Split
< < "You're sure?"
"Yeah. Go ahead. I just need to rest."
"Okay," Noel said. "We'll say a prayer for you."
"Thanks," Angela said before turning back over and covering her head up with the sheet.
Pretending to be sick came easily for Angela. Especially since it wasn't really pretending. The thought of sitting in church between Ricky and Noel Aquino after what had happened last night set her to trembling and sweating.
I can't believe I put my hand *there*.
I can't believe he was just standing there in the dark, watching me in bed while I...
Her whole body shuddered again.
The more she thought about things between her and Noel, the more they added up to something she couldn't handle. It wasn't just her imagination. Noel Aquino didn't just see her as a girl in trouble, or his son's girlfriend, or a girl who was young enough to be his daughter.
Noel Aquino saw her as a woman. An attractive woman. And he was beginning to act on it.
Worst of all, Angela wasn't sure what to make of it. Of course it was creepy -- he *was* old enough to be her dad, and his son was her boyfriend -- but at the same time, everything else she knew about him said he was a solid, responsible, caring, generous, good man. He had all the qualities her mom had always told her to look for in a guy.
But then, so did Ricky. And two years younger was more appropriate than two decades older.
God, I can't believe I'm even thinking about this. It's so wrong.
I can't do this to Ricky.
And I can't do this to Noel. I mean, Mr. Aquino.
He was right. She *had* been provoking him. Not on purpose! But still... considering everything, how could he not notice her?
Noticing and acting on it are two different things. He should know better.
But is it even his fault?
Is it even real?
Or am I just imagining it?
She felt so out-of-sorts. The Xanax messed her up, maybe even worse than her sapphires did.
What's real?
I need help.
"Hello, Dr. Ward? It's Angela. Angela Barrett. I really need to talk to you. Please. It's an emergency."
The wide red door opened to reveal a tall woman, blinking with the brightness of early morning. Her black-and-red silk kimono robe and kitten-heel slippers contrasted with her severe Nordic features. White-blonde spiky hair showed more bed-head than its length should have allowed. That and the strong smell from her coffee mug confirmed that she'd been sound asleep when Angela'd called.
"I'm sorry I called so early on Sunday, Dr. Ward. It's just that I don't know what to do."
"That's okay," she said, even though her yawn-lined face indicated otherwise. "Come in."
Angela stepped into the foyer. "To the right; sit anywhere," Dr. Ward gestured.
The room was bigger than she expected judging from the outside. A vaulted ceiling yielded a high wall decorated with an orderly series of Asian calligraphy scrolls; the whole room had an Asian feel to it, with black-lacquer framed padded chairs and a matching couch, box-kite lamps in the corners, and a pair of ornately-decorated balls set in an open velvet-lined box on the coffee table.
Angela sat on the couch -- it seemed appropriate -- and nervously eyed the two spheres. Their green-and-gold marbled surface was interrupted by that large black-and-white swirly symbol she saw on a lot of Asian-inspired stuff -- Ying-Yang, she thought it was called. They stared up at her like a pair of disembodied eyes.
On the way to the far chair, Dr. Ward drew a long loud sip from her coffee, suffering scalding hotness for the benefit of caffeine. "So," she said, almost snippy, "what's on your mind?"
"I think Noel Aquino likes me."
"Well, of course he likes you, Angela."
Sigh.
"I mean, *likes* me."
Dr. Ward blinked, startled.
"Oh." Another long sip, then the steaming mug found the edge of the coffee table. "Go on."
What to say? That was it, really. The Problem. "I don't know what to do about it."
Dr. Ward's fingers massaged her brow for a long minute. Then, a deep breath, and a sigh. "It's a serious accusation."
Accusation?
The word made Angela consider implications. Noel Aquino was a police officer. Father. Church-goer. Widower. Just saying it out loud would send shock waves along all four planes. It *was* an accusation.
But that didn't make it any less true.
"He changed his sheets." Angela remembered the open window. The look on Noel's face. It was obvious. "I heard him... talking about me."
"Go on."
