group of strangers when not expecting it. As the gaggle of tourists cruised past, he quickly turned and saw Virgil sitting, as he’d expected, in a corner of the restaurant, waiting eagerly. And alone.
He stepped past the window and took a single deep breath.
The call will come any second now, Ricky thought. Merlin had delayed, just as he’d suspected he would. He’d have cleaned himself up, made his apologies to the other attorneys, all of whom had been shocked. What excuse had he come up with? Disgruntled opponent, bested in a lawsuit. The others could identify with that. He’d persuaded them all that calling the police was inappropriate, that he would contact the crazy man with the ink pistol’s attorney-maybe seek a restraining order. But he would handle it all himself. The other men would have nodded in agreement and offered to testify at any moment, or even provide statements to the police, if requested. But this had taken some time, as had getting himself cleaned up, because he knew, no matter what, he still had to be back in court that afternoon. When Merlin finally made his first call, it would be to the older brother. This would have been a substantial conversation, not merely recounting what had happened, but trying to assess the implications. They would analyze their position and begin to consider their alternatives. Finally, still unsure precisely what they wanted to do, they would hang up. Then, next in line for a second phone call, would be Virgil, but Ricky had beaten that call.
He smiled, turned around sharply and headed straight through the restaurant’s front door, moving swiftly. There was a hostess at the front, who looked up at him and began to ask the inevitable question, but he waved her off, saying, “My date is already here…” and striding quickly across the restaurant.
Virgil was turned away, then shifted when she sensed movement.
“Hello,” Ricky said. “Remember me?”
Surprise struck her face.
“Because,” Ricky said, sliding into his seat, “I remember you.”
Virgil said nothing, although she had rocked back in surprise. She had placed a portfolio of pictures and resume on the table in anticipation of the meeting with the producer. Now, slowly, deliberately, she took it and slipped it to the floor. “I guess I won’t be needing that,” she said. He heard two things in her reply: tentativeness and a need to regain some composure. They teach that in acting class, Ricky thought, and right now she’s reaching into that particular storage box, searching for it.
Before Ricky responded, a buzzing sound went off in her pocketbook. A cell phone. Ricky shook his head. “That would be your middle brother the lawyer calling to warn you that I appeared in his life this morning already. And there will be another call, soon enough, from the older brother who kills for a living. Because, he, too, will want to protect you. Don’t answer it.”
Her hand stopped.
“Or what?”
“Well, you should be asking yourself the question ‘How desperate is Ricky?’ and then the obvious follow-up: ‘What might he do?’ ”
Virgil ignored the phone, which stopped buzzing.
“What might Ricky do?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “Ricky died once. And now he might have nothing left to live for. Which would make dying a second time far less painful and perhaps even welcome, don’t you think?”
He looked hard at Virgil, scouring her with his gaze.
“I might just do anything.”
Virgil shifted uncomfortably. Every tone Ricky used was harsh. Uncompromising. He reminded himself that the strength in his performance that day was to be a different man from the one so easily manipulated and terrified into suicide a year earlier. This, he realized, wasn’t far from the truth.
“And so, unpredictability. Instability. A little manic streak, as well. Dangerous combination, no? A potentially volatile concoction.”
She nodded. “Yes. True.” She was regaining some of her elusive composure as she spoke, which is what he’d expected would happen. Virgil, he knew, was a very centered young woman. “But you’re not going to shoot me here in this restaurant in front of all these other people. I don’t think so.”
Ricky shrugged. “Al Pacino does. In
“Yes,” she said uneasily. “I remember.”
“But I like this restaurant. Once when I used to be Ricky, I came here with someone I loved, but whose presence I never really appreciated. And why would I want to ruin the fine luncheon these other folks have planned? But mostly, I don’t need to shoot you here, Virgil. I can shoot you any number of places. Because now I know who you are. I know your name. Your agency. Your address. But more important, I know who you want to become. I know your ambition. And from that, I can extrapolate your desires. Your needs. Do you think that now that I know who and what and where about you, that I cannot deduce whatever I need to know in the future? You could change your address. You could even change your name. But you cannot change who you are, nor who you want to become. And that’s the rub, isn’t it? You’re as trapped as Ricky was. And so is brother Merlin, a detail that he learned this morning quite messily. You played the game with me, once, knowing every step I would take and why. And now, I will play a new game with you.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a game called How Do I Stay Alive? It’s a game about revenge. I think you already know some of the rules.”
Virgil had paled. She reached for a glass of ice water, took a long sip, staring at Ricky.
“He’ll find you, Ricky,” she whispered. “He’ll find you and kill you and protect me- because he always has.”
Ricky leaned forward, like a priest sharing a dark secret in a confessional. “Like any older brother? Well, he can try. But, you see, now he knows next to nothing of who I have become. The three of you have been chasing around after Mr. Lazarus, and thinking that you had him cornered, what-once? Twice? Three times maybe? Did you think you missed him by seconds in the home of the one man who crossed both our paths the other night? But guess what? Poof! He’s about to disappear. Any second now, because he’s just about used up every little bit of usefulness in this life. But before he goes, perhaps he will tell whoever else it is I have lined up to become everything I will need to know about you and Merlin and now Mr. R. as well. And all that put together, well, Virgil, I think that makes me a very dangerous adversary.”
He paused, then added: “Whoever I am today. Whoever I might be tomorrow.”
Ricky leaned back, slightly, watching the words he spoke register on Virgil’s face. “What did you tell me, once, Virgil? About your chosen name? ‘Everyone needs a guide upon the road to Hell.’ ”
She took another long sip of water, nodding. “That’s what I said,” she replied softly.
Ricky smiled nastily. “I think you chose your words well,” he answered.
Then he rose sharply, pushing the chair back quickly.
“Goodbye, Virgil,” he said, leaning toward the young woman. “I think you will never want to see my face again, because then it might be the last thing you will ever see.”
Without waiting for her response, Ricky turned and walked briskly out of the restaurant. He did not need to see her hand shake, or her jaw quiver, though he knew these reactions were likely. Fear is an odd thing, he thought. It displays itself in so many external ways, but none is nearly as powerful as the blade it slices through the heart and stomach, or the current it puts into the imagination. He thought that for one reason or another much of his life had been spent being afraid of many things, a never-ending sequence of fears and doubts. But now he was delivering fear, and he wasn’t sure he didn’t like that sensation. Ricky let the noontime crowds absorb him, as he melted away from Virgil, leaving her behind, just as he had her one brother, trying to assess just what sort of danger they were truly in. Ricky cut swiftly through the throngs of people, dodging the bodies like a skater on a crowded rink, but his mind’s eye was elsewhere. He was trying to picture the man who’d once stalked him to perfect death. How, Ricky wondered, will the psychopath react, when the only two people left on this earth he truly holds dear have been threatened to their core.
