Speak Now

by Margaret Dumas

  “Fine,” I barked, and he kept his eyes on the road for the rest of the trip.

  I would kill him. I would scream bloody murder at him. I would tear his head off. I would rip him to shreds. I would turn him into a quivering pile of apologies. I would kill him.

  When I stepped out of the cab into the night air, I felt like I’d been doused with ice water. Suddenly I wasn’t angry anymore. Suddenly I was terrified. Because I knew what I’d do.

  ***

  I heard Jack as soon as I opened the door.

  “Here she is,” he said into the phone, relief clear in his voice. “Charley, where have you been? Eileen is on the phone and she’s worried sick. She’s—”

  I took the phone from him and spoke into the receiver. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I hung up. I looked at my husband.

  “What the hell were you doing?” he demanded. “You had us frantic, disappearing like that. What were you thinking?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “What the hell is going on? What happened?” The balance was swiftly shifting from concern to anger.

  The phone rang.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” I asked.

  “To hell with it. What’s going on?”

  I picked up the receiver and held it out to him. “It’s for you.”

  He grabbed the phone “What?”

  It was Mike. I was only surprised that Eileen had gotten through first. I watched Jack’s face as comprehension dawned. He hung up without saying another word. He met my eyes. “Charley—”

  “Jack,” I cut him off. “I will say this once.” I stood directly in front of him and, when I was sure I had his complete attention, I spoke quietly. “If you ever have me followed again, for whatever reason, by whatever person—” I swallowed hard, but knew what I had to say. “We’re finished.”

  I don’t know what I expected—explanations, apologies, justifications. He didn’t say anything. He just kept his eyes locked on mine. I could see the exact moment when he understood I was serious. Slowly, he nodded. “I will never have you followed again.”

  I took a deep breath. “All right, then.” I sat down, dizzy suddenly.

  “But,” he said.

  My chin snapped up.

  “You have to agree to a bodyguard. At least until I can figure out whether…Macbeth…is still a threat.” He stumbled on the name I’d given his former colleague, but he was deadly serious.

  “I’m already carrying a gun,” I pointed out.

  “That isn’t enough.” He sat beside me. “I promise you, I swear to you, that I will never ask your bodyguard where you’ve been, who you’ve been with, what you’ve been doing, anything.” He took my hand, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not Harry. I will never spy on you.” His face hardened. “But I won’t have you unprotected.”

  “You realize how patronizing that is,” I said. “The implication being that I’m incapable of taking care of myself?”

  “Charley, I believe you’re capable of damn near anything,” he said. “But I also know what Macbeth is capable of.” He swallowed. “I won’t have you unprotected,” he repeated.

  I leaned back into the cushions and thought about it. Of course I didn’t need a bodyguard, but it wouldn’t be the first time in my life I’d had to put up with one. And it wasn’t really the fact that Jack didn’t think I could take care of myself that had made me crazy, it was the fact that he’d had me watched. Having me protected, with my full knowledge, was a different matter entirely. And I felt I’d made my point.

  Finally, I spoke. “I hear Brenda knows a nice man named Flank.”

  ***

  “Charley, how could you say something like that?” Brenda’s face bunched into a mask of concern. “You didn’t mean it, did you? You wouldn’t leave him?”

  We were at Harry’s house, drinking iced tea on the terrace overlooking the pool. I was telling Brenda all about the events of the night before. Well, not all about them. Not about the extremely satisfactory way in which we’d sealed our new agreement. But pretty much everything else.

  The poolside setting would have been downright idyllic if it hadn’t been for the occasional glimpses of armed men through the trees. God only knew what the golfers thought, catching sight of the large unsmiling men who observed their drives from the fifteenth hole with studied disinterest. At least Harry had kept their presence to the “perimeter.” So far there were no mercenaries in the breakfast room.

  I sighed and answered Brenda. “I did mean it. I think I would leave him.” I closed my eyes briefly. “That was the scariest thing.”

