C. Omololu - Intuition

“Do you think I should do it?”

Griffon hesitates and glances at the closed door of Janine’s office. “No.” His golden eyes widen and he looks directly at me for the first time. “It’s too dangerous. Even with Giselle there. This thing is way out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” I repeat, crossing my arms in front of me. “You just don’t think I’m good enough to help the Sekhem. That I still need to be protected by people who are bigger and smarter and stronger than I am.” I can feel my words tumble over each other as I speak, the anger building in my body. “Protect the poor innocent Shewi girl because she can’t help herself. That’s what this is about.”

“That’s not . . .” Griffon starts to say something, but instead pushes past me in frustration and takes the stairs two at a time. I stand at the top watching him go until I hear the outside door slam on the bottom floor, giving me a sense of satisfaction I haven’t felt in a while.

I can hear everyone talking as I open Janine’s office door, but they all fall silent as I enter. I look around at their expectant faces and realize it’s not just about me anymore.

“I’ll do it.”

I look out the window and watch the buildings go by on Market Street. It would be so easy to just stay on the bus, riding until it doesn’t go any farther and I’m the last person on board. But I already told Drew that I’d come and the Sekhem are expecting my help, so I pull myself out of my seat and push the red stop button.

After jumping to the pavement, I head toward the Embarcadero, looking in shop windows as I pass. I’ve been thinking all week about what to get Drew for a housewarming present, because it’s not like I can stop at a store and get him a nice bottle of wine like a normal dinner guest, and he can obviously buy anything else he needs. There’s a flower stand on the corner that’s still open and I stop to take a look, but bringing him a bunch of flowers would be weird.

“Can I help you?” An older woman in an apron appears at my side.

“I don’t think so,” I say, backing away.

“Is there a special occasion?”

“Housewarming,” I say. “But it’s for a guy, so flowers won’t really work.”

“How about a plant? A house isn’t really a home until there are some plants.” She leans around a big bucket of sunflowers and pulls a small pot of ivy off a shelf. “This one is guy-proof. Doesn’t take a lot of care and actually likes to dry out between waterings. He’ll have to try to kill it.”

I look around. It’s getting late and I can’t think of a better idea. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it.”

I continue down the street, feeling a little ridiculous with the plant in my hand, like I’m taking it out for a walk or something. I turn right and head toward Mission Street, checking the address on my phone as I go. I almost never come this far downtown, and I’m not sure I have the right place when I stop in front of the tallest building down here that has the right street numbers in gold over the front door.

I walk through the glass doors into what looks like the lobby of the fanciest hotel in town. The lighting is low, but it reflects off the different colored marble on the floors, where several cleanlined couches and chairs wait patiently on a large, ornate rug. I feel eyes on me and look over to see a man in a suit behind a large marble counter staring at me, because a girl in jeans carrying a pot of ivy is so obviously out of place here. I duck back out the door and grab my phone.

I hesitate before I pull up his number. Maybe this is a sign I shouldn’t be here at all. I take a deep breath and push Talk.

Drew answers in one ring. I can hear music and voices in the background. “Hey! Are you on the way? I can come and get you.”

The sound of his voice makes me stop for a second. Nobody else in this whole city would be as glad to see me as Drew seems to be. “No . . . I’m not sure . . .” I look back through the glass doors. The snooty guy in the suit is watching me. I crane my neck in order to see the top of the gigantic building. “I’m not sure I have the right address.”

He recites the numbers for me again, and they definitely match what’s on the building. “Is there a guy at the desk down there?”

“Yeah. He looks mean.”

Drew laughs. “That’s Larry. Just tell him you’re here to see me and he’ll send you up. I’ll be waiting as soon as you get off the elevator. Hurry.”

“Okay.” I walk back through the doors and up to the counter before I lose my nerve. “I’m here for . . .” I look at the address again. “The apartment number he gave me is GPH.” I glance up hopefully.

Larry raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly at my plant. “GPH stands for Grand Penthouse.”

I swallow. Of course. Bugatti, penthouse; I should have known. “Right. Drew Braithwaite.”

He looks down at something on the desk. “Your name?”

“Cole Ryan.”

Larry slowly runs a pen down a list and looks up again. “Take that elevator all the way down to the left. I’ll call it for you.”

“Thanks,” I say in the sweetest tone I can manage. The doors open as soon as I approach and close silently behind me as soon as I enter. There are no buttons on the wall. Just some mysterious slots and what looks like a camera mounted in the ceiling. I think about waving, but figure that Larry is already watching me and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. The elevator shifts slightly and I realize it’s rising fast. Quicker than I’d thought possible, the doors open again, and instead of a hallway, I’m in what looks like Drew’s apartment. Or somebody’s apartment, but not the one of your typical twenty-year-old guy. The place is huge, with oversized brown suede couches and chairs set in groups around the room, with sophisticated lighting and what I think they refer to on the design shows on TV as “window treatments.” Not a discarded T-shirt or written-on whiteboard in sight. All the furniture is just a stage for the wall of windows that are opposite the elevator. I barely glance at them before I start to break out into a sweat. We’re so high up that you can see forever—over the buildings and the hills to the horizon, where there’s still the faintest hint of an orange sunset. I swallow hard and pull my eyes away from the view.