It was hard to. When Angela closed her eyes, the images came fast and furious. Sapphire hovering outside a window. Noel under a sheet. Angela with him.
"He watched me while I was... I was dreaming." A dark figure in the shadows. Listening. While in her fantasy her lover shifted. What did she say?
"You mean while you were masturbating."
"Yes." Angela squeezed her eyes shut, but this only made the images more intense.
She listened to her own breathing. It didn't help. Dr. Ward looked at her, tired and impatient. And... something else.
"Do you think of him when you masturbate?"
No. Yes. But not because she wanted to. She didn't want to. Did she? "No. Not on purpose."
"Angela..."
"There's more," she blurted.
Another sip of coffee. "All right." Legs uncrossed and recrossed. Angela noticed Dr. Ward was very fit for her age. How old was she? Late thirties? Noel's age.
"He came to work." To scold her. "He commented on my clothes." Which he'd paid for. Which he'd noticed. More than she did, apparently.
Dr. Ward took a deep breath. "Angela, it's clear you don't really want to talk about this." She looked off toward the hallway.
"I don't, but I have to. Before it gets worse." Before Noel goes further? Or before her imagination goes too far?
Angela's breathing came fast. She'd taken a pill before she came over -- she never would have made it otherwise -- but still there was an edge to the room.
"Last night," Angela said, her words both hurried and halting, "we were watching a movie, and... when I, accidentally, accidentally put my hand on his... in his lap, he was... it was hard."
Her clothes were suddenly too tight. Too warm in the room.
"Accidentally."
"Of course!"
"It's okay, Angela. I'm not here to judge you." Then why did it sound that way? Why did it *feel* that way?
"Angela."
"What?"
"Sometimes it helps to talk." Said curtly.
How long had she been quiet?
"Sorry. It's not just specific things, it's more like a feeling. Being around him makes me really uncomfortable lately."
"Why, do you think?"
Angela looked out the window. "Because I don't know how he feels about me."
A memory of Noel's stern voice jumped at her. "If you don't want people to check you out, don't put yourself on display."
And another. "I'm a man, too, and a man can only take so much temptation."
All the clothes she'd bought. She'd bought and he'd paid for. Would her mom approve of the things she wore if she was still here? She wouldn't have made her change, well, not most of the time, but...
Her cheeks burned red. She was the one who was uncomfortable. Why was she being made to feel like it was her fault? Was it?
Dr. Ward seemed tense. "What do you think of Mr. Aquino?"
Angela remembered Noel coming to her defense in the aftermath of the Labor Day Incident.
She remembered the way Noel had held her, naked and sobbing in the police interrogation room.
She remembered how he'd called her by his dead wife's name.
She remembered her dream. When her fantasy lover had become Noel. It jolted her now as it had before.
She remembered him staring at her breasts at work.
She remembered his hardness.
No! Stop it!
"He's a good man," she managed.
"Yes, he is. It's only natural that a girl like you would find herself attracted to him."
There was something about the way Dr. Ward said it that was very sympathetic.
"Angela, let me ask you something. When you're deciding what to wear, do you think about how people will react?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess." Who didn't at least a little bit? Was Dr. Ward saying it was her fault? She certainly didn't dress just to get Noel's attention. Except that one time, to make a point. Which was pretty stupid. And why Noel said he came to her work to talk to her. To tell her to stop teasing him. To stare at her.
Angela closed her eyes tightly to squeeze out the memory. When she opened them, she was looking down at the coffee table. She couldn't look at Dr. Ward.
The marble orbs on the table stared at her. Judging. Condemning.
But it wasn't all in her head! It wasn't her fault. Noel had invited her to live with him.
He was thinking about her.
He was looking at her.
But hadn't her behavior prompted him to?
"Angela, take a step back and see Noel for who he is. He's a father of someone close to your age. He's also lost someone very close to him. Professionally he's seen what can happen to young women in similar circumstances. He's concerned -- as a parent, as a public servant, as a human being. And I'm sure you understand how he might feel certain biological urges, especially considering your resemblance to his late wife... and considering the way you dress."
