Reunion (16 page)

Who is standing here, looking like a walrus wearing clothing.

And who is, like Galt and Mark, a deep undercover agent.

I am getting to the point where I need a flow chart. And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

“Hi!” says the older woman, bending down to offer her hand to me. “I’m Helen. Allie and Marissa’s mom.”

“Carrie,” I say,
shaking her hand.
 

Mark stands. She grabs him in an enormous hug that he clearly wasn’t expecting.

“And I know who you are,” she says with a laugh.
T
hen I barely hear her whisper in his ear, “And now you know who they
really
are.”

Huh.

She gives him a conspirator’s grin and Morty goes into the kitchen. He comes out with three more mugs of coffee, a little pitcher of cream, and a sugar bowl.

It’s kind of weird seeing a guy who looks like a redwood tree offering coffee service, but hey—it’s a surreal kind of day.

“Coffee?” Morty asks.
H
e’s clearly cowed by the presence of Galt and Loogie, who look like they could tear the entire apartment to shreds in three seconds.
T
atted up, covered in old leather, and grizzled with age and sun, they are the epitome of finely-aged badass.

“Coffee?
Coffee?
” Loogie growls. “What’s this shit? Coffee?”

Galt grins and reaches into his back pocket.

Morty flinches.

He pulls out a silver flask and pours a generous amount of liquor into all three mugs.

“Much better,” Loogie says with a sigh, settling down into the chair Morty had just been in. He sips the hot coffee and smiles.

Helen laughs.

“You would like Effie,” I mutter under my breath.

Mark laughs, too.

“So this whole reunion thing is cute and all,” Chase interrupts. His eyes are calculated, like a hawk’s. “But me and Allie have some questions.”

“
Some
questions? How about all the questions in the world,” she adds.

“I can
only
answer some,” Galt replies in a voice filled with jagged rocks.

Chase’s face deepens into a frown.

“He’s right,” Mark says reluctantly. “He can’t answer everything.”

“You’re taking his side?” Chase practically shouts.

“
I mean that literally, Chase,” Mark says calmly. “He
can’t
. Not
won’t
.”
 

“There is no fucking side, Chase,” Galt says. His jaw, too, is tight. “It’s just the limit of what I can say.”

“Because you—”

Helen interrupts Allie, then looks at Marissa. Something passes between the women and Marissa stands abruptly, pulling on Morty’s arm. The coffee tray is still in his hands. He’s standing there, speechless.

“Me and Morty have an appointment we need to get to. So sorry,” she explains.

“
We do?” Morty looks at her, flummoxed. “What are we doing?”
 

“Getting your butthole waxed,” Chase says.

“I didn’t sign up for that!” Morty protests as Marissa grabs her purse, then drags him to the door. He slides his feet into flip-flops just as she yanks him into the hall. “I don’t understand why we’re—”

SLAM!

Helen gives me an apologetic look. “Loogie and Galt just can’t say anything in front of them, you know?”

“But it’s ok
ay
in front of the rest of us?”

“You’re all materially involved. Plus, I know you’ll keep your trap shut,” Galt says. “That Carrottop guy is a loose cannon.”

“Morty wouldn’t say anything,” Allie protests. She’s looking at Galt like he’s a stray raccoon she found playing in her garbage.

“Even better to have them both gone,” Mark says.
I
t’s as if he’s jumping to Galt’s defense.

Chase blows air out his nose.

The tension level just rose up above my chin.

“Look,” Loogie says. “This is easy. There’s only so much we can say. You all know Mark’s with the DEA. Me and Galt are from different alphabet soup. That’s all you need to know.”

Allie’s face morphs into a mask of fury. “That’s all? That’s all? You keep my mother away from me for two year
s
and we think
G
alt’s out to kill Chase for the past year and we’re supposed to take your few sentences and say that’s enough?”

Mark gives her a look of appraisal. Like he’s underestimated her.

I think they all have.

“And you, Mom!” Allie whirls around to face Helen. She’s breathing hard. “You never told me! Marissa and I couldn’t figure out why you stayed with Loogie.”

“Hey,” Loogie argues. “I am the complete package.” He pats his paunch and smirks.

Helen elbows him. “I didn’t know anything about Loogie until Mark rescued Allie and I was terrified Galt would try to kill her. Then Loogie finally told me just enough that I didn’t worry.”

