Trifecta

by Pam Richter

"Keep her out of this," Mark said harshly, and Sabrina suddenly knew he was really angry. "She's caused too much trouble as it is. I already explained, it was only that she looks exactly like you."

  "Well. Still. You go out with other women," Sabrina said stubbornly, feeling inadequate and disadvantaged in the revealing teddy. She knew she was defensive because of the attire. Logically, he was right. He had seen her with nothing on at all, and still liked her well enough.

  "And you go out with other men and make sure I know about it. What are you trying to do? I just don't understand you."

  "I don't sleep with them."

  "And I don't understand what's happening with our relationship, either. If we have one any more. I feel like the third, and very unnecessary wheel, every time you and Eve are together. One of you says one word and you both start laughing hysterically. Or both nod in perfect understanding. Like there's some kind of weird symbiosis going on."

  "She has all my memories," Sabrina said, trying to be reasonable. "We don't mean to leave you out."

  "You said we. We! She comes into your life and you destroy private property. Then she bites someone because you both are almost kidnapped. Definitely not normal behavior. And now you've lost your store. And probably most of your bank account, the way she eats. And that's not even counting all the clothes you have given her. Or renting an apartment for her. And everything is just fine? As far as I am concerned she's put you in serious jeopardy. The damn CIA, the damn Japanese and the damn Russians are after you, and the two of you silently communicate about it all, and act as if nothing important is happening."

  Sabrina shook her head but did not interrupt.

  "That lady is a walking time bomb, and I'm afraid she's going to get you hurt or killed. Or stuck in jail to rot away for years."

  Mark was now pacing the bedroom and throwing his arms around for emphasis and Sabrina stood still watching.

  "And I can't help it, but I hate that she knows our most secret and private memories, and just bandies them about. Like saying our sex life is good. As if she knew exactly what she was talking about. I hate that. And I hate the fact that you think everything she does is just Hunky Dorry. Just plain fine. And I hate the fact that I can't even tell you apart any more. I might find this grossly heavy woman in my bed some night, and that would be the only way I'd know it wasn't you. She could just squeeze me to death. She scares me and I wish you had left her at the...the mad professor's laboratory, where she belongs."

  "Well, if you don't like her, then you don't like me, because we are exactly alike. She has my body and my brain, and my memories. But in some ways she's better. She has freedom I wish I had. She cuts through all the hypocrisy with her computer. She can behave in ways I wish I could."

  "I'm afraid she's changing you, Sabrina. I want you to be the person I know. I want you on my side."

  "I'm always on your side."

  "No," Mark said, shaking his head. "You're on the side of your unnatural sister."

  "Unnatural? Unnatural?" Her voice went up high in disbelief.

  "Get real, Sabrina! Think! She was made in a lab. She's an experiment. What if she suddenly went lunatic? With her strength she could go cuckoo in a major way. Cause a lot of damage. Not even mentioning she has a tendency to growl when she's angry. I think she's dangerous. I wish she would leave."

  "She's the closest thing I've ever had to a family."

  "That's pretty sad."

  "Yes it is," Sabrina said, suddenly feeling sorry for herself.

  "I didn't mean it that way." Mark sounded apologetic.

  "It's not my fault that my mother died when I was born and that I don't have a father. You just don't understand. Eve is like my sister. And she actually likes you a lot, Mark. She knows you like I know you, because of my memories."

  Mark shook his head. "This whole thing is just too damn weird. I can't accept it. And I don't want her around all the time."

  "Then maybe you better leave," Sabrina said sadly, sitting down on the bed, forgetting all about the trashy teddy. "You obviously don't want to be around the person most like me in the world. Eve's a part of my life, now."

  Mark sat down beside Sabrina and took her hand. He was looking right into her eyes.

  "You know how I feel, Sabrina. She's a danger to you. The whole situation is getting out of control. I don't want you to get in trouble with the government, or to be kidnapped, or to go off to Japan. So I'm going to make a stand."

  "What do you mean?" Sabrina was frightened by his obvious seriousness.

