by JA Huss
But I just say, “Whoever makes the rules wins, Murphy. You know that just as well as I do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - ISSY
Whoever makes the rules wins.
Well, I can’t argue with that.
We left Jordan’s office after that little remark. He encouraged us, actually. Got up, pointed to the door, and said, “If you don’t mind, please close the door on your way out.”
“He’s hiding shit from his father,” Finn says. “Did you catch that little remark?”
I did, but so what?
“We could take this to him. I’m sure Wells Senior would be very interested in knowing what his son—and full partner in his very high-profile law firm—is doing.”
“We could,” I say, looking out the window as we travel down I-25 towards the Tech Center. “But we’d be following the wrong leads.”
Finn is quiet after that. Quiet the whole rest of the way. We’re already off the freeway, turning into the hotel, when he finally says, “We’re gonna figure this out.”
“Yup,” I say. “We are. For sure.” And then I look at him. Wait for him to look at me as we pull up to the valet. “But it’s not going to be good. It might be better to just walk away.”
“What?”
“Just pack up my shit, leave the country—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Finn,” I say, turning in my seat. “That guy on TV this morning. Caleb Kelly? He’s fuckin’ Mob, OK? And your boss, partner, whatever the fuck he is, was standing next to him. The FBI is dirtier than you ever imagined and we, the two of us, are right in the middle of it.”
“We’re not running,” he says.
“No? Then what are we doing?”
“We’re gonna tell them to go fuck themselves.”
Which makes me laugh. Just a little.
“That is your creed, right?” he asks.
“It is,” I say.
“Then live by it, Issy.”
This hits me hard. “I do live by it.” And I seethe out the words. “Don’t think one night of sex and danger makes you an expert on my life, OK? You don’t know shit.”
“Then tell me.”
“Why should I tell you? We’re not even on the same team.”
“What team is that?”
“Hell if I know what team you’re on. But my team is called Issy Grey. That’s who I play for.”
Then, before he can comment further, the valet is at the car, opening up our doors. I get out, hike my purse over my shoulder, and look around until I see Suzanne standing in front of the revolving doors holding a stack of files in her arms.
“There you are!” she says, walking quickly over to me. “Oh, who’s this?” she asks, looking up at Finn.
“Finn Murphy, meet Suzanne Levy. Suzanne, Finn. Now let’s get to work. I’ve got women to inspire.”
Once inside we take the elevator up to the banquet floor and come out into a room overflowing with women. The registration tables are busy, the vendor tables are packed, and I let Suzanne lead me into a small room where we’ve got command central set up.
I’ve done a lot of these seminars over the past several years, but this is only the second one I’ve done here in Denver. I like this place. I like Chella, I like my little downtown office. I like the women I’ve met so far. I like the mountains. I even went skiing for the first time last month and liked that too.
But I can like a lot of places. I’m not partial to places. I’m partial to survival. And seeing Caleb’s face on TV… well, that’s enough to kick me into survival mode.
I shouldn’t even do this seminar because I’ve already made up my mind to run again and that just gives Caleb time to come find me. But I can’t let all these women down. Today’s seminar is free. That’s how this works. I give a free seminar, inspire them, and the ones with the money get the hope.
But that’s not how it’s gonna work today. I’ll be gone by the time they come looking for me. I have an online class ready to go just for this kind of emergency. They can take that. It’s free too. So I’m actually looking out for them. I’m thinking of them as I take care of myself, so I’m not gonna feel bad about this. I can interact with them online. I won’t leave them stranded. I’ll figure out a way.
I look over at Finn, who’s got one arm across his chest and one hand up to his mouth, like he’s thinking pretty hard about something. And since he’s staring straight at me, I can only assume it’s me he’s thinking about.
“OK,” Suzanne says. “It’s go time. I’ll go start the introductions.”
I nod at her. She knows something’s up, but she won’t ask. Not right before a seminar. Suzanne has been with me since my very first book. She was the first point of contact at the agency I submitted the proposal to. She saved it from the slush pile, pushed it hard, and when her boss said no, she called me herself.
Which was probably unethical on her part. But in her defense, she quit that job immediately and started working for me. We’ve been a team ever since.
Until now. Because this is all over. It was a good run. A pretty wild ride. I mean, looking back on all I’ve accomplished in the last eight years, it’s a miracle, really. Suzanne will go her way, I’ll go my way, and everything will be done virtually from now on.
“Hey,” Suzanne says, squeezing my arm. “You’re gonna be great.”
Which isn’t some meaningless affirmation to calm my stage fright. It’s not even about the seminar today. It’s about tomorrow. It’s written all over my face. It’s in my expression, playing out through body language. She sees it coming. She must just… feel it. And we’ve had a contingency plan in place since the very first webinar. She knows there’s more to my life than I tell the clients. Much more.
“Yeah, everything’s gonna be great,” I reply.
She smiles at me, then opens the door—letting in the dull roar of three hundred people out in the ballroom—and then closes it behind her, stifling it again.
