“I can’t figure if you are trying to help me or hinder me,” he said. “I trust you either way. Stupidly, perhaps.”
“Now that you’ve tested me.”
“I am sorry about that, and the business with those men in town. You should keep the bicycle.”
She picked up the letter opener he had been toying with and held it up. A ray of light bounced off it and she angled it, like she’d done when she was little and she had a cat. It had chased the light across the room. But it had been her father’s cat, and he’d taken it to Mexico City with him.
“I’m not helping or hindering you,” Viridiana said.
His eyes bored straight into hers.
She’d once thought Gregory looked a bit like San Judas Tadeo and a bit like a movie star, and to her, right then, Lawrence resembled Claudio Brook playing the ascetic in Buñuel’s film. The look of a man who has spent a long time in the desert and is thirsty.
Daisy appeared at the door. “Dinner is ready. Delfina made some wonderful fish, and I’ve assembled a perfect salad. Won’t you come with me?” she asked.
Daisy’s bad mood had evaporated, like turning the dial and switching to a different frequency. It surprised Viridiana because she figured the woman would be irritable with Lawrence around them, but she was terribly pleasant.
Viridiana didn’t enjoy the meal. She still felt a pain in her belly, that imaginary bezoar which was growing in size, and when she looked at the fish on her plate she had grim thoughts of pale sharks caught in nets. When she raised her head, invariably Lawrence seemed to be looking at her and although he lifted his eyes and turned to Daisy or Gregory, she could not help but feel unnerved.
“You’ve seen nothing of the area,” Daisy said.
“Nothing except the view from my window,” Lawrence replied.
“That’s a shame. Viridiana took my brother to see sharks.”
“Is that so?”
“Apparently they fish them here. And wasn’t there that other thing? A lighthouse?”
“It’s abandoned,” Viridian said.
“Still. You should ask Viridiana to take you on a tour. She knows all the coves and beaches in this area,” Daisy said. “Don’t you think, Greg?”
She didn’t like them offering her up like that, like she was a trained monkey who would do tricks for the visitor. But Gregory was smiling.
“She does. Maybe she can get you a discount on one of those big shark jaws we saw,” Gregory said. “You can hang it in your office.”
“A souvenir,” Daisy concluded.
The conversation went on. Viridiana was amazed at how easy it was for Daisy to talk about nothing of importance and yet never give the impression of boredom. The weather, the sea, the pottery that could be found around the house, they were all spoken about in an easy, light way. Yet Lawrence’s regard still felt heavy on Viridiana and when she walked him to the door, only then did the stone in her belly melt away.
“Tell me, then,” Lawrence said pointing at the new bicycle. “Will you keep it?”
The sun was setting and as the dark loomed close she could almost feel the desert coming alive around them. But it would not do it slowly. The desert was yawning and it would wait, and then all of a sudden, when stars dotted the sky, it would tremble and palpitate, wood rats emerging from their burrows, the moon cutting the sky like a scythe. Coyote’s moon, ravenous and masculine.
“Yes,” she said, because she wanted him gone. The evening had worn her down. She closed the door, her hand resting on the wall. She could feel the night outside taking shape. Viridiana walked back into the living room where Daisy and Gregory sat in perfect comfort.
“Come, sit down,” Daisy said, as she filled three little glasses with rum. “Let’s chat.”
“I should head to bed,” Viridiana said. “I haven’t been feeling right.”
“That’s a pity. But it won’t take long. Anyway, alcohol always fortifies the body,” Daisy declared. “At least, it makes everything taste better.”
Viridiana sat down, grabbed a glass and held it between her hands. Daisy, pleased with her cooperation, tossed her a friendly smile.
“We were talking, earlier, about how we should best tackle the question of dear Stanley Lawrence Landry. I think at this point it’s obvious it should be you who convinces him,” Daisy said, glancing at her brother and back at Viridiana.
“I’m not following you,” Viridiana said.
