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Chapter 21: The Northcott Liquorette

I don’t know why my breaths are coming in so short. Why didn’t she tell me years ago? What else did I forget?

So many questions...

“Really?” That’s all I can think to say.

Mãe turns away, she does this when she wants to avoid a topic. “You couldn’t remember anything that happened then either, the doctors had presumptions that maybe you were blind sided in the wreck, but no one knew-”

“Wait so who was driving?” I can hardly feel my body, it’s gone numb.

She breathes heavily, “The person that called for help, a civilian I believe it was a man, he told us you were driving.”


What the hell, none of this makes any sense at all. Well, maybe it does and I just can’t process it.

“Why was I driv-”

“Well pelo amor de Deus, I don’t know, Saphyre!” mãe shouts. She’s shaking now. I knew this was a bad idea, now that’s another notch on my belt for making someone feel guilty. “You did not seem like the type to be senseless so when they reported that to me I couldn’t even believe it.”

I take Mae into my arms and this triggers a flood of tears, “Mae, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

She slams her fist onto my chest in agony, “You were unconscious for so long, it was a painful thing to see as your mother, I just don’t understand how-how you don’t remember it.”

Shit, me either, Mae...but I feel after everything that has been going on, after the strange appearance of the man, there is only one way to find out.

I kiss the top of her head and release her, “It’s not your fault, you were only acting in my best interest and I cannot blame you for that.”

This feeling is too sure. That man knows something about my past. It’s just a sort of intuitive thought that I can not shake. He knew my name without any form of proper introduction. I mean he could have followed me, but he knew where I lived...


I rummage through my drawer in search for something Speak-Easy appropriate.

“Where are you going, what are you doing, Saphyre?” Mae asks moving to my side in haste.

I smile up at her, “I’m gonna go find my picture book.”



I put the car into park. My god, it took forever to find this...this place.

I’m not even sure if I’m here. I looked online and it said a reservation was needed, but I forgot to make one. Fuck up number one of the many thousands that may be made tonight.

Like showing up in the first place. I was sure to brief Gia before I left and of all the things she could ever tell me, she told me don’t die.

Well, I can’t guarantee that, granted the situation I’m in.

I kept it simple as for the dress code. I chose some black pumps and a high slit party dress that I bought just a few weeks ago for the hell of it. Gia thought my curves looked “intoxicating” in it. I mean, I’m not here to sweep the weird man off his feet, but I assume I need to make quite an impression in order to make it into this speakeasy.

The wind almost makes me slip out of place as I approach the alleyway of the building. One thing’s for sure, this place is very legit. The only way I knew I was in the right place was because of the mural of graffiti on the walls. They were an exact replica of the picture on google maps. Now all that’s left is to actually get in.

I cross my arms into my black fur coat. This better very much worth it. For some reason I feel very overdressed. Passerby’s laugh and chatter and for some reason every time they smile I feel it’s in my misery. I focus on my steps and getting to the blue door with the gold calligraphy writing on it.

And I think I have found it!

I clutch my purse close to me, looking around. This neighborhood is much like the one I used to live in, rural and bustling with party goers, civilians and hungry tourists.

This used to feel like home.

Now it’s unsettling, and it’s making my calf muscles stiff. Or maybe that’s the pumps.

Finally the door...I approach it to find a very authoritative looking figure wearing a black and white suit standing as stiff as a Nutcracker Soldier. The sun is down and he’s wearing sunglasses...

Great, this can get interesting.

I paint my best fake smile on, “Excuse me sir, is this the Northcott Liquorette?”

He looks down at me, “Do you have a reservation?”

Maybe that was the wrong question, but how rude of him not to answer it!

“Um, I don’t but I was supposed to meet a friend here around this time and-”

He clears his throat, “I’m sorry miss, but this place is for Reservation Only, I am afraid I cannot let you in.” He extends an arm blocking me from the door handle.

Can I finish a sentence, “I understand that, but, it is very important that I meet him.” I breathe. “Is there any other way that I can get in?”

The man looks up and sighs in irritation, “Do you know the name of the man you are supposed to meet, miss?”

“No, I am afraid I don’t but it’s only because we haven’t been able to acquaint ourselves on a first name basis quite yet.” I lower my head, removing a lock of hair from my eyes.

“I am sorry, ma’am if you cannot give me the name I cannot guarantee you a table, we run on a very specific system to ensure a quality environment for our guests.”

I’m slowly becoming irritated and I am sure he senses it, but he is trying to be understanding with me, “Sir, I understand that, I really do, and I hate to inconvenience you but can you please just this once-”

He holds out his hands in surrender, “I am only doing my job, if I let you-

“Is there a problem?”

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