Chapter 29

R ain had let up, but not for long. Still a haze over the area when I met Ruth at News Café, thick and dark clouds overhead, and the streets outside the window were still slick with rain, glistening in the headlights of passing cars. The ocean looked darker, angrier, in that way it did in a heavy storm, even after the rain had stopped falling, and maybe it was pathetic fallacy, but I felt like I was being beaten down by the universe as I headed over to where Ruth was sitting by the window.

"Judging by that dark look," Ruth said, "ambitious close didn't work out."

I sat down in front of where she'd ordered me my usual, setting my umbrella down next to me and pulling up to the table. "You ordered for me," I said lightly. "Thanks, Ruth."

"Hiding from reality?"

"Call it an addiction." I tucked into the sandwich, letting my eyes wander as I chewed slowly. Out the window, out to the endless expanse of the dark ocean. "But sometimes you gotta… indulge. Relapse a little bit. Sometimes, when things suck, you have to let yourself suck too."

"Thanks for that, Socrates. Now let's get back to the topic at hand. What happened? Cameron refused to buy?"

"Had she ever really been looking to buy?" I said thinly. "Not that she was lying, but… maybe just… hiding from reality herself. When you pretend something isn't there and go about your life, but you know deep down that it's lurking and you're just pretending."

"Christ, woman, this really got to you. Did you two break up?"

I sighed. "Not yet. But if she gets back together with her husband, that's probably bad news for a relationship."

She pushed her plate aside, leaning in and folding her arms. "You're not serious."

"He showed up, timing of all timings. Waltzed in while I was trying to convince her that she deserved it all, that it was okay for her to have the damn things she dreamed of, and…" I shook my head. "Gave her until midnight before they finally drop the bomb. Played on her insecurities about how… how…" I gestured vaguely. "How she wasn't really suited to luxury. To living like royalty. And about how many other people are on her brand—"

"As if he's not the one threatening it?"

"That's basically what I said." I took a bite of my sandwich, talking with my mouth full. "Told him to go fuck himself, that he was a sniveling weasel with no soul and no one would care when he died. I got a little carried away."

She scowled. "A little carried away? Girl, I'd have said more."

"I was in the middle of saying more when he left."

"So that's it? She gave up, walked out, decided—"

"Said she's going to go… talk to her team," I said airily. "Make some decisions. But there was a lot of weight to the way she said it."

"Did she give you a sad goodbye kiss?"

I looked away. "That's the deciding factor?"

"Just answer the question."

I sighed.

"Shit, she did. Okay, this is serious."

"I kind of thought it was even before that…"

She folded her hands on the table. "So what are we doing? We killing Kevin?"

"No—we're not killing anyone. What do you mean, what are we doing? You said it yourself, this is her decision to make. I just… laid my cards on the table, let her know what's on the line, and now I leave it to her to make the choice that's right for her."

"Do I look like I care what I said?" She put her hands up. "You're in love with this girl, and from what you've told me, I'm willing to believe she's in love with you too. And everyone knows you've gotta fight for love, dammit."

"Sometimes love fights back."

"Yeah, and that's when you try harder. You really just want to walk away? Leave it at that?"

"No, I don't want to—" I gestured at the air, straining for words. "Christ, woman, of course I'm in love with her, and of course I'll never find someone like her again, and of course I want to be with her no matter what. But what am I supposed to do, force her to throw it all away for me?"

"I don't know what you're supposed to do, but—we can work it out together—"

"Then you go first," I snapped. "If you've got any ideas, I'm fresh out."

She squeezed her hands on the tabletop, looking down. The moment stretched out into angry, strained silence, until it faded out into a sad, aching hollowness, and I sighed, hanging my head.

"Sorry. I'm not mad at you."

"I'm just thinking," she said quietly. "There has to be something."

"You know—" I shifted. "This is my problem I've gotten myself into—"

"Don't even try that. I know you're better than that."

I sighed, a long, slow sound, settling into this sick, heavy weight in my gut, and I picked at my sandwich. "Thanks, Ruth," I said quietly. "You, uh… this… it means a lot. All the help you've given me. The way you've been there my whole time in this city—"

"Stop talking like you're walking away," she said, giving me a dirty look. I swallowed.

