I saw her take in my face and then exhale that all out––most of it anyway.
“Let’s go,” she said then, catching hold of my arm before I could put down my purse and steering me back towards the door.
Remembering the spa day she’d mentioned, I let out a sigh.
“Can’t we just hang out here?” I said. “I’m wiped, Angel… and there’s a lot I should talk to you about.”
I glanced at Cowboy, who watched me with an equally worried look on his face from the sectional sofa that took up a good chunk of the living room.
“…And Cowboy,” I added, still watching him look at me. “I should talk to both of you.”
“After,” Angel insisted. “Or during. If anyone needs a massage right now, Miriam, it’s you.”
“She’s not wrong,” Cowboy volunteered from the sofa.
“You talked to Nick?” I said, frowning.
“And Charles, and Manny, who called here after he talked to you… and Dex and Kiko,” Cowboy volunteered. “I imagine we’re mostly caught up.”
Remembering the weird thing about the clothes and the labs, I frowned, considering telling him he hadn’t caught up, then changed my mind.
“Okay,” I said, admitting defeat.
Angel still had a hold of my arm when I said it, and was by now shoving her feet into flip flops sitting on a low shoe rack by the door.
“Should I change?” I said, doubtful. “I should probably go get my flip-flops, too––” I turned in the direction of my bedroom, but Angel yanked on me harder, shaking her head.
“We’ll buy you some.”
I laughed. “Because I didn’t buy enough sandals in Hawaii.”
“You’re married to a damned billionaire, Miriam. You can afford an extra pair of flip-flops.” Snorting, she added, “Hell, they’ll probably throw whatever you want at you for free, the instant they know who you are.”
For some reason her words stumped me.
I still wasn’t in the habit of thinking of myself that way, or thinking about me and Black’s relationship that way. Usually when I experienced the wealth perks of being married to Black, he was with me. They always felt like his wealth perks, and I was just along for the ride.
“I bet you didn’t spend a damned thing in Hawaii, did you?” Angel grunted, as if hearing my thoughts. “You probably hung out in the huge house of his, and told the cooks not to bother cooking for you, that you could fend for yourself. You probably didn’t take so much as a boat ride, or a helicopter ride, or an anything ride, the whole time you were there. You probably didn’t go shopping once. Or even get a massage.”
“I used the cooks,” I muttered. “Not every night, but when Uncle Charles was there––”
Angel laughed, taking me out into the red-tiled hallway and closing the door behind us without letting go of my arm.
“Was that his idea?” she snorted. “Or yours?”
I thought about that, trying to answer honestly.
Uncle Charles was like Black in some ways. They both had expensive tastes. I had a recollection of Charles wanting fresh sashimi his first night there. After that, he kind of handled meals for us. Frowning as I remembered, I shrugged.
“It’s weird, Angel,” I admitted. “And it doesn’t feel like mine. Especially when Black isn’t there. I don’t like taking things that aren’t mine.”
She nodded, her shoes flapping on her feet as she padded down the veined, dark-red tile.
“I get that. But you should probably wrap your head around it. Unless you’re planning on making your great escape for real.”
There was a delay between when her words reached my ears and when I understood them.
Then a hard slam of pain hit my light.
That time it was insistent, so strong I closed my eyes, nearly losing my balance as I walked down the adobe-walled hall.
Angel gripped my arm tighter. “Hey.” Her voice grew more gentle. “Sorry, doc. That wasn’t a great joke.” Pausing, she watched my face. “Did you talk to him in the end? After they left Ship Rock?”
I shook my head, closing my eyes but keeping my balance that time.
“No,” I said. “I talked to Manny.”
Exhaling, Angel nodded.
“I talked to him before,” I said, a touch defensively. “The other way, I mean. Not on the phone. The Black way.”
She looked at me and nodded.
I still felt that more grim emotion on her light.
“Is that enough, Miri?” she said a few seconds later. “To talk to him like that, I mean. Without actually seeing him… without talking to him face to face?”
Thinking about her words as I continued to walk, I felt that pain in my chest worsen.
I remembered what I’d realized in New York after I found out what he’d been doing with Ravi and Brick, not to mention that vampire bitch I’d had by the throat at that billionaire’s penthouse party in New York. I remembered feeling like he’d crushed my heart, like he’d reached down into my chest and fucking crushed it, only to stand there in front of me and expect me to understand, to forgive him for it––moreover, to agree with why he did it.
I remembered how confused he’d been that I couldn’t.
He’d been so bewildered that I just… couldn’t.
I remembered how trapped I’d felt, how completely trapped and wrapped up in his world and his life. I remembered how it felt like I’d never get away, that no matter what he did to me, how often he lied or screwed with my head.
I remembered feeling I was stuck with him because of the bond.
I remembered thinking the seer thing meant I was trapped with him in some form forever, even if I ended up hating him for it.
Remembering how I’d felt pacing in that conference room in the police station, I fought back an even stronger wave of pain in my chest.
I remembered him screaming in the space, screaming for me––
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No. It’s not enough.”
I looked at her then, and voiced the thing I’d never told anyone, not even her.
