“Admirable.”
“Not admirable. Necessary. Life’s too short to spend it at odds with someone.”
She turned off the lights in her office and closed the door. She waved at AJ as she and Vilma headed for the exit.
“How did it feel to be back?” Vilma asked.
Brooklyn thought for a moment. After the initial shock had worn off, her comfort level had grown by the minute. Seeing AJ made her long to touch base with the rest of her employees as well. She had seen most of them over the past few days, but she had felt out of place conversing with them at a wake or in a cemetery. Tomorrow, she would be able to see them in their normal environs.
Monday was bound to be hard since it would be their first work day without Charlie in their midst, but with the emotions of the past week behind them, it would be easier to pick up where they had left off.
“Thomas Wolfe was wrong,” she said. “You can go home again.” She squeezed Vilma’s hand as they waited for the elevator to arrive. “Thank you for this. Thank you for today.”
“Don’t thank me yet. The day’s not over. We’re just getting started.”
* * *
Santana felt a flicker of jealousy when Brooklyn touched AJ’s arm. Brooklyn’s gesture hadn’t caused the reaction. It was the obvious pleasure AJ had derived from Brooklyn’s touch. Brooklyn might not have noticed, but AJ had either a crush, a healthy case of hero worship, or both. If she and AJ crossed paths again, it would take a concerted effort for Santana to view her objectively rather than as competition.
When was the last time she’d had to compete for a woman’s attention? Try never. She preferred her relationships to remain uncomplicated so she could walk away from them at any time with no drama and no hurt feelings. Having a rival for Brooklyn’s affections might be an interesting new wrinkle, but it was a complication she didn’t need. Another in a growing string of them.
The fallout from Charlotte Evans’s death was supposed to be someone else’s problem, not hers. Yet here she was smack in the middle of a situation that felt like it was starting to spin out of control. She was finally getting a taste of what it felt like to embark on an actual relationship, and she had never been happier—or more frightened. If Winslow found out how much Brooklyn was starting to mean to her, he wouldn’t hesitate to use Brooklyn to keep her in check. In his mind, love was something meant to be exploited, not shared. Even though she wanted to spend more time with Brooklyn, she would rather walk away than see her hurt.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Brooklyn said as a car took them out of town. “Is something troubling you?”
Santana shifted in her seat so she could look Brooklyn in the eye. “I’m wondering if I might have oversold what I have planned for us. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
Unlike most of the things she had told Brooklyn since they’d met, this one was true. She cared what Brooklyn thought. Both in general and about her. Talk about interesting new wrinkles.
“If you think I might be bored, think again,” Brooklyn said. “I could probably watch paint dry with you and find it fascinating. Based on the address you gave the driver, I assume we won’t be doing anything quite that sedate.”
They were headed to an upscale shopping center just outside Yonkers. The expansive space featured dozens of high-end retail stores and nearly as many upscale restaurants. It also contained one of the few permanent indoor skydiving facilities in the state. The nearly hundred-foot-tall wind tunnel allowed participants to turn their dreams of flying into reality.
“Have you been to Flyght Zone before?” Santana asked.
“I’ve considered taking my staff there several times, but I’ve never followed through.”
“Because?”
“Though it could provide the perfect venue for a team-building exercise, the chance of someone getting hurt offsets the potential upside. Nothing ruins a good time faster than a few broken bones.”
“Now you tell me.”
“Is it one of your favorite hangouts?”
“I try to visit whenever I’m in town. When I’m working, I like to remain as calm as possible. When I’m not, I have to do something to blow off the pent-up energy.”
“And indoor skydiving is your method of choice?”
“Of the options that require me to be fully clothed, yes.”
Brooklyn’s inscrutable expression didn’t reveal what she was thinking, but her eyes were a dead giveaway. The look in them was challenging, practically daring Santana to ask the driver to turn the car around and take them back to her apartment.
“I hadn’t pictured you as an adrenaline junkie,” Brooklyn said before Santana could take the bait.
“What had you pictured me as?”
Brooklyn furrowed her brow as she pondered the question. She probably adopted the same pensive look whenever she was trying to figure out a particularly difficult piece of computer code or resolve a personnel issue. She was such an enticing combination of beauty and intelligence. Santana longed to watch her work, but she doubted any marketing geniuses had created an event called Take a Contract Killer to Work Day. If so, she was ready to sign up.
“I’m not quite sure,” Brooklyn finally confessed. “I can’t get a handle on you. In Tokyo, you reminded me of James Bond. Elegant, refined, and able to emerge from a full-scale battle royal without so much as a hair out of place. You’re not a spy, are you?”
Santana laughed to hide her shock at how close Brooklyn had come to the truth. She had received nearly as much training as Ian Fleming’s fictional spy. Weapons training, language lessons, hand-to-hand combat. Winslow had spared no expense as he slowly but surely turned her into someone she almost didn’t recognize.