I look at Finn. He says, “I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but whatever it is, don’t.”
I smile. It’s kinda real. I like him. He’s not too uptight, but not too easy-going either. Kind of a middle-of-the-road guy. Which I can appreciate. I spent most of my life living the highs and lows, riding them like a surfer rides a wave. I had no clue how much energy it took to live like that until I started doing yoga, and tai chi, and meditation. Life just got… simple when I let things go. And I’ve always had the kickboxing and the jujitsu, which kinda took all that stagnant energy and gave it a home.
Being Issy Grey has been bliss. But I wasn’t always Issy Grey. I found bliss once. I can find it again.
“Look,” I say, turning my back on him. “I appreciate your help and everything, but—”
“No buts, Issy. And let’s just not talk about it now, OK? There’s time later.”
“Sure,” I agree. Because I can hear Suzanne talking into the microphone in the ballroom. She’s talking me up. Telling them how we met, about the book, and the first seminar. Then finally, how many people have taken the coaching classes and graduated. Giving these newcomers hope by letting them envision themselves at the end of the journey.
And then she gets to the last part. The part where she finally has them welcome me to the stage.
So I look at Finn and say, “See you on the other side.”
And his expression changes and he knows what that means, but it’s too late. I walk through the door and out into a standing ovation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - FINN
I am Team Issy.
That’s all I know. That’s all I think about as I stand off to the side of the stage and watch her as she takes a room full of sad and desperate women and turns that into hope.
She starts with her story. And even though I wish I was hearing it in private, and even though I know this is probably only a fraction of what’s happened to her because no one shares everything in public, it satisfies me. It cements
my feet firmly in front of her. It makes me want to fight her battles, keep her safe, and love her hard.
“I was lost once,” is how she starts the story. “Unrecognizable when I looked in the mirror. I was eighteen, and who isn’t lost at eighteen, right?”
I watch the crowd of women, many of whom nod their heads, thinking back on their own misspent youth.
“And I got involved with a man. A very bad one, at that.”
Which I can only assume is Caleb Kelly. Newly released prisoner. Everything that’s happening points to the mob.
But I know. I already know. Not the specifics. I don’t need the specifics. When a woman runs from a man, it’s usually for one of two reasons. She runs for her life or the lives of her children.
Issy doesn’t have children, so it’s the former.
Whatever he did to scare her so bad, well… it doesn’t need to be said.
She doesn’t say it now, but we all know.
As I glance around the filled-up room I see some of them are crying. Some of them look angry. Some of them look lost.
All of them look at Issy.
She looks very small up on that stage. But then again, she looks very big too. Her voice is loud, and strong, and confident. Even though something very bad is happening to her today.
She puts on the brave face. The face of a warrior. The face of a winner. The face of a woman. And she takes their pain and remolds it into hope.
I’ve seen other self-help speakers. Not a lot, but there was a time in my life a few years back where I was all gung-ho about remaking myself. Becoming a better man and shit like that. So I read books, and I went to seminars—much like this one, but then again, nothing like this one at all. And I took a few classes and yeah. It helped.
But I never, ever experienced this.
Issy Grey is a phenomenon.
She is world-class.
And soon, woman are shouting out to her as she talks. Things like, “Yes.” Things like, “Holy shit.” Things like, “You’re my hero.”
Because her story goes from bad, to worse, to evil. And she goes from pitied, to sympathetic, to admired.
And she tells them almost no details. No names. No specifics. Nothing like that. It’s just… this time, and this guy, and this gun.
Gun.
Gun.
It echoes in my head. And I need to know more. I need to know all of it. Not so I can understand her. I already understand her. But so I can join her. So I can walk by her side. So I can take up her banner and proclaim myself loyal.
Eventually I find myself sitting in a chair near the front row. The woman next to me is crying and I have a sudden urge to take her in my arms and tell her it’s all gonna be OK. That she is strong. That she is valued. That she’s capable.
But I don’t need to, because the woman sitting next to her does it first. I don’t think they’re together, either. I think… I think two hours ago they were total strangers and now they’re hugging like sisters.
Issy has a plan. She doesn’t talk about what it will cost them, at least not in dollars. She talks about the parts of themselves they need to leave behind to move forward. She talks about guilt, because failure and guilt go together. She talks about forgiveness. Not for the people who hurt them—although that’s encouraged too because, to quote Issy herself, “Forgiveness is freedom”—but for themselves. Because everyone makes mistakes and mistakes don’t define you unless you let them. Mistakes are just tools to make better decisions in the future.
And by the time the seminar is over, we’re a family. Just me, Issy Grey, her assistant, Suzanne, and three hundred sad, but hopeful, women.
She says thank you, directs them to her website where a free online course is waiting for them, and then exits the stage.
I can hear them all whisper. “Free? Did she say free?”
Yes, that’s what she said. Which means there will not be another masterclass.
The woman in front of me already has the website pulled up on her phone. Her excitement about the course is hard to contain, so in a matter of thirty seconds, all the women around me are gathered in front of her phone. Filled with hope. Filled with relief. Filled with thoughts of salvation.
