Head Rush (32 page)

He eyes me brightly. “Why do I feel so suspicious of this request?”

“Yes or no? If it comes to that, I want you not to be there. Don’t you think our odds of success are better if Midcity’s number-one fugitive isn’t getting arrested or killed in the church aisle? I think it’s very logical, don’t you?”

“Logic isn’t everything.”

“And you had your bite, didn’t you?” I move onto his lap. “This is the promise I’m requesting.” I nestle into him with the sensation that we’re two creatures of the same species, the last two on the planet, and we’ve finally found one another. These moments feel expansive, like they contain everything. Like they’re almost enough for a lifetime. Almost.

“Promise,” I say.

“I’ll promise. Only because it won’t come to that.”

“Thank you.”

We stay mashed together, dallying over breakfast, until I pull myself away from him to go refill my coffee. I should be going.

When I get back Packard is looking serious. “I don’t want to be apart anymore, Justine. After all this is over, I want to wake up together. Always be together like this. Not here, of course.”

“Let’s talk about that after we get through today.”

“But where are you going to stay, even tonight? Your old apartment’s condemned, and obviously Otto’s penthouse isn’t an option.”

“I can’t think that far.”

“Then I’ll think for both of us. Come stay with me at my place. For good. And tomorrow we’ll wake up and have coffee in bed, and we’ll go to the movies after that.”

I look away. “That’s a sweet plan.”

“Nothing sweet about it.” He moves his hand firmly along my back, and his breath warms my neck. He feels like home. “I want us to share a place together, Justine. And if you don’t feel like my home is home enough, we can find somewhere else. Anything together.”

A lump forms in my throat. “I would love that.”

“Good.” He goes serious. “And there’s something else I want to ask you. Something else important…”

My core of adrenalin buzzes bright. “Let’s get this day behind us first.”

“I want to ask you now.”

“No Packard.” I can’t let him ask me.

A glint of humor sparks in his eyes as he figures out what I thought he was going to ask. “Justine, it’s that I’ve never had a pet or anything, but I dream of having a dog. Adopting a rescue dog. A big, loping one. Would you be up for that?”

I straighten. “A dog?”

He grins, like the picture of it makes him happy.

I swallow. “You
should
get a dog,” I say. “You have to.”

A flash of confusion in his eyes. “I meant
us
. Me and you. Together. How would you feel about a dog? A dog is a lot of commitment.”

A lurch of grief. I swallow against it. “I love dogs.”

“Well, then,” He takes my hands— “Justine, would you have a dog with me? You and me and a dog. Like a family. Maybe we’ll have lots of dogs.”

I smile a teary smile. “I love dogs,” I say. “And I love you.”

He frowns. Stills. “What’s going on?”

I want to throw myself against him, tell him I don’t want to leave him, don’t want to die,
that’s what’s going on
.

His gaze intensifies.

And it’s here I pull it out—all my years of acting like nothing’s wrong when everything is. Because I have to keep him from playing the hero, being the one killed. I reach down and gather everything I have and I smile. Not just any smile, but a radiant, heartfelt smile. “I just love you like crazy. Is that okay?” I lean in and kiss him softly, sweetly. “And you’re not paying attention to the time, but I am. I have to leave. And I don’t
want
to.”

He smiles back. “We’ll get you the glasses. I’ll be there when you attack him.”

“Unless it’s in the church.”

Silence. I can see he regrets the promise.

“And we’ll win,” I say. I extract myself from him and climb out of the booth.

He stands, traces his finger down the side of my cheek. “Until then,” he says.

This could be the last time I see him. Certainly the last time I’m alone with him. I close my eyes, drinking in his presence, thinking I ought to say something big and all-encompassing, something that will last him into old age, but he’s too smart. He’ll know. This will have to be enough now.

So I take his finger, kiss his fingertip, and look into his eyes. “You.”

He smiles a big, cockeyed, heartbreaking smile.

Chapter Eighteen

The sun is up over the lake, painting the snow-capped faces of the downtown buildings in pale yellow as I cross the bridge. My emotions roll through a Mobius-like maze from grief over leaving Packard to a
fuck-you-Fawna
defiance to determination to beat the prediction to a strange sense of glory, and even, here and there, to desire just to burn the city down.

