by Cecilia Tan
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“When have you ever known Mom to be cheerful? That worries me.”
“Jill, of course she’s being cheerful. All she’s ever wanted is for everyone to treat her like a queen. In the hospital they do.”
“Hmm, true.” She looked around. Most of the seats at the Formica-topped counter were empty. “Karina, I’m going to have to go back soon.”
“How soon? Can’t the bar deal without you?”
“From what I can tell, all hell is breaking loose without me there.”
“They’ll survive.”
“That’s what I have to tell you. ‘They’ is ‘we’ now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I bought into part-ownership. The chef’s been wanting his own place for a while. He got a rich friend to pony up some cash, and me and the head bartender each bought in for a quarter. So the old owner is gone and I’m the full-time house manager now. We’re in the middle of the changeover.” Her eyes were very round and exposed under her super-short haircut.
“Jill! That’s great! How did I miss this?”
“Um, you were in England all summer?”
Right. “That’s fantastic, though.”
“It is if we can make it fly. I mean, the money could be a lot better, but that’s if the place is successful enough to keep up with our salaries.”
“That place was always packed.”
“No, it wasn’t. You mostly worked the weekend nights.” She paused while the waiter, a kid who couldn’t be more than eighteen, put the food down in front of us. “But we’ll make it work. We’re upscaling. Chef’s snazzing up the menu. Small plates are all the rage, and a new cocktail menu’s coming, too, but all the changes mean retraining the waitstaff. We’re trying to take it up a notch and get on the hip foodie map. A gastro-pub.”
“And you need to be there to train the staff.”
“Yeah. This is killing me. My partners are depending on me. But, you know, this is Mom we’re talking about.”
“I know.” We ate for a bit while I mulled over my options. “I still haven’t checked in with the university to see what I have to do next. I might not need to be there at all if they haven’t reinstated me…”
“I thought you were going to fight for reinstatement?”
“Well, I am, but maybe I could shoot for January.” I shrugged. My case might look weak if I stayed away too long, but… “This is Mom we’re talking about.” I repeated her words.
She ran her fingers over her hair. “And I really don’t like the idea of you home alone if Phil comes creeping around again.”
“Me either. Even with the locks changed. I mean, if he isn’t a criminal, he—” I was interrupted by a text. Stefan had sent a photograph.
On the screen was a mug shot of Phil Betancourt. He had a black eye and disheveled hair, but it was unmistakably him. The sign he was holding showed he’d been arrested in St. Paul, Minnesota. I showed it to Jill. “So much for the idea he might not be a criminal.”
“Who’s that from?”
“A friend,” I said, which was true.
“A friend?” Jill said, suspicious.
Another text came: If this is your man, he appears to operate under the alias Ernest Klugman. Or perhaps Betancourt is the alias. This arrest was for robbery, aggravated assault, and sexual misconduct. The injuries were sustained in a scuffle with police. Still researching, but I would advise you not to get mixed up with this fellow. I showed it to her, too.
“A friend,” she pressed.
“He’s… a security professional,” I said.
“That sounds a whole lot like a euphemism.”
“Okay, he’s a bodyguard and a limo driver.”
“How did you meet him?” Her hackles were up.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jill. He works for a guy I met while waitressing for you!”
“Keep your voice down!” Jill yell-whispered at me. “What guy? What guy!”
I yell-whispered back. “The guy I went all the way to England to track down!”
She rolled her eyes and then forced herself to take a deep breath. “Okay. Could he come here to be with you while I go back to New York?”
“You’re assuming I would want him here.”
“Karina. Whoever he is, he’s obviously someone you trusted enough to tell about Mom’s abuser.”
“Um, yeah.” This was the problem with all the secrets, all the hiding. It made my relationship with James—and with Stefan—impossible to explain.
Jill sighed. “If you’ve got some kind of drama with him, fine, but a ‘security expert’ might be just what we need if Betancourt is as sketchy as this makes him out to be.”
I wondered if James was serious about doing anything I said to try to get back in my good graces. If I wanted him to keep watch from a distance, would he? For that matter, would he send Stefan alone if I asked? Was there some other way James could solve this problem? “I’ll… ask if it’s possible,” I said, hating that I wasn’t ready to explain everything to Jill yet.
Gee, like James wasn’t ready to explain everything to me? Look how waiting too long had hurt us.
Jill was clearly waiting for me to say more. I resolved I wouldn’t let keeping secrets be what drove us apart. I forced myself to look her right in the eye. “I need to tell you something.”
She looked at me right back. “Is this going to be one of those family secrets kind of moments?”
“I hope not. Listen. I was seeing this guy in the city for a while. Then we had a kind of… falling out, and I went to London to try to get him back. Only we had another big blowup, and now I’m not sure I want him back after all.”
“Oh, KayKay, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He… He wants a chance to make it up to me. I don’t know whether to hope it works out or to hope he blows it terribly so I can move on. I’m still really… attracted to him. But I don’t want to let him into my life until I’m sure I’m taking him back. Do you know what I mean?”