Dr. Ward's next words were abrupt and unexpected.
"Noel Aquino is not interested in you romantically." Dr. Ward put her hands on her thighs. Still. Tense. "He can't be."
He can't be.
Even if he wanted to.
"Think about it, Angela."
Angela shook her head. She wanted Dr. Ward to be right, but she also didn't. It meant everything was her fault.
"Angela, has he touched you?"
"No."
"Said anything inappropriate?"
"No."
"Asked you to talk about things that made you uncomfortable?"
"No." Each question was like another door slammed.
"The things you've told me, can you think of any other explanation?"
Sure, but... she knew. She knew about the sheets. And the rest of it.
But even so, was that his fault? She pushed him. Even if she didn't mean to.
She didn't mean to, did she?
"Angela?"
"I guess."
Angela clasped her hands, locking them under her chin. She rocked back and forth slowly as guilt ping-ponged in her mind.
"Angela, know I take this very seriously. But you have to be careful. What you've been through can change your perspective on a lot of things. We've talked about that before. You can't let it get away from you. If something's happening that you're not comfortable with, tell him. If you can't, tell me. But make sure you're clear. I don't want anyone to get hurt."
"I know." Angela crossed her arms. She suddenly realized how uncomfortable she was here. This was Dr. Ward's home. Angela shouldn't be here.
She had to go.
"You're right." She stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Ward." Her mind squeezed for control over the jagged regret that was trying to break her down. "I'm okay now. I'll go. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Dr. Ward stood slowly, smoothing her robe, as if brushing the issue's crumbs off her. Finishing it. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Angela found that dull gray Xanax center and willed herself to stay there. "Yeah. I'll be more careful about stuff." She forced herself to walk slowly toward the front door.
"Good."
"Don't tell Noel about this."
"Of course not." Dr. Ward smiled as the door closed between them.
Angela started to run toward her car.
I have to go.
"This is Jason."
"Mr. Truman?"
"Angela, hi. Listen, I'm right in the middle of something, can I call you back?"
"Umm, oh-okay..." Her voice broke. A trembling hand moved to put the receiver back on the cradle; she started to cry again.
"Wait! Angela! Don't hang up!" The voice was tinny but audible. Angela put the phone back to her ear.
"Y-yeah?" she sobbed.
"Angela, what's wrong?"
"I didn't mean to buh-bother you. I'm sorreee..."
"Shh, shhhh. Angela, it's okay. Tell me what's wrong."
She told him. It all came pouring out, a running mess of emotion. She didn't know what all she said, or how much he was able to understand.
"Did he touch you?"
"No! Why would you say that?"
"Angela, it's okay. You're sure he didn't touch you."
"Mr. Truman, he's not like that. That's just it. I made it all up in my head. It's all my fault."
"Shhh. It's not your fault. It's okay. Now, is there anyone you can call?"
"N-No... that's why I called you. I wouldn't have called you if there was anybody else. I'm sorry, Mr. Truman, I don't know what to do."
"Good. That you called me, I mean. I'm limited in what I can do on Sunday. Let me make a few calls and see what I can arrange."
"Okay." She sniffled. "Um, is it okay if I call you? Collect?"
He hesitated a moment, then understood -- she was already out of the house. "Sure. You sure you're okay?"
"I will be."
Trembling fingers folded the breakfast sandwich wrapper into a little square. The drive-through line went all the way around the building, but inside there was only a couple of construction workers and an old man. The old man sneaked twice as many peeks in her direction as the construction workers. She thought again about going out to the car for a sweatshirt, but it would have been one of Ricky's, and getting just a faint scent of him would only depress her more.
It's probably been long enough.
Angela walked as non-chalantly as she could around the corner to the bathrooms and out the side door where there was a payphone outside. Somebody honked; she turned to see some guy staring at her. She turned her back emphatically as she dialed Truman's number.
"This is Jason Truman."
"It's Angela."
"Okay. The only thing I could find right now is the Nomadic Arms Apartments on Great Oaks. Do you know it?"
