Chapter Eight
EIGHT
Callahan
With Virtu’s front door locked and a quick handwritten sign taped to it letting any potential customers know that we’ve had to close a little early today, I hustle back up the stairs to my apartment.
I open the door and find Annie sitting on the couch.
The first thing I notice is that her cheeks have returned to their usual pale pink.
Thank god. My brain begins to relay to my body: It’s all good, she’s feeling better.
We can start calming down now. But the announcement is cut off abruptly as I take in the rest of the scene.
Because she isn’t simply sitting there with her usual light flush; she is sitting there looking downright giddy over something.
Like Harold when he heard that the florist down the street that he’s always inexplicably hated was getting audited by the IRS.
And then I spot the probable cause: the goose, staring back at me from its uncovered display case in the corner.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I can explain,” I say, but it comes out as a question.
Because I don’t know for sure that I can.
At least not in a way that somehow negates the actual reality of the situation, which is that an almost certainly illegal taxidermy bird is in my living room.
I’m pretty sure I can’t just cover it back up and convince Annie she didn’t see it.
She stares at me for a long time, that cat-that-got-the-cream expression on her face. Then, finally: “You know, this actually makes so much sense.”
“It…does?”
“I was wondering why you acted so weird with that customer yesterday.”
“You’ll, um, have to be more specific,” I say. “I act kind of weird with a lot of the customers.”
“Mrs. Eileen White. Who wanted to get a closer look at the porcelain goose figurine. And you acted so startled, as if she’d asked if you wanted her to get on her knees and blow you.”
“Jesus, Annie. I could’ve gone my entire life without that mental image.”
“Consider it a present,” she says. “So, tell me. What’s with Behonkcé here, Cal?”
My heart thuds against my rib cage and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or the intense desire that stupid pun managed to infuse into my system.
It feels as if I’m being seen by someone for the first time in ages, for better or for worse.
For a split second, I wonder what would happen if, instead of responding to her question, I charged forward and pressed my mouth to that infuriatingly smug smile…
I shake my head, and thankfully it shakes some sense back into me as well.
Perhaps there’s a chance she doesn’t know about the law?
No, she definitely knows. Of course she knows.
Anyone who sells antiques or items made from them would be well aware of what can and cannot be sold or repurposed.
Annie might be many things, but unintelligent and uninformed are not among them. “It’s just, uh, a goose,” I manage.
“I can see that, yes. What’s it doing in your living room?”
My hands link behind my back in an attempt to hide the way they’re threatening to tremble, and I scan the display case as if needing to take a good look at it to answer her question. “It appears to be standing?”
Her smile goes wider, and I can’t tell if it’s because she finds that humorous or if she’s simply pleased with the fact that she’s backed me into a metaphorical corner. The latter, I think, because next she says, “You know, there was this law passed in 1918…” with a little raise of her eyebrows.
“This goose is an exception.” I still haven’t managed to learn a damn thing about it to know for sure, but there’s a chance this isn’t a lie. And it’s all I’ve got in my own defense.
“Oh, so you have the paperwork for it?” she asks. “A permit?”
I nod in a bizarrely mechanical manner that is entirely unconvincing, even to me.
“I’ve never seen one of those before,” she continues. “I’d love to take a gander—oh, pardon the pun. If you don’t mind, that is. Just so I know authentic documentation when I see it, in case I ever come across something similar in my own business.”
The calculated insouciance of her words continues to hit me like a repetitive punch to my sternum, creating a heavy sensation in my chest that I’m tempted to call panic, despite it feeling suspiciously like awe. “It is…not currently accessible,” I say.
“But you would find a way to access it if U.S. Fish and Wildlife showed up, right? I mean, otherwise you would be fined out the wazoo. And surely the publicity would be terrible for your career. For Virtu.”
“Are you…threatening me?” I ask slowly.
