Chapter Ten #2
A transatlantic drawl snaps my thoughts in two and I turn towards Charlie.
My father: the fugitive; the headline maker.
In some ways he is the same old Charlie: messy; lazy; funny.
He is a survivor, impermeable to bad luck and a badly lived life.
But he has aged. Being on the run has aged him—scared him, I think.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to look back.
Which might be why the dial on our relationship has shifted.
It’s not perfect but we have pressed the reset button.
Or rather, I pressed it, and Charlie has gone along with it.
Because it turns out he needs me as much as I need him, maybe more.
I’m not a child now. I’m not dependent on his good mood, or his money.
In fact, he is dependent on mine. His assets have been frozen.
But my apartment was bought with money from my grandmother’s estate.
And the salary from Wade and Walters is mine too.
And it’s not just the money. I’ve changed.
I’m tougher, more confident. I’m proud of who I am. Finally, I like myself.
I turn to face Charlie. ‘You left them in the hallway. Which means they’re probably still there.’ My father is still adjusting to this brave new world of having to pick up his own clothes.
‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ I say. ‘And I made some overnight oats last night.’
Charlie shakes his head. ‘You know I can’t bear all that healthy crap. I could murder a Bloody Mary, though.’ He catches sight of my face and says quickly, ‘Obviously I’m not going to have one.’
‘Obviously. As there is no alcohol in the apartment and your tag will go off if you leave the building.’
‘I know, I know. Why are you drinking coffee anyway?’ he says hastily, changing the subject. ‘I thought you hated the stuff.’
I do. And I don’t drink it. The smell reminds me of Renzo. But I’m not going to share that fact with Charlie.
I haven’t seen Renzo since I left Praiano.
I haven’t seen or spoken to anyone, not even Antony.
But then I haven’t left the apartment, not even to go to the office.
I’m not bunking off. I’ve been given compassionate leave.
And I’m glad I agreed. Even the thought of seeing Renzo again feels like a knife in the stomach.
‘Things change. People too. How about I make you a Virgin Mary?’
Charlie scans my face. ‘How about I make it, but you have one too? Doesn’t do to drink alone, even if it’s booze-free.’
Taking two glasses from the cupboard, he put first one then the other under the ice dispenser, grinning as it spits out four perfect cubes of ice.
‘I’m not a fan of gadgets normally, but this I love.’ He is practically purring. ‘I must say this place is very well-equipped. I thought it might be a bit spartan for me. I mean, Valetti is such a cold-blooded bastard.’
The glass almost slips from my fingers. My legs are hollow, and my head feels like the bottom of a muddy stream. I don’t understand. Did I mishear? Questions jostle and swell inside my head until finally one bursts from my mouth. ‘What’s this apartment got to do with Renzo Valetti?’
Charlie rubs his hand over his face, a sure sign he is hiding something. I know it, and he knows I know it, and after a few seconds of silence he sighs.
‘He owns it.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ I haven’t told Charlie about what happened with Renzo and me, but still.
‘He told me not to. He was quite insistent.’
‘You’ve seen him?’
My father shrugs. ‘He came to the bail hearing. He put up the bail,’ he adds, and he has the grace to look sheepish now.
Renzo was at the bail hearing. I can’t get my head around this. Why would he do that? But I know why. He sees a problem and he feels responsible. What was it he said? You’re my co-CEO. I have a vested interest.
A vested interest. His words scrape against my skin like a grater. I don’t know why, but it hurts way more than it did the first time.
‘Did he say anything?’
Charlie’s expression changes, and for the first time in my life his sang-froid seems to falter. ‘He told me that if I was thinking about disappearing again I should remind myself that he’s Italian, and that Italy is a piece of land off Sicily where they take revenge very seriously.’
‘Was that all? I mean, he didn’t say anything else?’ About me? I want to ask. About us? About coming with me to my AA meeting?
My father frowns. ‘What else should he say?’
I train my eyes on a place behind Charlie’s left shoulder. ‘Nothing,’ I say finally, his words crushing the last, tiny hope that flickered inside me. ‘Nothing at all.’
I spend the rest of the morning rereading old copies of FROW.
They’re pre-Renzo, so there is no risk of stumbling over his name, or worse his photo.
