High Frequency

Daylight creeped in the east. Sunlight fell through the foyer windows, beaming soft light and dust danced. It was silent in the old Victorian save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. The furniture hadn’t been dusted in weeks, the glass mirrors were aged with streaks. Some had small chips and if one noticed them, they’d notice the other dents and broken things in the house. Throughout the old home there were boards swelling up from water damage brought by rain. Old gunshot holes speckled the kitchen, a bathroom, and the wall of the stairs. A couple of the steps were missing, others were halved and at one point there had been carpet; stubborn nails clung to small tears of dirty red fabric. The second floor was in no better shape. Hardly any decor was updated, as if the century never left.

Birds chirped outside, but their singsongs stopped when a dark navy truck spun to a halt in its gravel courtyard. The sunlit dust swirled when Slate threw open the old doors, still bloody and ruffled from the shootout a night ago.

“Sevigny!” he boomed through the old home. He kept stomping down the halls, heading to the stairs. He hollered his boss’s name once more and was surprised when he saw the old man sitting in the office chair downstairs just as he passed the entryway. His boots squeaked on the old wood when he quickly turned back to enter. Remedy slowly came in through the doors, closing them with her heel. She had managed to clean the blood off her face, but like Slate she had gone unkempt. With her interview in a few days, hopefully she could calm the cut down enough to cover it up. She walked slow after Slate, seeing him turn into the office.

“I’m surprised you’re still alive,” Slate said as he approached the large oversized desk. Behind it, pale but recovering was an older gentleman with a receding peppered white hairline. His mustache and beard were trimmed, but he left the stubble across his jawlines and up into his sideburns. His sclera were red and his eyes had circles underneath. When Remedy saw him she wondered just how ill he had been the past couple days.

Sevigny smiled short and glanced at one of the windows, blinking a few times with raised brows. Perhaps he couldn’t believe he wasn’t dead yet, either.

“Another day to complain. I say a mild success.”

“Wasn’t much of a success,” Slate breathed. “But the next time you need someone to negotiate with that guy, keep Remmy out of it. You owe more than what you did yesterday.” Sevigny was too exhausted already, so if this stressed him more they couldn’t tell. His eyes just languidly blinked, looking between the two of them.

“You weren’t winning that conversation Slate. If anything you were close to attacking Klaue. We’d be dead with Jace,” Remedy said, crossing her arms. Her boss was focused on the red cut on her face. He looked sorry and opened a drawer in his desk, digging around for something. Slate continued on about what happened, about how he pushed the collateral but Klaue was too stubborn to take it. Then Remedy agreeing to jack up interest and by the end of the night he was fleeing Johannesburg in a crap ass jalopy of a vehicle with someone else’s blood all over his face, scuttling the airfield like lost ducks. Sevigny pulled out a small tube of witch hazel and set it on the desk. The point of Slate’s detailed outburst was that it was a pain in the ass and he wanted extra pay.

“When you can afford to give it to me, anyway,” Slate added, breathless now that he had ranted. Remedy eyed Sevigny’s strewn paperwork on the desk, all in shorthand. Sevigny held his hands out in a tired motion.

“Fine,” he replied. “Fine...I’m just glad that the two of you made it back in tact.” He gestured to the space behind them, but had no words for the other one who didn’t return. Remedy shook her head and looked away from him. Emotions conflicted inside her from betrayal to anger and grief.

“Are you finished Slate?” She had questions of her own and his repeated complaints wore her out more than the run from Johannesburg. He was tired of her too, he did nothing but berate her about what she did in the club. She had bruises on her skin from Slate tugging her along to keep up and when she slowed down he shouted at her. They didn’t even rest on the plane. He gave her a look and backed out of the room, apparently done.

“I have a short timer, Sevigny,” he said.

“If I have to meet that man again, you’re giving me my own terms.” He spun and walked out, his steps heavy walking up the steps and across the second floor. Remedy rubbed her temples and decided to pull one of the old chairs closer to her boss’s desk. The two of them were quiet for a few moments, waiting for the other to start speaking first.

“He talks as if I don’t know him,” he muttered and scribbled on the paper in front of him. He nudged the witch hazel towards her, but she shook her head. He gestured to her bullet nick.