  She gave me a silent, reproachful look.

  “Brenda, I will not be spied on,” I said firmly. “I don’t think it’s too much to ask my husband to respect that.”

  “Oh, Charley,” she said sadly. “He was only trying to take care of you.”

  “Never mind, it’s all worked out. Jack is probably asking Harry for the use of one of his bodyguards right now.” I gestured toward the game room with my glass. “Maybe you and I can work out a time-share with Mr. Flank.”

  “Just Flank, no Mister,” she said absently. “Charley, if I understand you correctly, you’re not upset because Jack thought you needed protection, you’re upset because he was secretive about it. Yes?”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “He’s my husband. I expect him to be honest with me. If he thinks I’m in danger he should tell me, not have me watched like I’m some sort of child.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Full disclosure.”

  “Why not?”

  “Uh huh.” She sipped her tea.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Well.” She cleared her throat. “I was just wondering if you might be just the slightest bit hypocritical on that point.” She gave me an apologetic look. “About full disclosure.”

  “What?” I said again, this time as a protest of innocence.

  “Well.” She bit her lip. “I could be wrong, but I’m guessing you haven’t told Jack about Rix Begley.” She waited for my reaction.

  Damn.

  “Have you been talking to Eileen?”

  “Of course I have,” Brenda said. “She called me this morning. She was furious with you for disappearing like that. She wanted to know if I knew what was going on.”

  “Oh.” I’d called Eileen that morning to explain, but apparently I hadn’t been early enough.

  “And then she told me about Rix showing up at the theater.” Brenda’s face returned to the look of concern she’d been wearing most of the day. “Charley, how awful for you.”

  “I’ll admit it was a something of a shock.”

  She nodded. “Don’t you think you should tell Jack?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Why make a big deal about it?” Thinking things over in the night, I had pretty much resolved not to have the Rix discussion with Jack until I could figure out if there really was a connection between my bastard ex-boyfriend and Jack’s bastard ex-partner.

  “Isn’t it a big deal?” Brenda asked. “Eileen said the three of you were going crazy trying to figure out why he’d shown up offering funding right when the Rep needed it. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”

  “Well, yes,” I shrugged. “But—”

  “And don’t you think it’s a good idea to tell Jack about anything suspicious?” she pressed. “And anyway, don’t you think you owe it to Jack to tell him about Rix anyway? In the interest of keeping your relationship honest?”

  “It’s not the same thing,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows just the slightest bit.

  “It’s so not the same thing,” I stated firmly.

  She pursed her lips.

  “Is it the same thing?”

  She raised her glass. “To full disclosure.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’ll tell Jack about Rix.” Ugh. But maybe he’d be able to see the connection that I couldn’t.

  She beamed. “Oh, Charley, you’ll be so glad.”
/>   Maybe. “Anyway, how are you?” I changed the subject before she could make any further suggestions. “You look fabulous.”

  Brenda was wearing a linen sundress in a shade somewhere on the border between raspberry and orange sorbet. It made her skin glow and the slit up the side showed a lot more leg than usual for her.

  “Do you like this?” She looked down at herself. “Harry seems to think shopping and going for spa treatments are the only acceptable pastimes for Cece and me.” She smoothed out a wrinkle on the dress. “Can you believe this is a Calvin Klein? I’m sitting poolside on a weekday afternoon wearing Calvin Klein.” She shook her head.

  “And unless I miss my guess,” I commented, “those are no Birkenstocks on your pedicured feet.”

  She looked down at the two thin straps of buff leather holding a high heel on her foot, wiggled her bright orange toes, and sighed. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?”

  “Mmm,” I agreed.

  “They’d probably get me blackballed from the faculty lounge.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “Maybe.” She contemplated her footwear.

  “Charley,” she said after a while.

  “Um hmm?”

  “When do you think I can go home?”

  “What’s the matter?” If Harry had done something to upset her, I’d kill him.

