Dirty Money (21 page)

“Why would I?” Christopher asked.

“What fucking decade is this that I have to tell you that being out is always better than the closet?” I asked. Was this dude for real?

“And who would it have helped?”

“Seriously? You, for one. And Reese, and me, and Aus. It might have been nice when we were all coming out. Reese might have wanted someone to tell her that it didn’t matter. That it was okay.”

“Oh, please. You guys had Carson’s dads. And it wasn’t like you confided in me. Reese hardly talked to me after she turned thirteen.” Suddenly, Christopher seemed angry. “Do you know she never even came out to me? Never. I had to find out from your mother. Do you know how horrible that conversation was for me? I had raised the kid and someone else had to tell me she was a lesbian. I’ve never felt like more of a failure than I did that day.”

“You were a failure. Maybe if you weren’t, she would have told you,” I said.

“Please, I wasn’t that bad. Not bad enough that she couldn’t tell me something that important.”

“Right. Like the time that math teacher refused to speak to her once he found out Reese was a dyke. And you refused to even go to the school. My dad had to go meet with the principal. So don’t fuckin’ talk to me about that shit.”

I had thought my anger with Christopher was contained. Something that fit in a neat corner of my brain. Only dusted off when needed. But I realized in that moment that it was a living, cancerous mass. Something capable of sudden growth and debilitating resurgence.

“And what was I supposed to do?” Christopher asked. “Tell Reese that I’m gay, but I abandoned my entire life to live in a shell of a heteronormative marriage? That maybe I could have made a difference for her, but instead I took the money and hid? Would that have been a rousing endorsement?”

And that was when I realized my hatred of him wasn’t even a shadow of his self-loathing. There was no need to hate him. He was doing it all for me.

We sat there and stared at each other. Separated by a critical generation. His had been tasked with building a safe world for mine. And I had squandered every luxury they had given me.

Our desperate breathing was the only sound.

“Nothing can be gained from this,” Breno said quietly.

“Really? And what are we trying to gain here? You decided to save your own ass and abandon your children.” I glared at Breno. “And you abandoned the twins emotionally.” I glared at Christopher. “I can’t see anything that will fix that.”

“There is more to the story,” Breno said.

“Please, enlighten me.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be long-term.” Breno.

“Marriage was the short-term solution?” I asked.

“Yes. We thought I would be able to get Carissa and the twins out of the country where Breno could meet up with us. All we had to do was get married,” Christopher said.

“That doesn’t make sense. Didn’t her dad know that you guys were BFFs?”

Both men smiled. Actually, Christopher’s was more of a grimace. His jaw tightened. Breno’s was an angry smile.

“I offered to kill Breno to prove my loyalty. That’s what convinced him,” Christopher said.

“Looks alive to me.”

“We faked it. Very well,” Breno said.

“You faked it?”

Christopher didn’t say anything for a long time. When he began to speak he looked into my eyes with such intensity I thought he might burn me.

“I knew someone would follow me to make sure I followed through. I took him out on my boat. Beat him. With a piece of pipe. The sound it made against his body. It was…so loud. There was blood everywhere. On my clothes and hands. My face. The deck was covered.”

I expected him to look away. Maybe study his hands to find the evidence. But he didn’t. He just stared at me.

“It’s all right.” Breno reached across the table to squeeze Christopher’s shoulder. “I can tell the rest.”

“No.” Christopher’s eyes snapped away from mine. Only for a moment. “I shot him in the head, tied cement blocks to his feet, and dumped him into the water.”

“Christopher, stop,” Breno said. “You didn’t shoot me in the head. You shot very near to my head.” Breno turned to me. “We had a plan. We executed the plan. It worked very well. From the other boat, it appeared that I was dead. But as soon as Christopher pushed me into the water, I cut away the blocks and swam to the bow of his boat. By the time we arrived back at the dock, I was hidden below the deck. Within the week, I was in Canada and Carissa and Christopher were married.”

“Look. I get that it was hard for you guys. I’m not exactly sure why. You both survived just fine.” I didn’t want to sound like an ass, but it was inevitable. “But at what point did you decide to scrap the plan and fuck the twins over?”

