49. Henry
49
HENRY
I end up at Amelie’s place early the next morning. She called me moments after I woke up, asking me to come and figure things out before the auction tonight. I said yes, of course, though I’m not sure it would’ve mattered either way.
It sort of looks like her team has a hold on things without my help.
The four of us—me, Amelie, Jensen, and Meg—are sitting around their kitchen table, Meg with her nose in her laptop, and Amelie with a stack of papers in front of her. Jensen, in complete contrast to their singular tasks, has a corkboard’s worth of scribbled notes and blurry photos. They look mostly useless.
Amelie sighs. “Okay. Dearest Megan?—”
“I hate when you call me that.”
“—managed to get us a floor plan of the auction hall last night. Obviously, I’m assuming that this whole thing will take place on the stage, so that leaves us a few doors to get inside of.” Amelie hands Jensen and I a printed copy of the map. To me, it looks like a bunch of scribbled lines, but I can tell that it makes perfect sense to her. She’s vandalizing the thing with a red marker. “West exit could work. The paintings are stored in a back room a couple yards from the stage.”
“My dad will only be on stage for half of the auction,” I tell her. “Only for the work that involves his museum. We’ll have to get them while he’s off stage.”
“Will that be a problem?” Jensen asks.
Amelie shakes her head. “No. I’ve gone around him before. It’ll be fine.”
That, she has.
“I’m having trouble with the cameras,” Meg says, looking at Amelie. “I can’t do it from here. I have the data, but this place is secure.”
“You’ll get it done,” Amelie says, more a demand than encouragement.
Meg nods. “It’ll be done.”
“Good.” Amelie exhales and draws a big circle on the map before looking up at me. “You’re not going?”
I blink, confused. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“Question.”
“Oh. Well, my dad told me not to, but I don’t particularly care.” I drag my hand down my face. “Do you want me there?”
“Yes. And I have an idea, but it’s a very bad one.” A pause, like she’s preparing us for the worst. “What if we just…walk in? Through the front door? No sneaking around tonight.”
“That is a terrible idea,” Jensen cuts in. “That’s where the cameras are, right? The entrance?”
“I’m not trying to be slick,” Amelie says, sipping on the coffee I brought her. “I’m fine if Roman knows we’re there. Let him know we’ve bested him.”
He stares daggers at her. “And you think that’s wise?”
“Ah!” She pokes his nose, and he doesn’t budge. “Never said that. But let this be a final send-off of sorts. For him and I, anyways. I don’t see him messing with us anymore after this, and if we pull it off, we get the final word.”
I’m grinning at the sheer amount of confidence in her voice, but I’m the only one. Everyone else looks mildly perturbed by her lack of worry.
“Fine,” Jensen says, crossing his arms, “but I’m going, too.”
“That’s not a good idea,” I mumble, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “My dad may or may not have…suspicious looking footage of you in my apartment building.”
“I’m sorry ?”
I get the picture of him and the doorman on my screen. “Can you look at this?” I ask Meg, who is not paying a remote bit of attention to me. Or, so I think; instead of responding, she just holds her hand out. I set my phone in her palm, and within seconds, she’s connected it to her laptop through a USB cord, probably running it through some search engine.
“She’ll get that taken care of, too,” Amelie says, turning back to Jensen. “But you cannot go inside that building. You’ll be outside, ready to help me load them.”
Jensen sighs and scratches his jaw. “You said this is a final send-off. If that’s the case, let me help with it. Who cares, right?”
Amelie bites the inside of her cheek. “What do you think, Henry?”
“I think it could go poorly,” I admit, “but I think a lot of this could go poorly. With any luck, he won’t be a problem after tonight.”
She looks at me for a second, like I’m jumping the gun by joining her side rather than my dad’s, but it isn’t like that. I made this decision a long, long time ago, and it’s finally time for it to be carried out. It’s a strange, unconventional way of me getting out of his grasp, but it’s happening regardless. The result is necessary, no matter what path we take.
“Okay, then. Final question for you.” Amelie looks up at me. “How good is Lizzy at making a scene? She used to be grand, and that talent rarely leaves.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing. “The best.”
“Perfect.” She uncaps the pen between her teeth and writes something on the corner of the paper. “Megs, you got that?”
