The Triangle Read online

  I turn. My back to him. I stare at the glass wall that’s now facing me and can see his reflection floating amongst the trees outside. I speak to the ghost of Danny hovering there on the vitreous partition that gives us the illusion of protection. That, at the moment, is successfully housing us from whatever forces wait for us outside these walls.

  “You forgot about it, didn’t you?” I ask.

  The reflection looks toward the floor and shakes its head.

  “No,” he says, still staring at the floor. “No. I didn’t forget.”

  And then I watch as he turns his back to my back, stands there for a second, not moving, deciding—I’d like to believe—whether he should go or stay, and finally…

  Exits the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - CHRISTINE

  BEFORE

  “Dance for me, Salomé! Dance!” Alec exclaims as I twist and turn, moving my hips in front of him and Danny.

  It turns out I love going to the opera. Who knew? We’re laughing deliriously in the Presidential Suite of the Four Seasons, the lights of Sydney Harbour twinkling at our feet.

  I’m drunk. On all of it. The champagne, the adrenaline, the rush of discovering something new, the profoundly erotic pulsing that happens in my body when I take someone’s life.

  I’m sure that last part is fucked up.

  Maybe it is. Maybe it’s not. But it’s honest.

  I don’t care if the things we do are right or wrong. I don’t even care that Alec is a pretty good liar. Hell, who am I kidding, he’s a great liar.

  But he won’t lie to me. Danny either. So when we started pulling heists, I believed him when he said that no one would get hurt.

  And when they did, I believed him that it wasn’t my fault.

  And when it became clear that it was my fault, I believed him that it was for the best.

  They were bad people. People who deserved the things they had coming.

  I believed him when he said that stealing the diamond from his father would be ‘a laugh.’

  I believed him when he said that no harm would come from it.

  And I kept believing. And I kept believing. And I still believe.

  I know that makes me naïve. And I don’t care.

  Because I also know that I love this life and that it’s a whole lot better than the life Danny and I had before.

  I love Danny. He’s a good person and he deserves to be fed, and warm, and happy.

  And underneath it all, Alec is a good person too… Okay, maybe not a good person, but he loves us. I know he does. And I’m grateful for that. Because it makes all this possible.

  I don’t want it to end.

  I just wish Danny felt the same way.

  He did for a while. But that was before things got complicated. And not complicated in the way life gets complicated when you’re stealing things and killing people. He found ways to be OK with that stuff. Justified it or whatever.

  But complicated in the way things have gotten with me and Alec. It was inevitable. Three teenage kids with no accountability to anyone and no one telling us what we can and can’t do? What did he think was gonna happen?

  Hell, if Danny hadn’t been around, I never would have finished boarding school. I barely finished as it was. Danny kept making Alec enroll me somewhere every time we’d land in a new location. I’d last maybe two weeks before some rich Swiss girl, or some rich French girl, or some rich Japanese girl would say something snotty and I’d punch her lights out and get expelled. But Danny kept insisting, and Alec kept buying my way into a new one.

  The only one I kinda liked was the last one, in Barcelona. It wasn’t that I liked the school so much as they had this incredible music hall. I guess they prided themselves on having cranked out some music prodigy once and decided that they should capitalize on their reputation as the place that produced… whoever. From what I could see, the crazy beautiful music hall hardly ever got used by anyone, so I’d just let myself in and plink out stuff on this hundred-thousand-dollar Steinway they had.

  I don’t think I’m very good, and I never had a teacher or anything, but I liked playing. It relaxed me. Which is probably why I made it the six final weeks to graduation at that place. Instead of getting into a fight, I’d just go play the piano. Maybe that’s why the opera tonight was so amazing. I think it felt calming in the same way.

  Anyway, if not for Danny, instead of just pulling ‘holiday capers,’ as Alec called them, throughout those years, this life we have now would have been my full-time job. This thing between Alec and me would’ve happened a whole lot sooner.

  I know Danny hates it. I just don’t know why. I think I made it pretty clear that I wanted him. Wanted to be with him. Needed him. So many times. But he wouldn’t take me. I would’ve begged if I thought it’d have worked.

  I mean, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even see a cock, much less touch one, until my eighteenth birthday. The same night I had my first kiss.

  Does that say something about me?

  Alec said he had a present for me. And it wasn’t the yacht he rented for the party. He pulled me downstairs to the lower deck and gave me the diamond necklace I’m wearing tonight.

  I don’t even know if he planned on kissing me. I certainly don’t think he planned on crying in front of me. His parents had been dead a year and I know he had never cried over it. Not until that night. It came out of nowhere. He placed the diamonds around my neck and burst into tears.

  He looked so sweet. Fragile. Broken. Like nothing I’d ever seen him look like before. And it scared me a little. I guess he saw that fear in my eyes because the tears stopped just as quickly as they started.

  Then… then his mouth was on mine.

  His hand ripping down my bikini bottom.

  And everything after happened so fast, I’m not sure I even remember it.

  I just know I’m glad it happened.

  Except now Danny knows. He’s colder. His typical scowl so much deeper. And even though I believe Alec when he says none of that’s about me, he’s wrong.

