“What have you got?”
The young man from a local barber shop sits before me. He’s just one set of eyes and ears I have around the city. “Not much. He came for a trim. Seemed anxious about some kind of date with a girl named Kendall,” he informs me.
“Cindel!” I correct, already irritated he’s getting shit wrong.
“Right!” He tries to pacify me with a shy smile. “Said something about his father being here… said he’s going to fuck things up.”
Wait, his father? “Are you telling me Patrick Murray is back in the states?”
The kid’s eyes are downcast before looking back up to me, this time with conviction. “Yes! I remember he said; My father is back in town, and this girl means everything.”
Fuck. Now I have two Murrays on my radar. From what I understand, the other sibling isn’t involved in anything having todo with the family business. “Anything else?!” I press, irritated that I need to make more arrangements when I’m already stretched thin.
“No, ma’am.”
Ugh, ma’am. I’m not that old. “Fine. I’d like you to hand out some business cards for your shop on their side of town. Keep your ear to the ground. If anyone gets chatty about anything involving the Murrays, be sure to let me know.”
He nods. Right. On to stop number two. Without so much as a thanks, I drop a small roll of hundreds on the table for the kid to continue being my little snoop and head out.
I walk all the way to Park Street, before getting on the Green Line to head out to Boston College. I had a source who wanted to speak in person. I find myself reflecting on everything Cindel has been through. All she’s faced, all she’s lost. I know she struggles. She’s terrible at hiding things, especially her feelings. If I continuously insist, she doesn’t see Eamon, I know it’s going to make her want to be with him more. She’s also incredibly stubborn… and ridiculously naive. No fault of her own. Cindel has been kept in the dark about everything. Why can’t she just listen when I try to warn her? I mean, look at that block head Brodi. I tried convincing her time and time again that he was no good, but did she listen?! No… seriously, I question why she stayed with him so long. I’m the one who told her parents about him in the first place.
Terri was in the car before I even hung up the phone. Cindel was very surprised to see her mom show up unannounced for a visit. After a long conversation, her mom returned to New York. I think Cindel was able to placate everyone, insisting she found happiness with the grease monkey. Although, I had a feeling she was trying to regain some kind of control over her life. Her choices. Cindel convinced herself she was content, but really, I believe she was settling. He was a cheating piece of shit, and Ishould have dealt with him myself, but I don’t think I could have lived with that. Little did I know he would just up and vanish one day. Maybe it was the tiny buddha I found on the subway that week. Like a good luck charm, Brodi was, poof… gone!
I was introduced to Cindel in our first semester of college. She had this magnetic personality. Everyone adored her. She dreamt big and wanted nothing more than to create art and enjoy her life with the people she cared about. I believe in karma, but I still don’t understand why good people are robbed of a full life, while the scum of the earth are resilient as a cockroach riding a twinkie into the apocalypse. It’s been three years since her brother died. I’ve tried my best to lift her up, but it was actually Brodi who helped her smile again. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it. Over time, Cindel started changing. Whether she was still working through the loss of Theo or something about her relationship with Brodi, she just wasn’t the same. She jumped from job to job, sometimes working multiple positions at the same time, but she never put her fashion degree to good use. Could it be that control thing again? Maybe. Perhaps she figured if she didn’t take chances, she wouldn’t be disappointed. Brodi disappearing was the best thing that could have happened to her. Familiar with characters like him, he’s probably stolen enough money to move off grid and start that new life he always told Cindel about. Thank fuck, because I was days away from putting a small slit on the brake line of his Harley.
I manage to grab a seat on the subway, positioning myself to watch the scrolling text until Boston College is displayed. I have a connection there, someone who has knowledge beyond my reach. I hoped they could shed some light on my current situation. I had to know what Eamon’s intentions were with Cindel. If I wanted to stay one step ahead of the Murrays, I needed to go back further.
The name of my stop rolls across the screen. I stand with my shoulder bag and step onto the platform. After about a two-minute walk I’m on the college campus, right on time. I find the bench before the woven patinated fountain and take a seat. Chilly moments pass before a thin framed, older woman stands before me. Her thick red glasses are a stark contrast to her pale blue blazer and pencil skirt. She stretches out her freckled hand, offering one of the hot, to-go cups in her hand.
“Nice to finally meet you in person, Andrea,” she greets with a mousy voice.
Taking the warm offering from her, I stand from the bench. “Hello, Mrs. Kent.”
She gives a tight-lipped smile, with a downcast glance and a nod. “Miss. Divorced, some years ago… please call me Moyra.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
CINDEL
Yesterday’s shift at The Black Sheep was perfectly tedious. No bar fights, no injuries, no unexpected deaths, and no drama. Connor worked the back and Eamon dropped by to have a drink. His buddies weren’t with him for once, which was kind of nice. I’d like to think that Eamon was more open with me when they weren’t around. Probably just a guy thing, can’t lose face with his bros! He asked more about Thelma and if I’d ever been to “Spooky Flicks,” at the local theater. When I told him, I loved going when I was younger with my brother; it was settled before he even asked if I’d like to go. We were going to seeThe Lost Boysnext week. Obviously, he knew my schedule, being the boss and all, so I figured he’d just pick a day, I didn’t work. I mean, what else did I have to do besides watch reruns ofThe Sopranos? I haven’t been to the theater in a while. It holds so many special memories for me, I was a little anxious but also excited to revisit.
On my walk home, I had that unsettling feeling again… was I being followed? Everyone on the same side of the street as me probably thought I was crazy; due to the fact I kept spinningaround every couple steps. My erratic behavior even caused one couple to cross over to the other side of the street. Even though I never saw anyone lurking from the shadows, I still couldn’t forget that sinister smile I witnessed from my apartment window.
Tonight, I organize bins full of inventory, pulling out the dusty headless mannequin, and piling everything into the living room for an easier morning. Andrea volunteered to help load up, but there is still thick tension between us. We work quietly, side by side, piling the cart full of what is needed for tomorrow. When I get hot, I push my sweater up to my elbows, revealing the yellowing bruise on my wrist from that pig of a customer who grabbed me. Like a hawk, she spots the injury and gets immediately in my business.
“Did Eamon do that to you?!” She finally speaks, her tone accusatory, borderline enraged.
“What? No! It was some asshole customer that was harassing one of the new girls. The guys jumped in and?—”
She looks from my face to the insignificant injury again.
“Why do you even work there, Cindel?! That place is a hole in the wall. I’m going to find something more suited for you.”
I abandon packing away embroidery hoops and stand from the floor. “What?” I ask, confused and mad. Actually, madder than anything! Since when does she get to tell me what to do?!
Her chest rises and falls, while her brows remain furrowed and her jaw clenched tightly. “You heard me,” she scolds. “If your parents knew what you’ve really been up to, they would have taken you back to New York with them three years ago!”
