16: Past Issues Intrude on the Present

I think perfection is ugly.
Somewhere in the things humans make,
I want to see scars, failure, disorder, distortion.

Yohji Yamamoto

The limo pulled up to the curb to a crowd of people, including plenty of photographers and a full news crew. Amanda put her hand on Em’s arm.

“There’s only one more interview, then we’re in the club and out of the public eye. Once there you’ll have to listen to us industry types drone on about our various projects. Think you can manage?”

Em patted her hand. “Don’t worry. You’re the one poking the angry bear, which you’ll have to fend off. I’ll be fine, though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep yanking me to the foreground. I prefer lurking in the back.”

Amanda laughed, not having put on her Mandy persona yet. “Yeah, it’s handy tossing you into an otherwise boring interview. The reporters bite their lips, afraid to mistakenly make an anti-gay quip. They may ask something innocuous, but they need time to process the information. I’ll get the tougher questions in the next few days. I expect to be weighing offers from the various networks throughout the night.”

Em rolled her eyes as their door opened. “And I’ll be stuck not drinking while you discuss details I can’t follow. Sounds like fun. You owe me again, but you can make up for it by stocking the jet with some decent wine.”

As Em assisted Amanda from the limousine, she could see her take on the role of Mandy again, her eyes sparkling, her breath deepening. The crowd was largely focused on everyone else and hadn’t noticed them yet. That only lasted a few steps, before someone exclaimed “There she is, the woman of the evening!”

Several people rushed forward to congratulate her while the onlookers behind the barricade snapped pictures. Em smiled as Mandy greeted each one, trying to remain in the background despite Mandy keeping her close. After they made it past a few people, and got marginally closer to the door, a voice rang out.

“Mandy! This is Giuliana from E-Live.”

Em’s date stopped what she was doing, waved, finished saying something to the people she was with, and started for the E! news team. Just as they took a few steps forward, someone shouted, “You’re not going anywhere, bitch!”

Surprised, they turned to see a muscular, gaunt man in a black trench coat, his neck decorated with bright tattoos, approaching. He’d apparently ducked under the barricade. Em glanced around, searching for security, but didn’t see any.

Amanda took a step back, raising her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Crap.” Her voice was shaky, nothing like it was only moments before. She seemed to shrink three sizes.

Stepping in front of her, Em pushed her back while facing the approaching stranger.

“You can’t get away this time. You owe me, and you’re going to pay for leading me on.”

“What’s his name,” Em whispered over her shoulder.

“Robert Chi.”

Em held both palms up, waving him back. “Robert. You don’t want to do this. This will be a world of trouble for you. If you leave now, you can still get away. If not, you’ll spend a lon—”

“Shut up. I don’t care about you, I’m after the bitch betraying me.”

Em kept walking Amanda backwards, but high heels in reverse on carpeting is difficult in the best of times. When a menacing stranger is approaching, you tend to not study your feet. Em instinctively reached to her side, finding nothing but a small clutch with nothing but makeup inside.

“Look, Robert, this is a bad time. We’ll talk when we have more—”

“She’s not playing me again.” He continued to approach, matching their pace. His eyes gleamed with a dark anger, his pupils about two times too large. “It’s payback time!”

The temperature was warm, it was L.A. after all, so it was in the mid-sixties even in winter, otherwise a beautiful night. But Em didn’t like the black leather trench coat. It was inappropriate for the weather. As a cop, she knew anytime a wacko wants to make a public statement, they wear long black coats to hide things.

Pressing Amanda back with one hand, Em stood her ground. “You’ll have to go through me.” Although Amanda took another step back, she didn’t go far.

Robert, grinning a lopsided smirk, reached into his jacket. Em, realizing things were escalating, considered charging him, but knew he’d extract whatever he had before she could reach him. Her form-fitting designer gown was more impediment than functional.

“Someone call 911,” she called behind her.

Robert dramatically flicked his wrist. A reflection flashed off the edge and a disturbing sharp ‘click’ sounded. He held a six-inch switchblade. It wasn’t a typical store-bought blade. Em could tell from the sheen of the weapon’s edge it was a highly refined blade. High-quality metals allows for finer refinements. This blade was honed in a way which cast light differently than the dull metal of a machine sharpened blade. She’d seen the same edges on samurai swords. Somehow Robert hired a master swordsmith to fashion an easily-hidden killing tool. The way he flicked the blade to and fro demonstrated he’d been practicing with it for some time.