  It’s all about me.

  But tonight…

  Tonight feels like it used to feel. Before. I wonder if it’s because with this Roderick guy gone, Alec feels freer or lighter. Maybe it’s just the newness of tonight. The Opera. Or maybe Danny is relaxing. Or…

  I don’t know. And I don’t care. I’m just happy that it’s the way it used to be.

  So I’m dancing.

  Alec and Danny are laughing and have their arms around each other. It makes me so, so, so happy. And I do feel like I’m responsible for this. And that makes me dance harder, faster. And then I trip. And then I fall. Because I’m a terrible dancer.

  And they also fall down, laughing. And we’re all silly, and giggly, and happy.

  This is my life. I can’t believe it, but this is my real life.

  I guess good things do happen to bad people.

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Alec says, laughing and standing up. “I want to show you something.”

  He stumbles to a stand and Danny and I laugh harder. Danny tumbles over and his head lands in my lap. I stroke his hair and he smiles, his laugh turning quiet.

  Alec faces the windows and Sydney Harbour beyond. He takes off his jacket and in the reflection in the window we see him begin to unbutton his shirt.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Dance for me, Salomé!” Danny giggles out.

  Alec finishes unbuttoning his tux shirt and strips it off. And when it hits the floor, we see…

  “Holy shit,” I say, “When did you…?”

  “About a week ago,” he answers the question I didn’t finish asking.

  “Fuck, dude,” says Danny.

  “It’s—” I start, before Alec cuts me off.

  “It’s us,” he says. “Three points, converging, the lines bleeding into each other, making something strong and unbreakable. Like a diamond.”

  Danny and I stand, slowly, mostly because we’re pretty drun
k, and we walk over to Alec. I can see his smiling reflection in the window.

  The tattoo still looks fresh, the skin around where ink has been injected still tender-looking. I reach out and trace one line of the triangle. Danny does the same with another of the lines. Alec’s head drops back, and he breathes in.

  “Shit,” I say, “does it hurt still?”

  “No, man. It’s exactly the opposite.”

  And then a FLASH and a GLOVED HAND and now I’m falling. And I’m falling. And I’m falling! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Who—?

  NOW

  “Christine!” Danny’s voice. His hand, shaking me as I startle awake. I don’t know where I am. I look around quickly, taking in everything like I’ve been taught to do whenever I find myself in a new place. Assessing paths of escape. Assessing points of entry. What can be used as a weapon? What can be used to my advantage?

  I’m wearing a bathrobe. A nice one. I could take the belt that wraps it around me and strangle someone to death. I could abandon it in one move if someone grabbed the material and then I’d be gone. Naked and exposed, but also slick and nimble.

  I’m on a huge bed. Bigger than a king. Like the robe, it’s just a little bit more extravagant than I’ve seen before. I sit up, sharply, and retreat back on the massive surface, striking at Danny out of instinct. He grabs my arms and stops me from hitting him, wraps me in a hug.

  “You’re OK. It’s OK,” he says, his voice pitched low and soothing.

  I breathe in and out like I just ran a sprint. Or five.

  “What was it?” he asks. “What happened?”

  “I dunno. I’m not sure.”

  “You were kind of smiling when I walked in and then all of a sudden you started screaming.”

  “I did?” I say. He nods. “I don’t… I’m not sure.”

  It’s not even a lie. I really don’t know what just happened. My dream from almost seven years ago was so vivid, so lucid, so clear.

  And yet… I can’t remember shit about what happened a few nights ago.

  Fuck.

  This whole memory loss bullshit. It’s making me edgy. I don’t know if I should feel safe, or happy, or scared and sad. But I am hyperaware. Very in the moment. Ready to react to whatever comes next.

  I’m feeding myself that story, anyway. Just gonna go with it.

  Right now I just need to be here with Danny and let him hold me.

  Because… like… how do I even know those memories of us are real? Maybe I made them up? God, if that’s what’s happening I’m gonna be pissed.

  Hell, who knows if this is even happening right now?

  “Is this all real?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “You. Me. Alec. Us. Are we all really here together? Were you and I … together-together before? Am I in your arms right now?”

  He lets out a small huff. “Feels fuckin’ real to me.”

  “Does that mean it is?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not a philosopher. I’m just a dude who chops cars and builds bikes and tries to do as little other damage as possible along the way. But I guess… When I walked in here you were in a reality that sure as shit seemed real to you in the moment. But, y’know, you’re in this reality now.”

  He kisses me on the head and I wince because I can feel it in the stitches running down the back of my skull. How did they get there?

  God damn it.

  “Where’s Alec?” I ask.

  “Fuckin’ knows?”

  “Danny?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He pulls back and looks at me, fanning some hair away from my eyes as he does. “For what?”

  “For everything that happened. Everything that ripped us apart. I feel like it’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s his fault.”

  “But I chose to stay with him.”

  He nods and chews at the inside of his mouth. “Yeah, well, that’s true.”

  “But you know why, don’t you?”

  “I mean, I’ll go out on a limb and guess ‘money.’”

