Settling In Chapter 4
"We can still cancel," Danny mumbled.
Rolling my eyes at his dramatics, especially as we just parked on the curb next to our destination, I said, "I'm pretty sure we can't as someone is watching us from an upstairs window."
Leaning over the wheel, and making it obvious he was looking, Danny said, "I don't see anyone."
"They're there," I chuckled. "Being sneaky. Or trying to be. Why are you so worried?"
"I just have a bad feeling about this," Danny replied, sighing as he leaned back. "I'm not sure why, but I do."
"We'll be fine, Danny," I assured him warmly. "You know my public backstory as well as I do. You wrote a good piece of it. I trust you and you can trust me that this isn't the first time I've played to a crowd."
Danny nodded, seemingly a bit reassured. "If you get uncomfortable at any time, we'll leave. Just tell me, and we'll go. No questions."
"Relax Danny," I said, chuckling. "It's like you said, it's only dinner and awkward questions."
"It's the last part that worries me, Renée."
Not commenting, I unbuckled my seat belt and exited Danny's car. Our window peeper vanished before I was done. The Barnes house was about what I would have expected. A nice two story building, two car garage, on a nice spacious plot. Especially for being inner city. Like most of the homes in this area, it was the kind of place that said, 'I have money and I live in comfort'.
I didn't need to see the security company name staked into the yard to know there was - at a minimum - four holes I could exploit if I wanted in. This was the kind of area where break-ins weren't something to worry about. So even if the camera coverage wasn't set up to just cover the obvious, it wouldn't take much.
"Stop planning on robbing them, please," Danny whispered jokingly.
"Why do you automatically think that's what I was thinking?" I asked archly, not allowing a hint of embarrassment or shame to show. "I could have just been appreciating the facade, the grounds, or flowers you know."
I let him stutter a few moments before I allowed my smirk to show. "Besides, it would be far too easy."
"You're evil," Danny groaned, realizing I was messing with him. "You did that on purpose."
"You're fun to wind up," I acknowledged. "But seriously, you don't have to worry about me. This is the kind of area I would hit if I needed a fast infusion of cash. Not for the challenge. The only challenge here is finding a fence connected enough to quickly move the merchandise. Have no fear, Danny, I'm nowhere near that desperate, and besides, it's not my style."
"Strangely, I actually find that comforting," Danny mused.
"See?" I said, smirking. "I can be good."
Shaking his head in exasperation, Danny led the way toward the front door. I continued to play with the idea of working the house as I followed. The hard part would be the furniture, if I wanted to really strip the place. Moving vans tend to attract attention, especially if the neighbors are friendly with the target. Then again, with a crew of maybe fifteen, I could probably easily get everything else of value. Assuming they had any art and such worth that many people being involved. And if I had the right fence.
Unless I used Jess...then I could take the furniture and cut costs by not needing so many hands. Hmm….
Danny knocking on the door brought me back to the present in time for the door to open revealing an older woman. Tall, willowy in a way that made me think she spent a great deal of effort to keep herself just so. Long red hair falling past her shoulders looking recently styled and complemented her dress showing she knew her stuff.
She was pretty, in that arm candy kind of way. Something that didn't match the intelligence in her pale eyes as she looked at Danny. Nor her smile as it bloomed wide when those eyes rested on me.
Interesting.
For a moment, she just stared at us. Danny coughing seemed to bring her back. Shaking herself out of her introspection she instructed, "Come in, both of you, please."
"Thank you, Zoe," Danny said, taking off his coat. I did the same looking around while moving my deck of cards to my back pocket.
So far, the inside was what I was expecting. Everything looked well maintained and very nice. Some pieces had that name brand look to them. All of it artfully arranged in a manner that made me think they entertained on occasion. Made sense, since, Mr. Barnes was supposed to be a lawyer of some kind according to Danny. I'm sure that was something he would do in his social circle.
"It's been a while. How are you, Zoe?" Danny asked our hostess politely.
"Well, thank you for asking," Mrs. Barnes answered keeping her eyes on me the whole time.
Taking my jacket and hanging on the coat rack next to us, Danny got the hint Mrs. Barnes was giving and introduced us. "Renée, this is Zoe Barnes. Zoe, my daughter Renée."
