“Are you sure?” she asked finally.
“We’ll do a DNA test, too, but I think the easiest thing to do now is see if the key fits.”
“How much are they worth?” she wondered. “Those papers you have?”
“The buyers we’re talking to, one here and one in Britain, said they’re willing to pay half a million for the full set,” Landon said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jessica said genially. She turned to Kaimi in awe. “How did you figure all this out?”
“Did you bring the items I asked for?” Kaimi replied.
“Uh-huh.”
“Photo?”
She handed the long photo to Kaimi, who walked over to Landon’s bookshelf and picked up the framed panoramic image of Landon and his dad. She held the two pieces together to form a complete image of the San Francisco Port.
The feeling Landon’s picture meant something had nagged at her for days, so she did a Google image search of the location, and realized she’d seen the other half of the photo at Jessica’s. “I think he wanted to tell you about Landon but he chickened out. He cut this picture in half the same way he cut the Erdnase papers in half. It was a clue. You said he met your mom in San Francisco, and…”
“But that’s such a huge coincidence—”
“Then there were the numbers and letters he wrote on the back. It’s from the Thomas Guide.”
Kaimi turned Jessica’s photo over and showed Landon the bottom corner. 126, 4B.
“I remember those,” Landon said. To Jessica, he added, “They were these big-ass maps, spiral-bound paperbacks, that everyone had in their cars. To find an address, you looked up the coordinates. The first part is the page number, the second part is the grid.”
“Your dad was telling you where he lived,” Kaimi told Jessica. “I looked it up in an old guide and it led me right here to Landon’s house.”
“He lived here till the day he died,” Landon confirmed.
“If he wanted me to find him, why didn’t he just call me? Give me his address?” Jessica asked. “He wasted so much time. Why the fucking treasure map?”
“He always did stuff like that,” Landon said. “Never straightforward, never easy.”
Jessica took a deep breath and let it out.
“So where’s the music box?” Landon asked.
Jessica retrieved it from her bag. “Here you go.”
Landon handed Jessica the key. She turned the music box over in her hands and slid the key into the slot.
It slipped right in and turned effortlessly.
Jessica’s face lit up.
Without opening it, she handed the box to Kaimi, turned to Landon, and threw her arms around his neck. “I always wanted a sibling!”
“Me too,” said Landon, squeezing Jessica tightly back. “I was just saying that to Kaimi, what, a few weeks ago? How I always wanted a sibling. Tell her, Kai.”
“He was. It’s true.”
“We have to talk,” Jessica said. “About everything. So, he raised you? With your mom?”
“Just him.”
“So I had a single mom and you had a single dad. Why didn’t they bring us up Brady Brunch–style? What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he figured we each got one parent and that was for the best? Or one of them didn’t want to move?”
“Do you think he looked like me at all? And look at you—you’re so handsome. I was telling that to Kaimi, wasn’t I, Kaimi? I mean, I don’t think it’s weird to say. My handsome brother. Big brother, right? When were you born? And you’re dating one of my friends. How cool is that?” She barreled ahead before he could answer any of her questions.
Kaimi walked backward toward the door.
“I’m going to let you guys get acquainted. I’m glad something good could come of this, even if I’m not on the job anymore.”
“What do you mean, not on the job?” asked Jessica. “You’re getting a commission for sure. Don’t even think of arguing. Twenty percent, right, bro?”
Landon and Kaimi looked at each other for a charged beat.
“Right,” said Landon. “Thanks for everything, Kaimi. See you around.”
* * *
Kaimi sat at her desk that night, composing a letter on the most expensive stationery she could find. She took her time, printing neatly and pausing every few words to make sure it came out the way she intended. She’d begun with the only two Korean words she knew.
Dear eomma and appa,
I have good news…
Jessica
Jessica woke the next day feeling lighter than air.
A brother!
She had a kind, handsome brother!
Not to mention…a friggin’ fortune. Well, once Kaimi and Landon sold the papers, and who knew how long that would take. But it was on its way.
If, God forbid, she ever needed to bail on Cal, she had someplace to go now, a family member who would take her in, and money to protect her.
She and Landon had stayed up until three talking and eating cold pizza. They both liked pepperoni and mushrooms, which Jessica chalked up to a “sibling thing.” She had sibling things now!
When she got home, Cal was asleep. The role reversal was extremely satisfying. Best of all, she had a secret from him, now. A fucking whopper.
Her euphoria was heightened when Cal treated her to a memorable wake-up call. From his position between her thighs, he gazed at her adoringly, his brown eyes dark and tender. His tongue swirled against her, setting off a chain reaction, as though little lightbulbs were popping on along her spine.
As she climaxed, an image slipped into her mind. Claire’s face at age twenty, unguarded, smooth, and free of tension, her mouth forming a perfect, soft O.
Gasping, she clutched Cal’s hair in her fingers. She assumed he would crawl up her body and finish himself off, but after seeing to Jessica’s bliss, he left the bedroom and returned with a breakfast tray: turkey bacon and avocado omelets, toast, OJ, and coffee. She stretched languorously.
“This is nice,” she purred. “What’s the occasion?”