“Is that your only wound, Remmy?” the old man asked. Remedy exhaled loudly, thinking how to answer him. She’d been with him since she was a teenager, both her and Slate. He taught her what he could about the business, but also tried to be more than a boss to her. Sometimes she could share her feelings with him and sometimes she couldn’t.

“Physically, not really,” Remedy answered and looked up.

“Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t pay him?” Before he could answer she kept talking.

“I could’ve helped you find a better solution or wired extra funds from somewhere, I don’t know, but I could have helped you make that go so much smoother.”

“It didn’t go smoothly because Klaue is an ass.” Sevigny made a noise in his throat and turned to the extended desk beside him. He moved a few things aside before pulling out a decanter of brandy hiding in plain sight. He set it down in front of him and searched for two glasses. Remedy noticed he was trying not to leave the chair. There was a knocking noise from inside the house, like someone beating hard on the walls. The pipes were old and always clacked when someone started one of the showers. Slate was winding down, finally.

“Back in Bangkok, when I had to steal with him I literally had to do things to the T, yet he was unpredictable. At the end of everything we agreed exactly on what he wanted. No room for negotiation, no substitution, whatever he said went.” Sevigny found what he was looking for and pulled two small shot glasses from two different spots in his desk. The thing was always a mess, yet organized. She imagined it to be like Mary Poppins’ bag of magic. He carefully poured two drinks with a shaking hand, then set one aside for her. He downed his glass and coughed. The shot glass reminded her of Jace and she grimaced.

“I thought there was a chance he’d accept it,” Sevigny stared out across the room, sighing heavily. Remedy saw he really believed it and she recalled how Klaue took time to look the piece over. Sevigny wasn’t entirely wrong, but shit still hit the fan.

“It could’ve have worked better if you let me help,” she said. Her boss shook his head and tried to pour himself another glass, but it sploshed. She reached out and took the decanter away from him. He stared at the half empty glass.

“I didn’t tell you anything because I knew you were leaving me. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with glassy eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was because he was sad or in physical pain. He never talked about the pain.

“Plus, there’s nothing you could have done for this one. Most of my accounts are drained now and it all happened last minute,” he said. Instantly Remedy huffed. She set the decanter out of his reach and still ignored her own shot.

“I could have added my savings in there. It would’ve passed," she muttered. Her boss smiled at her and ticked a finger.

“And I didn’t want you to do that,” he said.

“I’m a grown woman, I can do what I want with my money.”

“I’m not letting you pay for my mishap.” He drank his glass again and set it aside, still smiling. The past couple years she had noticed him strangely weak on random days. He’d look awful for about a week then bounce back like nothing happened. She could tell he was ill, but he didn’t like talking about it. No one talked about it, but it bothered everyone. On those days he was sick, he could never swerve properly or at all. Swerving was his main way of traveling about, but it hurt if he couldn’t do it right. Even if he had the money, he’d still have trouble reaching Klaue in time, and reaching him while so sick was a bad show.

She watched him read over his own handwriting, studying his face.

“I deserve an explanation, Beau,” she said. There was a long silence between them. The birds outside chirped, wind chimes blew in a breeze. The pipes knocked again when Slate got out of the shower. For a second she feared he’d come back down to complain again, but he didn’t. Hopefully he passed out. She didn’t realize how tired she was feeling until she placed her head in her hand.

“It’s not just me, you know,” he started.

“Lately business everywhere has been awful. I’m not the only man suffering; there’s no work and canceled deals. Everything just went wrong all at once for me and I had nothing to pull out of the banks for Klaue.” She felt there was more to it; his illness was definitely a part of it. The silence returned and she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. She’d have to settle for the crumbs of his story.

“I want you to give me your actual numbers later,” she said. Fixing the paperwork was going to bug her knowing it was wrong. The last time she ran everything was a few days ago. If things dropped as quick as he said, everything was behind. She stood slowly, her legs sore. Sevigny tried to stand up with her, but faltered. He leaned against the desk and groaned. She wanted to reach out, but didn’t. He didn’t want her help. He never wanted help when he was hurting.

