by Camy Tang
What? Unavailable?
Was that what happened when a telephone line was cut?
The police arrived within five minutes, and as soon as they saw the two men on the floor of the kitchen, the officers seemed to recognize them.
“Did you send officers to that address?” Charles demanded, even before they tried to call a paramedic. “They mentioned this address.” He showed them his cell phone. “We tried calling, but the line is suddenly disconnected.”
One of the officers immediately took Charles’s cell phone showing the Lancasters’ home address and went to make sure a car had been dispatched there.
The next few minutes were tense. Eddie and Charles answered questions, trying to be calm, but all the while they exchanged flickering glances, taut and razor sharp. Mama. What had happened to Mama?
One of the officers came up to them with a cell phone. “We called the San Jose PD, but apparently your friends had already called 9-1-1. They’re okay now. She wants to speak to you.” He handed Charles the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh thank goodness you’re safe,” Mama said. Her voice had never sounded sweeter to his ear.
He released a breath in a huge whoosh, unaware he’d been holding it. “Mama, you’re all right?”
“We’re fine.”
They were okay. Tessa had kept them safe.
“Well, except for Tessa.”
It was almost as painful as getting his finger broken. “Tessa? Is she all right?”
“She was trying to protect us.” Mama’s voice wobbled. “There was so much blood. Thank goodness the police brought an ambulance with them.”
“Mama, what happened?”
“She was shot, Charles. The ambulance just took her away. We don’t know what’s going to happen to her.”
Everything was annoyingly white.
What about ecru instead? Or a nice, cheerful lime green? No, that might be pukey. Okay, how about robin’s egg blue?
All this white was burning holes in her eyes. And they weren’t even open.
“Tessa.”
She shook her head slowly. No Tessa here. She went to Disneyland. No, not Disneyland. How about the Bahamas?
“Tessa.”
The voice was deep, caressing. It made her insides mushy. Or, her insides would be mushy if they didn’t feel like she was birthing a dump truck.
The voice made her crack open an eyelid.
Charles.
The mahogany color hadn’t come out of his curls entirely, so they were oak brown rather than golden brown. His blue-green eyes swam above her. Now blue-green would be a nice color instead of all this white.
His hand cupped her face. That felt nice. Maybe he’d kiss her.
The white was too bright. It caused pain to lance through her head, down her limbs, settling into a raging fire in her abdomen.
And in a flash, it all came back to her.
She looked into his beautiful eyes, reminded herself that they were deceitful.
And she turned her head away from him.
She felt his hand fall away from her face. Her cheek became colder than liquid nitrogen.
The white was finally starting to dim, and the pain was starting to dull. Darker, darker.
Darkest.
She awoke to more darn white.
Oh, and pain. In. Every. Single. Cell. In. Her. Body. “Just shoot me now,” she groaned.
“You already were,” a deep voice rumbled.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Mom said, and she appeared beside Tessa’s bed, face concerned and relieved at the same time. And next to her …
“Uncle.”
It hurt to talk. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. She even felt little pulses of pain through her veins that coincided with the beep … beep of the heart rate monitor.
“Am I going to die?” she asked.
“No.” And then Mom did something really freaky-weird — she smiled at Tessa. “The doctor said you did perfectly in surgery.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“That’s what happens when you try to converse with a bullet,” Uncle Teruo said.
“Ha, ha, very funny. Oh, hey, now I have a bullet wound just like yours.”
“Not just like mine.” His lip twitched. “I have a cooler scar.”
“But I fought off two guys and I didn’t have a gun.”
“If you want to count stupidity the same as bravery …”
“I was brave. I took a bullet for someone.” She had to pause while the pain roared for a second. “I don’t think I want to do that again anytime soon.”
“Yes, you took a bullet for your family.” He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “And I … I can do no less.”
What did that mean? But when she tried to understand it, there was that pain again, blanketing her entire head as if her skull was on fire. Maybe it was on fire. She could smell something burning.
“I will see you later,” he said. And then he was gone.
Mom did another psycho-bat thing and took Tessa’s hand in a gentle caress. She stroked the back of her hand over and over again.
“What happened when I got shot?” Tessa asked.
“Alicia cried.”
“She did?”
“Well, she also said, ‘You moron, I can’t protect us!’”
“Ah, okay. That sounds more like Alicia.”
“And then we heard sirens.”
“Good Paisley.”
“She has threatened to spend the next twelve years in therapy after being forced down that spider hole.”
“It built up her character.”
“She was irate because she got three spider bites in places she wouldn’t show me.”
It hurt to wince.
“And then it took six minutes for the ambulance to come.” Mom’s voice had gone back to its normal complaining-cadence. Except … she was complaining for Tessa, not about Tessa.
“You were shot through and through. And the stupid doctors didn’t take you into surgery right away. You were lying on that rolling bed-thingy for almost thirteen minutes.”
She had a vague memory of blue-green. “Did anybody …?”