“The problem is obvious. We are entirely dependent on this man’s good will. He’s a nosy little junior detective, prying everywhere. We need him to acknowledge that no foul play took place here and give us the money that is due to us.”
It was Viridiana’s turn to glance at Gregory. He looked at her, serious. Daisy still spun her smile for Viridiana but Gregory had no glee left.
“So, my idea is that you should simply convince him to stop the prying and hand us the money,” Daisy concluded.
“Simply,” Viridiana said. “Me? I don’t have special mind powers.”
“But he trusts you. That’s what he said and I’m inclined to believe him.”
“You were listening to us?”
Viridiana set her glass down on the coffee table.
“Of course,” Daisy said, unencumbered by guilt.
Viridiana crossed her arms, tensing. “That’s great,” she muttered.
“It is what it is.”
“Just because someone says something, it doesn’t mean they are honest,” Viridiana replied, sarcastic. “You ought to know that.”
“Of course I know. I also know how to read people. Every gesture, the way they talk, how they move. What it means when they cross their arms in a protective way, like you do.”
Viridiana opened her mouth a little and closed it quickly. She pressed her hands against her lap. Her sarcasm had not served her at all, the little dig had been turned against her.
“Lawrence Landry likes you. Don’t ask me why, the appeal of dark-haired Madonnas escapes me,” Daisy said, “but he is not immune to your… charms. Which is great news to us, since we could use a bit of that little-girl prettiness to our advantage.”
“I’ve helped you quite a bit already, and I’m not—”
“You want to go to Paris?” Daisy asked setting her glass down, right next to Viridiana’s own.
Viridiana stared again at Gregory. He looked at her, helplessly, a fish on a hook, startled and upset. Then he looked down at the coffee table, as if inspecting it for scuff marks and stains.
“Don’t deny it. I’ve heard the whole thing already from Gregory. You are both looking forward to a new life in France. But you need money. The three of us need money. I am not going to dispute it, I’m happy to give Gregory his share and enable you two to sail off into the sunset,” Daisy made a dismissive hand motion. “That means the three of us have to make sure that rat bastard unfreezes the accounts and gives me my cut. We all profit.”
“You’re saying I should do exactly what?” Viridiana asked stiffly.
“I don’t know. Try the same things you’ve been doing with my brother, see if that smooths things out between all of us.”
There. Exactly what she had been wondering. Gregory had spoken candidly, he had revealed everything. Viridiana felt her cheeks flaming. The embarrassment was almost enough to render her mute.
“He wants you, plain and simple,” Daisy said. “He has it bad for you.”
“I’m not trying anything with Lawrence Landry,” Viridiana said, standing up.
“Sit down,” Daisy said, her voice rising a little, but only a little. She wasn’t willing to scream.
Viridiana did not, in fact, sit down. But she did not move, either. Which seemed enough for Daisy, who stood up, too. She was taller than Viridiana, but finer-boned. Skin like delicate china. For a split second, Viridiana wondered what would happen if she gave her a shove, if she struck that skin with her knuckles. She was not one for scuffles, but that
could change. She was changing.
“You’re going to do as I say, for one, because as I explained, we need the money. No money, you don’t get Gregory and macaroons and whatever the hell you are picturing in France. Second of all, if you don’t help us, I’m going to have to tell Lawrence Landry and the authorities about how you killed Ambrose.”
“I killed Ambrose?” Viridiana said, she scoffed. “You’re nuts.”
“No. I have the proof. There’s a recording where you go on and on about guilt and the dead guy—”
“You were in my room? What the fuck?”
“Cut it out. You were in my room, too.”
Viridiana curled her fingers into a closed fist.
“Yes, don’t think I didn’t notice. Unlike my brother, I keep my things out of sight and all in order. I know someone was riffling through my drawers. It’s only fair I listened to your tapes.”
