Smoke

by Meili Cady

  It can’t be that big of a difference to just go to the first bank I see.

  The taxi driver took me to a seedy part of town that was completely unfamiliar to me. He pulled up to a bank. “Can you wait for me?” I asked him. “I need to go to the airport right after this.”

  It’s probably good that I didn’t use the same cabdriver to and from the airport. That could have raised some suspicion.

  The driver reluctantly agreed to wait for me after making it clear that I would be charged for his time. “That’s okay! No problem, I’ll pay it,” I said. “I’ll be back soon. Thanks!”

  I walked into the bank with the duffel bag. The vibe was tense from the moment I stepped inside. Everyone was looking at me. They were staring. They could tell that something was off. It must have been obvious in every move I made, every cautious step I took, every nervous glance as my eyes darted around the bank.

  The teller raised an eyebrow when I told him that I needed to wire forty thousand dollars in cash by the end of the business day. “Ma’am, typically that would require at least a full business day for the funds to be transferred . . .”

  Something isn’t right.

  A bank manager appeared behind the teller when he saw that tension was building. I noticed eyes of other employees peeking out from over their cubicles around the bank.

  They’re listening.

  “I need to wire this to JetSetter Charter,” I told the manager with a straight face. He looked at the bag of cash and furrowed his brow.

  “I’m just wondering why it needs to be done so quickly,” he said. “That is an unusual request, and that’s an unusual amount of cash for a young lady to be walking around with. You have to understand. We’re not used to seeing this kind of thing. It’s . . . unusual.” He blinked at me, waiting for a response, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. He went on. “Is this your money?”

  “It belongs to my boss,” I told him, trying to keep myself collected. He could tell that I was nervous. I wasn’t used to being asked so many questions. I wanted to take the money and run out of the bank.

  I wish that Barry were here. Why didn’t I get the address for his bank?

  “Who is your boss?” he asked me.

  “She’s, uh, an heiress . . . to Samsung.”

  “Samsung, like the phones?” he said.

  “Yes, Samsung electronics,” I said. “I’ll just go ahead and ask her what she’d like me to do.” I stepped to the side of the line. He watched me carefully, then whispered something to one of the tellers. The manager disappeared into the back of the bank.

  He’s going to call someone. What is he doing?

  I texted Lisette for help.

  WHY DIDN’T YOU GO SEE BARRY? she asked. She was livid, and I could see why. THAT IS THE ONLY BANK WE GO TO THERE. I DON’T KNOW ANYONE AT THE BRANCH YOU’RE AT. SHIT. GIVE ME THEIR PHONE NUMBER. I’LL CALL IN.

  The bank manager reappeared and looked at me expectantly.

  Maybe he didn’t call anyone after all.

  I didn’t know who he would call or what he would say, but I knew that he found my behavior “unusual,” which meant that he didn’t believe a word I was saying. “She is going to call,” I told him.

  “Wonderful,” he said. A phone rang behind him. A teller answered, then handed the manager the phone. It was Lisette. I couldn’t hear much of their conversation behind the glass. He was doing a lot of nodding.

  Is that good?

  I could hear the employees whispering about me.

  This is taking too long.

  My heart pounded.

  God only knows what Lisette said to him, but it worked. She’d always known how to persuade people; I had to give her that. By some small miracle, the manager let me complete the wire transfer to JetSetter. I walked out the door with my mission complete. I resisted an instinct to sprint into the parking lot and tell the cabdriver to hit the gas.

  I had sweated through my blazer by the time I climbed back into the taxi to return to the airport.

  PART THREE

  CRASHING

  13

  LOST IN COLUMBUS

  Team LL was scheduled to be in Ohio on February 14, but we would be returning to Los Angeles that evening, just in time for me to see Ben and celebrate my first Valentine’s Day with a boyfriend. I’d always been envious watching girls be given stuffed animals by their valentines, and though it was a petty, adolescent wish, I was secretly hoping that Ben would give me one. I didn’t care what kind of stuffed animal it was. I would have been happy with a Beanie Baby, as long as it was from him.

