Page 59 of Cunning Lies
“Stay here for a second,” he says. “I’ll tell you when.”
I fiddle with my outfit, impatient that I can’t even dump garbage bags with him, but I’m not going to argue about work with a yakuza gangster.
Not many cars pass on the highway, and those that do, probably can’t see us from back here on the gravel road. It’s dead silent, and I feel like I’m breathing too loud. Kenzo must have noticed the silence too, because he starts humming to himself as he rips open those bags.
Something wet and heavy sloshes into the fire pit. My stomach curdles. I don’t want to know what it is, but I do. It’s a body. And I’m pretty sure I knowwhoit is.
Ten minutes go by. Then twenty.
Fire cackles to life, burning behind me. I spin around. The flame lights Kenzo’s dark eyes, and I wrap an arm around my stomach.
“Are you allowed to light fires out here?” I ask hesitantly.
“If I’m not, I know the sheriff,” he says. “I think there’s something about ‘personal’ fires in Nevada law.” He lifts his shoulders. “This is personal.”
“I thought you said this was about work.”
“Same thing to me, baby.”
He puts an arm around me, and guilt fills me up. It’s Patrick’s body burning in the pit in front of us, and I should be crying. I should feel bitter. I should hate Kenzo for what he did. Patrick may have done some terrible things to me, but he was still my adoptive brother, and I feel like garbage.
But I feel like garbage because I don’t miss him at all. If anything, I’m worried about Uncle Jay, but that’s it.
Kenzo pulls me in closer. I should be afraid. He killed my adoptive brother for something that happened to me years ago, and yet, I’m not afraid.
Elation. Safety. Comfort.That’swhat I feel.
Those feelings simmer inside of me as the scent of charred flesh floats through the air. It should be disgusting, but it’s not. I’m secretly relieved. Patrick was always one step away from offering a date with me to his ‘friends,’ using that as a threat to get me to do exactly what he wanted.
But I can’t think about him anymore. I need to protect Uncle Jay. Maybe, once this job is over, we can really retire and find our dream house on the beach. Our home.
Home.
I look up at Kenzo, and I realize that I’m going to be sad when this is over. He’s always acted like there was an expiration date on our marriage, but since he made me promise not to have sex with anyone else, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s starting to question that supposedly bleak future too. Maybe I don’t want it to be over. Maybe he doesn’t either.
Uncle Jay always looks out for me, but he could never domuchabout Patrick since he was his kid too. But Kenzo immediately made sure that Patrick would never hurt me again.
Maybe that’s the difference between us. Con artists are delicate with their negotiations, so that everyone believes they’ve won, even if it’s a small, simple win.
Yakuza men don’t care. They know what they want, and they’re determined to get it, by any means necessary.
“Have you always been part of the yakuza?” I ask.
Kenzo keeps his eyes on the flames. “I met Tomo when I was twelve.”
I nod, wondering what twelve-year-old Kenzo would have been like. Was he scared, like I was at six years old, knowing Uncle Jay was my new guardian? Or did Kenzo not care about anything? Did he think Tomo was cool?
The fire dances before us, and there’s a certain beauty to it. Freedom and gratitude bubble in my chest, but guilt is there too.I don’t deserve this,I want to say to Kenzo.I’m the last person you should be helping. I don’t deserve you.
But I can’t make myself say it. Instead, I say, “You didn’t have to kill him for me.”
“Actually, I did,” he says. “I’m not going to apologize for what I did, Vi. He hurt you, and I refused to let that go.”
His words are so final that I know I’m never going to win this argument. It doesn’t matter if I’m fighting for my late cousin’s life, or if I’m arguing because I don’t deserve Kenzo’s loyalty. Kenzo is confident in his actions. He doesn’t regret anything.
Because he always puts me above everything else.
“If it weren’t for this yakuza stuff,” I say, “I think I could actually trust you.”
