Chapter 20 #2
Ran knelt beside the bike, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. He ignored the thumping bass of the music coming from the backyard. He ignored the laughter of the guests drifting on the wind. He was in his element here—just him and the machine.
"Pass me the multimeter," Ran said, his voice flat.
They worked for twenty minutes in the cold garage. Ran traced the electrical fault quickly—a corroded ground wire on the main harness. A simple fix for a complex machine.
"Done," Ran said, tightening the bolt. "Tell him to stop leaving it out in the salt air."
"You tell him," Michael laughed. "I gotta go get the paperwork signed. He said he’s near the pool."
"I'll wait here," Ran said. He didn't want to see the party. He didn't want to see the life he had thrown away.
"Come on, man," Michael urged. "Grab a soda or something. The view is nice."
Ran sighed, wiping his hands on a rag. "Fine. But I'm staying in the shadows."
They walked around the side of the house. The party came into view—a kaleidoscope of lights and costumes. Ran stayed back near the hedges, watching the spectacle with a detached, cynical eye.
Then, he froze.
Parked near the edge of the driveway, illuminated by a floodlight, was a black Ford Expedition.
Ran knew that car. He knew the license plate.
"Liam," Ran whispered.
He scanned the crowd. It didn't take long to find him. Liam stood out even in a costume. He was standing near the fire pit, wearing a velvet blazer, laughing at something a pirate was saying. He looked happy. He looked radiant. He looked like the King of New York that Michael had described.
Ran felt a pang of warmth. He liked Liam. He was glad the guy was having a good night.
"There he is," Michael pointed. "Hollywood. Looking sharp."
"Yeah," Ran nodded. "He looks good."
"He's with his girl," Michael noted, craning his neck. "See? Next to him. The Goth chick."
Ran’s heart stopped for a second. His girl. The Finance Manager. The one Liam was so crazy about.
Ran squinted, trying to see through the crowd.
He saw Liam turn and wrap his arm around a woman. She was dressed in a massive, dark gown with a corset. Her back was to Ran. She had a mass of dark, wavy hair—a wig, maybe, or just styled wildly.
She was laughing, leaning into Liam.
"Can't see her face," Ran muttered, stepping slightly closer, drawn by a curiosity he couldn't explain.
Just as the woman began to turn, a group of people dressed as the Ghostbusters walked by, crossing Ran’s line of sight with their proton packs and laughter.
By the time they cleared, Liam and the woman had moved. They were walking away, toward the boathouse, their backs to the garden.
Ran stared at their retreating figures. There was something about the way she walked—a long, confident stride—that triggered a ghost of a memory in his brain. But the costume, the hair, the setting... it didn't fit.
"Let's go," Ran said abruptly, turning away.
"You don't want to say hi?" Michael asked.
"No," Ran said, his voice rough. "He’s on a date. He’s happy. Let’s not ruin the vibe with grease and work clothes."
"Suit yourself," Michael shrugged. "I'll find James, get the signature, and we roll."
Ran walked back to the van. He sat in the passenger seat, staring at his hands. The tiger and the eagle stared back.
He felt a strange, hollow ache in his chest. Seeing Liam happy made him realize just how empty his own life was. Liam had the car, the career, the girl. Ran had a toolbox and a room at the back of the garage.
It’s what you deserve, the voice in his head whispered. You threw away the Queen. You don't get to sit at the King’s table.
Michael jumped into the driver's seat a few minutes later, waving a check.
"Got paid!" Michael cheered. "And James gave me a handful of candy. Want Snickers?"
"Drive," Ran said, closing his eyes.
The work van pulled out of the estate, passing the black Ford Expedition one last time. Ran didn't look.
Down by the boathouse, unaware of the ghost that had just passed them, Liam and Emi were playing a game of Ghost Bowling.
"Strike!" Liam cheered as Emi rolled the pumpkin-painted ball and knocked down all the white ghost pins.
Emi laughed, throwing her arms up in victory. "I told you! I have a deadly aim."
"Remind me never to challenge you to a duel," Liam said, pulling her close.
He kissed her, tasting the apple sweetness on her lips. The wind howled around the boathouse, the water lapped against the pilings, and the party raged above them.
"This was perfect," Emi said, resting her forehead against his chest. "The costumes, the games... everything."
"It's not over yet," Liam promised. "We still have the drive home. And I have a very specific playlist for the Expedition."
"Evanescence?" Emi guessed.
"On repeat," Liam winked.
They walked back up to the house, hand in hand, the Gothic couple conquering the night.
As they drove back to the city later, the Ford Expedition cutting through the dark, Emi watched the lights of the Long Island Expressway blur past. She felt safe. She felt loved.
And somewhere ahead of them, in a battered work van smelling of old oil, Ran Coetzee watched the same lights, driving back to his closet in Koreatown, unaware that he had just been ten yards away from the love of his life.
The city slept, holding its secrets tight. The threads of fate were tangling, pulling tighter, but tonight, the knot held. Tonight, the masks stayed on.