“Can I get you anything?” the concerned young woman asked. “No, thanks, I’ll be fine,” she replied, hoping the woman would leave, which thankfully she did. And once she was alone, Remi leaned against the stall wall and let the tears flow again. She knew she had to tell Liam that he was right. The police had the bag all along. Cradling her now bent knees, while sitting on the dirty, tiled lavatory floor, she had only two thoughts running through her head. One, how hard it was going to be to tell Liam about the bag. And the second was purely selfish; it was the thought of losing him. She took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to regroup. However, it took close to ten minutes for her to finally climb up off the floor. Then it took another five for her to make it to the sink. After scrubbing her hands, she grabbed a handful of paper towels, wetted them with cold water and proceeded to dab them all over her face and neck. Glancing into the mirror, all she could see was her eyes, still moist and crimson from the barrage of tears. An indication of how horrible she felt at that moment. She then popped a wintergreen mint into her mouth and pulled out her phone to call Liam, but stopped short of clicking his name. Thinking that maybe doing it over the phone wasn’t the smartest of choices, she decided to go see him instead.
To avoid Olivia spotting her tear-swollen eyes, Remi purposely kept her face skewed by the doorframe when she peeked her head into Olivia’s office. “I’m not feeling well, think it might be food poisoning,” she fibbed. “Is it okay if I go home?”
“Of course, go get some rest and feel better soon,” said Olivia. Remi thanked her then hurriedly got out of there. She had barely made it to the street when she began yelling for a taxi. Fortunately, one pulled right up. “Kitty Hawk Avenue at the Navy shipyard—I mean Braddock and Associates,” she snapped at the driver then apologized for her rudeness. She started to search the address on her phone, but the driver stated he knew the location. Remi slumped down into the backseat, and something unfamiliar happened, she dreaded seeing Liam.
After a long morning meeting, Simon was just about to leave Liam’s office when he said, “I’m glad you decided to take on the project.”
Liam just nodded, as he still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to do it. Possibly seeking some sort of normalcy, which was ironic considering a few months earlier that was something he loathed. For a brief moment, he forgot about everything and was elated by his decision, until a surprise visit occurred. “Mr. Matthews, a young lady, is here to see you,” Mary announced through the intercom. Liam stepped out of the office and saw Remi. He waved her in and immediately noticed her bloodshot eyes. As he closed the door behind them, he asked, “Have you been crying?”
She didn’t know how to handle the situation, and her blatant avoidance of direct eye contact tipped him off to why she was there. “Olivia doesn’t have the bag, does she?”
A rogue tear escaped from her eye and dripped onto the carpet while Liam collapsed onto the desk chair. “I’m so fucked!” he declared while covering his head with his hands. Unsure of what to do, she just watched him from across the room, giving him some space. “What did Olivia say exactly?” he asked.
“She said that the police never gave the bag back to her.”
Liam smirked with a condescending undertone. He was both pissed off and worried. Not a good combination, she thought.
“How could I have been so dense?”
Remi mentioned that the bag had never entered her mind either. However, there was no reaction whatsoever from Liam, so her attempt at solidarity failed miserably. Instead, he just sat there, displaying a blank expression, sending her anxiety level to its maximum peak. She shuffled over to one of the windows and stared out at the river. Seeing the enormous ships in the daylight, gave her a whole new perspective on his love for his craft and what he would have to renounce. Through no fault of his own, she thought, but then the realization of her actions that night at the warehouse came to the forefront. Sure Liam’s culpability was all him up until Tom’s death, but planting the diamonds on Tom had been her idea, and yes he went along with the plan, but he did it grudgingly. She glanced over at Liam, who was still sitting there, unnervingly quiet and vacant. Her eyes started to pool with thick tears, as she reluctantly posed the question, “What are you going to do?”
He stood up and replied, “I don’t know, but my DNA was all over that bag, so I either wait for the cops to force me to give a sample, or I give it willingly.”
