by Claire Adams
“I started my restaurant in a cart, then a kiosk. Now I’ve got something. I want to have control of the company.”
“And you will, but you’re missing the big picture.” I softened and added a sympathetic tone to my voice. “You can’t expand with your current sales. As soon as you sign the paper, I’ll pump 10 times more money than you’ve ever seen into that place. When I do, I’ll leave everything the way it is. All I want is the name.”
“Okay.” He said. “I’ll get the papers together so we can sign them.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “This is going to make you rich.”
In 10 years, he’d have a posh apartment overlooking the Tokyo skyline and a driver picking up his coffee in the morning. That’s what I did for people.
I took small businesses and gave them the exposure they deserved. The owners were guaranteed to be millionaires. He was making a good deal.
We went over the numbers and the branding. He needed marketing badly, so I gave him the number to our marketing division and promised to send somebody out to Kyoto. We’d be opening doors on new restaurants all throughout East Asia.
Once he found out what we were going to do, he chugged his beer and insisted on buying us both shots of sake. It was traditional to spend the evening together, having dinner and drinks, but I wasn’t a traditional man, and I hadn’t seen Mercedes since the night we went to the gala.
The second he left, I hopped into my luxury sedan and tried to call Mercedes. When she didn’t answer her phone, I gave Tony a call.
“Hey, what up?” he said when he answered. “You looking for something sexy? Got some dark chocolate, Theresa and Monet. They come as a package deal.”
“I just want to see Maria.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “That bitch is gone.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Dude, she came up in here, like oh, I want you, baby, trying to get with this. You know how them girls are. They let you do anything for them so long as you break out with them.” He clicked his tongue. “I told her to kick rocks, and she started screaming, saying how she thought I wanted her. It was pathetic.”
“Tony, don’t give me that crap. What happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, you only have five customers, and not one of them calls you like I do. I pay for that nasty house of yours, and all the drugs you could want. Now tell me where she is.”
“Dude, I don’t know,” he said. “She didn’t give me her address.”
“What happened?”
“Just what I told you. I ain’t gonna lie to you.”
“No, you won’t, because I will come down there. Now this is your last chance. Tell me the truth.”
“I tried to send her to another client, but she didn’t want to go with nobody else. She freaked out on me and kicked me off my chair. Then she quit.”
“Did you hit on her?”
“I don’t do none of that.”
“I want to make something very clear to you, you pathetic excuse for a human being. You stay away from her, you understand?”
“Hey,” he squealed. “I don’t want no trouble.”
“Good.” I hung up and called Mercedes again. No answer. “Dammit.”
I punched the wheel and started the car. I flew through midday traffic without a care, toward the freeway and back home. I had to change.
I took out my phone when I got close to the house and punched in a number.
“Nicos,” a deep voice answered. “Try our new nachos, get a free churro.”
“They making you say that crap, Larry?”
“Yeah, you know. What’s going on? I know you don’t need a taco.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me tonight at my place. What time are you off?”
“Now, if you want,” he said. “Is there anything you need before I get there?”
“No.”
I hung up and raced through the hills back home. When I got there, I ran up to my room to throw on a suit and take a shower. I had the kitchen staff ready a table out on the veranda and a bottle of wine with a cigar.
Everything was set up when Larry pulled up.
The sun was setting, staining the trees at the far edge of the property a midnight black, set against the orange skyline. I sat facing the back door, waiting. He was big, wearing a black pinstriped suit and a diamond earring. He wasn’t the kind of guy I normally dealt with. There was a raw edge to him. His eyebrows had lines shaved on the sides, and he had a line of facial hair trailing down his jawline.
“It’s been a while, Jake,” he said.
“It’s been busy,” I said. “Please, have a seat.”
He sat down across from me, and I poured him a glass of wine.
“How’s the family?” he asked. Larry always added a personal touch. It was a means of intimidation, and a good way to get close.
“They’re good,” I said.
He nodded. “Good to hear. So what’s up?”
“I need somebody found.”
“I can do that. Anything I should know about, first? I don’t want to be turning any heads, you know. I got a business to run.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No trouble. It’s a girl.”
“A girl?” He grabbed the cigar sitting in the center of the table. “Is she special?”
“No, it’s a business thing,” I said.
“You need her to disappear?” He lit the cigar and took a puff.
“Don’t even ask me that. I just need to know where she is.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I said.
He nodded. “Sounds simple enough, then. Get me the money, and I’ll get you the girl.”
“Half now.” I tapped a button on my phone, and a girl walked out holding a platter. She set it down on the table and opened it up. He leaned in and took a whiff of the cash.
“Fantastic.”
