Stone Cold Fox (85)

A ringing in my ears. Coincidence. Had to be. Common name.

“Michael’s nice, isn’t it? Everybody likes Mike,” Gale continued.

Another name that everyone knows and suggests. Aboveboard. Gale’s smile loomed large, displaying all of her little teeth, jammed together in that foul mouth of hers.

“Or what about Seamus? That’s a fun one. One from the old country. Like Collin. And you can always trust Seamus, right?” Gale’s nostrils flared at me, her prey, finally recognizing the depth of danger I was really in.

Was I even breathing? I couldn’t tell anymore.

“You know what name I’ve always liked?” she asked me. Rhetorically.

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

“Dean!” she chortled, and clapped just the tips of her hands together, a prim and proper predator. “Dean is everyone’s friend. Lovable and loving. Pure of heart. I mean, who doesn’t love a Dean?”

I dropped my flute of sparkling cider and my whole body followed suit, knees buckling, vertigo settling in, falling in what felt like slow motion and wondering if anyone would catch me, anyone at all, until everything went dark.

Blackout.





CHAPTER


    19



THE PARTY WAS fucking over. I was whisked home in a heli, airlifted back to dry land and promptly visited by the Case family doctor on speed dial, who assured everyone that my dizzy spell was likely an isolated incident. He ordered fluids, rest and a decrease in stress. Easy for you to say, asshole. Did your sworn enemy inexplicably uncover the long-buried secrets of your dark and shady past?

Gale knew. She really knew about my past and I had no idea how she’d found out. How could she have outfoxed me? Money. That had to be the answer. It always was. She’d pay top dollar for surveillance and investigation. The Wallace-Leicesters were just as monied as the Cases; if anyone could do it, it would be people like them. They could do anything and get away with it, including ruining my entire life. I was so stupid to get involved in the first place—my eyes were bigger than my stomach, I had bitten off more than I could chew. But what could I possibly do next? I couldn’t let Gale lord this over me, deploying it at her convenience, with me rolling over and taking it whenever she decided to drop the bomb. I would lose absolutely everything. The baby would only keep me afloat for so long, right? If the Cases found out everything about me and where I came from, they’d effectively have me erased. Take the baby away. For God’s sake, they could have me assassinated and frame it as an accident. People like them did that all the time, didn’t they? Gale said she was waiting for when it would hurt me the most? Well, someone was banking on the love I would have for my child. I suppose I should have been glad somebody had faith in me in that regard, but instead there was only one question on my mind.

What would Mother do in this scenario?

I knew the answer, but could I do it?

I was teetering on the dangerous, the dark, the psychopathic—everything I’d been so desperate to avoid, but was I not in the most desperate situation of all time? I was reeling. I needed a grounding force. A soft place to land. Someone who actually put me in touch with my true inner self, no matter how depraved at times, to help me figure out the best way forward.

I wanted to talk to Syl. Sweet Syl, who would never actually hurt me, she could never, even though I had hurt her by denying the one thing she wanted, potentially beyond forgiveness. But I yearned for Syl. I missed her. Her girl talk. The shit talk. Gentle reassurances I was doing a great job. That I would do a great job when the baby came. I could hear it all in her voice, and I’d believe it if it came from her. At least, as much as I could believe it. I fantasized about calling her so we could reconcile. I’d tell her about the baby and that I was sorry, maybe I could even tell her a little more, connect about my past, our past if it was true, which I was starting to suspect it was.

The photos I found of Giles Wink online suggested that he was certainly Syl’s father. He was good-looking. She favored him, no question. Except his nose, with its slight bump, the attractive kind, and the upturned end. A bit small for a man. The perfect size for a woman.

I recognized it because it was my nose, too.

And Giles with Georgina? Another sucker for destiny.

I had to see Syl.

So, what would I have to say? News of the baby would be favorable. Who among us can resist a pregnant woman in peril? I could cry, turn on the waterworks a bit, but would she believe me? Syl was definitely the type of woman who would appreciate an apology, so I could ease my way into that while we were on the phone. Yes, all of these tactics could get Syl to hear me out and let me seek her advice. I was sure of it.

But I didn’t even have to use them.

Before I got two sentences out, she let me back in.

That’s just the kind of person she was.

“You know, Bea, why don’t you come over to my place and we’ll talk in person?” she said.

It was miraculous. Despite everything I said to her after she’d bared her soul—and threatened me for good measure, her own desperate situation—she invited me to her apartment in Brooklyn to speak one-on-one. John wouldn’t be home. It would be just the two of us.



* * *



? ? ?

“COME ON IN,” Syl said at the door, with warranted trepidation in her voice, until she noticed my bump. I had declined to share such news over the phone. “Oh my God! BEA!” She wrapped her arms around my giant body. Syl’s touch felt incredible. An invitation to relax, to feel safe and to be heard. She kept her arm around me to pull me inside.