"Five years ago in Miami. Target was a real estate developer who thought he could skim money from Matteo's operation without anyone noticing."
"This is already a terrible story."
"I haven't gotten to the good part yet. We track this guy to a yacht party, big boat, lots of security, very fancy people drinking very expensive champagne."
"And?"
"And Rafe has this brilliant idea that we should pose as caterers to get close to the target."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. We get the uniforms, the trays of food, the whole setup. We're walking around serving champagne and these tiny sandwiches that cost so much."
Despite everything, despite the darkness and the cold, I smile.
"Everything's going fine at first. We're blending in perfectly, getting close to the target. Then Rafe drops an entire tray of caviar directly onto the target's girlfriend."
"He didn't."
"He did. All over her white designer dress that probably cost ten thousand dollars. Not to mention the cost of the damn caviar. She starts screaming bloody murder. Security comes running from every direction. We have to jump off the boat."
"In the caterer uniforms?"
"In the caterer uniforms, straight into Miami harbor in the middle of July. The water was absolutely disgusting."
I laugh, real and genuine this time, and my breathing slows and steadies.
"Did you get the target?"
"Three days later after we came up with a completely different plan. Had to rent our own boat. Rafe still won't eat caviar to this day."
Another laugh, softer this time.
I reach out in the dark and finally find the soap, find the wall, ground myself in the physical reality of where I am.
It is still dark but doesn't matter as much now. The darkness doesn't press in quite as hard.
I focus on his voice, on the ridiculous story, on the fact that he's right there on the other side of the door keeping me safe.
I wash quickly and rinse off, turning off the water with fumbling hands.
"You still there?"
"Still here."
"Okay. Good."
I reach for where the towel should be hanging and feel nothing but air.
"Enzo?"
"Yeah."
"I don't have a towel."
Silence. Then: "There should be one on the rack."
"I can't find it. It's too dark."
