Reginald stifled a laugh. “The value of one week’s worth of rent for all your rooms.”
Phillip choked, his eyes wide with the prospect of such a sum for doing almost nothing. “I’ll have to think about—”
“Shut up and take the deal,” Reginald said.
Phillip nodded, his face flushed red. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll have them here, safe and sound, by tonight.”
“Good.” Reginald reached into his pocket and pulled out two sealed envelopes, then handed them over. “The thick one is half your money, including the bonus, plus money for the kids to spend. You’ll get the rest of your portion when they . . . disappear.”
“And this other one?” The hotel owner held up the thin envelope.
“I want you to deliver that to them at precisely six o’clock. If you can’t get them to the hotel before then, wait until morning to deliver it. I don’t care if it’s am or pm, just give it to them at six o’clock.”
Phillip’s eyes squinched up in confusion.
“Don’t ask any more questions,” Reginald said. “Just do as I say and enjoy the money.”
After giving Phillip a few more instructions, Reginald turned and walked away, enjoying himself and his clever ways even more than usual.
~
“All right,” Paul said as they passed a small group of kids playing a version of soccer with a square ball. “I’ve known for awhile that you guys stink, but now I can smell myself. I don’t care if it’s in one of those fancy fountains—I need to get clean.”
Tick lifted up his arm and smelled his armpit. “We do stink. Dude.”
“I don’t,” Sofia said. “But I’m starving.”
“I’m glad you think you smell so nice,” Paul said, stopping to study Sofia up and down. “What’s your secret?”
Sofia halted as well, folding her arms and returning the stare. “I don’t sweat.”
“You don’t sweat?” Paul looked over at Tick. “She doesn’t sweat, Tick. Now I’ve heard everything.” He continued walking toward the center of town, shaking his head.
Nothing much had changed since they’d left the border road and headed deeper into the city. The buildings had gotten a little bigger with fewer pillars and less frilly decoration; apartments and condos had replaced the extravagant neighborhood homes. The sun had sunk lower in the sky, the darkened glow of twilight fast approaching. None of the people they passed paid them much mind, despite their dirty clothes and haggard appearance. Everyone seemed extremely busy—all made up and pressed clean.
“Look up there,” Sofia said, pointing straight ahead.
Less than a quarter-mile ahead of them, twelve roads came together like spokes of a wheel, intersecting in a huge open-air mall where hundreds of people milled about. Tick realized something, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it before.
“Where are all the cars?” he asked.
Sofia and Paul stopped, as if stunned by the simple question.
Paul snapped his fingers. “I knew something was missing. We haven’t seen a single car.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Sofia said. “There’s nothing primitive about this place. If anything, it seems a little more advanced than our reality.”
“Ah, dude,” Paul said. “What if they beam around like in Star Trek?”
Sofia snorted. “I’ll be sure to ask Dark Gator if I see him.”
Paul burst out laughing; Tick held his laugh in, pressing his mouth closed.
“What?” Sofia said.
“What did you call him?” Paul asked.
“Dark Gator.”
“Man, oh, man, you are too good to be true, Miss Italy, too good to be true.” Still chuckling, he walked toward all the people. “I think I see a restaurant up there. Let’s check it out.”
Sofia looked at Tick, her eyebrows raised.
“It’s Darth Vader,” he whispered. “And he’s from Star Wars, not Star Trek.”
“Well, they both sound stupid,” she concluded, then followed Paul.
The mall was a collection of all sorts of shops and eateries, surround by a broad expanse of inlaid bricks. The three of them stopped to see which restaurant looked most appetizing—assuming, of course, they accepted Reality Prime money. Tick’s hopes were rising, because this place had some of the same fast-food chains as back home—their logos were just slightly different.
“Ooh, look—” Tick started to say, but a man stopped him by pulling on his elbow. Tick looked behind him to see a short, fidgety man with the worst comb-over Tick had ever seen.
“Excuse me,” the man said, his face breaking into a smile that would have looked more natural on a rattlesnake. “Is your name, er, Atticus Higginbottom?”
Tick didn’t know what he’d expected the man to say, but his mouth dropped open and his heart started thumping.