And of course, to fear.

And yet…something is different. My fear doesn’t feel so suffocating, so all-encompassing. It doesn’t feel like my
world
anymore. Because I have a family now—Packard and I are a family, and I feel fierce about protecting him, and just fierce
about
him, like an animal in the wild. And the disillusionists are like our pack. They’ll walk in the sun, because no amount of fear will stop me from fighting Otto. And I’ll do my damnedest to survive it.

I think about writing Packard a letter, for Shelby to give him just in case I do die, but I hate the thought of some letter about how I want him to go on to live a happy life. It seems maudlin, and also, it strikes me as a stupid and even dangerous thing to ruminate on my death like that—the ultimate in negative visualization.

Just as I hit the promenade, I get an idea for something better than a letter anyway. On the next block I head up to Otto’s street, and use my key to sneak into the parking garage. The inside is cold and quiet. I doubt anybody’s hanging out in here at this early hour, but I don’t want to take the chance, so I stick to the shadows as best I can. Fear hums inside me like crazy.

Let it
, I think.

My little car is on the second level. I open the door and get into the driver’s seat, rest my hands on the wheel.
Good ol’ car
.

Then I take ahold of Gumby’s feet and yank him right off the dashboard. I scratch the glue bits off him, and I put his hands up, and even one of his legs, and bend his chest a bit to puff it out, making him look as happy as possible. Happy Gumby. Beyond-happy Gumby. This is my letter to Packard. He gave me peace and freedom I’ve never known, and his trust, and this excellent feeling of love.

I’ll give Gumby to Shelby to give to Packard, with instructions that he has to keep Gumby exactly like this, because that is how things ended up.

The dashboard clock ticks. Here in the closed car, it’s like the only sound in the world. Seven forty-five. It’s going to be an insane day, even without the predicted fight to the death. I’m tired just thinking of it all, or maybe that’s the exhaustion setting in. The Dowagers’ luncheon, as Shelby calls it, is at nine-thirty—she’s the only one of my bridesmaids going to it. Then I will accompany school children to the Midcity graveyard to honor the dead. Shelby will have to find an excuse to duck out—she needs to get to the storage locker with Packard, but Ez, Simon, and Ally will have to go with me. The school children are to sing songs.

Otto will be with the Midcity Mavens at that time; they’re holding an honorary wedding ball game in which Otto is expected to play for an hour. At that point, I’ll be in my final fitting for the dress, and then having my hair done. Otto’s club, the Merovingian Club, is holding some cigar-and-cocktail event for him during the early evening. Dad is invited too, but he won’t go. That’s around the time I’m to attend the Midcity Fashionista Club’s champagne event where I will give them a sneak peek of my dress, alongside my bridesmaids in their dresses. At seven, I’m to show up at the courthouse steps with Dad for the horseback procession. Dad and I and some Midcity guardsmen will lead it, along with my bridal party, followed by a band, some classic cars carrying dignitaries of the city and other guests, then baton-twirling brigades, more horseback riders. Otto and his groomsmen and best man, Fancher—his detective partner from Otto’s time on the police force—will join the parade at the rear, once it begins. In keeping with tradition, I won’t even see him for the parade. We will enter the church at seven-thirty. The reception is set for eight-thirty.

I get out of the car, shutting the door softly.

A deep voice. “Hello, Justine.”

I jump and spin around. Otto leans on a nearby concrete pillar.

“Otto! What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing, skulking around in a parking garage on your wedding day?” Lazily, he pushes off the pillar, comes toward me. “I thought you weren’t going on any more secret skates.”

I study his face. How much does he know? Does he know I pulled off the tracker? There’s something held back in his gaze, as though he’s refusing to connect with me.

“I didn’t think you were going to track me anymore.” I regret saying that the instant it leaves my mouth.

He stops in front of me—too close. This is not the way he usually acts, and not the way he usually looks at me, either—there’s a tentativeness, as though he’s unsure about me now. I wonder if somehow he’s sniffing out Packard, if he
knows
. Men have a kind of canine sense about other men. Maybe he’s intuiting the night of sex from my expression—people can do that. Or maybe he’s plain old smelling Packard. I’m drenched in Packard on so many levels.