"No..."
"Go north, it's a few miles, the manager said there's a big sign right out on the sidewalk."
"O-okay." That wasn't the best part of town, but... any place was better than here.
"Relax. It's not so bad. It's just for a few days, until something better opens up, okay?"
Angela tried not to cry. "Thank you, Mr. Truman. I don't mean to be so much trouble..."
"Shh. It's for the best. You need your own space. Anyway, it'll motivate me to get your problem taken care of sooner." He didn't fake enthusiasm very well, but she appreciated the attempt. "I'll call you there when I have an update. Is there anything else you need?"
Yeah. She needed him to tell her that things weren't going to get any worse.
> > The dressing room was deserted -- as it should have been at one in the afternoon. The club didn't open until six.
Angela had come early to make sure she still had a job. Surely Dino hadn't meant what he'd said last night. It was scary how far he'd gone with Kostya, and with Luke -- but why do that if he was just going to cut her loose? It didn't make sense. Well, she'd just play it cool for a while. Give Dino some space. Pretend it didn't happen, just be a good employee. She couldn't let Dino just throw her out on her ear -- she'd come too far and sacrificed too much to stop now. Besides, she needed the money.
And she needed more Perfectua. She'd hoped someone at the club would know where to get more -- anywhere but Skeeter.
There was a sparse crew of people in the other parts of the club -- busy cleaning and prepping -- but nobody she really knew.
So Angela killed time by trying a different makeup look -- some warmer colors. She needed to put a little distance between her stage persona and her Sapphire persona -- not that she was afraid of anyone making the connection, but when she looked in the mirror she wanted to remember who she was supposed to be.
A strange ringing sound startled her. It was coming from her purse.
So that's what my phone sounds like.
The display showed Miguel's number.
Great.
"Don't call me here."
"It's a mobile phone. I don't know where 'here' is, baby."
"I'm at work."
Miguel didn't seem to care. "Get anything last night?"
"No."
"What happened?"
"I'm at work," Angela repeated.
"I heard you the first time. What, is someone there?"
"The reason I didn't get your call, sweetheart, is that the people I was with think it's rude to have a cell phone at the dinner table. And I can see their point."
"Damn, Moroshkin's a paranoid fuck, isn't he? Bet he doesn't know his own boy's taping him, though. Speaking of, did you get it?" Dino's MP3 player.
"No."
"Why the hell not? Weren't you at his place last night?"
"No."
"What, did he have a better offer? You can't be playing hard to get with a guy like that."
"So I've been told," Angela said dryly.
"Well, get with the fucking program. And I mean that literally."
"You're such a sweet talker."
"Listen, babe, I need that player to make the case. And I need you to be close to him so you can tell me when and where the party is?"
"What party?"
"The meet. When Dino and his buyer exchange cars for cash."
Angela momentarily forgot where she was. "I suppose you're gonna want me to slap the cuffs on, too."
"Hey, babe, drop the attitude. There's a whole lot of stuff going on that you don't know about. You got the easy part."
"Somehow I doubt that."
"Just get it done. Call me when you have something."
"Yeah, okay."
Click.
The voice from the doorway behind her nearly made Angela jump out of her skin.
"Why are you here?"
Sasha always sounded like a robot. An angry robot.
Angela's heart hammered away. He doesn't mean what I think he means, does he? She tried to play it cool, giving him the briefest glance before going back to working on her eyelashes. "I just came in early to try some things."
"You should not be here today."
"Well I'm on the schedule." She knew. Her hands were trembling; she put down the mascara and grabbed her hairbrush; brushing her hair always calmed her.
"I talked to Dino."
That was all he said. She could feel him staring at her, but she wouldn't look. She kept her eyes locked on her own mirror image, pulling the brush all the way through her long straight black hair, from scalp to ends, taking a deep breath with every other stroke, fighting the urge to pull harder and faster. If she just didn't look at him, if she just pretended hard enough, maybe he wouldn't be there. Maybe it wasn't happening.
"Angela, stop."