“If I were,” she said, “I would sound much, much wittier, and my paramours would all sport sexualized names befitting of a Bond girl. By my reckoning, I fall short of the mark.”
“I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree because by my reckoning, you’re right on target.”
“You flatter me.”
“And you intrigue me.” Santana tried to break eye contact, but Brooklyn’s penetrating gaze held her fast. “I want to know all about you, but I don’t want to bombard you with all my questions at once. I suppose I should start with the most important one.”
“Which is?”
“Are you single?”
Santana couldn’t help but laugh. At herself for expecting the worst. And at Brooklyn for offering such a refreshing change of pace. None of the other women she had been with had bothered to ask if she was involved with someone else or not. All they had cared about was how much pleasure they could derive from each other. Brooklyn was different. And thoroughly intoxicating.
“I had expected a more existential query.”
Brooklyn shrugged. “In my mind, the practical approach is often the best approach. It allows me to cut through both red tape and BS with the least amount of effort.”
“That’s a good strategy. No wonder you’re such a successful businesswoman.”
“Thank you for the compliment, but you haven’t answered my question.”
Realizing Brooklyn wouldn’t allow herself to be as easily dissuaded today as she had in Tokyo, Santana relented. “Yes, I’m single. I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s your next question?”
“I detect a slight accent, but I can’t tell what kind. What is its place of origin? That tiny speck of land in the middle of the Pacific you mentioned before, or somewhere else?”
“I like to say I’m a citizen of the world—my main residence is in ’Ohe Sojukokoro and I have a place here in New York—but if we’re being specific, I was born in the Philippines. I left when I was a teenager, but I’ve never been able to completely shake the accent.”
“Is that where your parents were born?”
“My mother’s Filipino. My father’s American. They met while he was stationed on the air force base in Manila.”
“They must be so proud of your accomplishments.”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen either of them in years. Mixed marriages don’t go over well in the Philippines, especially when one of the principals is already married to someone else. My mother and I had a falling out when I was too young to realize I didn’t know as much about the world as I thought I did, and I haven’t seen my father since he left to return to his ‘real’ family in the States.”
Brooklyn’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I apologize if I brought up unpleasant memories.”
“No need. My family situation is unfortunate, but it is what it is.”
Thankfully, Brooklyn didn’t try to convince her that she and her parents could eventually work things out. Winslow hadn’t included parents or family members in any of her aliases’ official biographies in order to keep her true identity a secret. The less information someone snooping around her personal life had to sift through, the better.
Her father had left a wife and two children at home while he was stationed at Clark Air Base. He might have produced more after he returned to the States, but she hadn’t bothered to check. Not like she had much to go on. The only thing she knew about his life here in America was he was from West Virginia.
She was curious to know if she and her siblings shared some of the same personality traits or had a family resemblance, though not curious enough to meet them face-to-face. A chapter had ended the day her father walked out on her and her mother. When she left home a few years later, she had closed the book for good.
Some stories weren’t worth revisiting while others only grew more satisfying upon multiple readings. She knew which category her backstory fit into. Time would tell how she would be able to categorize her future. And what role Brooklyn DiVincenzo would play in it.
Chapter Fourteen
After the driver dropped them off at Flyght Zone, Brooklyn followed Vilma inside so they could check in with the receptionist.
“It’s good to see you again, Ms. Bautista,” the receptionist said perkily. “I see you brought a guest this time.” She turned to Brooklyn. “I’m April. Welcome to Flyght Zone. Are you a willing participant, or did she drag you in here kicking and screaming?”
“That remains to be seen.”
The lobby walls were made of glass, allowing a clear view of the customers in the wind tunnel and the others anxiously waiting to take their turns. Brooklyn watched as a man wearing a helmet, safety goggles, and a bright red flight suit floated on a cushion of air while an instructor guided him through his paces. The man must have been a first-time visitor because he dropped like a rock as soon as the instructor released her grip on his leg and let him try to navigate on his own. The customers ringing the outside of the wind tunnel cheered after the instructor managed to catch him just before he would have hit the ground. The man looked embarrassed but none the worse for wear.
“Don’t be scared,” April said. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
“Let me give you the spiel.” April slid several forms across the desk. “This first form is a standard waiver of liability. Feel free to take your time and read it over, but it pretty much says you understand the risk you’ll be assuming by participating and agree not to sue us if something goes wrong.”
“That’s a pleasant way to start a conversation,” Brooklyn said as she began to read the two-page document.
“I know. Right? But once you get through the unpleasantness, we can get to the fun stuff.”
Vilma quickly signed the form and returned it. Brooklyn followed suit.
“Thank you.” April retrieved the forms and filed them away. “Since you haven’t been here before, Brooklyn, I’ll tell you how things work. After you leave the reception area, you’ll head to the locker room to change into your helmets, goggles, and flight suits.” She pointed at another form in the stack. “Fill this out to let me know what size you’ll need. Our uniforms are unisex, so keep that in mind when you make your selection.”
