Darker Than Any Shadow

Chapter Forty-four

“Dammit, Rico, you know I hate surprises.”

“You only hate boring surprises, like fire drills. You love stuff like this, admit it.”

Poets packed the apartment. It was wall-to-wall dreadlocks and Rasta beanies and hipster jeans, beer and wine and salty bar food. And laughter, almost too much for the bare walls to contain. Rico sat beside me on the sofa, where I could prop up my sad throbbing foot.

“You could have dropped a hint.”

“Whatever. Trey was generous enough to offer, and we were smart enough to take him up on it.”

I blinked at him. “Trey did what?”

“Yeah, baby girl. He decimated the guest list to twenty. And I was afraid he was going to frisk everybody. But it worked out okay. He even let in the camera guy.”

I glanced back at the kitchen. Trey had his back to the wall and a glass of Pellegrino on the counter. His eyes worked the room like a SWAT team. I smiled and raised my glass of fizzy water, mouthed “thank you” in his direction. He ducked his head, but I saw the corner of his mouth quirk in that almost smile.

“That’s why Frankie’s here, I’m sure, making sure the camera guy gets her best side one final time.” I looked around the room. “No Cricket and no Jackson, though.”

Rico shook his head. “Padre said he made bail. But they’re keeping a low profile.”

“Are they charging him?”

“Not with murder, not yet anyway. Right now he’s on the hook for tampering with evidence.”

I tried to wrap my mind around it and failed. Their absence was palpable. And yet the world continued to spin, round and round and round again. And life moved with it, ever forward.

Padre banged a spoon against the rim of his glass. “Listen up, people. Let’s take a moment to thank our host and hostess.”

A chorus of verbal approval and applause at this. Trey unfrowned a little and nodded tightly in acknowledgment. I smiled and tried to look like a hostess. Padre kept his glass high.

“It’s been a hard road getting here, and there’s hard road still to come. We’ve suffered losses, too many. But we’ve stuck together, and we’ll continue to stick together, for each other, and for the word.” He lifted the glass in Rico’s direction. “You are the best of us, man. Bring it home.”

The crowd caught the chorus. “Rico! Rico! Rico!” Other voices chimed in with “Speech! Speech!” while someone else said “Poem! Poem!”

Rico stood. He cleared his throat and motioned them quiet. “For once, I got no words. Y’all are the best. Peace and blessings.”

And then he sat back down, and the party geared up again.

***

An hour passed before Trey came and sat beside me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, drowsy from the meds. “Rico said this was your idea.”

“Yes. There were several practical reasons. Containment-wise, it’s—”

“Hush. And thank you.”

He stayed in the kitchen for the rest of the party, washing champagne glasses by hand. Rico kept me company in the living room. Somehow, despite all the hugging, he remained unwrinkled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Thanks to you, I’ve got Trey on me like a heat-seeking missile. And Garrity’s officially on duty down at the Fox. Plus whoever else you’ve decided needs to follow me around.”

I glanced over at my capable boyfriend. “Yeah.”

“And you’re safe here, which eases my mind. I know that’s not easy for you, but I’m proud of you for doing it.”

I swatted his arm. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.” He laughed. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s the meds.”

But I knew he was right, even if my instincts recoiled at the prospect. Trey’s building was a fortress. Gated entry, a key-locked elevator, plus a concierge with a snotty attitude and a willingness to cause trouble at the least provocation. Add to that Trey’s self-installed double deadbolt locks, and no one got in without his permission. Besides, I had my gun, pepper spray, and a crutch. I was practically invincible.

“So show me this plan of yours for keeping me in the loop.”

Rico grinned. “In the bedroom.”

***

The first thing I noticed was the flat-screen television hanging on the wall, as thin as a deck of cards and big as a refrigerator door. I sat at the foot of the bed, and Rico handed me my computer.

“There are nine fixed remote access cameras—the entrance, the staircases, even the green room. They’re on the same public access system, so once you’re in, you’ll be able to see whatever they see, including backstage. And once the show comes on, you’ll be able to see center stage all close-up on the TV.”

Between the television and the computer, I had a bird’s eye view of almost every place a bad guy could lurk. I tapped the computer screen, and the grid sorted itself into a neat checkerboard pattern. I tapped one square, and the view from that camera expanded.

“And you’ve got everybody’s cell phone number, right?”

