Generation of Liars (42 page)

“Dancers? Pigalle? Ben, I wasn’t
dancing in Pigalle for a job.”

“And no offense, but it’s pretty
darn obvious that a flight attendant’s salary couldn’t cover the rent on that
fancy apartment you were living in. Heck, I’m a doctor and I can barely even
afford the neighborhood. No, you would have to be doing something far more
lucrative
than being a flight attendant.”

“But, Ben, I wasn’t dancing.”

“It’s okay, Alice, I don’t judge
you for it. I mean, I asked you to be my girlfriend knowing that’s what you did
for a living, didn’t I?”

“So you followed me because you
were afraid I would go back to Pigalle?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you getting
involved in that kind of work again. That’s why I told you that you could stay
with me as long as you need. I figured you must have run away from home and
landed in Pigalle as a dancer, that’s why your lips always get wobbly when I
ask you anything about home, because you’ve been hiding this from me. I didn’t
want you doing anything desperate to pay the rent.”

“Desperate?” I opened my mouth to
correct Ben, to let him know I was never a sleazy dancer. Yet, it occurred to
me that letting Ben believe
that
lie was probably better than letting
him know the truth.

“It’s okay, Alice, we don’t have to
keep secrets from one another anymore.”

“But I thought you were at the
hospital? How did you even see me leave?”

“I was at the hospital, but my
shift ended early. They overstaffed us. I saw you leaving the apartment
building as I was coming in. It’s been so unlike you to pry yourself off the
couch lately, so I wanted to make sure everything was okay. That’s all.” He
bent into me and kissed my forehead, and the kiss seemed to evaporate all my
anger. “What were you doing out here, Alice? Out here in the cold without even
a coat on?”

“Don’t use that tone with me, Ben.”
I let the tension renew in my voice.

“What tone, Alice?”

“The one you use when you talk to
me like I’m a mental patient who just wandered outside in her bathrobe into the
cold to chase a snowflake.”

His eyes were going up to the sky,
as if to pray away the frustration. “A bathrobe would be a marked improvement
from what you currently have on.”

“Yup, that’s the tone.”

“I’m frustrated, can you blame me?
Please just tell me what was so important you had to leave the house
half-dressed.” He paused and ran his fingers through my damp hair, the ends
were hardened like icicles. “And without even drying off from the shower.”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Ben. I just
wanted to call my family and say
hello
.”

“But you could have simply used the
phone in the apartment.”

“I know I could have. But this is a
tradition. I always call my parents from a phone booth in Paris on Christmas
Eve.” I felt guilty about lying, but I knew Ben could never understand. Ben saw
that my teeth were chattering and he took off his gloves and attentively placed
them over my hands. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and we started
walking back to the apartment.

“I didn’t know you had a tradition,
Alice. I’m sorry for worrying.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. I sunk my
chin into the warmth of his coat. “There’s probably a lot you don’t know about
me.”

*   
*    *

When we arrived back to the
apartment, I slinked into the bathroom and reached into the linen closet and
grabbed a towel to dry off my icy hair. I took a peek at the dynamite stick and
stared at it for the first time with the understanding that it had no control
over me now. I hadn’t murdered anyone. I could turn it over to the United
States Government and go back to normal. As long as I made sure Motley was
never able to hurt me again, first.

When I popped out of the bathroom,
Ben had an announcement. “Alice, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?” I asked, tucking strands of
loose hair into a ponytail.  

“I have decided that I want us to
go out to the tree market near the Eiffel Tower and get a Christmas tree
together so we can decorate it.”

“That’s a fantastic idea.”

Ben stretched out his arms onto my
shoulders and stooped his knees so that he looked me in the eyes. “Will you let
me give you some of my warm clothes to put on before we go outside this time?”

“Sure,” I said, playfully squirming
under his grip and turning my back to him. I led him by the arm into the
bedroom. I climbed up onto the bed and crossed my knees over themselves and
asked him, “What do you have for me?”

