I say to Fin, “Hey, did you get that nasty rash cleared up? Max said you were on some pretty heavy antibiotics.”
Fin nods, playing along. “Oh, girl, it was so bad. My gynie said she’d never seen such oozing sores. Unfortunately, by the time I got my meds, Max had it, too.”
Watching the retreating back of our waiter as he hurries toward the bar, Max says dejectedly, “You guys suck.”
“It’s his own fault for assuming lesbians just need a good rogering to go straight.”
“I’m not gay,” says Max, “and I could really use a good rogering.”
“Well, sorry for the cock block,” says Fin, obviously not sorry at all. “But it’s common knowledge that guys with man buns are bad lovers. They’re too focused on their hair to focus on their partner. You deserve better than that.”
“Thank you. I think.”
We’re all reaching for our drinks when the waiter returns. Before I can tell him that we’ll pay for that last round, he says, “Which one of you is Juliet Jameson?”
My stomach tightens. The three of us look at each other for a moment, until I say warily, “That’s me. Why?”
He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “You’ve got a phone call.”
No one knows I’m here except Fin and Max. The tightness in my stomach turns to a knot.
“From who?’
The waiter shrugs. “Some Irish guy who says you owe him ninety thousand dollars.”
6
Jules
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Max says, “Okay, that’s freaky as hell. He’s calling you after I just said you should call him? What are the odds of that?”
Fin glances around worriedly. “What’s really freaky is how he knew we were here. Do you think he followed you after he kicked you out of the taxi?”
“He must’ve. I guess he likes playing games.”
Like a cat with a mouse right before it delivers the killing bite that severs the spinal cord.
I grit my teeth, square my shoulders, and look around, expecting to see a bunch of big dudes wearing evil expressions and dark suits with suspicious bulges underneath. But I see no hitmen, only regular people talking and drinking, mingling near the bar.
I stand, my heart banging around inside my chest. “If I’m not back in five minutes, you guys know what to do.”
Max nods. “Blow the place.”
“What? No! Go to your safe spots and text the signal when you’re all clear!”
Fin is frowning. “I thought ‘if I’m not back in five minutes’ was code for ‘I’m going home with the hot piece of ass I just met, don’t bother waiting up for me.’”
“Jesus,” I say, glaring at them in disappointment. “We’re the worst criminals who ever lived.”
Fin replies, “At least Max and I know better than to insult the grand poohbah of the underworld, babe. Now go save our asses. We’ll be right here getting drunk in case you fail.”
Shaking my head, I leave them and head in the direction of the man bun, who’s waiting for me at the end of the bar. He motions to a telephone booth near the back exit. It’s one of those old-fashioned red ones from London that tourists love to take their pictures near.
Adrenaline courses through me like electricity. I enter the booth, pull the door shut, and take a deep breath. Then I lift the receiver off the top of the phone box and bring it to my ear.
The silence on the other end of the line crackles. Even through a phone wire, his presence is as palpable as a hand sliding over my skin.
Then: “I wasn’t planning on that.”
The voice is low, rough, and distinctive. Now that I’ve heard it, I’d recognize that rich Irish brogue anywhere.
I say, “On not killing me when you had the chance?”
“On losing my temper. I owe you an apology.”
We breathe at each other until I recover my senses. “Are you joking?”
“No.”
“Is this…some kind of game?”
“No.”
I stare so hard at the buttons on the phone they start to blur. “Okay, I’m just gonna go ahead and admit I have no idea what’s happening right now.”
“What’s happening is that I’m apologizing for throwing you out onto the street.”
“After I stole ninety thousand dollars’ worth of diapers from you?”
“Aye.” A hint of warmth creeps into his solemn voice. “Though I’m told that technically they were stolen from a warehouse, not from me.”
I long for a chair to collapse into, but sagging against the glass door of the narrow booth will have to do. Gripping the receiver in both hands, I demand loudly, “Are you going to kill us or what?”
He sighs. “Not this again.”
“Is that a no?”
He says firmly, “Aye, lass, it’s a no.”
I ignore how I like being called “lass,” and forge ahead. “Why? Because we’re girls? If we were men, we’d already be dead, right?”
When he hesitates, I blurt, “Oh, god, you changed your mind.”
“No. I’m just disappointed that my reputation includes harming women. I’ve never lifted a hand to a woman in my—”
He stops abruptly and curses under his breath.
When he doesn’t continue, I say, “Um. You were saying?”
He exhales heavily. “I was about to tell you a lie. I did hit a woman once. I beat her, actually.”
If my jaw drops open any lower, it will be resting on the tops of my shoes.
“It’s one of my greatest regrets. I was under the impression she was trafficking girls—selling children—never mind. It’s a long story. My point is that I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot, so I’m being honest.”
When I’m silent too long, cross-eyed with shock and confusion, he says, “I killed the man who gave me that incorrect information. That Eva was a trafficker.”
Swallowing around my dead lump of a tongue, I say, “Oh. Okay, then.”
“I know it doesn’t excuse what I did. I’m not saying it does. I’m just giving the reason.”
“Uh…”
“She’s married now. Has twins. I watch them when her husband goes out of town for work. We’ve become good friends.”
“So it all worked out in the end.”
There. I managed to sound like a rational human being and not the mashed-potatoes-for-brains zombie I really am.
His tone turning firm, he commands, “Tell me why you donated what you stole from me to a charity. Why take the risk for no financial gain? What was in it for you?”
This guy is giving me whiplash. “What difference does it make?”
“Motivation speaks to character. Tell me.”
God, he’s bossy. I’m irritated until I think of Fin and Max, and what thin ice we’re all skating on right now, and decide to relent. “All right. If you must know, to make amends.”
A long, blistering silence follows. Then he says slowly, “Amends to whom?”
“Well…the world, I guess. To everyone.”