11. Isolde
Isolde
“So how is it really going?” Adeline asks me.
“Fine,” I say automatically.
We’re lying in the middle of the boxing ring at Leon’s, staring up at the metal ceiling.
Adeline usually works remotely but gets out most days to escape her house. She’s at home at Leon’s, always smiling cheekily at the gym owner when he leaves his office.
“Any description to fill out the use of that one word?” Adeline asks.
My hands sit on my tummy. The metal rafters are dusty. The baby curls at my nape are sticky with sweat.
A week and a half has passed since Tristan fucked me from behind. I haven’t been able to look at the sofa the same way since.
Which is a pity considering I’ve been stuck at home. I’ve put myself in a self-imposed exile.
It’s calmed Ren down, who left with Roma for their Alaskan cruise. Abe checks in, but he agrees with my idea of playing it safe, which is in line with his pacifist ways.
Tristan and I come to Leon’s several times a week. He works out with his guys, while I hit the treadmill until Adeline swings by for a chat. Tristan doesn’t say anything when he trails after us during our coffee run. I notice his shoulders don’t relax until we get back to my flat, though.
I’ve spent a lot of time reading. Lennie sends me book recommendations regularly, which is her way of saying she agrees with Ren and Abe. Everyone wants me to hide, and I guess I’ve given in.
I have a much better work-life balance than Ren, but after a week, I’m itching to do something. To go back to work. Ren believes I shouldn’t take on any more contracts. Part of me hopes Tristan would find me a child rapist to kill or something, but he hasn’t obliged.
Adeline’s knees sway as she lies on her back. “Everything okay with having a guy at your place?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s very protective, even when we’re at the gym.”
Normally, he’s making Luis do an insane amount of push-ups.
“That’s just what he’s paid to do.”
“Paid to stare at you all day?”
I’ve let my hair out of the ponytail I wore, a scrunchie around my wrist. The hair moves as I roll my head, not understanding the lilt of her voice.
“He likes you.” Adeline’s grin should be infectious.
It makes me nauseous.
We’ve got a routine, Tris and I. He gets up a smidgen before I do, just enough time to throw in a load of laundry or check one thing off my chore chart. He likes cooking, so he’s on breakfast duty. I try to help him with the dishes, but he normally picks up after himself as he cooks.
We workout, get coffee, come back home, and reset. Settle down with a book.
Ren gave him crap about only liking self-help books, but he admitted he likes fantasy. I told Ads, and she started sending recommendations, which he’s begrudgingly taken up.
He gets a lot more phone calls than I do. It’s not always business. His family calls him a lot, asking for help.
He tries to keep it private, but he was on the phone the other day with an auntie, discussing a leaking kitchen sink.
With Ren on vacation and Ben and Abe busy at Fujimori’s, the group chat has gone unusually quiet.
I’ve tried to occupy my time with helping Len plan the wedding. She’s got her dress fitting coming up soon.
“Do you like him?” Adeline asks, not letting me off the hook.
She’s just being nice. I can’t imagine she’s never heard the rumors, the teasing, about my crush on the Ghost.
“Do you?” She elbows me softly.
“He’s all right.”
“Hang on, wait a second. Have you two slept together?”
I’ve done my absolute best to ensure there are no awkward, weird vibes hanging over us. Luis does most of the talking when we’re all in the SUV. Tristan and I still talk, albeit politely.
It’s a certain instance and a certain lingering request that has been deemed completely off-topic.
Adeline shouldn’t be able to identify that something has happened between us. But she must be blessed with some innate romantic power because her brows lift, picking up the scent of a secret.
“Isolde.” Her voice lowers since we’re in the middle of the gym. “When? Before all this or after he moved into your apartment?”
“After,” I admit, caving easily. My chest unloosens just a bit, like I’ve just gotten something off it.
“And?” Adeline asks, barely containing her excitement.
“And that’s it.”
She gives me a look.
“I’m not lying.” I move my arm, cradling the back of my head. The encounter appears to be a one-and-done thing.
“It was okay, though?” she asks, and I know what she’s asking.
“Yeah, it was consensual.”
“I’d hoped. I meant during the encounter. It was good, wasn’t it?”
I could do with Leon rolling out another one of those box fans he’s got.
“Yeah,” I admit with a soft smile.
“But you don’t want to talk about it?” she gleams.
Laughter further loosens my chest. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m shit at talking about myself.”
It’s a fact I was dimly aware of but am now certain about after multiple people alluded to it within the span of a week.
“After the whole Leopold thing,” Adeline says his name with no hesitation, “my parents changed their opinion on therapists. Lennie had already started seeing Janis.”
At this point I think we’re all on a first-name basis with Len’s therapist, despite never interacting with her.
“My parents thought it might be a bit more difficult discussing my issues with someone not in the lifestyle. So they found someone who’s all in.”
My brow crinkles. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah,” she replies, blithely. “Super professional. Very strict with patient privacy. I sat in his office more intrigued with figuring out how he got to be where he is, helping the Bratva with their mental health, than anything else.”
“You really went?”
She rolls her head around. “A couple of times.”
“It didn’t help?”
Lennie talks about therapy like it’s this magical thing.
“I don’t know,” Adeline admits of her own experience. “It didn’t not help, but. . .”
Adeline is just as closed off as I am, but I think she knows how to play the game better.