“But for a year Chase and I did worry! And Mark helped us this entire time. Gave us money to help.”

Chase reddens at that statement.

“Money you didn’t have to give!” she says to Mark.

“I’m fine,” he assures her.

“No, really. You’ve bought us a car, you paid for Chase’s tuition, you made it so we could get by so Chase could do his nursing program. You’ve sacrificed so much, and you didn’t have to!” she continues.

All eyes are suddenly on Mark.

“You did that?” Galt asks.

Chase jumps in. “
More than you ever did, Old Man.” His eyes are cold and dead, directed at Galt. “Nice to know you weren’t actually trying to kill me for the past year. Means you deserve a fucking Happy Father’s Day Card. Maybe a gift. How about a nice striped tie?”
 

And the tension level just went above my head. I’m drowning in it.

“Chase,” Allie pleads.

“Don’t ‘Chase’ him. I deserve that,” Galt says to Allie. His voice is a mixture of gentle and gruff.

“You deserve a fuck of a lot more,” Chase hisses. Allie’s gaze bounces between the two, then settles on Mark. Her eyes beg him to do something.

B
ut Mark’s just watching Galt. He’s a conflicted son, too. The weight of the world has been on his shoulders for far too long. He gets to have his own feelings about all this.

“Thank you,” Galt says, his eyes lasered in on Mark. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Them,” Helen adds in a breathy voice. “Them.”

Galt just purses his lips and nods.
H
e slugs back his entire cup of coffee.

“Well,” Loogie announces, slapping the tops of his thighs as he stands. “That about covers everything. Let’s roll, Galt.”

“That’s it?” Chase shouts, his voice slipping octaves via outrage.

“You’re staying in?” My words are aimed at Galt, who, until now, has ignored me.

His eyes shift. He doesn’t quite meet mine. “In?”

“Now that you know about Mark and the DEA. About Chase and Allie. About your sons and what their lives are like. You’re just going back to the way you’ve been living all these decades deep undercover?”

Helen squeezes Loogie’s elbow. I’m guessing they’ve had a similar conversation.

“Look, ah...Carrie,” Galt says, suddenly uncomfortable. His eyes take me in. I can only imagine what I seem like to him. Mostly bald. Bruised. My arm in a sling. I’m nothing to look at and certainly don’t inspire confidence in the future daughter-in-law department.

Then again, it’s not like the Halloway...er, Paulson....er,
Ellison
men get together for Easter and Christmas dinners every year, right?

“
Uh...if I was getting out of this line of business, I’d have done it long ago. Way long ago. Back when Mark’s grandfather blackmailed me.”
 

Mark’s head whips around like he’s been stung by a bee.

“WHAT?” he thunders. “Don’t you start talking smack about my grandfather—”

“I AM TALKING TRUTH about your grandfather, Mark. You want the story? You shut up and listen.”

Oh, yeah. No holiday family dinners here. Or, um, ever.

Mark looks like he’s ready to kill Galt.

Chase is the one who gentles him.

“Let him speak,” Chase says in a hoarse voice. Mark crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing.

Galt’s eyes roll to me. “I had to pretend I was a cop on the take. Mob dealings. Senator Thornberg—” he says the name like he has a mouth full of dog poop in it—“knew that. Knew I was deep in. Hated the fact that I learned some pretty shady things about him.”

Loogie glares at Mark. “You know how it is. You’ve learned some pretty fucked up truths about people in D.C.”

Marks mouth twists into a grimace but he says nothing.

“Thornberg set me up. Made it so your mom
thought I was all bad. Lawyered up and got custody of you. What could I do? With a guy like Thornberg setting you up, it was like—”
 

“Like El Burjo setting up my dad to take the fall,” I say, interrupting him.

Mark’s eyes flash with emotion.

“Right.” Galt gives me a look that might—just might—involve a shred of gratitude. “So I went in deeper. Deep undercover. Met a woman.” He looks down at his empty coffee cup, reaches in his back pocket, and pours liquor in it. Drinks it down.

Silence floats in the air like a spirit that isn’t ready to move on to the next world.

And then:

“Oh, fuck,” Chase whispers. His eyes widen and he tilts his head, looking at Galt. “My mom? My mom was an agent?”

