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Tired of pretending that Law didn’t work for people like Morris, I stood up from the radiator and headed toward the door. I took one last look at Law and said what had been weighing on me since the beginning, “I don’t get you, Law. You work for Morris. You’re a lobbyer. You aren’t a good guy, so why are you pretending to know them? Why are you pretending that you care? Like you said, you pity me.”
I sighed, turning to exit, when I heard a loud noise. I spun around to see that Law had kicked over a chair. His hair was a mess, but nothing compared to the wildness in his eyes.
“Fuck!” he said, running a hand through his crazed locks. “I’m not a lobbyist, Nami!”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I countered, eyeing the chair. I didn’t think Law would hurt me, but displays of aggression didn’t sit well with me.
Sighing, Law picked up the chair and put it back in its place. After a moment or two of arranging it so it was back in its place, Law sat down. I watched him with equal parts fascination and disdain. I didn’t trust Law at all. My trust for him went about as far as I trusted my cable company when they promised to keep my bill low. Still, watching him put that chair back in place was a bit…odd. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Law rubbed his middle finger, head low. I watched the ritual, entranced. Minutes passed as Law continued to rub his finger, the only sound the loud blasting of the hotel radiator as it turned on again. I remained standing, damned if I’d let him lull me into comfort.
“I worked for the FBI.” Law’s voice broke the monotony, but he still rubbed his middle finger.
I laughed. Okay, he got me. I wasn’t expecting that. “Seriously? You think I’ll believe that? Were you also a spy?”
“I worked in the human trafficking division. I quit about five years ago. I couldn’t…” Law paused and the rubbing ceased. Dead air, like the silence of a funeral procession, filled the room. Not even the sound of breathing could break it.
All at once he continued, “I just couldn’t keep losing. The girls and little boys…they all disappear. No matter how many leads we track down, they’re just gone. Right in our own fucking backyard, but still gone.”
I eyed him warily, head cocked slightly. Law wasn’t looking at me. Law wasn’t looking at anything. His eyes had glazed over and his brow furrowed, as if reliving some nightmare.
“I—” I started to speak, to argue that he was a liar, but Law coughed, interrupting me. He placed his hands on his knees and looked directly at me, as if the past few minutes hadn’t happened. As if I’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to, and he was trying to wipe the memory away.
“So, yeah. I can give you my old ID number and unit and you can look me up. It’s been five years but there are still plenty of people there that will remember me. And anyway, you can’t erase bureaucracy.” No, I thought bitterly, but bureaucracy can erase you.
“So why lobbying?” I countered. I wasn’t about to let Law’s confession—if that’s what it turned out to be—lull me into trusting him.
Shrugging, Law replied, “It was about as far away from my old life as I could get.”
“And why me?” I pressed.
Law stuttered. “What?”
“Why? Me?” I bit out the words. “Why are you fucking with my life?”
“I—”
I cut him off before he could respond. “What am I? Just some sick pet project to make you feel better about the fact that you couldn’t handle your job and now work for the devil?”
“No, Nami…” Law reached for me but I shoved him off.
“I’m sorry you had to see the horrors of the world firsthand, but I am not yours to fix. I’m not some missing girl you finally found. I’m not an…an archetype to help you find closure. I’m Nami fucking DeGrace and I’m a real fucking person.”
“I know that Nami.” Law stood up out of his chair and I noticed how intimidating he was. Not by stature or looks, but by presence. He was the type of man who filled a room, the type of man that made you back down. “How dare you accuse me of being anything but genuine toward you?”
“Are you?” I accused. “Are you really? Because what do you know about me other than that I was raped and taken advantage of by a senator? What’s my favorite color? What’s my favorite food? What’s my favorite TV show? Who were my parents?”
Law looked stunned. I scoffed and waved him off, turning around to leave. “You’re just like the rest of them.”
As I was storming out, Law yelled at my back: “Do you even know all of that any more, Nami?”
Fifteen
I reached for my phone for the one hundredth time that night and for the one hundredth time that night, I dialed the number Huck had given me. Then, for the one hundredth time that night, I hung up on the first ring. Throwing my phone at the coffee table, I sighed, giving up.
It was reckless of me to call Huck, but I felt so lonely. In the past six months I?
??d lost everyone and everything I’d believed defined me. Then, as if life wasn’t cruel enough, I’d lost the one thing that was helping build me back up. I’d lost Raskol.
