Mitchell didn’t go home. He trudged through the sand, up to Zoe and Rose’s hut, disappearing through the front door as soon as it opened. I didn’t really care. I was still flying high, exhilarated by my rare rush of courage. The feeling remained long after I arrived home. I sat on the floor, counting out the hundred dollar bills and stacking them in a neat pile, elated to confirm there was indeed an extra four hundred dollars in my bounty.
I, Charli Blake, had successfully crossed into the big leagues. I’d ripped off my very first gangsters.
The money was safely tucked away under the loose floorboard when Mitchell arrived home.
He walked in and thumped down beside me on the beanbag, throwing me aside like a ragdoll. I waited for him to speak first, unsure if he was still angry.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. You deserved it but I am sorry. I’m not your keeper. It’s not my job to look after you.” His speech was obviously well rehearsed. He spoke slowly and precisely.
“But you do look after me. I would never have made it this far without you. Today turned out to be good for me. It’s my turn to look after you.”
Mitchell tilted his head, staring at me like I was crazy. “How do you figure that?”
I reached into my bra, retrieved his orange phone and held it out to him.
“I think this belongs to you.”
He snatched it from me, shaking his head in disbelief. The colour literally drained from his face. He realised what I already knew. I’d spent the afternoon in the company of the men who put six stitches in his forehead.
“Did you see what they did to me to get this phone?” he asked, gritting his teeth. “If they’d cut you up in to tiny little pieces and chucked you in a dumpster, you would have deserved it. And you think today was a good day for you?”
Seeing Mitchell angry was completely foreign territory. I had no idea how to handle him. “The end justified the means, Mitch. I’ve got enough money to go to New York now.”
He wasn’t the least bit impressed by my sketchy reasoning. “You’re never going to see sense, are you? I can’t let you go off on your own, Charli. It’s not going to end well.”
“You can’t stop me.” I regretted the childish comment instantly. I’d just made him more furious.
Mitchell quickly stood up. “I don’t want to stop you. It’s not up to me to stop you. You get yourself in to the worst scrapes purely because you don’t think.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “How much thought have you put in to your trip to New York?”
“Enough,” I uttered.
“Great. So you’ve contacted Adam to tell him you’re on your way.”
“No,” I scoffed.
Where was the romance in that?
Mitchell leaned down close to me. “You know why you haven’t called him, Charli?” He didn’t pause long enough to let me answer. “Because you’re winging it, just like you always do. Leaving things up to the universe isn’t always going to work in your favour.”
I didn’t feel as though there was an alternative. If I’d put any real thought into it, I’d talk myself out of going. I desperately wanted Adam back in my life. I craved the happy ending I’d been dreaming of for over a year. But in the back of my mind was one constant thought. He might not want me anymore. No amount of planning would prepare me for that. I had no choice but to throw it out to the universe. Whatever would be would be.
It was that philosophy that got me through my encounter with Rolex man and his henchmen. Explaining it to Mitchell was impossible. I saw no point even trying. “I think we should agree to disagree.”
“Fine, crazy weirdo.”
I’d heard him call his sisters a mountain of names far worse than that.
Crazy weirdo, I could live with.
3. Lessons
New York in November was not a place I wanted to be without winter clothing. There wasn’t much call for winter coats in Kaimte – or anywhere else we’d been in the past year. One phone call to Gabrielle solved that problem, and one I hadn’t even considered.
Within days of speaking to her, Mitchell and I borrowed Melito’s jeep and drove down to the parcel depot at the small airport. Waiting for me was a huge suitcase filled with enough winter clothes to see me through several New York winters.
“She was supposed to just pack up my stuff,” I grumbled, poring through the mass of clothes on the floor in front of me.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Charli,” teased Mitchell, pulling a very chic grey wool cap on to his head.
I didn’t recognise a single item. I couldn’t even consider them to be hand-me-downs. Everything was brand new, including the shiny brass key that tumbled out of an envelope I’d just found.
Mitchell waited until I’d read through the accompanying letter before asking me what it was for.
“This,” I said, waving the key in front of him, “is a key to an apartment Gabrielle owns in Manhattan.”
Of course the Parisienne owned real estate in New York. Nothing about the idea was shocking to me.
“You really do have a way of falling on your feet, don’t you?” he asked, donning the scarf that matched his hat.
“I have connections,” I replied, leaning forward to snatch the hat off his head.
It was almost embarrassing. I was hardly able to claim independence when I’d been gifted a roof over my head and a complete new wardrobe to boot.
“Can I ask you a question?” Mitchell’s tone matched his suddenly serious expression.
“Sure.”
“What are you going to do if it doesn’t work out with Adam? A lot can change in a year.”
I paused only momentarily. “I’ll be sad.”
Truthfully, I’d be devastated. I’d probably just curl up and let the despair have me. At least I’d look good, courtesy of my new designer wardrobe. But all Mitchell needed to know was that I had enough smarts about me to be able to survive. Alex had demanded the same reassurance. He’d never understood my need to have Adam in my life. Needing him was never a term he was comfortable with.
“He might not feel the same way, Charli,” he’d said gently.
When it came down to it, it didn’t matter. I wanted to see his face – even if it was to be for the last time. I had thought of nothing past that point.
***
Once all loose ends had been tied, there was no point in staying in Kaimte any longer. Letting go of Mitchell was going to be hard so I drew it out as long as I could. We made a weekend of it, borrowing Melito’s jeep again and driving south to Cape Town. Two days passed quickly and before I knew it, we were saying our goodbyes at the airport.
“If it doesn’t work out, you come back,” he instructed.
“I will.”
Excitement bubbled within me, which prevented me from standing still. Mitchell grabbed my hand to keep me stationary while he rattled off his list of rules. “Don’t let anyone near your bag, make sure you keep some money in your pocket, call me as soon as you get there and don’t forget to wind your watch back.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.” He released my hand and slung his arm around my shoulder. “Don’t talk to strangers.”
I smirked at him. “Mitch, everyone will be a stranger.”
“Okay, don’t talk to strange looking strangers,” he amended.
There were a million things I wanted to tell him, none of which I could articulate into a sentence that would be true enough.
Mitchell Tate had saved me. At the lowest of the low, after my best friend Nicole had betrayed and deserted me, he’d picked me up and dusted me off. We hadn’t spent longer than a few hours apart in over a year. Mitchell had never needed me. I however, wouldn’t have survived the first week away from home without him.
There was something very cathartic about leaving him behind. Mitchell was free to make his own way without having to worry about me.
He wouldn’t have to worry about the rent for a while either. I’d used some of my gangster loo
t to pay his rent up until the end of summer. It’s not something he would have approved of so I held off telling him until the very last minute.
“You’re going to need that money,” he scolded.
“You can’t miss what you don’t have.”
“I know for a fact that’s not true. I’m going to miss you, crazy weirdo.” He grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me hard on the lips. “Now go. You’ve got a plane to catch.”
I fought against turning back to look at him as I made my way through to the departure lounge. The only way from there was forward.
Saving Wishes Page 33
