Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(6)
“Breakfast?” Juliette asked, emerging from the bedroom while pinning her hair back. She had put on her own clothes: a qipao, light green with a flower stitched onto the shoulder.
Roma was already grabbing the coins on the living room desk, half his jacket dangling off his shoulder. “I’ll race you.”
“Stop it,” Juliette threatened immediately. “Don’t think I won’t tackle you to the ground!”
As much as he would have loved a full-body tackle—because Juliette refused to admit that he could and would easily snatch her out of the air—he did slow by the door, sticking his arm into his sleeve properly and taking her hand when she walked out with him.
“Hey,” she said. Her tone had changed, playful Juliette swapping out for serious Juliette. “I forgot to ask…. That picture yesterday looked familiar to you too, didn’t it?”
He knew immediately what she meant. It would have been very difficult to miss the resemblance.
“It did,” he answered softly.
Alisa was going to be turning eighteen this December. While he kept himself very informed on her life, he hadn’t seen her properly in years, didn’t know how his sister was faring past the news that Celia brought in. He and Juliette couldn’t set foot back in Shanghai; it was far too easy to get caught if they showed their faces. Though he trusted Celia to watch after Alisa, perhaps trusted her even more than he was capable of trusting himself, he missed that mischief-maker crawling in and out of the cupboards while he was trying to have private conversations, missed her so much that the feeling latched onto him like a tumor. He and Juliette had survived in the literal sense, had built something precious in the wake of burning a hate-filled cycle into ash, but the people in Shanghai weren’t wrong when they whispered about Roma Montagov and Juliette Cai being dead—they could never go back, and that had killed a huge part of what made them them.
Juliette squeezed his hand. They proceeded into the main part of town, little pebbles scattering underfoot on the roughly paved ground.
“We’ll be able to see her soon,” she promised. “Celia thinks the government isn’t paying attention to former White Flowers anymore. It’s getting too chaotic internally. The danger will lessen. It has to.”
“Logically, I know you’re right.” Roma exhaled, tilting his head up to watch a bird take flight from one of the curved roof tiles. “Yet I hate the thought of endangering her. She’s happy working for the Communists. I don’t want to make her choose us or them.”
It would have been easier if Alisa were less stubborn, if she had just gone with Marshall and Benedikt to Moscow, because Roma had contacted his two best friends within days of them settling there, out of the Nationalists’ reach, and Benedikt had yelled at him so thoroughly for faking his death—REALLY, ROMA?! THIS IS THE LAST AND FINAL TIME ANYONE DOES THIS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?! GET YOUR WIFE ON THE LINE, I HAVE SOME WORDS FOR HER, TOO—that he thought the international telephone audio might short out.
Juliette went to pay for vegetable buns. Roma waited while she bantered with the old man behind the shop counter, staring off into the distance. When Juliette brushed up against him again, handing over a small bag, he asked, “What if, by the time we contact her, she hates me for having kept away?”
“My love,” Juliette chided immediately. “This is Alisa we are talking about.” She bit into her bun. “She will only be happy to see you again. She’s not as dramatic as I am.”
At that, Roma’s mouth twitched, recalling each time in the past he had kept away from Juliette and withheld information. He’d never do it now—not when their new lives depended on communicating as one functional unit—but at the time, he had believed he was making the best choice. He had only wanted to keep her safe.
“Besides,” Juliette continued, “you pay her bills. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has long figured it out.”
That was also true. Roma was hardly subtle. He took a bite of the bun. Maybe the trick was to keep dropping larger and larger hints until Alisa figured out the truth, but not making contact so she didn’t find them until it was safe to do so. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past Alisa to somehow track them down anyway.
“Mr. Mai! Phone call!”
Roma whirled around, searching for whoever was shouting at him. On the other side of the main canal, one of the ladies who ran a tailoring business waved him over, gesturing to the communal phone line that was set up right outside her shop.
“Are we expecting anyone?” Juliette asked, sounding perplexed.
“Not until Ah Cao in the afternoon.”
They made their way over to the telephone, crossing the stone bridge in a hurry. Juliette sidled right up to the wall as Roma picked up the receiver that had been left beside the hook for him, pressing it to his ear.
“Wéi?”
He heard a sharp, struggling intake of breath. Then: “It’s… it’s…”
Confused, Roma cast a look to Juliette, trying to signal that he couldn’t hear anything. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”
“It’s Yulun,” the voice finally managed in a quick breath. Over the line, Yulun continued heaving and sniffling, as if he were crying.
Roma switched from confused to concerned. “Is everything all right? Are you safe?”