Chapter 14
14
December 13, 1972
Dear Diary:
It’s already been hard to keep coming back home. Every journey back to Biloxi threatens to tear up each new piece of me I’ve created. When I’m in New York, I’m Dr. Grant, the self-assured woman who speaks before a classroom about neoclassicism. But when I come home, I’m met with suspicion. The fast girl who knows too much. The Grants are proud of my education and ability to get out of the swamp, but there’s an undercurrent of distrust.
And Auntie Belinda leads the charge, lobbing quiet, innocent accusations. “Girl, you don’t need to wear those shoes down here. Lord knows you don’t want to dirty ’em up in this mud...” Or my favorite: “I didn’t know teaching got you diamond earrings like that...” Her siblings and my cousins will laugh to relieve the tension of me showing up, bearing gifts from Europe. My heart falls into my stomach every time and I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from crying.
But Daddy was always there to tell her off. “Oh, Lindy, hush up now. Dorrie has always liked shiny things. And when you’re a smart cookie like her, you can buy anything you want.” Auntie Belinda would quiet down for a minute, but the way she stared at me said she knew better. She could have never guessed what I did for Cartier earrings, but she knew it wasn’t just because I’m a smart cookie.
I don’t know if they realize it, but this is the last time I’ll come back to Mississippi. My only reason to return was buried in the Beauvoir Memorial Cemetery today. My daddy now rests with Mama. I guess I was too late. If I had stolen my first painting ten years ago, I could have made Daddy retire earlier. He could have enjoyed the house I just bought him for a few more years. Instead, he chose to stay where he was. Worked his way up from porter to concierge...and then just stayed there until he had a heart attack.
Everyone was at the funeral, and it was overwhelming. Even Cousin Willy managed to get back from Vietnam just in time. He looks like a shell of himself. Not that his mother really noticed. While Auntie Belinda was hollering and crying for the Lord to take her, I saw Willy slip from the pews and leave the church. And even though I was sitting in the front pew, I followed him. He jerked loose the necktie of his dress greens and headed for the full parking lot. “Where you headed, William?” His brown face shined with perspiration even though it’s winter. I think I saw relief in his eyes, though.
“I needed a smoke.”
Well, so did I.
We sat in his car, where he rolled some reefer. I did my best but kept coughing. Willy is a professional, though. I guess you have to be with four years in the jungle. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he finally told me. I thanked him and told him the same because it had to be true. You don’t get to leave Saigon without losing something. He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. I might have been the first person to tell him something like that. “I’m glad I saw you today because I ain’t about to come back here if I can help it.”
I smiled with tears in my eyes. “Me neither.”
“Where you headed?”
I told him I was going back to New York and staying, that he was free to visit me anytime he wanted. He said he’d get around to it when he got settled in Los Angeles. “You gonna be okay?”
By then, a nice fuzzy feeling came over my body and my chest didn’t feel quite as tight. “Shiiiiit... I will be.”
We laughed. And it was the best laugh I’d felt in Biloxi in the longest time. I hate that it was at my daddy’s funeral, but he knows I love him. I just don’t like the place I come from. If I had my way, I’d be running every damn day. My feet would never get tired. I took Willy’s hand and squeezed his fingers. “And you will be, too,” I told him.
Celeste folded the corner of the page over and drew a deep breath. She sat in the back of the Gulfstream jet where it was a bit quiet. They had been in the sky for about four hours before she asked their steward to pour her a bourbon. Celeste had barely touched it as she read through Doris’s entries. Apparently, her mentor and Sebastian were spending quite a bit of time together outside of her studies. Frankly, Celeste was surprised by how little was written about her time at Spelman and then Columbia. But she remembered that these entries were curated for a reason.
This passage of her life, when her father died, quietly broke Celeste’s heart. Doris had obviously felt alienated from her family, no doubt keeping a large part of her life secret. Celeste didn’t have any experience with that. As the last of her family, she didn’t have to lie to those ones she loved. She rubbed her temples before finally taking her first sip of bourbon. The sweet burn stung her throat and warmed her belly.
“Are you going to get any sleep?”
Her head shot up to find Santiago standing in the aisle. He was out of his suit jacket and shoes, looking a bit more comfortable than usual. “I’m not sure.” As far she could tell, the others were taking advantage of the red-eye flight. “Sit with me for a minute,” she said, patting an open space on the couch.
He joined her, took the glass of bourbon from her and helped himself to a sip. “Reading Doris’s diary?”
Celeste drew her legs to her chest and snuggled against Santiago. They fell into a quiet sharing of whiskey, passing it back and forth. “You ever think about why Doris chose us to help her steal?”
Santiago tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
She wasn’t sure what she was asking, but a thought scratched at the back of her mind after reading that passage. “Was it because we didn’t have family?”
“My dad was incarcerated before he died,” he corrected. “And Rafael will hopefully get out in a year or two.”
“Sure, but your dad and brother were part of the criminal underworld. You’d never have to lie to them about what you do. Beatrice is the only one who has a straight relative. Her dad has no idea what we do.” Celeste faced Santiago and took another sip of whiskey. “Do you think it’s a bad idea to drag Bea around the globe for this? Will this mess her up?”
Santiago’s dark brows furrowed. “Her enthusiasm for this job doesn’t seem to match your concerns.”
“Probably not. She’s been begging for bigger jobs...”
He waved a hand, dismissing her. “She’s a big girl. She’ll figure out something to tell her father.”
