Alicia

Alicia wasn’t normally this nervous. She’d never owed anyone a debt before. She’d always been a good kid. No drugs, no gambling. If it weren’t for her mom’s gambling problems, she probably wouldn’t know the difference between a bookie and a bookworm. But, unfortunately, she didn’t have that luxury. When her mom died of a stroke last week, Alicia unfortunately took on her mom’s sizable debts. She had a steady job, and was slowly paying them off, but clearly not quickly enough. After her last payment, Georg, the bookie, had gotten quite irate with her. She sat, relaxing, in her bubble bath, when her phone buzzed. It was a text, from Georg. Angrily, she opened the message.

It wasn’t a threat, or a demand. It was a string of ten numbers. A phone number, she mused. Confused but curious, she pressed the underlined number in the message, and selected call, then put the phone on speaker as she lay back in the bath. It rang once, then twice. Almost coinciding with the third ring, someone picked up the phone. “What’s happening?” the voice said. It was a woman’s voice, youthful but firm.

“I just got this number, like, a minute ago.” She spoke with confidence, trying to overwhelm the awkwardness of having a conversation in her bathtub.

“Right,” the woman said, “The daughter. I was expecting a call from you, your bookie took longer than he should have getting you my number. You can call me H. You’re going to be helping me out a bit.”

Something about this H. person’s voice was bugging Alicia, but she didn’t care about that much. “Who the heck are you?” Alicia said, quite confused about the whole situation.

The woman on the phone replied, “I told you that, already. I’m H. Mister H, if you’re feeling formal. You owed some real bad men lots of money, now you don’t. You owe me lots of money. And, unlike those real bad men, I’m a kind and forgiving soul. So, you’re going to do a few favors for me, and poof, all will be forgotten.”

Alicia chuckled, a laughter out of awkward confusion more than actual humor. “Um, what?” she asked.

The voice sighed. “Listen, I know this stuff is new to you, don’t worry too much about it, okay?” the voice was reassuring, very different than when Georg had wanted stuff from her. That just made Alicia more confused. The woman on the phone continued, “I’m not going to make you do anything illegal, I just need you to help me out a bit, okay? I know you didn’t do this to yourself, and so you got saddled with someone else’s problem. I’ve solved that for you. And, I know you don’t want this life. I’ve just got a few things I’d love for you to do, and then we can go our separate ways. Like ships passing in the night.”

Alicia sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Over the phone?” the voice joked, “What do you think I am, some sort of savage? No, you’re going to be receiving a package in a few seconds. Open it up soon, won’t you?” And, as soon as the woman spoke those words, she hung up the phone. Alicia groaned as she pulled the plug out of her tub’s drain.

“Guess the bath’ll have to wait,” she muttered to herself as she stood up and, wrapping the towel around herself, she walked to her apartment door.

Sure enough, sitting on her welcome mat, there was a small package. No stamp, no address, no name. Hoping and praying it wasn’t a bomb, Alicia brought the box into her home and cut it open. The only thing inside was an old-school flip phone. Just as she was pulling it out of the box, it buzzed. An unknown number had texted it. ‘Looking good, girl. Keep this with you, if you would. ;-)’

Alicia shook her head. Why on earth anyone would text simultaneously so well and so weirdly, she didn’t understand. This Mister H. woman was a strange one, indeed. Leaving the phone on the counter, she went back into her bedroom and got dressed for her Saturday of relaxation.

It was almost the moment that she had finished getting dressed and eating a quick breakfast that someone texted her again. ‘If you could, I left something for you in the back of my car. Would you be a dear and pick it up? I’m parked in the lot of the farmer’s market, north of town. The orange hatchback. Thanks.’ It was still a blocked number, but it was in the same message chain as the last text. Shaking her head, Alicia checked the phone out. There weren’t any numbers saved, no contacts, no data. It was a prepaid phone. Picking up her purse and putting the phone into it, she headed downstairs to her car. Getting in, she headed to the farmers market.

She didn’t normally go to the farmer’s market. It was a bit too hipster for her tastes. She preferred shopping at malls and stores, not weird booths in the middle of a park. That said, one of her girlfriends had forced her to go a few times, so she knew where it was. Pulling into the parking lot, she recognized the orange hatchback almost instantly. It most certainly wasn’t the woman on the phone’s car. It was her mom’s old gambling addict buddy, Thom’s. Shaking her head, Alicia parked her car in the lot and walked over. Sure enough, sitting in Thom’s back seat, there was a dry-cleaning bag. The door was also unlocked. Glancing around, Alicia opened the car’s back door and picked up the bag. She hurried back to her own car and, hanging the bag on one of the handles, she drove back to her apartment.

