"Kelsey was right about you being smart," Vanessa says, "but I think being this much fun is an added bonus."
"It’s easy to talk to her. And to you. Is there a reason for that?" I ask as the waiter refills my glass. My feet brush against hers under the water, and neither of us makes a move to pull away.
"The three of us have money, and none of us put it first." I wonder what she means by "the three of us," since she was introduced to me as an assistant. Then again, nothing involving Kelsey is ever simple. "Maybe that’s why she’s so enchanted. You wouldn't care if she gave you a gift card for a newsstand or a diamond necklace."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, you can go out and buy your own diamonds if you want. Even though you haven't talked much yet, she finds you intriguing."
"I feel like there’s a 'but' coming in this story."
"Of course there is." She smiles and orders something from the waiter in a voice too low for me to catch. "Kelsey isn't monogamous. She never has been. People struggle with that. It would be easier, of course, if she just got married and lived a lifeof appearances, but she won't accept that. I’ve even suggested she just marry whichever woman she’s with at the time."
"It would be easier," I agree. "A solid contract, a few staged smiles, and fewer headaches."
"Maybe. Maybe not. You were just telling me about your ex-husband not accepting a 'decorative' role. You never really know what the other person wants."
I shrug, the sparkling wine cooling my throat.
"I don’t completely believe in monogamy either. My parents were married for appearances, and it was a disaster. I married a man who seemed like a good husband but did some very shady things in my name."
"So you understand her well." The silence that follows is brief, easily broken by her. "And look, Kelsey isn't exactly a saint when it comes to business, but who is?"
I nod in agreement. We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about travel and trivialities. I really hope I’m not just starting to like Vanessa because I’d almost prefer it if she were a bitch.
I really hope so.
#13
"É cada coisa que eu faço que você nem sabe. Sei que eu vou tacar fogo na pista antes que a noite acabe" - Luisa Sonza
Ihead back to my room, sink onto the bed, and pull up my laptop. I spend the next several hours reviewing old case files, mentally cataloging obscure legal precedents. It’s a way to ground myself as the night and the following day pass in a blur of focus.
An email arrives, written in Italian. Usually, these are dispatches from the organization I was associated with back in Wilmington. Contrary to popular belief, being a member of a "family" or a mafia organization is essentially living under an unconventional employment contract.
My job was straightforward: advance their interests and ensure they weren't brought down by minor infractions like money laundering or tax evasion. The main difference from a corporatejob is the isolation. I never knew who the other associates were because the relationship is built on extreme confidentiality.
This email is brief, a simple thank you for services rendered on behalf of "the population." Nothing more. There is no penalty for terminating a contract as long as you refer a capable replacement and leave no loose ends. I made sure of both. I had no interest in lingering specifically because I was genuinely afraid of dying.
I spin around in my chair, my mind shifting. I am determined to get to know Kelsey Calama. I might be making a mistake, but I’m choosing to take the risk. I layer up for the cold, wondering how Sarki thinks anyone could manage to have sex while wearing two pairs of pants and three sweaters.
I pull on my gloves and hat before heading through the hotel’s revolving doors. The biting wind is a clear sign that snow is imminent. I turn on my heel and spot Vanessa leaning against a car, waiting for me. She’s holding a thermal cup.
"Eggnog[1]?" she asks, holding it out. I accept it gratefully. The rum-based warmth reminds me of Christmas with my family, though my father always used whiskey. A lot of whiskey.
"I didn't even know I needed this," I say, winking. She walks with me across the street, maintaining a professional distance. We reach the edge of Central Park, and to any observer, we’re just two women out for a stroll. It would be paranoid to think anyone was hunting for a scoop at this hour.
"Sometimes we only realize we need a drink when someone offers it," Vanessa says as we reach the gate. It opens slightly. "She’s waiting for you on bow bridge."
"Thanks for the drink."
"You look beautiful. Have fun."
I walk through the gate, the silence of the empty park bringing to mind every crime thriller set in New York. It’s dark, but I’m thankful the city keeps the lights on. I follow the path for ten minutes until I see her. Kelsey is a silhouette in a black coat, dress pants, and sneakers.
As I step onto the bridge, she turns and smiles. She’s holding a bouquet of white peonies. I’m not usually a flower person, but the gesture feels delicate, intentional.
"Do you always do this?" I ask, taking the bouquet. She kisses my cheek, and we start to walk.