After Brooklyn placed a check mark in the box next to the appropriate size, April handed her a flight suit and a pair of goggles from the stash under the desk. Vilma’s information must have already been on file because April handed her a flight suit without asking her to complete a form first.
“Nicole is the instructor on duty today,” April said. “After you watch the other students and get a feel for the process, she’ll show you how to navigate the currents and move through the air. In other words, she’ll teach you how to fly.”
“I’ll keep the legend of Icarus in mind and try not to get too close to the sun.”
“Don’t worry,” Vilma said. “I’ll be there to catch you if you fall.”
Brooklyn couldn’t think of a better place to land.
“Flight sessions last between one and two hours,” April said. “You’ll complete the last form after your session is complete. It’s a survey that gives you an opportunity to provide feedback on your experience. Ratings are on a scale from one to five. One means you had a truly sucky time and five means you enjoyed yourself so much you can’t wait to come back with all your friends in tow.”
“What are you thinking?” Vilma asked as they headed to the locker room to change clothes.
Brooklyn was thinking how much Charlie would have loved doing something like this, but she didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up another woman while she was on a date. Instead, she held up the baggy flight suit April had given her.
“I was just thinking this isn’t my most flattering look.”
“If you’d prefer black tie instead, I’ll keep that in mind for our next date.”
“If I’m still talking to you after today’s date, I just might take you up on that.”
Vilma opened her assigned locker and began to undress. Though she longed to watch her, Brooklyn turned her back to give Vilma some privacy. She removed her borrowed clothes and slipped into the rented flight suit. When she strapped on her goggles and helmet, she felt like Tom Cruise in Top Gun, but the mental illusion was shattered as soon as she looked in the mirror. Her reflection made her seem more like the butt of a joke than the hero of an action film. Thankfully, Vilma didn’t appear to hold the same opinion. When Brooklyn turned to face her, the look Vilma gave her was searing.
For the first time, Brooklyn sensed a crack in Vilma’s heretofore impenetrable façade. She wanted to slip her fingers into the fissure and spread it wider. To feel Vilma open up to her. To go over the edge with her, then gather herself and make the journey again. If not today, then soon.
God, please let it be soon.
* * *
Santana watched Brooklyn take her turn in the wind tunnel with her heart in her throat. She wasn’t afraid Brooklyn would fall. Nicole was too good at her job to allow anything to happen to anyone in her charge. She was afraid she was starting to fall for Brooklyn.
Brooklyn had that look on her face again. The one that was a mixture of concentration and determination. After Nicole let go and allowed her to fly on her own, the look morphed into one of wonder, then accomplishment.
Santana applauded with the rest of the customers gathered outside the glass wind tunnel as Brooklyn gracefully floated through the air. Emboldened, Brooklyn tucked her arms and legs and turned a tentative somersault. She punched the air when she successfully completed the maneuver without losing altitude in the process.
Santana caught her eye and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Do I need to tell you I had an amazing time in there, or is it self-evident?” Brooklyn asked when she finally came back to earth.
One of a group of teenage boys who had been sitting in the waiting area with Santana during Brooklyn’s session gave her a high five. “Dude, you’re, like, made for this.”
“Yes, she is,” Santana said.
And, perhaps, she was also made for her.
Chapter Fifteen
When she left her office a few days ago, Brooklyn had felt as low
as she could possibly get. She returned to work the following Monday on a high. Even though her session at the indoor skydiving venue had ended several hours ago, she still felt like she was flying. The time she had spent with Vilma was just like that session—filled with the lows of embarrassing gaffes and the highs of unexpected breakthroughs.
Even though she and Vilma had been acquainted for only a few weeks, Brooklyn had said good-bye to her yesterday feeling as close to her as if they had been in each other’s lives for years. She couldn’t figure out if their bond was due to the unusual circumstances in which they had met, or the more depressing ones in which they had become reacquainted. Whatever the reason, she was looking forward to deepening their connection.
During the ride back to her apartment, Vilma had asked her to go out with her the following weekend. She had kept the details under wraps as Brooklyn had expected she would, but she did offer a tantalizing hint that black tie and tails might be involved. Brooklyn loved the way Vilma treated even a throwaway comment as a challenge meant not only to be met but exceeded. Now it was her turn to do the same.
Most of the staff was already at their desks when she arrived. She felt their eyes on her as soon as she walked through the door. The collective look they gave her was expectant. Like they were wondering what they were supposed to do next and were counting on her to lead them there.
“Good morning, everyone.” She faltered for a moment when she noticed several people had placed handwritten notes or mementoes on Charlie’s desk, but she forced herself to remain strong. “We’ve all had a hard week, but now it’s time for us to do our best work. Meet me in the conference room in fifteen minutes and bring your best ideas.”
The quiet was broken by the sound of people scurrying to locate their notes files or dream boards. She loved that sound. The sound of great minds at work.
Heart of a Killer Page 10