Love Her Madly Page 27

  “And Lucas remains there, wherever there is.”

  A cracked smile bent her lips and she nodded.

  There was one thing about Cyn’s story that didn’t quite make sense to me. Cyn may have changed, but I couldn’t imagine her sitting idly while her husband went off to do mysterious things at the cartel every day.

  “What exactly have you been doing the past seven years?”

  She chewed her lip and muttered, “Housewifing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She grinned. Her eyes exhibited a reckless twinkle that I knew well. “You don’t believe that ol’ Cyn would be content to sit around doing laundry and watching telenovelas all day?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, you’re right. You’ve put your finger on the button. I got involved. I am so fucking involved. If I would have kept my head down and just been a normal wife, and watched the damn TV, things might have been okay, or maybe less terrible. But I had to get interested. Had to offer suggestions. Ideas. It seemed like a harmless way to help my husband, at the time.”

  “Fuck, Cyn. This complicates things, you realize.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, exposing her throat. “I know, Glo. But after what happened with Gabriel, I thought to myself, His wife wasn’t involved, but that doesn’t make him any less dead.”

  My head was beginning to throb. I uncapped my flat soda and took a sip. When I looked back up, Cyn was studying me, her fingers knotted together in a tight bunch.

  “Can you forgive me, Glo, for vanishing? Or worse, for coming back like this, asking for favors?”

  “Yeah, sure.” My thoughts were spiraling around the logistics of who I could call to help with something like this. It was absolutely out of my field of knowledge, more like something for the FBI or the State Department. And how exactly did McMurphy, bona fide employee of the State Department, play into this, and why was she no longer relying on his help? I glanced up, and she was fixing me with big questioning doll eyes.

  “You do? Really?”

  It took me a moment to remember what she’d just asked.

  “Jesus, Cyn. With your problems, does it even matter what I think?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?”

  She dropped from her chair onto her knees before me and put a hot hand on mine, her face softening in a way I’d never seen.

  “My daughter, Glorianna, is three. She is my most treasured thing. I named her after you. And I know it may seem strange because we’ve not known each other much longer than we were friends, but it was a very happy thing for me, knowing you. A bright spot. It really was. That’s why it matters. My life has been such a bizarre mix of things, good and bad, that I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it. I’m just doing all I can right now to not fall apart, so if you don’t like me or don’t trust me, I’ll just drop the pretense of dignity and start begging—”

  “Cyn . . .”

  She pulled her hands away and wrapped them around herself, a hysterical smile distorting her face. “Who knows? Maybe I can get used to it. I mean, seven years and I rarely see any of the murders. I mostly just hear about them from Lucas and if I’m very lucky, see the photos in the newspaper—”

  “Cyn.” I took her wrist and shook her. When her eyes snapped to my face, I heard myself say, “I will help you. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  She stared at me, wide-eyed, and emitted a single moan of relief. She opened her arms to me, and sensing eminent breakdown, I caught her as she collapsed into tears, sobbing like it was rinsing something out of her. I was crying a little, too, as a rough picture of the horrors she faced formed in my mind.

  “Where is she? Your daughter?”

  She sniffled violently, her breath coming in uneven heaves. “With Lucas. Back there. That’s why they didn’t even have to follow me here. They knew I’d come back. They have everything that’s important to me. They have all the cards.”

  I smoothed the hair from her face as her tears crested and then slowed to a painful shiver. We sat huddled together on the mattress, neither of us speaking for a long moment. A dark look had settled across her brow, and beneath it, a scowl that looked well-worn-in. I imagined her wearing that face, pacing a balcony at night, cigarette in hand, waiting for headlights to appear on the road. Waiting for her husband to come home, only to let the worry begin anew the next day. I tried to put myself in her position, and my mind recoiled in horror. If that was her life, she was right to call it a nightmare.

  “Tell me about her. Glorianna.”

  The hard lines strafing Cyn’s brow softened. “She’s a wonder. She’s very cheerful and she loves birds and animals and is a complete daddy’s girl. Wants to follow him everywhere. We’re teaching her to swim.”

  “Just like her namesake,” I remarked.

  Cyn smiled and, after a moment’s hesitation, opened her purse. She fished out a cheap clamshell cell phone and pulled up a photo. “She was born with this curly, reddish hair. No idea where it came from. That’s when I knew for sure what to name her.” She stared at the image on the screen as if reluctant to look away, and then handed it to me. “I only brought this one, and even carrying it makes me nervous. I’ve kept our lives off the Internet as much as possible. The less identifiable we are, the better our chances of getting away. Lucas wanted me to bring her with me, but it wasn’t allowed. I think they smelled a rat.”

  I looked at the grainy image on the phone. A small girl with dark copper hair squatted on a lawn, one pudgy arm extended toward a kitten. Glorianna’s face was in profile, and her mouth was open, frozen in a squeal of delight. I felt the corners of my mouth rise in response, and handed the phone back, feeling my cheeks burn under Cyn’s gaze.

  “Are you and Raj planning—”

  I cut her off. “We need to approach this delicately.”

