The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [62]
He glared at me as if I’d said something ridiculous, but I wasn’t about to fall into the trap of defending myself when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I let ten long seconds tick past and then tried to move beyond his accusation.
“So, what do you think Alex’s relationship with Theresa Roxas means?”
He shot his cuffs and began straightening the tiny golden pigs he wore as cuff links. The pigs were a signature item, a reminder of the old Wall Street aphorism that bulls and bears make money but pigs get slaughtered. The fussing was a familiar signal that his mind was at work, and I took advantage of the break to resume my previous seat.
“I think it means that Senator Simpson—or more probably Clifford White, on the senator’s behalf—reached an arrangement with Alex behind my back,” he said calmly, when the links were perfectly aligned.
“What kind of arrangement?”
“I have no idea. And your failure to keep me properly informed means that I’ll likely have difficulty finding out.”
“Sorry,” I said, hoping a generic apology might prevent another flare-up. I wasn’t in the mood for histrionics. “What can I do to help?”
“You’ve done quite a lot for this family already. I have only one more favor to ask.”
“Name it.”
“I want you to pack up your stuff, get the hell out of my office, and never come back.”
19
I was sitting at my desk ten minutes later, feeling poleaxed, when a message from a friendly client popped up on my screen: Hearing Cobra terminated your contract because Walter thinks you’re untrustworthy. What the hell is going on?
I reached for my keyboard and then stopped, realizing that nothing I wrote would make any difference. It was true if Walter said it, and plainly he had. Short-term, I had nothing to worry about. My clients weren’t lemmings; most would stick with me, if only because I’d been so hot recently. But they’d be more standoffish, so as not to offend Walter, and because something like this would give me a bad smell. Long-term, my relationships would deteriorate, and I’d get more cancellations. A year or two hence I might well be out of business. I sat quiet for a second, thinking about it.
The truth was that I didn’t give a damn. I could always make money. Alex’s death was a wake-up call, a reminder that the only important thing in my life was the people I loved. I picked up my phone and dialed home, tired of being clever. I’d come right out and tell Claire I knew about her audition in San Francisco, and make her understand that I’d do anything to be with her—that I loved her and couldn’t be happy without her.
“Hello?” she answered.
“It’s Mark. You busy?”
“I’m heading over to the hospital in a few minutes. I have rehearsals all day. Why? Is everything okay?”
“Not really. I need to talk to you.”
She was silent for a moment, and I wondered what she was thinking.
“Come early tonight. Before the reception. I’ll meet you in the Pediatric Pavilion at five o’clock.”
“I love you.”
“Five o’clock,” she repeated distantly. “There are some things I need to talk to you about as well.”
20
I took a minute to pull myself together and then buzzed Amy. She opened the door a few seconds later, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
“You heard?”
She nodded.
“What happened? Is it something to do with Alex?”
“In a way. It’s a long story. I’m not completely sure how things are going to shake out for me yet, but I’ll be leaving here immediately. You need to think about your own situation. I’d love it if you came with me, but I understand completely if you’d rather explore other options. You know what kind of reference I’ll give you. It’s your decision.”
“‘If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small,’” she said, attempting a smile. “Proverbs. I’ll stay with you.”
“Thanks,” I said, touched by her loyalty. “I appreciate the confidence. How quick do you think we can get some cardboard boxes up here?”
“The warehouse just dropped off a stack. I was getting ready to purge