Day of the Dead (16 page)

‘Sarong, señoras? Dresses?
¿Vestidos?
' A beach vendor, a stocky Indian woman, with dresses and bolts of batik-dyed fabric draped over her arms, came up to the low, peach-painted wall.

‘Ahora no,'
Vicky said.
‘Gracias.'

‘Look,' the vendor said, holding up a tiny tie-dyed dress. ‘For a little girl.'

‘No, thank you.'

The vendor kept the same expression – the polite smile, the neutral eyes – and continued down the beach, in search of nonexistent customers.

‘It's sad,' Vicky said, staring after her.

There was a chime from Michelle's iPhone – a text. She retrieved it from her Fred Segal tote.

chck yr cc accounts tomorrow. ted.

Michelle stared at it.

She felt a number of things at once. Violated that he knew these things about her, that he had access to her private life. Ashamed that she hadn't objected when he'd made the offer at lunch, that she'd just acquiesced. She could tell herself that she hadn't taken him seriously then, but that wasn't really true.

And curious.

What had he paid for?

‘I heard they found bodies,' Michelle said. ‘I mean, up at the dump.'

Vicky frowned. ‘Bodies? Not that I know of. I guess it's possible, though.' She rolled her eyes and raised her glass. ‘Honey, they find all kinds of things up at that dump!'

The next morning she checked her credit-card accounts on the iPhone. The roaming charges would be a fortune, but she didn't trust the Net bar.

The Working Assets was paid off. Her American Airlines AAdvantage Visa was, too. The United Mileage Plus, the AmEx Blue, and the Chase Visa were still close to maxed.

Two dates, two credit cards.

She was supposed to meet Daniel tonight at El Tiburón.

Did that mean Gary would pay off another one?

‘Oh, fuck,' she whispered. This was not a good way to be thinking.

But how was she
supposed
to think about it?

She made a list in her head of what she knew.

She knew that Gary had power over her. That he could help her, or hurt her, and that he didn't particularly seem to care which.

She knew that she had no money, that she had nothing but debt and no real prospects to change that.

God, the things she'd seen and read lately. About all kinds of people who had more qualifications than she could ever dream of having, who'd still lost their jobs, their homes, their entire lives.

A few of her friends kept telling her it would all be okay, but they had no real way of knowing that. It was just something to say when you didn't know what else to say, when there was nothing you could really do to help.

And then there was Daniel. Who might be a criminal. Whom she found attractive and thought she might even like but hardly knew.

Of course, in some ways knowing a person was overrated. She'd thought she'd known Tom pretty well. They'd been married for ten years; you'd think you'd know a person after that. She never would have imagined that he'd have done what he did, that he would have lied to her, repeatedly, about everything.

She was just now beginning to think that she understood what had happened. She guessed that it had started with a minor transgression, a small lie, and those little wrongs had fed each other until they'd turned into a monster engorged on its own deceptions, too huge to confess, or to bear.

Dying had been easier for Tom.

Around 5:00
P.M.
she got dressed to go to El Tiburón. She decided on a casual sundress, Kenneth Cole flip-flops, and a Scala raffia hat.

Finally she put on the watch.

She stood in front of the long mirror in her bathroom at Hacienda Carmen and considered.

With this outfit it didn't look bad.

‘Hey – Michelle, right?'

‘Right. And you're … Ned?'

‘Right!'

Ned, whom she'd met that first night with Daniel. ‘Tweaker Ned,' she'd dubbed him. The guy who'd called her on Daniel's iPhone.

She'd arrived at El Tiburón only a minute before he did, had just climbed the three steps off the sand to enter the bar. She hadn't even located the group's table yet before Ned had tugged on her sleeve.

Ned looked at Michelle again, then around the bar. ‘So … uh, you with Danny tonight?'

Sweat plastered his hair to his scalp, formed huge, ragged ovals under his arms. Nothing unusual about that; it was as stifling hot as it had been every day since she'd arrived in Vallarta.

But he'd been wanting to talk to Daniel since the night she'd met him, the night when everything started.

‘He said he might be coming by later,' she said.

