Page 40 of I Need You to Read This
The woman gestures at Alex and Janice with the squeegee. “Who are your friends? Do they know what you did to Armond, to our family?”
Raymond looks helpless. “Please. I need you to know I never meant any of that to happen.”
But she is having none of it. She advances on him. “Bullshit,” she says, her delicate face screwing up into a venomous rage. “You’re a disgrace.”
“I’m sorry, Evelyn.” Raymond’s voice is hoarse. “You know I loved him.”
She scoffs at this, waving the squeegee. The edge of it shakes in her hand as she points it toward the loose skin of his neck. “Then why did you let him die?” Her voice is a blade dropping through the air.
Raymond has gone pale. His mouth opens and closes. “Let’s get out of here,” he mutters, backing away.
“Oh yeah, run away. Just like you always do. You coward!” she shouts. He retreats, eyes watering as she bears down on him, a tiny woman with a squeegee but she has put the fear of God into Raymond. It is easy to see in his face. This doesn’t faze the woman, who continues toward him muttering what Alex is sure are obscenities under her breath. Alex and Janice watch dumbstruck as Raymond’s foot comes up against a potted palm, and he stumbles backward, his hands flailing, fingers grasping at the air behind him. He falls hard onto his back on the carpet.
“Raymond!” Alex yells, fearing she’s let this go on for too long. She dashes to her friend who is lying there, pale and winded, on the hallway carpeting.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Ray, come on. It’s okay,” Janice whispers as they pull Raymond to his feet.
Evelyn watches them, her face a mask of anger. She is over heroutburst. Her tiny chest rises and falls. It reminds Alex of an injured bird’s. “Run away, you coward. That’s what you do best.”
Grief will make a person do desperate things, Alex thinks, watching the woman’s chin tremble. The loss of someone you love can transform you into something else entirely, someone you don’t even recognize.
“Don’t you come back here,” Evelyn yells at their backs. “You’re not welcome.”
They move through the maze of the hotel, Janice leading them into a large dark conference room. Raymond looks on the verge of tears. “How do I get out of this damn place?” he cries out.
“I don’t know, this is a different way than we came in.” Janice is doubled over from the exertion, her hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Alex can feel them starting to unravel. She realizes that she has to seize control of the situation before everyone loses it.
“This way,” Alex says, spotting a fire door. She pushes through it, bringing them onto a metal stairwell. They clamber down it. Alex’s knees shake as they descend. Finally, they burst outside. They are in some kind of short alleyway, standing on the edge of a loading dock. They gulp in the hot nighttime air.
“Who was that?” Janice explodes as soon as they are on the street. But Raymond doesn’t stop to rest. Grunting with effort, he lowers himself off the edge, dropping down into the street. He takes off at a fast pace, stumbling away from the hotel as fast as he can. Janice and Alex leap onto the pavement behind him, scampering to keep up. He ducks onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel and walks quickly to the curb, glancing back anxiously at the hotel’s gleaming entrance. Alex glances back too. There is no sign that anyone’s followed them out.
“You okay, Ray?” she asks. In all these years, she’s never seen Raymond this out of sorts. She doesn’t ask him what she really wants to know, which is what happened to Armond.
Raymond doesn’t answer her. He steps off the curb, his hand shaking violently as he raises it out into traffic.
THIRTY-FOUR
They are introspective as the taxi crawls its way uptown. This whole expedition was a waste, Alex realizes, feeling heavy. She is no closer to figuring out what happened with Francis, nor does she have a clue who wrote the threatening note. All she has managed to do is traumatize everyone around her. And for what?
Alex is beginning to think that there is no logical order to any of it. It is quite possible that everything happening is completely random. What if, instead of it being a premeditated murder, Francis was in the wrong place at the wrong time, stabbed by someone who happened to be passing by her house with a random urge to kill someone? As for the letters, they were vague enough that really anyone could have written them. Maybe this is all just a distraction, a way for her to avoid thinking about her own failings.
She gives Raymond a concerned glance. He hasn’t spoken a word since leaving the hotel. His eyes look hollow. They pass by the billboards of Times Square. Alex watches the colored lights hitting the origami-fold planes of his face. The taxi stops at a light, and a mass of people swarm the car as they cross Broadway.
“Look at this hellscape,” Janice mutters, dabbing at her forehead with a monogrammed napkin from the Nest as they pass by rows of bad pizza shops and brightly lit stores selling touristy T-shirts andplaster replicas of the Statue of Liberty. “No self-respecting New Yorker would ever.”
They make a right, heading east across town. The foot traffic starts to thin out as they pass Lexington, cutting uptown on Third Avenue.
“Stop the car,” Raymond barks suddenly to the driver. “Right here. Pull over. That’s it.” The taxi swerves to a stop next to a low brick building covered in scaffolding. Raymond thrusts the fare at the driver and fumbles to pull the car door open. Alex thinks that he is going to leave them there, but he stops and peers back at them, gripping the edge of the car door.
“You coming?” he asks gruffly. Alex looks at Janice. She nods, and they scoot out of the back seat. It isn’t until they are out of the cab that Alex sees the subterranean dive bar peeking out over the sidewalk. A neon sign for Budweiser shines out from a clouded window at shin level. They follow Raymond down a short set of steps into the partially submerged first floor of a dilapidated brick building.ATTILA’S BARreads the rusted black lettering above the frosted-glass door.
Raymond hustles down the steps, into the bar. Alex and Janice follow him. Alex glances back at the steps as she pushes through the door.
The place is small, a low-ceilinged box with a small bar to the right and a pool table in back. The yellow lighting is not there to do anyone any favors, Alex thinks, looking around at the weathered assortment of characters who inhabit the place. All of whom turn to look as the three of them make their way to the bar.
“Are those people actually smoking?” Janice hisses at her. “So retro.” Alex glances around at a large bald man in a leather vest who holds a fat cigar glowing between his fingers. The man gives her a glare and she turns away quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble for them.