Galt’s mouth sets firmly. He says nothing.

“Holy fuck,” Chase grunts. Allie told me Chase’s mom was raped and murdered by a bunch of men who were out for vengeance against Galt. Chase killed one of the guys during the act, but couldn’t save his own mother. He was fifteen when it happened, and after that, Galt made him ride with the Atlas motorcycle gang.

It was all coming out in a new light now.

“That fucker killed her. You did well, offing him.
E
specially under the circumstances,”
Galt adds.
 

Chase is breathing so hard I’m worried he’ll pass out. Allie is rubbing his back and looking like she might make Galt shut up if Chase can’t handle this.

“So,” Mark finally asks, his f
ro
wn deep. “Chase’s mom was an agent, she died in the field, and you just took him into the heart of all the danger?”

“That’s where I stop talking,” Galt announces. He sets his coffee cup down and stands.

“That’s it?” Chase groans, s
h
oving his fingers through his dark hair. His eyes look like
caramel on fire. “You give us that much and then you pull the plug? Jesus, Dad!”
 

Dad.

The word makes Mark, Chase and Galt all flinch. Uncertainty fills the older man’s face, swirling like a cloud of smoke in a tornado.

And then he is a mask again.

“Yep. Sorry, son,” he says, sauntering to the door. Loogie offers his hand to Helen, who takes it. She whispers something in his ear and his brow lowers. He’s not happy.

Neither is she.

So many secrets.

So many more out there.

But at least we just got some important answers.

Allie and Helen exchange a look, but Loogie and Galt are out of here in record time. As the three of them step out, Chase storms out of the room and down the hallway. He slams a door.

“That went well,” Allie says with a sigh.

Mark snorts.

I’m suddenly tired.

So, so tired.

I slump against the couch. Mark leans down and carefully helps me stand.

“Which bedroom is ours?” I ask.

“I’ll show you,” he whispers against my ear. Mark guides me to a door. The room inside is beautiful, furnished in mis-matched items but there’s an enormous king-size bed and two dressers. Two nightstands.

Plenty of pillows.

And it’s not a hospital bed.

“It’s paradise,” I murmur.

He chuckles. “It’ll do. For now.”

By the time he props up my arm with a bunch of pillows, I’m out cold.

And I sleep without dreams.

The
Sunrise Cafe
is like any other little breakfast joint in any other little town. Except this one has Allie serving plates of eggs, bacon, home fries, toast, and pancakes.

Chase, Mark and I enter. A bell on the door jingles. Four guys at the counter all spin on their stools.

Two of them look at me and whistle. Not wolf whistles, though.

T
he kind of sound you make when you see something disturbing.

“
They filming another zombie movie around here?” one of them grunts to the other. “I know they took over an entire block closer to the ocean a few weeks ago. Some movie about zombies in space.”
 

Mark bristles.

Chase sits down at an empty table and gives a wave to one of the guys. “Ignore them. They’re just dumbasses. Besides—”

“Tim!” calls out a roly-poly woman wearing a stained apron, carrying a pair of reading glasses in one hand and a spatula in the other.
Her hair is all a light grey and her eyebrows look like someone drew them on with permanent marker.
 

Black
permanent marker.
 

She marches over to Chase and plants a big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

He just smiles.

“Hey, Rita.”

“Here for breakfast?” she asks, looking at me and Mark with curiosity. Then she does a double-take and stares at me.

“You an extra in a disaster movie, honey?” she asks.

You can
really
tell I’m in Los Angeles now.

“No. Just got kidnapped by a sex slave trafficker who cut my best friend’s arm off. Rescued by a friend.”

Rita nods. “Good script. My
nephew
s love those ki
n
ds of movies.”

Chase and Mark are trying so hard not to laugh.

I kick somebody’s ankle as hard as I can. Chase yelps.

Good.

Allie appears with three white mugs and a coffee carafe. “You guys made it!” she squeals, pouring coffee with ruthless efficiency. “Rita, this is Cha—er, Tim’s brother, Mark, and his girlfriend, Carrie.”

Just as Rita’s about to say something, a man’s voice booms from behind the grill. “RITA! GET YOUR FAT ASS BACK HERE! THE PANCAKE BATTER DON’T MIX ITSELF.”