"Renee…"
"I told Alan about this on the phone days ago," Danny said in a way that sounded like that was that.
"Oh. Right," Mrs. Barnes muttered, looking embarrassed. "I knew that, but I guess I just didn't think about it much."
"That's okay, Mrs. Barnes," I said, extending my hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you. You have a lovely home."
"Thank you, um, Renee," she said, taking my hand and looking even more on the back foot. I wasn't sure if that was because of my accent, or the fact I commented on her house in a way that suggested I'd never been here before. Both were likely and clearly my name wasn't the only thing she hadn't really thought about after she found out I was back.
Well, if this was a prelude of things to come, this dinner certainly wouldn't be boring.
Mrs. Barnes led us into the sitting room but instead of the whole family, there was only an older girl.
"Anne, where's Emma?" Mrs. Barnes asked, obviously just as surprised.
Rolling her eyes, Anne shrugged. "Who knows with her any more."
She was obviously trying to keep her face placid as she turned toward us. "Danny, I'm sure you remember Anne. Taylor, sorry, I meant Renee, this is my eldest daughter, Anne. Anne, Renee."
"Bonjour."
My greeting caused both women to blink in surprise, obviously not expecting it. Danny, by contrast, could have been cut from stone for how much reaction he showed. Which told me he half expected it.
"Yes, well, Anne, where's your father?"
"Where else, his study," she answered.
"Of course he is," Mrs. Barnes sighed. "Danny, did you want to come with me to help pull him from his latest project?"
After looking at me and getting a smile, Danny nodded. "Sure."
"So," Anne said breaking the silence left in the wake of the adults exit. "New Orleans huh?"
Chuckling at her tone, I nodded.
"That had to be weird."
"It was all I knew," I replied easily. "Things are less weird when you can't remember anything prior to the first day. It just was."
"Yeah, I guess it would be like that," Anne said weakly, laughing self-consciously.
Deciding to rescue her from the foot in mouth issues she created for herself, I asked, "You are in college? I'm pretty sure it was you that Danny was talking about. Bay University?"
Grateful for the out, though looking a bit strange at my use of Danny's name, Anne nodded. "Yeah. Taking business classes. Or I will once I get the basics out of the way."
"I don't suppose you are taking geometry?" I asked.
"Not this year," Anne answered looking a bit thrown by my interest. "Why?"
"Sister Patricia only had a basic idea on it," I explained. "She taught various maths and when the sisters realized I had a talent for numbers, she taught me algebra. I picked it up pretty quickly, so she tried teaching me geometry too, but it wasn't very consistent. And she didn't know the material very well. I've tried self study for it, but it's a hard subject."
"Sister Patricia?"
"Yeah. She worked at the orphanage I ended up at," I answered easily from the backstory that Danny and I worked out. "It was run by Catholic nuns. Sister Patricia used to be an accountant before she joined the order and liked helping those of us who were interested with our numbers."
"Ouch," Anne winced. "That had to suck. Not the helping part, but the orphanage part."
I shrugged. "Compared to hiding behind garbage dumpsters so that creepers couldn't do things to me in my sleep, it was a palace. The nuns don't put up with that kind of thing. Especially Sister Mary. She was very…old testament about that stuff, you could say. Plus, it was warm there and they had food. It was everything I needed until I could fend for myself."
My comment seemed to suck the life out of the conversation. At least from Anne, which I found just a touch humorous. It was incredibly obvious she had absolutely no frame of reference nor any idea on what to say. I kept a friendly look on my face in the silence that followed. Hopefully that would put her at ease.
"Well, you seem to be doing much better now," Anne said after a long pause.
"I worked hard for it and Danny is very generous."
Thankfully a distraction in the line of someone walking down the stairs arrived. A teen about my age. Similar hair to both Anne and Mrs. Barnes fell in well maintained locks behind her. She was dressed in designer clothes. Each bit looking like something she just pulled from her closet, but was clearly arranged artfully to give just that impression. Even with the extra years, I easily recognized her from the pictures Danny showed me. Emma Barnes.
