Chapter 11
I received a text message from Enzo at seven.
Club Montari. I could have sworn I’d never heard anyone mention it.
It didn’t matter. I had time to go home, change, have dinner with Gina, and look up the location.
My roommate was in full-blown panic mode.
She’d fired off three more texts, all with a photo of the bag of cash.
“Still here, don’t worry,” followed by, “I swear, every time I check, it multiplies,” and then, “Mind if I borrow a bit for coffee? And maybe a little more for dinner? You don’t need it back, right?
” A minute later, she sent a selfie, grinning widely, holding an overpriced-looking latte in one hand and a fancy burrito in the other.
With Gina’s help, the money would vanish before Monday without a hitch.
I left for home around eight. André was still at the office, and so was Bastian, though it seemed he wasn’t planning to tell the boss about my intrusion just yet. If he was waiting for me to leave to report it, at least I wouldn’t get a scolding until Monday.
I walked into the house and was immediately greeted by the rich aroma of soy and Mrs. Meng’s booming voice from the kitchen. Gina emerged to meet me, her smile warm and guilty at the same time.
“I should have warned you,” she exclaimed, helping me take off my coat. “But I was on my way to order some food from that expensive Cantonese place I love… and my mom showed up. Sorry!”
Chaoyue Meng (who told me once to call her Charli and then never mentioned it again) was a tall woman with sleek black hair and a flat nose that always seems to be turned up in disapproval.
She’s a hairdresser, which apparently gives her the right to constantly criticise Gina’s vibrant, ever-changing hair colours.
“You’re going to lose all your hair! Worse, you’ll never find a husband! ” she nags.
Gina is a lesbian, so I think she’s quite happy with the thought.
“Vera!” Mrs. Meng greeted me with two kisses. “You’ll have dinner with us. My daughter said we’re celebrating tonight.”
I said yes, of course, though it wasn’t really a question.
“What are we celebrating?” I asked.
My roommate guided me to the table, which was covered with an array of dishes in paper containers, with the name of the Cantonese restaurant in large letters covering the entire white tablecloth.
“Your raise, silly,” she said, winking at me.
She set out three bowls and chopsticks, and we sat down to eat.
Gina had ordered confit duck, shrimp dumplings, fish balls, fried rice, and egg tarts.
She and her mother finished almost all the food; I barely touched it.
I felt a lump in my stomach that grew heavier as the time to head to the club approached.
“Have some more, Vera, you need to eat well.” Mrs. Meng put a dumpling on my plate. “You’ll be going out to celebrate later, right?”
I glanced at Gina.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“I knew it!” Gina exclaimed, slamming her hand on the table and sending a bowl of soy sauce toppling over. “Did Enzo invite you out again?”
I shoved a dumpling into my mouth to dodge a reply. Meanwhile, Chaoyue Meng stacked a dozen paper napkins on the table, dabbing at the spilled sauce like it was some sort of crime scene cleanup.
“Come on. Where are you going? Can you tell me? Wait, I’m not sure I want to know…”
“To Club Montari,” I coughed, choking on a piece of shrimp. “Have you ever heard of it?”
Gina had already pulled out her phone.
“Regina,” her mother tried to take the phone away, unsuccessfully. “No phones at the table!”
“This is important, Maa,” Gina turned to me, showing me her phone screen. “Look. It’s not far.”
It was practically next door to Cutnam. The club’s website was a mystery: just an address and a phone number, the rest a black void, like they’d never bothered to finish the site.
No details on what kind of club it was, no lineup of famous DJs, no ticket sales, no hype about special events. Just nothing.
“Do they have social media?” I asked.
“Couldn’t find any,” Gina replied, her eyes narrowing. “Seems like a sketchy place, you never know… But hey, Enzo invited you. You’re going, right?”
I knew what Gina was thinking. A young girl walking alone at night to an unknown club with a bag full of money didn’t seem like a good idea. But I hadn’t had time to tell Gina that this wasn’t an extension of our date, but that Enzo had offered to help me, so why wouldn’t I trust him?
I had to go. Anything that helped me get rid of the money before Monday was worth the risk.
