Andrew Mackay - Pink Symphony

“Not as upset as Remy’s going to be, look,” Jamie pointed at Dreenagh, “She knows they don’t know. She’s going to tell him.”

“Oh, Jesus…” Emily lowered her behind to the couch, entranced by the drama that would surely follow, “That woman is a piece of work. Tony, come and see this.”

“History in the making, is it?” Tony appeared at the door to the front room with a cup of coffee. He leaned against the frame and shook his head. “They have no idea?”

“No, Dad,” Jamie turned to the broadcast with great intensity, “Everyone knows but them.”

Dreenagh cleared her throat and dampened her voice. Remy eyes shot back at her, wistfully.

“Remy, what was your reaction to the breaking news a couple of hours ago?”

“What news?” Vera asked. “What are you speaking about?”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“No,” Remy said with innocence, “Is something wrong?”

Dreenagh closed her eyes. On the surface she felt terrible. In her heart, she knew she had the exclusive story of a lifetime. She’d be the first to break it. Enough for her to continue with her USARIC-like grab for power and glory.

“Someone broke into USARIC and found Bisoubisou’s body.”

“What?” Remy snapped. “You liar. Is it a joke?”

“No, Remy. He sent out a message saying that Bisoubisou was dead and still at USARIC.”

“This is quite terriful,” Vera snapped. “Bisoubisou is at Saturn helping the Americans find out what the message means.”

“I’m afraid not,” Dreenagh held out her finger and drew a large rectangle in from their face. Handax’s face appeared and the broadcast began to play.”

Emily turned to Tony, full of emotion. “I can’t watch this.”

“No, Mom. We need to watch it,” Jamie pushed himself onto his feet. Now seven-years-old, he’d grown since he’d last seen Jelly. “It’s always better to tell the truth,” he turned to his stepfather for confirmation, “Isn’t it, Dad?”

“I’m not so sure on this occasion, Jamie,” Tony fixed his gaze on Remy’s beleaguered face. “Sometimes we have to tell lies. Sometimes it’s necessary.”

“The scumbags never told them,” Emily left the room in a flood of tears. “All this time we thought they knew.”

“Sweetie,” Tony walked after her and tried to talk her down from her upset. “It’s not your fault—”

“—Yes, it is. I took USARIC at their word like a complete fool.”

Jamie shut out his mother’s grief and concentrated on the interview.

Remy burst out crying and fell into his Vera’s arms. She was equally as shocked at the news as her son. His mother’s holographic representation pushed through Jolene’s face. She, too, began to cry at the visual of Remy doing the same thing.

“Jolene, stop it!” Jamie pointed at Dreenagh, “I’m trying to watch.”

Vera hugged her grief-ridden son and screamed at Dreenagh. “My God. Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No, Vera. I’m afraid not.”

“It is a lie,” she unhanded Remy and stood up from the couch, “You media, you are all the same. Nothing but sensation and lies.”

“Well, I’m sorry but—”

“—Get out of my house, you scheming cow.”

Dreenagh’s transparent image stood up and held out her hands. “I’m not in your house, technically.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she barked back and pointed at Remy sobbing against a cushion, “You invade my home. You come here, spreading lies with actors with stupid colored hair.”

“I can assure you I am not lying, Vera. Look,” Dreenagh displayed her forearm. The ink swirled around to form a number: 1.4M.

“See that?” Dreenagh asked.

“Yes?”

“That’s how many viewers across the world are watching right now. Don’t you think just one of them might have something to say if they knew it to be false?”

The woman had a point. Remy was way, way ahead of his mother in the grieving process. Granted, that was down to adolescent naivety on his part but, nevertheless, an accurate and fair distance ahead of his mother’s reasoning.

“Bisoubisou died right there at the Star Cat Trial finals, Vera,” Dreenagh said as she watched the dizzied Russian woman slump to the couch. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.”

“They killed her!” Remy hyperventilated through his sobs, “They killed my cat—”

“—Vera, you think the assassination of Viktor Rabinovich and the subsequent expulsion of twenty-three Russian diplomats was a coincidence?” Dreenagh tried to bring the woman to her senses. “Do you see how this ties together?

Vera stared at the floor in bewilderment. “How could I have been so blind?”

“You may hate me, Vera, and that’s fine. But I’m a journalist,” Dreenagh smiled at her drone and gave it a sly wink, “My job is to report the truth. You saw it here first, viewers.”

Jamie couldn’t decide which of the three images were more compelling.

Remy, with the look of fear and devastation on his face.

Vera, in the midst of coming around to the idea that her life and career was over.

Or Dreenagh Remix, and her desire for fame and fortune at the expense of tearing a family apart with the truth.

It was at this moment that Jamie Anderson realized two things:

1: The world didn’t work the way he thought it did. The same could be said for the universe at large but there was no time to expatiate on it. The world suddenly showed its playing cards as the ruthless, vindictive and painful place it had always been. The same place his mother and, until a few years ago, his biological father had tried to shield from his innocent eyes.

2: Bisoubisou’s death and subsequent absence was known to him and his mother. Jelly went in her place after accidentally murdering her. Actually, murder , he thought, was a complete misnomer. She was merely defending herself and fought for honor. At the time Jelly was signed up, he and his mother signed a contract non-disclosure agreement. Judging by the Gagarin family interview, it seemed they had avoided a major hassle. Jamie and his mother received the prize money. When he turned eighteen he’d be in receipt of the bulk of it.

A thought occurred to him as he sat in the carpet.

If everyone now knew that Bisoubisou didn’t join Opera Beta – who did ?

He assumed that anyone wanting answers – which was everyone and their grandmother – would come knocking at the Anderson household looking for answers.

One such feisty journalist named Dreenagh Remix could be the first of them.

“Mom, Mom,” Jamie climbed to his feet and ran out of the front room. He used the sound of his mother’s sobbing as route to find where she was. “ Mom !”

Tony stepped into Jamie’s path, preventing him from reaching the bedroom. “Hey, son. She’s a bit upset. Give her a few minutes, okay?”

“No, Tony. This is really—”

“—Don’t call me Tony. I’m your father.”

“You’re not my real dad,” he barged past and nearly made the door, only to be caught by the back of the shirt. Tony crouched down and glanced at his vindictive little stepchild in the eyes.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“—I’d appreciate it if you referred to me as Dad ,” Tony finished, noticing Jamie was desperate to get to his mother. “What’s wrong?”

Jamie raised his eyebrows with great sincerity. “If everyone knows Remy’s cat didn’t go to Saturn they might think Jelly went, instead. Everyone still thinks she’s the runner-up”

The boy had a hell of a point. The knock-on consequences of this revelation smacked Tony in the face. “You’re right.”