Emma continued to casually walk down the stairs toward us with her eyes locked on me. Outwardly looking causally happy to see me standing there, but that wasn't matched in her eyes.
In her eyes there was a completely different kind of strange mix going on. What, I couldn't tell except that everything about Emma screamed 'fake'.
Well, that was unexpected.
I could practically feel Anne watching next to me which was even more curious. I didn't comment on it though. Instead, I waited for Emma to say something.
"...Taylor?" she asked cautiously while continuing to observe me.
"Renée, actually," I replied habitually, keeping my placid smile in place.
"Renee?" Her butchering of the accent was almost cute. Would have been if I didn't suspect she did it on purpose.
"It sounds more like Renée, but yes," I replied knowing full well that wasn't want she meant.
"Why change names? Was there something wrong with Taylor?"
"Renée is the only name I've ever known," I answered. "I have no memories of being Taylor."
The girl didn't seem surprised, but she winced a little at that. I followed suit as I realized exactly what I'd just said. This girl had apparently been my best friend once. My sister in all but blood. And I had just told her with absolutely no emotion, 'I have no memories of you'.
The way the girl recovered however, was astounding. The hurt quickly evaporated under a guise of calculation, and narrowed eyes.
That begged the question, why was she calling attention to my loss of memory? She had to know it would hurt her, and that I wouldn't be able to remember… so why?
I met the girl's eyes for a long while, studying her even as she studied me. Not like friends but like… competitors? Why would she do that to herself? She had no idea what she was getting into. No information, yet I could almost feel her preparing to leap.
I didn't understand, but I suppose I wouldn't. I'd never really had to understand loss. Just… being lost. Maybe she just had to hear it for herself. I wasn't Taylor, and couldn't replace her. But even as I thought that, it didn't fit everything, and that bothered me because there was clearly something going on.
Next to us, Anne looked even more uncomfortable than she did when we were talking. So what was going on that I didn't know about? Anne obviously had an idea and being the only person who didn't wasn't a nice feeling.
Emma's assessing gaze practically screamed she was trying to figure something out, and somehow, I was centerpiece for a drama I wasn't even aware was playing. Which would have been unacceptable under most circumstances. Gambit thrived on drama. Especially if she was the center of it.
Pushing that thought from my mind lest I fall into old habits I didn't want shown in my civilian life, I turned to the approaching footsteps and voices coming our way.
"My God, you were right. She looks just like Annette," Mr. Barnes said the moment he saw me.
"I told you," Danny said smugly before turning to me. "Renée, this is Alan Barnes."
"Mr. Barnes," I said, greeting him with a smile. "Thank you for having us over tonight."
"No trouble, Renee. I was very happy when Danny said you could make it," he replied earnestly enough that I could almost believe it. Which was uncharitable of me, but Emma staring holes in the side of my head was making me paranoid.
Then again, he was a lawyer, so grain of salt and all that. I still smiled warmly as expected which prompted him to smile in return.
"Well, how about we go and see what Zoe cooked for us tonight?"
His question was met with general agreement, and we all filed into the dining room. I could feel Emma's eyes on my back the entire way.
You can tell a lot about people by how they set up for a meal. The little interactions that speak far louder than words about a group's dynamic. Letting myself fall back a bit, I took a moment to take them in.
Alan walked to the head of large table and immediately sat down, talking to Danny the whole way. Danny replied, carrying his half of the conversation but didn't immediately sit. Anne grabbed a large bowl of salad and a plate of breads before heading to the table, setting both in their places then taking her seat next to Mr. Barnes. Emma, like her dad, just walked to the table and took her place next to Anne while Mrs. Barnes disappeared into the kitchen.
Interesting, and more importantly, telling.
Following Mrs. Barnes, I entered the kitchen. "Can I help?"
"Oh, no dear. There's no need for that."
"I don't mind," I assured her smiling. "How about I take these two for you? Save you an extra trip."
Seeming a bit flustered, Mrs. Barnes nodded. "If you're sure, dear?"
Smiling, I picked up the dishes and headed back into the dining room. Ignoring the looks I received from the others, I set the dishes where Anne suggested and took the seat Danny pulled out for me.
"Thank you, Danny."
"You're welcome, Renée," he returned.
