Long Live the King

Three

She was curled up in her armchair, this time with one hand lingering up near her mouth and nothing around to occupy her attention. Even Mushroom had retreated to the far side of the room, settling for a quiet observation of her owner rather than an active pursuit of attention. Someone could be heard knocking on the door, light but urgent.

Adrienne hesitated, but only a moment before she pushed off the chair and crossed over to the door. As she reached it, three knocks sounded again in quick succession. It didn't sound like Marshall. Her forehead wrinkling, Adrienne pulled open the door just a crack.

Standing on the other side was a young woman, probably the same age as Adrienne, give or take a couple years. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but Adrienne felt certain that the woman was a stranger. She was shifting her weight back and forth, looking at the ground until the door opened a little wider. At that point, she glanced up quickly and gratefully.

"Adrienne King?" she asked with hope in her voice.

"Who's asking?"

"Gina? Regina Sturm?" She stuck one hand out toward the narrow crack between door and frame.

"Sturm..." Adrienne repeated, looking at that hand as though it might bite her. "Like Paul Sturm?"

"So you do recognize the name. I wasn't sure if you would. He's my uncle," Regina admitted apologetically, "but I assure you I never had anything to do with him and he's dead besides. I'm not here because of him. I'm here because... well, could we talk inside actually?"

"I'd really rather not."

"Oh." She glanced around. "Uhm, it's just that I'd prefer not to be overheard."

"No one is around. You can talk."

"Okay fine," Regina continued, speaking very fast. "You probably don't know this because you went AWOL, but after your father died there were two groups of people who got screwed by him. Group A took their losses and settled for celebrating his death. Group B came after my uncle demanding their money back. He was never any big threat like your father was, so people had no problem coming after him with torches and pitchforks. The thing is, now he's dead too so anybody he didn't pay back yet is shit out of luck, right? Except one: Brad Derrick. He showed up at my place a week ago demanding four million dollars and I don't have that kind of cash."

"Hang on." Adrienne held up a hand to stop her. Both girls looked down the hall, where one of Adrienne's neighbors was coming up the stairs with an armful of groceries and a young kid hanging on one arm. Adrienne jerked her head toward the inside of the apartment. "Come in."

"You don't think she heard anything, do you?" Regina asked, glancing at the shut door behind her.

"I doubt it. She's far too occupied taking care of that demon child. You were saying?"

"Right. Anyways, I tried reasoning with this guy. I obviously had nothing to do with the money he lost and it's a stretch to even blame my uncle because scummy as he was, your father was the brains behind the operation. It seemed to soften him a little, he dropped the demand down to two mill, but that's still a lot of money. Money that I don't have."

"He didn't drop the demand." Adrienne closed her eyes, forcing air out of her mouth. "Not really. He just spread it out and expects the other half from me. Thanks for that."

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean for that happen..."

"No, I know you didn't, but I don't have that kind of money either. Why the hell are you here?"

"Well, that's the good news I guess. I'm here because I think I might know how we can get the money. My uncle was always ranting on about some "secure accounts" that your father had. He wasn't always the most coherent but, based on the things he said, there might be more than enough money there to get this guy off our backs. I mean, I thought it was just my back but I guess it's our backs now."