“He cheated on me, Angel,” I said. “He cheated on me. He was sleeping with those vampires. The whole time we were in New York.”
She stared at me.
Coming to a dead stop on the tile floor, she just stared at me.
I felt her trying to come up with words, with something to say.
I shook my head, holding up a hand.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She blinked.
“It doesn’t matter? What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Bullshit, Miri!” The words burst out of her, louder with each one, her emotions swirling around her and me before they finally settled on anger, then fury. “Bullshit, it doesn’t matter! That piece of shit bastard––”
I caught hold of her arm.
“I’m not ready for that,” I told her, shaking my head. “I’m not ready to do that, to complain about him… to pretend it’s just him being a bastard, or a cheater, or a liar. All I could do the last time I was with him is break things. I can’t normalize this yet. I can’t pretend I know how I feel about it, or about him. I can’t.”
I saw recognition in her eyes, right before she nodded.
“I understand.” Her jaw hardened as she continued to study my face. “I knew he lied about the infiltration. I knew he lied to you about what he was doing… and that he erased your memory of that thing with Brick. I knew he let vampires feed on him.”
Shaking her head, she bit her lip.
Looking up, she caught hold of my arm, so that we each held the other.
“I’m sorry, Miri,” she said. “I’m sorry I was pressuring you to talk to him.”
I squeezed her arm back, managing a smile.
“It’s okay. Really, Ang. I promise you, it’s okay.” I shook my head. “There’s no way you would have known. I knew Black wouldn’t tell you.”
Thinking about that, I clenched my jaw briefly.
“…To be hones
t, I’m not even sure he sees it as cheating,” I said. “He seems to think it was just part of military maneuvers against Brick. Like I should just get that, and suck it up. That I should understand why he did it and let it go.”
At her silence, I shrugged, adding,
“I didn’t tell anyone before because I couldn’t handle talking about it,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I can handle talking about it now. But I wanted you to know. We don’t have to talk about it, and I still want to go to the spa… but I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know why I was acting this way. Why I don’t know what to do about Black.”
She nodded.
After another pause, she wrapped an arm around my waist.
She guided me forward and we began to walk again.
We walked in silence for a few minutes, reaching the end of the hall and the south side of the lobby. Once we’d entered the enormous space with its Mexican-style ceramic chandeliers, hand-painted Mexican tile, old-growth wooden furniture and massive roaring fireplace made up of river stones, Angel steered us to the right.
She aimed our feet towards the entrance to the spa attached to the resort.
Walking with her through the glass doors, I found myself in a silent oasis that instantly calmed down something in my chest. I looked around the white and sky blue room, taking in the high ceilings, exposed wood beams, a small, white adobe fireplace in the corner, and pale blue desert flowers floating in a giant glass bowl on a carved wood table.
The air smelled faintly of rose petals, lavender and pine, and a fire crackled in the adobe fireplace by a white leather couch and a low tile table spread with wellness magazines.
The woman at the reception desk smiled at us.
Then her eyes lit on me and widened.
“Mrs. Black!” She rose hastily to her feet, her voice holding both surprise and a faint tinge of panic. “How wonderful you’ve chosen to pay us a visit!” Looking around her, maybe for help, maybe for witnesses, she motioned at us then, smiling wider. “Did you want to take advantage of our services? Or can I help you with something else?”
I glanced at Angel, who looked back at me.
Inexplicably, we both snorted a laugh.
When the woman looked confused, and faintly alarmed, I waved off my own humor, trying to give her a reassuring smile.
“We’re here to try out the spa, if that’s okay,” I said. “We have an appointment––”
I’m not sure if she heard the last part. She immediately broke into another smile at the first thing I said, motioning us towards her.
“Of course it’s okay!” she said. “Please follow me… we’ll get you set up right away!”
We followed her to the back room, still giggling, although I couldn’t have said why, and I have no idea if Angel could have, either.
The receptionist took us to an enormous area in the back with heated tile floors, a private dressing area, enormous showers, two deep porcelain bathtubs, several massage beds and tables, and a reclining chair I imagined must be for facials and other treatments. I also saw a wooden door that I suspected led to a sauna, given the control panel on the wall outside.
I glanced to my left, where one whole end of the room housed two massive glass doors that opened out onto a private patio. Out there I saw a fire pit, a jacuzzi and small wading pool with a waterfall, a wet bar and several lounge tables with dark blue sun umbrellas.
“We made an appointment––” I began again.
That time, she seemed to hear me.
“Oh!” She smiled at me, then glanced at Angel, as if realizing she needed to remember her face too, in case she came to the reception area again. “Well, there’s no need for any of that, of course, for you or your friend, Mrs. Black. You’re welcome to come in at any time. I’ll have our head masseuse, June, take care of you today, if you have no objection. Just let her know what services you’d like to try and she’ll arrange everything.
“Or,” she added. “Just tell her how much time you have and what your goals are for today’s treatments and we’ll design a package for you.”
I glanced at Angel, doing a bad job of hiding my incredulity.