"Why don't you call him Dad. It's weird," Emma asked, pointingly. "He is your dad, right?"
"Emma," Mr. Barnes said in a warning tone.
Anne seemed to half expect it and rolled her eyes. Emma ignored them both, keeping her focus on me.
"A rather personal question," I said evenly. "But one I'll answer. Danny suggested it after we confirmed we were related. He felt that considering my amnesia, it would be easier on me as we rebuilt our relationship than forcing me into it."
"Sensible," Alan said in a tone that was clearly directed at Emma. "Very sensible."
Emma ignored her father's chiding, looking more thoughtful and confused than aggressive. The arrival of Mrs. Barnes partially dispelled the awkwardness.
Various foods were passed around among a clatter of plates, thank you's, and requests for one thing or another. Once everyone had their plates just the way they wanted them, we started eating. In between bites the expected questions came up from all quarters.
What was New Orleans like, how did Danny find me, what was the orphanage like, was I surprised to see him, and similar questions to sate their curiosity. Danny answered most of those he could with an aplomb that was, quite frankly, impressive. Those that he couldn't answer, I did, though my answers tended to make Danny smirk, or choke depending on when I caught him as I answered. Especially those questions that were asked about what I did during the last two years.
"You worked?" Mrs. Barnes asked, seemingly shocked.
"Of course," I answered easily. "The orphanage was run mostly by donations. Those of us too old to be adopted usually went out and found what jobs we could to support ourselves so the sisters could concentrate on those of us that couldn't. I helped Sister Patricia do their taxes this year and I know for a fact most of the donations came from us, those they helped get started. We couldn't do that without working."
"But you are too young to get a real job," Emma commented. I doubted anyone else but Danny caught her emphasis on 'real' but I did. "And you didn't have any ID."
"True," I casually threw back, not rising to the bait. "But there is always work for those who are willing to go look for it."
"So, what kind of work did you get into?" Anne asked knowingly. Ah, maybe we weren't the only ones to catch it.
"Room cleaning was popular with some of us," I answered. "With the local hotels, and if we were lucky, private homes. A good group were regulars doing that kind of thing and were very good at it. Pays well enough if you are quiet, fast, and never seen doing it. Then there was courier work. Running goods from one place to another. You would be amazed at how many people need items moved from one location to another, fast."
Ignoring Danny's choke, as I caught him eating this time, I continued. "My favorite though was working on the docks. Sometimes cleaning boats that hunted the bayou or gave tours. Sometimes I would skin gators. Gators paid more, but you had to be there when the hunters came in or you missed out."
"Seriously?" Anne asked, an amused and slightly awed look in her eyes. "You skinned alligators?"
"Only during the season, but yeah. People go out into the bayou, sometimes on a public hunt or sometimes by themselves. They get one and come in thinking they can handle it. But gators take some work to skin right. Thick hide, so you have to work the knife, just so. But I found that once they're hung up, it's easy work. Just messy," I explained confidently, turning to Emma as I finished. "It's not for everyone, but I never minded cutting open a body and rendering it down to parts."
Danny kicked my foot, clearly catching on to what I was doing. Keeping my expression polite and not giving anything away, I continued, "It pays very well, but again, only during the season. The rest of the time I had other jobs I would work. It wasn't anything for several of us to work multiple jobs a day. Bus boy, dishes, whatever we could find. If you're competent, management usually kept you in mind when they needed something doing. That was how I was supporting myself when Danny found me."
Which was all true, after a fashion, but where it really paid out was for when you needed an alibi. Being seen in public like that while a mystery was taking place did wonders for obfuscating a criminal investigation that was coming. Even if it was only people saying you were there doing it, and you pre-established that, yes, you did that kind of thing and had witnesses. But I didn't add that bit. I could tell Danny had the right idea though by the way he looked like he was holding in his laughter at how I was spinning the facts.
"That sounds like you had a nice system going," Mr. Barnes remarked respectfully. "Very creative problem solving. Especially considering all your handicaps."
"When Danny found me I was doing quite well. I had a regular business going," I said, smirking. "Very profitable."
Next to me, Danny licked his lips. For a moment, I almost thought I got him to lose it, but he held on, smiling proudly. Even still, I could see the light dancing in his eyes.
