NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | ✓

07: serial killer vibe

            My body is too jittery to drive yet. The adrenaline drains at a nebbish pace, making me feel like I've got thrice the usual number of limbs and somehow also zero. So we sit in the car while I try to breathe through the vines, negotiate their retreat to my spine until I get into bed and they're free to infest every joint.

Despite my resolution to not talk about this until Cece sobers up, I hold my hand out. 'Give it over, then.'

They blink innocently at me but decide not to do the song and dance of pretending they don't know what I'm talking about. Cece finishes the text he's typing, checking in with Diwa and the others before they dig the ID card from their pocket. Instead of placing it in my open palm, they chuck it at me.

The photo shows a handsome Asian man. Asymmetrical dimples, downturned eyes, tawny skin. Michael Khair.

Looks fuck all like Cece, save for the brown skin and curly black hair.

'This isn't even a fake ID. This is someone else's ID. You stole this from someone?'

'Yep.'

'How'd you manage that?'

'It's not Ocean's Eleven. They left it on the counter.'

I look at the photograph for a moment longer before pocketing the card. 'You'll give it back.'

'I don't know the bloke.'

'Google him then,' I seethe. 'You can send him a message on Facebook.'

'What century d'you think I'm from that you reckon I've got Facebook?'

When I don't smile, their confidence flickers. Through their intoxication, understanding is slow to unfurl until Cece realises that I'm dead serious about him returning it and the grin drops. 'Can't I just drop it at the police–?'

'No.'

I'm about to lecture him that if they want to avoid awkward confrontations then don't steal people's shit when a silhouette rounds the dark corner of The Neon Aeon. It's Joe, out of her uniform. I twist the key from the ignition in case Cece gets impatient and decides to try driving themself home.

'¡Quieto!' I command as I climb out of the car and Cece flips me off through the windscreen.

'Hey!' I call and Joe's focus flinches from her phone. I start to jog across the street, then jerk to a walk. Should probably not run at women who don't know me in the middle of the night.

An easy smile spreads on her face when she recognises me. 'Hi—um, sorry, what's your name again?'

'Nikki,' I say and grimace.

I don't have time to correct myself before Joe repeats, 'Nikki.' She smiles again and hooks her bi-flag tote bag higher on her shoulder. Her eyeliner, I notice now, is also done in the bi colours.

'Did you get off work?' I ask though it's a dense fucking question. I doubt she'd change out of her uniform just to go on a break.

'No, I got sacked.' Joe laughs at my horror. 'Don't worry about it. It would've happened soon enough anyway. I have this thing where I can't keep a job for more than three months. And I did just almost serve a bunch of underage kids alcohol.'

I cover my face in my hands, rake my fingers to the back of my head. My eyes lock with hers, begging her to admit this is just a wind-up. But, though Joe continues to smile, all perfect teeth, she doesn't break the act.

'It's okay.' She sounds like she reckons it really is okay. 'My parents won't be thrilled but it's not like this is my first time disappointing them.'

I squeeze my head like it'll force this knowledge out before I drop my arms to my sides. 'I just wanted to say thank you. Or sorry. Why not both? So thank you. And I am well sorry. And now I'm sorry ten times over cause I've just got you sacked.'