Montaine (18 page)

***

“Would you like to take a
walk with me?” Miklos’s voice came from behind my right shoulder.

I had been sitting at my
desk, staring into space for most of the morning, unable to concentrate on anything
but my need to explain myself to Trent. My numerous texts and phone calls to
him had gone unanswered. I wanted to tell him that I was only trying to protect
him by keeping Hades’ identity a secret. In retrospect, harboring that secret
grew to feel more like a betrayal than an act of love. I saw the situation from
Trent’s perspective and knew that I had been wrong. Now I may have lost him
forever. I had no one but myself to blame.

I brushed wet smudges of
mascara from under my eyes and tried to muster a smile for Miklos. The result
probably looked as feeble and half-hearted as I felt.

“Sure. I would enjoy
that.”

A few minutes later, we
strolled through the early afternoon foot traffic of Fifth Avenue.

“There is a coffee shop
where we can chat.” He ducked down a side street. I followed him toward a red
awning that sheltered a few scattered bistro tables and wicker chairs.

“I wanted to thank you,”
I said as we were seated and a waitress with a glittering row of lip piercings
wrote our order for two black coffees on a small notepad. “I read what you told
the
Times
about me. You said that I deserved to win the cover contest. I
really appreciate that. It was the one good thing that I read amidst a lot of
really terrible things.”

He patted my hand with
fatherly affection. “You’re welcome. But I believe that was an unnamed source.
I cannot claim credit.” He winked and flashed a warm grin.

“So, what did you want to
chat about?” The waitress delicately set two white saucers and mugs of dark
steaming coffee on the table. I stirred a lump of sugar into my coffee, waiting
for the heat to dissipate before I took a sip.

“I know why you didn’t
tell Trent about that man, Peter Haverford. He knows too, even if he is very
angry right now.”

I nodded and lifted my
mug, blowing softly over the top. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“I do.” He lifted his mug
to his lips, sipped lightly, and set it down on the saucer with a tiny porcelain
clink. “We all do strange things when we are in love. We make mistakes,
sometimes terrible mistakes that cannot be undone. This is not one of those
mistakes. Trent will forgive you because he knows that you love him and that you
acted for his best interest. Also, because he loves you too.”

Hearing these words nearly
sent tears to my eyes all over again. I had done enough crying in the past few
days to last me a lifetime. I sipped my coffee to steady my nerves and my
emotions.

“You sound like you are
speaking from experience,” I ventured. “Did you make mistakes in the name of
love?”

He gazed thoughtfully
into his mug for several seconds and nodded slowly. “That’s a big question. Do
you have time for an old man’s sad story?”

“I do.” I smiled and
patted his hand.

“A very long time ago,
there was a girl whom I loved very much. Her name was Anya. We lived in a dangerous
place with many dangerous people who wanted to do us harm. We were members of
the anti-communist underground in Budapest. In those days, many idealistic
young people like ourselves naively thought that we could throw off the yoke of
the Soviet state and change the world. I ran a secret newspaper. We printed
stories from the West and tried to expose government corruption and violence.
The authorities were not pleased. They sent informants to infiltrate our ranks.
We always outsmarted them. We were a close group and kept our activities hidden
from all but our most trusted friends. At least, that was true for a while.”

He paused and sipped his
coffee. He closed his eyes as if retrieving a recollection long buried.

“Eventually, the security
police caught up with us. I allowed my childhood friend, Emil, into our group
over Anya’s objection. She did not trust him. I thought that I knew better. I
did not know that the police had turned Emil over to their cause. He joined our
group and played along, all the while passing our secrets to the government.
The net tightened. I received a warning that the authorities had learned of our
activities and were preparing to arrest us, all of us. The penalty would be
death. Anya and I formed a plan to escape. A network of underground
sympathizers would smuggle us into West Germany. We were to travel separately
and meet just over the border to avoid attracting attention. I kissed her
goodbye under a street light on a Budapest corner. There was a light mist of rain.
Droplets had settled onto her coat and her hair. I can still see her there. I
loved her so much.”

He closed his eyes again.
A minute passed in silence. When he opened his eyes, the rims were pink and
watery. He cleared his throat.

“What happened to her?” I
asked weakly.