She gives those around her just enough to think she’s happy and healthy.
They don’t see her looking off as she lifts weights.
Or how her face will fall blank before she snaps back into smiling mode when someone speaks to her.
“I can be that annoying person and give you his number,” Adeline offers. “He could help you with coping strategies. You know, since you’ve got a serial killer after you.”
“That was Ren.”
Laughter rumbles from her. “Sorry, I’m not sure how we’re categorizing the guy who put a hit out on you.”
I ignore her gaze, understanding the prying.
She doesn’t drag it out, though. “Seriously, I’ll give you the number just in case.”
“I don’t need to talk to someone about my dead sister.” I’ve gotten a crash course on handling grief. I’m good. “And I’m not wasting my breath speaking about Cade. I just want to be able to talk about myself like a normal human being.”
“How are we defining normal human being?”
I shoot her a look, not appreciating the humor.
But Adeline isn’t kidding. “You want to be better at icebreakers, or are we talking intimacy issues?”
I snort thinking that is also a joke.
It’s not. “Sharing your soul with someone is scary,” she says. “Learning to talk about yourself comes in waves. It’s chatting with new friends and telling old friends what’s going on with your life. Getting to know a person on a dating app. Letting in a new potential love match.”
That all sounds like a lot.
“All of those can be scary,” she explains. “And if you’re not used to talking about yourself, it can feel physically hard to do so.”
Lennie is the nervous Nellie in her family, but Adeline’s last words sound like she’s struggled to use her own limbs before.
I think about the swell of nerves when someone asks me to speak. How my tongue doesn’t work. It feels glued to the top of my unmoving mouth.
“How do you get it to not hurt?” I ask quietly.
“Practice.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She takes her time thinking. “Every time I see you, I’m going to ask you a question, specifically about yourself.
An event, an opinion, your favorite childhood memory.
I’m not going to be that person who forces you to talk about something you don’t want to.
If you don’t like a question, just tell me you want a new one.
But no matter what, you have to answer at least one question for the day. ”
I mull this over. It sounds both hard and not hard.
“Okay,” I agree slowly, knowing I need to do this. It’s like exercise. I hate it, but it’s important.
I’ll train my body not to clam up when it comes to talking about myself.
“You think you can answer a question today, or do you need time to get used to the idea?”
“No, ask me a question.”
She’s already got one ready. “How did you meet the Ghost?”
“But that’s not really a question about me.”
“You were the one meeting him, right? Tell me your version of events.”
“But why?”
“Because I’m nosy as fuck.” She laughs. “Lennie says she doesn’t even think Ren really knows the full story.”
That’s not quite true. “There’s not much to it.”
Adeline looks like a schoolteacher, silently telling me to continue with my report.
“I’d tracked down this guy. He liked strangling prostitutes.
The plan was to shoot him.” I lift myself off the mat, curling my knees to my chest. “Only this fucker in a mask comes out of nowhere and steals my kill without a fucking word. That ticked me right off. So I chased after him, letting him know that shit wouldn’t be tolerated. ”
“How did he handle that?” she asks, sitting up.
“He didn’t even stick around to listen. I think my hands might have been waving around as he got out of there.”
“Was the guy he killed connected to Marissa?” she guesses.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but yeah. Helped keep the girls in line.”
“Then I’m not sad to see him go.” She leans back on her palms. “But when did you guys first talk? It wasn’t that night.”
“No.” I twist the hem of my T-shirt, thinking. “Several months later we both had our sights on a much bigger prize. Some rich prick, who liked child porn. He worked at a fancy finance firm.”
I later came to realize he helped cook Marissa’s books.
“I get out of the elevator, and the fucking Ghost gets out of the one right next to it.”
“That sounds movie-worthy.”
I roll my eyes, still annoyed years later. “I’m chasing him down the hall, arguing with him that I got there first.”
By that point, we’d started to work around one another. It became clear that the Ghost had some serious business that he was up to. It still irked the hell out of me when he killed someone I’d set my sights on, though.
“The guy’s got this nice office with huge windows. He’s working at his desk, but something spooks him. He reaches for a gun, but he can’t shoot for nothing. Nearly took out the fucking lights.”
Sparks cascaded down. We’d lunged for cover. It became a good old-fashioned shootout in the middle of a skyscraper in Manhattan.
“That’s the night he took the mask off,” I tell Adeline. “So he could yell at me.”
“Did you yell back?” she asks with a coy smile.
I shrug. “We had to stick around longer that night, cleaning the place up. A couple of weeks later, Tyler knocks on my door. He got me Daisy’s will,” I say, referring to Russet’s best friend. Marissa pimped her out, not caring that she was pregnant.
Adeline glances beside me. “Is that Russet now?”
My phone lights up with a message.
Russet: Abe says you’re on house arrest, but I’m wondering if you want to jailbreak and come over? I have cookies.
“Russ wants me to come over.” I’m oddly touched.
She comes to Fujimori’s for book club or the occasional group event. I don’t know if anyone other than Len, who’s now going to be her sister-in-law, has ever been to her place.
“You want to come?” I ask, assuming Russ wouldn’t care.
“I’ve got a meeting that is supposedly very important. But it looks like you’re very popular.” She nods at the phone in my hand.
Hadrian’s brother is calling me.