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“It was a complicated procedure, I have to say,” Rita explained. “I normally operate with people in the United States, so the fact that she’d initially fled to Argentina made things much more difficult. It seems like she spent about eighteen months in Argentina, then some time in France, a few months in Egypt, then a couple of years on an island off the coast of Croatia before she wound up in Thailand.”
Oriana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Thailand?” It seemed like another planet.
“An island called Ko Tao. I can send you the address of her place after this phone call.”
Oriana’s head spun. “And she’s okay?”
“I didn’t actually make it to Thailand to speak with her,” Rita said. “And she doesn’t know I found her, either. You should see some of the elaborate methods she used to try to stay hidden.”
“You must be a very good private detective.” Oriana wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I’ve been around a long time,” Rita said. “Unlucky for Brea, she used a lot of techniques that a recent guy I found also used, so I’d been through this before.”
Oriana sputtered. “Can you tell me anything about her? Anything at all?”
“Not much else,” Rita admitted. “But she’s there. And it doesn’t look like she’s headed anywhere else any time soon.”
“So, I guess I’d better buy a plane ticket,” Oriana breathed.
“Pack your swimsuit,” Rita joked. “I know this isn’t a pleasurable trip— but it’s gorgeous there. You had better enjoy it.”
ChapterThirteen
October 1998
It had been two weeks since Kenny’s diagnosis, and everything had gone from bad to worse. Frequently at work, Brea hid in the bathroom to sob and scream into wads of toilet paper, then redo her makeup to perfection, trying as hard as she could to look the part of a successful art dealer on the brink of the rest of her life. In reality, her life was a nightmare.
“You ready to go out again tonight?” Oriana walked past Brea’s desk, smiling. “Nick says he put us on the guest list at Marco’s.” She paused, then bent down to add, “I think Nick’s going to close that deal on the Hedgehog drawing. Half a million dollars! Not bad. Plus, I think Nick is really fun, don’t you?”
Brea congratulated Oriana on the near-sale and agreed to go out, despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she trusted Nick. He and Oriana had gotten very chummy very quickly, in a way that suggested to Brea that Nick wanted something out of Oriana. Maybe he wanted better deals on art. Maybe he wanted her “in” with some high rollers like Walter. Or maybe he just had a crush on her, which probably wasn’t terrible in and of itself. Oriana was head-over-heels with Reese and would never consider cheating.
“I bought a new dress for you,” Oriana said just before she left Brea’s desk. “It’s a sexy thing, so make sure Kenny sees you in it before you go out.” She winked.
Oriana was on top of the world. Walter had agreed to the four-million-dollar deal, and she was in talks to sell several other pieces of art— sculptures and wall murals that had been cut off actual buildings, puppets, and diaries from important, now-dead artists. Since the diagnosis, Brea had done her best to keep up with her, to attend every important lunch and dinner, to fetch Oriana’s snacks when she had low blood sugar, and to crack jokes with the clients when Oriana had to go into the next room to take a call from another client. Over and over again, Oriana had told Brea, “It’s going to be worth it soon when we’re both working together on Martha’s Vineyard.”
But the concept of this “happy life” in Martha’s Vineyard was beginning to look less and less likely, at least for Brea and Kenny. The doctor had said he would die if he didn’t get his kidney transplant soon. Even though dialysis would buy him some time, it was still running short. He was on a list, but the list was very long, filled with names of other people whose lives were similarly hopeless, and once his name did come up, they wouldn’t have the money to accept the surgery.
Brea had considered asking Oriana for more money. But Oriana didn’t have the money for something like kidney surgery, not this early in her career. Because they were a “real family,” Oriana and Reese had health insurance. They’d set up their lives in ways Brea and Kenny hadn’t even considered, because they’d thought they were young and healthy— nothing could touch them.
Although they’d sworn her to secrecy, Kenny’s mother had learned of Kenny’s illness and soon appeared on Brea and Kenny’s doorstep to help out. This had resulted in hours and hours of Valerie scream-crying in the bathroom, which had only added to the doom and gloom of the apartment. Eventually, though, she’d figured out how she was needed and where, which had given Brea a little bit of breathing room.
Kenny told her endlessly she needed to keep her job. And it devastated her to realize that he said these things, mostly because he assumed she would live long after him— and she needed something to live for.
On the night Brea agreed to go out to Marco’s club with Nick and Oriana, she dressed in the bathroom, did her makeup, and stepped into the living room to see Valerie and Kenny on the couch. Kenny was skeletal and so sick, and Valerie was crocheting a blanket angrily, her eyes on the news. Valerie had made it clear she didn’t approve of Brea’s career, as it took her “out to clubs” too often. Brea hated that aspect of it, too, but she didn’t like Valerie enough to agree with her verbally.
Ultimately, Brea felt lost— more lost than she’d ever been. And she didn’t have anyone to turn to.
“Have a wonderful night, baby,” Kenny said as Brea leaned down to kiss him. “See you later.”
Regret and guilt were heavy on Brea’s shoulders as she walked out into the night to meet Oriana and Nick. But when she reached the nightclub to stand in line behind Oriana and Nick, the bouncer surprised them with news.
“You two are on the list. She’s not.” He pointed at Brea.
Oriana’s jaw dropped. “Nick? Did you forget to put Brea on the list?”
Nick frowned. “There must be some mistake.”
But the bouncer wouldn’t hear of it. “The list is the list. You two get in or get out.”
