Ceasefire

by Black, Scarlett

  “Meeting with Wickam’s contact. He’s going to help.”

  “Help how?”

  I hesitated. “Um, the less you know, the better.”

  “Kim, no.”

  “I’m serious. It’s not the most…legal thing we could come up with and I don’t want you getting mixed up in it. If anything happens, you can claim ignorance and it’ll be the truth.”

  “What do you mean if anything happens? Is it dangerous? Because if it’s dangerous, I don’t want you—”

  I stepped off the curb and into the library parking lot, splashing through the collected puddles, and interrupted her. “It’s Roman.”

  “Roman? Oh my God, how?”

  “Million different possibilities.”

  “Are you sure? We’ve been so careful and I’m positive that none of the girls would’ve told him, not even if he tried to buy them off, you know?”

  “Right, they’re earning too much already. Anyway, the point is, it’s him, and how he found out…it doesn’t matter. He knows we…I mean he knows I stole some of his top earners from him, and he’s looking for some payback.”

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “Michelle?”

  “What?”

  “Walk away for a couple of days. I’ll be fine. This guy I met, he knows what he’s doing. We’re gonna take care of things and then we’ll be back to normal.”

  “What does ‘take care of things’ mean?”

  “Bye, Michelle. Say hi to Aaron for me.” I heard her sharp, “Wait—” get cut off as I hung up. More than likely, she’d be on my front doorstep that evening.

  I wouldn’t be there. I would’ve already spent my time with Joey, hugging every possible ounce of love that I could squeeze out of him, likely crying and wishing on every star that I’d made different decisions. Harris had assured me that I wouldn’t be in any real danger, but he couldn’t guarantee it. You can’t account for crazy.

  I took a deep breath. A dark green pickup cruised by, parting the deep puddles like Moses and the Red Sea. Harris stuck his hand out the driver’s side window and offered a reassuring thumbs-up. It wasn’t as comforting as he thought.

  Next, I called Finn. I had to see him because I had no idea what the next day or two would bring, and it was better to get some things off my chest now than to potentially do it from a hospital bed. Or, you know, as a ghost returning to haunt him. Messages from the afterlife aren’t usually that well received.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  God, it was so good to hear his voice again.

  “Not really. Can I see you, like right now?”

  “Yeah, you want to grab some lunch together?”

  “I’m not sure I could eat, but I’ll watch you.”

  “I’ll be sure to chew with my mouth closed this time.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I sat across from him in a booth. We were at some old greasy-spoon diner downtown that served nothing but breakfast twenty-four seven. I’d seen it for years but never dared to enter. That was back when I was worried about what Dreama would think of all the extra calories. I’d already changed my mind about not being hungry. I realized I hadn’t had a full meal in days. The smell of crackling bacon on the grill, pancakes, biscuits, french toast, it was all too much for my growling stomach to ignore. Fifties music played over the speakers while we held hands and waited on our coffee to arrive.

  The small talk was minimal. I distracted him with questions about his job and how he’d been since our morning together. It worked, at least until he said, “Great, until you ran out of my house like your building was on fire. What happened? And come to think of it, you never did tell me what kind of business you own.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I squeezed his hand and felt the numbness of dread slinking out of my stomach and down into my legs. I didn’t want to tell him. God, I didn’t want to tell him at all, but if things were going to happen between us, he needed to hear the truth. If a relationship were to happen, then it needed to start with a foundation of trust and truth, not lies and deceit.

  I needed him to know how thankful I was that he’d come into my life before I lost the chance to tell him.

  “What is it?” he said, crinkling his forehead. He was gorgeous even when he was perplexed. I nearly changed my mind. What if I told him and he ran? I’d never get to stare into those mesmerizing baby blues again.

  The truth, Kim, I thought. Just get it out there. He’ll understand…maybe.

  “I’m not who you think I am.” I nibbled on the inside of my lip, waiting on him to respond, as if that explained things. Apparently, it didn’t.

  “Oh, I see.” He tilted his head back, nodding, then shook it. “No, I don’t. My turn…so you’re wanted by the FBI, CIA, and the men in black?”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “Then tell me.”

  I sighed, pulled away from him, and took a sip of my coffee because my mouth had instantly gone dry. Strong, black, scraped off the bottom of the carafe. Perfect. I couldn’t help but think that it might be the last cup of coffee I’d get to enjoy. “When you met me in the café the first time, honest to God truth, I’d just gotten laid off like thirty minutes before.”

  “I remember.”

  Another sip of coffee. Why did my tongue feel like a dried up sponge? “You know, Finn, honestly I could go on and on about what’s happened to me since that day, but most of it is pretty insane, and I’m scared that if I tell you, you’ll get up and walk out the door and I’ll never see you again.”

  He gave a disjointed laugh that was part disbelief, part discomfort. “What? No way. I didn’t make all those trips to the café for nothing. Whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t surprise me.” When I opened my mouth and hesitated, he added, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  “Uh, yeah, it can.”