  “I know.”

  “The fact that you were personally working for the cartel makes it difficult.”

  “We know everything about their organization. That has to be worth something.”

  “I would think so, but I don’t know. This really isn’t what I do.”

  “I know you’ll do your best.”

  I felt a shiver of recognition. She had said the same words, in the exact same way, to McMurphy in one of the videos.

  “They’ll probably put you into hiding. You’ll go dark.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  She put her phone away and sighed. Stretching her legs out toward the empty seats, she reached for the pack of smokes, offering me one.

  As she lit up, she sighed. “So Raj hates me, doesn’t he?”

  There was no reason to lie. Whatever veil she had drawn between us was lifting, and the look on her face said she already knew exactly how Raj felt. It reminded me at once of how eerie their connection had been. Long-suppressed memories of watching them argue some metaphysical abstraction, the heat rising as they parried like fencers, making points that I struggled to follow, crawled out from the past to wound me. The intimacy of that connection was why I’d so feared their becoming lovers. She was already sharing with him so many things I couldn’t, even if I tried my best. I hated to even remember it because it so stirred my jealousies, but Raj and Cyn had had something special.

  “He doesn’t exactly trust you.”

  “In light of everything that happened, I was glad that you and I had that talk at the hostel, about everything. I hope it made it easier for you guys.” She paused. “I would have liked the chance to apologize to him. But there on the street, I just couldn’t. Tell him I’m sorry.”

  “Tell him you’re sorry for what?”

  “For how it ended. He didn’t deserve it. I warned him I was sick.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Her eyes searched me, and she allowed the slightest flicker of surprise to wash acro
ss her features. She flicked her wrist in the air as if shooing a fly or, perhaps, dismissing a servant.

  “It’s nothing, really. I was cruel to him before we left on our little adventure. I’ve felt guilty about it all this time. How did he take it when you told him I planned to break up with him?”

  I tapped my cigarette on the tin can, though there was nothing yet to ash. “I never told him.”

  “You what?” she leaned forward, her blue eyes aghast.

  “You were dead. Why would I tell? It would only hurt him.”

  “But what about you? Telling him might have helped you.”

  “How? I don’t hurt people I love for no reason.”

  “It wouldn’t have been for no reason for Raj. I thought I’d done all I could to kill our relationship before we left, but even that didn’t work. The poor bastard’s probably been carrying a torch for me all this time.”

  I looked at the floor, feeling the heat rise into my face.

  “Sometimes you have to hurt people to help them see the truth. It’s not the same as being cruel for no reason.” Her tone grated on me, as if she were this wise woman and I, a naive child.

  “Was that your technique with Ryan McMurphy? Is he drinking himself to death due to one of your acts of kindness?” I felt her eyes on me but couldn’t look at her. “Since we’re being all brave and honest and kind, I should tell you: I know about the videos.”

  She stiffened. “What videos?”

  “He recorded all your video . . .” I struggled to find the appropriate word, “sessions. He showed me one.”

  She looked away. “I told you, I was desperate.”

  “Yeah, well. You’re always desperate, aren’t you?”

  She flinched like I had slapped her.

  “I don’t expect you to understand the choices I’ve made, and I’m not asking you to. You haven’t lived my life. You have no idea what it’s cost me just to stay alive. And you’re right, I may be desperate, but I’m not ashamed. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for my family.”

  “Does your husband—”

  She cut me off. “My husband is a fiercely proud man, but I have no doubt that he would have slept with McMurphy himself if it meant Glorianna could be free. She is innocent, and she deserves better. Maybe someday you’ll understand that when your back is against the wall, there is little you won’t do to save the ones you love.”

  “I already know that.”

  “No, Glo, you don’t.”

  Her eyes were burning. She was talking about the island.

  “I was scared,” I said.

  “I was scared, too.”

  When I mustered the courage to look up again, she smiled at me through her anger, a quick, sad smile. She had been my best friend, my sister by choice, and I had let her down in the biggest way possible. I had come in to the theater wanting an apology, but now I realized that wasn’t what needed to happen at all.

  “I’m sorry I left you that night.”

  She inhaled. “Thank you, Glo. That means a lot to me.”

  “It’s haunted me . . .” I heard my voice thicken and break.

  “Glo. It’s okay. I know you’re sorry, but don’t be. Not anymore. There really was no right decision.”

  My vision went blurry under a gush of stealth tears. The relief I felt was beyond anything I expected. “I just wish—”

  There was a subtle pressure change in the room, paired with a quick intrusion of street noise as the theater door quickly opened and shut. My tongue collapsed in my mouth like a popped tire.

  Cyn clamped her hand onto my wrist and squeezed. “I thought I’d locked it,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fright. She pulled me to my feet and opened one of the set doors, which I knew did not lead anywhere at all. It was too late. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a man enter the auditorium.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Raj

  “Convincing as it looks, that door doesn’t go anywhere, ladies,” I said.

  Glo spun around to face me while Cyn remained halfway hidden behind the false wall.

  “What are you doing here?” Glo demanded.

