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When we’re finished and he finally rises off me, his eyes glisten in the moonlight.
TWENTY-THREE
Niccolo
December 31, 2015
Jamie told me about the telescope at Barrett’s house. How much her friend Gwen likes it. So it’s not hard to get rid of them both. My girl is more than happy to take her bestie upstairs to the mini-planetarium Kim designed and had installed a year and a half ago: a way, she told my dad, to see her son. It cost a fortune, but he has that. If he hadn’t paid for it, I would have.
I’ve known for two days now that my team has been spotted. Since then, I’ve been thinking. Planning.
Until last year, I did a monthly write-up in the local rag. Hollywood insider type of shit. Fun for me, exciting for the people here, my way to give back to the community since I’m not willing to be a politician/whore like Dad.
I paid a visit to the Gazette’s offices the day we arrived. I took Jamie with me. It was perfect. She yakked her head off while I went into the archive room to “make copies of my work.”
“For old times’ sake,” I’d told the editor, a flighty little lady named Sue.
Instead, I pulled an old New Year’s edition. The Gazette is an afternoon paper, so what I’m looking for is there. I’ve seen this edition many times before, have piles of it in the wine cellar below my parents’ place.
I step out of the archives looking troubled, hands in pockets. The article of interest is crumped in my pocket.
“Sue,” I say in a puzzled voice, “I can’t find something I’d like to copy.”
“What are you looking for?”
I explain, with Jamie’s help, her best friend’s situation. Jamie has been telling me about her friend. Gwen’s struggles. Her attack.
“I wasn’t sure she even had a copy of the write-up.” I look wide-eyed down at Jamie. She nods, and I can see the gratitude in her eyes—appreciative that I care.
“You know…” She taps her cheek. “I doubt she does. That’s actually a really good idea. Might give her some closure.”
The three of us canvass the archive room. Sue is shaken when she discovers that the page is missing. Jamie is more shaken.
“It could be him! The person who attacked Gwen. Him or…her, I guess. Who would take something like that? And why? I don’t get it.”
I shake my head. I’m glad she doesn’t. Very, very glad my lover doesn’t get it.
With Jamie and Gwen upstairs now, I find Barrett where I know I will: in John’s room. The dude is standing by my brother’s bookshelf with his arms crossed; really, wrapped around himself. I recognize his stance. In acting, it’s an advanced skill set: displaying pain, appearing vulnerable, while keeping
the face blank. But Barrett has it down. Bear, John called him.
I could pity him, but I don’t let myself. There’s no point.
I hear him inhale as I step into the room. When he sees it’s me, he bows his head, biding his time to see what I will do. John told me some of this shit. Their secret agent mind-fuck shit. Not so much different than what Dad does, really. John was different. He was better than this manipulative shit. This guy is nothing like my brother. John died for him, and Barrett isn’t worthy.
That helps.
It helps with my conscience.
“Bear,” I say. I let my knowledge resonate in my voice. “I thought you were familiar…”
I’ve got to give it to him: He removes that stupid Zoro mask and looks me in the eye, and I can see he’s sorry. I can see he’s eaten up with guilt.
“You’re my brother’s friend. The one…” I start.
I struggle to keep my face neutral as his eyes glimmer. He nods, solemn. He seems penitent. I tell myself that’s good. He should be.
“You were close to John,” I say. “He told me you were his best friend.”
