“Wow, can I jot that down?” Myron faked taking out a pen and scribbling. “Things . . . ripple. Great, got it.”
“Stop being a wiseass. What I’m saying is, people shouldn’t butt in, even with the best of intentions. It’s dangerous and an invasion. When you and Jessica had your big problem, would you have wanted all of us to try to butt in and help?”
Myron gave him the flat eyes. “Did you just compare my problems with a girlfriend to you going missing when your wife is pregnant?”
“Just in this way: It is foolhardy and frankly egomaniacal to think you have that kind of power. What’s going on with me and Suzze—that isn’t your business anymore. You have to respect that.”
“Now that I found you and know you’re safe, I do respect that.”
“Good. And unless your brother or sister-in-law asked for your help, well, you’re meddling in a matter of the heart. And the heart is like a war zone. Like us going overseas to Iraq or Afghanistan. You think you’re being heroic and saving stuff, but really you’re just making it worse.”
Myron gave him the flat eyes again. “Did you just compare my concern for my sister-in-law to overseas wars?”
“Like the US of A, you’re meddling. Life is like a river and when you change its course, you’re responsible for where it goes.”
A river. Sigh. “Please stop.”
He smiled and rose. “I better go.”
“So you have no idea where Kitty is?”
He sighed. “You didn’t listen to a word I said.”
“No, I listened,” Myron said. “But sometimes people are in trouble. Sometimes they need saving. And sometimes people who need help don’t have the courage to ask for it.”
Lex nodded. “Must be godlike,” he said, “to know when that is.”
“I don’t always make the right call.”
“No one does. Why it’s best to leave it alone. But I will tell you this much if it helps. Kitty said she was leaving in the morning. Going back to Chile or Peru or somewhere like that. So my guess is, if you want to help, you may be a little late to the party.”
11
Lex is fine,” Myron said.
Suzze and Lex owned a penthouse in a high-rise along the Hudson River in Jersey City, New Jersey. The penthouse took up the entire top floor and had more square feet than your average Home Depot. Despite the hour—it was midnight by the time he got back from Adiona Island—Suzze was dressed and waiting for him on the enormous terrace. The terrace was waaay over the top, what with those Cleopatra sofas and plush chairs and Greek statues and French gargoyles and Roman arches, especially when all you needed—indeed all you saw anyway—was the killer view of the Manhattan skyline.
Myron had wanted to go straight home. There was really nothing more to discuss now that they knew Lex was safe, but on the phone Suzze had seemed oddly needy. With some clients, coddling came with the territory. With Suzze, that had never been the case.
“Tell me what Lex said.”
“He’s with Gabriel recording some songs for their next album.”
Suzze stared at the Manhattan skyline through the summer mist. In her hand, she held a glass of what looked like wine. Myron was not sure what to say about that—pregnancy and wine—so he just kind of cleared his throat.
“What?” Suzze said.
Myron pointed at the wineglass. Mr. Subtle.
“The doctor says it’s fine to have one,” she said.
“Oh.”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not.”
She looked out at the skyline from the arch, her hands on her belly. “We’re going to need better guard rails up here. What with a baby on the way. I don’t even let drunk friends up here.”
“Good idea,” Myron said. She was stalling. That was okay. “Look, I don’t really know what’s up with Lex. I admit he’s acting a little weird, but he also made a convincing case that it’s not my business. You wanted me to find out if he was okay. I have. I can’t force him to come home.”
“I know.”
“So what else is there? I could keep looking into who posted the ‘Not His’ comment—”
“I know who posted that,” Suzze said.
That surprised him. He studied her face and when she didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Who?”
“Kitty.”
She took a sip of wine.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Who else would want that kind of payback?” she asked.
The humidity weighed on Myron like a heavy blanket. He looked at Suzze’s belly and wondered what it must be like to lug that around in this weather.
“Why would she want revenge on you?”
Suzze ignored the question. “Kitty was a great player, wasn’t she?”
“So were you.”
“Not like her. She was the best player I’d ever seen. I became a pro, won a few tournaments, had four year-end top ten finishes. But Kitty? She could have been one of the greats.”
Myron shook his head. “It would have never happened.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Kitty was a screwup. The drugs, the partying, the lies, the manipulation, the narcissism, the self-destructive streak.”
“She was young. We were all young. We all made mistakes.”
Silence.
“Suzze?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you want to see me tonight?”
“To explain.”
“Explain what?”
She came over to him, spread her arms, and hugged him. Myron held her tight, feeling the warm belly against him. He didn’t know if that was weird. But as the hug lasted, it started to feel good, therapeutic. Suzze lowered her head into Myron’s chest and stayed there for a while. Myron just held her.
Finally Suzze said, “Lex is wrong.”
“About?”
“Sometimes people do need help. I remember nights you saved me. You held me like this. You listened. You never judged me. Maybe you don’t know it, but you saved my life a hundred times.”
“I’m still here for you,” Myron said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She held on, keeping her ear against his chest. “Kitty and I were both about to turn seventeen. I wanted to win the juniors so badly that year. Get into the Open. Kitty was my top competition. When she beat me in Boston, my mother went crazy.”