Red

Chapter Fourteen: Arabian Nights

I slumped into the precinct, exhausted from all the running. 

"But why wasn't he there, Gran?" I sighed. 

"He'll be there," Gran promised. "We just have to be patient." 

"Patience is not my strong suit," I muttered. 

"Jeez, you're slow when you're tired." Gran lifted me up, and I didn't even have the strength to protest. 

After setting me down at his desk, Gran went out to Moondollar to find me a coffee. 

I tried to ignore Goldie's burning glare, but it nearly set my hair on fire. I swivelled the chair so I could look her in the eye. "What's your problem?" I snapped. 

Goldie rolled her eyes. "Do you even have any proof it's Arreus Clawman?" 

"If you don't know, then obviously you don't need to know," I said, leaning back in the chair. 

"Stop acting all high-and-mighty, Red. We're exactly the same. You're. Just. Lucky." With each word, she slammed her manicured hand on her desk, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. "So don't you think for a second you're better than me." 

I froze, unsure of what to do. I hardly knew how to deal with angry people, especially Goldie. "I don't- I'm not lucky." 

"Oh, yes you are." Goldie let out a bitter laugh. "You were never caught and I was." 

"Caught?" My breath stopped. 

"Yes, Red, darling. I know what you did. I know why you have such a- vendetta against Arreus. We were taken into custody around the same time, remember?" Her smile was sickly-sweet. 

A buzzer sounded. 

"Oh." Goldie tossed her hair. "Mind getting that for me?" 

I stood up quickly. "Fine." 

I jogged down the stairs to the front desk, where a girl about my age was waiting. 

Her dark hair was fashionably curled and flowed over her shoulder, and her dark chocolatey skin was flawless. She had large round golden sunglasses obscuring her eyes that went perfectly with her small handbag dangling from her wrist and her unbelieveably high pumps, and somehow she pulled off the soft mint harem pants she was wearing. Her plum-coloured shirt was so short I could see her gold belly button piercing. 

It was Jazz Chada, literally named the most beautiful girl in the country. And one of the media princesses. 

She thrust out a perfectly manicured hand. Her nails were a pale pink. "I'm Jazz, and you are?" 

"Red. Benedict. Can I help you?" 

"Yeah, uh, my friends are being murdered. And I have far too many things to do with my life than just die at seventeen so I'm here to request a protective squad," she said. 

"Well, we don't really-" 

"Listen, Red." She lifted up her sunglasses. Her eyes were almost black and her lashes were so long they touched the sunglass lenses. "I'm not actually asking. I'm here to get a protective squad and I'm not leaving without one." 

"Well-" 

"Besides," she added, digging into her handbag, "I'm tired of carrying this around." She waved a small pistol around before sticking it back in her bag. 

I leaned away from the gun. "Listen, Jazz, I'd love to help, but I barely even work here." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I recognize you now. You were with Gran Vega at Eloise's, right?"