and its glittering reflection on the Caribbean.
“So did you discover the subtle allure of scarification, or get into a slapfight with Edward Scissorhands, or what?” he asked.
“Some of it’s shrapnel from a mortar attack,” I said with studied casualness, “some from being chased through the Colombian jungle by narco-terror paramilitaries.”
“Right.”
I didn’t say anything. It felt good to be able to one-up Jesse in tales of international adventure for once. I was suddenly proud, almost glad, of the harrowing days I had barely survived.
“Wait,” he said, “you’re not serious, are you?”
“Serious as a heart attack. As an AK-47.”
He half-smiled, still not sure if I was bullshitting, and we fell into our own arch and stylized private dialect. “Really. But not too serious, I presume. I mean, not as serious as a Cure song.”
“Au contraire. At least that serious. I would venture to say, Mr. Ruby, that I am as serious as Mr. Spock.”
“You don’t say.”
“I just did.”
“I must admit, Mr. Kowalski, you do sound very serious indeed. Almost as serious as Scotland Yard’s Serious and Organized Crime Squad.”
I tried to think of a simile to top that, and failed. “Yes. As serious as that. But not as organized.”
“No. Clearly.” He hesitated, then gave in. “So what the fuck?”
I told him the short version. I really wanted to tell him everything, including that we had been sent to investigate him. He was my oldest friend, and there in his presence the notion of Jesse being in bed with drug dealers seemed about as likely as him secretly being a space alien. It felt like utter betrayal not to tell him that he and his girlfriend were suspects. But I was much less sure of Anya’s innocence, and this didn’t seem like the time to ask Jesse to choose between loyalties, so I omitted the aspersions that had been cast on the two of them.
While I spoke I kept a sharp eye on his reaction. It was hard to measure, even though I’d known him for almost twenty years. He expostulated regularly, with genuine amazement, but I could also tell that he was listening to my tale as something relevant to his life, was drawing mental connections between it and things he already knew.
“Whoa,” he said when I was done. “Dude. Holy shit. That’s crazy. Hardcore, man.” He shook his head, astounded. “Fucking hardcore.”
I basked in his awe. “Yeah.”
“Well. I hope you don’t find our hospitality insanely boring by comparison.”
“I kind of hope I do. I could use some boring right now.”
“I bet. So.” He paused. “Other than your recent harrowing near-death experiences, how’s things?”
I knew he meant Sophie; he had noticed the tension between us. “Pretty good, I guess. I don’t know. Ask me in another couple weeks, actually. I just got a pretty hefty dose of perspective out of what happened, and I’m… sort of rethinking a lot of things. Mostly in a good way,” I added hastily. “How about you?”
“Oh, you know. Blissfully perspective-free.”
I chuckled.
“No, I lie, getting away from clubs and parties and all that shit has actually been really good. Living on a boat makes you feel pretty small. Especially during storms. Not like getting chased through jungle by guys with guns, but still, kind of makes you think about what matters.” He smiled ruefully. “Shit, it’s like we’re growing up or something.”
“Perish the thought, Mr. Ruby, perish the thought.”
But he was right. This was already one of the the most meaningful discussions Jesse and I had ever had. Usually our conversations consisted of in-jokes, tech-talk, goofy spirals of increasingly implausible speculation, and sardonic discussion of books, movies, video games, ideas and events. We never talked about feelings.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “The other point of view is that I ran away from the real world to live on a boat in the Caribbean with awesome bleeding-edge technology and the world’s hottest girlfriend. How cool is that?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
“How’s Sophie doing?” he tried again.
“She’s fine,” I said shortly. “How about Anya?”
He nodded, accepting my evasion. “Good. She’s good. She’s really sweet.”
I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows.
“Anya can be kind of standoffish at first,” he admitted. “Artifact of her upbringing. She had kind of a weird adolescence, she’s used to everybody wanting something from her all the time. But under that, once she drops her shields, she’s a lot different than she might seem.”
“Would it be wrong of me to say ‘good’?”
He laughed. “No.”
A silence fell. We emptied our beers.
“Well. I’m beat.” I had been awake for only twelve hours, but it was true. My body was still recuperating from Colombia. “See you in the morning?”
“Bright and early.”
Back in our cabin, the lights were already out, and Sophie lay curled in a berth, but I could tell from her breath that she was asleep. I selected a different berth, undressed, slipped under the covers and closed my eyes. Neither of us spoke.
I wanted to wallow in self-pity. My girlfriend had been keeping terrible secrets from me, maybe for years, because she didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. I was the wronged one here, the wounded party, the victim.
But as good as it felt to be a martyr, it was shallow and childish. Whatever she was keeping from me seemed more like a terrible burden than a juicy secret. She had apologized for how she sometimes acted. She was going to try to do better. And I was the one who had jumped wrongly to the conclusion that she was cheating. We both deserved better. I owed it to her, to us, to give her another chance. At least until I found out what she was hiding.
“Sophie?” I said into the darkness.
For a second I thought she would feign sleep. Then she said, voice taut, “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
She hadn’t expected that. “About what?”
“I don’t know. Everything. Being a jerk.”
“You’re not being a jerk. It’s… I’m sorry too.”
“It’s OK,” I said, and meant it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“If you want to.” But I didn’t. I was exhausted. “Maybe tomorrow? Or when we get back? I mean, the important thing is just, I’m sorry.”
“OK.”
“OK.”
A long moment passed.
“Can I come over?” she asked, in that little girl’s voice.
“Of course.”
She padded over, slipped under my covers and on top of me. The berth wasn’t really designed for two, but I didn’t care. It was so good to feel her naked body against mine again, to hear her purr like a cat as we held each other.
Her hands slipped down my body as her lips found mine. For a moment I hesitated. Then I kissed back, and pressed myself against her. The space was so tiny that we first had to roll onto our sides before I could go on top. Sophie alternated between giggles and gasps as we moved against each other to find a position that worked, it was like being teenagers in a car.
The sex that followed was raw, animal and violent, totally unlike us. She raked my back with her fingernails while I pulled at twisted fistfuls of her hair and she made guttural animal noises, heedless of her head thumping against the wall, I had to cup one hand around it to protect it. Afterwards we lay naked and sweat-soaked in one another’s arms, both a little stunned by the primal carnality that had just possessed us, lost together in a