“Garrity’s, Trey’s, Frankie’s, Padre’s, yours.”

“Good.” Rico pulled a DVD from his pocket. “And this will keep you busy until the show starts.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise.”

“I’ve had enough surprises.”

He slid it into the computer, tapped a few keys. It opened with a shot of the Atlanta skyline, the rhinestone slash of Midtown. Then a solitary mike stand in the spotlight, the background like dark velvet. As I watched, a younger version of Rico stepped behind it, cupping the microphone in one hand. He smiled and dropped his eyes. “You begin in the softest of ways,” he said.

I grinned. “Padre’s video. He finished it.”

“He did. We’re all on there—Frankie, Cricket, Vigil, Lex, even Padre himself. He’s been working like a man obsessed.” Rico dropped his voice. “He told me about the Alzheimer’s. He told me you knew.”

I laid my hand on top of his. “It was his secret to tell, not mine.”

“I know. He also told me that his ability to work with images is as sharp as ever. So this video is something to celebrate for all kinds of reasons. Enjoy it.”

I squeezed his hand. “Promise me you’ll be okay?”

“I promise.” He dropped his voice. “I’m gonna get the rest of these people out of here, so you can have a minute with Trey. He did this for you, you know.” Rico leaned closer. “He really is a great boyfriend.”

He said it with longing in his mouth, bittersweet. And I knew he was missing Adam. I wanted to console him, to tell him all things come in time, to be patient.

“You’re gonna be awesome,” I said instead.

He shrugged, cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

“Break a leg, okay? Or whatever poets break for good luck.”

He regarded my braces and bandages. “Looks like you took that hit for me.”

***

Soon the raucous laughter and music softened into murmurs, punctuated by the opening and closing of the refrigerator, the front door, the various goings of the guests. I propped myself on the sofa and watched the exodus. Sloane and the Hollywood entourage packed it up for the Fox, and most of the crowd vanished with them. Trey stayed in the kitchen, rinsing the champagne glasses. He was still in boyfriend mode, but I knew that would change soon.

Eventually, Rico herded the stragglers out, then hugged me goodbye himself and left for the elevator. Trey now stood at his desk with his back to me, his shoulder holster in place, the dark leather a stark contrast to his white shirt. I heard the snick of the nine-millimeter magazine sliding into place, the soft clink of the bullets as he loaded his spare.

When he was ready, I walked him to the door despite his insistence I get in bed. He put the back of his hand to my forehead.

“It’s not the flu,” I said.

“The doctor said to watch for signs of infection.”

“I’m not infected.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I put your cell phone on the bedside table, next to the pain medicine—your next dose is in an hour. Your gun’s in the drawer, in the holster, fully loaded with extra ammo. And here’s the remote for the television. I put fresh batteries in.”

He handed me a rectangle of black plastic with three dozen miniscule buttons on it. I had to squint to make them out.

“It also works the ceiling fan and the window shades.” He checked his watch. “You have forty-five minutes before the show starts. Check in with me when you get the system functioning.”

“I will.”

He started to leave, but I tugged at his elbow. “Keep him safe.”

“I will.”

He looked like he meant it too, him on one side of the threshold and me on the other, him sliding into duty, me sliding into all-by-myselfness. Already the wall was up. I could feel its perimeter, impenetrable.

“One more thing,” he said. “Gabriella will be here in a few minutes.”

I froze. “Gabriella?”

“Yes. I gave her your key. She’ll let herself in.”

There was so much wrong with that statement, I didn’t know where to start. “You gave her my key?”

“Yes.”

“Without asking?”

“You were asleep.”

“You’re missing the point.”

He exhaled sharply. “Probably. But your staying alone was not an option. Garrity was supposed to stay, but he got called in, and Gabriella was the only available person I trusted.”

“You can’t—”

“Yes, I can. You told me to tell you what you had to do. That’s what I’m doing.”

I felt the argument at the back of my tongue, and I set my teeth to keep it in. “We are soooo gonna talk about this later.”

“I know.” He paused at the door. “I also took your cigarettes. And your car keys. We can talk about that later too.”

And then he shut the door, and I heard the deadbolt engage. My face burned, like red heat waves were bursting out the top of my head.

“Oh, we are gonna talk all right,” I said to the empty living room. “It’s gonna be epic. F*cking Armageddon.”