Tetris in Red

05: Tetris in Sight

05: Tetris in Sight

Alec

"Are you freaking serious right now?" I throw a glare towards Holland's direction after I saw what he put in my Instagram story. "Is this a big 'fuck you' to your terrible investigators? Giving the people more reasons to hound Tetris?"

My hand snatches a beer on the table. Swallowing a huge gulp, my throat immediately burns from the metallic taste. I need the amber liquid to calm my fuzzy nerves as I think of what kind of damages the simple story can do.

It's too late to remove the post now that it's been viewed a million times. I don't even want to know how many tweets it takes to make it today's number one trend on Twitter. I click the hashtag earlier and scrolled down a little until the speculations got too personal that I needed to close the app.

"Is that even a question?" Toro, my drummer, asks with a laugh.

"He brought a chicken in as a pet," Peyton, my guitarist, pipes in. "Nothing ridiculous he'll ever do isn't serious at this point."

Holland scoffs. "Chickens are great pets. They feed me when I'm too lazy to get groceries."

The two guys snicker while I glare at him. "Besides the point, Holland. We don't even know her motives and you put her in the limelight already."

He rolls his eyes. "Give me enough credits, Alec. The fans had set their eyes on her now. If she fucked you up, I doubt your precious fans wouldn't think twice to hold her up to you like a sacred offering. I know what I'm doing."

"And what if she didn't?"

"Then all is well. You're safe and we have our answers." He smirks and rests his chin on his knuckles. "And your mind will be back in peace."

He snaps his fingers twice and proceeds to eat Peyton's chips.

"What the fuck, dude?"

Rhys

"Good God," I mutter as we round the corner.

A battalion of Paparazzi lines the narrow street that leads to my apartment. There's also a healthy amount of people with a banner on hand—the hashtag Alec put in his story written on them in fancy letters.

I have no idea how I will walk to my apartment without attracting attention. But I have to try. Rosie stands beside me with Tripper sitting in her arms, his big, black eyes blinking in curiosity. She's rubbing his chin, which I bet is the only thing that's keeping him from barking or cowering in fear. The noise the crowd's creating is deafening, especially when you're too close. I can imagine the vendors and residents complaining about the chaos.

Rosie and Tripper's presence is loud, too, which makes my heart a little jittery on the inside with the fear of being noticed. Aside from the fact that Tripper is a dog and very much adorable; Rosie is five-nine with strawberry blonde hair and a colorful outfit to match. Most days, my appearance can attract several eyes as well. But I'm hoping my navy green cap, sleeveless hoodie and huge sunglasses can keep me under wraps a while longer.

I pull Rosie to another alleyway and hide behind a dumpster. "Tell me again why did we even walk Tripper when he's already panting after walking for five minutes?"

"Because he needed fresh air and we didn't need him pooping around the house?"

"He's potty trained. Why did we even bother?" I rub my forehead, trying to think of an easy escape plan. "Jesus, Rosie. We underestimated the situation."

She eyes me grimly. "We sure did."

I begin to pace. "There was no one outside when we walked out of the building at four AM, how did they go from zero to a hundred after three hours?" I look at Rosie, who's trying hard not to laugh. "Don't even think about it. I'm highly stressed right now. I don't even know what to do with myself."

Despite my warning, a chuckle escapes her lips, which aggravates me a little more. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, sweetie. What do you need?"

My shoulders drop as my heart thaws inside my ribcage. This is what I love about Rosie. She knows what I'm going to do that day and why. She warns me not to do it. Not to even think about it. But I still did anyway.

I told her everything after the news broke the other day. I didn't receive any I told you so, you shouldn't have done that or you should've listened to me. Instead, she gave me her utmost support and still told me that she's there when I need her. That's after she laughed her ass off when I finished, though.

My mind travels back to the situation at hand as the noise on the other street grows louder. I stand there and collect my thoughts. I know I have to thread the situation carefully. There's not a lot I can do, being a normal person and all.

But there's only one thing that won't fuel this chaos: Let this die down before I plan my next move.

I'm not done with him yet. I'm not sure if this is a part of his plan. But if he thinks this is going to scare me...

Bring it on.

xxx

I gave it three days.

I've been staying in a hotel outside of town in three freaking days. The sudden action put a huge dent on my bank account, but not huge enough to make me broke. Those layouts I've been designing for my clients are enough to have me settled for a year without moving a limb.

Rosie told me that the strange men circling around our place were nowhere to be found. The paparazzi had also diminished one by one when they finally figured out that there's no story to wait for in there.

I'm pulling my small luggage down the stairs of the two-story hotel I'm staying at when the rollers get stuck. My stomach is growling like a goddamn dinosaur. I don't need this right now. I huff out a frustrated breath as I gather all my remaining strength before pulling once more.

I shouldn't have pushed my luck.

As the rollers snap free, my whole body is thrown backward. I hear something snapped as I fall down the rest of the stairs. There are only two more steps left. I should thank the gods I chose a low-cost hotel and didn't fall down a generous flight. But when you can't support your weight with your left foot? Fuck all the gods.

They just fucking left me with a twisted ankle.

"Are you really that clumsy? Or do you just like putting yourself in an accident and calling out the gods for it?" I hear a familiar voice say.

I'm a grumpy, hungry woman with a twisted ankle. In short, I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone. I look up to snarl at the guy who had the nerve to call me out in such an ungodly situation. But when my eyes meet his, I quickly apologize to the gods and ask them to have the ground swallow me as a payment for my earlier sin.

Because Benadryl isn't going to be a valid excuse to not face him this time.

No.

With the stern look on Alec MacSweeny's face, he's surely going to force me to talk.