“I had to shoo that Charles person away — what about ‘family only’ is hard to understand?”
It was just as well. She remembered turning away from him. Strange, the memory hurt too, like a candle flame under her breastbone.
She could swear she smelled something burning.
“You were in surgery for —”
“I don’t know if I want to know, Mom.”
And then Mom did a third crazy-bizarro thing — her face crumpled, and tears formed on her lashes. “I thought I lost you.” She squeezed Tessa’s hand tight.
She had known — or at least had wanted to believe — that she meant something to her mom, but this was the first time she could remember feeling it. It was so foreign, and so nice at the same time.
“You mean so much to me,” Mom said.
“I’d do it again, Mom.”
“Well, I don’t want you to,” she said irritably. “Don’t do that again, ever.”
“Hopefully I won’t ever have to.”
Tessa realized she hadn’t really prayed to improve her relationship with her mom. She’d prayed more along the lines of, Please help me not to kill my mother. But God had answered her prayers for a home, it seemed. Maybe it would be good for her to stay with Mom for a while, try to improve this new facet to their complex relationship.
And who knows? Alicia might actually say something nice to her one day. Of course, then she’d know Christ was coming again, so it would be a short-lived nice, but still. She couldn’t prevent a snort of laughter. Oh, that hurt like hot coals all along her stomach muscles.
On the side table, Mom had dropped her cardigan, and a sleeve had flopped over a reading lamp — which was turned on. Tessa saw a curl of smoke rising.
“Mom … do you smell something burning?”
Chapter 29
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The man appeared like a ghost. Charles had just come home from work — still no move by Mr. Greer — to the smell of cannoli and the sight of the San Francisco yakuza boss sitting at his kitchen table.
“Whoa.” He jumped back a step.
“Oh, hello Charles.” His mama smiled at him but didn’t leave her frying oil. “Mr. Ota came by to see you.”
Charles approached him cautiously. “Sir.”
“Your mother is making me cannoli.” He said it solemnly. “She tells me they will cause me to die and then they will stick to my thighs.”
“But they are so worth it,” Mama said.
“They’re my favorite,” Charles said, more because he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a dream — rather, nightmare — or maybe a hallucination induced by the laughing gas at his dentist’s office. Except he usually hallucinated about Britney Spears.
Teruo gestured to a seat at the kitchen table. “Sit.”
It was his house, but Charles still sat like an obedient golden retriever.
“Your mother has been telling me about you.”
Oh, no.
“She says you will be fired soon.”
He hadn’t thought Mama even realized that. “It has to do with the private equity firm Tessa told you about.”
“I know.” He slid a folder across the table to him. “I did my research.”
The man would have put a law student to shame. “What exactly did you find out?”
“That Manchester Greer and Aloisius Rosenstein supplied money obtained illegally from heroin imported from China for an investment strategy with Heath Turnbull’s private equity firm.”
“What?” Charles opened the file.
It was all there, documented. Authenticated records, admissible in court.
“Elizabeth St. Amant is now safe,” Teruo said. “The Triad will only want to dissociate itself from the situation and Stillwater Group will not say exactly where the illegal funds came from if they value their lives.”
“What about … your people?”
“The Triad will be upset about their lost funds, since the money will be seized once the firm is under investigation, but because the blame lies with Greer and Rosenstein, we are not implicated in the fallout.”
“What about the attack?”
Teruo gave him a dry look. “I will respond with righteous anger to the Triad’s unprovoked attack upon my nieces and sister at her home, as well as the unprovoked attack on Tessa at the party.”
“And then what?”
“What will probably happen is that relations with the Triad will remain tense, but will cool down somewhat. Most importantly, there will be no war, which none of us want.”
Charles laid his hand flat on the folder. “How much is real and how much has been doctored?”
Teruo Ota gave him a neutral look. “Do you really want to know?”
“No, not really.”
“What is significant is that the Triads are not implicated in these documents, but this will destroy Stillwater Group and also Manchester Greer, which I think is what you’d want.”
“I didn’t want to destroy him, just … kick him around a little.”
Teruo reached out and tapped the folder. “For this, you will not do the kicking. The managing partner in your law firm has been alerted to inconsistencies in Greer’s behavior and has been given a copy of these documents.”
This was serious. Once the managing partner discovered Mr. Greer had violated firm policy — simply being affiliated with Stillwater Group and yet volunteering himself as lead partner on the case was enough — he would be expelled from the partnership, reported to the bar, and reported to the police.
“You will find your job safe,” Teruo said. “I would even guess you will find yourself the object of embarrassed apologies.”
“Thank you,” Charles said. “Not just for my job, but for saving Elizabeth.”
“I did not do this for you, or for her. I did this to save my niece.”
“I’m still grateful.” He paused, then added, “I’m sorry about what I did seven years ago. I didn’t know her then.”
Teruo’s face remained grave. “But even knowing her past, you did not tell the Triad members where she was.” His eyes fell on Charles’s broken fingers.
