Diego
Ishould tell her yes.
I should tell her I’ll wait.
It’s the easiest four words.
I’ll wait for you.
But they don’t come.
The past few days here have been some of the best, but also some of the worst. Watching Valentina be around people who love and care for her has been one of the best feelings.
She might not remember these people yet, but a part of her does, and that part is very obvious when it comes to interacting with them, cooking with them, cleaning with them, or even just sharing a drink together.
She’s gaining knowledge about herself and her life here and even if she crawls into bed exhausted at the end of every night, there’s a growing light in her eyes.
And I’m happy for her.
I love her. I want her to have her memories and her life back. I want her to feel cemented in her identity again, and I want her to be safe.
But I don’t fit in here.
These people are extremely powerful and capable of keeping her safe better than I ever could, and the work they do here is incredible.
I don’t even care that it’s criminal. I’m not here to judge.
What they do is amazing and she is a part of that.
She will always be a part of that. But the more I learn, the more I see that I don’t fit in here.
The more she remembers, the closer I get to that morning when she wakes up and realizes she doesn’t want to be with the person who found her during the worst moment of her life. If I don’t serve as a reminder, I’ll definitely serve as a hindrance.
So her desire for a promise weighs heavily in the air between us as I smile at her. “You look good,” I say.
She beams at me and kisses my cheek again. “I’ll be back!” Then, she turns and races down the hallway to where Bradley is waiting, and she takes a part of me with her. A part that will never leave her.
Granted, my confusion might just be fueled by a sense of inadequacy when surrounded by people with more power and skills than I’ve ever seen in my life, but it doesn’t help that Mindy’s been blowing up my phone for the past four hours, begging for help.
If ever I needed a reminder of how different our lives are…
It’s not unusual for her to beg for my help, but her last message was worryingly cryptic. I’ve received suicide threats from her before and yet, something about the way she texts so cryptically gets to me.
[Mindy] This time, it really will be your fault. I hope you’re happy, cunt.
What does she mean by that?
Tapping my phone against my fingers, I glance back up the hallway. Valentina wants me to wait, but each minute I wait is a minute closer to a dreaded future where I do end up with her death on my conscience.
And as much as I hate to admit it, she is right.
Mindy’s life is a mess because of me. I didn’t put the drugs in her hand, nor did I force her to shoot up that night, but I did lay it all out for her and then pass out.
I’m indirectly responsible, and as much as I’ve fought for distance between us, leaving her at a time like this feels like the final nail in my corrupt moral coffin.
Valentina needs to focus on her memories. The sooner she does that, the sooner she can catch whoever hurt them and then do… whatever these people do to people like that.
I need to help Mindy.
I can help Mindy.
Heading toward the door, I’m almost there when a man wanders past with a pack of smokes in hand. Frank, I think I heard his name was. He’s a member of Bradley’s security, from what I understand, and he flashes me a polite smile.
“Hey, Frank, is it?”
Frank stops and nods. “Diego?”
“Yeah, uhm… listen. I know this might sound kind of pathetic. I’m feeling all sorts of claustrophobic right now and I’ve been pacing the halls trying to ease it, but it ain’t working.
I know there’s a door to the roof but uh…
” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m afraid of heights and I think that would make me feel ten times worse.
And before you ask, I did consider the meditation stuff, but I just need to be outside, to breathe.
Is that something you can help me with without making me feel insanely emasculated? ”
To my surprise, Frank’s smile is rather sympathetic.
“Your fear of being emasculated here is misplaced. No one would judge you for what you’re feeling and you shouldn’t judge yourself either.
Come with me.” He turns and leads the way toward the main elevator and slides his thumb over the pad.
“Take the elevator down. At the bottom, a man called George will keep an eye on you until you’re ready to come back. ”
“Really? I mean… thanks.”
Frank smiles again. “You shouldn’t punish yourself for being overwhelmed,” he replies. “No one here ever expects that.”
I hate that he’s nice to me. I hate that I lied to him, but when I step into the elevator, I push those feelings aside. Time away will give me time to think. I can deal with Mandy, try to settle some of these unresolved feelings, and then be back before they even know that I’m gone.
Maybe there will be some closure with Mindy that will help settle all these colliding feelings about Valentina.
Love merges with my insecurities about not being enough for her, forming a wall around my heart to protect myself from the inevitable conversation in which she tells me she doesn’t actually care about me and she was just trauma-bonding.
The elevator reaches the bottom, but there’s no man there to greet me. In fact, the small lobby is empty. One door leading outside rests ajar against what looks to be a leather briefcase, while the stink of cigarette smoke drifts through the gap. That must be George.
If he sees me, I’ll never get away.
I head through the other door, which leads to a series of short corridors and heavy doors until I spill out into a lobby heaving with people and tourists, all excited to explore the Empire State Building.