‘Did he say when?'

‘He wasn't sure. Have you tried calling?'

‘Yeah, yeah, I called. Kept going straight to voicemail. He's hard to get a hold of sometimes.'

‘Look, I just walked in,' Michelle said. ‘I'm going to get something to drink. Do you want anything, or … ?'

‘Sure. A beer. Thanks!'

‘Okay. Be right back.'

She'd buy Ned his beer. Maybe he'd talk to her. Tell her something about Daniel's actual business. Maybe knowing wouldn't really matter in the end, but it was still better to know, she supposed.

It would be something to tell Gary anyway.

She headed to the bar.

There was Charlie, she remembered him: the wizened survivor with yellowed nicotine fingers and rock-band T-shirt, sitting at the long table that stretched across one side of El Tiburón, facing the beach for the sunset, the same table as last week. Today his T-shirt was Thai, advertising Singha beer.

She bought a Corona for Ned and for herself a glass of white wine, which was sour.

When she returned from the bar, Ned had straddled an empty chair next to Charlie. He reminded Michelle of an elementary-school kid, like he'd just learned how to sit in a classroom but not how to sit still – hands clasped, torso unnaturally stiff, one leg jiggling up and down.

‘Danny's friend,' Charlie said, lifting his hand. ‘And how are you on this lovely evening?'

‘I'm fine, thank you. Michelle,' she reminded him.

‘I actually think I knew that,' Charlie said.

She sat down next to Ned. ‘Corona okay?'

‘Great. Yeah. Thanks.'

He grasped the beer with one hand. Patted his pants pocket with the other.

‘Oh, don't worry about it,' Michelle said.

‘I'll get you next round, then, okay? I'll put it on my tab.' Now he patted his other pants pocket. ‘Thought I heard my phone.'

Michelle rested her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand, the watch pointed at Ned. It was easy to press the button by the stem. Easy to turn and face Charlie and press the button again.

There. She'd done it. She felt a shudder in the pit of her stomach. The kind of fear you felt at the top of a roller coaster. A rush.

‘So how's business?' Charlie asked Ned.

‘Oh, you know, slow this time of year, like everyplace else. But I'm running some great specials. Hey, you should come by. I'm doing two-for-one dinners.'

‘You going to close for the summer?'

‘Yeah. Maybe. I'm not sure.'

Charlie focused on Michelle, squinting a bit into the sunset. ‘So how is Danny? He get out of the hospital all right?'

‘He's fine. Just a couple stitches.'

‘Did they catch those guys?'

‘Not that I know of.'

‘Ah, well. Unfortunately, they hardly ever do.' Charlie paused to light a cigarette, sucking in smoke until he started coughing, and drowned that with a swallow of beer. ‘Thankfully, most of the time you run into trouble here, you have to go looking for it.'

‘I wasn't,' she said. ‘Looking for it.'

Charlie had lifted his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. It paused there, his arm in mid-arc. He put the bottle down.

‘Sorry, my dear, I didn't mean to imply that you were. I just meant that you can't expect too much from the police here. But in the normal course of things, you don't have to. This really is a pretty safe place for foreigners, as long as you're sensible. You've just had a run of bad luck.'

Ned laughed nervously. ‘Yeah. Lady Luck's a bitch, you know?' He sucked down a few more slugs of beer. ‘So do you think Danny's going to come tonight?' he asked Michelle.

He really is a wreck, she thought, watching his leg bounce up and down. He seemed in much worse shape than he had a week before.

What was it that he hoped Daniel could do for him?

‘I think so.'

‘I guess I can wait a little longer,' Ned said, checking his watch.

‘Robberies aside, I hope you're enjoying the town,' Charlie said. ‘I'm guessing you must be, or you wouldn't still be here.'

Oh, yes, I had a lovely visit to the scenic dump yesterday.

Probably not the best answer.

‘Parts of it I'm enjoying a lot,' she said.

‘Danny's an entertaining guy.'

Did everyone know everybody else's business here?

She didn't hide her irritation well, apparently, because Charlie suddenly grimaced. ‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I guess I should've warned you, gossip is the town sport.'

