At the next corner, I paused for a red light near a bus stop. Two Asian girls leaned sleepily together on the bus stop bench. Their heads touched to form a pyramid for mutual support. One wore a spray of magenta spikes, while the other’s hair was a tropical blue. They both sported nose rings and clusters of what looked like staples punched through their ears. Flame-shaped tattoos grew up out of both their blouses to lick their necks. They were young and pretty, despite their best attempts to the contrary. I could tell they were tired, rather than destitute. The pair caused me to smile faintly. They were only travelers, far from home. I suspected the dyes could be washed out and some of the metal bits were just clip-ons. Maybe the matching tattoos were spray-ons as well. In any case, they were clearly up past their bedtime.
Something about the two girls on the bench made me dig out my cell and call Holly. I figured she’d probably gone home by now. I’d avoided it up until now, not wanting to explain Jenna or apologize for meeting her. There had been a waiting game going on between us, I realized. Neither of us had called the other all day. I had to admit, there had been a lot going on and I hadn’t really thought about it much. But I figured she probably had been thinking about us. I wasn’t sure how my call would be received. Had she grown angrier, or cooled off? There was only one way to find out.
“Hello?” a familiar voice said.
She had answered on the second ring at 2:00 a.m. I figured that was a good sign.
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound neutral, as if all was well. “I’m out on the Strip—”
“Looking for another place to stay the night, is that it?” she snapped.
“I was the one who took you in last time.”
“Still, you’re looking for a bed, aren’t you? What happened? Did she have to go home to take care of her kids?”
“Holly, you’re jumping to conclusions.” I was going to continue, but hesitated. I’d been about to say that Jenna and I had never slept together—but we actually had slept in the same bed. Then I was going to say we hadn’t had sex—but we had kissed. And I’d have been lying if I said there wasn’t something going on between the two of us. I felt a little hot, despite the cool evening breezes.
“What were you going to say?” Holly asked.
“Look, Jenna isn’t my girlfriend. I’ve been helping her find her husband, who stepped into one of those rips and never came out again.”
“Oh,” she said. “That’s different. So there’s nothing between you two?”
“There have been some emotional moments. I’ve hugged her—you know, to comfort her.”
“I see,” Holly said. Her voice had turned cooler again, but not angry, not icy. Wary. Finally, she sighed. “I’m sorry then. I’m just tired of players, you know? I’ve been messed with too many times.”
I wanted to tell her I’d been under the impression we’d had some casual fun the night before, and I hadn’t figured we’d gotten engaged yet. But none of those words would help me, so I didn’t bother. Instead, I told her a heavily edited story about my day. I left out unpleasant details like shooting McKesson in the shoulder.
“I could use your help,” she said when I was finished. “I need to go back to the apartment and get my stuff. Just a few things.”
“You mean the money, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Haven’t you slipped back inside and gathered all that hidden cash up yet?”
“I tried, but they put up a new door and the cops have it taped up. My key didn’t work. But I know you can get in.”
“Yeah, OK,” I said. “Come pick me up.”
I gave her the address and ten minutes later we were driving in her car. She was quiet at first and I thought she was still angry. I thought about giving her an apology, but I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. We drove quietly through town in sparse traffic.
Holly let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right,” I said, thinking she meant her tirade concerning Jenna. “I understand the confusion.”
“No, not about—whoever.”
“What then?”
She paused for a moment, as if struggling with words. “You’ve been very nice, Quentin,” she said at last. “You don’t deserve someone like me in your life, that’s the truth.”
I glanced at her. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet.
“Remember when we first met?” she asked.
“Sure, at Tony’s.”
“I didn’t show up there by accident. I was sent there.”
Alarm bells went off in my head. I recalled thinking Holly’s appearance was a big coincidence at the time, but I’d somehow forgotten about that. I began to worry. Maybe I wasn’t paranoid enough.
“Who sent you?”
“Gilling.”
Slowly, I nodded my head. “Why’d he send you?”
“To find and steal the sunglasses. To find Tony’s stuff—whatever he had. Instead, I found you.”
My head began to pound. She’d been working for the cultists. “That’s why I found you in his basement, then? Because you failed to rip me off?”
“I didn’t plan to rip you off. I didn’t know it was going to be you I met at Tony’s place.”
“Why did Gilling chain you in his cellar?”
“I think he was trying scare me into giving his money back. But I’d already spent it by that time, even though I didn’t bring him what he wanted.”
“Let me get this straight, you took money to snuggle up to me and take my objects?”