"It's just… a lot. Weighing on me. And I just… even if I end up in Vegas—"

"You won't—"

"We'll still be friends," I said. "Right?"

She studied me for the longest time, dark eyes narrowing, and I watched her cycle through a hundred things to say before she took another bite of her food, chewing it slowly. "Of course," she muttered. "I'd just… miss that stupid cat."

"Earl would be devastated without you to blare Real Housewives around him."

She gave me a thick laugh. "Ah, you and that fucking cat. What is it with lesbians and cats, anyway?"

"We… we both habitually avoid the ones we love most and then yowl pitifully that they're not around even though it's our own faults?"

"Deep fucking cut and it's self-inflicted."

"I'm not some kind of fashion business kingpin," I said. "I'm not convincing the brand ownership to keep Cameron on. And I can't exactly make up for the loss of a mega-millions brand…"

"But something's on your mind," she said, her voice quiet. I pursed my lips.

"Just that I want to go turn Kevin's face inside-out. Probably shouldn't."

"I'd go with you," she said.

"Don't tempt me."

She shrugged wildly. "I'm trying to tempt you to do something. Even if it doesn't work. I just can't stand seeing this black cloud hanging over you."

That black cloud again… maybe all of Miami was a black cloud right now. Sure looked like it outside the window, distant flashes of lightning out over the water.

Either way, she was right to call it that. I was probably no better now than I had been when Queen Pearl had collapsed—than when I'd first met Adam Garcia and he'd seen that black cloud.

To be fair, it was hardly my fault this time. I'd tried everything I damn well could. Just that sometimes, no matter how damn hard you tried…

The coin was still going to land on tails again eventually. No coin could keep landing on heads forever, no matter how many times it had landed on tails before.

Still… funny how the black cloud was the worst part of it all. That the most painful part of this whole experience was the way I found myself drifting now, aimless—was this sensation of being powerless. I'd wanted so badly to give up and just accept that I couldn't do anything, that I'd done all I could—wanted so badly for someone to come along and tell me I'd done everything possible, that nobody could have made it work in that scenario, that I'd truly just had terrible luck and that it really wasn't fair—but now I was here. And I wasn't happy.

"What are you brooding about?" Ruth said, and I turned to my bag without even realizing it, reaching inside.

"Just thinking," I said.

"About what?"

I pulled a coin out, holding it up to gleam in the low light from the window. "Heads I do something even if it kills me. Tails I go to Vegas."

She gave me a dirty look. "Are you fucking kidding me? This kind of thing, and you're putting it on a coinflip?"

"Isn't everything in life just on a coinflip or two?"

"But—"

I flipped the coin. The rest of the universe faded out into the background as it flicked into the air, hung there, and dropped back into the palm of my hand, where I clapped it over the back of my other hand, keeping it covered. Ruth leaned over her side of the table, watching, gripping the table tightly, and I found myself holding onto it longer than I should have, my breath short, my heart pounding.

Now or never.

I lifted my hand to see it from my side, my throat tight, and my stomach dropped when I saw it, barely visible in the dim light under my cupped hand.

Tails.

"Well?" Ruth said, and I found myself staring at it, a cold sensation down my back—clammy, heavy, sticky. This oppressive weight that settled in, dragging me down with it… the black cloud.

That damn cloud was going to follow me to the desert. Out in Las Vegas and the rain would pour down.

" Well? " Ruth said, and I clapped my hand over the coin again, putting it in my bag.

"Heads."

∞∞∞

Cameron

Someone knocked on the door, and I looked up to the last person I thought I'd see right now.

Of course, I figured it made sense. It had been a long time this woman had had some kind of preternatural sense around me.

"You're looking well," Anya said, inviting herself into my office.

"Hm." I set my phone aside, face-down. She didn't need to know I was looking at a picture of London at a time like this, like some kind of lovesick fool. "Somehow I suspect you've seen me doing better."

"Where is she?" She sat in the armchair opposite me, crossing her legs and leaning back.

"You certainly make yourself at home quickly. Did I even invite you?"

"Where is she?"

I sighed, standing up, picking up my coffee as I leaned against the window. Mostly empty. Needed another one, and quickly. London would probably have already been on it… ever the most attentive person I'd ever met.

