Beautifully Cruel

25

Realizing what he’s admitted, he blurts, “I didn’t mean that! He’s a fine individual, and I have nothing but good things to say about—”

I say firmly, “Buddy, I’m not going to repeat a word of this conversation to him. I promise you. I swear. Okay?”

I hear some rustling, then a heavy sigh. I imagine Buddy flattened in his recliner, passing a shaky hand over his pale face.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“But I am going to ask you more questions.”

His moan is faint and full of despair. It doesn’t deter me at all.

“Who is he?”

There’s a pause. When he comes back on, he sounds surprised. “You don’t know?”

“I know his name is Liam Black. I know he has some kind of relationship with the police, because they recognized him when he was with me at the hospital. Speaking of which, he scared the s**t out of them, too, and my stuck-up doctor, if that helps you feel better.”

Buddy makes a grudging noise, indicating it might help a little bit.

“Beyond that, I’m in the dark. How do you know him?”

“By reputation only,” comes the solemn answer. “But that’s enough.”

“What is he, like, a boogeyman or something?”

I laughed when I asked the question, but Buddy doesn’t echo it. His voice is dead serious. “The boogeyman wishes he were Liam Black.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“And if you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

I say drily, “Gee, thanks, boss. That’s super helpful.”

“You’re a smart girl, Tru. I’ve always thought so. Smart and tough. Mature for your age.” He pauses. “Could be all that cow milking and steer riding, I don’t know.”

“I regret telling you anything about my childhood.”

“My point is that you have eyes and a brain. Use them.”

Obviously, he’s not going to give me anything here. We sit in silence for a while, until I decide to go in a different direction. “What did you tell Diego and Carla?”

“The truth. That you were assaulted in the alley and a good Samaritan found you and called an ambulance. They had a lot of questions—Diego especially—but I told them you had family with you at the hospital and I’d let them know as soon as I heard anything.”

“Uh-huh. And how did you explain the bodies?”

“I don’t know anything about any bodies,” he says quickly. “Perhaps the police…”

He trails off, coughs, then falls silent. It’s his way of letting me know he’s already said too much on the subject, but he doesn’t have to give more detail for me to understand him.

The cops were Liam’s cleanup crew.

The plot thickens.

Buddy says, “I, uh, I also gave Carla and Diego each a nice bonus. You’ll get yours too, of course.”

Now I’m really suspicious. “Bonus? For what?”

“For…loyalty. For all your hard work. The late shift is difficult, after all. And I know it’s been hard since the dishwasher left. You’ve all been doing extra work.” I’m quiet a moment, thinking. “In other words, it’s a bribe.”

“What? No!”

“You want us to keep our mouths shut about what happened that night.”

He scoffs. “Now, now, let’s not be theatrical.”

“Buddy, you’re starting to freak me out. This isn’t you. You don’t say ‘dear’ and make bribes and call people the boogeyman. What the hell is really going on?”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks. When he does, his voice is hushed and reverent, like you’d use in church.

“You’re under the protection of Liam Black now. That’s what’s going on. And I only say that much because it surely must be obvious to you. I’ll add nothing more, except to repeat what I’ve already said: you’ve got eyes and a brain. Use them.” He disconnects.

I sit staring at the phone in my hand, even more confused than I was before I made the call, until I hear the doorbell ring. Then Ellie’s voice floats in from the other room. “Tru? Come out here.” She laughs. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

11

TRU

W

hen I enter the living room, Ellie is standing at the open front door with her arms crossed over her chest. She’s grinning.

Crowded around the door in the hallway outside are three delivery guys holding

gigantic bouquets of flowers.

“Go ahead guys,” says Ellie, gesturing into the apartment. “Put them down wherever you can find a spot.”

The delivery guys file past her. I was wrong: there are six of them, not three.

“What’s this?” Bewildered, I watch them place bouquets around the room.

“Delivery for Truvy Sullivan.” A tall guy wearing a baseball cap with a flower logo on it sets a bouquet of tulips on the coffee table, then straightens and turns to me. “That you?”

“Yes.”

He holds out a clipboard. “Sign on number five, please.”

I take the clipboard, looking around the room in disbelief. “These are all for me?”

He jerks his thumb toward the door. “We’ve got another load in the van.”

I scribble my signature on line five, give the clipboard back to the delivery guy, and stare in wonder at a bouquet of long stemmed roses. The petals are a red so dark and velvety they’re nearly black. “I’ve never seen roses that color before.”

He grins. “They’re awesome, right? It’s a hybrid variety called Black Magic.”