  "You have to choose. Me or her."

  Sabrina looked at Mark. He was very grave and totally intent. His brown eyes were staring at her seriously.

  "You know how important she is to me," Sabrina pleaded. "How can you ask that? And what do I do? Tell her to hit the road? She needs me now."

  "She doesn't need anyone anymore. She has plenty of money and an identity. She should leave and set you free. You're both in serious danger and you two have to split up. So I'm going to ask you to be the one to do it. I want you to ask her to leave."

  "And if I don't?"

  "Then I will."

  "Ask her to leave?"

  "No. I'll leave."

  Sabrina looked at Mark. He was offering her nothing except his continued presence; not marriage or a future or anything permanent. If Eve left, she would continue to have Mark's presence, when it was convenient for him. She felt sad and empty and hoped he cared enough to stick by her. If he left, it would mean he didn't understand how scared she was at the situation herself, and how much she needed him now.

  Sabrina looked at him and wanted more than anything in the world to ask him to stay, to give the situation a little time, but felt that asking would be unfair. She and Eve really might get in trouble that would implicate Mark. She looked at him for a long time. She would have to take the chance. "I won't ask her to leave."

  Sabrina stood up quickly and went into the bathroom. She didn't want him to see her cry. She stayed in there until she could get control of herself. It took a while. The impact of losing her store that day had also taken its toll.

  When she came out of the bathroom Mark was gone.

  Sabrina wandered around the apartment trying to remember how to breath.

  CHAPTER 27

  If Sabrina slept at all that night she was not aware of it. Flashing images kept whirling around in circles, like bats screeching out of control in her mind. An impression of Mark's face. A scary image of the Russian kidnapper threatening her with a gun. Hashimoto, with his awful yellow teeth and disgusting mole, coveting her for a mistress, and dripping greasy noodles on his chin. Mark. Census Takers. A strobe of the hulking Steinbrenner's, with their malevolent glare as she had left the meeting that morning.

  Practical problems deviled Sabrina too, as she twisted and turned. Her design shop. Would it be successful in another location, or would she lose everything? The space on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills was exorbitantly expensive. It was also perfect. A depressing future of terrible debt and the necessity of working at a menial job for years, until her talent was beaten down or gone, loomed in her thoughts.

  Then surrealistic images of Mark came haunting. She remembered picnics, vacations and walks along the beach in Malibu with painful clarity. The years with him seemed like a beautiful dream. It was too painful to contemplate that he was really gone forever.

  Sabrina used her old trick of counting with each breath and trying to empty her mind, until she got to about a hundred and five. Then she got up and made hot chamomile tea. She surprised herself by bursting into tears when she burned her tongue. The crying jag lasted long after the pain from the scalded tongue subsided. Finally, Sabrina told herself harshly to quit acting like a baby.

  She turned on the television and lay in bed with the remote in her hand, changing channels every few seconds, rejecting stupid sitcoms and moronic late night talk shows. Finally she turned the television off and hugged a pillow as tears leaked slowly down her c
heeks and into the feathers.

  Sabrina's mind replayed the scenes from earlier that night with Mark, devising brilliant comebacks to each objection he had made to Eve's presence in her life. The problem that kept haunting was that Sabrina could not see exactly how Eve could logically continue to live here.

  With the doubts came anger at Mark. How could he have left her, now, when she needed him most. He was selfish and pigheaded. She was well rid of the conceited creep if he thought all he had to do was snap his fingers to get her to do his bidding. He couldn't care a wit if he could leave so easily. She should be glad he was gone. The selfish snot.

  Sabrina knew the painful changes, losing her store and Mark's abandonment, were due to the presence of Eve, but she didn't blame Eve and did not regret for a minute bringing her home. It was as if Eve had awakened a new, braver, kinder part of herself and opened possibilities she had never dreamed of. She knew she would live through the loss of Mark, painful as it was. She had lived through abandonment before, at a much younger age.