He trotted to the dresser. “Aside
from an elaborate and expansive line of high-fashion hospital scrubs, I do
believe I have some stylish, yet leisurely, apparel for the fine lady.” He
pulled out a wooly gray sweater and tossed it to me. When I slid it on over my
shoulders, the sleeves were comically long on me. “Now for the bottoms.” He
selected a pair of gray corduroy pants. “It says
slim fit
, so maybe that
will help account for the vast size discrepancy.”

I slid into the pants. “Belt,
doctor. Stat.”

He slid a leatherette belt from the
dresser and I coiled it securely to my waist. He cocked one eye and planted his
finger on his chin. “One more thing.”

“Oh?”

He pulled out a wooly hat that was
charcoal gray and adorned with a fuzzy fabric pom pom on the top. He placed it
on my head like he was placing a cherry on a sundae. It slid down my forehead
and totally covered one side of my face. I wrapped my arms around Ben’s waist.

He collapsed down next to me onto
the bed and pulled me in. “Well,” he said, lifting his head from the kiss, “the
tree market probably isn’t open all that late, plus we will want to rush if we
plan on getting the tree back here and decorating it before I need to leave for
my shift.”

“You have a shift tonight?” I
asked.

“Yes, overnight, but I will be back
in the morning. Then we can spend Christmas together.”

We left the apartment and caught
the train. I propped my chin on the seat headrest and watched the city streets
zoom by. With Ben being gone later that night, I knew it would be the perfect
opportunity to work out a plan to finally take down Motley and get back
Rabbit’s money in the process. Then I would truly be free, once and for all. I
smiled up at Ben. He stroked the hat away from my eyes and traced his fingers
along the fogged-up glass. 

We picked out a little three-footer
and dragged it home on the train, through the tight doorways of Ben’s
apartment, and placed it in front of the window. It barely fit in the tight
corner and its frond’s blocked the Ophelia painting that hung on the wall. I
rummaged through Ben’s CDs until I found Christmas music and popped it in and let
it play softly in the background as we decorated the tree. I strung popcorn and
garland while Ben warmed cocoa on the stove. Ben snapped a picture of me
smiling beside the decorated tree.

“It looks great, Alice. It finally
feels like home in here.” He put a warm mug in my hands.

“It does feel like home, Ben,
doesn’t it?” I smiled and took a sip. “I guess life is looking pretty good for
us, huh?”

“I’m glad you’re in high spirits
tonight. There’s nobody I would rather spend Christmas with. I hope I spend all
my Christmas Eve’s decorating a tree with you for many seasons to come. Do you
feel the same way?”

“Of course, Ben.”

Actually, I was feeling a lot of
different things. But in that moment, Ben was my home. I wanted to believe so.
I wanted to believe it was true love. After the tree was done, I noted that Ben
drew into a quiet disposition. Almost like he was watching me, monitoring me. I
knew I couldn’t really blame him for worrying about me, after all, he had
watched me be the poor weepy, depressed girlfriend who barely left his
apartment for months. Then to find me, barely dressed, and wandering the
streets of Paris in the snow. Now tonight I was all lit with excitement.
Probably he was afraid I was having a breakdown and I would drown myself like
the portrait of Shakespeare’s Ophelia that he loved so much.

It was almost eight o’clock and Ben
was chugging a cup of coffee before heading to the hospital for his overnight
shift. I walked over to him and kissed him on the nose. “Love, do you have a
Paris phone directory?”

“It’s in the drawer beneath the
sink.” He rubbed my arm tenderly before he would let me go and I reached over
and ran my hand through his thick, brown hair. “Who are you calling?”

“Still doing a little job
searching.” I was padding over to the drawer.  I put the thick directory
down on the table with a thud. “I can’t mooch off you forever.”

“Job hunting on Christmas Eve?”

I opened the phone directory under
the letter T. “Getting a head start on my New Year’s resolution.” I scanned
mid-way down the page and saw that Vivienne Ting had a number listed in Paris.

“Very intrepid of you, Alice.” Ben
was draining the last of his coffee into his mouth.

I wrote down the number listed for
Vivienne on a piece of paper, looking up when I heard Ben get up off the couch
and walk into the bedroom to get dressed for his night shift at the hospital. I
gave him a smile when he shuffled from the bedroom over to the bathroom,
dressed in minty-green scrubs.