  I sigh. Shake my head. “No. Because I didn’t think that I’d ever get what I want from you. And so I just decided… I did what I had to do to stay… strong.”

  “Yeah? Did it work?”

  I think about giving him the answer I know I should, but I opt for the truth.

  “Yeah. It did. It was the right decision.”

  I hate seeing him frown.

  “But, look, you’re here now. And I’m here now. And, I mean, we did fuck a little while ago, so I assume that means you’re in a different place about it all than you were before.” I bend my head to look at him with a kind of half-joking, searching face that always used to make him laugh. It works. A bit. I go on, “So, whatever. Maybe it all went the way it was supposed to, so that we can be here.”

  He looks around, “Here? You mean here in this fucking glass box in the middle of who knows where with Alec, who—and don’t even get me started on the fuckin’ irony that that dude has us living in a glass house—who, I’ll bet everything I own, is the whole fucking cause of whatever this is that’s happening, but that you can’t remember because you cracked your goddamned head open, but the one thing we know for certain is that lots of people with guns and who knows what the hell else are trying to kill all three of us right now?”

  That’s more of a speech than I’m used to from Danny. Or maybe it isn’t. Again, I’m not sure I can trust my memories right now. “Why do you think it’s Alec?”

  “Who else? I’m not saying he set us up. I don’t imagine he’d try to coordinate a hit on himself. But whatever the fuck he’s into—and I think I know what it is—he’s dragged you into it too, and the result of it all is that we’re balls deep in van den Berg again.”

  I almost laugh at that. “You think you know what he’s into? What is it?”

  Danny’s brow knits and he takes a breath. His lips tighten. Either he’s not sure he’s right or he just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. I’m about to prod him to answer, but I don’t get the chance because Alec beats me to it.

  “Yeah, Danny. I’m curious, man. What’s he into?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - DANNY

  I don’t see Alec when I look over. I see the silhouette of him. Framed by the doorway, the now-setting sun casting him in shadow. An Alec-shaped phantom.

  He’s still got his shirt off. Shoes too. Probably doesn’t wanna dirty up his fancy glass house. Fuckin’ van den Berg.

  Wearing only trousers, leaning against the door frame, he looks like he could be on vacation in the Caribbean some goddamn place. Lazing around like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Because he doesn’t.

  I know he doesn’t care if he lives or dies. Or that’s not true. He does. We all do. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t put so much effort into still being here. It’s more that as long as he is alive, Alec doesn’t have to care at all about what he does or how he does it. Every resource imaginable is available to him. Everything he could ever want is at his fingertips.

  It took me a couple of years to figure out why he is the way he is. Why he does the things he does.

  I finally figured out that Alec’s whole reason for being is to test the world. See how far he can push it before it breaks.

  Hell, it would not surprise me if he figured out how to live forever. The only thing that seems like it might be able to end his run…

  Is sitting next to me in this room right now.

  “Really, bru,” he says, entering the bedroom. Christine and I are perched on the bed. “I want to hear. What is it that you think you know?”

  “Fuckin’ don’t, dude.”

  “I’m not kidding,” he says, putting his hands to his chest, feigning innocence. “I’d honestly love to know. Because I’ve been trying to figure out why the fok this is all happening, and I have no good answers.”

  I glance at Christine. Her eyes show a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

&
nbsp; “Brasil Lynch,” I say. The look Christine is giving off changes. Now it’s something more like a tortured perplexity. Like she knows the name. Maybe she heard it somewhere but can’t remember where. It’s possible that Alec never told her the name of the people he was having her do a hit on. That’s not unlike him. Half the time we were doing shit back in the day, we had no clue who we were doing it to or why.

  Interestingly, the look on Alec’s face when he says, “Who?” is genuinely oblivious. Not that that means anything. He can put on whatever face he needs to for whatever the occasion calls for.

  “Fuckin’ Brasil Lynch, dude. The guy I’ve been working with for the past four years.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Yeah? He says the same thing about you.”

  “Well, then, how exactly am I into whatever I’m supposed to be into with him when he and I don’t know each other?”

  “Because I believe him.”

  “And you don’t believe me?”

  “No.”

  “Shame.”

  He walks over closer. He swings around me and stands on the side of the bed beside Christine. He strokes her shoulder.

  “How you feeling, luv?” he asks. “How’s the old brain box?”

  “I’m… OK,” she says, haltingly. “Alec?”

  “Yes, nunu?”

  “Do you know what happened to me?”

  He sighs out through his perfectly shaped, fits-his-stupid-fucking-face-exactly nose, closes his eyes for a moment, and nods, “Some. Maybe.” He sits on the bed with us and gently presses his forehead to hers. “Apparently, you were on a roof and someone threw you off. I’m guessing it’s one of the same someones who paid us a house call this morning.”

  “Paid me a house call,” I say. “It wasn’t your fuckin’ house.”

  “Yes, well, do you think it’s an accident that they only showed up once all three of us were there together? Because I’ve always thought you to be dead clever, bru, and if you think it’s a coincidence, then I need to reexamine that assessment.”