All of a sudden Remi feared that Liam was considering doing something drastic. Especially when he looked away from her suspiciously, an ominous sense of trepidation instantly returned. “You’re thinking about running, aren’t you?” she questioned, trying hard not to freak out. Taken aback by her skills of perception, he nodded while admitting, “The idea had crossed my mind.”
Resting in the pit of her stomach was again that horrible sinking feeling of losing Liam. And when he stepped towards the other window and gazed out it, she knew running away was more than just an idea, it was a frightening possibility. For an uncomfortable couple of minutes, nothing was spoken then out of the blue, Liam said, “This affects you as well; you lied to Detective Weston and that Special Agent.”
A fact she couldn’t dispute but didn’t stop Liam from reminding her. “You concocted that story about Tom if the investigators tie me to the heist then they will automatically connect you as well.”
With his arm extended and his hand resting on the side of the window frame, he continued to stare out through the glass. She cautiously walked over and sidled up to him, but he didn’t react to her sudden presence. “Liam,” she whispered softly. “What?” he countered somewhat snippy, prompting Remi to vacate the conversation altogether. “Nothing,” she uttered, stepping back away from him. Without turning around to acknowledge her moving, he announced, “I’ve got a lot of work to do, so it’s probably best if you go.”
Feeling dejected, she did her best to hold it together. “Promise me,” she said, her voice quivering. “You won’t just take off.”
He dropped his head then turned it slightly to the side. “I promise.”
Remi resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him. He was so distant emotionally, and by making it crystal clear that he didn’t want her there, she opted just to leave him alone. Before exiting, she reached into her purse and removed a medium sized ivory colored envelope. “Here’s the invitation for the wedding,” she said, placing it on the desk. She then added, “I’ll understand if you can’t go now.”
Still looking out the window, he just nodded. And with that, she left.
Carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had taken its toll, and Liam cursed the heist for being nothing but a disaster. He should have known his time would run out eventually. He wished Remi had just told the truth after Tom’s death. He could have faced the consequences instead of leading a false life. Traveling the country, without a care. Then coming back into Remi’s life, spending time with her, was all kinds of messed up. No matter how he tried to swing it. It was wrong. He spotted the invitation on the desk, and realized by agreeing to be her date; he was merely feeding into the bogus alternative universe that he and Remi were currently residing. At that moment, he had absolutely no clue where to go from there or what he was going to do.
Later in the day, Melanie arrived home from work to find Remi lying on the couch, curled up in a fetal position, looking downtrodden, and destitute. “Hey girl, what’s up?” she asked. Remi replied, “Oh nothing, just that Liam is probably going to prison any day now or he’s going to run away far from here.”
She sat down on the edge of the couch and asked what happened.
“You know how we planted the diamonds on Tom after the shooting?”
Melanie nodded.
“Well, Liam’s DNA is all over the stupid bag the gems were in,” she said. “And the police have that bag.”
“Oh shit!” exclaimed Melanie.
“Exactly.”
“Do they have Liam’s DNA?”
Remi sh
ook her head no. “Not yet, but they want it and are probably obtaining a court order to get it as we speak.”
“What is Liam going to do?” she asked.
“I wish I knew,” she said, getting up and making a beeline for the liquor cabinet. Melanie didn’t think that was a wise solution. “Hey Rem, do you think you should be drinking right now?”
“I just need a shot,” she said.
“Okay, but don’t overdo it,” suggested Melanie.
Remi poured herself a small glass of Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey and drank it in one quick gulp. “Whew, that’s good,” she said, blowing her lips. Watching this unfold, concerned Melanie, but she had a work-related dinner to attend and couldn’t stay. While she hurried to change her outfit, Remi told her not to worry that she’d drink sensibly. Of course, she said that while grabbing the bottle of Fireball, the glass, and retreating to the couch, where she drank a total of three shots in quick succession. Rapidly surging through her petite body, intoxication would soon kick in. Between being emotionally spent and downright depressed, the alcohol just enhanced her gloomy mood. Unaware of how much Remi had already imbibed Melanie gave her a hug and warned, “Only do a couple of shots.”
