The Italian restaurant brings back both happy and sad memories as I sit at one of the tables, waiting for Vanessa to show up. I have the money she is demanding in cash. But I won't be giving it to her. I have better plans for her.
"Hola," the head chef, popularly known for his delicacies, approaches me with a smile, "What about the girls?"
"They're good."
"I haven't been seeing y'all around for your weekly hang out." he chats in his thick Italian accent.
I try as much as I can to avoid his gaze when I answer, "We've been busy."
"Hmm."
The sound doesn't sit well with me because I know it's coming from a place of gossip, rather than of concern. I choose to ignore it, going ahead to order a plate of my favourite pasta.
Vanessa sashays into the restaurant an hour later, offering a fake apology about traffic.
"So… Do you have it?"
I bring out the envelope and hand it over to her. But before she could grab it, I say, "I can triple the offer for you if you do me a favour."
She shoots me a skeptical gaze, "What's that?"
I go ahead to tell her about the FBI contacting me and threatening to send me to jail if I don't confess about Micheal's shady business.
With the way her eyes are widening, I know that my lies are working perfectly well.
"I just don't…" I sniff back the fake tears, "I don't know what to do."
"Calm down Ms. Samantha."
"What should I do? Have they approached you?"
Her eyes dart back and forth, looking everywhere but at me. As if guilty of something. "No. No, they didn't."
"But can you help me?"
Her eyebrows furrow, "You want me to help you snitch on Micheal?"
"Ma'am, are these sizes okay?" The housekeeper asks, motioning at the carrots she is chopping later that evening for dinner.
My phone starts ringing, interrupting the correction I'm about to give her.
"Sir," I say into the phone after shutting the library door behind me.
"Sarah, you're very useless! You're so useless!"
"What's that supposed to mean Mr. Dave?"
"Your dear husband has strike again. Do you know that?"
My hand goes to my throbbing temples to massage it.
But he continues, lashing out every vile word he could think of at me. He did all these without telling me what Micheal did.
"Ma'am."
I turn to the door. The housekeeper gasps on seeing my face.
"What is it ma'am? Did something happen to Mr Bavarish?"
I flash a fake smile at her, "There's no problem dear. I'm just talking to my friend."
She blinks back, as if stunned by my stupid lie.
"But you're crying, ma'am."
My hand goes to my cheeks and I realize that she is right. I have been crying and didn't even know.
"I'm just…"
I lower my gaze to the floor.
"Do you need a hug ma'am?"
My body countenance tells her the answer. She closes the short space between us and gives me a motherly hug.
I cling to her and let the tears flow. My sobs echoing in the room and beyond.
"I need your help." I say to Chloe the next day when she opens her front door.
She reluctantly invites me in.
"What's up?" She says on settling at the other end of her long couch, giving enough space between us.
"I need you to help me talk to Natasha."
She scoffs. "Already fighting with your loyal bestie?"
The way she exaggerates 'Loyal' tells me all I need to know about how she still feels about the accusation.
"I'm so sorry."
I can see her green eyes softening. She exhales harshly before asking, "What exactly are you apologizing for?"
I swallow hard. "For accusing you."
"You mean for not trusting me enough?"
She suddenly scoots closer and bursts into tears. "Why would you think so low of me, Sarah? How could you ever imagine that I would do something so drastic to you? Jeopardize your career?"
"I'm so sorry, Chloe."
"No you're not! You're just here because you fell off with your best friend!"
She's right. Natasha and I were closer, even though she has been the one coming through for me for as long as I could remember.
Not knowing what else to say, I mutter, "Please forgive me."
The look she sends my way tells me that even though she is not yet ready to forgive me, she has no other option but to do it.
My chest still feels dry as I drive back to the mansion. I feel too exhausted to continue with this job. I'm also tired of the tears. But I can't give up, because I've come a long way. I need to finish with this task. And I need to finish strong.
Just then, I remember what my dad usually says whenever he is having one of his relapses.
"Tough times don't last, but tough people do."
I somehow find the words encouraging. It is what I need to hear at this point in my life. If I strive hard just for a little longer, maybe I will get to that end. Maybe Micheal will finally confess. Maybe I'll still get that promotion.
Micheal surprises me with a long hug on seeing me walk into the bedroom.
What's the excitement all about? Does he have anything to do with the insults Dave threw at me yesterday?
"Hey," I say, peeping closely at his face, "You look so happy today."
"I am, baby. Business is going really really well."
Of course it is. It strikes me then how one person's source of joy could be another's source of pain.
If only I could get that confession off him, maybe the situation will reverse. I might not know everything, but I'm quite sure that I deserve to be happy. And the only thing that will make me happy is seeing Micheal locked up behind bars, while Dave and Officer Daniels pat me on the shoulders for a job well done.
"Can I ask you something?"
Micheal's head tilts, a confused look shadowing his face. But he reluctantly says, " Go on."
Are you a drug dealer?