I stand up, because I know I should make my way back to that little staging room. I know I have to stop whatever escape plan Issy’s about to enact. I know all this, but I find myself transfixed. Stilled. By this woman. By her performance? No, by her honesty. Her sense of responsibility to these three hundred strangers.
So I take just another minute, just sixty more seconds. And I see them. Like really see them.
And I realize…
We are all Team Issy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - ISSY
There’s always a bunch of commotion after a seminar. People want to talk to me, get my opinions, tell me their story. And I want to listen. I usually do listen. But today… today I need to get out of here. I spy Finn in the open door of the staging room. He towers over most of the women. His eyes are searching for me, because I get lost in a crowd. And then his gaze finds mine and he smiles.
I smile back, even though I don’t feel much like smiling. Talking to people about their lives, the things that hold them back, and how to find hope for the future is an exhausting thing. And this time afterward is typically how I recharge the sadness I see on their faces as I talk.
But today it’s Finn’s smile that recharges me. I sign books, because that’s my job. And I listen to them, and smile, because I owe them that. We’re in this together, all of us, so I owe them that. And I’m grateful. Even though this life is over for me, it’s just starting for them.
The free online course will help them. I’ll try to answer emails for a while, but I’m leaving town today. I’m disappearing, turning into someone new tomorrow.
I look at Suzanne and she sighs, looking straight at me. She knows what’s coming, but she doesn’t know why. She has no details.
“What’s wrong?” she mouths from across the room.
“I need to get out of here,” I mouth back. Slowly, so she can read my lips.
She nods, then starts talking loudly, trying to get everyone’s attention.
I take one last look at Finn, who is caught in the crowd, trying to make his way towards me, and turn away.
There’s a door in the back of the room that leads to a more-or-less private hallway. And there’s a stairwell there. I know that much. So that’s where I end up.
“Issy!” Finn calls from behind me. “Wait!”
I want to run. Right now. Because I kinda like him. Even though I’ve known this man less than a day, it was kind of a fun day. The pleasure of panic. I guess it’s true. Danger, even just the perception of danger, brings people closer. It creates bonds that don’t evolve in any other situation.
But it wasn’t just the perception of danger, was it?
“Issy,” he says again when I disappear into the stairwell and let the door close behind me.
But he follows, and a few seconds later he’s jumping down the flight of stairs I’ve descended and blocking my way. “Where are you going?”
I sigh, shaking my head.
“You’re not giving up?” He says this like, You, of all people, giving up?
“I gotta leave, Finn. I’m sorry. I like you, and if things were different, we’d probably hit it off. Probably date. Maybe even last a while. But I’m not going to put myself in danger for the possibility of a relationship. You’re some kind of distraction, I think.”
“Issy,” he says, holding his hand up, palm towards me. “I swear—”
“I don’t think you’re in on it, Finn. But someone is fucking with me. And maybe you too.” I shrug. “Your partner, Declan. He’s dangerous. He’s got a position, and power, and a badge. And he was standing next to Caleb Kelly on TV this morning. A man… a very bad man, who should be in prison, but isn’t.” And I don’t want to say the rest, but it comes out anyway. Because it must be said. “He should be in prison, and isn’t. Ju
st. Like. You.”
That hits him pretty hard. He deflates a little. But he’s not done trying. “Just…” he starts, but stops. And I get it. It’s hard to know what to say when you’re unsure of what’s happening. “Just hold that thought,” he says, taking my hand, leading me down the stairs. “Just hold that thought because we need to stop time for a little bit and just clear our heads.”
I let him lead me, because that’s where I was heading anyway. And when we burst through the doors on the ground floor, he looks both ways, like he’s undecided. Like he has no plan. And I just want to pull away. Leave this hotel, leave this town, get on the road and leave it all behind.
I can start again. I’ve done it before.
But then he goes right. He heads down the hallway. We enter the edge of the lobby, and he looks down at me and smiles a smile that says, Don’t underestimate me.
We get in line at the front desk. “What… what are you doing?” I ask.
But before he can answer, one of the reception people calls him forward to the counter.
“We’d like your best room, please,” Finn says. “We don’t have a reservation.”
“Let me check for you,” the man at the desk says, his fingers clicking over a keyboard. He lifts one eyebrow, looks up at Finn, then over at me. “The best?” he asks. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Finn says.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Stopping time,” he whispers back. He hands over his credit card and ID, and a few minutes later he’s leading me towards the elevators.
I exhale on the way up to the top floor, torn between leaving and staying. I’m totally on board with a timeout. But we can only run from reality for so long before—
“Stop,” Finn says. “Stop thinking about the future. We’re in the here and now, Issy. Be present.”
Normally that might rub me the wrong way. I’m always present.
Except for today. Today my world got upended and it’s been a very long time since I needed to concentrate on my own advice. The stuff I say on stage at seminars. The stuff I write in books. The stuff I tell other women to do.