WAIT. Lloyd scrutinizes me. AT LEAST ADMIT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO. Lloyd’s chest rises, and then it caves, and he puts his head in his hands. His hair is wet with sweat, and I resist recoiling as he sits with a sigh beside me, rests his head on my arms, which are still bound at the wrists.
Now that my feet have been released and he’s talking calmly to me, anything is possible. “Lloyd, let’s talk about it another time. Let’s get out of here. I’ll explain to Sax or whoever.”
JUST ADMIT IT FOR ONCE.
“If you have proof, show me.”
DO YOU THINK HE’LL FORGIVE YOU WHEN I TELL HIM WHAT YOU WANTED TO DO?
“Do you really have proof he didn’t die in Seoul?”
YOU STILL WON’T TELL THE TRUTH.
“I don’t know what you mean. If you’re trying to free Jaesung and want to speak to the president about it, then focus on that, but please cut this tape off me.” I hold out my wrists to him. He pats the scissors in his right hand against the side of the shotgun. Eerie silence, with only the click click click of metal on metal. But I ignore it. It’s going to be fine now. I can feel his body relax beside mine.
This will be the shortest crisis Sax has every faced. I’m almost delirious, the high I feel. Relief surges through me. All I had to do was apologize and pretend I believed you were alive. Lloyd is a child throwing a tantrum because no one will give him the toy that he wants. The guns made it a potentially deadly tantrum, but then again, we’ve been through gunfire before. You, me, and Lloyd. We’ve seen people suffer around us.
“You have to be reasonable. If they think you’re crazy, they’re not going to let you near the president,” I tell him and try to picture what proof he might have.
YOU’RE STILL LYING TO ME.
“Was it Serena’s contact at the embassy? Was it the journalist I met in New York?”
He jerks his head up, jumps to his feet, and whirls toward me. Too close for me to stand up and speak out. YOU STILL PLAN TO DO IT.
“You sound crazy again,” I say and look up at him. The angle strains my neck.
YOU’RE TRICKING ME.
“I do believe you, if you have proof . . .” I extend my hands out to him.
The scissors are open in his hands, and I see he’s gripping them by the blades, and they cut him. YOU’RE STILL LYING TO ME.
“No, I wouldn’t—look, you’re hurting your hand,” I say.
WHAT?
“Your hand, Lloyd. We were having a good talk. Sit back down,” I tell him even as my heart has picked up its pace at the threat in his voice.
YOU CUT ME, YOU BITCH. He throws the scissors against the wall opposite us with the force of his entire body. I duck—we all duck as they bounce back and fall to the floor. Then he turns to me.
“I didn’t do that. How could I? Look, my hands.” I hold out my wrists to him again.
“She’s telling the truth,” Faye calls out.
YOU’RE ALL TRYING TO TRICK ME. He raises the shotgun and points it at me. BUT THEY DON’T KNOW, DO THEY? THEY DON’T KNOW YOU’RE PLANNING A MURDER.
“She didn’t do anything to you—you did it to yourself,” Heather shouts. Lloyd aims the gun in the direction of her voice.
YOU THINK YOONA IS SUCH A SAINT. SHE’LL LET YOU DIE RATHER THAN TELL THE TRUTH.
I was wrong. He’s erratic and makes no sense. All the progress I thought I’d made evaporates. I can see in his eyes that in his desperation he will kill all of us.
What have I done? And then I know this can’t be the way it ends. You wouldn’t give up. You would reason with him. I’ve seen my mother reason with my father. From her place on the floor where my father pushed her down, she would beg for our lives. I don’t know why, but that’s what comes to me now, this image of her.
“Lloyd, think about Jaesung,” I tell him.
YOU DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT HIM. YOU DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYBODY BUT YOURSELF.
“That’s not true. You said you brought Daiyu in here because you knew I cared about her and Heather and Faye.”
JUST SAY IT, YOONA.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
TELL THEM WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO TODAY.
“So this isn’t about Jaesung at all.” Tears rise in my eyes. For a few minutes I’d begun to hope. If Lloyd had proof that you were alive—I hadn’t let myself hope again until today.
SAY IT. I’LL KILL HEATHER TO MAKE YOU SAY IT. YOU KNOW I WILL.
Heather and Faye and Daiyu are whispering and looking from him to me.
“This isn’t about Jaesung being alive at all. You don’t even want to speak to Reagan.”
I’VE GOT TWO MORE GIRLS TO KILL AFTER HEATHER TO GET TO REAGAN. FIRST, YOU ADMIT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO, AND SECOND, YOU SAY YOU AREN’T GOING TO DO IT NOW BECAUSE I WON’T LET YOU.
“Do you really have proof he’s alive?”
I WANT YOU TO SAY IT.
“You want me to keep the baby. Fine. I’ll do it. We’ll do it. We’ll raise this baby together.” My voice breaks.
Heather takes a sharp breath. Faye says, “What are you saying?” Daiyu is silent. But I’m watching Lloyd. He squints his eyes at me.
Yes, there’s a baby.
44
I believed the end of the tour didn’t mean the end of us. I don’t know why I was confident of that. We kissed on the bus all the way back into the city. Lloyd cleared his throat a few times when the tour guides walked down the aisle, and we separated, but then when the coast was clear, we returned to it. Swollen lips and heavy breathing and hands under each other’s clothes.
“I’ll see you soon. Sooner than you want, probably,” you said in my ear. We were standing on the sidewalk with our bags at our feet. You stepped back because people were crowding us on the sidewalk. You held up the piece of paper where I’d written my aunt’s address and her phone number. I didn’t trust my voice, or how suddenly my eyes flooded with tears, and turned toward my aunt’s car. There was no reason to believe I wouldn’t see you again, and I scolded myself for doubting it.
We sped off, and I kept my head down. The chauffeur had come for me. I was relieved my aunt was too busy to pick me up herself.