The Ultimate Good Luck

13

AT THE BUNGALOW he went straight to the money. The tiles were in place, and the grouting was firmed. It seemed too obvious a trick to pull, though he wasn’t exactly sure, here, if he could recognize the obvious. But the tiles made him feel like he could trust Bernhardt, since if Bernhardt had wanted the money this would’ve been the easy way.

Rae sat on the davenport in the dark. He turned off the bathroom light and stood in the doorway where he could see out the window down the hill. The place he had been was straight off, beyond the Centro lights, below the distinguishable dark of Monte Albán. It was a place that didn’t exist now.

“Did you think somebody was going to steal your money?” she said. She was calm, as though things were all happening to somebody else.

“There’s that chance,” he said.

“Are you worried?” Rae said. She shifted her weight on the davenport.

“Not yet,” he said. There wasn’t any reason to think anything but that Bernhardt was getting Sonny out of the joint. Sonny either got out or he didn’t. Quinn wondered what Deats was doing, what was happening to him at that very moment.

“Is Bernhardt worried?” she said.

“He’s not a worrier,” Quinn said.

“It scares me,” Rae said, though her voice sounded encouraged. “I don’t want it to. I don’t want to be scared. Isn’t that ridiculous? I just got here.” She got off the davenport and came and put her arms around him in the dark. “Do I look desperate?” she said.

He could feel her staring back into the darkness of the bedroom, her breathing shallow. “Not right now,” he said.

“One of those boys in town asked me if I wanted to fuck him,” she said sadly. “I told him no. But it made me feel lonely. Isn’t that strange? I wasn’t even mad at him. And then it made me feel scary.” Her hair smelled sweet and thick.

“That’s how you know you’re grown up,” Quinn said. “What used to make you mad makes you lonely. You find out you can’t change anything.” She wanted something, he knew, to make her feel better. “He was probably in love with you and couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

She put her cool hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t like that,” she said softly. “It’s not funny.” She was quiet a minute while she held him. It made him feel safe. “I didn’t know if you’d come down here for me,” she said. “I was afraid to call you. I’m sorry it’s awful.”

“It’s gotten better.” He put his arms around her. The measure of her ribs seemed almost too delicate and insubstantial to be actual.

“I’ll tell you my secrets,” she said, close to him. “Do you want to know? I’ve never told you.”

“Some other time,” he said. He put his fingers up in her hair where it was warm.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” she said. His eyes wandered in the night sky. He didn’t think he had a secret now. “I hate it,” she said. “Nothing’s worse than secrets to me.”

He didn’t want to think about that. He shut his eyes. His father used to say you didn’t have to tell everyone everything, secrets were just ancient history. And he believed that. He thought there were a lot worse things to keep than secrets.