course it's what I'm stuck with. Not like I got a choice of where to live. "What's with you?"
"Turn on channel nine. You won't believe it!"
"You're finally in a mental hospital and you got on T.V.?" I asked, walking over to my glass coffee table and picking up the remote.
"You are so hilarious."
"Thank you. I'll be here all month." I pressed the red button on the T.V. remote. "What channel again?"
"Nine."
"Isn't that just news?"
"Just do it, Baltor!"
"Fine…" I scrolled trough the channels, watching images of football reruns, weather forecasters, and some Spanish soap opera flash on the screen. When I finally got to the right channel, I saw one of those newscaster girls with tons of makeup on the screen in midsentence.
"- And we continue with the breaking news we brought you earlier. Police are still in pursuit of the vehicle that robbed a Wells Fargo in New Jersey minutes ago. Reports say they stole around one hundred thousand dollars in cash. We now go live to the chase." The image changed to a red escalade driving down a highway. I gasped. "That's not…"
"That is," the voice said, sounding as shocked as I felt. "One of us."
"Dang. A good cop chase and I don't have any popcorn." I watched the car swerve trough highway traffic, three police cars in pursuit. I recognized the particular part of the coast; the car was near the New York-Jersey boarder. "They gonna make it?"
"Oh yeah, but we've never had news crews on us."
"You know who it is?"
"Someone in my family, with my luck." The voice said sarcastically, "Person has a blonde wig with hideous pink highlights. Car doesn't have a license plate. It is so one of ours."
I muttered in agreement, watching as the car approached a cliff turn. "I really don't know how this one is going to end," the news guy in the helicopter was commenting to the lady in the station. "Wait hold it, he's not turning…what the…!" The driver floored it and drove straight off the cliff. The helicopter panned just in time to see a huge splash in the water. To any ordinary eye (or any cop who investigated later on), it looked like the car plummeted into the water from the fifty foot drop. But any profession eye, you could clearly see a decent ledge the car should have hit, so it should have been flipping when it hit the water, changing the pattern of the splash. Any professional eyes could make out that the car in the water had it's back window busted open, when the windows should have been intact. And the slight tire treads on the ledge; indicating the real car had perfectly hit the ledge and driven off, while knocking a similar but older car into the water in it's place.
The whole procedure had been done in three seconds flat. Executed perfectly; just like it was planned (which of course it was). "Oh my gosh," the voice of the news guy said as the older car dropped further into the Atlantic. "It's over, it's over…" That of course was also not true. I could see a perfect little indent in the rock; five hundred bucks says the real car was there getting a license plate put on it so it could slip into New York unnoticed.
I flipped off the T.V. "Idiots."
"Yep," the voice agreed, "At least we know where were getting our money."
"That's for sure."
Ha! All those weekends of watching 'World's Wildest Police Videos' finally came in handy. Well folks, that's all for now. And yes, the person talking to Baltor is the same person from chapter 4, in case you were wondering. Feedback always welcome (I didn't feel like saying review)!
Sneak Peak at Chapter 8:
Things with Bloom and Baltor seem to finally be going well. But you know what they say; all good things must come to an end.