As she pulled into the garage, the flip phone buzzed again. ‘Thanks, dear. Bring it up to your apartment, if you would. You’ll be wearing it soon, after all.’ The text was irritating and condescending, but she owed this mysterious and annoying person still, so she listened. Carrying the bag with her, Alicia ascended the stairs to her apartment, and hung it on the coat hanger right inside the door. She unzipped the bag and looked at what lay inside. It was a beautiful dress, deep red and black. As she looked at it, her phone buzzed again. ‘You like it? Good. There’s this cocktail party I’ve been meaning to attend. Seventeenth and Q. Be there at seven, in that dress. Thank you, dear.’ Sighing at the blatant use of thanks to imply her involvement, Alicia headed back to her room. It seemed she had a party to deal with this evening. That meant she’d have to rest during the day time. Lying down on her mattress, she fell asleep.

Sooner than she expected, it was five thirty. She quickly made herself some pasta and, after eating it, pulled herself into the dress. It was a little tight on her, clearly it had been fitted for someone else. Oddly, however, it wasn’t too tight or small. Whoever this Mister H. lady was, she was roughly the same size as Alicia. Smiling at herself in the mirror and taking her time to put on her makeup, she finished getting ready for an evening of schmoozing with the local elite.

A town like this didn’t have much of a separation of rich and poor on the surface. They went to the same diners, the same stores, the same theaters, the same cafes. The difference was in their evening plans. The wealthy had far different parties than the poor. Alicia wasn’t actually rich. She wanted to be. She’d always dreamed of becoming rich. But she wasn’t. Her mom’s gambling had ensured that. Now, she had a chance of joining them, even if it was just for one night. Even if it was under false pretense. She drove across town to the location.

It was a mansion, because, of course it was, Alicia thought as she drove up to 17th and Q. Enormous. Old. Beautiful. She got out of the car and tossed the keys to the valet. They had a valet, she thought with a half-grin. A valet. She walked to the front door. The butler opened the door. “Welcome,” the butler said with a smile, opening the door for her.

“Thank you,” she replied with a nod as she entered. She noticed that he asked for names from the couple who followed her. How she’d managed to get in without a name was a mystery, she supposed. She headed deeper into the party.

The hostess stopped her before she made it to the refreshments table. “I’m so glad you could make it, sir,” she said. She was frightened, but happy.

“Of course, thank you for the invite,” Alicia replied.

A text came in. ‘Dear, would you be so kind as to tell the host, not the hostess, that you know, and he knows what he has to do for you to forget. He’ll understand. If he delays, tell him tomorrow at ten you’re posting. ;-)’

Alicia looked up at the hostess. “Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the host as well? I wish to thank him as well.” She hoped the honest question would be taken as such.

“Of course, sir,” the hostess replied, “I believe he’s in the kitchen, chilling the champagne.”

Alicia bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, dear,” she said, trying to mimic the voice of the texter.

“No problem, sir,” she replied, continuing forwards to greet the next couple.

Alicia headed to the kitchen. Sure enough, standing in front of the drinks table and setting bottles into the vat of ice, a tuxedoed man with a really nice rear end was waiting for her. He instantly recognized the dress and smiled at Alicia. “Hello,” she said, nervously.

Alicia sighed. “Listen,” she said, “I know, and you know what you have to do for me to forget.” She tried to be confident, but he could probably see that those words weren’t her own. Not that it mattered. The message was important, not the messenger.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “Give me until tomorrow, alright? I don’t want to ruin the party.”

Alicia shook her head, but answered. “Okay, dear, but tomorrow at ten I’m posted.”

The host furrowed his brow but nodded. “I’ll do it by nine, alright?” he replied.

Alicia didn’t answer, just walking away into the party. The phone buzzed one final time for the night. ‘Enjoy the party, dear. I know you love it.’ Others noted the dress, but she enjoyed the party all the same. Whoever this Mister H. was, she’d just made Alicia her face to these rich folk. Then again, any of them who knew her also knew her propensity for separating herself from the world. Whether or not they thought Alicia to be Mister H, she wasn’t sure, but she also knew that didn’t actually matter. Not to her. She was almost grateful that this mysterious benefactor had forced her into this. Now she was a part of the upper crust. And Alicia suspected that H. might wish to use her in this position again. Or she hoped, she wasn’t sure which. What she did know was that, if H. did ask her to play this game again, there was no way she would be near as hesitant the next time. That party was the best time she’d had in weeks. Months, even.

As the evening drew to a close, Alicia walked out with the first exodus of individuals. Lingering didn’t suit anyone. She picked up her car from the valets, and drove back across town to her small apartment. It felt even smaller now that she’d experienced that mansion. She stripped out of the dress and got into her nightgown, collapsing on the bed. As she drifted to sleep, she found herself wishing for a text to come into the little flip phone and interrupt her night’s sleep. Instead, she dreamt of those texts, and what they might have her doing in the future.