“The show’s done, so I planned a day for us, and tonight’s the Magician of the Year contest if you’re up for it.”
“Definitely.”
“Until then, today is all about you. I’m ashamed to say it’s long overdue. I should’ve done this when we first arrived.”
She didn’t disagree. “You were working,” she reminded him. “It’s okay.”
“In that case, Jessica’s day begins…” He glanced at his watch. “Now. When you’ve finished breakfast, pack a swimsuit and come with me.”
* * *
They arrived at their destination two hours later.
Her first guess was Santa Barbara. They’d headed north on the 101. Realizing that didn’t exactly present the best views California had to offer, Cal had swept up the 405 to the 5 and then the 126—a dizzying array of freeways that eventually broke into a two-lane road surrounded by dry, sleepy farm towns that in anticipation of Halloween boasted haunted train rides for kids and murder mystery rides for grown-ups. They passed tree orchards, wineries, orange groves, and roadside stands selling strawberries, honeycomb, and pumpkins.
Five minutes shy of their destination, he pulled over to the side of the road and blindfolded her for the big reveal. She remained sightless when his BMW pulled into a parking space. He turned off the engine, opened the passenger-side door, and led her carefully out of the car, up the road, and onto an elevated platform. Warm breezes threw her hair into turmoil. The steady crash and fall of waves in the distance, the smell of salt water and muggy sand told her they were at the beach. He guided her by the elbow over some uneven ground, and she held on tightly to him so she wouldn’t trip. Seagulls squawked, kids yelled, dogs barked, and music poured from radios nearby. Yet they weren’t walking on sand. The ground beneath her feet was firm yet seemed susceptible to weight; it swayed with their steps.
A pier.
Twenty more pac
es and Cal stopped.
He tucked her hair into the back of her shirt and removed the blindfold.
She squinted as sunlight burst across her vision. When she could see clearly again, she discovered her guess was correct: the beach, on a warm, cloudless day.
“Welcome to Ventura Harbor,” said Cal.
It was almost October but summer lasted as late as November out here, she’d been told. She occasionally missed the foliage from the Midwest, but right now it was impossible to yearn for Chicago weather.
“I’ve a confession to make,” Cal continued.
Her stomach flip-flopped.
“I wasn’t always in the edit room. Sometimes I came here to fix up a surprise for you, and now it’s ready.”
Cal pointed to a sleek, fifty-foot-long boat docked several yards away. “This is her.”
Made of wood and fiberglass, spacious but uncluttered, it seemed like a natural extension of the loft. Compared with some of the boats farther along the coastline, which were double its size and had complicated-looking rigs and multiple masts, Cal’s boat was clean and simple, with one mast and two sails.
Jessica stared at it. It was the yacht. The one he’d inherited after Brandy’s death.
She looked to the right, where a statue of a mermaid playing a flute leaned elegantly above the rocky coastline. “How far outside the city are we?”
“Quite a way north.” He followed her gaze to the statue. “That’s Soter’s Point, and up the coast is Marina Park, and then a private beach. I thought about docking her south, in Marina del Rey, but when I go sailing I want to get away from it all, not just head to a different kind of noise and crowd.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Did you see the name?” he asked.
Painted in dark yellow cursive on the side of the boat were the words, GOD BEHOLDS.
She occasionally looked up the meanings of baby names online, including her own. The name Jessica meant, alternatively, “Rich” and “God Beholds,” which had stuck with her because they were both so painfully untrue.
“What do you think?” he said. “Do you like it? I thought about putting ‘rich’ but that seemed to be asking for trouble.” He chuckled. “‘SOS. This is the USS Rich calling with an emergency! SOS! Harbor Patrol, do you copy?’ ‘Well, why don’t you just throw some money at the problem, you rich prick?’”
She forced a laugh. “What did the boat used to be called?” she asked.
“It didn’t have a name,” he said. “Until you.”
“But—wasn’t it Brandy’s?” she exclaimed.
He tilted his head. “What?”
“The boat—it belonged to Brandy. I was, uh, cleaning, and I saw the policy.”
He gave her a long look, his face blank. “Did you? Dusting off my personal files, were you? How thoughtful. When was this?” He’d never spoken so acidly to her before, yet it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. It was the way he sounded on the videotape. That damn videotape.
“Just—when you were out.”
His cheek twitched. “As a matter of fact, Jessica, the boat was always mine. She hated the water, never went sailing with me. I put it in her name when we were dating, to keep her solvent in case I kicked off first. Of course, that’s not what happened, but I suppose you know all about that, too, don’t you?”
She swallowed tightly.
“Tell me, Jessica. Any other concerns you have about the state of my finances?”
She trembled even in the warmth of the sea air. Twice now he’d called her Jessica instead of Jessie. Such a minor thing, but it set off alarm bells. He hadn’t called her that since they’d first met.
Again, she couldn’t form words.
“Do you even want to see it, or should we forget it and go home?” he said darkly.
* * *
She felt self-conscious in her bikini. The midafternoon sun seemed to highlight her scars, and tiny as they were, they stood out because of the sheer number of them. A few wouldn’t have been noticeable, but at that moment she felt lit up like a constellation chart.