“How soon can you do it?” I asked.
“Right now,” he said. “Just give me a name, and I’ll call my people.”
I told him what I knew about Mercedes, which wasn’t much. He stepped away and made a quick phone call. Then he came back and sat down.
“You should have everything you need by the time I finish my cigar,” he said.
He puffed as long as he could and asked a lot of questions he didn’t have any business asking about Haylie, Elizabeth, and Andrew. He must have a list of names and basic facts he went over.
His cigar was burning low, and I got a text. It was Mercedes’s address. I gave him the rest of the cash, and he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mercedes
“What are you watching?” my dad asked. He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, leaning on his cane. He wore a baby blue beanie over his bald head. I told my mother not to buy it. It looked like a baby cap, but he loved it. He folded it just right and wore it so that it hung down sideways on his head.
“It’s a game show,” I said.
“Hand me that remote.” He plopped down on the couch next to me.
I handed it to him, and he flipped through the channels until he found an old documentary about wolves. “You get older, you get into this kind of thing, you know.”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and watched a wolf run down a snow-covered hill while the narrator went over pack dynamics.
“You should go get us some cookies,” he said with a sly twinkle in his eye.
“I thought Mom hid those in the cupboard on top of the fridge. How did you get up there?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “She left my door open when she pulled them out of the shopping bag. I saw her hiding them.”
“You little snake.”
“Are you gonna get those cookies, or what?” he asked, grinning.
How could I say no? “One cookie.” I got up.
“Bring the box, and could you get me a sod
a while you’re in there?”
I pulled the cookies down and pulled two sodas out of the fridge. I walked back into the living room. “You know, Mom’s coming home soon. If she catches you with those, she’s going to be mad.”
“I’m a sick old man,” he said. “I can eat cookies if I want some damn cookies.”
I shook my head and handed him the box. Despite my protests, I was more than happy to let him have some cookies. Most days, his appetite was nonexistent because of the chemo. Getting any food into him at all was a blessing. He needed his strength if he was going to fight this disease. I didn’t care where that strength came from.
“I can’t take this wolf crap,” I said. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t tell Mom about the cookies if you let me watch something else.”
I grabbed the remote from him and changed the channel to a cooking show.
“Don’t do this to me.” He took the remote back and turned it to a pawn show.
“Oh, no. That’s not going to happen.” I reached for the remote, and he pulled it away and set it on the arm of the couch.
“You don’t get to choose,” he said.
“That’s not fair.” The doorbell rang, and he stuck his tongue out at me like he’d won.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Go check, sweetie. I’m the one with the cane.”
“All right,” I said and stood up. “There better be more than crumbs left in that box when I get back.”
“No promises,” he said with his mouth already full.
I answered the door. It was Jake. He was leaning against the frame, right next to the spot on the stucco where my mom used to put out her cigarettes. A weed curled over the top of his shoe, and I could see the yellow grass behind him.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said.
“Nonsense,” my father said, appearing behind me. I had no idea how he’d moved so fast. He shot a wide grin at Jake. “Who’s this?”
I turned bright red. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Jake held his hand out for my dad to shake. “My name’s Jake, sir.”
Dad shook his hand. “Well, come on in, Jake. Can I offer you a cookie?” He stepped aside to let Jake in.
“Dad, please go back to the living room,” I asked, my voice strained.
Dad shrugged. “I just figured I should meet the guy my daughter’s dating.”
“Dad, we’re not dating,” I said.
“Well, if he’s not here to see you, does that mean Jake’s here to see me?” he asked with a grin.
My face burned a deeper shade of crimson. “Dad, please.” I felt like a teenager all over again.
“Fine,” Dad said. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jake said, barely suppressing a smile.
I was glad he was enjoying this because I certainly wasn’t. My father headed back to the living room. I pushed past Jake, walked outside, and closed the door.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“You quit and then disappeared, so I looked you up.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to see me once I got rid of Tony.”
“What happened with that fool? He didn’t do anything, did he?”
“No,” I said. “Not really. He wanted to send me to another client, which was not part of the deal. I just had enough, so I pretended to like him and kicked him out of his chair. What’d he say?”
“That you tried to seduce him and he kicked you to the curb.”
“Gross,” I said. “He fucking wishes.”
“I’m so glad to be done with that moron,” he said. “It’s easier this way.”
A yellow station wagon pulled into the driveway. It was Mom. She took one look at the red convertible sitting out front and stared right at me.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go inside.”
Before I could get in the house, my mother called out, “Well, hello. Who is this?”
I turned around. “This is my friend.”
“I’m Jake,” he said and shook my mother’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jake. Are you staying for dinner?”
