Corey made a face. “Is that your apology? I don’t want to do this bullshit! I’m not going to Japan either!” He looked around, incredulous and petulant, waiting for someone else to be offended on his behalf.
Keith shook his head. “You can just walk away. I can’t. You don’t understand.”
Corey came close so that no one else could hear them. Keith could sense Shawn hovering somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t see him. Corey’s breath was hot in his ear. “That was always your problem, Keith. You don’t have to do what he tells you, you know that? You’re fucking fifty years old. You don’t have to do shit.” Corey leaned back and yanked on his lapels, smoothing out his suit. There was dried blood on his hand.
“Go!” Sarah said. “Before I hit you too.”
Corey sucked his teeth and turned toward the door.
“Shawn,” Sarah said. “You too. It’s in the contract. I need you up there. Just fix it. Tell them whatever you want to tell them. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Keith looked at his brother. Shawn wasn’t used to being told what to do. Keith could see him start to argue with her but change his mind. He shook his head, came up behind Keith, and lay his head on Keith’s back for a moment, which made Keith’s body begin to vibrate again, like he might actually explode. Shawn took a step back, and followed Corey without a word. The problem wasn’t Corey. It never had been. The problem had always been Shawn. Keith wondered if it would have been different if Corey were Shawn’s brother. Maybe Shawn wouldn’t have taken Keith for granted if his subservience weren’t built in. There was no way to know. That was the problem with life—you just had to live with whatever cards you’d been dealt and learn to accept them for what they were.
It was just the three of them left: Keith, Sarah, and the woman. “So, you don’t have a place to go, correct?” Sarah asked her. “What’s your name?”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. “My roommate, I mean. But no. I guess the answer is no.” She paused and smiled. “My name isn’t No. It’s Annie.”
Sarah’s head rocked from side to side like a metronome. “Hmm,” she said. “Well, she’s going to be locked in your room. They won’t take her to the brig for that. Let me think.”
The next thing that came out of Keith’s mouth surprised him, until he heard it out loud, and it all made sense. “She can come with me to the Sanctuary,” Keith said. The anger and adrenaline ebbed, and his body flooded with something else, something like relief.
“And how do we know she’s safe with you?” Sarah asked.
Keith clutched his stomach, overflowing again with shame. Sarah put her hand on his arm and squeezed.
“I’m just kidding,” she said. “I think that’s a good idea.”
43
Sunday, 9:40 p.m.
Deck 7
They didn’t speak in the elevator, or as they passed through the guarded door, but Annie was aware of Keith’s body with every step they took. He had taken off his tuxedo jacket, exposing a ruffled yellow shirt with big damp patches. Annie could smell his sweat, a fact she wasn’t proud of noticing. She caught his eye once and then again, and each time it felt like getting a tiny electric shock. No one spoke until they were in a room lined with Georgia O’Keeffe reproductions, with a small wading pool at the center. The young woman with the walkie-talkie was holding a cell phone in each hand, and her shoulder kept emitting a static noise, a walkie-talkie’s clearest cry for help.
“There’s an extra stateroom here in the Sanctuary. I will be back to check on you after I do some damage control. I’m Sarah.” She stuck out her hand, and Annie shook it. “Annie, right?”
Annie nodded. The world-building rules of the last few days had vanished. She was too close to Keith to think about anything else. It felt like she had crossed through an invisible fourth wall, the barrier that had kept everything in place up until now.
Sarah turned to Keith, her voice low. “And you’re sure? This is okay?You can always just go back to your room. You don’t have to babysit. I should make you go back up there, but I just am not going to, because fuck them—excuse my French.”
He collapsed onto a couch, his body falling hard onto the squeaky faux leather cushions. “I agree.”
“Okay. Annie, Keith. Keith, Annie. Keith, keep it cool, okay, Rocky?”
He placed a hand on his heart, which was all Sarah seemed to need. The door shut behind her with a heavyclunk, and then they were alone. The couch was long, and Annie perched on the opposite end of it, staying as still and upright as possible.
“Hi,” Annie said.
“Hey,” Keith said.
“So then, not really okay at all, huh?” Annie asked.
Keith laughed, a shallow sound. “I guess not.”
She could feel her heart beating. He had shaved; the stubble was gone. It was bad, whatever she had just witnessed, and Annie wished that she could put away the part of herself that noticed his face.
Katherine had been right to love this face so much for so long. Corey was the easiest face to appreciate, maybe, with its angles and planes, but Keith’s face—well, Annie just really liked Keith’s face. Annie almost laughed at herself for having not properly appreciated him before. She closed her eyes for a minute to try to pay attention without getting sucked backward through time. She didn’t want to think about the sing-along songs, the posters on the wall. That was someone else. This was just a man, a man she liked. At least, she thought so. He was still in his costume. Maybe it was better to think about it that way—he was in costume but offstage. He wasn’t going to burst into song, not until the next act.