“Did you already a secure another job?” he asked. Whether it was the pain or emotion, seeing him broke like that made her hesitate. Time was the only thing that attached her to Sevigny, or so she wanted to believed. He was someone she took orders from and she tried to keep it that way. Motherly instincts kicked in for other people, but for him she always paused. It wasn’t that she hated him, bonding was too difficult given their history. Her heart belonged to the one thing she lost long ago and could never get back, but now with Min’s help she could finally start over.

“I have an interview with an adoption agency in Seoul," she started.

“I’m going to help translate for English couples.” Talking about it made her smile in light of everything.

“Not a bad place to start...hopefully, you get what you want.” They both knew the topic was hard for her and this was something she’d been planning for a while. She looked away anyhow, trying to avoid the memories of her teenage years. Sevigny sat down in his chair again and sighed with relief. He downed full shot glass.

“Let me know when it’s official- and Remmy,” he said when she started to walk off. He stretched the witch hazel out to her and reluctantly she took it.

“I’m terribly sorry you met Ulysses in such a way.” She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but she checked her cheek and shrugged. It was part of the business and she hadn’t gotten the worst of the encounter. She thought about the dealer backlighted in the room, arms on the chair rests, grinning. In control.

She turned and walked off.

Her shower was cold; she didn’t care. It felt like a punishment she needed, but for what she couldn’t answer. Maybe for Jace, maybe because she did make things worse and was leaving it for everyone else. Over time Remedy became used to seeing people die while on the job. It had been a while since the last time it happened in front of her, even longer since blood hit her face. It was worse when she actually liked the person.

It had to be afternoon when she dressed and did up her hair. Her stomach ached for food, but her body was too tired. In her room her walls were plain with bent wires and broken picture hooks. The floor warped, the small old furniture was stacked with misplaced clothing or books that ranged between English and Korean. There were loose spreadsheets and small handbooks on accounting with many dogeared pages. She closed the old blue curtains, ignoring their musty smell, and crawled into her downy covers. The crinkle of the comforter relaxed her.

She slept into the next day, after breakfast, but before lunch. Slate's truck was parked, but he was gone from the property. Sevigny had secluded himself in the master bedroom on the first floor. The doors were locked and she could hear the melody of a timely song in French from the side. Alone, she cooked and ate a meal big enough for two people, but still munched on a popsicle as she sat down at Sevigny’s desk. He left a small list of valid accounts to work with only; all his other ones she couldn’t fix. Remedy corrected the numbers in shorthand before moving them to spreadsheets in the computer. It took most of her day, but to the side she made her checklist for Seoul.

She could only take what was really needed. A lot of her books would have to be shipped to the new address Min secured for her. Remedy wondered when she and Zeke would show, but given Sevigny’s situation it would be soon. When night fell, Remedy flipped on the lights to the porch, the halls and dining room. Sevigny remained secluded. She preheated the corner oven for frozen pizzas, the small stereo on the counter played outdated country music. It interfered a little. Just as she sat to ponder anything else she needed for her move, she heard the double doors open.

“I AM SADNESS!” a small voice piped out loud. Min’s tall, slender self spun into the threshold, black hair whipping as she grabbed hold of the siding with a mock pout behind her mask. Her round eyes reminded Remedy of a small child.

“Remmy how could you! My spa buddy is leaving! Who will shop with me to build bears and bubble the fountains?”

Not long after her, a young, narrow man with tight curls came up, duffel bags in each hand. He was wide eyed, shaking a little. He tried to smile but it was nervous.

“You know I’m going to have to go with her now, right?” he said. “She’s going to make me sit and get my nails done. I’m going to be driving at two-twenty from police with nine inch teal nails and glitter.” Min smacked him on the arm playfully.

“Don’t be ridiculous; swarovski crystals are better.”

“No,” Zeke replied but he was smiling anyway. He dropped the duffel bags and they sat at the table with Remedy. An awkward silence fell over. Zeke’s leg bounced up and down repeatedly, a tic he always had when something was going wrong.

“Shame about Jace,” Zeke said. The girls nodded. Min pouted her lip behind her mask.

“I’m going to miss my little Nysnc. He was too cute. I’ll miss you two spazzing out together,” she said, looking over at Zeke. Remedy smiled at several memories then swallowed hard. It was final when they talked about it, but saying how it happened was so normal by now. Talking about how one died became akeen to talking about the weather.

“So, when is your interview?” Zeke asked.