  “It’s just that…” she gestured, taking in the pool, the grounds, the house. “I’m getting used to all this.” She turned to me. “I think wealth can be dangerously addictive.”

  Oh. As long as it was the lifestyle she was getting used to, and not the company of a certain bad-boy uncle of mine.

  “I don’t know, sweetie,” I said. “Jack and I have some leads, but I don’t know when…things…will be safe again.”

  “You and Jack?” Brenda replied skeptically. “You and Jack have some leads?” She leaned back in her chair, letting the sun hit her face. “If you don’t mind my saying so, it’s no wonder Jack wants to borrow Flank.”

  I decided not to be insulted. Brenda had been through a lot, most of it—okay, all of it—my fault.

  “Do you only take him to school?” I asked.

  “Who? Oh, Flank,” she said. “I only have one more class. We were supposed to have two, but I decided to make the final a take-home assignment that they can email me when they’re done. So the last class is on Monday, but I’m not bringing Flank.”

  “Won’t Harry freak out?”

  “I’m bringing Harry.”

  Oh?

  “He’s such an idiot,” Brenda went on. “He’s convinced we’re all going to bring cupcakes or something for the last day.”

  I stared at her. Did she just call Harry an idiot?

  She saw my look and made a face. “I know he’s your uncle, Charlie, but really. He insists on believing that Women’s Studies is another term for Home Economics. He thinks I’m teaching girls how to cook and sew.”

  She did call Harry an idiot! “Brenda,” I said, grinning so hard I thought my cheeks would split. “I’m so happy! What’s the last lecture on?”

  She smiled slyly. “Well, it was scheduled to be a survey of feminist ethical issues as portrayed in the mainstream media.” She paused and rattled her ice cubes. “But I’ve decided to substitute a session on media representations of subversions of the patriarchy.” She looked at the pool and stretched contentedly. “What do you think?”

  I beamed. “I think it’s just what your students deserve.”

  “I thought so too. Oh, look, here come Jack and Harry.”

  They were squinting in the sunlight after the darkness of the game room. Harry, in his trademark cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirt, moved as though he’d just gotten off a surfboard, taking wide strides and holding both arms up to wave hugely at us. Jack, beside him, looked like a sleek thoroughbred in his dark gray tee-shirt and black jeans.

  “Pour me some of that tea, Baby Doll,” Harry said, pulling up a chair to join us. “Um, I mean—” he shot a look over to Jack. “I’ll have a glass of tea,” he cleared his throat. “Charley.”

  I stopped in mid-reach and stared at Harry. He glanced again towards Jack, who kissed me lightly on the cheek before folding himself into the chair next to me, the slightest of smiles on his face.

  “I’m about as parched as an old man can get,” Harry announced, pouring his own tea.

  I looked at my watch. “Really? I’d have thought the sun was over the yardarm somewhere in the world.” Harry had never really been a stickler for which time zone he was in when he declared it the cocktail hour.

  “Ah, but Baby—um, Charley,” he said, grinning broadly, “it’s the new Harry!” He swallowed the drink in one gulp. “Clean and sober!” He patted his not inconsiderable midsection. “Never felt better in my life!”

  I looked at Brenda for confirmation.

  “Harry got rid of all the alcohol in the house,” she explained. “Because of Cece. He said if she could stay straight, he could stay sober.” She smiled warmly at Harry. “And he has.”

  “I tell you, Charley, I’m like a goddamn teenager again!” Harry held up his arms, bodybuilder style.

  “Wow.” It was all I could come up with. “Really, wow. Good for you, Harry.” I suppose wonders would never cease. I’d been so busy worrying about Brenda falling under my uncle’s influence, I’d never stopped to think what might happen if Harry fell under hers.

  I realized I should say something else. “How is Cece?”

  Brenda had told me that my cousin was out with Gordon that morning, shopping at the local farmer’s market. In fact, she’d told me that Cece and Gordon were practically inseparable these days.

