James
I think I did a good job keeping my composure in front of Sophia, but I can’t be sure. My vision was blurred with rage. And dare I say… fear?
I’m afraid these days like I never have been before. If something happens to me, it also happens to Sophia.
If I were to die or end up imprisoned, she’d be crushed.
But what could Cody have that he could even blackmail me with? It’s this question that occupies my thoughts on the plane.
He was vague on the phone. “We have video of it, . We can destroy a lot more than just your company. It’s even made my father change his mind about you.”
His words ring in my head. His hate for me is so obvious that everyone in The Society knows it. Recently he lost the support of his father, but if Daddy is angry, my contract with the government is as good as gone.
I don’t think Cody would bluff the existence of a video.
It must be me in Egypt. Me getting into the car with the Russian stuffed in the trunk with no context. Something like that. I don’t think he could put me in prison for a crime, but if there was enough smoke, it could scare off all my best clients.
I could be ruined.
I’m sure he’s going to ask me to withdraw my candidacy for the board of The Society. So be it. That’s fine. Two months ago, when I first shot that burglar, I thought I’d be ostracized from that group forever anyway, and I’d gotten over the fact just fine.
I’d let him release his blackmail if it only affected my relationship with The Society. But my business. My business needs to survive.
When we’re taxiing at Teterboro, I go to the bathroom and open a concealed panel under the sink. I keep a nine millimeter handgun here just in case. I put it in the waistband of my pants and sit back in my seat.
Cody wants me to meet him at an old wharf in New Jersey. I tell him I’m taking security, and he doesn’t push back, which means he’s probably not going to make an attempt on my life.
Which means this blackmail isn’t an excuse to meet. It must be real.
The sky is gray, and in New York, it’s too warm for it to snow. A cold rain beats down as Brock is waiting for me in the Mercedes. I didn’t bring security to Quebec because I thought I’d be with Sophia the whole time.
Now she’s alone. But what could I have done? Told her to come with me and wait on the plane?
No, it was the right call.
The wrong call was taking my heart from behind the safety of my skin. My ribcage. The harbor of my body and putting it in Sophia’s hands. It’s only as safe as she is now.
The derelict industrial buildings are all boarded up and raked with bubble-lettered graffiti. This is the kind of place you meet someone when you want to kill them. I’m sure Cody is trying to prove a point—no more meeting at the club. Our relationship has gone from back rooms to back alleys.
I see him standing next to his security guard. He’s in the wide open of the concrete wharf that extends into the river. His Escalade is parked sideways. He stands under an umbrella.
This loser has watched too many movies. He could’ve just sent me whatever this blackmail is on WhatsApp.
We park, and I tell Brock to wait in the car. I’m not going to take long.
I get out and leave my umbrella behind. I’m in nothing but my overcoat as I walk to Cody.
His sparse, wet blond hair looks like a wheat field in blight. It doesn’t stop him from beaming. “. You made good time.”
“Let’s get right to it, Cody. What have you got?”
He pauses. He’s taking his time, like he’s fantasized about this moment and wants to revel in it.
He shrugs and holds his phone out. I lean in under his umbrella to watch. I see a woman enter an elevator. The footage quality isn’t exactly top notch, but I can tell it’s Sophia. A man enters behind her. For a moment, my heart sinks. I feel ill.
She’s cheating on me.
Wait. No. I’m just a dumbass and this camera isn’t HD.
The handsome devil behind her is me.
I remember this. We were going to the top floor of the Beverly Building for dinner a couple weeks ago. The elevator ride was a little long, and we had it to ourselves. I watch us kiss. I watch my hands go up her dress.
Then I watch myself turn my head up to the ceiling and survey it. I remember this. I was looking for a camera. There were none. At least, not visible. The camera was hidden, and I was so goddamn horny, I didn’t second-guess that it might be.
I watch myself press the emergency elevator stop. I take the dress straps off Sophia’s shoulders.
I watch for another minute before taking my attention to Cody. “Oh, thank Christ,” I say, and he frowns. “I was afraid this shitty camera was going to make my dick look small.”
Cody snarls. “I talked to the DA. He agrees this is a fairly open and shut case of indecent exposure.”
“Oh fuck off, Cody.” A part of me is so relieved he has nothing serious on me that I’m not rageful that he dragged me out to this rainy wharf. Yet. “Who do you think I am? Bill Clinton? This is nothing.”
“You’re young, . And it shows. Call me a daddy’s boy all you like… At least I know how the old guard who still run the world think.”
“You know how they act in public. In private, they’re probably wondering if Sophia and I have an OnlyFans they can sub to. They’re horny old men. I hope you didn’t fucking send them this smut.”
“Your contract is dead.”
“No,” I say, stepping backwards so I don’t do anything stupid. My anger is building. “ You’re dead, Cody.”
I start back towards the car.
“Leave The Society, . Or tomorrow this video is everywhere. You may not care, but I bet the girl does.”
The thought of Sophia being exposed in this makes me want to draw my pistol. But there are apartments across the river. Witnesses. This meeting looks comically nefarious. Three men on a rainy wharf. Two black cars. All we’re missing is a fucking black briefcase.
“I promise you, if you release it, it will be among the last things you ever do.”
“Six in the morning. I need an answer by then, . Sleep on it.”
I climb into the back seat and slam the door shut, but Cody doesn’t seem fazed by my words. That or his sly smile is a bluff. But I don’t think it is.
He knows I can’t risk letting the tape out. I don’t care if my naked body is shown to the world. I might lose a few of my more prudish clients. My own board might attempt a mutiny. But these are things I feel capable of surviving.
But Sophia… How would this make her feel?
“The airport, sir?” Brock asks me.
“Yes.”
The car starts to move, and I clench my teeth and fists. I think of everything I’ve already subjected her to. The Russians in Egypt. The heist. Now she’s implicated in my blackmail. And in three months flat. My life has been a menace to her, and yet she has been nothing but loyal.
Faithful to the belief that love is enough. And all this on the very day those words escaped both our lips…
I get back to the airport, and soon we’re in front of my hanger. “How soon can we depart?”
My pilot isn’t my regular. He’s a tall, skinny Hispanic man with a black mustache named Emmanuel. He’s flown me once or twice. “Twenty minutes,” he says. “We’re still waiting for fuel.”
I wasn’t even gone long enough for the plane to get fueled. As impatient as I am, I take this as a good sign.
We’re in the air in a half hour, and by my calculations, I’ll meet Sophia at the Orchestra Hall with fifteen minutes to spare. That’s it. That’s all the margin for error. I do not want to be late strictly out of principle.
I bounce my leg the whole flight. Constantly turning my wrist to check my watch. I’m a fidgeting portrait of impatience. It’s soon night. The anti-collision light strobes in the dark cabin every few seconds.
I need to make it to the orchestra on time. But that’s hardly the only thing torturing me. If I don’t give in to Cody, he’ll post the video. There’s no explaining that to Sophia. The pros and cons.
“It’s going to be a rough descent,” Emmanuel says over the intercom. “There’s a storm over the city. Might be ten minutes late on arrival time. They’re plowing the runway before every landing.”
I lean my head back and watch the clouds fly by the wing. I’d almost rather risk it and not text Sophia that I might be late. But I have to let her know. I try to text her over the Wi-Fi, but the message still fails to send.
There’s a storm over the city.
“Of course there is,” I say aloud.
It matches the one in my heart.