"No?" Miriam tutted. "Why is it you know so wel what
everyone else needs, but not yourself? Such a shame,
Paige. You should buy it."
I could pay my cel phone bil for the price of that box. I
shook my head, then cocked it to look at her. "Why are
you so convinced I know what everyone else needs?
That's a pretty broad statement."
Miriam tore the wrapper off a package of mints and put
one into her mouth. She sucked gently for a moment
before answering. "You've been a good customer. I've
seen you buy gifts, and sometimes things for yourself. I like
to think I know people. What they need and like. Why do
you think I have such atrocities on my shelves? Because
people want them."
I folowed her gaze to the shelf holding more porcelain
clowns. "Just because you want something doesn't mean
you should have it."
"Just because you want something doesn't mean you
should deny yourself the pleasure," Miriam said serenely.
"Buy yourself that box. You deserve it."
"I have nothing to write with it!"
"Letters to a sweetheart," she suggested.
"I don't have a sweetheart." I shook my head again.
"Sorry, Miriam. Can't do it now. Maybe some other time."
She sighed. "Fine, fine. Deny yourself the pleasure of
something pretty. You think that's what you need?"
"I think I need to pay my bils before I can buy luxuries,
that's what I think."
"Ah. Sensible." She inclined her head. "Practical. Not very romantic. That's you."
romantic. That's you."
"You can tel al that from the kind of paper I buy?" I put
my hands on my hips to stare at her. "C'mon."
Miriam shrugged, and it was easy to see how she must
have been as a young woman. Stubborn, graceful,
beautiful. "I can tel it by the paper you don't buy. When you're an old lady, you'l be wise like me, too."
"I hope so." I laughed.
"I hope you'l come back and buy yourself that box. It's
meant for you, Paige."
"I'l definitely think about it. Okay? Is that good enough?"
"If you buy the paper," Miriam told me, "I guarantee you'l find something worth writing in it."
Chapter 02
Shal we begin?
This is your first list.
You wil folow each instruction perfectly. There is no
margin for error. The penalty for failure is dismissal.
Your reward wil be my attention and command.
You wil write a list of ten. Five flaws. Five strengths.
Deliver them promptly to the address below.
The square envelope in my hand bore the faint ridges of
realy expensive paper and no glue on the flap, like the
reply envelope included with an invitation. I turned the
heavy, cream-colored card that had been inside it over
and over in my fingers. It felt like high-grade linen. Also
expensive. I fingered the slightly rough edge along one
side. Custom cut, maybe, from a larger sheet. Not quite
heavy enough to be a note card, but too thick to use in a
computer printer.
I lifted the envelope to my face and sniffed it. A faint,
I lifted the envelope to my face and sniffed it. A faint,
musky perfume clung to the paper, which was smooth but
also porous. I couldn't identify the scent, but it mingled
with the aroma of expensive ink and new paper until my
head wanted to spin.
I touched the black, looping letters. I didn't recognize the
handwriting, and the letter bore no signature. Each word
had been formed carefuly, each letter precisely drawn,
without the careless loops, ticks and whorls that marked
most people's writing. This looked practiced and efficient.
Faceless.
The paper listed a post-office box at one of the local
branch offices, and that was it. Since moving into
Riverview Manor five months ago, I'd received a few
advertising circulars, requests for charitable donations
addressed to two different former tenants and way too
many bils. I hadn't had any personal mail at al. I turned
the card over again, listening to the soft sigh of the paper
on my skin. It didn't have a name or address on the front.
Only a number, scrawled in the same languid hand as the
note. I looked closer, seeing what in my haste I hadn't
noticed before.
114
114
That explained it, then. This note wasn't for me at al. The
ink had smeared a little, turning the one into a passable
version of a four, if you weren't paying close attention.
Someone had stuffed this into my mailbox, 414, by
mistake.
At least it wasn't another baby shower or wedding
invitation from "friends" I hadn't seen in the past few years.
I wasn't a fan of being put on a loot-gathering mailing list
just because once upon a time we'd been in a math class
together.
"What's that?" Kira had come up behind me in a cloud of
cigarette odor and now dug her chin into my shoulder.
I don't know why I didn't want to show her, but I closed
the card and slipped it back into the envelope, then found
the right mailbox and shoved it through the slot. I peeked
into the glass window and saw it resting inside the metal
cave, slim and single and alone.
"Nothing. It wasn't for me."
"C'mon then, whore. Let's get upstairs. We have a
"C'mon then, whore. Let's get upstairs. We have a
threesome with Jose, Jack and Jim." She held up the
clanking paper grocery sack containing the bottles.
Every woman should have a slutty friend. The one who
makes her feel better about herself. Because no matter
how drunk she got the night before, or how many guys she
made out with at that party, or how short her skirt is, that
slutty friend wil always have been…wel…sluttier.
Kira and I had traded that role back and forth over the
years, a fact I would never be proud of but couldn't hide.
"It's not even eight o'clock. Things don't start jumping until
at least eleven."
"Which is why I stopped at the liquor store." She looked
around the lobby and raised both eyebrows. "Wow.
Nice."
I looked, too. I always did, even though I'd memorized
nearly every tile in the floor. "Thanks. C'mon, let's grab the
elevator."
She had to have been as equaly impressed with my
apartment, but she didn't say so. She swept through it,
opening cupboard doors and looking in my medicine
cabinet, and when it came time to eat the subs we'd
bought for dinner she made a show of setting my scarred
kitchen table with real plates instead of paper. But she
didn't tel me it was nice.
It was almost like old times as we giggled over our food
and watched reality TV at the same time. I hadn't forgotten
what a bizarre and hilarious sense of humor Kira had, but
it had been a long time since I laughed so hard my stomach
clenched into knots. I was suddenly glad I'd invited her
over. There's something nice about being with someone
who already knows al your faults and likes you anyway…
or at least doesn't like you any less because of them.
She had a new boyfriend. Tony something-or-other, I
didn't recognize the name. Kira had never mentioned him
in her text messages or occasional e-mails to me, but the
way she dropped it casualy into our conversation now
meant she wanted me to ask about him.
"How long have you been going out?" I leveled a shot of
Cuervo and studied it, not sure I wanted to take it. Once
upon a time I'd been able to toss them back without fear
of the consequences, but I hadn't done much drinking
lately. I pushed it toward her, instead.
Kira drank back the shot with a practiced gulp. "Since just