But Enzo had never said I had to go alone. If he wanted to use the night to spend more time with me… oh, come on. He’d waited a whole year. He could wait one more week. So I handed the phone back to Gina and asked the question I knew she was dying to hear.
“Do you want to come with us?”
Her face lit up.
“You mean, go to a mysterious club I’ve never heard of and can’t find any information about online?” Chaoyue Meng removed the soy sauce bottle from the table before my roommate had the chance to slam it again. “Of course! You don’t mind, V?”
“I’d prefer you came.”
Mrs. Meng crossed her arms.
“Daughter, won’t you ask for my opinion?”
“No, Maa. Baa and Daidai mentioned they were having a night… what do they call it?”
“Men’s night,” she whispered.
“Exactly. You can join them for once.”
“I can’t join, Regina, I’m not a man!”
Gina stood up and ran to her mother, hugging her from behind.
“Well, Vera and I are going to have a young people’s night,” she continued, laughing. “Guess what else you’re not? Don’t take it the wrong way, Maa.”
Mrs. Meng rolled her eyes, defeated.
“Do you need me to drive you? I’m not letting you drive and drink.”
“No need. We’ll take a taxi, right, V?”
We were running late. The taxi had been waiting outside for almost twenty minutes while Gina and I decided how to proceed that night.
Not knowing what kind of place Club Montari was, we weren’t sure how much money to bring.
We concluded that the more, the better. The best approach was to divide it.
If Gina stayed with me all night, we would still be following the rules of the letter.
Gina put about a hundred thousand pounds in her bag, and I did the same.
I felt both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.
We rode in silence to the address she had given the driver.
I kept staring at the letter I’d received fourteen hours earlier, searching for some hidden message or clue.
Time slipped out of my fingers, and it all felt like a cruel joke.
Was the money fake? Were they planning to arrest me after the three days?
Now I see the irony. At least, about that last part, I wasn’t entirely wrong.
One thing was certain: whoever sent me the letter with all that money knew me—really knew me.
Why else would they think this was the way to reel me in?
I went to law school for two reasons: to prove myself and to help people like Mrs. Meng, like Gina, like my mother, people the system chewed up and spit out.
Yeah, I see the irony now. Here I am, working for a big-shot law firm, defending a con artist. So, Vera, what happened to your whole “helping people” thing?
Saving lives that sank? Well, here’s the deal: to help anyone else, I’ve got to help myself first. And Saidi pays well—can’t argue with that.
Two sunken ships don’t save each other; they just end up in a watery graveyard together.
The important thing is, whoever it was had created that rule to screw me over. You can’t share the money with anyone. You’re a hypocrite. A fake. A fraud.
A man opened the car door for me. It wasn’t the taxi driver, but Enzo. Gina stepped out behind me after giving the driver a generous tip.
“Hi!” Gina thrust her hand out to Enzo, all smiles. “I’m Gina. Don’t worry if she’s never mentioned me; Vera’s got this bad habit of keeping the good things to herself.” She jabbed me with her elbow, leaning in close. “Wake up.”
Enzo shook her hand with a polite smile, then turned to me, greeting me with two quick kisses on the cheek, his lips lingering a moment too long. He seemed different in the shadows—darker somehow, like the empty alleys near campus where the streetlights didn’t reach.
“Ever been here before?” he asked, nodding toward a black, unmarked door that looked like it led straight to a basement.
It was a solid metal door with no windows, no signs, not even a line out front.
Just a door, stark and uninviting, sandwiched between two graffiti-covered brick walls that looked like they hadn’t seen a power wash in decades.
Gina’s eyes darted around the narrow, dimly lit street, taking in the faded flyers plastered to the walls and the trash-strewn gutters. “Doesn’t look familiar,” she said, a slight frown crossing her face.
Enzo’s grip tightened on my hand. “Good, now is my turn to surprise you. I promise it’s better inside,” he said, his voice smooth.
He’d changed into a black shirt and jeans, blending into the shadows like he was part of them.
I’d switched into a pink dress with little heart-shaped patterns, trying to bring some light into this gloomy corner of the city.
Even in my heels, he towered over me. I clutched my purse, the strap digging into my palm.
“Let’s go,” I said, tugging him toward the door, trying to sound casual, though my voice came out a bit too high-pitched.