Chapter 24
ROGUE
We meet Sting at the corner of Calloway and Fifth at noon, as we agreed.
Armen isn't there, but Sting’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching the street. He looks at us when we round the corner, nods, and walks toward us.
"Armen went back," he says.
"Yeah? What happened?"
"Kade sent word. Fischer isn't where he should be. Hasn't been seen since this morning."
Vi looks at me. I look at Sting.
"He’s hiding," I say.
"Most likely."
"Sounds like he's scared."
Sting nods.
"Armen will find him," Vi says.
"Let's keep moving," I say. "Armen knows where we are."
Sting heads east toward another address, one of the shell company registrations that points to a different part of the city. He'll be gone an hour, maybe two.
This leaves Vi and me with the rest of the afternoon.
"Lunch," Vi says.
"What? Where?"
"I don't know but I'm starving."
"I saw a place on the way here. Two blocks back. You remember the old diner?"
"It’s still open?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
It sure is if you can call an old diner with no customers and one waitress open. Formica countertops, several booths, and a chalkboard listing a meat loaf special remind me of the days when the place would be so packed, there’d be a line.
The woman behind the counter looks surprised to see us walk in. She offers no greeting.
"Coffee please," Vi says.
"Same," I say.
When the coffee arrives, Vi wraps both hands around her mug. "Do you ever think about leaving?"
"Leaving what?"
"The Rot. Rothwell. All of it. Starting somewhere else entirely."
I think about it. "I guess. Every once in a while. You?"
She turns from the window. "I used to. When things were falling apart and it seemed like there was nothing left worth staying for. I thought about going somewhere no one knew my father's name."
"Why didn't you?"
"Well, running felt like giving up. Like admitting they were right about him." She shrugs one shoulder. "And because I'm stubborn."
"That you are."
She almost smiles. "What about you? After the shop. Why didn't you leave?"
I look at the specials board, which probably lists the same thing every day. Even so, I haven't had meat loaf in a long time.
"Same reason, I guess. It felt like letting them win."
"We have that in common."
"Don't let it go to your head."
She laughs her real laugh, same as with the Led Zeppelin song. The woman behind the counter glances over and looks away. She probably hasn’t heard laughter in a long time.
We both get the meat loaf. It's simple and good and we eat without talking much. At some point, I think about the empty wall between suites 410 and 414, and the fake firm, and the “ceiling,” and I realize Vi is probably thinking about the same things. We just don't say it.
After a while, she says: "Do you think we'll find him? The ceiling guy?”
"Yeah."
"You keep saying that," she says, resting her hand on her chin.
"Because I keep meaning it."
She looks at me across the table. "Can I ask, Rogue, why this matters to you? The ceiling, Voss, all of it. You could have just stayed out of it. Not gotten involved. Ya know?"
"Few reasons."
"The shop?"
I nod. "The shop. My father. Everything they took and walked away from. I wasn't ready to fight it until you showed up and were ready to fight for your dad. You led the way."
She goes quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm glad you're out here. With me."
“Same."
She grins. "Smooth."
"Don't push it."
I reach across the table and take her hand. She looks down at it.
"You keep doing that," she says.
"Doing what?"
"Holding my hand. In public. Like you like me or something."
Ballbuster.
"Is it a problem?"
"No," she says. "Just noting it. What if people see?"
"I don't know. Maybe we'd better stop."
I try to pull my hand back. She tightens her grip.
I leave cash on the table. Vi slides out of the booth and I follow, placing my hand on the small of her back on the way past the counter. Briefly but enough.
Outside the diner, the afternoon is standing still, only interrupted by a delivery truck crawling past and two women chatting outside a closed hardware store. A kid on a bike cuts through the intersection without stopping, which is fine because there’s no reason to stop.
Sting is half a block up, walking toward us.
He doesn't say anything when he reaches us. We fall into step together, the three of us, Vi between us on the pavement. Her shoulder brushes mine on the left and Sting's on the right. She doesn't adjust. Doesn't widen the gap.
Just keeps walking.
Sting glances at me over Vi's head. One look. I know what he’s thinking, same thing I am, that Fischer's still missing, Armen's back at the Rot, and when we get through that gate, we're going to have to deal with whatever comes next.
But that's when we get there.
Right now, Vi's shoulder is against mine and her hand is still warm from where I held it.
I can work with that.