Remi saluted. “Will do!”
As soon as Melanie left, Remi did another shot then for some inexplicable reason; she got a sense that Liam was gone. Of course, the alcohol had completely clouded her judgment, so any rational thoughts were non-existent. Right there and then, she decided to go next door. She put her slippers on, albeit on the wrong feet and stumbled down the hall.
In an attempt, to keep his mind off the investigation, Liam had been working on a design when Remi showed up. When he opened the door, she slumped into the frame and slurred, “Good, you’re still here.”
He knew instantaneously that she was inebriated. “Been drinking, I see,” he commented, taking notice of her feet. “Hah, nothing gets by you,” she said, pushing past him to get inside then tripping on the carpet. He just sighed. She then staggered into the living room, down the hallway, into his bedroom, and back to the living room. Dumbfounded by her actions, he questioned, “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for,” she said then hesitated. “Umm…packed bags.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
She made a gesture with her index finger and thumb, signaling a small amount. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, not believing her. She started laughing. “Well, maybe a tad more than that.”
He moved towards her and placed his arm around her waist. “Come on, have a seat on the couch.”
Before she sat, she looked down. “Why do my feet feel weird?”
“Because your slippers are on wrong.”
“Oh,” she said then giggled. “You’re just too smart.”
He helped her sit, where she instantly tipped over to the side. With her head resting on the arm of the couch, Liam removed the slippers then swung her legs up, so she was now lying down. She sighed and remarked, “You’re always so protective, strong and manly.”
He was trying not to smile but couldn’t deny; a drunken Remi was kind of delightful and possibly dangerous. Because as he laid the crocheted blanket over her, she asked, “Do you still like me?”
He tucked the blanket in around her body but didn’t acknowledge the question. “Liam,” she crooned. “Did you hear me?”
As he perched on the edge of the coffee table, he replied, “Yes; I still like you.”
She scrunched up her nose and smiled. “Now, get some sleep,” he suggested, standing up. “Wait,” she called out, reaching her hand out to stop him. “Sit back down,” she then demanded. He obliged but only to appease her, in hopes she would soon conk out. “I want you to know something,” she said. All Liam could do was think about that night she was drunk at the bar, disclosing the insane fact that she still had the black ski mask. “Come here,” she insisted, gripping his t-shirt, forcing him to lean into her. For a brief second, Liam resisted the pull, but Remi sat up a little to meet him halfway. While still firmly holding onto his shirt, she looked him in the eye, and with a boozy cinnamon-laced breath, she whispered, “When you were gone.”
She then paused, making Liam reluctantly urge her to continue. “I was gone and what?”
“I missed you.”
Liam sighed. “Okay, get some sleep.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, moving her face closer to his. “I really missed you.”
The emphasis on the word really, convinced Liam that this wasn’t the alcohol talking, this was personal and as curious as he was; he also respected her too much to allow her to disclose her secrets unwittingly. “Thanks for telling me, but no more talk, just sleep,” he said, attempting to get up, but she again stopped him. “One more thing, you need to know,” she said. Liam thought to himself, God help me, on what she might say next. Remi lifted her hand and placed her thumb on the bottom of his chin. Before he could he even ask what she was doing, Remi skirted her thumb across his cheek and back to the chin, where she tapped it a couple of times. “I like the scruff,” she whispered, as he could no longer refrain from grinning. It had been a long, miserable day, but for a few minutes, Remi managed to make him smile again. He gently pushed her down and tucked the blanket around her, again. “Hmm, I love your couch,” she murmured then promptly passed out. Liam kneeled down, and after making sure she was asleep, he gently placed his hand on her head and whispered, “I missed you, too.”