“I betrayed her. Not
intentionally, of course. I thought that I was saving her. Emil promised me
that he would see her to safety if I were somehow caught. He promised to watch
over her in my absence. So I told him where he would be able to find her. When
I arrived at our agreed meeting place, Anya was not there. I was frantic. Then
I learned what had happened. Emil had sent the police to her exact location.
She was arrested and interrogated. She refused to name any other members of our
group or to reveal my location. She was executed six months later and buried in
an unmarked grave.”

“I’m so sorry, Miklos.”

“So am I, my dear. So am
I. I am sorry every day of my life. I have been back to that corner in Budapest
where last I saw her. I have stood under that same street light, and I swear
that I have felt her presence. I like to believe that she forgave me, that she
knew I acted only out of love. My mistake cannot be undone. Yours still can.”

“What should I do?”

“You must stop Trent from
this quest for vengeance. It will achieve nothing, but it may destroy him. You
must show him that love is stronger than revenge.”

The din of the crowded bar,
a conglomeration of blowhard bankers and lawyers, cackling young women, and
posturing tourists, drowned out my dark thoughts more effectively than the
watery martini that I’d downed in two hearty swigs. The brick walls were draped
in imitation Irish kitsch, and the hammered tin ceiling looked like a layer of
cheap aluminum foil. I planted the glass on the thickly varnished wooden bar
top and watched through the shifting crowd for any sign of Marcie or Tony.

It was Wednesday night,
and I had agreed to meet them for a drink after work, an attempt at emotional
rescue on their part. Trent had so far greeted all of my attempts at
communication with a deafening silence. I was slowly unraveling with each
passing hour, doing my best to appear calm while my heart splintered into sharp
fragments. My mind spun in an endlessly repeating reel of self-reproach and
painful what-ifs.

“Hey!” A beefy hand
clamped onto my bare forearm. I jumped with the sudden contact. “Hey, you’re
the chick from the video!” A sweaty, fat-cheeked man was shouting into my face.
His shirt collar cut into the flesh of his bulbous neck. He stood so close that
flecks of his spittle landed on my chin. He had one sausage-fingered hand
wrapped around my wrist. With the other, he waved at a group of similarly
unattractive young men in the standard corporate office uniform of blue-striped
shirts and dull navy ties.

“Guys, come here!” he
yelled. “It’s the intern!” Their beady eyes fixed on me with predatory
interest. Several other bar patrons craned their necks to see the source of the
commotion.

I pried the man’s fingers
from my arm, where they had left a row of red welts, and slammed his hand onto
the bar top, sending my martini glass toppling sideways.

“Get the fuck off of me,”
I hissed.

“Don’t be such a bitch,”
he seethed. His pasty nose with its canvas of sprouting black hairs was only inches
from my face. His breath smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and recently digested
pizza. “I know who you are. I know everything about you.” He pinched my waist
and slid a palm around my lower back. “How about we make our own video?”

I tried to back away, but
he held me pinned. I pressed again his chest, my fingers sinking into his jiggling
flesh.

“I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” I gasped, craning my neck away from his stinking breath as his
buddies surrounded us.

“It
is
her!” one
of them said and lifted his phone for a picture.

“I believe the lady told
you to back the fuck off!” Marcie appeared like an elfin savior, popping up in
the middle of the throng and karate chopping the man’s arm where it met my
waist. He cried out in pain and massaged his meaty wrist with a petulant
expression. She climbed the rungs of a bench until she loomed over the circling
pack. “You all have exactly two seconds to remove yourselves from this bar or I
will call my boyfriend, a police officer, and have you arrested for assault and
battery. Am I making myself clear?”

“Come on, we were
just---”

“Am I making myself
fucking clear?” The men jumped at the ferocity in her tone, as did a number of
other interested onlookers.

“Bitches,” one of them
mumbled as they turned and headed in a sulking queue toward the door.

“I’m so sorry, Kat. I
should have gotten here sooner.” She enfolded me in a bear hug and planted a
glossy kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you for saving me
from those assholes. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown
up.” My hand still shook as I set the martini glass upright. “And thank heavens
for your boyfriend, the police officer.”

“Yeah, yeah. A little lie
never hurt anyone,” she winked. “They don’t need to know that my boyfriend is
really an adorable, peace-loving magazine writer.”