“You mean you don’t want another Brad situation. Where Mom liked him better than you did.”
“Exactly. This guy is nothing like Brad, though.”
“An art-world type?”
“A rich art-world type and that doesn’t even begin to describe him,” I said. “Can we not talk about him right now? If I make up with him, I want you to like him. But right now all I want to do is rant about him.”
“I understand,” she said. “Love’s complicated, KayKay. But we better figure something out and soon, because I need to get back to the city.”
A funny thing happened after we left the luncheonette. The young waiter who had served us came running out behind us as we were unlocking the car. “Ma’am? Miss?” He seemed unsure how to address Jill. “I think you made a mistake. You left way too big a tip.”
He had a twenty in his hand and some loose change.
Jill cuffed him on the shoulder with her hand. “That’s for you. For good service.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I waited tables a long time. I know. Someday when you’re making more money, remember what it was like and you’ll tip big, too.”
His smile showed a crooked tooth and his sandy bangs fell into his eyes. “Aw, thanks!”
She took her wallet out of her back pocket and for a second I thought she was going to give him more. Instead, she handed him a business card. “When you get out of school, if you want a job waiting tables in New York, call me.”
“Awesome! Thank you! I better get back now, though!” He ran toward the luncheonette.
Once we were in the car, I asked, “I wasn’t paying attention. Was he that good?”
“Come on, Karina. You know the drill as well as I do. He brought water, refilled it before we asked, brought all the correct food, stayed out of the way, asked if we needed anything, didn’t spill anything. The fact that you didn’t notice him is a sign of a great waiter.”
“I don’t thin
k I was ever that good. You’d really hire him?”
“Look at how honest the kid is. Besides, if he’s anything like me, he wants to get out of here and move to a big city.” She started the engine and pulled out.
“You think he’s gay?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“How could you tell?”
“What other kind of boy has a tiny safety pin with rainbow beads pinned to his shoelace?”
“I didn’t even notice that.”
“Well, I did.” She smiled to herself. “We have to look out for each other.”
“Does that mean I could have my old job back?”
“I thought you hated waiting tables.”
“I did. But maybe I’d like it better now that you’re upscaling. And I sure as heck will like it better than starving if I can’t find a job when I finish.”
“You’ll find something better than waiting tables, Karina, especially with your art-world connections.”
“I was thinking worst case scenario, that’s all…”
“I’m sure I could find something for you to do if you were desperate,” Jill said. “Let’s worry about one thing at a time.”
Three
The Key We Must Turn
Jill dropped me back at the hospital and went to meet the locksmith.
Mom seemed happy to see me again, and I kept up the chatter with her for a while. She volunteered nothing about her own life or the neighbors, which I took to mean her memory was still foggy and she knew it. Instead, she asked me questions. I ended up telling her a lot of things I’d never really bothered to before, like about my roommate Becky in New York, and about art history.
Of course she asked me one or two more things about James, but after what I’d told her before, she had settled in her mind that I was with a suitable man and therefore she no longer needed to grill me about him.
By all outward appearances, the conversation was very pleasant and the least contentious one we’d had since I was in college. But I felt weird knowing that her contentment was partly brought on by a blow to the head. She hadn’t been this accepting of me in years and she hadn’t been this uncritical since I was small.
When I figured Jill would be coming back soon, I couldn’t help myself. I started trying to prepare her. “Oh, Mom,” I said. “Jill got a really short haircut.”
“Did she? Whatever did she do that for? She’s the only one of us who could hold a real pin curl!”
“Well, you know, working in the restaurant like she does? Long hair is a health hazard.”
“Is it, now? The things you learn.”
When Jill came in, I repeated my act of earlier. “Jill!” I hugged her. That was far more demonstrative than we usually got, but Mom took the hint, nodding to Jill and saying “hello, dear” instead of completely ignoring her like she had been.
“Jill’s going to drive me back to the house now, Mom,” I told her, and kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll come check on you again tomorrow.”
“The doctor said if everything checks out okay, then you’ll be taking me with you,” Mom said.
“I hope so.” I kissed her again and then hurried out with Jill.
“How’s she doing?” Jill asked once we were in the parking lot. But before I could answer, her phone rang. She cursed and put it up to her ear. “Hey. Yeah, I know. I told you I’d let you know. She might be getting out tomorrow, but I won’t know for sure until morning. Yes, my sister’s here, but… Darby, listen, shut up for a second, will you? I get that you need me. But I can’t wave a magic wand and make it all better, okay?”
She unlocked the door and I got into the passenger seat of the unnaturally clean rental car, trying not to listen, but that was difficult to do when she was so vehement I could hear her right through the glass.
“Hold your horses and I’ll try to be back as soon as I can! I don’t know about tomorrow. Inspector? What inspector? The kitchen is your job, pal.”