She doesn’t say a word. Her eyes are narrowed on my phone screen.
“Meg.” Amelie waves a hand in front of her eyes. “Do you?—”
“This is fake,” she says, looking up at me. “Edited. The image is manipulated.”
Amelie gapes at her and snatches the phone away. I’m shocked to feel such an obvious sense of relief rush over me. I never believed it was real, not for a second, but I had nothing to go off of other than hope.
“That’s good,” I say. “Right? It won’t hold up.”
“It wouldn’t anyways, but yeah. It’s obvious.”
“It’s not,” Amelie corrects her.
Meg shrugs. “It is to me. His hand is blurred against the desk, and his foot is crooked.”
Amelie passes me the phone, and I stare hard at the photo, but I don’t see anything she’s talking about. The image is already blurry enough, given that it was meant to look like security footage, and the small scale on my phone isn’t helping. But I believe her; I have no reason not to.
“So,” Amelie continues. “Meg. Did you catch what we said?”
Meg blinks. “The parts that made no sense? Yes, I’ve got it.”
“Wonderful. Jensen, you come in the back door. From the alley, where Meg’ll be parked.”
He nods. “Got it.”
Amelie huffs and caps her pen again, tossing it to the center of the table. “Is this good? Are we doing this?”
“Can’t verify that it’s good,” Meg says, “but yeah, we’re doing it.”
Amelie looks at me. “Be here at seven thirty?”
“No later,” I confirm.
“Should we go early?” Jensen asks her. “Meg and I?”
She nods. “That’s probably smart. I don’t want to arrive too early, given the circumstances. Less time for Roman to find something wrong.”
I’m vaguely aware that this is aiding and abetting, but honestly, I don’t care. There are worse things I could be doing with my afternoon.
Besides, my dad started it. Not us.
“Sounds like a plan,” Jensen mutters, standing from the table. He walks over to the fridge and removes two cans of cola, sitting one directly in front of Amelie. She grins and pops the top, but he doesn’t open his. Instead, he stares directly at me like I’ve just kicked a puppy.
“So this is a thing now?” He asks, motioning between Amelie and I. “As in, this isn’t ending after tonight. Am I understanding correctly?”
Amelie glances at me, then back at Jensen. “Yes, you’re understanding correctly.”
He blinks and waves vaguely at the disaster of a corkboard in the corner. “You’re fine with this?”
“I am,” I say solemnly.
His eyes say that he doesn’t believe me, and I don’t blame him. This whole thing started out with me blackmailing Amelie with proof of her job, which is a complete turnaround from where I’m at now. But it’s true. All of it.
Amelie is it for me. Even while being an inconvenience with her work, she got under my skin in the most addicting way, and I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a little thrilling. If I said it wasn’t a part of her I’ve grown to be obsessed with.
Jensen sighs and leans forward on his arms. He takes a long drink of water before laying eyes on Amelie once again. “Alright. Fine. I won’t be plotting his demise any longer.”
She laughs, but I’m not sure he’s kidding. “Jen, really. Meg’s hostility has rubbed off on you. And anyways, I have no time for this. I have to find a dress to wear tonight.”
“You can’t wear one of the seventy-two that you already have?” Meg asks.
Amelie scoffs. “ No . And I’ve got no time to make one, either. I didn’t think this through as thoroughly as I should’ve.”
“So just…go buy one,” Jensen suggests.
She shakes her head. “Can’t. I’ve been banned from the dress shop on this street.”
I open my mouth to ask why on earth she’s been banned from a boutique, but she holds up a hand. “Don’t.”
“Noted.” I stand from my chair and step away from the table, pulling my phone back out of my pocket. “Give me just a minute.”
None of them protest as I step into the hallway and dial my sister’s number. She answers on the first ring, so I assume she’s either avoiding her work or simply bored out of her mind.
“Hi hi!” Liz says into the phone. Her tone is happy, so she’s probably not at work. “What do you want?”
“I need a favor. Well, technically, it’s an indirect favor.”
“ Ooh , okay. For whom?”
I lean against the wall. “How do you feel about dress shopping with?—?”
Before I can even say Amelie’s name, Liz squeals and says she’ll meet me on the corner in ten.