“Oh my, ‘boyfriend’ is a
big word. Are we there yet?” My pulse steadily slowed to a normal rate. The
rest of the bar’s customers seemed to have completely forgotten the hubbub of a
few minutes prior.

Marcie smiled
cryptically. “Come on, let’s go find a table before any more shitheads bother
you.” She lugged me across the bar by my wrist and hauled me down into the last
booth in the back, next to a jukebox and a group of frat boys absorbed in a
raucous game of pool. They were thankfully oblivious to our presence.

“Still no word from
Trent.” I set my elbows on the table and anxiously spun a cardboard coaster.
“Marcie, what if he never speaks to me again?”

“Then he’s not worth it,”
she said matter-of-factly. “But that isn’t going to happen, and you know it.
Trent is angry. I get it. But it won’t last. He loves you. Just be patient. He
will come around.”

“I don’t know if I can be
patient. What if he’s in danger? What if he’s already found Peter? What if Kill
has something else planned?”

Marcie placed her hand
over mine to stop my fidgeting fingers. “Deep breaths, Kat. I know it’s hard.
This week has been awful. You’re a good person. You don’t deserve any of this.
I’m here for you, no matter what happens. You’ll never ever get rid of me.”

I chuckled despite the
tears that threatened to flow.

“What’s this? I don’t see
any drinks. I thought we were planning to get shitfaced.” Tony edged into the
booth beside Marcie and wound an arm around her shoulder. “How are you, Kat?”
His tone expressed genuine concern. He leaned forward expectantly.

“I could use another
drink, I suppose.”

“Say no more. What are
you having?” He tapped a few drumbeats with his knuckles on the tabletop and rose
from the bench.

“Surprise me.”

He clapped a hand
reassuringly on my shoulder and strode toward the bar. Marcie watched him with
an affectionate smile.

I felt a buzzing in the
purse wedged against my hip. My heart leapt into my throat at the thought that
it might be Trent. I reached tentatively into the front pocket, withdrew the
phone, and peeked warily at the screen. The text was from Esmeralda.

Oscar is awake.

I gasped and slapped a
hand against my chest.

“What? What is it? Is it
Trent?”

“No,” I said with a sigh
of relief at the wonderful news. “It’s Oscar. He’s awake. I need to go to the
hospital.”

Tony returned with our
drinks just as I swung my legs over the side of the bench.

“What’s going on?” He
placed two martini glasses and a bottle of beer on the table.

“I’m sorry.” I pecked him
lightly on the cheek and straightened my skirt over my thighs. “Oscar woke up.
I have to go see them.”

“No worries, Kat. I’ll
finish your drink.” Marcie swallowed a martini in a single gulp. “I’ll see you
at home later?” Her expression carried a tinge of worry.

“Absolutely.” I bent over
and wrapped her in a quick hug. “By the way, Tony, your special lady here really
saved my ass a little while ago. I was a damsel in distress, and she was my knight
in shining armor. I’ll let her tell you all about it.”

“That doesn’t shock me at
all,” he said with an admiring glance at Marcie, who was already sipping from the
second martini glass.

I poked my way through
the bar and emerged onto the sidewalk with the crowd noise still ringing in my
ears. As I hurried toward the subway, I had to admit that Oscar’s miraculous
awakening was not the only thing drawing me to that hospital in Brooklyn.

I was sure that Trent had
received the same text from Esmeralda. And I was sure that he would be there
when I arrived.

***

I sprinted past a nurses’
station and down a hallway lined with empty gurneys. The door to Oscar’s room
stood open. Esmeralda leaned over the head of the bed. She turned at the sound
of my footsteps.

“Kat! I thought you would
have come in with Trent.”

“Is he here?” My voice
was high-pitched and eager. I felt instantly ashamed to be thinking of myself
and my own problems.

“He’s on his way.”

She turned back to the
bed. Oscar was awake and breathing on his own. His eyes were half-closed, but
he opened them wider at our approach. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged.
Esmeralda placed a hand gently on his shoulder and shook her head.

“What do the doctors
say?” I asked in a whisper.

Esmeralda tilted her chin
toward a corner of the room and pulled me after her with a hand on my elbow.