Pulling the brush, tilting her head, straining her neck, hurting her scalp, pulling the brush, gripping it tighter and tighter, pulling the brush, snapping it free, again, and again, and again, pulling it through, smoother and smoother, harder and harder, faster and faster, again and again and-
"STOP!"
Sasha's iron grip froze her wrist in mid-stroke. She tugged down with all her strength, but the Russian's thick arm just shivered.
"Stop," he said again, his voice gentler than she'd ever heard it.
She stopped struggling. The mirror blurred with her tears. When he let go of her arm, it fell limply to her side, hairbrush sliding from slack fingers to thump softly to the carpet.
Angela's chest rose and fell with deep, forceful breath. She felt the tug of sobbing with every rise and fall.
For a long time, nothing else happened.
When she thought she wasn't going to lose control anymore, she started moving. Picking up her brush. Putting her makeup away. Finding her bag. Hands moved on their own, working mostly by touch, taking few cues from blurred vision. She stood up and turned around, eyes avoiding Sasha, trying to focus on the back corner where her few outfits were hanging. Not that she thought she'd need them, but it was important not to leave anything behind. She wanted to erase herself from this place.
The straps of her one pair of clear heels caught on the clasp of her bag; she couldn't get them free. She pulled harder and harder, up and down and sideways; her quaking fingers couldn't find the problem. When Sasha's thick fingers settled on hers, she just gave up. He put them gently in her bag. "There," he said. He patted her shoulder; she felt his awkwardness, unsure of how hard or soft or where to do it, as if adapting a manly gesture to a woman for the first time. It was somehow more comforting that way.
"Bruno will drive you home, okay?"
She nodded.
His hand took hers; he put something in it. An envelope. She could tell by feel it had money in it. "You will be fine."
Bruno had trouble with her seat.
Angela sighed. "I can drive myself."
"He told me to drive you." He crept forward and then pushed back again.
"That's as far back as it goes," she said.
For once, the car started on the first attempt.
Angela waited for Bruno to say something. He wasn't just going to drive her home in total silence, was he? She needed an explanation. It didn't make any sense. Of course, nothing about Dino Sinclair really made any sense from the moment she met him. He was his own evil twin.
"Why is he doing this?"
Bruno just grunted.
"Bruno, please. Talk to me." Angela's voice was on the verge of breaking.
They stopped at a red light. Bruno looked over at her -- hard. Why was he angry?
"Dino's my friend." The sentence hung in the air; when it had gathered enough weight, Bruno continued. "I've known him a long time. But he's... different now. With most things, he's stronger. But with you..."
The light turned green; the car stumbled and then lurched forward.
"...You trouble him."
"I don't mean to."
"Well, you do. He looks at you like he's known you before. You scare him, and you make him fearless. It's a bad place for him to be."
So he was punishing her for some past love lost? "That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair. We are who we've been. He can't be someone else. So just leave him alone."
"Bruno, at least help me understand. Why would he put himself at risk for me just to send me away? It doesn't make any sense."
"He's not doing it for you. He's doing it for himself. Look at what he's done already. If he sees you again... you could get him killed. Or worse."
Bruno's elbow smacked the side window when he tried to reach the turn-signal stalk; he muttered something in Russian.
They were pulling into her apartment lot. She waited for him to stop and look at her. "I didn't ask him to go against Kostya for me. I didn't ask him to protect me."
"I didn't either. Look, he forgot who he was for a while. Now he remembers. It sucks, but it is what it is. Deal with it."
"He doesn't have to protect me. I'm not afraid of Kostya, or his stupid rule about relationships."
Bruno raised an eyebrow. "You should be."
"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
"Then do it. Go take your clothes off at some other club and toy with the heart of some other dangerous man."He shut off the engine and tossed the keys in her lap. The door creaked like it would come off in his hand. A limo-tinted little BMW in the corner of the lot came to life and buzzed across the lot, stopping with a chirp behind Angela's car; Bruno got in and rolled down the window.
"Leave Dino alone." It was a warning. "You've done enough to him already."