Page 41 of Dearly Betrayed

“Fallie,” he says and he sounds sorry about it at least. “You know I hate that it’s like this.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Tell the girls I miss them, would you? I’ll tell them myself eventually, I’m just not sure when I’ll be up for calling all the cousins and such.”

“Take your time. They all know what you’re going through and we’re all thinking about you.”

“I’m sure.” But I don’t add: how long will that thinking last? How long until they forget that I’m alive because I’m stuck over here in America? A year or even less? I could be home by then, but when I get there, will anyone care?

He goes on to talk about the family, all the uncles and aunts, the soldiers and their friends. All the stupid dramatic clan shit, the gossip and infighting, everything he’s got to deal with. I don’t envy him at all—Rian’s dealing with almost as much trouble as I’m fighting through, even though he gets to be home while it all goes down.

“I used to dream about taking over after Papa passed,” he admits softly, and I hear the clink of ice in a glass. Which means it must be sometime in the evening over there. Rian’s a lot of things, but someone who drinks before five in the afternoon isn’t one of them. I admire my brother’s self-restraint.

“Did it ever look like this?” I ask.

“Not once, not ever. I figured Papa would pass one night in his old age after weeks of saying goodbye and laying his final plans. I assumed I’d know what to do. Instead, I’m groping around, struggling to hold the whole thing together, and dealing with the Costa nightmare. You don’t understand how much it means to me what you’re doing.”

“I’m sure.” I clear my throat. More guilt hits me then. When I hurt Jayson, will it blow back onto Rian? Will I make my brother’s life harder? “I have to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?” He’s on alert now. My tone must’ve tipped him.

“It’s fine, Chim, I really am fine. But it’s about that plan I mentioned.”

He’s quiet for a few beats. “You’re still going through with that?” He sounds skeptical. Not that I can blame him. I keep pushing the slot button while peering around to make sure nobody can hear. There’s only one old woman, smoking away, not paying attention to anything but the lights in front of her.

“I found documents in our flat. A bunch of them hidden away in a locked room. I made copies.”

Another silence. This one painful. Why’s he not cheering? Doesn’t he know what I went through to get this stuff?

“That’s dangerous,” he says. “Are you being safe?”

“Safe as I can. The originals are back and there’s no way he’ll know I accessed anything. The copies are hidden away.”

“Don’t tell me where. You shouldn’t even be talking about this on the phone. Did they give you the device?”

Paranoia rubs at the back of my neck. “It’s fine. There’s no reason to monitor me.”

“Fallie, come on, there’s a million reasons to monitor you.” He sighs and I hear the ice rattle again. “Alright, look, sit on the documents, okay? I know you probably want to put it all to use right away but hang tight. We’ll wait for a good opportunity.”

“When’s that going to happen? I could mail them out to you tomorrow. You can give them to our people and let the big brains figure out what they all mean. I’ve only scratched the surface too, there’s a lot more?—”

“Don’t,” he says, a little too hard. “Just hold off, okay?”

“What aren’t you telling me, Chim?”

“I’m telling you to wait. This thing with the Costas is too new. I don’t want you doing anything to blow it up, not yet anyway. Wait until we’re integrated more.”

“Wait how long? A few weeks? A few months? It could be ten years before you finally tell me to pull the trigger. He killed our father.”

“I know that. Just hold off.”

“I don’t want to wait forever.” I close my eyes and picture living as Jayson’s wife. Sleeping in his bed, his mouth pressed to my neck?—

“Two weeks. That’s all. Then call me again and we’ll talk details.”

“Fine.” I stand up, pushing my stool back. I lean forward to cash out of the game, but there’s no money left. All donated back into Costa pockets. “But I don’t like it here. I don’t know anyone, I don’t have any friends, and I miss home.”

“I know you do. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Yeah. I know you’re sorry, you keep saying it, and it doesn’t do me any good.”

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