30. Amelie
30
AMELIE
By the time I sneak off to bed, I’m exhausted.
Mentally, anyways. The five of us did nothing all day, and we will continue to do nothing for most of this trip. These things are always about relaxing; at least, they’re supposed to be. It’s a bit draining when you’re considering leaving in the middle of the night, but that’s just a ‘me’ thing.
I crawl into bed and bury myself under the mounds of blankets I gathered from the hall closet. I left enough for the others, but it is cold in this place. Especially in my silk pajamas. If I were smart, I’d have brought something else, but no. I did not do that.
I’m turning off my lamp and plugging in my phone when the device starts ringing. Meg’s name flashes across the screen, and for some reason, it triggers every nerve in my body and tells them to freak out.
“Hello?” I say upon answering.
Meg exhales. “Hi. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just talked to Jen, and I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“You’re good,” I say through a yawn. “I’m sharp as a knife.”
She snorts. “Okay. He told you about the job, right? Jensen did?”
“Yes,” I say, then pause. Now that I’m actually thinking this through, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. “Wait. He said they got in contact…”
“With me,” she says, and I frown. “They found me online by a name I have on a listing site. Jensen said he told you this.”
“He may have, but it was five in the morning, and I think I discredited it all,” I admit. “Is there a problem, or…?”
“The problem…I guess there isn’t a problem. It’s just suspicious. Everything feels a little odd.”
“How so?” I ask, even though I know . I get it. That heavy sense of suspicion has been weighing on me since Bondi’s. I just want someone to confirm that I’m not overthinking.
“Well, for starters, I don’t get contacted.”
She’s very right. We’ve never reached out to anyone through her online personas, and we’ve certainly never received an offer through one.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Anything else?”
“Yes. I dug deeper into the contact, and it stems from the same person who first teased that photo of Henry’s Ophelia .”
I sit up in bed. The mention of Bondi’s reminds me of that ace I saw tucked into the corner of Nautical Abyss, but it feels like a poor time to bring that up. Maybe that problem has dissolved by now, or at least lessened. “The one that tricked us?”
“Yes.”
Groaning, I kick the blankets off my legs and stumble over to my bag, yanking out my laptop. I brought it against my will because I knew I’d end up needing it. Despite this being a ‘vacation’ of sorts, it’s never really on pause. Not if Jen and Meg are still working.
I sit on my rug and crack my knuckles. “Give me the name again.”
“ Lover of Mine ,” Meg says, and I type it into the search engine.
About a million results appear on my screen, so I say, “Artist?”
“Gail Branson.”
I tack that onto the search. A few photos of the exact same painting litter my screen, so I assume it’s the correct one this time.
A young man and woman in an embrace. That’s the piece. But the room is dark, and a spotlight shines on them. Only them. There are people in the background, but the couple doesn’t seem to notice or care. It’s intimate. Calming, almost.
“Where’s it based?”
“Another thing you’re not going to believe,” Meg says, sounding tired. “The piece is in their possession. They just want us to transport it.”
I blink, set the phone down, and turn it on speaker so I can adequately raise my voice without deafening her. “HUH?”
“Told you it’s weird.”
“Okay, but are you going to do it?”
Silence for a beat. “It’s ten grand.”
“Is our cover worth ten grand to you?”
“Can I be honest with you, Ames?”
Oh, how I absolutely hate that. “Yes.”
“I think our cover has been off for quite some time. I just don’t think anyone has had the means to do anything about it.”
I bite down on my thumbnail. She’s right, and I’ve known it for a while. Our cover has been weak. We’ve gotten sloppy. How else would Henry have caught me twice ?
It’s not like I’m not careful. But to some extent, I’ve loosened up. I won’t pretend like I don’t enjoy an adrenaline rush. That thrill, that feeling of teetering on the edge, it’s part of what keeps me in it.
“Go for it,” I tell Meg. “I trust you guys. But if you get caught, I can’t help you from here.”
“We know the rules,” she says, her voice tight.
‘Rules’ is a stiff way to put it, but we do have an agreement. If one of us gets caught, that’s it. We don’t sell out. That’s why I like doing the work. The communication. I don’t want Jen or Meg taking the fall for something I got them into. Yes, this job is their choice, but it was my beginning. They don’t get to be in trouble without me.
That said, if they get caught on their own, I want to be left behind to deal with things. Someone’s got to bail them out.
“Keep me updated,” I say into the phone, hoping I wasn’t quiet for long. “I’d say this is our last job for a few weeks, hm? We deserve a break.”
She laughs. “I think you’re right”
I grab the glass off my nightstand and take a long drink of water. “Just trust your intuition, Megs. If it feels like a trap, get out of there.”
“We will.” Meg takes a deep breath, then rolls over in bed, I think. Her phone speaker hits something like a blanket and muffles the sound. “How are things there?”
“Things here?” I hum. “Fine. Tense. Margot and I have had one conversation, and it wasn’t great. The likelihood of us warming up by the end of this trip is slim.”
“Hm.” She sighs. “How’s your fake boyfriend, then?”
“Also fine. Very fake-boyfriend-y.”
“Has he kissed you yet?”
I balk. “Megan Lang!”
“What? C’mon, Ames. The man has probably kissed you before.”
“But why would he do it in front of my parents? That’s disgusting.”
She sighs. “For authenticity .”
“Do couples often make out in front of their parents and so-called in-laws?”
“I wouldn’t know. My parents are dead.”
Well! I’d forgotten about that little tidbit.
“No,” I say, “he has not kissed me. We’ve only been here for fourteen hours. That would be jumping the gun a bit.”
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
She laughs, and it actually scares me. “Ames. He wants to kiss you.”
My jaw threatens to drop off my face. “I will hang up, Meg. I’m serious.”
“I’m only telling the truth. What boy in his right mind would stay with your family for a week if he didn’t like you, at least a little? You two have history. He probably wanted to remind you of it.”
She’s gone mad. Genuinely. Time with Jensen has rotted her brain. When I get back home, moths will fly out of her ears, and I’ll have to bring her back to life with my actual correct logic.
“You’re out of your mind,” I say, standing from the floor. “And anyways, he wouldn’t do anything like that. We have this agreement.”
“Which is?”
I open my mouth to rattle it off, only to realize that we don’t have one. No guidelines. No precedent. There’s an unspoken one in my mind, I guess, but that doesn’t do me any good. Henry can’t read my thoughts.
“Goodnight, Megs!” I squeak, wrapping a blanket around me like a cape. “Stay out of trouble.”
She laughs knowingly. “Bye, Ames.”
I hang up the phone with a relieved sigh.
What a ridiculous theory. I know exactly why Henry volunteered to join me—to keep tabs on my whereabouts. He wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to bail on our deal before locating his piece.
That’s the only possibility.
Or maybe it’s the only one I’m comfortable with.