  On the eve of the Hallmark holiday, Lisette and I were ready for bed in our shared Columbus hotel room. As Lisette sat cross-legged on one of our queen beds in her pajamas, I showed her the greeting card that I’d bought for Ben. “I looked at a ton of cards in the store, but I thought this one was perfect,” I told her. I’d never bought a card for a love interest on Valentine’s before, and I’d spent an egregious amount of time trying to pick the right one. I lay on my stomach and rested my elbows on a pillow as she examined the card in her hand and read the front of it aloud.

  “Okay, here we go. ‘I have fallen in love many times,’” she read. Her expression went from vaguely curious to amused. “Oh,” she said, laughing, “that’s a great thing to tell someone. Make the boy feel special. I’m liking this card more and more.”

  “No,” I insisted. “Read the inside.” She frowned.

  “Okay. ‘I have fallen in love many times . . .’” She opened the card to read the continued message on the inside. “‘. . . always with you.’” She closed the card and tossed it away from her on the bed. “That’s very . . . romantic,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

  I got up and grabbed two sealed envelopes from my suitcase. “And of course I got a card for my girl too,” I said. “Okay, maybe two.”

  Lisette’s eyes lit up. She grabbed the cards and said with a smug grin, “Well, shit, I hope so, after that mush you made me read. My cards better be mushier.”

  I bought two Valentine’s Day cards for Lisette instead of one, as I’d usually get her, because I didn’t want her to feel sensitive about my plans with a boyfriend this year. She appeared alternately moved and entertained as she read my messages on each card. The message in one of them was a heartfelt, wordy profession of sentiments, and the other card was meant for humor. Lisette finished reading both and gave me a hug. “Thank you, sweetie, those mean a lot to me,” she said. “Now you have to open your card!” She looked excited as she went to her purse and took out a large pink envelope.

  “Aw! It’s so big!” I said, gently opening it. On the front of the card there was a colorful picture of Tinker Bell smiling and sprinkling glittery dust into the air. I opened the card and read Lisette’s handwritten message:

  Angel,

  Because to me you are a magical little fairy that flew into my life and sprinkled your glitter of love, friendship, loyalty, laughs, our tears, our hugs, our sneaky times, and so much more into my heart and soul, I got you this card. I thought I had it all before you, but after experiencing true love and heartfelt do-or-die friendship with my “alter ego” BFF, I now know what I was missing. Your place in my heart is forever and primary till my last breath.

  I love you my Angel love,

  Allegra-Lisette Lee Morita

  I looked up from her card with tears in my eyes. “Thank you,” I said. “That was beautiful.” Lisette appeared to be near tears too—a rare side of her that almost no one saw. I felt blessed whenever I saw her like this. We set our cards aside and stayed awake talking and giggling from our respective beds until we drifted into sleep.

  In the morning, Team LL hustled to get ready to head to the private airport. I woke up beaming, knowing that it was now officially Valentine’s Day and I was going to see Ben tonight. Lisette got ready before me. She left our room and went into the adjoining room where Frankie and Henry had stayed. I dressed and packed up my personal suitcas
e. I took a pair of earrings from the bedside table that I’d placed there the night before. With the earrings on, I looked around the bedside table for my diamond ring. I wore it every day, but it was too big to comfortably sleep with, so I always took it off and set it aside before I went to bed. I didn’t see it on the table. I’d been drinking with Lisette last night, so I might have put it somewhere else and forgotten. I couldn’t remember. I could have sworn I’d put it with my earrings. I leaned down to see if perhaps it had fallen behind the table. It wasn’t there. Panic began to rise in me. I dropped to my knees and crawled around on the stale hotel room carpet, lowering my body to look underneath both beds. I frantically prayed that I’d find it before Lisette discovered that I’d lost it. I stood up and scanned the floor in the room. I rushed to the bathroom to check if I’d left my ring by the sink. It wasn’t in the bathroom.

  Where the hell is it?