  Harry beamed. “She’s a different person, Charley.” He shook his head. “I’d never have believed it. I think this thing got through to her more than any of the rehabs and clinics and treatments ever have.”

  “She’s learning to cook,” Brenda said.

  “You’re kidding.” Cece around food? The woman hadn’t eaten a full meal since the day Nancy Reagan had implored her to just say no. Personally.

  Harry nodded. “Gordon’s teaching her. She’s put on weight, hasn’t she, Brenda?”

  “She has,” Brenda confirmed. “It’s so nice not to see her bones sticking out.”

  “Wow.” It seemed to be my word du jour. “Amazing. Won derful. Good for her.” I resolved to keep my fingers crossed that this time she’d stay clean for good.

  Jack changed the subject. “Harry’s going to loan us one of the men who works for him.”

  I looked at Harry. “Flank?”

  “Flank,” Harry said.

  “Oh, goodie.” My sarcasm fell on deaf ears.

  “He’ll stay in a room down the hall from us at the hotel,” Jack explained. “He’ll be in the suite with you whenever I’m not—in another room, out of your way,” he shot down the protest I’d been about to make. “And he’ll go with you and stay with you whenever you go out without me.” He met my eyes. “Deal?”

  “When he’s at the theater he stays up in the balcony, not in everybody’s way,” I negotiated.

  “As long as he can see you from there,” Jack conceded.

  I thought about it. “He doesn’t come into bathrooms or dressing rooms with me.”

  “But he checks them out before you go in.”

  I took a deep breath. “Deal.”

  Harry slapped the table. “Well, all right then. Let’s go find the guy and tell him he’s got a new job.”

  Flank looked something like a cross between a Samoan hit man and a mastodon. The size was not completely unexpected for someone in his line of work. But the hair…It sprouted from the backs of his hands and his knuckles. It crept up from his shirt collar. It merged from his temples into his eyebrows. Eyebrow, to be fully accurate. The only place he didn’t have hair was on the top of his head. But he’d let what remained on the sides grow long enough to be held in a ponytail that trailed down his back. I prayed I’d never have occasion
to see him in a tank top.

  When Harry explained his new assignment to him, Flank looked at me and grunted a word which may have been “cool.”

  We took him home.

  ***

  I decided to stage a relaxed, romantic dinner that night. I had to tell Jack I’d agreed to direct the play, as well as provide full disclosure on the whole Rix thing. This called for heels and a slinky dress. This called for soft music and softer lighting. This called for discretion in the wait staff and an almost psychic level of anticipation from the wine steward. This called for an eight o’clock reservation at Postrio.

  The setting was perfect. The colors and lighting were subdued. Decorative flourishes of hammered copper glinted in the candlelight. Icy martinis appeared with the menus and a basket of delectable artisan breads was placed reverently between us.

  We started with Miyagi oysters on the half shell and a blini with smoked salmon and caviar, both of which we shared. Then Jack ordered the squab with polenta and a surprisingly chocolaty Madeira sauce, and I went for the Chinese duck served with fried rice and bok choy. Jack ordered a perfect crisp white wine that worked with it all, and I silently congratulated myself on having picked the perfect venue.

  It wasn’t until the entrées were served that Jack said, quite casually, “So what is it you don’t want to tell me?”

  I held up my finger and took one bite of the amazing duck. “There,” I said, having finished chewing like a proper grown-up. “I’m ready now.”

  I started with an update of the goings-on at the theater, beginning with the news that Brian, the director, had decamped for the East Coast. That led naturally to my nomination by Simon to take up the job, and from there I segued into the auditions and what a talented actress we’d found for the female lead.

  Jack nodded and commented appropriately, pausing only to ingest the occasional tidbit of squab or to spear a forkful of duck off my plate. He was more curious about Brian than I had expected him to be, and we went over everything I’d learned about him from the gang at the theater.

  When I’d finished, Jack looked at the table thoughtfully. “So this whole elaborate evening out was for you to break it to me that you’ve taken a job?” His right eyebrow raised fractionally.