Evan Arden 05 Irrevocable (24 page)

There is definitely something different about Alina.  I can’t deny that.  She seemed to get me from the first night we spent together.  When other hookers refused to have anything to do with me after a single night, Alina kept coming back.

“Because she already knew who you were.”

Did she?  Yes, I found that picture in a box of things that were obviously left from her childhood, but did she know the men in the picture, or did her father happen across the photos and just throw them in there with the other junk?

I toss some utensils from a box into a drawer, and I’m reminded of yard sales again.  Mother Superior used to haul the kids to them in pairs during the summer, looking for toys and games for us without spending much.  She’d be dressed in her full habit, and half the time, people would give her the shit for free.

I think she did it on purpose.

I finish transitioning my stuff and give the key to the old place back to the building super.  Sitting in the new place feels strange, and I find myself just staring out the window.  I’m on a higher floor now, and the view of the city is really beautiful as the sun sets, and the Magnificent Mile is awash in brightly colored lights.  It reminds me of the view I had in the old place down the block, and I almost turn around to look for Odin.

Alina will be here tomorrow, and I need to get some actual food into the apartment, so I do a little shopping.  I stock the pantry and the refrigerator with anything and everything I think she might want.  I even buy fucking tampons and some bubble bath to put in the bathroom.  This place comes with a tub; the other only has a shower stall.

With everything as set in place as it can be, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare into space.  Ralph sits on the floor near the doorway, unmoving in the silence.  He must be waiting for her, too.

I don’t know what to do with myself.  I thought the move would take longer than it did, and though I probably ought to be digging into Beni and his relationship with Joshua Taylor, I’m far too preoccupied with the whole photograph thing.

There’s nothing I can do but wonder until Alina is here to ask, so I try to push it to the back of my mind.  Unfortunately, that only brings thoughts of Rinaldo to the forefront, which is even worse.  I opt for television because I know sleep isn’t going to happen, but after twenty minutes of channel surfing, I turn it off.

With nothing else to occupy me, I start going over my mental list of Rinaldo’s tasks.  The accounts he wants set up are all but complete.  I just need to get access to the right people, and they’ll be done.  Jonathan can handle that.  He still thinks I’m looking into Felisa’s death, but there isn’t anything for me to actually investigate there.  I may just turn that over to Paulie as a security issue and let him go kill off whoever he wants to nail with the deed.  It’s not like he would ever figure it out anyway.

What else did Rinaldo want me to do?

“You should call him.”  Ralph swings his legs at he sits on the kitchen island.

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out just what he meant.  Then I realize he isn’t making a suggestion—he’s reminding me of what Rinaldo said.

I pull up my laptop and do some minimal research.  Jonathan has me connected to all kinds of skip-tracing databanks, and finding a phone number for Sebastian Stark isn’t difficult.  Typing it into my phone and hitting send prove to be a little more challenging.

What do I say to him?  Do I ask him how he’s doing first or just come right out and tell him we share a father?  He doesn’t even know who his parents are.  He may not even believe me.  The last time we were together, we were ready to kill each other.

I sit on the couch with my finger hovering over the button for a good five minutes while I try to figure out what to say.  Nothing good comes to mind, so I just hit the button and hold my breath.

“Yeah?”  I recognize his voice when he answers.  With my eyes closed, I respond.

“Hello, Bastian,” I say.  “This is Evan Arden.”

“Fuck me,” he mutters.  “Give me a sec.”

I can hear movement and muffled words on the other end of the line, then silence.  A moment later, he speaks again.

“Why are you calling me?”  He’s angry, and I’m not quite prepared for that.

“Just checking up on you,” I say.  I shake my head at my own stupid words.  I open a window, grab a smoke out of my duffel bag, and light it.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he says.  “You can’t be calling me.  Someone will figure it all out.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say.  “Seattle is in shambles.  No one gives a shit about Franks anymore.”

“Someone might.  We aren’t supposed to be taking any risks.”

“I…I have some information for you,” I tell him.  I need to get him off his current line of thinking before he hangs up on me.  “Something I thought you’d want to know.”

There’s a long pause before he tells me to go on.

“I have a guy who’s really good at research,” I say.  “He did some checking into you, into your background.”

“Yeah?  And?”

“And he found something I thought I should share.  It has to do with your father.”

“My father?  I don’t even know who the guy is.”

“I know who he is.  Well, who he was.”

“Go on.”

“His name was Alexander Janez.”

“But he’s dead, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yeah, he’s dead now.  Buried in Ohio.”

“What exactly am I supposed to do with this information?”

“There’s a little more to it,” I say.  I take a deep breath.  “You see, Janez was my father, too.”

The silence on the other end lasts far too long.  For a moment, I think he’s hung up on me, but my phone says we’re still connected.

“Bastian?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“When did you find this out?”

I consider telling him the truth but decide against it.  It might be easier for him to accept it if I don’t reveal that I had known about our relationship the whole time we were fighting for our lives.

“Just recently.”  The phrase is innocuous enough.  “I didn’t know what you’d think.  I wasn’t sure if I should tell you at all, but Rinaldo thought it was a good idea.”

“Holy fuck.  You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“It kinda makes sense,” Bastian says.  “The timing is about right.  You were born in Chicago, too?”

“I was.”

“Did…did he raise you?”

“No,” I say.  “I don’t think he was interested in parenting.  Hell, we could have a dozen siblings out there.”