“I can’t believe you got stuck on
the overnight shift on Christmas Eve,” I called to him over the sound of water
running from the bathroom faucet.

“Don’t worry, Alice.” He was
tapping his razor against the porcelain sink. “It will go by fast and then I
will be back here before you know it to celebrate with you.”

When Ben kissed me goodbye on his
way out, I inhaled the smell of fresh shaving cream from his cheeks. As soon as
the door was shut behind him I dialed Vivienne’s number. When she picked up I
heard the searing bullets of Warcraft in the background, which meant there was
a good chance Rabbit was with her.

“Vivienne, it’s Alice.”

“Alice?” Vivienne repeated my name
with trepidation, like it was a forbidden word. After Vivienne said my name, I
heard Rabbit’s voice bust into the background, yelling something about six
million dollars, and then a nasty name for the female anatomy.

“There was six million dollars in
that bag?” I asked Vivienne.

“Yup,” she replied, ever so
mournfully.

“Rabbit is still upset about the
money, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s all he really
talks about. He barely leaves my couch. It was a lot of money, Alice.”

“What if I said I had an early
Christmas present for Rabbit?”

“A gift?” Vivienne asked. “Unless
you have six million dollars sitting under your Christmas tree and tied with a
big red bow, I doubt Rabbit cares.”

“Vivienne, what if I told you that
I’m going back to Motley’s house tonight and I’m not leaving without that bag
of money?”

“I would tell you that you’re
insane, Alice.”

“Just listen,” I pleaded. “I’ve had
a lot of time to myself for thinking, and I promised Rabbit I would get his
money back, and I need to uphold that promise if I want to ever truly be a good
person.” I grabbed one of my cigarettes and stuffed it into the corner of my
mouth. “You have to understand why I need to do this. I mean you’re the one who
lectured me about what a self-centered person I am.”

“I will admit, Alice, I’m impressed
by your sudden burst of morality. But are you sure you really want to take this
risk? Motley is overdue on killing you. The other times you got away were just
luck, but this time I’m pretty sure he’ll gut you and string your entrails like
tinsel over his Christmas tree.”

“Thanks for the imagery, Viv.” I
was bending to light my cigarette over the gas burner. “The thing is, I want
you and Rabbit to come. I can’t do it without you guys.”

“You expect Rabbit to go back into
that
house after he was shot and held captive in the wine cellar?”

“If my plan works, none of us will
have to worry about Motley ever again after tonight. You and Rabbit can run off
into the ever-loving sunset with the cash.”

“Rabbit really does want that
money.”

“So then it’s settled. You guys are
coming along.”

 “We’ll do it. If I can
convince Rabbit, I mean.”

“Viva la Viv!” I cheered. “Listen,
it’s almost nine now, so meet me at Motley’s house in thirty minutes. Just go
to the bushes in the adjoining neighbor’s yard we used last time to scope
things out.”

“Okay. But it might take some
convincing for Rabbit.”

I assured Vivienne a few more times
that six million dollars did buy a kind of happiness that was worth risking
your life for. “Bring your ropes.” These were the last words I uttered before
hanging up.

Chapter Forty-four: The Hole

T
HE
COUPLE WAS lying side by side, shaded by the midwinter bristles of a rose bush.
I startled them when a twig snapped beneath my heel. Two sets of wide, owlish
eyes were primed on me.

  “You’re late,” Vivienne
chided, “and you’re wearing the wrong shoes for this mission.” She was
referring to the silver stilettos I was wearing. They had been the only pair of
shoes I had at Ben’s. I had showed up with them the night I moved into the
apartment permanently, right after Motley had gotten run over. One shoe had my
confession note inside it, practically embedded into the sole from the mix of
chlorine and sweat the shoes had endured. I thought the confession might be a
good luck charm now that my secret turned out to be untrue. Now that I knew
Heather Gilmore was alive.  

“I had to stop for cigarettes,” I
replied. “Merry Christmas.”

“Hello, Alice,” Rabbit said
sardonically.

“Are you ready for your stocking to
get a whole lot heavier?” I asked. I was pounding a cigarette loose from the
pack. “Six million dollars heavier, to be exact.”