“Oh, God,” Amanda gasped.

Never taking her eyes off Robert and his blade, Em searched his mannerisms for clues of his intent and strategy. His mouth curled into a twisted smile, the muscles in his dimples twitching. “You’d best get out my way, or your guts will spoil your, oh so pretty dress.”

Despite his demeanor, Robert wasn’t a bad-looking man. He’d seen better days, but wore a neatly-trimmed beard, short hair and the shaved sides proved he’d been to the stylist in preparation for this event. The bright red, blue and green tattoos spoke loudly of his background as they were finely crafted by a skilled tattooist. Those shades aren’t easy to construct, and the detail of the design took a long time to etch into the skin. Em guessed he’d picked them up while in Japan procuring the knife. Despite his thin frame and hollow cheeks, he was in excellent shape. She guessed he’d spent the last several months working out, preparing for this encounter.

“Where are the damn guards?” Amanda asked, her voice breaking.

Whispering, Em issued a quick instruction. “Get ou ... no, stay there. Whatever happens, don’t move. But when I say, scramble backwards.” With that, she stepped to the right, leaving an attack open to her left. “I’m warning you. If you don’t stop—”

“Shut up, bitch!” Robert muttered, his lips curling back in a snarl as he advanced.

Em took another small step to the right and forwards, putting distance between her and Amanda. When Robert reached them, flicking the knife in his right hand, he stretched out with his left to shove Em back with an open palm on her upper chest. As he moved, she swiveled away, catching his wrist. “Run!” she shouted. Unprepared, Robert twisted forward, only to be pulled off kilter as she spun around. Amanda backed up a step, but hesitated, not wanting to abandon Em.

Losing his balance, Robert took a fumbling step towards Em. She was already spinning, twisting his arm over at an odd slant. She raised it over his head, and he was forced to duck down to escape the angle she held it at.

“AAARGH!” His face locked in a rigor of intense pain. To prevent falling, he took two quick steps, making an awkward swipe at her with his blade, but she was behind him. She kept twisting the arm until something popped.

“Drop it or the arm breaks,” she warned in an even-tempered tone, hardly out of breath.

Robert’s face was a mosaic of agony etched across his features. His lip curled, flashing his pearly-white teeth, his brows knotted while he stared back at her. Sweat stood out along his brow and neck. Despite the intense pain she inflicted, he swung at her again as if feeling nothing.

With a sharp twist, his arm separated from his shoulder. “One elbow, one shoulder. Stop now or it turns serious!” Em spoke in a loud voice. She couldn’t see anyone else at the moment, the background was nothing more than flashing lights and swirling colors, but she wanted witnesses to hear the warnings. As long as she warned him, she could inflict substantial damage if he continued.

Ignoring her cautions, he fell on his right shoulder, pulling away just in time to land on his back and stabbing at Em from underneath her. But Em kept spinning. She’d hesitated while dislocating his shoulder, but now she spun rapidly, his hand still in hers. The knife sliced the open air and the angle forced Robert’s face into the carpeting covering the concrete walk. Em ended kicking Robert in the back. Her pointed toes did little damage, and while moving so quickly, she missed the kidney she was aiming for.

“Wish I had my damn boots,” she hissed. Robert, ignoring his arm tearing itself apart, rolled over to stab up at her again, never once loosening his grip on his switchblade. Sighing loudly, she gave one last warning. “You asked for it!” before leaping over the flashing weapon only to crash down again, her right knee connecting with his face.

His head smacked the carpet with a resounding crack and the expensive foreign blade flew away, skittering across the slick carpeting. The resulting silence was pronounced, interrupted by Em finally taking a gasping breath. Robert didn’t make a sound.

“Em!” Amanda gushed.

“Get back!” she warned. “You were supposed to be gone. What the hell good is getting stabbed, if you’re still here afterwards?”

With the silence surrounding them, the rapid beat of approaching boots reached them. “What’s happening?” one heavyset guard asked, his nightstick at the ready.

“Someone was calling for help,” his companion explained. “When we rushed to assist, they injured a woman and ran off. We couldn’t leave her.”

“You need to cuff him,” Em insisted, not lifting her knee. “He’s high on PCP, and he’s not reacting to pain.”

The first guard, an off-duty policeman, slowed upon reaching them, grasping a plastic tie as he reviewed the scene. “Honey, the guy ain’t going anywhere. Is he still breathing?”