  Finn let go of my hands. I hoped it wasn’t an omen. He leaned back and crossed his arms. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  “God, no. But…” I hesitated again, took another swig of coffee, and then glanced out the window. The rain pounded on the glass. Cars swam by on the flooded streets. A stoplight changed from green, to yellow, to red.

  It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, yet it felt like hours of silence. “I’m not married, but…I have a son. His name is Joey, and he’s almost two years old. His father’s not in the picture and doesn’t want to be, but Joey, he’s my world, you know? Everything I’ve done, and God, it sounds horrible hearing it out loud, everything I’ve done was for him, so he could have a good life. I’m so, so sorry, for not telling you about him the day we first met, but being a young, single mom is such a huge red flag for a lot of guys and I wanted you to know me before you had a chance to judge the situation. Does that make sense?”

  Finn smiled that amazing smile and huffed. “Are you kidding? That’s it? That’s what you were worried about? Kim, I know it goes against the whole single dude stereotype…but I love kids. Love kids. I babysit my sister’s two boys all the time. My ex brother-in-law, this guy Teddy, he’s this massive dickwad that got caught poking his secretary. Ran off with her and left Emily with nothing. Nothing. So I help out every chance I get. That whole single mom thing is rough. I realize you didn’t know me well enough, but you could’ve at least given me a chance, right?”

  Could I have fallen for him any harder in that moment? I wanted to grab his hand, run out to the car, and whisk him away. I’d introduce him to Joey and we’d disappear somewhere, thousands of miles from here, away from Dreama, away from Roman, away from the life I’d been living.

  Instead, I nodded and apologized, told him I was sorry for judging without giving him an opportunity. Then I steeled myself for the awful truth that had to come next.

  “That’s not all,” I said. Again, I nibbled on my bottom lip. I couldn’t remember when I’d picked up the habit, but it was recent, and the skin had grown raw. I’d emptied the coffee mug, and rather than
being able to hide behind it, I squeezed my hands tightly around the white ceramic.

  “There’s more?”

  “Promise you’ll hear me out before you make any decisions, okay?”

  “I promise, but the past is the past. If you don’t want to tell me, don’t. We’ll move forward from this point on,” he said, tapping the table. “Right here, today. New start, new beginning. Your past doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Yeah, I think it will.” I could feel the river of tears pushing hard against the dam. “I want you in my life, and God, I’m so thankful that you found me again. So thankful, but I have to tell you this stuff. I have to get it off my chest because I’m not proud of it and you deserve to know.”

  He relented. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  The waitress stopped by, took our orders—pancakes for me, a western omelette for him—and poured us another cup of steaming hot blackness, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts and ready myself for Finn’s imminent departure.

  This is it, I thought. Get ready to watch him walk out that door.

  I said, “I was—I was—I didn’t expect it to be this hard.” My lip trembled. I was scared to say it. I had to, though. I had to tell him. I could’ve taken his offer for a clean slate, to pretend that the past never happened, but not with Roman still hell bent on revenge. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to Finn. He had a right to know that his safety might be in jeopardy. “Okay, here goes. I was desperate, Finn. Stupid. I let pride get in the way because I could’ve gotten help from so many different places. Instead… The reasons matter, but they don’t change the fact that I made some bad decisions—whatever, forget it—the truth is, I couldn’t get a job, I was worried we’d get kicked out of our apartment, and I made a choice I now regret because of the money. I—I worked for an escort service for a while.”

  There. I’d said it. The truth was out there, floating between us like a small, dark cloud.

  Finn remained silent. Staring at me. I watched his jaw muscles clench and unclench. My body felt hot. Stripping everything off wouldn’t have been enough.

  I burned on the inside.

  “Finn? Say something.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I believe in coincidences, even though I approach life with a logical outlook. There are too many things that happen throughout life that you can’t explain, no matter how much rationality you try to apply to it. You think about a friend you haven’t seen in years and then, that afternoon, you run into her in the grocery store. A random song pops into your head and when you start the car, it’s playing on the radio. Stuff like that. You accept it, you give it a shrug of your shoulders, and then you move on. It was neat for a moment, then life resumes.

  Was it a coincidence that it stopped raining the second Finn opened his mouth to speak? Maybe. Was it a sign? Possibly. It was almost as if Mother Nature had reached over and flipped a switch. It was on, then it was off. I can’t explain how it happened any more than I can explain the theory of relativity. Rain on. Rain off. Sunshine peeked out from between the remaining dark clouds.

  Yeah, it was a sign. A welcome connection. New life. New hope. New possibilities.

  Finn said, “You did what you had to do, and I don’t blame you for that. I mean, I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable with the idea of you selling yourself. It is what it is, you know? When you really break it down, we don’t know each other that well, yet I feel like I’ve known you forever and I trust your sense of judgment. It was…it was life. Shit happens, life happens.”