“There’s nothing incriminating on that tape,” Viridiana muttered, but she was desperately trying to recall exactly what she had said. It had all been nonsense. She always talked nonsense to the recorder, it didn’t mean anything. She labelled the cassettes so neatly too, with the date on them. Daisy would have found it easy to pop the right one in and find her thoughts after the funeral.
“No? Then why are you trembling?”
She was, fear made physical. The tape had enough words which strung together would look very bad.
Hit her, she thought. Hit her.
Yet there was no way to strike Daisy, a black eye would fix nothing, and she didn’t even know how to throw a punch in the first place. It would be like trying to fight a shark in the water, hands slapping against the great white body, fists meeting teeth.
“Here’s how I see it. Of course, a single tape is not going to shift all the blame on to you, and if you start talking, you’ll get us in trouble quickly. But, I’ll make sure we all go down together for this.”
“Bitch,” Viridiana whispered.
Daisy chuckled. “Look, call me whatever you want, I’m making things clear. You want to play that game, we can. Or we can be nice and civil to each other, divvy up the money. Then we go our separate ways.”
Viridiana drew in her breath. She did not speak a word, the bezoar seemed to have moved to her chest, she could feel it protruding there.
“Viridiana,” Gregory said, filling the silence, like a coin tumbling into a well.
She stood up and rushed to her bedroom. He followed her. She tried to close the door on him, but he forced it open, wedged his way inside and Viridian stepped back, her back bumping against her desk.
“God, will you get out?” she said, her voice high-pitched, like a girl’s.
She was a girl. A stupid one.
“Give me five minutes and I will,” he told her.
“I don’t want to talk to you for five seconds. You’re blackmailing me!”
“I’m not. Daisy is.”
“Yeah, Daisy. You told her everything about us, about our plans.”
“She guessed most of it, and I had to tell her, alright? You think Daisy has stuff on you? She has real stuff on me.”
Of course, there had to be stuff. Gregory had hinted at plenty and she ought to have guessed the rest already. Theft, identity forgery, embezzlement. Murder, maybe? Ambrose was dead and Lawrence was right, these two had killed him. Or they hadn’t saved him. Who knew what they had done while Viridiana had driven to town for the doctor?
If they could rack one murder they could rack two, three…
Viridiana shook her head. “I don’t care. You could have lied, you could—”
“She has a fucking bullshit radar, besides, she needed to know about us at some point. Better now.”
She pressed a hand against her chest, against the pointy end of the bezoar which she was sure was protruding between her breasts. Viridiana grabbed hold of the chair by the desk and sat down. Her right foot grazed the waste basket. She remembered that Daisy had been in her room, she had taken at least one of her tapes and gone through her things.
It only helped to make her feel sicker. Seeing this, Gregory loomed closer. He set a hand on her shoulders before he knelt in front of her. He grabbed her hands, his thumbs on her wrists, gently massaging her skin.
“She has a point. We desperately need that cash and if you play your cards right Lawrence Landry will do as you say.”
“Why would he?”
“Because I recognize the looks he’s giving you.”
“What damn looks?” she asked.
Viridiana stared down at him and he ran his hands slowly up her arms. “Don’t play coy. You can get anything in life if you understand what people want,” Gregory said.
What she wanted was pretty dumb, Viridiana thought. Love, life, city lights. Was it too much to ask, those three things? They seemed small in comparison to whatever they must be envisioning. No doubt Daisy pictured a distant island, white sands, an exotic cocktail in her hand, sunglasses, a red parasol to match her bathing suit. A boat in the distance with her name on it.
“I’m not saying fuck the guy. But he seems a bit stupid. Lead him on.” Gregory told her
“Lead him on to what? Christ, you both… you both think—”
“We know people can be manipulated.”
“I’m sure,” Viridiana whispered.
“We’ve all got to survive somehow,” he said, his words sour.
His hands, which had stopped at her elbows, now crept up.
“I’m not lying about you and me. I’m not. I need to make a clean exit and I can’t without the money. Daisy doesn’t get her share, she’ll pin it on us. We don’t get our share, we are going nowhere. I’ve got to get out of this mess.”
