He stood from our table and stepped into line again. I was somewhat offended and also thankful. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. It was probably safer for the both of us if we didn’t get in too deep with this—especially with each other.
I’d finished off my pretzel and drink by the time he sat across from me again. He slid me another carbonated water and then took a drink from his new beer.
“I think it was too coincidental for the both of you to go flying out of the window, especially since my brother had glass rammed into his chest and not in his head. I think one of those psychopaths you work for killed him because of you.”
The drink stilled at my lips, and my eyes rose to meet his.
“I might not be as involved as my brother was,” he said, setting his glass down. “But I know what goes on beyond those gates. I know who my father deals with to get what he wants. He deals with devils. My brother did too. This time, my brother paid a high price for what he wanted, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered. I really didn’t. I was as confused by this as he was.
No. Maybe he had a better grasp on the situation than I did, but I knew more about what went on behind the gates than he ever would, even if he thought he knew. His brother wouldn’t have been killed for being with me. It had probably been arranged, which made this entire situation so strange.
“That’s probably for the best.” He sighed. Then he watched me for another minute before he leaned forward, closer to me. “I didn’t ask you here today to discuss things that can’t be changed. I honestly want to get to know you. So how about we have some fun and save the serious discussions for another time?”
Cilla’s words of wisdom came to me, and I nodded, agreeing. Not really because this was my scene, but because I could tell he was being honest. He wasn’t going to talk anymore. He gave me his theory, and that was that.
For the next few hours, though, in between rides and more eating, he did talk about Richie more.
What saddened me the most was that it didn’t seem like Richie and I had anything in common. I wasn’t sure if Ben and I had anything in common, either, because he and Richie seemed to be a lot alike. If anything, the more he talked, the more shattered my life felt. There was nothing there that connected me to his brother, or him, and from what he said, his brother had fallen in love with me.
I also considered the other side of it. If I wasn’t in love with Richie, and we had nothing in common, how would my life have turned out if the marriage had been arranged?
From our conversation, it seemed like I would have been the trophy wife of a politician, but one with a past that probably excited him. I’d served some of the most dangerous men in the world and lived to talk about it.
Had I loved Richie, though? Did the accident steal that away from me too? I’d never know, which made me feel tired, but the weighty feeling was not exactly physical. It came from a place deeper inside.
If Ben noticed my mood, he didn’t comment on it. I was skilled at keeping my face neutral, even friendly, even when I was dying on the inside. It was part of my job. I was a pro at keeping secrets and equipped to take them to the grave. Even mine.
Minutes seemed to pass, and I was aware of each one, which was not doing what Cilla said. Letting go and having fun. Shouldn’t time pass without me noticing every second that ticked between us? I had too much on my mind, and all those missing pieces were glaring at me.
“Hey,” he nudged me. “Can I ask you something?” Before I could respond, he touched the back of my neck, where I had an odd-shaped scar there. “How did you get this?”
Instinctively, I touched it, feeling the gouge that marred my skin. “Don’t remember,” I said. “I don’t think it was from the accident, though, but I can’t be sure. I have a ton of scars.”
He nodded. “You want to do anything else before the show starts?”
“Food,” I said. “I’m still hungry.”
A slow smile came to his face. “You have a healthy appetite.”
“Always have,” I said. “And we must have walked miles today. I earned it.”
We grabbed more food and then made our way to the center stage. The entire crowed seemed to consolidate, and we were packed in tight. Things became even more chaotic when the stage came alive with lights. They danced in time with the 90s techno music as orange and red smoke started to color the air. Every so often something liquid and cool would fly and hit me. The body paint.
Ben looked down at me as he moved in time to the music. “You’re glowing!” he screamed.
“So are you!” I screamed back, and for the first time all day, my smile was genuine. “How old are you anyway?”
He leaned in closer to my ear. “Forty. You?”
“Twenty-three,” I said into his ear as he bent down to give it to me.
“You don’t act your age. That’s why I invited you here. Thought it would loosen you up a bit.”
In all truth, it wasn’t the most horrible experience of my life, but I wasn’t sure if it was something I’d do again. It just didn’t feel like me. Whoever she was. After the accident, I was finding that I was still looking for her. Maybe that was why I searched so hard. I loved whoever she was. She was…me.
His words echoed inside of my head, louder than the music, after they truly penetrated my thoughts. How would he know how I acted? Or who I was? Had Richie told him something about me that made him assume I was rigid?