  I was so stunned that he hadn’t walked away that I hadn’t thought of what I’d say next. Embarrassed, and I’m sure my face was as red as our table top, I asked, “Can you forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive you for. You did what you thought you had to do. It’s weird. I can’t really wrap my words around what I’m trying to say—I understand the necessity. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. What matters is that your heart was in the right place. I probably would’ve done it differently, but I—I can’t fault you for it either. Not when you meant well.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand again. That small measure of reassurance meant more than he would ever know.

  I said, “If it matters, I never slept with anyone.”

  “You didn’t? Then how were you an escort?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “No, but now you have to tell me.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “That’s how it works. You can’t dangle the carrot and leave me hanging.”

  “Don’t judge.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “If you only knew what goes on behind closed doors.” I spared him some of the more explicit details. He listened intently, first with curiosity, then doubt.

  Without being judgmental myself, and trying to explain that my clients were people with needs that weren’t the norm, I shared some of the more fantastical stories. I could’ve kept them to myself, and maybe I should’ve, but what I wanted him to hear was that my body, the body that would be Finn’s domain from now on, was untarnished. I’d fulfilled their needs in other ways. I was clean. Slightly jaded, perhaps, but undamaged, unblemished.

  Our food arrived as I finished telling the last story—the one about the CEO from a major biomedical research company that loved being tied to the bed and forced to watch old black and white movies by a dominant mistress. It was the only way he was able to climax.

  “You’re making that up,” Finn said, digging into his omelette. “I mean, right?”

  The pancakes were glorious. I felt comfortable enough with him to be rude and speak with my mouth full. “Nope, absolutely true. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen.”

  “And done.”

  “And done, yeah.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.” He raised his eyebrows, lifted his shoulders to his ears, and let them drop. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

  “There’s more.” I dreaded the thought of having to go through the whole process of revealing the truth, yet again, but it’s hard to stop a runaway train.

  Finn coughed and choked on a bite of omelette. Tapping his chest, he swallowed, laughed in disbelief and said, “What? More? More? How can there possibly be more? Jesus, a guy can’t let a girl out of his sight for twelve months without all hell breaking loose.”

  “First,” I said, “thank you for taking this so well. I didn’t expect it, not at all, and I want you to understand that it means more to me than I’ll probably ever be able to explain.”

  “You’re welcome, but Kim, seriously, we’re good. Let’s just get this over with before this meal kills me.”

  “I made one point five million in three months, and instead of doing something smart with it, I started my own escort service. That’s the kind of business I run now.”

  “Oh my God, you’re a madam?”

  “Something along those lines.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “What am I supposed to say to that?” He wasn’t angry. “Flabbergasted” is probably the most appropriate word. “I thought you wanted to be done with it? Why would you jump right back in like that?”

  “How much time do you have left on your lunch break? It’s another long story.”

  “For this, I can be late.”

  The only thing I left out was the details about the sex with Roman. I told Finn it happened, and I told him the reason I was in my current situation was to get my petty revenge for a broken heart, just so there would be no stones left unturned.

  I told him about allowing Michelle to blow almost all of my money. Three of my escorts in the hospital. Fearing for my life. My meeting with Harris that morning, but not all of the details of our plan. I realized I was going back on my word about the foundation of truth—if I told Finn everything, he wouldn’t be able to run fast enough.

  When I could think of nothin
g else important, I said, “That’s it. Here I am.”

  “Remind me to never piss you off,” Finn said, downing the last bite of his meal. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Follow Harris’s lead, I guess. Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all of this is because—well, because his plan, it’s not the safest and I wanted to see you in case anything happened. I could’ve left it alone and not told you, but I didn’t want to put you in danger either. It’s my problem to deal with.”

  “When’s the plan going down?”

  “You sound like you stepped out of a crime fiction novel.”

  “I’m serious, Kim. When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “I have to be in Boston tomorrow, so this way, I get to come with you.”

  “Finn, no, absolutely not.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I lost you for over a year. I’m not losing you for good.”

  “But—”

  “You’re not changing my mind. I’ll handcuff myself to you if I have to.”

  My plan had almost worked. I’d told the truth, and he’d stayed, but I never expected him to be so stubborn about possibly risking his life for me. In a way, it was romantic, the stuff that box office bestsellers are made of, and I adored the idea of it, but it was also ridiculous and unwarranted.

  “And besides,” he added, “what’ll happen to Joey if anything happens to you, huh? I can’t sit here and let you do this on your own. God forbid, if something went wrong and this Harris guy messed up, I’d never forgive myself knowing that I could’ve been there for you. You made the bed, Kim, now we’re both gonna lie in it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Never been more positive.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Calling the office.”

  “Why?”

  Finn winked and patted his stomach. “Bad omelette.”

  ***

  We went back to my apartment. I told him to ignore the complete and total state of disarray that it would be in, then got a pleasant surprise when we walked through the front door, only to find that Gertie had cleaned. After I’d made the introductions and Finn sat on the floor with Joey, stacking some blocks, I thanked her for picking the place up, telling her that it hadn’t been necessary.