She opened the door and got in. “Wait, what? Accessibility ramps? We have those! Okay, listen, I’ll have to call you later. I’m getting in the car now. Bye.”
She hung up while I could hear the person on the other end still trying to talk. She let out a long breath, then started the engine.
“They kind of need you there, don’t they?” I said.
“They’ll figure it out. It’s good for ’em,” she grumbled as she backed out of the parking space. “Anyway, how did she seem?”
“You know how you thought it was weird she was so cheerful? I think it’s weird she’s not haranguing me to bag some marriageable bachelor like a fourteen-point buck in deer season.”
“Did you tell her about the guy in New York?”
“I did. But I didn’t tell her we’re kind of on the outs right now. She’s like ‘when can I meet him?’ ” I sighed.
“I want to meet this mystery man, too.”
“Why? What if I dump him?”
“KayKay, I’ve never seen you this intense about a guy. I’ve never seen you this intense about anything. You better believe I’m curious about what’s changed. I mean, maybe it’s grad school and you’re getting ready to move on, but…” She shrugged like she didn’t want to say something that might offend me. Then she said it anyway. “You seem like you’re finally growing up.”
I stuck my tongue out at her to prove that I wasn’t, but that made us both laugh.
When we got to the house, Jill gave me a new set of keys. Dead bolts had been added to all the doors, and a new garage door opener had been installed. This one had a button remote as well as a keypad. I set a code for myself and then we went inside.
“Okay. I’m going to go up to my room and call him,” I announced, psyching myself up for it.
“Are you going to tell him to come here?”
“I don’t know. I might end up telling him to go to hell.”
“Well, if you need a shoulder to cry on after, I’ll be watching the game,” Jill said. “Don’t feel like you have to make up with him just to solve my problem.”
“I won’t,” I said.
I went up to my room and sat down on the bed. The drowsiness of jet lag that had stayed at bay all day suddenly swept through me. “Oof.”
I texted Stefan. Is he around? I want to talk.
The phone rang seconds later. James. I picked up without saying anything.
“Karina.” He cleared his throat.
“How did you find out about Betancourt?”
“A combination of knowing where to look and using the Internet. Most people are not good at hiding their aliases.”
“Aha. And you are.” I felt a flash of anger. I couldn’t help it.
“Yes, Karina, I am. I’ve got a bit more at stake than a two-bit con man who targets widows and divorcées.”
I tamped down my anger while I tried to focus on what he was telling me. “Is that what he is?”
“It appears so. Under his alias I found one restraining order against him, and at least two joint bank accounts with women’s names. All three women are widows or divorcées. I’d say that looks like a pattern, and I haven’t even dug much deeper.”
“Maybe he just likes older women,” I said, to be contrary.
“Or women appropriate for his age are better targets and better camouflage than younger ones,” he said. “Please don’t get mixed up with him, Karina.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“The woman who took out the restraining order certainly thought he was.”
We were silent a moment while I mulled that over.
“Karina,” he said suddenly, “I worry you’re not safe if he’s there.”
“You weren’t so concerned for my safety when you sent Damon George to try to get into my pants.” So much for tamping down my anger. “Where was your protective instinct then, James?”
He said nothing, and I wondered if he was trying to think up a justification or an apology. If he came out with a justification, I thought I might throw the phone across
the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, almost a whisper. “That was one of the stupidest things I’ve done in my life. I… I don’t even know what I was thinking.”
You weren’t thinking, I almost said, but I realized it was more than a snappy comeback. It was true. He had acted scared and hurt. He had tried to reassert control even while running from me.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“You don’t make the best decisions when you’re afraid,” I said.
“No, I don’t.”
“And you’re scared for me now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t get any bright ideas,” I warned.
He had clearly been thinking about it, because he immediately said, “At least let me send Stefan to protect you.”
“I don’t need a limo driver.”
He bristled. “Stefan is far more than a driver—!”
“I know. I know. Just busting your chops,” I said, calming down now that the wave of anger had ebbed. “You’d really do that? Send him here?”
“Your mother has been severely hurt, possibly by a con man intent on getting her money. I don’t even want to contemplate whether he’s desperate enough to hurt you, too. If Stefan’s mere presence is not enough to deter him, he is more than capable of defending you, as well.”
I couldn’t help it. Hearing how James’s way of speaking grew more and more precise the more emotional he got made me miss him terribly. I wanted to give him a chance to explain, but I wanted to be sure I was ready for it. You didn’t chase him all the way to England so you could slam the door in his face, I reminded myself.
I stood and looked out the window at the front yard. “You said you wanted to explain yourself to me in person.”
“Yes. I… I feel that’s best.”
“So you can put your dom aura on and make me believe you?”
“No, Karina. I don’t trust any other kind of communication. Not only for secrecy, but if we’re going to trust each other, we need to be in the same room. You need to see my face, hear my voice. You need to read me as much as I need to read you.”
Well, that was probably true. “And you aren’t afraid I’m going to strip-mine your soul?”