‘Cool,’ she says.
‘So what about you then? Everything OK with you?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. I think I might get promoted soon.’
I beam at her. ‘Really? That’s fantastic.’
‘Yeah, Mr. Stevens said I was doing a fine job and that he might have some really good news for me next month.
‘That’s awesome, honey. You always give your best and you sooooo deserve it.’
Daisy looks pleased.
‘Daisy?’
‘What?’
‘Um … you know when you were kidnapped?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You don’t have any lasting ill effects from it do you?’
Her forehead creases. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean like flashbacks or bad dreams … or any phobias?’
‘Nah,’ she says immediately and I feel a great sense of relief. ‘Now it feels more like a dream. It’s so surreal. But I’m more careful now though. I wouldn’t trust strangers as easily as before.’
‘Do you hate the people who kidnapped you?’
‘No, but I feel guilty.’
‘Guilty? Why?’
‘Sometimes I think about those other girls. What has happened to them? Where are they now? Are they still even alive?’
It makes me feel really bad that I can’t tell her there were no other girls. It was just a tape recorder. ‘Girls are abducted every day, Daisy. It just never directly touches us so we never think about it, but even if we did what can we do about it? In that respect we are as helpless as they are.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ she says slowly.
‘Just don’t think about them, OK. You can’t help them and you’ll just end up being less grateful for all the blessings you have.
‘Dahlia, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is this man you’re going out with the one that helped to find me?’
My heart feels heavy. I’ve never deliberately kept a secret from my sister, but how can I ever tell her this? ‘Yes,’ I say. In a way it is not a lie. He had a hand in her release.
‘Maybe one day I can thank him myself,’ she says.
‘OK,’ I say with a smile.
‘Yeah, I’d like to. I feel really grateful to him. Give me your address and I’ll send him a card.’
I text the address to her and we end the conversation. For a long time I stare at the Chewbacca flash drive feeling guilty and confused. It is such a big secret to keep forever, but maybe I won’t have to. Maybe one day when I have learned how to fly, when I have pulled Zane out of this life, I will sit Daisy down and tell her everything.
I wrap the flash drives and go downstairs to see how Olga is coming along with her preparations for the party.
Thirteen
Dahlia Fury
http://mp32016.xyz/play/happy-birthday-russian-song
As it turns out, Zane is busy in the early evening and asks me to meet him at the restaurant at eight o’clock. This works out brilliantly as it means I can help prepare the living room and the bedroom. Olga and I fill the living room with balloons and streamers, hang up Happy Birthday banners, then I go upstairs to the bedroom and fill it with the hundred candles. I make a path that leads to the bed. Olga says she will get Noah to call her when we are ten minutes away from the house.
Then I have a long soak in the bath and think about the night ahead. My crafty plan is to don a very simple, sleeveless black dress with a high neck. Boring as hell and suitable for funerals, but it is the perfect cover story for what I plan to wear underneath. A halter neck chemise dress with horizontal slashes from the neckline to hem, and a lace-up back that basically leaves my bare bottom peeking out of the crisscross of the laces. With it I will team black thigh highs and scarily high heels. Naturally, I won’t wear any panties. Evil grin. He won’t know what hit him.
Nun outside and slut inside, I go with Noah to meet Zane at Parma. We proceed to have a lovely dinner, but it kind of shocks me how utterly secretive he is. At no time during dinner does he ever mention that it is his birthday. His demeanor is so normal that I begin to doubt that it’s his birthday. Who completely ignores their birthday? What if Olga got it wrong? But it is too late to change my plans and so what if it is not his birthday? A party is a party, so I smile, laugh, eat, drink and tremble inside with suppressed excitement at the thought of what I have planned for him.
It’s nearly ten thirty by the time we leave the restaurant, and I have to marvel at how fantastic these Russian men are at keeping secrets. There is nothing in Noah’s face to indicate he’s in on the plan. No secret wink, knowing smile, or tap on the nose. God, with all these stoic people around I pray my party doesn’t fall flat on its little face. Where is Stella when I need her?