“Hmm...maybe you’re right. I’ve met him, really nice guy. He came to the store one day to meet me. He was so proud of his daughter when he saw her work.” She remembered how he walked around the store, afraid to touch anything. He was a short, hefty man, the opposite of his tall, willowy daughter. But they shared the same bright grin and dark, smiling eyes.
“Nice guy?” Santiago asked, stroking his mustache. “Did he seem overly protective?”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? You can’t really be sniffing around my assistant, Santi.”
His eyes flitted to the front of the jet where Beatrice slept. “Don’t be crude, mana. I’m not sniffing, I’m observing,” he said with a low purr. “She’s a fascinating woman who I’m very interested in...”
“This is where I give you the obligatory ‘if you hurt her, I’ll stick your nuts in a vise and crank’ speech. Beatrice is my ward.”
“You should know me well enough to know how hot that sounds,” he teased. “Now I’m imagining kissing your innocent ward.”
Celeste slapped his arm. “Shut up.”
“I’m making love to your ward,” he whispered.
She jerked his ear. “I swear to God, I will end you, Santi.”
He hissed as he tried to fight her off. “Fucking hell, CeCe!”
“She’s not one of your conquests,” Celeste whispered.
“Bea is not a conquest. Like I said, I’m very interested in her. She’s a beautiful chatterbox whose mind is like a computer. I like her, you loba loca.” When he straightened away from her, he smoothed down his dress shirt and took her drink back.
“You just met her.”
“Have you never heard of instant attraction?” he asked, raising a brow.
“You’re too old for her,” Celeste countered.
“Ouch. You know how to cut a thirty-four-year-old very deep. Do you abuse Magnus like this?”
“Magnus deserves his abuse, too,” she muttered.
“For real, though, how long are you two going to be at each other’s throats? The Stockholm job wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t your fault. If anything, Doris sent us out with half a plan that you two tried to cobble together. It was probably doomed from the start.”
“Magnus literally fumbled the bag,” Celeste said. “I tossed the jewels into the boat and he couldn’t catch them.”
“Then you tossed yourself in the water and he had to catch you,” Santiago added. “Apparently, saving you ...was slightly more important than the job?”
“If he had let me swim—”
“In the pitch-black water? While it was raining? The river current was not in our favor that night. I had a rough time keeping the boat under control as it was.”
Anger coiled inside her chest as she listened to Santiago’s excuses for their collective failure. She absolutely did not need to remember that Magnus saved her. The fact that she needed to be snatched before being swept out to the Baltic Sea was so fucking embarrassing.
“This is why you left him, and then us?”
That wasn’t exactly how she remembered it. After he fished her out of the river, they’d lost whatever magic they had. They no longer trusted one another to make decisions, to catch one another when they fell. “Things had changed,” she murmured. “I’m sure you guys saw it.”
Santiago nodded. “We did.”
“She never said anything, but I got the sense I’d let Doris down. She always talked about separating business from personal feelings. Magnus and I clearly didn’t do that and look where we ended up.” It was the first time Celeste had admitted the thought aloud and immediately felt guilty. She looked to her friend to gauge his expression.
He rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. “Doris couldn’t possibly be disappointed in the woman she trained to become her. Like I said, she sent us on a fool’s errand. We did the best we could under the circumstances. She may have been on the radio that night, but Doris wasn’t fully there . Didn’t you notice something was off in Tangier?”
She didn’t exactly remember it like that. Acquiring the Grecian horse statue in Tangier was stressful, but it was also thrilling, and they managed to pull it off. She couldn’t remember Doris being distracted when she looked back. Only excitement.
Celeste sighed, not entirely believing Santiago. “So, how’s the club going?”
“I’m hurt that you haven’t stopped by,” he said, pulling a face.
Santiago’s club, El Carnicero, was a business front for the illegal chop shop he ran. The nightclub was in the Meatpacking District, not too far from where she lived. While Celeste had visited a couple times, with the intention of seeing Santiago, she always chickened out at the last second. She felt like she’d let him down, too. Soon, it just became easier to stay away. “I’m sorry, Santi.”
“You’re carrying a lot of something, amor. You need to figure out what it is and let it go. It shouldn’t have taken Doris’s death to bring us back together.”
She nodded, finishing off the whiskey. “You’re right.”
Santiago gasped. “I’m right? Did my CeCe say that I am right?”
This pulled a grin from Celeste. “A broken clock can be right twice a day.”
“So, the gang is back together and you’re going to play nice, right?”
She stared at him with a blank expression. Now, why did she have to play nice? After spending the past twenty-four hours with him, it was evident that Magnus was just as confusing as she remembered. “It’s all business from here on out.”
“Was it business last night?” Santiago asked innocently.
“God, you’re the worst.”
Her friend chuckled. “He told me that you two pulled a Ball and Chain at a jewelry counter.”
“Did he?”
“How did it go?” Santiago asked.
“Well enough.”
He eyed her closely, but let it slide. She was grateful that he chose not to interrogate her. “Thank you for the drink. I think I’m going to close my eyes before we land. You better get some rest, too.”
“I will,” she said, placing her empty glass on the table beside her.
He stood, stretched his lean limbs and flashed her a feral grin. “We’re on the hunt again. How exciting is that?”
This was one thing she could agree with Santiago on. Celeste was ecstatic with the possibility of getting into criminal mischief. “The night before Christmas exciting.”