Charles studied his fingers, also, secured in a cast. They mirrored Mama’s broken fingers. He felt rather proud about that.
“Most men do not respond to pain well,” Teruo said. “But you are a man who is loyal.”
He hoped so. He also hoped he was a man who had changed for the better.
“I give you these documents, but I also ask a favor.”
Charles wasn’t surprised, but he warily regarded the older man. “What sort of favor?”
“I want Tessa to hire you as a retainer for her bodyguard business.”
Charles blinked for a moment, unsure he’d heard him correctly. “My firm …”
“I will pay her bills.”
Of course. “Why me? You have your own lawyers.”
“She won’t use them.”
Ah. No, she wouldn’t.
“But I want her to have someone loyal, and you have proven to be honorable.”
He’d proven it with two broken fingers. Made perfect sense. Charles supposed that to a man like Teruo Ota, honor was proven with broken fingers.
“She will need legal counsel if she continues to take cases of people like Elizabeth St. Amant — people who need Tessa, not just people who need a bodyguard.”
“I think I understand what you mean,” Charles said. Tessa would take clients she could believe in, not just clients who would pay her.
“You’ve proven you will do your best to protect your clients,” Teruo said. “So I want you to protect my niece. Show her this same loyalty in the courtroom.”
“She won’t want to hire me,” Charles said. “She hates me.”
“She’ll hire you because I’ll tell her to.” Teruo’s jaw was stern. “But do not tell her I am the one paying her bills. It would upset her.”
Now that was an understatement.
Charles didn’t feel like he could say no to this man, but he also didn’t want to. He didn’t want Tessa to disappear from his life. “I’ll do what you ask.”
Teruo nodded regally. “I do not need to tell you what will happen to you if you harm Tessa in any way.”
“I would not harm her … or you.” Hoo-boy, would he get in trouble for a statement like that?
“Here you are,” Mama said, laying two cannoli in front of them. “Eat up before they get soggy.”
Teruo watched Charles intently as he picked up a cannoli and took a huge bite, the shell crispy and flaky, the cream decadent with chocolate chips and chocolate sauce. Teruo followed suit, lifting the cannoli rather gingerly, then taking a bite.
He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then turned to Vivian.
“This will not cause me to die, but yes, it will stick to my thighs.”
Man, take a bullet, and everyone forgets about you.
Tessa stared at her bedroom ceiling, counting the water stains. She considered getting up, but she’d rather be bored than in pain.
Mom was getting ready to go to work, Paisley was doing homework, and Alicia was probably scrubbing a toilet.
How pathetic that scrubbing a toilet sounded mildly interesting to her right now.
She’d left her knitting at Charles’s house, but since her stomach muscles were still in horrible shape, she couldn’t sit up for very long anyway, and knitting on her back would be like washing dishes while standing upside-down.
“Helloooo.” She heard a knock at her door.
“Elizabeth! Come save me.” Tessa slowly, delicately raised herself to a sitting position.
Elizabeth helped by arranging her pillows for her. “Still in pain?”
“Who knew you needed your stomach muscles for the dumbest things? Like brushing your teeth.”
“I come bearing gifts.” Elizabeth set Tessa’s jumble of knitting on the bed in front of her. “That’ll take you at least three years to untangle.”
“The prospect is so exciting I can’t stand it.”
“And Aunt Vivian worried that they’ll be soggy, but I said you wouldn’t care.” With a flourish, Elizabeth uncovered a plate of cannoli.
Tessa took a moment to stare in awe and wonder at the lovely cream-filled cylinders of yumminess. “You are truly superior among women.”
“That’s what I told my daddy, but he still wouldn’t buy me the Corvette.”
Tessa took a luscious bite. “Want one?”
“I already had one.”
“And the problem is …?”
“Well, if you insist.” Her hand snatched up one of the cannoli faster than a magician.
“So how are things at the hotel?”
“You know, I loved your mama’s house, and I loved Charles’s house, but there is something about room service that cannot be adequately praised.”
“So Charles got all your money back for you?” Saying his name was awkward.
“And then some. Apparently Heath had shunted some secret funds into an account in my name alone.”
“Sweet.”
“Divorce proceedings are going smoothly and my daddy called me last week.”
Tessa paused in the middle of a bite. “Your daddy? The one who wouldn’t speak to you before, that daddy? Or do you have a different one stashed away somewhere?”
“He was very apologetic.” Elizabeth didn’t look impressed. “Although my increased bank account might account for some of that.”
“Hmm. That’s an interesting dilemma. Would I really want a fake apology as opposed to none at all?”
“I’m for the none at all,” Elizabeth said. “I’m still feeling rather hurt by the fact that when I was homeless and unemployed with a three-year-old son, they happily kicked me out of their home and hearth.”
“Yeah, that would put a damper on Thanksgiving and Christmas.”
“But I miss Louisiana. I’m going to move back there. I even found a few old friends on Facebook.”