  My phone beeped with a text message from Lisette. BABE COME TO THE ROOM. WE HAVE TO LEAVE, she wrote. Adrenaline and despair came over me in a sickening wave. The door between the adjoining rooms swung open and Lisette walked in. “Babe, what are you doing?” she asked me. “We have to go.” I faced her, frozen for a moment. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  My heart sank as I told her, “I can’t find my ring.” Her eyes widened. She stared at me in silence for a moment. “I’m still looking for it,” I said. “I thought I left it by the bed, but it’s not there. I looked everywhere in the room. Do you think maybe it’s in the guys’ room?” Lisette stood with her arms stiff at her sides. She looked away from me and took a deep breath.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess we should check.” She looked pissed. Lisette walked into the guys’ room. I followed her. “Meili lost her ring,” she announced to Frankie and Henry, who were standing among ten suitcases with their shoes on, ready to leave for the airport.

  “Are you fucking serious?” Frankie asked. I could feel tears filling my eyes, threatening to fall down my cheeks. I nodded.

  Frankie, Lisette, and Henry helped me search around both adjoining rooms until Lisette finally said, “We have to go. I guess it’s gone forever.” She wouldn’t look at me. It broke my heart to leave our hotel, knowing that my beloved ring must still be there somewhere.

  On the drive to the airport Henry and Frankie both gave me the cold shoulder. Lisette seemed wounded and indignant. On the plane, I sat in shame. By the time we were airborne and en route to L.A., I unraveled, sobbing into my hands. I couldn’t help it. I was overcome with guilt. The pilots could hear me, and their discomfort only added to the already heavy tension on the plane.

  I’d never been more devastated over the loss of something material. I would never have pawned the ring or had it appraised, so the monetary loss was beside the point. I couldn’t believe that I’d lost the ring that Lisette gave me. It was a symbol of our friendship, and I’d carelessly lost track of it. The symbolism was obvious to everyone on the plane, and to none more than Lisette. She came to stand by me where I sat, pressing my face into my palms. “Stop crying,” she said. “We left our information at the hotel. They’re going to call us if it turns up. Though I doubt anyone would turn it in if they found it.”

  “I don’t even know what to say,” I told her, trying to breathe. She stared at me behind a stoic expression.

  “I know it was an accident,” she said. “Accidents happen. But the thing that gets me, what really hurts . . . is that I can’t help but wonder if you would have lost the ring if Ben was the one who’d given it to you.”

  Her words cut me. “What?” I said, looking up. “No, Lisette, if I lost the one you gave me, then I’d just as easily have lost it if it had been from him or anyone.” She watched me as I began to collect myself.

  “I’m upset,” she said. “I’ll be honest, I’m really hurt . . . But I forgive you.” This choked me up even more.

  “Thanks,” I said, rubbing my now puffy red face with my hands. “I think I’m going to cancel my plans with Ben tonight.”

  “Don’t do that,” Lisette said. “I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.” She abruptly turned away from me and walked back down the aisle to her seat.

  I was completely deflated and emotionally exhausted by the time we arrived back in Los Angeles. I went home with a heavy heart to wait for Ben to meet me at my apartment. I was no longer excited about celebrating now, but I wanted to make some effort to be in a better mood to avoid ruining not only Lisette’s Valentine’s Day, but Ben’s too. If a girlfriend were to ever cancel on a guy, it shouldn’t be on Valentine’s Day. I changed into a dress and sat on my bed to wait for him. I opened his card to fill it out before he arrived. I’d planned to write him a thoughtful, long message, but I didn’t have it in me right now. I simply wrote “I love you” and sealed the envelope. Brie was home, and when there was a knock on our door, she offered to let Ben in. I breathed out, trying to overcome my devastation about losing the ring and put on a happy face for my boyfriend.

  Ben walked into my bedroom holding a bouquet of a dozen red roses, a card with my name on it, and a stuffed teddy bear with a red bow around its neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said as he set everything down and wrapped his arms around me.

  In lieu of a fancy dinner with a reservation, we walked to the late-night diner at the Roosevelt Hotel to get grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I hadn’t thought it was possible after such a disastrous morning in Ohio, but against the odds, Ben and I shared an incredible Valentine’s night together. When he left my bed in the morning to go home and study, the teddy bear took his place in my arms. I slept in after he left, holding the bear close to me like a security blanket. I may not have had the ring anymore, but I had the stuffed animal I’d always wanted, and at that moment it was worth more to me than any diamond.

