The front desk receptionist told me that he left in a hurry late last night. I asked him if he was with a blonde woman. He said he wouldn't know since she wore a headscarf. She was described as tall – about the same height as him – with a curvy figure and slim waist.
That was Victoria, all right.
"Mr. Ferguson left you a note, ma'am," the young man handed me a neatly folded piece of paper.
"Thank you," I said half-heartedly and anxiously opened the note.
Dear Annie, it read, it was with a heavy heart that I decided to leave the county. Due to the sudden nature of such a decision, I deeply regret my inability to bid you farewell. Until we see each other again, Neil.
I crumpled the note in my hand, nodded at the receptionist, and walked out of the hotel. On the way back to the Bel Air House, I wondered if Neil had caught wind that the Italians were coming for him or that Thomas had done something to him.
Then I thought there could be an opportunity waiting for me.
-----
Thomas leaned back in his chair when he saw me. As I walked up to him, the clacking sound of my heels echoed unpleasantly in his office.
He lifted his chin and seemed entertained. With a blank expression, I threw the crumpled paper at him, and it landed on his desk. He glanced over it, curled his lips, and flicked it. The note now lay on the floor.
"I won't read your private note," he said. I couldn't tell whether he was mocking me or being sincere. "So, he's gone."
"Did you do anything to him?" I asked.
"No," he denied the accusation.
"You've planned it all out, haven't you?"
He didn't answer. Amused, he put his feet up on the table. "Let me ask you something. Have you ever wondered how you got away to Chicago so easily?"
"Wesley said the Chang clan didn't think I was worthy of any trouble," I frowned.
"Did he tell you why?"
I shook my head.
"Because I bought you out that day," he said. The windows were open, and the noises from the street mixed in with the humming in my ears. "I planned to negotiate with Wesley the next day. I figured if he didn't have you to worry about, then he had nothing to keep him from leaving the Chang clan. The Lebedev family heard about this, and Ferguson acted quickly."
I fumbled the cigarette case out of my purse.
"The Changs held Wesley responsible for your misadventure," he said. "Though it was just an excuse to keep him where he was. The negotiation was off, and Wesley blamed himself for not handling you properly. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason he agreed to join the family. And I also wouldn't be surprised if he still feels guilty for things he's innocent of."
"I…" I was overwhelmed by emotions I didn't know I could have all at once. "I didn't know. Wesley never told me."
"You don't deserve to have him around the way you do," he said straightforwardly. "Which is why I've been trying to keep you away from him. Despite his past, Wesley Lee is not only a valuable asset to the family, but he's also a genuinely good-natured man. I want him for Emma because he'd be good for her. And she, being the most admirable of us all, deserves a kindhearted man. So, stay in your lane, will you?"
I was wrong this whole time. Nevertheless, I was right about something else. Thomas valued Wesley more than he valued me. I thought I'd be devastatingly upset, yet I felt an indescribable relief. I was never as important as I thought in this family.
So, what if I left? Would there really be any repercussions?
"I don't ever intend to meddle," I said honestly. Finally, I managed to strike a match and light up my cigarette.
-----
The door was ajar after a succession of sharp, quick knocks. The frightened barman stuck his head through the gap, too nervous about meeting my disapproving eyes.
"Mrs. Murphy," he swallowed. "Mr. Murphy is here."
"Which Mr. Murphy?" I asked without lifting my head.
"Mr. Lawrence Murphy," he answered carefully. "Should I send him in?"
"What a stupid question," I giggled. "Of course, you should send him in. And be a good man, fetch me another bottle of gin, will you?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said reluctantly. Glancing around the room, then at me. I could tell he wanted to intervene, but he knew he was in no position to do so.
The door closed. I sighed and slumped back into the couch only to immediately sit up and open the window above it. The air had turned stuffy and filled with smoke, and I could barely breathe. Carelessly, I reached for the half-smoked pack of cigarettes on the coffee table. My cigarette holder was lying open and empty next to the other two already smoked packs. I had to send the barman to get more. He didn't mind the leg work for how generously he was tipped, though that joy was cut in half when he coughed after entering the room with the latest pack.
Purposefully, I knocked over the ashtray while reaching for the pack. The ash spilled over the coffee table and fell all over the floor. I laughed as if it was entertainment. Eventually, I lit up a cigarette, held it between my fingers, rested my arm on the back of the couch, and lay down. I watched the smoke slowly rise and escape through the narrow opening of the window like it was the purest form of art.
The door opened once more, and Laurie stepped inside. The nosy barman whispered something into Laurie's ear with concern in his eyes, handed him the bottle I ordered, and closed the door.
"Laurie, darling," I turned to him with my arms open, "come."
He didn't smile or move like I wanted him to. Instead, he stood still with a frown.
"How much did you drink?" He asked broodingly, silently counting the bottles in front of me.
"I don't know," I laughed and extended my hand. "Give me the gin, please."