“Fuck.  You really think so?”

“I don’t have any idea.”

“What about…what about my mother?”

“I have her name,” I tell him, “but that’s it.  I can give you the information, but I don’t know anything else about her.  Your mother is not the same as mine.”

“Half brothers,” Bastian says quietly.  “I don’t know what the fuck to think.”

The man does like his f-bombs.

“Are you good with this?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Bastian replies.  “Yeah, I’m good with it.  It’s going to take a little time to get used to the idea.”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you told me.  I don’t know what this means, but it’s good to know.”

“I’ve never had someone I could call family,” I say with a chuckle.  “It’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah.”  Bastian laughs, too.  “It is weird.  We probably have the market cornered on sibling rivalry.”

“Hey, I didn’t kill ya.”

“You mean
I
didn’t kill
you
.”

“Maybe next time.”  We both laugh.

“Look,” Bastian says, “I’m out with Raine and some friends of hers from work.  She’s gonna start looking for me if I don’t get back in there.”

“That’s okay,” I say.  “We can talk some more another time.”

“Yeah.  I think that would be good.”

“Later, then.”

“Later.”

I disconnect the call, feeling pretty good about the whole thing.  Bastian knows all about it now, and I’ve managed to kill some time.  I toss the phone onto the counter and head off to take a shower.  Afterwards, I rearrange shit in the kitchen and refold all my clothes.  It’s two in the morning, the bars are closed, and I have nothing to do.  With my head full of Zach and Bastian, I go back to staring at the ceiling until the sun brightens the windows.

*****

“I still can’t believe you actually changed apartments.”

I just shrug like it’s no big deal.  It wasn’t, but I can tell from Alina’s expression that she’s pleased, and that definitely counts for something.

“I didn’t know what all you’d be bringing,” I say, “so I figured it would be best to make sure there was room.”

“You went to a lot of trouble.”  Alina steps up and kisses my cheek.  “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”  I watch her backside as she carries a small suitcase into her room.

“I doubt this bed will get much use!” she yells.

“Hope not!” I yell back.  “Hey, I bought actual food, too!”

“Fabulous!”

Alina gets settled in while I start making one of Lele’s pasta sauce recipes.  If I’m going to make an impression, it’s going to be a good one.  The smell of basil and oregano has filled the kitchen by the time Alina finishes unpacking.

“That smells incredible.”

“Old family secret,” I say with a wink.

“Hmm…will you have to kill me if I figure it out?”

I glance over to her, surprised she’d make such a joke, but she’s smiling, so I smile back.

“Something like that.”

“I’ll set the table.”

We eat.  We chat about nothing in particular.  We do the dishes, and we go to bed.  I consider bringing up the picture about a hundred times during the course of the evening, but I don’t.  I want to make sure the timing is right.  I don’t want to push my luck.  I hold her and slowly fuck her, taking my time and making sure she’s well satisfied before I enjoy my own release.  When we’re done, I hold on to her and inhale the sweet scent of lavender.

The next day is Sunday, and we sleep in.

It’s not like I keep any kind of regular work hours—quite the contrary—but there must be some Catholic boy thing left inside of me that’s always reserved Sundays for relaxing and doing nothing.  Alina seems to be of a similar mindset and isn’t bothered by my lack of motivation.  We discuss the possibility of going out later in the week but spend the morning and afternoon just watching romantic comedies on Netflix and eating leftover pasta.

She’s been here a full twenty-four hours, and I can’t wait any longer.

Excusing myself for a moment, I go into the bedroom and get the pictures.  I stare at them for a moment before returning to the couch.  I place the picture of Zach and me together on the coffee table in front of her and sit back as she picks it up and looks at it.  She presses her lips together, and there’s a tear in the corner of her eye.

There is no surprise in her expression.  This isn’t the first time she’s seen the picture.

“Where did you find this?” she asks quietly.

“The question is, where did
you
find it?”

Tracing the edge of the picture with the tip of her finger, she takes a deep breath and lets it out again.

“Zach was my neighbor.”

I blink a couple of times as Alina looks off into the distance.  Zach was from Harwood Heights, not Oak Park.  Of course, her father could have moved during that time.

“He was a few years older than me,” she says, “but he was always really nice to me.  He talked to me about school and how important getting an education was.  He planned to go to college for engineering so he could take care of his parents and never have to worry about money again.  I think he was the only boy I knew who wasn’t paying my father…”

Her voice trails off and she clears her throat.

“I guess I had a crush on him.”  She chuckles softly.  “I don’t know if he realized that or not, but I did.  I think he was seventeen when I was eleven.  He left for the Marines right out of high school, and I was really upset that he was going.  When he left, he promised to write to me all the time, and he did.”

“You knew me,” I say, suddenly putting it together.  “That very first time I picked you up, you already knew who I was and not because of my reputation on the street.”

“I did.”  She nods.  “Zach told me everything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t see any reason to,” she says as she leans back on the cushions.  “I understand why you don’t want to talk about what happened over there, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was pushing you to give me information.  I already knew enough.”

“What did you know?”

“Zach told me about a lot of the guys in his unit but mostly about you,” Alina says.  “He told me you were the best marksman he’d ever seen in his life and how proud he was to be your spotter.  He talked about how protective you were of your unit and how often you were there helping out the other guys when they needed it.  He said everyone looked up to you, even the officers, and you were just a corporal.”