Then I go and have a shower. I’ve spent the last few days in my pyjamas.
Now I pull on some jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie and I wrap a scarf around my neck, pulling it up so that it covers the lower half of my face.
‘Where are you going?’ Charlie sounds plaintive. He has no idea how to occupy himself without entertainment, but he will have to learn. At least for a couple of hours.
‘I’ve got my AA meeting.’
His eyes hover on my face. ‘I could come with you. I can go incognito.’ He reaches behind the cushion on the sofa, pulls out a baseball cap and shoves it onto his head. ‘See?’
I stare down at him, remembering that day when Renzo gave me a similar cap to disguise myself.
‘You have a tag, remember? Thanks for offering, but I’ll be fine,’ I say firmly. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll switch my phone to silent in the meeting, but you can text me.’
Maybe it’s because Charlie reminded me of that first day with Renzo, but I think about him as I head downtown.
Or maybe it’s because Renzo said he’d come to this meeting.
But I know he won’t. Any guilt he might feel about dropping out will be more than offset by the bail money he’s paid, and the apartment we’re living in thanks to him.
My group meets in a church hall opposite Central Park, and I do try to go to the meeting.
I stand in front of where we meet, and several times I come close to going in, but in the end, I text Carrie and ask her to collect my chip because I can’t face it.
I tell her I’m going to grab a coffee at Bezzera.
The coffee shop is quiet. It’s mid-afternoon, so for once I get a seat at the window counter. As the waiter approaches, I dump my bag on the neighbouring chair.
‘Hi there, what would you like to order?’ The waiter smiles at me without really seeing me—perfect.
‘Just an espresso, please.’
While I wait for my coffee, I watch the people walking their dogs, torn between relief and disappointment. I should have gone, but I couldn’t face that moment when I had to accept once and for all that Renzo isn’t coming.
‘Is anyone sitting here?’
‘No, it’s fine.’
I reach for my bag, glancing up automatically to see which clown has to sit next to me even though the café is practically empty and my heart stops beating.
Renzo is standing there. In the fading afternoon sunlight, his solidity and architectural beauty is agonizingly familiar, yet already there is a change in him, in us.
‘Are you sure?’ The stiffness in his voice makes my skin feel as if it is made of ice and he has just trodden on it. For a moment, I am mute, but then I force myself to speak. ‘What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in Scotland with Noah Barker?’
‘Yes,’ he says simply. ‘But when we were en route I realised that I’d made a mistake. I had another, more important, meeting in my diary. A meeting with you.’
He remembered. Worse, he sees me as an obligation to be met. A commitment to be honoured. And there it is—the truth laid bare.
‘That’s right, I forgot, you have a “vested interest” in me.
I’m afraid you missed the meeting, but it really doesn’t matter.
You’ve done enough already, Renzo. I know you paid Charlie’s bail, and that you’re paying for the apartment we’re living in.
I’m very grateful for that, but I don’t need your pity. ’
‘I don’t pity you.’
‘Okay, sorry, wrong word—you feel responsible. Is that better? Well, guess what? I’m not your responsibility, Renzo. And I don’t want to be.’
I expect him to look relieved or angry, but he doesn’t look either. I don’t know why but that knocks me off-balance, and quite suddenly I am close to tears. ‘Can you please just go?’
‘No, I can’t.’
My hands push his chest. ‘This is so like you, having to be in control of everything.’ It’s like trying to move a mountain made of muscle and I give up in frustration.
‘But I’m not in control, Hennessy,’ he says quietly. ‘I haven’t been in control since we kissed in Las Vegas. And the thing is, I don’t care.’
I stare at him, mute, dumbfounded. His words make no sense. Then I remember that he doesn’t need to make sense to me.
I reach for my bag, but he steps closer, and that’s when I register that there are smudges under his eyes and he is wearing a thick, dark coat even though it is a reasonably warm afternoon.
‘Why are you stopping me?’
‘Because I didn’t stop you before. And I should have done. But then, there are lots of other things I should have done. I should have gone with you to Buenos Aires. I should have been by your side to protect you from the paparazzi.’
There is strain in his voice, pain too, and his body is a quivering line of tension.
