Artie pulled over outside a Korean market Themis did not recognize, next to an apartment building she knew like the back of her hand. It was by no means fancy, old like the rest of the town, but well maintained and clean. The entrance was a few feet from the road, a few marble stairs separating it from the curb. Artie would have parked closer, if not for the comically rge Hummer already occupying the space at the front of the building.

  “Who’s this jackass?” Themis asked as she dismounted, taking her helmet off.

  “Oh, some bigshot moneybags from Sacramento,” Artie sighed. “Real estate development. They moved in a few months ago and they’ve been buying out the town piece by piece since.”

  “Odin knows?”

  “She knows,” Artie said, looking at her sister from head to toe. “I know what you are thinking, and you should drop it. Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll deal with it when we deal with it.”

  Themis smiled. “Stupid? I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, pnting a kiss on her sister’s helmet. “Where are you off to, now?”

  “Gotta round up the girls for a meeting,” Artie said, looking grim. “Yourself included. Odin called for a full house.”

  Themis’ heart sank. “Don’t let me keep you then,” she said. “When?”

  “Couple of hours,” Artie said, turning the engine on. “Get something to eat, clean up, and come meet us.”

  “What, no ride from my favourite sister who I love so much?”

  “Is that a way to talk to me, prospect?” Artie chuckled. Themis waved at her as she drove away.

  Themis’s smile faded as she lost sight of her sister’s back. To work now. She walked to the Hummer slowly. The car was big, too big for the city, and she didn’t need Artie to tell her it did not belong to a local. She inspected the generic California license ptes and the nearly brand new tires, the outside was waxed and shined under the sun. Whoever it was that owned it was seriously loaded. Next she tried to peek through the tinted windows, when suddenly the gss was rolled down and she jumped.

  “Jesus!” she excimed, her heart pummeling in her chest.

  “Hello,” she heard a voice. “Can I help you with something?”

  Themis looked up, to a pale woman with brown straight hair framing her face smiling at her. Her mouth was wide, her teeth perfectly straight and whiter than any Themis had ever seen. Her voice was soft, a tint of a tease at the edge of it, but she sounded nice.

  “Hi, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was inside,” Themis pyed dumb. “I was just checking the car out, we don’t see many beasts like her around here.”

  “Are you a fan of cars?” the woman asked.

  “I love them,” Themis lied, scratching the back of her head. Truth be told, they all looked the same to her. She couldn’t tell a sedan from a coupe or a crossover if her life depended on it. “I’m Themis, by the way. Themis Adamou.”

  “Tracey Morgan,” the woman introduced herself. “Nice to meet a fellow enthusiast like yourself, Themis.”

  “You too, hehe,” Themis said. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Sorry again, I feel so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be, these things happen,” Tracey said, fshing her another smile. “See you around, Themis.”

  The way Tracey said her name made Themis wince. Regardless, she turned around, her dumb smile fading as soon as she was out of sight. She entered the apartment building, climbing up the stairs two by two, almost giddy to be back. She wondered how many of her neighbors still lived there. The super, Mr. Brown, always joked about retiring when his daughter’s gym was set up, selling everything and moving to Hawaii to spend his twilight years with a mojito at hand and beautiful girls cooling him down with fans made of giant leaves. Then there was Mrs Beckham and her daughter on the second floor, Lobo Carera and Masai Shakur on the third, and finally herself by her lonesome on the fourth. Above her was the roof, and the smell of barbecue had seeped through every wall, nook and cranny of the floor. Though it smelled older than it used to be. Perhaps they were due for a cookout.

  She froze as she took a look at her old apartment’s door. It had been a while. Foolish as it was, when she was taken away she thought she’d never see it again. And yet, there it was, just as she left it a whole year and then some ter. Suddenly a thought occurred, cold sweat forming on her brow. She didn’t have her key. She didn’t even know if the club took care of her rent. And why would they, she wasn’t even a member. Fuck, why didn’t she think to ask Artie. And why would Artie drop her off there on her own? She knew she didn’t have the key. Was she fucking with her? She had to be, Artie had no boundaries when it came to pranks. What the fuck would she do? No money in her pocket, no phone. She didn’t have anywhere else to go after disappearing for so long.

  She took her anger out on the ‘Welcome’ mat, kicking it with a year’s worth of accumuted malice. There was a white envelope underneath it. She picked it up, inspecting it for any marks or writing. Nothing. Please don’t be anthrax, please don’t be anthrax, please don’t be anthrax, she thought as she tore it open. Much to her relief, there was no anthrax in the envelope. She assumed so, at least, since she didn’t actually know what anthrax looked like and she wasn’t dying; that had to be a good sign, right? She flipped it over an open hand. A key and a note fell on her palm. The note was conic, and straight to the point. It simply read ‘Got you’ in Artie’s handwriting. Themis sighed. Sometimes the threat of a prank was more effective than an actual prank.