“Jesus, Vivian.” Christopher looked like I had slapped him. “What the hell do you want to hear?”

“Something that would justify your behavior.” I turned to Breno. “Do you know what it was like for them growing up? The shit he put them through? There were weeks at a time where he refused to look at either of them. Birthdays he ignored. First days of school where he left them at the bus stop. After Carissa was gone, he didn’t do Christmas. Just wrote my mom a check and asked her to take care of it. And, of course, the whole stealing their money and disappearing.”

“I knew,” was all Breno said.

“You knew? You fucking knew and just let it go?”

“I was watching.”

I felt something cruel bubble up inside me. A hatred for these men. “And when he hit Reese.” Breno jerked in his seat. “Did you watch that? Did you see her face when it was bruised and bleeding? Or the stitches? Where the hell were you then?”

“You hit my child?” Breno slowly stood and leaned over Christopher. “You hit my baby girl?” he whispered, but it was deafening.

“She was going to fuck up the plan,” Christopher said. “She did fuck up the plan. I should have tied her ass up the second she got back from school. And you…” He looked at me. “You couldn’t keep it in your goddamn pants, could you? You just had to pick up that idiotic girl and get your ass kicked. None of this would have happened if not for you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Christopher stood and stalked out of the room. I followed him.

“Come back here, you bastard. Explain.”

He ignored me. We went up the stairs into his office. He went to the wall where the gold had been hidden, stared at it, the ceiling, the floor, counted softly as he touched different points on the wall, then punched it.

“You’re psychotic, you know that?”

Still no response. He pulled away chunks of the wall, shoved his hand inside and pulled out a plastic bag.

“Here.” He shoved it at me.

Then he walked away. I heard his steps echo on the stairs and the scrape of a chair as he sat back down in the kitchen.

I opened the bag. White dust powdered my hands. Inside were three passports. The names didn’t match, but there was one for Christopher, Reese, and Ryan. And I had no clue what the hell it all meant.

When I returned to the kitchen, both men were pointedly staring in opposite directions.

“Explain.”

Breno was the first to speak. “Carissa was the one who decided not to leave the country. She said I was finally safe and she refused to lead her father back to me.”

“That’s nice. She’s dead. Blame her.”

“We are all to blame,” he said. “We shouldn’t have listened to her. But she was adamant. When she died, we couldn’t just pull the kids away from everything they knew. They were in school. They were safe. The don was keeping his distance. They had everything she ever wanted for them.”

“Except parents.”

“I’m sorry.” Christopher finally spoke. “I thought I could do it. I thought I could be everything for them. And I was a good father. Once.”

It is strange how we choose what to remember. It was easier to remember things that made me hate Christopher.

It took me a moment, but I dredged up the few memories I had before Carissa died. I remembered Christopher in their pool helping with swim lessons. And the only birthday party he’d ever thrown for the kids. Their eighth birthday. Reese liked Starburst. Ryan liked Snickers. Reese hated Snickers. Ryan hated Starburst. So Christopher did two piñatas. It was a simple solution, but for seven-year-olds, it had been genius.

I hadn’t thought of that in years. I remembered him quizzing me on my multiplication because someone at school told me girls couldn’t do math. When Christopher picked us up from school that day…my God, Christopher used to pick us up from school. When he picked us up, I was crying. I told him I couldn’t learn math because I was a girl. So he taught me multiplication even though the rest of the class was still doing subtraction.

I didn’t like him reminding me that we had once loved him.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“I found myself raising two children who looked identical to my two best friends. That’s why I couldn’t look at them or speak to them or…I tried, but it was just a reminder. They were living, breathing, needy little reminders who I had to face every day. I tried, but I couldn’t do it anymore, Cooper. ”

I couldn’t remember him ever using my real name. It hit me hard.

“Do you know where Reese spent large pieces of last year?” Breno asked me.

I hesitated. “Yale.”

“When she wasn’t at school.”