Was I ever going to stop thinking of London every second I lived?

"Miami, for now," I said, gripping the cup a little tighter. "Sure she won't stick around once all this is done. She, uh… never liked the rain."

"A time like this, and you still push her away?"

I finished off the coffee, letting my arm drop, holding the empty cup by my side as I rested my head against the window. "I didn't… want her to see me like this," I sighed.

Behind me, Anya snorted. "I guess color me shocked. The woman who dresses up as somebody else to hide her real feelings, hiding her feelings again."

I tossed the empty cup into the trash can, dropping back into my chair, suddenly bone-deep exhausted. I'd been hoping to push the adrenaline out to the end of the day and then let the weight of it all catch up with me, but first I'd let myself wander back to thoughts of London when I had a thousand things that needed doing, and then Anya walked in. I needed to get onto the discussion with Kerry and Sam soon, but… Christ, the idea was overwhelming right now.

"Anya… what am I supposed to do?"

She pursed her lips. "You do the same thing I always told you to. I'm not wishy-washy."

I winced. "So… protect my career. The things I've built. And don't throw them away for love."

She pulled a sour expression. "That's what you took away from that? I swear, you're dense. I'd never talked to you about your career, woman, I'd talked to you about your dreams. About looking for what you really want. And the other thing I always told you was that Kyle is unbearable."

"Kevin."

"So throwing away the things you really want to go back to Kyle hardly serves the purpose, does it?"

I sighed, pinching my brow. "And for the entire company of people who are counting on me to keep up this brand, their livelihoods?"

"Just because that man is threatening them on your behalf doesn't mean it's your fault what happens to them." She stood up, slowly, walking to the window, standing just next to my chair, looking at me from the corner of her eye. "Besides, these things always end up so much less scary and destructive in practice than in reality, don't they? How long did you talk yourself out of leaving that man, telling yourself it would be devastating, unbearable?"

I looked back down at my phone. "If this is the way things have turned out, maybe I was right."

"Ah, you're so cynical. Sure, something terrible's come up. But you also fell in love, saw the world, met yourself as you really are. And something terrible would have happened sooner or later staying behind and avoiding the hard decision, too. And besides—you already know this would only buy you time anyway."

Frustrated me how she was always smarter than me. I squeezed my hands tight on the desk surface. "I… I know. He's probably still going to get the brand dissolved if I go back, too, just… slower. But I can help people out of it, get everybody to go…"

"These things happen, Cameron. You're not the only business owner out there who'd lose everything even just this week. It's the constant flow of life. But again… I think you'll find yourself surprised by how well things work out when you lean into it." She put her hands up. "But don't mind me. I've just been right about everything before, doesn't mean I'll be right about this."

"Coin can still come up on the other side," I murmured, and she gave me a look.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. Just thinking of… something."

She squinted. "Your girlfriend?"

I laughed, catching myself off-guard. "As if I'm ever thinking of anything else. From what she's said… I wonder."

She studied me a while longer before she smiled, softly, a little lopsided. "You're doing something, aren't you?"

I looked down at my phone, opening it up to the picture again—one I'd taken of London against the balcony of that place she'd just tried to convince me to finally buy. The shape of her against the blue Miami sky—the woman who'd broken me down into so many pieces and put me back together.

"Is it too fast to say I'm in love with her?" I said lightly, and Anya laughed—a big, warm laugh that came from her belly.

"You kids are always like that. Worrying if it's too fast… once you're old, you'll miss those wild, untamed feelings. Be in love with her. And do something about it."

I squeezed my phone tighter, swiping to another picture—her face, up close, laughing at a breakfast we'd had together, lit up from one side by the golden light of sunrise over the water.

She'd told me I'd ruined her for anyone else. I didn't think she realized that she'd ruined me worse.

"She said I could contact her about anything," I said.

"I would hope so," she said. "Sure you'll be married before the year's out at this rate."

"Not her. I have an idea. Sorry—I'm just talking to myself." I turned off my phone, standing up, turning back to face her. "Anya—thank you."

She stared at me for an eternity before she softened into her gentle smile. "Ah, thank me with actions, not words. You know what I'm asking for. Get to it."

I would.

Otherwise, I was going to miss that damn woman.