No one knows where I am.
But Hawk and Vinnie are smart, cunning.They’ll figure it out.If I give them enough time.
He stands and reaches for the matchbox again.
Candle three.
He pauses with the match on fire and looks at me.
And I see it—the way his mouth softens.
This is a man who is a master of his art.Who believes good food can change the world.If I told him this dish healed a wound, he’d believe me.
The match touches the wick.
The flame hisses to life.
Three.
Three flames burn.
I fold my hands in my lap so he can’t see them shake.The knife against my thigh sits cool, giving me courage.
If I never make it out of this basement, at least I’ve done one thing right.I’ve bought minutes.I’ve made him talk.I’ve made himwait.
“Ready?”he asks softly.“For the fourth course?”
Performance.
He’s after performance.
“Always,” I say, and I smile like a woman with all the time in the world.