  The idea Sabrina had advocated a few days ago, to come out publicly with the fact that Eve had a computer, now seemed naive. If Eve was ever to have a real and free existence the computer had to be kept a secret, along with her other special abilities. Eve would never be safe if it was public knowledge that she different. She would be perceived as strange, threatening and therefore dangerous. She would be besieged by the curious and imprisoned to be studied. Her imprisonment would be said to be for the enrichment of all mankind, and for her own safety, but Eve would never be free. Too many greedy people wanted to use her and would do anything to get her. They would kill Eve to get the computer. And now, already, too many people knew about her.

  The two of them together drew too much speculation and attention. And it was difficult and uncomfortable to try to hide that there were two of them, even here at the building.

  Sabrina wrestled with the problem, and when she blearily got up at dawn and found herself clutching a tube of VO5 hairdressing to brush her teeth, concluded that Mark had been right. Eve would have to leave. She spit out the greasy hairdressing and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

  Eve knocked on the door and jauntily walked into the apartment, looking well rested, young and very energetic.

  Even in her depressed mood Sabrina couldn't help smiling at Eve's pigtails, which made her look about twelve years old. Eve followed her into the kitchen, got a bottle of syrup out of the refrigerator and sat down to drink it with vitamins. It was still fun, refreshing and unusual to have her presence in the kitchen in the mornings, and Sabrina felt her spirits lifting as she sat down with her cup of coffee. She could see Eve looking at her steadily.

  "You're eyelids are drooping."

  "I didn't sleep too well."

  Eve nodded and said, "When I deposited the cashier's check yesterday, I put the account in your name, too. So when I leave you won't have to worry about the new store. You should get the place on Wilshire."

  What was she talking about, Sabrina wondered. Did everyone understand Eve had to leave except her?

  "The location is perfect," Eve went on. "Right next to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel where lots of rich people stay. Of course, the serious rich expect serious prices. You'll have to jack them up. You'll lose money for about six months. After that, you'll have a spectacular designing house."

  How perfectly neat, Sabrina thought.

  Eve sat looking at her expectantly. "It's Mark."

  Sabrina nodded.

  "What happened?"

  "We had an argument," Sabrina said dismissively, not wishing Eve to know how preeminent a part she had taken in the disagreement. "I don't want your money."

  "You really need that Beverly Hills location."

  "How will you live?" Sabrina asked.

  "To stay free I have to be extremely wealthy and keep hopping around."

  "I don't want you to leave."

  "You understand that I have to?"

  Sabrina nodded reluctantly. "How can you make so much money?"

  "Speculate on the market. Invest in real estate and land. I'm good at predicting."

  "I don't understand."

  "Everything I read is stored, you know. I read the newspaper every day. I know all the prices of every item on all the stock exchanges."

  Sabrina suddenly had the feeling that Eve was moving light years ahead of her.

  "Now, tell me what happened with Mark."

  "I wanted to have a perfect night, and brought home a lace teddy from the store."

  "The black one? With the lace?"

  "How'd you know?"

  "I would have picked it. You must have looked spectacular."

  "Mark liked it."

  Eve nodded, "Men are very strange. They like to see the female form through things that partially hide it. It's obviously partly sociological, because nakedness is supposed to be wicked, and partly fantasy. But it's so silly, I don't bother. Ivar likes me, and I like not wearing cloths. He never complains. But I ought to try something slinky like that. What did Mark do?"

  "We argued because I looked like skinny trash."

  "Sabrina, if he liked it, why say that?"

  "It was true." She paused and swallowed hard. "Mark's not coming back."

  Eve shook her head sadly, rolling her eyes and looking worldly wise, like she was some kind of idiot. Sabrina had to laugh. Then she sobered quickly. Other people would not understand Eve like she did. It was scary that Eve was leaving with so little real knowledge of how malicious and mean people could be.

  "I'm very sorry, Sabrina. This is really the biggest loss you've ever had."

  Sabrina nodded. The enormousness had not even begun to penetrate yet.