“Okay,” I said. “I think we just want to relax… and talk. Right? So nothing too elaborate?” I was still looking at Angel. “What do you think?”
“I want to try the hot rock massage,” she pronounced. “And a mud bath.”
I glanced at the receptionist, quirking an eyebrow.
“Just cover my friend in dirt and rocks.”
Angel burst out in a laugh. “We’re in the desert! Dirt and rocks as far as the eye can see. I’m doing the Rome thing, doc. I’m going earthy.”
I saw the woman watching the two of us shrewdly and smiled at her.
“So… earthy stuff?” I said. “For both of us, I guess.”
“How much time do you have?” the woman asked.
I looked at Angel again, shrugging. “Two hours?”
“Three,” Angel corrected, her voice firm. “That’s dinner at six.” Lifting an eyebrow then, she looked me over. “Although, come to think of it. Did you eat lunch?”
I frowned, realizing I’d forgotten about food again.
Angel sighed in open exasperation.
“Oh for crying out loud, never mind… I can see the answer all over your face. Bring her food,” Angel said, looking at the receptionist. “Something she can eat with her hands. And water,” she added. “I’m sure she’s had, like, a teaspoon of that today, too.”
I opened my mouth to protest but Angel held up a palm to silence me, still focused solely on the receptionist.
“…Just bring something healthy that’s going to settle her stomach, okay? Nothing too spicy or weird. Hummus, pita bread, Thai salad rolls, cheese and crackers, chips and guacamole, small sandwiches… something simple and uncomplicated like that. No fish. No oysters. No alcohol or coffee, at least not yet––”
“I understand.” The woman smiled, exuding competence. “That’s absolutely no problem at all. We’ll start you both off with a foot massage and pedicure so you can eat and relax. I’ll have a selection waiting for you when you come out of the changing room.”
I exhaled in relief, looking in gratitude between the two of them.
“Thank you,” I said. “That would be amazing.”
“Of course, Mrs. Black.” Her smile grew warmer, more genuine. “Please feel free to ask anyone here for anything you need or desire. My name is Crystal. You can ask for me by name, or for anyone else who works here. Please don’t ever hesitate to call us, either, if that’s easier…”
She gestured politely towards a white wall phone I hadn’t seen, attached by the door.
“…There’s a list of numbers on the wall, including for reception here in the spa, the front desk, concierge, the kitchen, housekeeping, our business center, and all three bars.”
I watched her, a little dumbfounded, as she smiled a last time, then turned to go, disappearing out the thick wooden door of our private room.
Once the door shut silently behind her, Angel and I looked at one another.
Again, we both burst out inexplicably with laughter.
ANOTHER DAMNED DOOR
BLACK LEANED BACK in the metal chair, closing his eyes as he faced up towards the ceiling.
He was full.
Manny cooked simpler food that night, but it was as good if not better than the food they’d eaten the previous two nights––maybe better, since Black needed it more. Navajo flatbread. Corn, tomato, bean and lime salsa on venison. Fried potatoes. Bean and squash salad.
He’d even pulled flan out of the refrigerator for dessert.
Manny fed him like Black hadn’t eaten in a week, probably out of fear of what happened that day happening again. His friend might have been trying to ground him instinctively, or maybe he talked to someone who told him to keep Black’s belly full and keep him away from alcohol. Whatever Manny did or didn’t know overtly, he hadn’t offered him a drink, either.
Black shook his head in agreement. “Not coffee, either,” he said.
“What about spicy hot chocolate?” he said.
Black thought about that, then shrugged. “If you’re making it, I wouldn’t say no.”
Manny chuckled, returning to his feet.
When he reached over to take Black’s plate, Black scowled, sitting up to stop him, but Manny pointed at him sternly, his voice firm.
“Just sit,” he instructed. “Pretend you’re my guest.”
Black hesitated, then gave in, slumping back in the chair.
Truthfully, he was exhausted.
Moreover, the pain was worse again––maybe worse than it had been.
Wincing slightly, he watched Manny putter in the kitchen by the gas stove, pulling out a saucepan to make the chocolate.
“So you going to tell me? What happened today?” Manny glanced over, pouring milk into the pan as he ignited the largest of the four gas burners. “You scared the hell out of me and Red,” he added, his voice slightly harder. “We had a hell of a time getting you back in that Jeep, too. Red thought you were dead. He said people don’t go still like that, not just from fainting or being knocked unconscious.”
Pausing at Black’s silence, he added, setting the pan on the flames,
“You scared the hell out of your wife.”
Black winced, looking away, through the now-dark kitchen window.
“She called you?”
Manny grunted.
“Called me?” he said, his voice holding disbelief. “She called five or six times before we even managed to get you on the Jeep. She left messages each time, practically threatening me if I or someone else didn’t call her back. She called Red. She called Henry, who was leading the search party up in those hills. She called the Navajo Nation police department, the B.I.A. offices the local F.B.I. offices, and my daughter back at the local police station. God only knows who else she called, Black. I’m surprised the Albuquerque SWAT team didn’t surround us before we made it back here.”
Black To Dust: A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery (Quentin Black Mystery Book 7) Page 18