“No, he’s not,” I said and pulled Jake inside.
My mom pushed past us. My father waved at us from his spot on the couch. “You guys wanna take a seat? The show is getting really good.”
“No, we’re fine.” I pulled Jake into the kitchen.
“So how do you guys know each other?” My mom lit a cigarette at the kitchen table. She motioned to two empty seats across from her.
My bedroom door was wide open. I was tempted to make a dive for it, but Jake was already sitting down, so I sat down next to him.
“We work with each other,” he lied seamlessly.
“Really? So you deliver packages all day? Is it hard?” My mom took a puff of her cigarette.
“No, not really, and we make good money in tips,” Jake said. He was a genius.
“Tell me she’s not straining herself too much, is she?”
“Please,” he said. “Our job is easy.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asked. “I thought we’d make something nice and do it together.”
“I was thinking of taking Mercedes out this evening,” Jake said.
“We’re going out,” I announced and stood up.
She nodded. “That’s fine.” She shot Jake a menacing look. “But so help me God, if you hurt her—”
“Mom!”
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving us off. “Go have fun.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.
As I walked out the door, I heard my mom yell from the kitchen. “Where the hell are the cookies?”
I grinned and shut the door. Then, we hopped into Jake’s car. The second we were inside, his lips were on me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jake
When I pulled away from Mercedes, she melted into the passenger seat. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“What are you apologizing for?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t have shown up like this.” I started the car. “It’s not right.”
“No, I’m glad you did. My phone has been weird. I can call out, but I can’t receive calls. I wasn’t sure if…”
I pulled out of the neighborhood street and onto the main road. “If what?”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’m glad you came over.”
“Good. Where do you want to go eat?”
“You really want to go out?” she asked.
“Of course, Mercedes.”
I turned onto the freeway ramp. The sun was setting behind the skyscrapers downtown. Mercedes was staring out the window. “Wherever you want to go,” she said.
“I know where.” I sped through the right lane and took the next exit. “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
“Where?” she asked.
“I’m not telling you,” I said, teasingly.
She didn’t react. She just looked back out the window. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been in depression mode. Too much TV. I hope I’m not a bore tonight.”
“You’re never a bore.” I rested my hand on hers.
The street we turned onto was basic, with a grocery store and a shopping center across the street. I pulled around in back of the shopping center and parked. “What’s wrong, Mercedes?”
“Well, you saw. My home life isn’t easy. Every second I spend there is another second I have to think about my father.”
“He seemed to be in good spirits,” I said. “Maybe you don’t have to worry.”
“How could I not? He might die.” She turned her head toward the window.
“You’ll get him his treatments,” I assured her.
I could tell she was crying, even though her back was to me. I gave her a moment to regain her composure. I knew when she needed comfort, and when she needed space.
>
“I’m sorry.” When she turned her head back, her face was perfect. I could barely tell she’d been crying. “Let’s go.”
She got out, and we walked around to the front of the shopping center, past a nail salon and dry cleaner, toward a set of windows with a life-sized Buddha sitting in front of a Chinese screen.
Her dark mood seemed to wash away when she saw it. “That’s a Thai Buddha.”
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“This is Bai Thong, isn’t it? This place is legendary. I heard their curry is like magma.”
“It is,” I said, holding the door open for her. The dining area was a small square room with a booth and a few tables. The place was intentionally small and private. The hostess walked around the booth when we walked in. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she showed us into their back room. It was nothing more than plain black walls and a booth with a cherry blossom branch sticking out of a white vase in the corner.
We made our orders right away. Thai shrimp curry, not too spicy. The waitress left us with a plate of spring rolls and water.
“How did you get a table at this place?” Mercedes asked. “I heard they rarely let people come in.”
“I own a stake in the company.”
“You do?” She took a sip of water.
“Yes, I do, and I just bought a chain of restaurants in Kyoto.”
“You must leave the country a lot.”
“I don’t like to,” I said and dipped a spring roll in peanut sauce. “I prefer to stay at home. I’ve been all over, except for Africa and some of Asia. It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. There’s nice places and not so nice places. People don’t vary as much as you’d think, just their living conditions.”
“You’re jaded.” She grabbed a spring roll and took a bite.
“I am. I’ll admit it.”
The waitress returned. “Here you are.” She set down two plates, bowls of steaming hot rice, and two bowls of rose-colored curry. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
I turned to Mercedes. She was spooning rice onto her plate already. “No, thank you,” she said.
I shook my head. “We’re good.”
The waitress nodded and left.
“I’m thinking of buying a curry chain,” I said. “Something nice and classy, but I haven’t found anyone to buy out yet.”