“In a few days. Thanks to Min though, I can settle a little easier. I know everything sucks right now, but I really do appreciate you giving me your old apartment.” Remedy smiled at her friend. Min waved a hand as if it were nothing.

“At least I’ll know where you will be and can pop in on my weeks off,” Min smiled behind her mask. “Besides, it may not even work out. You will still have a place to stay if that happens.” She sounded almost hopeful when she spoke and tensed her shoulders, fidgeting her nails. She didn’t want Remedy to leave, neither of them did; but they were being polite about it anyhow.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Remedy said and crossed her arms. If their doubt didn’t bother her before, it did now. Along with the situation between her boss and the arms dealer she was fighting the pressure to stay. Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and went over numbers again in her head. They should be okay.

“Don’t worry about whats-his-face,” Min said. Often she knew what was on someone’s mind. She was intuitive, sometimes it was helpful and sometimes it freaked everyone out.

“Leave him to Slate and Sevigny; they kept all of us out anyway.” She sounded bitter about the lie. Zeke made a sound, not saying anything, but he was staring at Remedy’s face. She absentmindedly rubbed the cut. They weren’t used to seeing wounds on her.

“This really couldn’t of been taken care of with a phone call?” Zeke asked, looking between the two of them. He didn’t like to get too mixed up with clients or their details either. He preferred to just know where they were going, when, and what was he driving. Remedy shook her head and looked down.

“Klaue calls you, you don’t call him unless he considers you important.” She shrugged; it’s what was explained to her on the plane a couple days ago because she asked the same thing. Sevigny was given a time and date, then a reminder. He was small scale compared to whoever else Klaue dealt with.

“Guess Klaue considered him important enough to not kill, then,” Zeke said.

“That’s because now, he’s got more money coming to him,” Slate broke in. He was leaning on the threshold, unclean and sweaty. He must’ve been out in the woods all day.

“Those two have a history, but either way we’re still fucked because Remedy slipped the negotiation.” His tone and eyes already exhausted her. She set her hands on the table and bore into him.

“I’m not doing this again. You’re a broken record.”

“And you’re ditching a financial disaster for chopsticks and K-pop.” At his retort Min glared at him, not taking lightly to his comment. Zeke put a hand on her arm, then turned in his chair to hold one up to Slate and asked him to tone down his irritation. The way he asked, Slate didn’t retaliate and seemed too tired to continue the argument in the kitchen. He simply rolled off the wall out into the hallway, disappearing out the front doors. Remedy stared after him knowing she’d have to address this before she left. He was the biggest pain in her ass, but like Sevigny time bonded them. She excused herself and walked out. Min huffed in response.

“Look I’ll put the pizzas in. You okay with pizza tonight, right?” He was looking at the boxes from the freezer. “We got cheese, pepperoni, barbeque. And Hawai- damn it who keeps bringing this nasty shit back in here.”

“I like the pineapple one,” Min pouted behind her mask. Zeke grabbed it and shoved the others back in the freezer.

“Hawaiian it is.”

Remedy followed Slate out onto the porch and shut both of the doors as quietly as she could. She turned to Slate leaning on a post, arms crossed looking out at the gravel courtyard and into the dark woods. Zeke’s right hand hatchback was parked a distance from Slate’s pickup. Crickets chirped and the breeze was mildly cooler. She walked up to the opposite post and stood there, hand on the wood.

“Leaving the business has always been an end goal for you,” Slate muttered then looked over at her. She didn’t meet his gaze. “You're stupid to leave. Reintegration for people like us doesn’t work out successfully. It’s a false ideal in your head. I don’t get why you still want to do it.”

“Because I’m tired of “the business,”” she quoted with her fingers. She rolled her eyes and looked at him. Slate never liked the idea that she wanted to go. Personally he thought it was best to live the way they did, off grid and not tied down to society normalcies. It was also because he himself could not go back and didn’t get why she wanted to try a normal life.

“You’re doing it at a hell of a time,” he said.

“This was well before Klaue. Sevigny already told me himself it’s not my mistake to fix.” As soon as she said it Slate’s gaze flickered from anger to pain then anger again.