Thankfully for him, questions moved away from similar topics to the more mundane of how we were doing now, how I liked Brockton Bay - it was cold, which earned me a few chuckles - and other questions in the same vein. Before much longer, dinner was done and we headed back into the living room.
There it was suggested by Mr. Barnes that Emma and I might like some time to catch up and we could head up to her room. Surprisingly, Emma agreed and started walking right away as if she expected me to follow her.
I debated it a moment before doing so. I was curious what she would say when no one was around. She had that look to her that said she had something to say.
Anne didn't seem to like the idea but was pulled into a conversation with Danny and Mr. Barnes about something. I didn't catch what, as I was already heading up stairs.
It was decorated in a similar manner as the rest of the house had been, tastefully, and clearly with a theme I wasn't familiar with enough to place, but knew existed. Eventually, the silent tour ended with Emma going into a room I assumed was her bedroom.
It was...nice?
No stuffies or anything silly anywhere and everything had that 'in fashion' feel or look to it. Nothing really seemed like a permanent feature, except for the pictures. One poster of a band I vaguely recognized the name of, a nice scenic painting, a couple of family photos that looked more obligatory than wanted, and a lot of pictures of herself in various poses and outfits that looked professionally done. Each of them looking like they were blown up or taken from a magazine.
And Simmons called me narcissistic? I should drag him here and show him the meaning of the word. Seriously, this room made me look downright humble.
Then some pieces fell into place. Emma's attitude, her questions, the way she looked at me. The strangeness started to make a little sense and my conclusions were not pleasant.
Crap. I used to be that friend to Emma. Well, that was embarrassing. No wonder this was going so well.
While I was looking around, Emma closed the door, turning to face me. Her face a road map in conflicting emotions. I let her get her thoughts together and waited for her to say whatever it was that was eating her.
"So… How much of that downstairs was bullshit?"
"None," I answered, giving nothing away.
Smirking, Emma pressed, "So then how much of what was said, wasn't all that there was?"
"Quite a lot," I replied honestly.
The girl deflated a little bit. Sort of sad, sort of wistful, but she was mostly brittle. "Yeah. Thought so."
Not exactly the… warmest, start to a conversation but this was going about how I expected it would. Kinda. Okay, not really, but it was progress of a kind.
"I'm… not sure what to say to you," I ventured. "You seemed to have had an opinion of me before I even stepped through the door. One that isn't stacking up."
"Taylor…"
"Renée."
"Stop that!"
"You seem a little hostile," I said blandly. "Would you like a moment?"
"Really. Hostile? Me!?" she snapped, then instantly her tone lightened again. "You know what? This is so not worth it. You don't even remember anything anyways. You wouldn't understand even if I used small words."
Passive aggressive much, Emma?
"Maybe, maybe not, but let me take a guess. You're angry that I left you. You're… probably angry that I can't be who I was before, and you're angry that you can't blame me for it, but you seem to be trying to anyway."
"Two out of three. Taylor is… you are the past. You remind me of the stupid little girl I used to be. I am not that weak idiot anymore."
"I can see that," I agreed with a glare. "And just so you know, I didn't come here looking for a friend I don't remember. I came here for the chicken."
She blinked, surprised.
I shrugged, explaining, "Sorry if that came out wrong, mon'amie. It's not you. Whoever you remember me as, that person is gone. I don't remember them. I only know who I am. Who Renée is."
"I don't think it came out wrong at all," Emma said strangely. "Taylor was a relic. Much as I hate to admit it, she was a little dunce. Fun to be around, but weak. Easily broken when life got tough. Then she abandoned me, when I needed her most. Apparently it wasn't your – her – fault, but that doesn't change what happened. I had to make it without her. I… outgrew her. But then again, maybe you did too."
It took considerable effort not to snort as I gazed at the expensive looking handbags and shoes. But then, what did I know about her life? The wealthy had their own burdens, even if they rested so much lighter on their shoulders.
Though being called a relic, even if I don't remember being Taylor, didn't sit well with me. Everything I learned about Taylor so far pointed to a dependable, intelligent girl that I would have loved to have as a friend. Loyal, hard working, smart, and definitely cut above most.