  * * * * *

  Eve stood in front of an open-air newspaper stand on Fairfax Avenue. She picked up a copy of the Wall Street Journal Report, memorizing stocks and bonds listed in the tables. Then she picked up a copy of U.S. News and World Report and memorized the world stock figures. She did it so quickly that the busy old man watching for magazine-lifters had no idea she was memorizing financial statistics. He did notice that the beautiful girl was not touching the fashion magazines her sort usually stopped for. He was small and stocky and he put on his meanest scowl and waited for her gaze to lift from the page. Then he was looking into porcelain blue eyes, studying him back.

  "You just reading, or you gonna buy somthin'?"

  Her smile was a killer. "Browsing."

  "Ah, well." The man back-pedaled to collect from a couple of skinny boys studying muscle magazines. When he turned from the cash register the girl was beside him. She handed him a dollar and walked away.

  "Hey, you didn't buy nothing."

  The killer smile again. "You let me use your magazines."

  Hey, any time, the old guy whispered.

  Eve walked back toward Sabrina's Fashions, aware that Ivar and his partner were following in their car. She would have to disappear for Ivar too, and it suddenly felt like a knife would separate her from her own heart. Tears spurted abruptly out of her eyes. She didn't know if most people had such terrible, precipitous pains walking down sidewalks. She had never seen tears fall as fast and thick and sudden as hers did. She took kleenex out of her purse and wiped her wet cheeks.

  The tears prevented her from noticing the hulking Japanese men's approach until they were in front of her. Three of the men had stopped on the pavement in a line, their girth effectively barring forward progress. She almost growled. They looked totally impassive. One of them said that Mr. Hashimoto would like to talk to her, as she had left the luncheon precipitously yesterday. If she would please get into their car they would take her to him. Then they would bring her right back here and deposit her on the sidewalk, or anywhere she wished.

  Eve couldn't go around them, but she amused herself with the thought that she could jump over them, providing a rare spectacle to nearby pedestrians, not to mention the heavy traffic in the area. Jumping like a grasshopper would prove she was d
ifferent. As would running away. The Hulks were so bulky she could easily outdistance them, but again, she would be noticeable if she really put on some speed. Of course, if they attacked she could undoubtedly break a few legs and arms. After all, there were only three of them. She didn't seriously think they would use force. On the other hand, she didn't believe they knew which one she was, and if she was Sabrina she would probably be intimidated. She should act like Sabrina.

  A nanosecond had gone by when she said, "I'm sorry, but there's so much to do at the shop, I really can't see Mr. Hashimoto. Perhaps another time."

  "Mr. Hashimoto urged us to try to persuade you because he's leaving later today."

  That was pleasant news. The Hulk who was speaking possessed excellent English and was very polite. If she had not been so caught up with the momentary blindness from her tears she could have prevented this whole confrontation. Sabrina would be worried if she was gone too long.

  "Your sister agreed to come and meet with Mr. Hashimoto. She's already on the way. The meeting will be held at his suite, in the Century Plaza Hotel."

  Now, Eve understood. They had Sabrina. They had probably used the same tactic on her. Eve was furious with herself for leaving Sabrina alone even for few minutes.

  The Hulks ushered her to the car. One held her arm as she got in the back seat. Another had his hand above her to make sure she didn't bang her head. Eve thought, a Sabrina Thought, that these big men had much better manners than Hashimoto or any of his petite and well educated staff members.

  She could see Ivar's car parked not far away. She turned and watched to make sure he was in pursuit.

  Eve hoped the men would speak Japanese so she could learn something from them, but they were silent. The two sitting on either side of her, uncomfortable with her proximity, were squashed against the doors. The one driving, who spoke such excellent English, had bruises under his eye. She looked at each man in turn and wondered how such big men could have all been beaten up. Surely, being employed as a bodyguard did not often entail physical assault.

  Then Eve noticed that the men on each side of her were missing the little finger on their left hands. They were special Yakuza, Japanese bodyguards, who had shown Hashimoto their devotion by cutting off a finger. She wondered if they also possessed the characteristic body art, large tattoos of chrysanthemums and snakes. She did know that Yakuza were known to be killers as effective as Mafia hit men.