“That doesn’t make it any less reason to sort shit out and make sure no reprimandices follow you there,” he said. Remedy paused; it wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of enemies tracking her down once she was by herself. She looked back to the house and imagined Sevigny lying ill inside all day trying to sort out extra money for the arms dealer. She had to trust he’d actually do his end this time, because she had taken steps to secure her identity and cover her trails.

“I might see the guy again. You think I want to?” Slate added, speaking in a harsh whisper and stepping near her. He lingered by her side and she hated the feeling. She imagined him and Klaue meeting again, both getting frustrated, both disagreeing and then another shootout.

“It wasn’t my mistake or yours, but you still have an obligation to us.” He grabbed her arm out of spite. It wasn’t hard as it had been the night before, when he was dragging her to get out of Johannesburg. He turned her body until she finally looked up at him.

“Our lives are too intertwined,” he said. “We’ve been in this forever and you’re still going to hightail it just because Sevigny’s says it’s okay.”

She backhanded his hold off her.

“Then maybe the two of you should of let me help to begin with. I understand that Klaue is a hovering height of doom here, but Sevigny wants to deal with it himself. He took the loan from the guy, I don’t know what for, he hasn’t told anyone, and he intended to pay Klaue back. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped and I no longer want to be involved in this.” As she talked her voice became louder. Slate hit his hands together out of irritation.

“You already are!  We're on the radar now. You’ve seen his face back there; remember how he looked at us? You really want to leave knowing that man has a hit on you already?” His voice escalated, he was yelling now. His eyes were wide, bewildered. He thought she was stupid. He kept clenching his hands into fists, trying to get a handle on himself. Remedy heard some of the pipes in the house knock and tried to level her frustration for Slate’s sake.

“I prepared everything, Slate. No trails.” She toned down her voice, keeping it steady.

“I was hardly in the field, so there’s no media pictures of me. And I know we’ve all been together for a while but I hate this job. You know I hate it.” Slate just nodded firmly, not in understanding, but because she was talking and he was trying to hold his tongue. He wouldn’t look at her even as she tried to keep his gaze.

“I highly doubt you’ll talk with Klaue again, anyway. Sevigny has to fix this, so he’s going to do it right. They have history, like you said.” It was hard to picture their boss, who was stern with a sweet smile, working alongside that sweaty dealer back in Africa who sneered with a hatefulness that had to be second nature to him. For a split second, Remedy doubted things would be okay.

“Whatever makes you feel better.” It was all she got out of him. He walked off the porch and back into the darkness, getting into his vehicle. She watched him drive off and heaved a shaky sigh. It was hard reasoning with Slate, he took everything so personal. He made it sound like he was concerned for her safety, but really it was a try at scaring her to stay. Everyone wanted her to stay, except her. It made it harder to go.

In the morning, Sevigny was well enough to walk without his cane. His color returned to a healthy tone, his eyes were no longer bloodshot and he moved without any sort of pain at all. He smiled as he looked around outside, they had all gathered out back under one of the large hornbeam trees. It’s leaves blew in the wind. Everyone dressed in black attire, Min and Remedy in short black dresses holding their white balloons, pink strings flicking from a gust. The men in button ups and slacks; Zeke held the third balloon. Sevigny folded his hands over one another at his waist and looked up at the sky, nodding.

“We’re familiar with death,” he started. “It gets to a point that people like us are desensitized to it. However, we are still human, and still feel when someone we’ve grown attached to passes on.” He made an expression.

“I must use that term lightly; this was a pretty brutal way to go, but rest assured Jace didn’t feel a thing. His presence was fairly rare among us, but- it was enough. He arrived when we needed him, he did his job a little scantily but young ones learn from repetition.” Remedy and Slate glanced at each other then looked away.

“I’d like to think in time, Jace would have excelled at what he wanted with a humor we will miss. May the young man rest in peace.” There was a brief pause as the wind blew gently, then picked up. Three white balloons bounded into the air, squeaking when they hit each other. Remedy sighed watching them float up, sweet and childlike compared to the picture in her head. His gunshot hole. His eyes staring up. She almost rubbed her cheek, but stopped herself.

“Is it too early to sing Bye-Bye-Bye?'' Min whispered.

“Babe really.”

“I’m kidding!” Min was smiling behind her mask, but her eyes were glassy. Zeke shook his head, but he wasn’t upset. He put his arm around her and they all watched the balloons float out of sight.