“Anything you take is at your own risk. You might need proof. Protect it. Your own files are yours to keep or destroy, but I invite you to burn them,” said Sterling, pouring herself a drink.
Verena tucked a Polaroid into her purse, giving Sterling aWhat are you going to do about it?look. She prowled to the fireplace, folder in hand, and tossed her own file into the flames.
Mr. K lifted Verena’s hand, and hovered a kiss over it. The approvingcrinkle in his eyes wordlessly welcomed her to the family. Rita rubbed Verena’s shoulders affectionately, flashing her dentures. Fernando kissed Verena’s cheeks, then passed her into Sterling’s open arms for a tight, tearful embrace that fell to giggles. They were burning the last of that bitch’s hold on them.
Sterling’s chest felt lighter, sure, but worry stuck to her like a stain liquor couldn’t wash away. Weiss was gone, true. But there were things she couldn’t get back. She tried to focus on something else—washing glasses behind the bar. The hurt would fade. It always did.
Rita walked over. “You thinking about Miss Hedy?”
Sterling sniffled, unable to answer.
“Come here, girl,” said Rita, dragging Sterling into a hug. The lotion on her arms made their skin cling together.
It became an unofficial ceremony, a cremation of secrets. Women took what they dared and burned what they didn’t, then paid their respects to the Hotel employees. After the last paper curled in the fire, Fernando demanded music, and Maximilian obliged. Following a quick word from their sponsor, he introduced an hour of upbeat swing. Rita sang along.
The moonlit evening brimmed with promise. They drank top-shelf liquor and swayed to old songs, rejoicing in a new age.
Sterling and Mr. K watched, clinking glasses. Fernando declined their offer of a drink.
“I have a busy weekend,” he said.
“Ah, yes, your big show tomorrow. Break a leg,” said Mr. K.
Fernando furrowed his brow. “It’s only an audition. How’d you know about it?”
Mr. K cocked his head towards Sterling.
“I might have exaggerated, but the part’s basically yours already,” she said.
“Next time, keep your mouth shut.”
Verena dragged Fernando to the dance floor. Mr. K sipped his penicillin cocktail, eyeing the crowd over the rim. “So, this is who we’ve entrusted with Vienna’s deepest secrets.”
“They can handle it.”
The crowd whooped. Glass shattered.
“Oida.”
He bent to Sterling’s eye level, cheeks rosy. At the Eden Bar, his drinking was for show. He’d carry a glass whose level never lowered or take shots of water from his special bottle of tequila. Not tonight. “From what I gathered at the trial, you were tied up here at the time of the arrest, right? So how’d you get those files from Madame’s office?”
“You’re a surprisingly cheap drunk, boss,” she said, evading the question by luring him onto the dance floor with only a fingertip pressed under his chin. He followed, grinning.
She handed him off to another woman for a dance.
Sterling leaned against the wall and sighed. No one knew how she got her hands on those files. Except two Austrian detectives who’d just closed their biggest case.
Rita shuffled over. “What’s this about Fernando performing? Don’t tell me Christoph’s involved,” she said, her voice gruff.
“I don’t like your tone, young lady,” said Sterling. “Yes. Fernando’s auditioning at Christoph’s theater on Sunday.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And I’ve arranged for a full audience. He’ll love it.”
Rita tutted in disapproval.
Sterling crossed her arms. “Hey, I’d have invited you, but last time you and Christoph were together, it didn’t go well. This is Fernando’s big moment. I want it to be special.”
“Why not wait for his show?” asked Rita.
Because she’d seen him rehearse and wasn’t convinced there’d be one. Sterling sucked her lips between her teeth and lifted her brows, relaying Rita the message.
