Big Red Tequila (Tres Navarre #1)(109)

Lillian stood up, hugging her arms. She wouldn’t look at me.

"The hell with you, if that’s what you think."

She said it with as much coldness as she could muster, but her expression was the same as it had been when Dan Sheff had lied to her in the hospital room—concealed relief.

"You couldn’t let go of me because of the secret you were carrying around," I said. "Now for the first time, that secret is gone. You’ve got to either try reconstructing our relationship so you don’t have to deal with a ghost, or end it for good and hope you can move on to something totally new. Either way, you’re terrified that it won’t work, that I’ll keep poisoning your life."

She spoke with surprising softness. "Two weeks ago you were sure we’d still be perfect together. You were willing to come back and try after all these years."

"Yes."

"You’re telling me now you’re going to shut out the possibility? You’re so sure it wouldn’t work?"

"Yes," I lied. "I’m sure."

She stared at me, looking for chinks in the armor. I didn’t let her find any. Slowly, the tightness in her shoulder muscles relaxed.

“All of that," she said softly, "just for you to leave me again."

She waited for a response. It was hard, it was very hard, but I let her have the final word.

Then she turned and walked out of the gazebo, down to her mother’s empty black Cadillac. It was much too big, much too formal a car for her, I thought. But as she drove off, she looked as if she were learning to be at home behind the wheel.

I took my suit coat off, then walked down to the corner of Austin Highway and Eisenhower, letting the sun turn me into a walking water fountain while I waited for the bus. There was a vendor on the corner selling fresh fruit next to black velvet paintings of Aztec Warriors and Bleeding Jesuses. I guess I looked like I needed something. He smiled crookedly and handed me a free slice of watermelon. I thanked him for not giving me one of the paintings instead.

"Hey, vato," someone said behind me.

I turned and saw Ralph leaning out the window of his maroon Lincoln and grinning like a fiend.

"You lose your wheels, man?"

I shrugged. “More like I lost Jess’s. They’re denying me visiting rights to the VW."

Ralph laughed and showed me a bottle of Herradura Anejo and a six-pack of Big Red.

“You still need friends like these?" he asked.

"Only more than anything," I told him, and I got in the car.