M For Moscow

39 | bid, bid, bade?

Murmurs, flashes, recorders, a video camera: they were all around me. As soon as I stepped out of the limousine, I was exposed.

More murmurs, more flashes, more recorders, a video camera: they turned to me. Taking in every angle, every flaw, every part of me I didn't know I had and turning it into something evil, something I despised.

It was a gift, really. I'd give 'em that. If only they pried on someone else's life and not mine.

"Is that Macy Rhodes back from the dead?"

"That can't be her, she hung herself!"

"I heard it was slits?"

"Slits? She OD'ed!"

I had chosen the perfect look tonight. A pristine white silk jumpsuit, a clutch with a snake ring and a large Picture hat that did its job of masking my true identity until I willed it.

And oh boy did I will it.

In my stilettos that could break any boy's windpipe, I walked steadily over to the video camera where a lady with curls extended a microphone. Smiling, I snatched it out of her hands and held it for myself, my acrylic nails wrapping around the smooth metal like a snake curling around its victim.

Basking in the glory, I slowly opened my red lips to speak. "You have three questions."

They started asking immediately.

Through the eager screams, the outrush of cries, I selectively chose the first one, like pulling a lucky draw out of a box.

"Macy! Macy! Are you back for good?"

"Yes," I answered, looking directly into the camera and hoping they had live Moscow Monthly news in prison, "I am."

"Where were you for the past year?"

"I had to get away for a while." I replied in the same sweet tone I had gone over with with Horatio just hours before my big comeback. Make yourself the victim, "After everything that happened last year, to me, it was too much to be in the city. But I'm back and I plan on staying."

Absolute lie. At least my ex-boyfriend came in handy even if it was just stealing his words.

The truth was I wasn't planning a comeback. I was ready to give up the fame, to make a family and watch my kids grow up to be world-changers all from my indoors kitchen. I wasn't planning to return to Moscow.

Until I got the phone call that changed everything.

The last person hit the jackpot: "What are you doing here tonight?"

I was waiting for this question all day.

"I'm here to buy a building." I told the interviewer, turning my attention to the letters reflected in the sky, pointed by a light just next to the red carpet entrance. It read: Moscow 50th Auction Night.

"Which building?" The reporter asked again.

I moved closer to the camera. "Karina's."

***

Miron leaned in to whisper, "I'm so going in for the tiramisu next."

I glanced over at him when he lifted the plate and downed the rest of the cheesecake in one tasteful bite. I feigned a look of disgust.

"It's a miracle you can eat at a time like this." I whispered back, abruptly clapping when the auctioneer slammed the gavel for a building that looked like it was missing a head.