12 - Collections

She wanted a drink. She stopped herself from pouring it. She didn’t eat the cookie she wanted. Was it too much to treat herself? What if she got Owen’s body fat? What if she damaged Owen’s liver?

Elizabeth ground her teeth. Then she realized what she was doing and stopped.

“You OK?” Carlos stopped her by the rear exit of the restaurant.

“I just want to go home and get a shower,” she said, as she tied up her hair. Ponytails kept the strands out of her eyes but they did little to augment her tips. That was all she had anymore, right? Her thoughts, her heart, and her money? She wasn’t certain about the money.

“You and Brett are through?” he asked.

“You heard that?” she laughed pitiably. “Of course you did.”

“So I ask again: You OK?”

“Let me get that shower.” She shook her head.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’m ... I’m sharing a bed with Darlene tonight,” she estimated. Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you were those kinds of friends,” he frowned.

“I’m not a lesbian,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t saying that. I just thought you two were only ‘work friends’. Like you and Davy,” Carlos said.

“And we’re different?” Elizabeth said.

“Ouch,” Carlos shook his head. “Get home safe.”

“I will.” Elizabeth stormed out of the rear of the restaurant. Dammit! She stopped in the parking lot. She called a cab. It was probably safe to walk home, but it wasn’t her body to risk anymore.

Kirk’s hands shook. The paperwork. The photographs. The chain of custody. These were the coins. These were real. He hadn’t been part of something this historic, this lucrative in his entire life. He looked at his phone. They had left ninety minutes ago. His daughter was still flirting with the boy, eating down in the food court. Where was Giselle? She was supposed to contact Monsieur le Carre. Kirk looked at his phone one more time. Should he wait?

“Daddy!” Frieda squealed as she answered her phone on the fourth ring.

“Interrupting, am I?” he teased.

“No!” Frieda shrieked. “I mean, we’re almost heading b--heading up. Upstairs.”

“What? Are you OK?” he frowned. “Where’d you eat? Did you take him to that Thai place you like?”

“Eat?” Freida gasped. “Oh, um. No. We just, uh, grabbed McDonald’s.”

“And you lost track of time,” Kirk said. Frieda was always a bit crazy with boys. He tried to file today away with all of her other freakouts but it didn’t go easy. “Tell him to come up and get the good news.”

“Good news?” Frieda questioned.

“The coins are the ones we were looking for,” Kirk explained.

“Right! He knew that! I mean, I’ll tell him. Bye, Dad.”

She had said ‘Bye, Dad.’ before she had hung up in his ear this time. Things were getting better.

He thought of Maxim le Carre again. He thought better of it. He dialed Giselle.

“Salut, vous avez téléphoner Giselle auBert. Je suis la secrétaire du Maxim le Carre.”

“Giselle, hi. It’s Kirk.”

“He called you too!” He tilted his head at his daughter’s voice. It melted the worry and conspiracy that had built up thanks to his daughter’s spastic exuberance.

“Oh, you’re with Frieda and Owen.”

“Yes, I have been making myself available to him.”

“Excellent, because I believe he is about to make your employer a very happy man.”

“Oh, I know Monsieur le Carre will manage to find a few faults to quibble over.”

“Yes,” Kirk nodded. “Nothing is ever as easy as it could be.”

“I think Owen will disagree with that,” Giselle said. “We will be by in a moment. We just need to return from my hotel room.”

“Um...” He refused to ask why his daughter had travelled to a hotel with them. He took long deep breaths. This was a millions of dollars deal and it wasn’t as if Frieda’s crush would inhibit the transaction. Kirk rolled his shoulders back. He would talk to her, to know if he had to talk to him.

Zera sat in the Sexton Campus library going over her biochemistry work. Her mechanical pencils were chewed up. Her notes were bracketed with doodles. She normally drew faces or animals. Today it was mostly pornographical cartoons.

“Hey.” Wendy dropped into the chair across from Zera.

“Hey,” Zera muttered. She looked up. Rivalry still clung to her mind but the fight Owen had cultivated before he had bought her with Judas’s silver had receded.

Wendy was a good looking Chinese girl. She dressed nicely, primly, boringly. She was wearing a thin winter jacket over a silk top. She brushed her straight black hair behind her singly pierced ears. She wore little makeup. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“You look like shit,” Zera said.

“Oh...” Wendy blushed and dug a mirror out of her bag. She sighed.

Zera had turned back to her books and notes. She scratched the point of her pencil in the platinum half of her dyed hair. Wendy watched her hopefully. Zera was idly drawing a girl getting plowed doggystyle while she memorized amino acids.

“All my girlfriends were friends of my ... of my ex’s or went to different universities after high school,” Wendy spoke, after a couple of attempts to get up and leave.

“Uh huh,” Zera droned.

“I, uh, you’re the person I know best without calling my mom,” Wendy said. “Besides boys.”

“Uh huh,” Zera closed her eyes. Leucine, phenylalanine, aspartic acid, asparagine--

“Could we talk? I’ll buy you a coffee or a--”

“Goddammit!” Zera said. She looked up. Wendy was shocked and several others in the library were going back to ignoring them.

“I’ll go.” Wendy rubbed her eyes again.

“Sit,” Zera leaned back in her chair. “You dumped your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, we’ve been together since we were 18.” Wendy frowned. “He didn’t understand. I don’t understand. Maybe we shouldn’t go for coffee. He was still there when I left.”

“My boyfriend’s place is close,” Zera said. “Come with me.”

“I thought you were dating that, um, that big girl.”

“Traded them for dick,” Zera packed her books into her backpack. “Just like you traded your boyfriend for mine.”

“What?” Wendy shook her head. “What?”

“You’ll understand or Owen was wrong,” Zera shrugged. She slipped into her jacket and pulled her backpack onto her shoulders. “Now, let’s go.”

Tamara knew Jewel and her twin sluts were staying at the hotel across from Scotia Square. She hadn’t been close enough to follow them up from the lobby to mark their room. What was she to do now? She felt tight in the chest and pulled her hands into fists.

“Salut, vous avez téléphoner Giselle auBert. Je suis la secrétaire du Maxim le Carre.” Tamara turned her head to see Owen coming down the stairs with a cute brunette teen and a glamorous French lady.

“He called you too!” The teenager looked scandalized. She was the chick from the hospital. Tamara could only recall “Friends” written on Owen’s old cast. She shook her head and raced over.

“Owen!” Tamara said quietly as she raced into a hug. The French lady raised a finger to buy a moment and stepped away from them.

“Hi,” ‘Friends’ said to Tamara.

“I forgot your name,” Tamara declared.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Frieda. We met last night.”

“And you fucked a few minutes ago,” Tamara sniffed Owen. “You smell like her more than she does.”

“They got showers.” Owen gestured from Frieda to the French lady across the lobby. “Giselle, if you’re wondering.”

“Her name?” Tamara asked and Owen nodded. “Oh! I followed the--”

“I need you to take the rage down from 11, Tamara,” he said.

“They’re upstairs. I know which car is theirs but I don’t know which room is hers,” Tamara had quieted back to a conversational volume.

“And yeah, you definitely pegged her as your enemy.”

“Her betrayer?” Frieda asked.

“Yes,” Owen nodded.

“That’s a good word for it,” Tamara agreed.

“Owen, this one’s father has confirmed the authenticity of the coins,” Giselle sashayed over. “I should contact my employer.”