“Can we watch a movie?” There’s a big screen on one wall that slides out so we can lean back on the couches and watch comfortably without craning our necks. I didn’t use it last time, because we were busy going over our cover story, but I really wanted to.
“Sure, what should we watch? I’ve got all the streaming platforms, and the staff keep a selection of downloaded films, too.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Action/adventure?” Kira asks, like maybe she didn’t hear me. “Horror? Comedy? Romance?” She teases the last one, like I’m supposed to say ‘no way!’.
“Whatever you want. Really. I’ll watch anything. I like movies, but I haven’t watched one in a long time.”
She studies me, a ghost of her uncle’s bad staring habit in her behavior, before she hums and grabs the remote. “We’ll narrow it down together. Okay?”
I sigh. “Do you have a movie you like to watch when you want to feel better? When you just want to feel good?”
She hesitates, and I keep my eyes on the screen. I feel her watching me, curious and maybe pitying. “Yeah, Tommy. I think I know just the thing.”
Chapter 10
Young-gi
My laptop warms my legs, the cursor blinking over an empty cell on the spreadsheet; numbers stack up in orderly lines across my screen. Some of them are from my legitimate businesses, others are baked in after being laundered somewhere else. I’ve got some massaging to do on these accounts so they won’t raise suspicion, and to make sure no one’s fucking stealing from me again.
But, instead of thinking about thieves and rats, I’m letting my cursor blink, blink, blink until the screen goes dark because I can’t stop watching Tommy.
He and Kira are curled up together on the sofa, the jet’s engine a soft roar that forces them to turn the volume on their movie a little louder than I prefer. I almost ask them to turn it down several times, but then I look at Tommy…
Fucking Tommy, who’s not at all romantically involved with Kira.
Tommy, who’s watching Forrest Gump like it’s a cinematic masterpiece the likes of which he’s never seen. He’s got a habit of scrunching his nose and tilting his head when he laughs, a startled sound like he’s not expecting to find the movie funny. And when he hears a line he likes, he mouths it silently to himself, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.
Tommy.Tommy.
The last time I felt this way, my sister had just died.
Wait, no, that’s not quite right.
That was grief. This is… something else. But whatever emotion is having its way with me right nowfeelsthe same as that moment. How? Well, both feelings left me reeling, likesomeone just plucked something from my head and now I’m trying to remember what it was, but it’s gone. Like I’m grasping at thin air.
No, that’s not right either.
Ah, wait, I think I know now. Both feelings brought me up short and made me ask myself…Well fuck, what do I do now?
Which is ridiculous, because I alreadyknowwhat to do about Tommy being Kira’s fake, gay boyfriend. And the solution is basically the same as before–the ‘real’ fiancé just becomes the ‘fake’ fiancé, and the engagement won’t end with a wedding but instead will eventually fade from public interest and quietly dissolve. In the end, this plan will still keep Tommy from the Vandmorson’s clutches, Kira will have another friend at her side to defend her, and I’ll get to keep Tommy close until I can figure out why the fuck I think about him so often.
Until I can figure out why he makes me think about art.
I watch as the icy awkwardness between him and Kira slowly begins to thaw. When he bites his lip and swallows hard at Forrest’s mother’s death, Kira notices, and she pats his hand. When he actually sheds a tear at Lieutenant Dan’s death, she laughingly gets him some tissues, and sits a little closer to him than before. She curls her legs under her, leaning on his arm, and watches the movie while texting her friends, but she glances up at Tommy more often, now. His hints of emotion–his unabashed, unashamed, self-deprecating tears when Forrest asks Jenny about their son–serves to endear him to Kira. By the time the credits roll, she’s relaxed enough that she’s fallen asleep, curled up in a little ball beside him, her chin tucked down against her chest.
Tommy, unblinking, watches the credits with his mouth hanging slightly open, like he can’t believe it’s over, or maybe like he’s trying to process what he watched.
I’ve seen the film. Multiple times, because Kira enjoys it.
But I’ve never felt any particular way about it, until just now, by watching Tommy watch the movie.
Just like before, when he made me understand art, I think I finally understand why Kira likes this goddamn film so much.
I haven’t doneanywork thisentiretime.
“Did you pay any attention to the movie?” Tommy’s sudden question, his voice quiet enough not to wake Kira, makes my heart speed up, and every synapse in my brain fires. I sift rapidly through my memories, trying to place this emotion. It feels like racing. Like running, but angrier. No, like chasing something. It feels like that time I caught a mole in my brotherhood, when I neatly trapped him in a net of lies. Like I’ve caught something.