“Yes, you get out, I—”
“I can’t alone. More than ever, now. Not alone.”
“You’re going to drag me into it, then.”
“You are already in it, Viridiana. From the very first day.”
She thought he’d try to take her clothes off, that he’d convince her to play another sexual game, but instead Gregory settled his head against her lap, holding on to her waist with one arm. Viridiana was very still until at last she touched his hair, running her fingers through it.
She thought, ironically, she might look like the dark-haired Madonna Daisy had mentioned right now. Pietà. The sacrilege of the thought made her smirk and she turned her head away.
“You thought you loved me until now, didn’t you?” he said. “Have you stopped?”
The room was curiously quiet. The hum of the generator, which troubled her most nights, had ceased. It was only the night outside, gnawing at the windows, but a night without any of the proper sounds which came with it.
“I love you,” she said.
He lifted his head, she could see the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He nodded.
“Good,” he said.
Chapter 18
It was early in the morning, too early for coherent thought. Since Ambrose’s death, their days had been spent in a lazy haze. To be woken up that early, to have the curtain drawn, was a shock. This is partly why Viridiana squinted, looked straight at the face of the stranger in her room, and didn’t immediately scream.
The other reason was because she’d been dreaming, and the dream confused her. It had involved the appearance of two yellow dogs in her room, which began biting her legs and tearing off chunks of flesh. This dream, this nightmare, had made her limbs so heavy that even when she opened her eyes her body felt like it was made of lead. She rose slowly from the embrace of the dream and stared at the man.
Gregory, who had been dozing off next to her, had also woken up, bumping his back against the bed’s headboard.
“Hi,” said the stranger. “It’s been a while, Jimmy.”
The stranger was short and strong, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that said “La Paz” with a picture of a smiling sun on it. He had a red bandana around his head. Like
an ordinary tourist. But she didn’t think he was ordinary at all.
“Scott,” Gregory said, running a hand through his hair. “Why, it’s good to see you.”
“I suspect it’s not. Come on over to the living room. We need to have ourselves a chat.”
They were both fully clothed, which made getting out of bed a lot easier. The night before, Gregory had slept with her, but that had been all, it was nice when it didn’t have to be all hand jobs and blow jobs and him groping her breasts.
They sat on the couch, side by side, and Daisy walked into the room with another stranger. This guy was tall and stick-thin, his hair cropped short, no jeans for him. He wore a velvet jacket and had a long, grave face. If he was playing the role of a tourist, it was the professor on a trip to study the flora of the region, not the frat boy.
The thin man sat down in front of them, Daisy by his side. The short man, Scott, remained standing, leaning a hand against the back of Gregory and Viridiana’s couch.
“It’s a nice place you have here,” the thin man said.
“It’s not ours,” Gregory said. “It’s a rental.”
“Still,” the man said. He took out a cigarette case from his jacket and it sprung open with one quick motion of his fingers. “Is the water okay for swimming?”
“It’s fine.”
“A pity you didn’t ask us over for a swim, you know.”
The thin man held the case open, for Daisy to have her pick. She did, and then he grabbed a cigarette too, snapped the case closed and put it away.
“I know we haven’t been in touch much—”
“Where’s the money?” the thin man asked. He didn’t sound rude or forceful. He sounded quite casual, as if he had asked what time it was. Not that this made Viridiana relax in the least.
“Henry, look Henry. It’s… it’s complicated, if I—”
“There’s no money,” Daisy said, interrupting Gregory. “My husband passed away and he’s left me squat.”
“That’s a pity,” the thin man sad.
The thin man lit Daisy’s cigarette. She held herself perfectly straight and did not fidget, she did not look nervous at all, whereas Viridiana thought she was going to throw up because these two men were Very Bad People and some Very Bad Things were about to happen. The nightmare had announced them, riding ahead of them, infiltrating her room and biting into her mind. It had been a portent of doom.
Untamed Shore Page 18