“Where were you?”

“Skating.” I try a smile. “Not all of us get to go out and play baseball today, you know. Some of us will be sitting around being endlessly primped over.”

He looks away. There’s too much contained in the sudden pause. He’s not confident of me anymore. I hold tighter to Gumby, keeping him down by my leg. I don’t want Otto to see Gumby.

“How’s your father?” he asks suddenly.

My father?
“He loves his room.”

“Did he sleep well?”

I shrug. Is this a warning question? Should I be worried about Dad? “We’ll see when I get back,” I say. “I should start getting ready for the Dowagers’ breakfast.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

A pause. Fighting with himself. Then, “What do you have there?”

I smile. Barely convincing, I’m sure. “Huh?”

He tips his eyes down to my hand. “There.”

I lift Gumby up by the legs. The way I’m holding him in the space between us, it’s like Gumby’s a cross I’m using to ward off a vampire.

Otto takes this stricken breath, just staring at Gumby. And then he shifts his gaze to me, with the weirdest expression, like grief. Like it really
is
having a vampire-cross effect on him.

“Justine,” he says.

I swallow, give him my best poker face.

He comes to me, pulls me into a hug, and then he kisses me on the forehead. “You are so precious to me. You’ll never know.”

I pull away after an appropriate time span. He still seems grief-stricken. I give him a curious smile.

“You’ve made Gumby this way on our wedding day.” Otto nods at Gumby. “Happy Gumby. To know this, to see this, it’s better than any other gift I could have gotten.”

I nearly collapse with relief. I have him back—Gumby assuaged whatever concerns he had.

He says, “After all this work to clear our path…there’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you, Justine. Not a lot I wouldn’t take on. And the fact that I’ve made you this happy…” He thumps his fist onto his heart.

I feel this thump in my heart too. Pity. Sorrow. “Oh, Otto,” I say.

The worst thing is, I don’t hate him, and I truly don’t want him to die. I’m just…
disillusioned
with him. And I can't let him destroy my friends.

“It’s all going to be worth it.”

“I hope so,” I say.

“You were going to bring him? To the wedding?”

“Gumby?” I swallow. Collect myself. “Riding in my bouquet? What would the Fashionista Club say?”

“They would say you’re the loveliest bride on the planet.”

His smile gives me shivers. He rests his hands lightly on my shoulders. “Everything is clicking into place. Everything is turning out perfectly for this day. Sometimes, Justine, the best laid plans do work out.”

I feel a little sick, imagining Packard’s severed head. But no, Packard will grow old. I’ll make sure of it. Otto regards me thoughtfully. “I wish it were tonight right now, Justine. I wish this day were behind us.”

“It will be,” I say. “But Otto, it’s bad luck to see your bride on the wedding day.”

“The hell with luck.”

I roll my eyes and give him a quick kiss. “It will be tonight soon.”

With that, I skate off from the man who once was my hero, leaving him there in the dark parking garage with all his plans and hopes and dreams. This man I will betray and attack tonight. The man I just might die with.

Outside, the sun is higher, the air crisp and cool, skies endlessly blue. The day seems blandly happy and sure of things, as if it’s preparing for the wedding too. The day doesn’t know.

I continue down to the Midcity Arms and enter the lavish, chandelier-laden lobby just before eight-twenty. I spy Shelby in the far corner-seating area, ensconced in a velvet couch. She stands and waves and I wave back, then smile at the desk clerks. I move across the floor in a way that hopefully looks like walking, and not skating.

Shelby’s wearing a black dress with white polka dots and a black hat, chosen, no doubt, out of some sense of irony. With a knowing look, she watches me approach. I meet her gaze. So much is there in the space between us. My best friend.

“Out all night.” She raises one eyebrow. “I trust it was worth it.”

I don’t even know what to say to that. I just hug her.

She looks at me too long when I finally let her go. “What?”

“Come on,” I say.

Up in my hotel room, I set Gumby down on the table and collapse on the couch, unlacing my skates.

Shelby picks him up. “I think that you must have had excellent night. But why remove him from his home?”