Charlie’s name is on the screen. He nods once like I should answer.
“Hello? Charlie?”
“Grace.” She’s whispering but her relief is obvious. “God, I was so worried when I heard the gunshots.”
“Is Rella okay?”
“She’s fine. There was a lot of yelling and Vince is really, really mad, but she’s okay.”
“Did he hurt her?” Worry rips through my spine.
“No, no, she’s locked in her room right now, but she’s okay. I’m down by the pool with Emilio, and Vince is out looking for you.” She takes a breath and lets it out. “Don’t tell me where you are. But you’re safe?”
“I’m safe. Charlie, listen. Let’s meet somewhere safe. We can help you.” I glance at Calvino and his face is clouded and uncertain, but I push along anyway. “Vince is lying about something. He did something with my cousin, Charlie, he knew her and gave her a job. Please, come meet me and let us help you.”
Her voice is strangled, like she’s fighting tears. “What did he say to you about Riley?”
“That he knew her and gave her a job. That Louie didn’t kill her, but he knows who did.”
She lets out a long groaning sigh. “Fuck, Grace. I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve said something sooner, I just—I was too scared.”
“Said something about what? Charlie, what do you know?” Uncertainty makes my feet go numb like the blood’s pooling into my toes.
“I’ll come meet you. I have a lot to tell you and a lot of atoning to do, but I’m afraid no amount of truth and tears will wash away my sins. Just tell me where to meet you.”
I look back at Calvino and quickly tell him the situation. He sighs, rubs his face, and gives me the address of one of his coffee shops. Charlie seems to know the place.
“Tomorrow,” she says, hurrying now. “Tomorrow at three. I’ll be there, okay?”
“Charlie, tell me what you know.”
“I’m sorry, Grace. Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Don’t call or text, it’s too dangerous.”
With that, she hangs up.
I stare at the phone and let it drop onto the bed.
Calvino hesitantly touches me and I instantly melt into his embrace. He hugs me tight and we say nothing for a long while before he pushes my hair aside and kisses my shoulder.
“I don’t know what they did, Grace, but we’ll figure it out. I promise we will.”
I nod once and fight the tears. “I need to shower,” I manage to say. I want to wash that basement off me.
He laughs softly. “I’ll join you. Come on.”
I let him lead me into the bathroom, both of us still naked, and he turns on the water. I look at him in the mirror and marvel at his body and I wonder, I really wonder, if maybe we should skip that meeting with Charlie, if maybe we should run away from this place and disappear somewhere safe and live together, just the two of us.
We could be happy if we really wanted to be, and all I have to do is ask.
But a thousand reasons make me keep my mouth shut, and I step into the shower with him when it’s steaming hot, and the burning water washes away my fear.
Chapter 28
Grace
The coffee shop is small and cute with lots of wood, house plants, thrift shop mugs and cups and plates, and the constant steam and hiss of an espresso machine. The rich, bitter smell of roasting beans wafts through the otherwise empty room, and if the employees recognize Calvino as the man that owns the place, they say nothing about it.
He seems anxious as he sits with his coffee. He keeps glancing from me to his watch, to his phone, and back again like something’s going to change. He rests his hand on my thigh, but that doesn’t stop my knee from bouncing as I watch the windows, waiting for Charlie to appear, but three comes and goes with nothing.
“Are you sure she got the right place?” he asks quietly and I know he’s wondering how long we should wait before we run. This meeting is dangerous as hell and it took about an hour of begging to convince him to go through with it.
“I’m positive. She definitely knew the place.”
“Diego’s outside making sure nobody sneaks up, but I don’t like that she’s not yet here.”
“Give her some time.”
He squeezes my leg and grunts in response.
I sip my iced coffee and wish I had something to do with all this excess energy, and after another few minutes of painful waiting, the front door opens and there’s Charlie, looking haggard and tired but mostly herself.
I hop up and hurry over. I give her a big hug and she hugs me back and looks at me with a fake smile, and I note the bags under her eyes and her frizzy hair. “How are you?” she asks, and I wonder I should be the one asking that instead.