“Oh, no. It’s not a threat, Cal. I’m just saying, having this goose and no proof of its provenance isn’t a particularly good spot to be in, especially in our line of work.
So I would have to assume, being the consummate professional that you are, you certainly wouldn’t risk possessing it without the proper documentation. ”
Her words are complemented by a wide-eyed attempt at innocence that is so transparently false that there’s no mistaking her intentions. She is absolutely threatening me.
I narrow my eyes and fold my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Annie?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re clearly getting at something here. Just tell me what it is.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, that self-satisfied grin still firmly in place. “You know, it’s been pretty shitty working with you so far,” she says.
“Yeah. That’s why I apologized.”
“And believe me, I do appreciate that. But it would be nice to have some sort of guarantee that the rest of my time here is going to go more smoothly. That all of my ideas won’t be immediately shot down like our unlucky feathered friend here presumably was.
” Annie looks from me, to the goose, and back to me.
“Let me make a few changes in the shop and see how you like them. Allow me to help customers. Treat me as an equal while I’m here.
And maybe, to thank you, your little secret stays between us. ”
“You’re blackmailing me into letting you, what, hang some fucking fishing line in my window display?”
“I mean, yeah. Among other things,” she says.
“Annie, that’s—that’s stupid.”
“No, what’s stupid is having an illegal taxidermy bird in the apartment above your antique store, Callahan.”
My legs give out as soon as I reach the couch, and I drop onto the faded leather. “I know,” I say. “God, do I know.”
Two feet separate Annie and me when I cradle my head in my hands, but when I look back up a moment later, she’s right beside me, our thighs a mere inch from touching.
“I don’t know what to do,” I confess, my voice barely a whisper.
“I offered to look into it for a friend, to try to figure out where it came from so we can contact the right people and get the paperwork sorted to donate it. But I haven’t been able to find anything helpful at all, and Harold and Inés left with so little notice, and then you arrived, and I just…
oh god, Annie, I’m so tired. I haven’t slept properly in days.
When I do manage to get a few hours, I have nightmares that the authorities are going to knock down my door and take me to jail.
Or that the goose is going to come back to life and bite my nose off.
” I leave out the baffling one I had last night where Annie sat atop the counter and asked if I wanted to fool around after she was done eating, to which I was desperate to say yes, but the only thing that would come out of my mouth was a strangled-sounding honk.
I cover my face again. This time a warm hand comes to my shoulder, and the tension in the muscle there melts away beneath the touch. I know logically the contact shouldn’t be reassuring, considering it’s from a person actively trying to blackmail me, but physically? It feels so nice.
“Wow. You really weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been under stress.
” Her voice still contains a touch of humor, and I guess I can’t really blame her.
This situation is absurd. Downright silly, really.
Annie’s thumb strokes idly over the edge of my shoulder blade, tracing it back and forth over and over before she says quietly, “What can I do to help?”
The baser parts of me hear this as a sexual proposition—which it most certainly is not intended to be—and I swallow hard as I peek through my fingers. “You could start with not blackmailing me,” I suggest.
“Yeah, no, I’m still doing that,” she responds with a little pat of her hand against my back before she ends the contact altogether. “But it’s because I want to help. I don’t think you understand how much I can do for you, Cal.”
The words bring a mental image that makes my cheeks go hotter and I suddenly feel very fortunate that I still have not fully uncovered my face.
“I think I’m starting to,” I manage.
“Good. So let me take care of customers and daily business stuff. Then you’ll be free to do more research on the goose and hopefully expedite the process of getting rid of it.”
I finally raise my head and look at her. “But you’re going to change things,” I say, and it strikes me that I sound like a whiny child.
“Yeah, probably. But change can be good sometimes.” She must read the doubt on my face, because she adds, “And I won’t do anything that can’t be changed back if you wind up hating it.
I promise.” Annie folds one of her long legs beneath her as she shifts the way she’s sitting. “I know Virtu is important to you.”