My Darling Husband(82)
Nick grunts. “Maybe the others should go ahead and—”
“No. Not unless I give them the sign. Not until things go south.”
“Pretty sure things went south hours ago.”
I don’t respond, even though Nick is right. Again.
I white-knuckle the wheel and look past the Buick to a turnoff up ahead, marked with a stone pillar and a bright green street sign. Fifty yards. Only fifty yards of this deadlock to go.
I flick my lights and press forward until I’m flush to the Buick’s bumper, keeping one eye on the camera feed. Sebastian is getting worked up, his whole body becoming energized. His face gleams, and he starts moving about the room, bouncing between the three cameras, giving them full-on shots of his face.
He says my name, and my lungs go hard as concrete.
“He told me it was a no-brainer. He said his other shops were spitting out profits in the first year. He guaranteed we’d have our money back, that we’d double it in no time. He knew I was counting on my investment to pay for Gigi’s medical costs, and he swore he wouldn’t let this project fail. And then you know what happened? He let it fail. He walked away and left me holding the bill.”
I glance over at Nick. “I never said any of that. He knew about the risks. He’s lying.”
Nick grunts, a detached sound that says he couldn’t care less either way.
“Seriously, man. That’s not how it happened.”
I don’t know why I’m being so defensive, why I care that this man-bunned, leather-clad arsonist who’s been following my wife believes me, but there it is. I am ashamed of my behavior. I don’t want anybody to know what I did.
“What, a kidnapper lie?” Nick swings an ankle over a knee. “Shocking.”
When Sebastian floated the idea of us becoming partners, offering up the building he’d inherited from his grandmother in return for a stake in the restaurant, I warned him there were risks. But in the same breath, I also told him not to worry.
Oakhurst was to be my sixth shop in a city that couldn’t get enough of me. All we had to do was fix the place up, fire up the grill and open the doors, and people would come running. I didn’t use the words no-brainer, but I might as well have. I certainly gave him that impression.
And then Fred couldn’t fill the tables in the West Side shop—first on weekdays, then weekends. Staff was walking out, abandoning ship for restaurants that could keep them flush with tips. I had no other choice but to fire Fred and step in, but it took a few months to get back up to speed. No way I had the bandwidth for a sixth shop.
George’s parting word whispers in my ear: karma.
Of course I knew when Sebastian offered to front the renovation costs before either of us had signed on the dotted line, I should have told him to hold off. Every time he’d call with an excited update on the latest investment, new windows and a new roof and floors, a new layer of asphalt on the lot or the top-of-the-line appliances he paid for out of his own pocket, I knew I should have put on the brakes. I watched it all happen, and I never once told him to stop.
His face when I bailed. God, I will never forget it, or the words he said to me over and over. I need this, Cam. I need this or my daughter will die.
I told myself he was exaggerating, that universal health care would pay for whatever treatment his sick daughter needed. I figured another chef would be enticed by the promise of a Lasky-grade kitchen and snap up my sloppy seconds. I was wrong on both accounts, and the truth is, I didn’t much care. I was too damn busy trying to keep my own ass afloat.
But I said it. God help me, I told him his dying daughter wasn’t my problem. And now Jade knows, and Bea knows, and they probably blame me for all of it, and they’re right to.
“Cam.”
Jade’s voice is loud and urgent, bleating in my iPhone’s speaker. My gaze snaps to the screen.
Jade is standing now, staring into the camera—the speaker on the wall. Her head is tipped back, the couch spread like wings coming off her shoulders, Beatrix on the far end. Jade’s eyes are big and wide.
“Cam, don’t come here. As soon as you do—”
“Shut up.” Sebastian’s body steps into the shot, moving fast, a blurry black blotch on my iPhone screen. “Don’t listen to her, Cam.”
He shoves her out of the shot.
“Don’t come inside!” she shouts. “He’s going to kill us either way!”
I swipe to another screen, searching for the bird’s-eye feed.
Sebastian lunges, and my screen becomes a jumble of sound, of bodies. I stare at it, gripping it hard enough to snap the thing in two, trying to hold it together, trying to see, but my world has gone foggy with fury. Jade screams, then Beatrix. Nick dives for the wheel, jerking the truck’s tires back on the road, and orders me to let up on the gas.
I lift my foot and scream into the cab, “What is happening?”
I see Jade, sprawled across two empty chairs, her feet tangled with a squirming Beatrix’s. Jade scrambles to sit up, to protect our daughter, who is calm in a way that pierces my heart. With an unbothered expression, Beatrix leans over the armrest and reaches for her mother’s hand.
Sebastian stalks up to the speaker, talks right into it.
“Listen to me, Cam. If you ever want to see your family again, I’d advise you not to listen to your wife. Get over here, now. Bring me my money. You have three minutes.”