The Manolo Matrix by Julie Kenner Read Free Book Online Page A

pyrrhic.
    Fuck.
    Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    And, just for the hell of it…Fuck.
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    I didn’t know what to do. I might be the calm leading lady, but the fact was that I didn’t have a script. I
    didn’t know if I should be terrified (I was), proactive (how?), or if I should go hide under my Page 23

    bed
    (appealing). All I knew was that this message signaled the start of a deadly game. And somehow, someway, I was now right smack dab in the center of it.
    Unless it was a hoax!
    The possibility gave me something to cling to, and I started spinning scenarios in my head: Mel was irritated that I wasn’t supporting her attempts to figure out who was behind her ordeal last year. And so she’d sent this email to give me a taste of her medicine. That’s why she wasn’t answering her phone. And when shedid answer, I’d be pissed, but I’d have to agree that I sort of understood now.
    It was a wonderful scenario, but I knew it was only fiction. And since Mel still wasn’t answering her phone, there was only one way to find out. I picked up the phone again, then called the automated system at my bank. If the money wasn’t there, I was fine. It was just a stupid trick.
    I waited, drumming my fingers on the table as the voice went through the entire intro message, then punched in my account number, then 1 to retrieve my balance: $20,157.43.
    The one-hundred fifty-seven I’d been expecting. The twenty thou meant I was screwed. Even Mel wouldn’t transfer huge sums just to prove a point. This wasn’t a hoax, and I grabbed my cell phone once again and dialed 911.
    “911 operator. What is your emergency?”
    I stared at the phone, thinking about the message. “Expressly forbidden,” it said. And I also remembered something Mel had told me about how she and Matthew hadn’t called in the cops to help them, not until it was all over. Breaking the rules, Mel had said, would have been bad, bad, bad.
    “Please state your emergency.”
    “I…I’m sorry. I accidentally punched a speed-dial number. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
    “Miss? What is your location?”
    “I’m fine, really. I’m sorry. I’m okay. Bye.” I snapped my phone shut, then looked around frantically, half-expecting armed assassins to descend from ropes from my roof, machine guns ready to take me out.
    I’d broken a rule. I’d called the authorities. I didn’t remember exactly what the consequences were, and
    I wondered if I’d just fucked myself over royally.
    There was something perverse about convincing myself that I didn’t want the police riding to my rescue, but I told myself I’d done the right thing. Someone had just sucked me into a game that was played to the death. I didn’t know enough yet to risk disobeying the message.
    Mel had survived, but Mel is smart. Hell, Mel is a Mensa-certified genius.
    I couldn’t even get a callback audition.
    My mom had always told me that the odds of making it on Broadway were slim. But right then, I’d be more than happy to take those odds. Because I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that the
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    odds of surviving this game were even slimmer. Plus, now I wanted my mom. I didn’t call her, though.
    What could I say that wouldn’t make her call the cops?
    Without a plan or the police, and fueled only by adrenaline, I got up, sat down, got up, sat down, then got up again. Something familiar had tickled my brain, but I couldn’t remember what.
    Out of frustration, I grabbed my phone and dialed Mel again. Not too surprisingly, I still got no answer.
    Okay. Fine. Obviously I was in this on my own. I could handle that. I might not be a genius, but I Page 24

    wasn’t an idiot either. I sat myself back down in the seat, looked at the screen, and tried to think what to do.
    First thing, what did I know?
    Well, just from the message, I knew that even