“Working with Vito.” It hung heavy in the air.

“We were going to wait until they finished school, but after that, we couldn’t. Christopher and I decided it was time for everyone to disappear,” Breno said.

“Carissa only asked for one thing. She didn’t want her children to be affiliated with the DiGiovannis,” Christopher elaborated.

“So you emptied the accounts and got passports.”

“Yes.”

“Why gold bars? Those things are a bitch to move.”

“I have a friend, an artist. He was going to melt them down and put the gold in statues. The statues could be shipped wherever we wanted. Still a paper trail, but not the kind the don and his men would look for.”

“That’s stupid,” I said.

“Yes, but shipping containers aren’t scrutinized the same way. And art isn’t questioned much.”

“Damn, dude. You are gay.”

Breno smirked. “He’s right though.”

“And it would have worked. But you stole it and now the gold is gone,” Christopher said.

“Not entirely.” They both stared at me. “Half of it is buried six feet under just outside Vegas.”

They both started shouting, but Breno wasn’t speaking English, and after a few choice expletives, neither was Christopher. At least they sounded happy.

“Besides, I thought you stole the other half in Mexico.”

Christopher hung his head. “No, that cunt I hired to keep you away from the twins fucked me over.”

“You hired Joan?” Of course he hired her. “Douche bag.”

“I know. She was just supposed to distract you so we could get the kids and get out. Instead she took the gold.”

“And fucked me over with those pictures.”

“What pictures?”

“The one of us kissing that you sent to Reese.”

Christopher stared at me blankly. “I never sent any pictures. I just told her to watch you guys and then hit on you, maybe take you back to her hotel room.”

“Then that bitch fucked us both over.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Reese probably won’t ever speak to me again.”

They both looked at me. Breno was curious, trying to figure it out. Christopher got there first.

“You hooked up with Reese.” It wasn’t a question.

Breno didn’t look happy. Actually, he looked a little like Ryan when he figured it out. “You touched my daughter?” There’s never a good way to answer a girl’s father when he asks that question. “You touched my baby girl? I’ll kill you.”

“Whoa.” Christopher stood up. “That’s probably not necessary.”

“She broke my baby’s heart,” Breno said.

“Hey, she broke my heart.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re a slut. Christopher told me you were.”

“Fuck you. Both of you. And how do you know I’m a slut?” Something Christopher said before worked its way back into my head. “How did you know about the girl and the fight?”

“There are cameras in my office. All over the house, really.”

“Oh.”

“I was surprised when you took the rap for the scotch, by the way.”

“Umm.”

“I let it go because it was actually your birthday present.”

“Huh?”

“You were about to turn twenty-one. I bought the scotch for you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“What are you two talking about?” Breno asked. “And why does this matter? We are discussing my little girl’s virtue here.”

“Actually, you were discussing mine, asshole. And don’t delude yourself. She seduced me. So I didn’t exactly take your daughter’s chastity. It was gone when I got there.” Wrong thing to say. Way wrong thing to say.

Breno was back to non-English yelling. And this time he was trying to jump across the table and strangle me. Christopher held him back.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. That was uncool.” Breno didn’t look pacified, but at least he stopped struggling with Christopher. “I didn’t mean that. Sorry.” Repetition of that point seemed to be good. “Can we not talk about Reese?”

“That’s probably for the best,” Christopher said. “Though, for the record, I’m happy. I like you more than any of her other girlfriends I’ve met. I’m sorry if I contributed to your demise.”

“Thanks, but it was my fault.”

“You cannot just forgive her,” Breno said.

“Don’t worry. Cooper is one of the good ones.” What an odd thing for Christopher to say.

“Let’s move on. There’s a dude upstairs who was sent here to kill you. We need a game plan.”

“Oh, that,” Christopher said.

“Yeah, that. I’m wondering about a couple things. Like, why did you come back here? You have to know they want to kill you. And also, why was Breno tied up?”

They smiled like they were in on an awesome joke.

“I came back because they want to kill me. And Breno was tied up because they want to kill me.” Christopher wasn’t good at explaining things.