Finally glancing down, Em rose and Robert’s head rolled to the side. His pupils weren’t visible, hidden inside his skull, unaffected by the glare of the lights which suddenly started flashing around them.

“He’s OK, aside from a dislocated wrist, shoulder and a severe concussion. Make sure the hospital knows so they can monitor him.”

The first guard rolled Robert over gingerly, afraid he’d suffered a spinal injury, snapping the clip around one wrist.

“Nu uh,” Em warned. “He seems to be on PCP or something more exotic. Once he comes to, he’ll respond like he just snorted a tablespoon of coke. Fasten it behind his back, so he can’t choke anyone with those meaty paws.”

Seeing Robert safely indisposed, Amanda threw her arms around Em from behind, clutching her tight. “Em, I thought you were a goner.”

Em held the arms wrapped around her chest. “Backing away, he thought he’d won. He was over confident, jumping into the gap I created.”

“Can you tell us what that was about?” Giuliana Rancic asked, rushing forwards with a microphone and a fashionable black gown threatening to fall below her bosom. “Who was the attacker, and what’s the name of your gorgeous rescuer?”

It was then the flashing, flickering lights registered on Em. The main light was from the film crew, who was filming Em, Robert and the two guards. Behind them and on the other side, stood dozens of witnesses snapping pictures and recording the entire event on their smartphones. Instead of rushing to safety while she wrestled with the armed attacker, there were now more people surrounding them than there were when the attack began.

Still holding Amanda’s arms, Em ignored the interruption, whispering over her shoulder. “Sorry to spoil your evening, but I’ll probably be indisposed for a while.” Turning to the guard, she asked, “Can we get Mandy inside, away from the cameras?” They both stood. “This is the last thing she needs after this.”

“Surely you won’t go without speaking to us,” Giuliana protested. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

The lead guard, an LAPD cop moonlighting for the night, watched Robert while his partner ordered the rubberneckers back, reviewed the scene.

“You a cop?”

“NYPD.”

He looked Em up and down. “You on duty? You got a gun?”

“No, to both. This was supposed to be a hot date. I wanted both hands to hold my sweetie,” she replied, batting her eyelashes. It wasn’t a tool she employed often, but she knew how to use it for the right occasions.

The guard grinned. “Your face will be plastered on every newspaper across the country by morning. You couldn’t run if you wanted to. Sure, take her inside. We’ll call you when the police arrive. They’ll need a statement, but we can keep them busy interviewing witnesses and collecting phone recordings for a while. Just don’t embarrass me for trusting you.”

“Girl scouts’ honor,” Em said, flashing them the three finger salute.

The guard laughed. “Go on, before I arrest you for being the cutest victim I’ve ever run across.”

“Please, a word from either you or Mandy,” Giuliana pleaded. “If you can’t do it now, we can take it inside.” She hesitated a moment. “Do you need medical care?”

Em stood, carefully avoiding stepping on Robert’s face. “Nope. I didn’t even pop out of my dress. I’ve got to learn what they use in the body glue. It’s indestructible!” She looked for her missing shoe, seeing it crumpled under Robert’s unconscious body. “Where’s a pair of decent work boots when you need them?”

That sealed the deal. The E! News team retreated inside the club, where they set up shop and filmed a fast three-minute interview which lasted twelve-and-a-half minutes. The music industry’s movers and shakers stood around, listening to every word. Em groaned to herself. This was not the way to avoid public scrutiny!

Em wiped her brow as the E! News crew packed up their equipment and exited the club following their interview. They were as interested in questioning Em as they were Mandy. “Well, I’m glad that’s done.” She headed towards the bar, but stopped to consider the crowded room before continuing. “It’s been a while. I’m afraid the cops must be here by now, and they’ll want to question me for the rest of the evening. It appears we won’t get a chance to spend any more time together on our big date.”

A security guard she hadn’t noticed standing by the door, strode up. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, but didn’t want to interrupt your interview.” He took a moment to formulate what he wanted to say. “The cops arrived some time ago. They’re busy collecting evidence. They want to talk to you, but said they’d be occupied for some time, so to unwind for a while.”

“Wow! You guys certainly run things differently here than we do in Manhattan.”

“Not really.” He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “One of the cops said they’d been told by the L.A. police commissioner to take it easy on you. He said treating you badly wouldn’t reflect well on us, but he’d also gotten good reports about you and knew you could be trusted. He said they’d clear you to head back to New York in the morning, knowing you’d return when needed.”