‘But mostly I should have told you that I love you. You see, I don’t have a vested interest in you. I’m not interested in you at all. I’m fascinated. Spellbound. Smitten.’
The silence in the café swells around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the waiter retreating with my coffee.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘That’s a lie. You don’t love me, Renzo. You can’t. I represent everything you hate. I’m chaos and confusion.’
‘You’re challenging.’
‘I have all this baggage. And you hate baggage.’
‘I don’t like having too much luggage.’ He steps forward and takes hold of my wrists. ‘But I love your baggage. Because it’s your baggage and I love everything about you.’
Renzo
‘Why are you lying to me?’ Hennessy struggles against my wrists, breaks free and pummels my chest but it’s nothing compared to the pain I’m feeling inside. My lungs are burning. My heart is flopping heavily, like a bird with an injured wing.
I stare down at Hennessy’s small, quivering face. Her hair is tied up with a thick band, and she is wearing a hoodie that obscures every one of her curves, but I don’t think she has ever looked more beautiful.
Or more out of reach. Because I have hurt her. I pushed her away. I put myself first. I left her to face the world alone.
‘I’m not lying, not now. But I was, back in Praiano. You were right—you said I had all these secrets. A whole other life. And I did. I had a life filled with fear. When Antony and I got put into care, I never felt so helpless and inadequate. And lonely.’
I breathe out shakily, remembering. ‘The staff were mostly kind, but they changed all the time, and they were over-worked. We were cared for, but there were limits, barriers. It wasn’t like with my parents.
Only they were gone, and I think losing them made me scared of letting those barriers down with anyone else. ’
She watches me in that way of hers and I can’t believe I am baring my soul to her. But then, I realise that it’s because I am baring my soul that I need her gaze. I have never surrendered more power than in this moment and yet I feel nothing but relief.
‘I was scared of everything. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that could happen that I couldn’t control.
And Antony was depending on me. That fear has driven me, haunted me, my whole life.
But it’s nothing compared to what I felt when you walked out of the villa, and I thought I’d lost you. ’
Her hands unclench a fraction. I know because my whole body is attuned to hers. And then she takes my hand, and my heart flips over with hope. This is a new kind of terror because I don’t know if I can bear to let go of her again.
‘You didn’t lose me.’
‘No, I didn’t. I abandoned you. And I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. All I could think about was seeing you again and how it would be between us. How I wouldn’t be able to hold you and kiss you and—’
‘You didn’t lose me,’ she says again. ‘You haven’t lost me. You can’t lose me because I love you.’ She pulls me closer and our mouths meet, and it is a thing of undistilled sweetness to have her in my arms.
We kiss feverishly: lips, cheeks, forehead, lips again.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur against her hair. ‘But for someone supposedly so smart and omniscient I can be really dumb.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I went to the meeting. Here.’ I reach into my pocket and pull out the chip. ‘Carrie gave this to me to give to you. She says congratulations, and to tell you that she couldn’t be prouder.’
‘You went to the meeting?’ Her eyes widen comically, and I am intoxicated by how much that means to her.
‘I spoke at the meeting. About you—about how you didn’t just turn your life around, you changed mine too, and for the better.
That you’ve made me see I can’t control everything.
And I don’t want to. That’s why I’ve been talking to someone, a therapist, about why I felt like I did and how I can change.
Because I want to change. I have to change to be the man you deserve. ’
We kiss again and keep kissing until finally we break apart. It’s then that I notice the young man glancing furtively at us across the café. I frown. ‘Do you know him? Because he can’t take his eyes off you. Do you think he’s a reporter? Maybe I should…’
Hennessy peers over my shoulder. ‘No, he’s the waiter. Although, he does seem anxious to serve me,’ she says as the young man picks up the coffee cup again. She looks at me suspiciously. ‘You don’t own this place, do you?’
I laugh. ‘No. But I can buy it if you want me to.’
‘I don’t want you to buy me anything. I just want this.’ Her hands curve around my neck and she looks into my eyes. ‘I want you.’
‘I love you,’ I say because it’s true. And because I love watching Hennessy’s face when I say it.
‘And I love you too,’ she says softly. Then she kisses me, an open-mouthed kiss of passion and possibilities that only exist because of her, and because of us. And I love that most of all.