Watching Cal, shirtless, check the lines and hoist the sails should have made her happy. His strong, lean body, sinewy arms coated in sweat, worked the boat like a pro. Which, she reminded herself, he had been. He’d spent ages sixteen to twenty as a crewmember, “one step above a scullery maid,” as he put it. Somehow, this made her feel uneasy rather than secure. In a few minutes she’d be helpless, completely alone with him in the ocean, far from shore.
The boat began to move. Cal strolled the deck and made a few adjustments. “We want the wind at our backs, but also our sides,” he explained, and came over to sit next to her.
The waves were light but still dizzying, and reminded her of their honeymoon, a twelve-day cruise from Bali to Singapore.
Technically, she and Cal hadn’t been guests on the cruise; his after-dinner magic shows paid for room and board on an otherwise unaffordable trip. Their cabin was half the size but twice as fun as those of the paying guests. Okay, it was cramped beyond measure, with nowhere to stand, but that just meant they had to be creative. And they’d been very creative.
After some complaints from the other passengers about the sounds emanating from their room at two a.m., the cruise manager threatened to leave them at the next port. For the remainder of the trip, Jessica bit down on a deck of cards at her most climactic moments, which solved that problem. She’d left the indented pack behind in the bedside drawer like a Gideon Bible.
Those carefree days were only six weeks ago, but it felt like years.
“You’ve been unhappy.” He touched her knee. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t like being left alone all day. I don’t like being in a new city without you,” she admitted. “So yeah, I let my fears and worries get the better of me. And what I’ve realized is there are so many things I don’t know about you.”
“We’ll get to all that in time. It’ll happen naturally, we don’t need to force it,” he said gently.
“It just feels like you’ve got so many secrets,” she added.
“You’ve got quite a few secrets of your own, you know,” he said.
Oh, God. Does he know about Landon somehow? The Erdnase papers? She swallowed and put on her best “confused” face. “What do you mean?”
Cal stretched out next to her and pointed to the scars dotting her skin. “What’s all this, then?” he asked in a kind voice.
“How come you’ve never asked before?”
“I didn’t want you to think it mattered. And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. They sailed another half hour in silence, watching the horizon, until Cal checked his watch and stood up to reverse their course. He released the sheet from the winch on the windward side and pulled it to leeward to get them back on their way to shore.
Sailing together reminded her of their first real conversation, when they’d walked along Lake Michigan, looking out at the endless water.
“I can tell you. I want to.” She took a deep breath. “I used to go outside in the summer without insect repellent on and I’d let the mosquitoes eat me alive.”
“Why?”
“Because then my mom would use cotton balls and calamine on them. It was the only time she acted like a real mom. She’d go slow, make sure she got every spot, every bump. Have you ever used it? It’s cold, and pink, and it smells sweet, almost like putting ice cream on my skin. Even so, I’d scratch and scratch in my sleep, they itched like a mother, I couldn’t help it. And the next morning and the next night she’d go over them again, so I kept doing it, every summer until high school.”
“I hate that you had to hurt yourself to get her attention,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you told me. Thank you.”
He kissed each scar, mark, or slight discoloration along her arms. Kisses that weren’t designed to lead anywhere and expected nothing of her in return.
“When
it’s just you and me,” he murmured, “it’s perfect. It’s when other people jump in, that’s when it gets tricky.”
“But I want there to be other people. I want to have dinner parties and go out and meet up with friends. How come you haven’t taken me to the club?”
“We’re going tonight,” he pointed out. “And on Monday.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Why haven’t I taken you to the club?” he repeated. “Staggering cowardice, mainly. I didn’t want to be grist for the gossip mill. I knew they’d fall in love with you, and that would reflect well on me, make it easier for me to return. But they frightened you, instead. Even though I asked Claire to look out for you, they got to you.”
Jessica nodded.
“They told you I killed her, didn’t they? What’s the latest story, strangulation? Push her out a window?”
“Nobody told me specifics, there was just this weird vibe everywhere, you know? Whenever I introduced myself.”
“There were whispers when I left town, too, and I’m sure they grew louder while I was away. The truth is, we hated each other at the end, but I never would have hurt her. Not physically. We hurt each other in other ways. If Brandy and I could snort it, smoke it, inhale it, or fuck it, we would, and anytime she had second thoughts, or I had second thoughts, we’d pull each other back in.
“We lived together a long time, but we were only married a year, all of which I spent blitzed because I was miserable. And so was she.”
“Why were you miserable?”
“Well.” He looked at the sky, avoiding Jessica’s gaze. “Loads of reasons.”
“Pick one.”
“She fed the worst parts of me,” he said finally. “And when someone does that, you’ll do anything to keep them around because otherwise you might have to change. I fed the worst parts of her, too.” He closed his eyes. “God, it’s a wonder Claire even speaks to me.”
“Claire?” Her heart rate sped up, the way it always did when Claire was mentioned. She considered telling him that she’d watched the tape, but she couldn’t bear for him to stop talking, or become more disappointed in her than he already was.
Club Deception Page 22