"Do you want to die?" He was stern and hid the bottle behind his back.
"I said please," I wasn't ready to give in. "Come, Laurie, sit with me."
"No," he remained solemn and still. "You're killing yourself if you keep on drinking."
"What's with that face?" I puckered my lips and struggled to sit up. "I guess I'll have to get it from you myself."
Standing up wasn't hard. I attempted to walk toward him straight, or that was the plan. The ground was solid, but he seemed so close and so far away at the same time. I made a step, and before I could make another, I sat down again.
"You can keep it," I flung my hand and puffed. "But the least you can do is sit next to me."
He sighed. After some hesitation, finally, he sat down next to me, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.
"Why are you doing this?" Though his body was tense and stiff, his tone softened: "You shouldn't drink like this."
"Not you too, telling me what I should or shouldn't do," I complained. "Leave me be once."
"You can't find the solution to your problems at the bottom of a bottle," he said philosophically, staring straight ahead.
"Aren't you fucking deep?" I pinched his hollow cheek, and he turned away. I started laughing again: "I don't know what to believe, whom to trust, or if my existence serves any purpose. Maybe I'm better off dead and buried."
"What's this nonsense?" He frowned and sounded concerned. "What happened?"
I told him the things I had learned and the secret I had discovered. I told him that I had never felt this used and manipulated. In a way, I wasn't a human being; I was a thing. A thing that had been passed around so that the others could get what they wanted from me.
"Don't talk like this," Laurie sounded distraught. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the forehead. After a pause, he continued in a more somber and calm tone: "Thomas wouldn't have told you all that for no reason. Even I know secrets are always best left untold in this family. Perhaps he wants you to leave. He wants us to leave. And that's a good thing, isn't it?"
I looked into his eyes and smiled.
"But now, you must get sober," he held my face in his palms and kissed me. "I don't like seeing you this way."
The moment was disrupted when the door was opened violently. Laurie's frown returned. I slothfully turned that way. Thomas stood there stone-faced, hands in his pockets, and the terrified barman was behind him with his head down.
I thought Laurie would move away from me, but he didn't. His arm was around my shoulders and held me even tighter. I leaned on him. His hair touched my face, and the cigarette was burning between my fingers.
"What brought you here?" I asked.
"To take you home," he said. "I can't let my wife waste away like this."
He was staring straight at Laurie when he said this. He sounded threatening.
"Oh please," I rolled my eyes. I didn't move.
"Anne, get up. We should go," Thomas said, directing at me this time. "The car is waiting outside. You need to go home and sober up."
"What about you then?" I sneered and raised my voice without a care. "Where are you going? To Angelino Heights? To Mildred Brown, I reckon. Don't pretend you care about me just so you can tell me what to do. I know you'll ask the driver to take me back to that doomed empty house, put me in bed, and lock me in solitude until you think I'm sober, whatever that means to you."
"Never let her have this much to drink again," he turned to the barman, who nodded repeatedly. Focusing on me again, he said: "Don't make a scene. Get up. You're leaving."
"Fine," I threw my hands and angrily put out my cigarette against the side of the upside-down ashtray, pushing it further away in the process. Once more, I struggled to stand up and attempted to walk straight. It didn't take long before I hit the corner of the coffee table and tripped. Sitting on the hard floor, I giggled at my clumsiness. I reached for Thomas, but he stood there with his lips pursed and didn't move an inch. With my arm still extended at Thomas, I turned my head to Laurie. The look on his face was somber, too somber for me to comprehend. After a few seconds, I saw him shaking his head before coming to help me up.
"Thomas," he said carefully but determinedly while keeping me upright. "It's better if Anne comes with me. She'll stay in The Charmont until she's sober."
Thomas squinted, then smacked his lips. He took a step closer to Laurie.
"I don't think you understand your place," he pointed at his brother. "I have no problem in pretending to be oblivious. But what do you think it'll do to the family if people see you with my wife in broad daylight?"
"Why do you care?" Laurie scoffed. He wasn't deterred and held me still. "You've been seen with Mildred Brown around all hours of the day."
"Lawrence, you're crossing the line," Thomas grasped my arm and yanked me away from Laurie like an object.
"It amazes me how hypocritical and unpleasant you can be," Laurie scoffed. Fury was in his long-lashed but no longer innocent eyes. "And it undoubtedly takes a special, autocratic man to dictate his family's life and happiness. Anne is coming with me. And you won't do anything to stop it."
This was the first time I heard Laurie speaking to his brother in this tone. I was sure it was the first time for Thomas, too, for he seemed to freeze in a stupor. It wasn't hard for Laurie to get me from Thomas' grip. Carefully and gently, Laurie took my hand and wrapped my arm around his waist while he held onto my shoulder.
Thomas watched us leave without saying a word. When the door closed, be it fact or my wild imagination, I saw the blankness on his face change into a pleased and ominous smirk.