“You’re here!” Drew says, walking to meet me. He leans forward like he’s going to give me a hug, but decides against it and just clasps his hands behind his back. “What do you think?”

“It’s amazing.” There are people all over the two rooms I can see from here, sitting on couches and perching on the arms of the chairs. Like at the club, they are all different ages, but everyone has something about them that makes you look twice. Not to mention that they all look expensive. I scan their faces and wonder if any of them are the person the Sekhem are looking for. If maybe somewhere among these well-dressed people is the one who’s willing to risk it all for ultimate power. My heart sinks just a little as I realize there must be at least thirty people in these two rooms alone. Even if I was great at it, I’d never be able to read all of them in such a short time.

“Come look out the windows,” Drew says, interrupting my thoughts. “They’re the best thing about this apartment and the reason I bought it in the first place.”

I instinctively put my hand on the wall behind me, just to feel something solid. “Maybe later.”

Drew glances at the windows and then back at me. “Are you afraid of heights?”

I nod quickly. “A little.”

“Views are overrated anyway. When you’ve seen one group of buildings, you’ve seen them all. I know that what you’d really like to see are the fabulous appetizers made by my wonderful caterers.”

“More my speed, I think.” I glance back to the windows. “How high up are we?”

Drew smiles. “Sixty-fifth floor.”

I can tell my smile is all teeth and no feeling. “Great.”

“Is that for me?” Drew asks as we walk farther into the apartment.

“What?” I look down at my hand. I’ve forgotten all about the ivy, which now seems like the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. “Oh. I’d like to say no, but I can’t come up with any other reason I’d be carrying a plant around.” I hand it to him. “Happy housewarming.”

“It’s perfect.” Drew sets the little plant in the silver wrapping on a glass table, where it looks totally out of place. “The designer didn’t put nearly enough plants in here.” He beams at me. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

He leans over to a large round platter of appetizers. “Ooh, you have to try one of these.” Drew hands me a tiny triangle of bread with something on it. “Totally rare. You’ll love it.”

I take a bite and it tastes like the ocean threw up in my mouth. I quickly spit the leftovers into my napkin and look around for something to take the salty edge off.

Drew laughs at my reaction. “So much for my special Almas caviar. Do you need a drink?”

I nod quickly, hoping that I’m not going to be sick here in front of everyone, and almost as fast, there is a glass of white wine in my hand. I take a swig and it washes away some of the salty fish taste. “Sorry. I’ve never had caviar before.” I shudder a little at the memory.

“I’m guessing the raw oysters are probably not going to be your favorite either.” He looks around the coffee table. “Crab cakes?”

I nod and eat one quickly. “Now these are good.”

“Good. Take a couple and let’s go into the other room. I promise I’ll keep you away from the windows.”

I can feel Drew’s hand hovering over the small of my back as he leads me into the living room, but he doesn’t actually touch me. I’m a little annoyed that I even notice.

“So, we’ve been missing you lately,” a blond woman says to Drew, pulling him to the side. “You’ve been hiding yourself away.”

A guy standing with her nods in my direction. “And now I see why.” I can tell they’re both a little drunk already.

“I’ve been busy,” Drew says, smiling at me.

“Too busy for your oldest friends?” The woman pouts at him and then turns to me, waving her hand lazily. “Drew and I spent many years in Paris together.” She leans down and stage-whispers, “Not this time. A time before.” She leans back, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “Oh, the salons in the Saint-Germaindes-Prés. Late nights at Chez Ma Cousine. Paris in the twenties was really something to see. It would have been a shame to miss it.” She glances at me. “Or did you miss it?”

“I don’t know.” In the Clarissa lifetime I would have been in my forties in the nineteen twenties, so it’s possible I was there. “I don’t remember.”

The guy nudges me in a way I’ve come to find familiar with Iawi Ahket. “Ah, Shewi.” He leaves his hand on my arm a beat longer than necessary, I’m sure to try to find out if we’ve been connected before. I quickly try to block out the rest of the room and focus on him to see if there is something dark in his essence, but all I feel is a happiness that borders on giddy. Or that might just be the wine. “Such an interesting time,” he says, pulling his hand away from me, breaking our connection. “So much to discover.”

“It’s true,” I agree, giving him a smile. He has no idea I was reading him, and that makes me feel a little more confident.

Drew leads me farther into the living room, where several people pull him into a large group and he greets some new arrivals with hugs and cheek kisses. I look around but don’t feel comfortable just plopping down somewhere, so I hover on the edges. Someone laughs on the other side of the room and I see Giselle, perched on the corner of a low table, drink in hand, talking to an elegant African-American woman. She doesn’t look my way, but I can tell from her body language that she sees me. And that she wants me to see her.

Every few minutes there are more people coming off the elevator and into the room. There’s no way I’m going to be able to read each person individually, even if I had all night. I think back to the guy on the bridge that day, and how it seemed like there was a spotlight on him, separating him out from the hundreds of other people in the crowd that day. I wonder if I can do the same thing here. Janine says that empathy is just a higher form of intuition, and that if I allow my conscious mind to be free, my instincts will be my guide. Maybe I’ll be drawn to the people who need to be seen.

There’s a barking laugh to my right, and I turn back toward Drew. A couple of the people next to him are talking about a party that happened in France a few weeks ago, and I’m trying to listen in when my phone buzzes with a text. I reach into my pocket and pull it out.