  “Sorry, I thought this was my theater company.”

  “It’s past three. Shouldn’t you be onstage?”

  I sauntered down the steps, playing it cool. Cyn had emerged from behind the set and was watching me, her head lowered like a lioness tracking prey.

  “I thought that maybe this was more important. They’re going to fire me anyway.”

  “What!” Glo exclaimed. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. I’m not. Call me crazy, but I thought it was worth losing one acting job to make sure you were safe. Hello, Cyn.”

  I took a seat in the first row of chairs, where I usually sat if I was directing, and crossed my legs. I was trying very hard to appear at ease, but sweat was already dotting my forehead.

  “Hello,” she responded, her tone battling mine for the low end of the thermometer.

  “How the hell did you know I was here?” Glo was half shouting. “Did you follow me?”

  “Ted called me. I asked him last week to give me a heads-up if your ghostly best friend manifested at the bar.” Both women were glaring at me, and honestly, it felt great. I was burning my whole world down in a single day. It was the only way forward. “So, what did I miss? Are you besties again? Is she moving in with us?”

  “Raj—” Glo began.

  “You look right onstage, Cyn. You always were my favorite actress. You look really good on film, too.” I winked at her. I had never had the occasion to mine the true depths of my dickishness, and I found the waters were deep.

  I saw her face go white. She took a step toward me. She knew exactly what I was talking about, just as I knew she would.

  “Did you really think so, Raj?”

  “Yes. I enjoyed many of your performances. Your costar, not so much. I would have recast him. Too desperate.”

  I saw Glo step backward, toward the wall. Her face was blank with shock. She was still too stunned to be disgusted with me.

  Cyn cast a look over her shoulder at Glo, and turned back to me. I saw something working behind her eyes, and my heart began to accelerate.

  “And what exactly did you like about the videos, Raj?”

  “Seeing you. Seeing you for what you really are. It was . . . a relief.”

  She nodded, and paused, coyly slipping one foot out of her shoe and using it to casually scratch her calf, like some exotic bird. “And what am I?”

  I let the question hang in the air as she lowered herself to a seated position at the edge of the stage. There was four feet of dead space between us. Her eyes glimmered challengingly in the low light, each blink an unspoken dare.

  “A whore.”

  Glo exhaled. A second later, Cyn’s throaty laughter filled the silence.

  “Oh, Raj, is that really the best you can do? Don’t forget, I’ve been called that in five languages all across the national press.”

  “It’s the right term, though, isn’t it? You use people. You’re using Glo because you know she’s got a soft spot for you. You use your body to get men to do what you want. You did it with McMurphy, and you did it with me.”

  “And what did I want from you, Raj?”

  She was mocking me. I felt a rush of anger and confusion.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Love. I wanted your love.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. But I gave up on that dream when it became clear that all you wanted from me was sex. And when I finally gave it to you after your months of pathetic, ceaseless begging, the light went out of your eyes. You were disappointed.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. But I know it wasn’t my failing. I was a practiced, ­professional-grade whore by then. Did you know that?”<
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  I could see a fucking twinkle in her eye. She knew that Glo hadn’t told me. She knew, and she thought it was funny. I stood and moved toward her, like she was an electromagnet, sucking me out of my seat.

  “You think it’s funny?”

  “I do. I think it’s a very funny joke. I think your feelings for me were always a joke. Always more about you and what you needed and what you could get out of me. And for what? Your silly little ego. Do you remember those last nights we spent together?”

  I stared at her, unable to speak.

  “All those things you let me do to you? Well, here’s a secret: I didn’t enjoy it. I thought maybe if we fucked enough I might feel something real, but you just couldn’t turn it on for me. I was faking all of it, every moan, every orgasm, just like you were any other sad, pathetic john.”

  She smiled at me with vicious sweetness, and then next thing I knew, my hands were around her throat. I wasn’t squeezing, I know that. Through a great force of will, I kept them relaxed, but I felt the hot flesh of her neck against my palms and the delicate contours of her windpipe, so vulnerable in my grasp. What a glory it would be to squeeze. I felt a rumble beneath my hands and realized she was speaking.

  Glo was shouting so loudly that I could barely hear what Cyn was saying. She looked at me evenly, and there was no fear in her face. I leaned in closer so I could look her directly in the eye.

  “Do it!” she urged as the tears began pooling in the corner of her eyes. “Do it. I’d rather die by the hands of someone I once loved than by some hired thug.”

  The fierce certainty of her words shocked me out of my rage tunnel, and I pulled my hands from her as if scorched. Glo’s arms were around my neck, yanking me backward. I stumbled and fell against the seats, landing hard on the floor.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Glo was shouting. I cowered as she came dangerously close to kicking me, opting instead for the seat beside my head. “You put your hands on her goddamn neck? Who the fuck are you? What kind of person does that?”

  “It’s okay,” Cyn said. “He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

  “Yeah? It sure didn’t look that way to me! And what the fuck is wrong with you? Do it? Do it, Raj? So he can go to jail for the rest of his life? You’re both fucking crazy people!”