“It’s too soon to tell
much yet,” she said once we were out of Oscar’s earshot. “He’s awake, but
that’s only the first step.” She winced. “He can’t move his legs. It may be temporary.
We will know more within the next few days as he regains strength and the
doctors run more tests.”

The door swung open and
banged into one of the plastic chairs, toppling it with a clatter. Trent
appeared and walked with long strides to Oscar’s bedside. He gripped his
friend’s hand.

“Hey, buddy. Good to see
you.” He glanced around the room. Esmeralda stepped forward. Trent quickly
hugged her to his side with one strong arm. I remained in the shadows, holding
my breath.

Esmeralda turned and
reached out a hand toward me, beckoning me to join them. Only in that moment
did Trent register my presence. I hung back, my eyes locked on his. Neither of
us spoke. Esmeralda looked from one to the other, unaware of the reason for the
tension that flowed between us like a crackling current of electricity.

“Hi, Trent.” My voice
trembled, little more than an airy exhalation.

He looked right through
me, his eyes thoroughly cold, and turned back to the bed. I felt tears rising
and blinked them away.

“Umm, I’m going to get a
drink of water,” I said, still shaky. My legs wobbled like rubber as I stepped
through the open doorway and out into the hallway, unsure of my destination. I
simply couldn’t face the callous expression in Trent’s eyes. I rounded a
corner, heading in the direction of a row of vending machines when a strong
hand gripped my waist from behind.

“Come on. Let’s talk.”
Trent’s voice growled into my ear. He steered me to a door, hauled it open, and
pushed me inside. A string hit my nose. I tugged it to light a single unshaded
bulb that descended from the ceiling. The yellow glare fell in a harsh circle
around us. We stood in a tiny closet lined with shelves of buckets, rags, mops,
and spray bottles. When I looked up, Trent loomed over me. His blue eyes were no
longer blank and unfeeling. They flashed with an icy fury.

“Trent, let me explain.”
I placed a hand on his arm. He remained still as a statue, the only movement a
bulging flex of his bicep under my fingers. “I was only trying to help.”

“By betraying me? By
keeping secrets? By treating me like a fucking child that couldn’t know the
truth?” His words were delivered in a calm and steady tone that belied the
anger behind them and sent a spike of fear into my heart.

“I wanted to protect you,
Trent.”

“What makes you think I’m
in need of your protection?”

“I knew you wouldn’t let
it rest. I knew you would challenge Hades…Peter…if you knew. I talked to
Esmeralda about it and---”

“Ezzie knew too?” he
asked.

I nodded. “She didn’t
want to see any more bloodshed. Not after what happened to Oscar.”

Trent’s shoulders slumped
slightly. “Look, I get it, Kat.” He crossed his arms over his stomach and
leaned on a set of metal shelves. “But that doesn’t change anything. And you’re
too late anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

He gazed at me from under
lowered brows. A lick of black hair flopped over his forehead. His cheeks and
chin were shaded with a thick layer of stubble.

“I found Peter. I
challenged him to a fight this Friday night at the warehouse. This will be my
chance for revenge, for Rosie and for Oscar. This will wipe the slate clean.”

“Wipe the slate clean?” I
stepped toward him. “This won’t wipe anything clean. What if he kills you? What
if you kill him?”

“Whatever happens,
happens,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Trent, you don’t mean
that. Don’t do this. Please.” I thought back to my conversation with Miklos at
the café. “Love is stronger than revenge. Let this go. I love you, Trent.”

My heart pounded. My
pulse raced while I waited in stunned suspense for his reply.

“I know.” He nodded and
looked at the floor.

“You know? That’s it?”

“I can’t do this, Kat.
Not with you. I was right to walk away that first night. I should have ended it
there. This has caused us both too much pain already.”

“That’s bullshit, Trent,
and you know it.” His eyes met mine with a curious intensity. “You can’t spend
your life running away from your feelings. Running is not the answer.”

“I am not running away
from anything. I am making a choice.”

“No, you’re giving up
because you’re scared. You hide from emotions. You think that makes you brave
and strong. It doesn’t. It merely pushes away the people who care about you. It
robs your life of the joy that comes only once you accept the terror of
uncertainty and realize that total control is an illusion. If you love me, we
can make this work. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? Give up this
quest to avenge the past. Pay attention to the future that is right in front of
your face.”