‘You must be a mindreader.'

‘No, just an aging drunk with a tactless streak.'

Michelle laughed. She was starting to like him, nicotine stains and all.

‘We've only been out on a couple of dates,' she said, ‘but aside from, you know, the armed robbery, it's been fun.'

‘He really is an interesting fellow,' Charlie said. ‘Seems to have his fingers in a lot of things.'

His tone was deliberately noncommittal, she thought, or was she reading too much into it?

‘I don't know him that well, actually,' she said, leaning forward a little. Act like you're confiding in him, she told herself. If gossip was the town sport, Charlie had to be a player. ‘I don't really know that much about what he does.'

‘Ned knows him better than I do,' Charlie said. ‘Right, Ned?'

‘We hang out sometimes.' Ned sounded proud saying that. Like the high-school loser who every once in a while got to sit at the lunch table with the quarterback.

‘What is it you need to talk to him about?' she asked. ‘Is there something I can tell him for you? In case you miss each other tonight?'

He flinched, like a startled cat. ‘It's just some … some business stuff. You know.'

Charlie wheezed out a chuckle. ‘Hiring a private jet, Neddy? You're moving up in the world.'

‘Hah. No. But he … you know, does some consulting and stuff.'

What was it María had said?

Transportation and … logistical arrangements.

‘I'm going to get another beer,' Ned said. ‘You guys want anything?'

She'd barely touched her wine. ‘Not yet, thanks.'

‘Ah, Ned,' Charlie said with an exaggerated sigh, watching him make his way to the bar.

‘He seems a little nervous.'

Charlie snorted. ‘It's his nature. He's perpetually in over his head.' He took another long pull on his beer. He had startlingly blue eyes, Michelle noticed. He must have been attractive once. She could still see it when he smiled.

‘A restaurant's a hard business to make work,' she said.

‘That it is.'

‘Hopefully, Danny can help him out,' she said, watching him.

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. ‘Let's hope.'

She waited for him to say something else.

‘Speaking of,' he said, glancing toward the beach.

She could just make out Daniel coming up from the shoreline, silhouetted against the last rays of the sun.

‘Hey,' he said, sliding into the chair next to her.

‘Hey yourself.' They stared at each other a moment. She found herself smiling.

He leaned in, and they kissed briefly, just long enough for her to want more.

Okay, so you're attracted to him, she thought. She already knew that. She had been since she'd met him.

Just don't turn it into anything else.

‘How was the sunset?' he asked Charlie.

‘Oh, fair to middling,' Charlie said. ‘I'd give it a seven.'

‘Sorry I missed it.'

‘There'll be another one tomorrow, most likely. You're feeling all right, I take it?'

Daniel touched the square of bandage on his forehead. ‘Oh, yeah. No big. Already got the stitches out.'

‘Hey, Danny!'

Ned had returned from the bar, a beer in hand.

She could feel the weight of the watch on her wrist.

‘Man, I'm so glad I caught you.'

I have to, she thought. This was the kind of thing Gary would want to know about. Wasn't it?

‘Hey, Ned,' Daniel said. He didn't try to keep the irritation from his voice.

‘You want a drink? I'm buying.'

Daniel made a show of checking his watch. ‘Wow, and happy hour's even over. Sure. I'll take a beer.'

Ned handed him the one he'd just bought. ‘Here. Take this one. Get you caught up.' He laughed, and it sounded desperate. Michelle was starting to feel sorry for him.

‘Thanks.'

Ned pulled the chair that he'd vacated over to Daniel's side and sat.

She pushed the button. This time the rush was definitely nausea.

‘So there's this deal I was wondering if I could talk to you about.'

Daniel let out a hard sigh. ‘Ned, I'm pretty busy right now, and I'm not looking to get involved in anything else.'

‘No, that's not …' Ned perched on the edge of his chair, leg jumping. ‘I mean, I just need some advice. Because, you know, I've got this thing going on, this little sort of side thing, you know? And the situation is, these new guys—'

‘This isn't a good time.'

‘But the thing is—'

‘Do you not get English?'