With those words, Darrell raised his hand to flag down one of the cater waiters.
Victor wanted to argue, but an ugly feeling came over him. Darrell was a user. A master manipulator and liar. His so-called Lifetime Achievement record bore proof of that.
But Victor didn't think he was lying about this.
And suddenly, everything became clear. Dawn had been telling the truth when she claimed not to know anything about her father's plans. She hadn't been playing him for a fool again. She had meant what she said. Including the part where she claimed to have truly loved him back in Japan.
His anger…his revenge….she hadn’t deserved it. From the start. And certainly not for ten years.
He looked at the app again. She was still in the same place. But this time, that fact brought him no solace.
She was still in the same place…the location coordinates read exactly the same. As did the number of feet. That meant she hadn't moved even a tiny measure of distance in the entire time her father had been talking.
Victor abruptly stood and headed for the event space's doors.
"Hey, where you going, man? I thought we were going to have that drink!" Darrell called after him with a laugh.
The room blurred as Victor rushed to the women's restroom near the museum’s front doors.
As he did so, he remembered her sheepishly telling him how she had barged into the boys' locker room back in Japan.
"I had to go in there," she'd signed in her terrible mix of CSL and ASL. "I had to make sure my brother was all right."
There was no similar hesitation on Victor's part before he burst into the ladies' restroom.
He ignored the sounds of women crying out that he wasn't supposed to be in here as he followed the dot on his phone to the last stall and pushed open the door.
It was empty.
But the dot on his app clearly stated she was there.
Another terrible feeling came over him, and he looked toward the metal bin where women were expected to throw their period paraphernalia. He opened it up. It must have been cleaned out right before the event because there were no pads or tampons.
Only Dawn's iPhone X.
"Sir, you're not supposed to be in here!" voices called out behind him before he could fully process what had happened. "We're going to have to ask you to leave."
Victor's jaw tightened, but he let the security guards escort him out, not just from the restroom but the entire party.
Dawn's father was standing near the entrance as the guards directed him to leave. Of course.
"See you later, Vic," he called out with a mocking wave before making his way back into the party with a man Victor recognized as a Texas senator.
So no, this wasn't the Providence Town Hall all over again. This time Dawn had really left. Disappeared, without a trace.
Victor waited for her at the Providence house, but she never returned home. Nor did she come back to RhIDS to finish the rest of her semester. He had his men look everywhere for her, but, they couldn't find her.
Victor was losing his mind. Her father's words kept echoing through his head. "You had her again, and you lost her without me having to do anything."
Where was she? Was it somewhere safe? Kuang still hadn't made his move, but he would someday soon, and it killed Victor to know she was somewhere unprotected. Hiding from him.
On day four of the search, Phantom finally called him on FaceTime with a break in the case.
"I got a lead on where she is," he told Victor without saying hello.
"Where?" Victor demanded. Wherever it was, he had to go to her now. Do whatever it took to make this right.
"I'll tell you, but I'm warning you right now…" Phantom shook his head ruefully on the other side of the FaceTime call. "You're not going to like it."
35
DAWN
I'd been wiling away my life in the past for so long, but now….
Now, I'm living in the present.
And my new present includes a critical visit to the compound of Luca Ferraro, the Ferraro don. But the Ferraros are a lot different than how I remember before Dad moved us all to Japan when I was fourteen.
Back then, they'd been the Italians who demanded an envelope of cash every month from my Korean grandparents. I think maybe they had a nice house in Elizabeth or some middle-class burb like that.
But as this guy named Matti drives Byron and me up the winding driveway of Luca Ferraro's place in Alpine, New Jersey, I can see they've seriously stepped up their game. My hands itch for my sketch pad as I gape at their large multi-building stone and dark wood estate.
And that instinct to capture everything I’m seeing on paper only becomes worse when we go inside. A guard in a black suit escorts us through a two-story A-frame foyer into an open-plan great room, kitchen, and dining area space.
The entire downstairs is sparsely furnished, with only a wrap-around couch in the great room and a round table with chairs in the dining area. But my animator's eye is totally impressed with the dynamic walls.
Done up in dark grey textured tiles, they feature everything from bookshelves to several tactile wall art pieces, which keeps the living room from looking like a minimalist nightmare.
The floors are also dynamic. No carpets anywhere, but there are a couple of paths made out of pearly raised dots. They blend into the interior way more subtly than the neon yellow tactile flooring at the Rhode Island Design School.
Thanks to missing my MFA presentation, I'm no longer a grad student at RhIDS. And I only know enough about interior design to do rough background sketches for my dreamy animation work before handing that part of the project over to a specialist. But I've got enough real-world knowledge to guess someone commissioned a team of specialized designers to put together this living room. The space radiates with both power and strong intent.
I get the same sense that I got when I first entered Victor's apartment in Japan—that it's a reflection of the people who live here.
I glance over at my brother as the guard leads us into the living room. I still don't love that he's apparently on the Ferraro Family payroll, his dirty cop paycheck as steady as the one he gets from his department. It feels like he's walking in Dad's footsteps, though I'm still not clear on whether or not he's doing some kind of undercover work.
It feels like Byron’s playing a dangerous game. But maybe he was right about me coming here for help with my Victor problem. These are the only people I've ever met who floss as hard as he does.
About a minute after we sit down, a cute kid with long curly hair and light brown skin shows up. "My mom is getting ready. She said to tell you she'll be right out."
Then she drops her voice to say, "Today is the anniversary of the day my parents got married—the second time, not the first. Don't forget to tell her happy anniversary!"
Okay, that sounds like an interesting story.
"We for sure won't," my brother assures her. He sounds totally pleasant as if we've just stopped in for a Sunday visit. He really does take after our dad.
I want to smile at the little girl, too, but it curdles on my mouth.
If I'm reading the skin tone right, she's multiracial. Like Byron and me. Like the baby I'm carrying right now. She's almost the living embodiment of why I'm here. Unlike my brother, I can’t smile like there's absolutely nothing wrong.