Just another reminder of how out of my depth I really am.
It’s easy to melt into the crowd and become one with the swell, letting myself get carried along with a group of people heading toward the exit.
My heart beats faster and faster with every step and my back twitches in anticipation of a heavy hand and a voice demanding where I’m going.
None of that comes.
I step out into the brisk New York air and melt into the crowds surging past the building, following like a sheep with no direction. I don’t breathe properly until I’m a few blocks away and the Empire State Building is back to being a decoration on the skyline.
My heart remains heavy.
Being without Valentina is weird, but the longer I’m aware, the more utterly surreal the whole situation seems. Mafia Kings and Queens, a secret group maintaining a fragile peace, assassins and killers and bounty hunters…
It’s nauseating. I walk a few more blocks before I hail a taxi and reel off Mindy’s address.
What kind of life am I leading where Mindy, of all people, will be the normality I’m craving?
As we drive through the city, I text her back several times, but she doesn’t respond. I even try to taunt her into a response by talking about Valentina, but there’s still nothing. Calling her just takes me to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s Diego. Answer the damn phone. You can’t say shit like that and then start ignoring me because it makes me think something has happened. Answer your fucking phone!”
I sigh deeply while the taxi driver sucks on his teeth. “Women trouble?”
“You have no idea,” I mutter. Gazing down at my phone, I hover over the contact I made for Valentina when I bought her that phone. It will be useless now, surely. Those people, the Suit, they surely have their own phones and numbers which are much more secure than what I got for her.
The temptation to call her fades. I won’t reach her, anyway.
My attention drifts out of the taxi and remains fixed on the dark streets, the incoming stormy cloud, and then the patter of raindrops that decorate the window just as we slow and arrive outside Mindy’s apartment.
“Thanks, man.” I pay with a tap of my phone and slip out of the car, then I linger on the sidewalk until the taxi leaves.
Knowing Mindy, I could be walking into any kind of disaster. She threatened me in my kitchen, followed me from Tech’s place, and was ready to scream and alert those people to where we were hiding, then called fucking bounty hunters on me.
Anything for a bit of cash.
Yet here I am because, despite it all, I still feel that ache of responsibility.
I take the steps two at a time, then knock on the door quickly.
No answer.
I knock again. “Mindy! Open up! It’s Diego!”
Silence.
I knock again, this time for longer, and then I pull at the door handle. It doesn’t budge. “Mindy, are you in there? Come on, open the damn door! Don’t make me kick it down!”
Still nothing.
No curses. No sound of movement. Is she really not here?
Returning to my phone, I dial her number and let it ring out while pressing my ear to the door. Her apartment remains silent, not even a hint of her regular, obscenely loud ringtones.
She really must be out somewhere.
“Fuck,” I mutter, lightly jogging back down the steps. “Where the fuck is she?
Tech is my next call and he answers on the third ring. “Yo?”
“Tech, have you heard from Mindy?”
“Yo! My man! Diego!” He grunts as if sitting up.
“You are a fucking star, man. Are you enjoying the riches you pulled in for us both? Because I gotta tell ya, my boss was real fucking happy you sold all that so quickly! Ain’t sure why I never thought of selling to those rich fuckers upstate, but it’s kind of genius.
Anyway, he wants to talk to you, man. Well, not talk.
He talks t’me, y’know?” Tech laughs. “Anyway, he wants you to sell more and I told him you’re in.
You’re in, right? You wouldn’t screw me over? ”
He talks so fast that I barely catch half of what he’s saying. “Yeah, whatever, listen, Tech. I need to find Mindy. Have you seen or heard from her?”
“Mindy?” He sucks loudly on something and then groans. “Nah, man. Not since that night you sold for me. But I know a couple of places she hangs. Drop round and we’ll talk business and I can take you, alright?”
“Alright. I’ll be there soon.”
“Wicked!” Tech hangs up just as the skies open and I’m drenched in seconds.
I’m even more thoroughly drenched after a short bus ride and ten-minute walk to Tech’s place, so I huddle in my jacket and duck my head into my collar as I approach his door and knock quickly.
“Tech, hurry up, man! It’s pouring down and I gotta piss!”
Footsteps trudge painfully slowly to the door, but Tech finally opens it and I groan softly. “Thanks, can I use your bathroom? I gotta…. Tech?”
Something’s… off.
He stares at me with glassy eyes and his skin is somewhat paler than when we last met. Not unusual, given his line of work, but something about the way he stares at me, unblinking, makes my stomach run cold. Both his arms hang limply at his side and his mouth hangs open, jaw slack.
“Tech… you good?”
I glimpse a shadow moving behind Tech just as he sags forward, and as he collapses into my arms and knocks me back down the steps, I’m struck with one thought before I collide with the ground below.
His skin is deathly cold.