  14

  NO REST FOR THE WICKED

  After the ring debacle, Lisette told me in an impersonal message that we wouldn’t be flying to Columbus that week, but that I should be prepared to leave “soon,” as always.

  Lisette refused to pay anyone in advance of trips to Ohio. I’d been overdrawn in my checking account more than once while we’d flown out on a private jet. The irony weighed heavily on me—the in-flight champagne doesn’t taste as good when you know you’re broke. I drank it anyway. What else was I going to do? At this point, I was so shell-shocked by everything that had been happening that I doubted I could keep my wits about me in another job. I felt such a departure from normal society now that I was uncomfortable when I was in it.

  I couldn’t come to terms with the reality I’d created for myself. My decisions stared back at me every time I looked in the mirror, and I had nothing to say for them. I had never openly discussed what was happening with Lisette, and I couldn’t go to anyone else at that point. Every opportunity to turn back was behind me now. I drank every night just to try to sleep, and when I did finally sleep, I had nightmares. I dreamed that I was being chased. The people chasing me varied from police officers to Mexican gang members. I usually woke up right before they caught me, or, in the case of the gang members, right before they were going to kill me. I had a haunting dream one night that I was hanging by my fingers on the edge of a cliff and Lisette was looking down at me as I screamed out to her for help. She turned and walked away casually, leaving me there to die. I woke up from every nightmare covered in sweat and frantic to check my phone and see if Lisette had texted me.

  AS MUCH AS I DIDN’T want to go on more trips or smuggle more drugs, I needed cash. I was running out of money. Weeks had passed since the last trip to Ohio, but Lisette continued to instruct me to wire large sums of cash to JetSetter Charter. She said that the money would go toward future jet rentals, but I suspected that trips were happening without me. I wondered if, on some level, she wanted to punish me for loving someone else. She knew that I was almost broke again. Was it possible she was intentionally punishing me by depriving me of income? Whenever I brought up the idea of g
etting a second job, she discouraged me from doing so, saying that she needed me to be available, that we’d be leaving again “any day now.” I felt a little guilty for thinking she might be hiding things from me. I tried to kick my suspicions, but my gut feeling was becoming hard to ignore—hard, though not impossible. I was already in a habit of disregarding any gut feelings that weren’t in line with my employ or friendship with Lisette.

  Brie had witnessed my erosion in stability and any notable joy. She watched me pacing the hardwood floors in our apartment, paranoid of cryptic texts from Lisette and anxious about the increasing fragility of my romance with Ben. The new prescription drugs he was taking had changed him, and our relationship had taken a sad, sharp turn for the worse. His once constant adoration and affection for me had diminished to what seemed like apathy, and I didn’t know if it was the drugs or if he’d finally tired of my secrets. Anyone would have tired of them eventually, and perhaps his new prescription cocktail had merely sped up the inevitable. I knew I would never be the one to leave him; I was still holding on to the memory of the happiness I’d experienced. But our relationship was doomed either way. Lisette had never approved of him. I’d sworn years ago to spend my life with Lisette, and without her blessing I could never feel entirely content with someone else.

  The dozen roses that Ben had given me for Valentine’s Day were on their last leg of life in a black glass vase in our dining room. I hadn’t heard from him for hours one afternoon, and I was paranoid that he’d purposely been ignoring me. Brie was home, sketching in her bedroom with her door open. An Edith Piaf song played through her computer speakers, and a glass of red wine sat at her bedside. I’d been nursing a bottle of Seagram’s since noon, but it hadn’t done much to calm my nerves. I went outside to smoke a cigarette and finish a vodka soda. When I came back in, I set the now empty glass down and took one last look at my cell phone. Still nothing from Ben. And still, nothing from Lisette. What the hell was I waiting to hear from either of them anyway? I stared at the phone like it was going to tell me something that could make everything okay. But everything wasn’t okay, and it wasn’t going to be.