But all that was from Danny, who was obviously biased. Still...
"I didn't outgrow anyone," I replied flatly. "I just don't remember being the person you describe."
"Then you're lucky," Emma said surely. "Whatever you went through in New Orleans, isn't something Taylor would have survived."
"It's not something a lot of people could survive," I said. "Doesn't matter who you are talking about. I know several who didn't, but should have."
"That's...that's the way it is, though," Emma said sounding almost like she was trying to convince herself. "Shit happens. The weak don't make it, the strong survive. That's how it works."
I stared at her for a few seconds. I blinked. I stared for a few more moments trying to wrap my head around what she said.
"What idiot sold you on that lunacy?"
Emma glared.
I glared harder. "I've been kicking the shit out of people far stronger than I am for over two years. Let me tell you something; how tough you are means nothing on the streets. Everyone's vulnerable to something. Doesn't matter who you are or how strong you think you are. There's always a bigger gator in the bayou."
The girl snarled, "You're wrong. People who are truly strong can survive anything. I know. I'm a survivor."
How the fuck did we end up in a philosophical debate about…?
"You can't be this stupid," I mumbled. Not quietly enough for her not to hear though judging by her reaction. "If you were my best friend, maybe Taylor was the girl you described."
"What the hell does that mean?" Emma practically shouted.
"By your inane ideas, if I dropped you in New Orleans, right now, and took all your memories you'd be just fine and dandy?"
"I'd find a way," Emma said glaring at me. "You managed it. If Taylor could do it, I definitely could. "
"But not because you were strong. Not with that attitude. Maybe, maybe you'd get lucky and a nice druggy would let you live with a newfound humility after he beat you senseless or worse. That attitude of yours doesn't make a survivor, it makes a user. Users get by for a while, sure. They even do alright while they're on top, but without exception, like all tyrants, they end up getting dethroned by someone sooner or later."
"I am not a tyrant!"
"You act like a petty, spoilt rich girl who's had everything handed to her," I said honestly and without any emotion. "On the streets I've been on for the last two years, if I acted like you, I never would have made it. I'd have starved to death long ago."
I wasn't actually sure what to expect when I'd first came here tonight but apparently I'd finally run into the first mess Taylor had left behind for me to clean up. Her best friend had broken somehow, and whoever had fixed her had done a terrible job. Whoever this was, wasn't anything like Danny described.
My little rant seemed to take the fire out of her for the moment, I used it to continue. "I made connections that saved me. Saved. Me. I'm strong, don't you dare doubt that. Cross me, and I'll happily beat you into a hospital but without those people who had my back, I never would have made it."
"Yeah? You think you're so tough? Prove it."
I ignored her. "But there were days when I'd have traded all that strength in a heartbeat for people like Sam, Penny, and people like Danny. Everything else was… meaningless. What does it matter if you can break a nose if you're all alone?"
The girl stopped, staring at me as if I'd just told her the sun was overrated.
"How," Emma scoffed weakly, almost as if she wasn't even sure why she was doing it. "How the hell did you get by thinking like a weakling. You don't act like a survivor."
Suddenly it clicked. "You haven't even tried to befriend me…" I muttered, more to myself than her. "Just tried to figure out how this is going to fit into your worldview. It isn't. That you consider people a weakness, makes you one of the saddest people I've ever met. I hope you feel justified in your strength when you're all alone."
She found her own conviction quick and I could almost see her psyching herself up for her next point. She looked at me with the same disdain that I was sure I was giving her. "Strength is all that matters! The strong don't need anyone. I don't need anyone. Certainly not you!"
"I'm not asking for you to want me, much less need me," I returned casually. "To be honest, you would just drag me down."
Emma reeled back as if I had slapped her.
"You don't get it," I said, shaking my head. "And I don't really care about you enough to force you to see."
I got up and made to leave the room.
"W-wait! Where are you going? You can't just leave!"
"And why not, ma chère?" I asked allowing my amusement at her antics to show. "Will the tyrant demand that I stay and feed her ego? Goodbye Emma. It has not been a pleasure. Talk to me when your madness has passed. Until then, good luck, survivor."