That night as I was undressing for bed, I felt the business card in my pocket. Pulling it out and examining it, I noted it was really just a basic red — the colour of blood — card with white lettering on it.
'Baylen' and then a phone number in white ink it said.
I put the card on my dresser and went to bed. I didn't know why I even accepted his card. It was not like I was gonna use it. It would only lead to trouble and yet I had left it on my dresser instead of the trash can next to it.
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Days passed since I last saw them. They had kept their word and didn't visit me again. Then days turned into weeks. I was thankful for the return of the peace and quiet. Though why should I be thankful for the basic human decency of leaving me alone. Still I was grateful.
I thought about them about them once in a while. A fleeing thought passing through. Those thoughts were there enough that I found myself weeks after with the line ringing.
A single 'Hello' in my mother tongue echoed through the line.
"Hello Baylen," I replied with a heavy accent.
"Mikhael," he breathed through the line. "Never thought I would hear from you again. To what do I owe the pleasure."
I smiled, "Wanted to let you know, I've accepted your offer."
He chuckled breathlessly, not believing what he heard — the unexpected happening. "That's great. Under what name can I register you?"
He wanted to know whether Mikhael or Bryce Devereaux would join the cause. It was his lucky day. "As him," I responded, not daring to utter the name — my name — in case the call was tapped.
He laughed with an edge of hysteria, "I knew it. I fucking knew it. You're good, ya know?"
I chuckled, "We'll meet soon, I presume."
"Yes, we'll see each other very soon."
"Until then, Baylen."
"Until then."
I cut the call and removed the SIM card from the burner phone. It was the only phone I had in case of the utmost emergencies or calls like these. I broke SIM card and would dispose of the phone soon.
A new chapter of my life just started. It made me cackle almost maniacally. My life consisted of clearly divided chapters. All very different from other. Chapters wasn't even the right word. My life consisted of stories. Stories, because you could always start over and change it all up.
And it was time to leave this story behind and start a new one — one with a blank slate. The Red City was something of the past. Mikhael was something of the past. It was time for a new story. And I looked forward to it. I truly did.
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