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“Sorry about that. So, what are you going to do?”
“I guess I’m going to go take notes?” I shrug helplessly. “I mean, at this point what else can I do? The whole point of this trip was to find an investor, and Veronica really did find an investor. Mission accomplished, I guess?”
Tabby scowls, looking off camera for a few minutes and chewing the inside of her chubby cheek.
“Why do the bad guys get all the breaks?” she muses ruefully.
“I wish I knew,” I scoff, then correct my attitude. “But I can’t complain! This is… It has all been amazing. Like a dream. Who would’ve thought that a girl like me would be here? On this island? With these guys? Grateful. I gotta be grateful for everything. You know what I mean?”
She gets serious all of a sudden. “Nobody in the world deserves it more than you, Opal. You better believe it.”
I feel the sincerity in her voice. It makes me choked up.
“Well, I guess I have to go take notes,” I say with a shrug.
“Take the best notes in the world!” she suggests. “That will show them!”
“Yeah. You’re funny. Hey, what about your new job?”
“Oh, right!” she begins again brightly. “I got the front—”
The connection goes white. The Wi-Fi has died. I try the call again a few times before giving up, admitting that I don’t have another choice but to go find Veronica and write down every word she says.
Chapter 21
IRVING
Piloting the jet normally clears my head. But by the time I reach the airstrip in Miami, I feel somehow worse. Veronica got the better of me, and she knows it. I should be glad she found someone else to fixate on. I’m sure she and Rocco will be very happy together. Where is she in her plan for children? I can’t remember. No matter. She’s highly resilient. I doubt she would even carry a child in her own body anyway.
I hate backtracking, is all. Before we left I said we were not investing in this project. And yet, Cal’s pitch was very convincing. And maybe it was the wine, or the sea air, or the good food, but I began to change my mind. Or perhaps it was just the novelty and intensity of the interpersonal connections.
Never mind. I don’t want to think about that right now. Suddenly I feel moorless. I can’t go back to the office. Everyone there will be gossiping about Veronica and me. I don’t blame them, but I am not of a mood to tolerate it right now. And Opal? I wonder what kind of stories they will come up with about that.
Gossip doesn’t bother me, but being unable to control the spin of it does. I like to be understood. Being misunderstood or misquoted is a pet peeve. When Veronica and I had broken up and she still tried to manipulate every conversation to make it appear that we were still a couple, I found that very annoying. If people are going to gossip about me, I want them to have their facts straight.
And now our afternoon trip has turned into a three-day excursion. At least today is Friday, and no one will notice if Opal or I am gone for the rest of the weekend. At least there is that.
The tarmac is busy with other executives taking their jets and turboprop planes out for the weekend. It is a common sight around here. I feel exposed, eager to avoid running into anyone that I know professionally. Luckily, the Mercedes is in the hangar, and I slip out of the airfield without attracting more attention to myself.
Tossing my overnight bag into the back seat, I notice my iPad slipping from the pocket but don’t quite catch it in time before it clatters to the ground, shattering the face instantly. Somehow, this gives me a small amount of pleasure. Now I have something to do. I have to fix my iPad.
Traffic is moderately heavy, and I turn the music up loud, trying to relax behind the tinted windows of the Mercedes as I head down I-95. I am doing all the deep breathing I can possibly do, and still, it feels wrong.
I feel like I was interrupted in the middle of a fall. Like I was thrown off course during the journey. Something like that. I can’t describe it exactly. All I know is that I have this strong, almost magnetic feeling that I am in the wrong place. I am a compass, spinning, whirling too fast to find true north.
Downtown, I feel it is unlikely I will run into anyone I know. I park in a corner of the strip mall parking lot and take the iPad gingerly from its pocket, careful to avoid getting slivers of the nearly invisible glass on my hands or in the car.
The Apple Store is thronging with customers. Maybe they released a new iPhone this week or something. I wonder why I didn’t get an invite? Not like I need more equipment, but I do expect to be invited.
They throw amazing parties.
I check in on the touchscreen, clicking the button for “repair.” While I wait to be called, I walk around, unrecognized and unobserved. The house music is a nice mix of midtempo beats and an eclectic arrangement of vocals.
Finally they call my name, and a curly-haired, thick woman with a pencil stuck to the top of her head smiles at me from behind the counter.
“How can I help you, Mr.…”
Her voice chokes off. Her cheeks go bright crimson.