He then returned to the blueprint, and tried to regain his focus. As he wrote down measurements, every once in a while, he glanced over at the couch. Though not happy that she had gotten hammered, he was thankful that she came to his place instead of going out somewhere. The last thing he needed or wanted was for her to get into trouble. He also knew the harsh way he had treated her this afternoon, was more than likely the catalyst that set her self-destruction into motion. Just another reason he shouldn’t be in her life. Add it to the ever-growing list, he thought. Somehow for the next few hours, Liam managed to keep his concentration on work and not on the investigation, nor a drunken Remi. It wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but his determination was ubiquitous, as always. The only thing that prevented him from working throughout the entire night was sheer exhaustion, because by midnight, he had dozed off right there at the table.
Early next morning, Remi awoke and immediately recognized the blanket and couch. With a pounding hangover headache unmercifully reminding her of the numerous shots of Fireball she downed the night before, she thought, good lord another drunken incident in front of Liam. She sighed as mortification washed over her. She slowly sat up, and that’s when she spotted Liam hunched over the table, sleeping. She wondered if she had said or did anything inappropriate. “This is like déjà vu,” she whispered, remembering the night back in December, except she couldn’t imagine there had been anything incriminating to divulge. It took her a few minutes to stand up without feeling woozy or without the desire to puke, but when she succeeded, she quietly approached Liam. As she got closer, she could hear him breathing softly and relished the opportunity just to observe him, in such a peaceful state. The last time she saw him sleep was the night he showed up at her apartment, bloodied and beaten. She noticed the blueprint and for the ability to still create with so much looming over his head was a testament to his mental strength. Then, of course, her showing up unannounced and intoxicated didn’t help matters. But in true Liam form, he didn’t turn her away. Instead, he took care of her. She smiled because he never failed to come to her rescue.
Knowing that he needed to get up for work, she decided to wake him by touching his shoulder. Liam immediately opened his eyes and in a split second grabbed her hand, tight. Another dose of déjà vu, she thought, like that moment while they were inside the vault when she attempted to remove his mask. “What?” he snapped, obviously still half asleep. “It’s me, Remi,” she said, wincing as he was squeezing so hard, she feared he would cut off the circulation. He apologized as he released her
hand then began dropping his neck from side to side, stretching it. “Sorry I came here last night,” she said, shaking her hand, encouraging blood flow. “It’s okay,” he assured. Noticing her slippers on the floor, she pushed her feet into them then thanked him for not kicking her out. He half-heartedly laughed while asking, “Why did you get drunk?”
“I don’t know, guess it just sneaked up on me.”
Not wanting to rehash the whole red bag fiasco or have an argument, he opted to nix the conversation. “Well, I’m glad you came here instead of going out.”
That got a smile from her, but that quickly faded when she asked, “Uh, I didn’t say anything this time, did I?”
“You mean like, about black ski masks?” he playfully countered.
She rolled her eyes at him.
“No, you didn’t say anything incriminating,” he fibbed, a little. “Oh good,” she said, relieved but then asked, “I didn’t do anything either, right?”
Teasingly, Liam asked, “Like what?”
“You know, like last time when I hung all over you,” she reminded. “I didn’t do that, did I?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
“Phew,” she uttered, sounding even more relieved. Liam offered to make her coffee, but she declined, citing she had to get ready for work. “I’d give you a ride, but I’m going in a little late,” he said. She understood then thanked him before quickly exiting. The moment she got inside her place, she hurried to the kitchen to get coffee and a couple of Ibuprofen. Even hung over, she still managed to look somewhat presentable. Soon she was off to work, sitting on the train with an extra large coffee and a glazed doughnut. The coffee at home hadn’t done the trick, so at a convenience store on the way to the station, she purchased another one, with two extra shots of caffeine added to it. She needed all the assistance she could muster. Of course, if only she could wipe Liam from her psyche, she’d be even better. Leaning her still aching head against the cold metal frame of the train, she sunk in the hard seat and sighed. With the possibility of him running still fresh in her mind, she wished there was a way to help him, but the big question was, would he even let her?
UNMASKED: Sequel to Behind the Mask Page 17