Page 56 of Love at First Sighting
“Wow. You know, I might go by Alaka-Sam, too, if that were my name.” She blushes and giggles. “Anyway, I think we might even be able to find something in here that gives us a hint.”
I begin looking around, starting with some of the papers on one of the vanities. They look to be bills and programming for the party. Models, servers, meals, condoms.
I move on to the gifts. There are huge coffee table books—one of liquors from around the world, another of brutalist architecture, and another of flowers that look like vaginas—but none of those things are clues.
El digs into a cellophane-wrapped basket and snags a couple of chocolates from inside, passing one to me. She bites into the truffle. “For my troubles.”
I look inside a gift bag and find a bedazzled snorkeling mask, a fountain pen with another tech company’s name on it, rocks glasses made of some kind of crystal. These are all gifts people give to make a point. Not a care in the world, just money.
“Carter?” El says quietly. She sounds like she’s seen a ghost, and she turns to me to raise a gift box. It’s a silver cigar tin with a note and ribbon attached to it. I take the box and El steps closer to me.
I flip open the card and read.
Ian,
Shame to have to miss the party, but congrats on the launch! We will have to break into these when I see you in a few weeks.
Marcus
Before I can extrapolate how many Marcuses Ian knows, I feel sick. Iknowit’s Marcus’s handwriting because I taught myself to forge it when I was thirteen. Not for illegal purposes, but so I didn’t get left behind on field trips when he forgot to sign the permission slips. I know the jagged shapes of his letters, near chicken scratch, and the way theUbleeds into theSat the end of his name.
“I know it could be another Marcus,” El begins. “It’s not a totally uncommon name. But we know there’s achancethey could know each other.”
“No,” I cut her off. “You’re right. It’s not another Marcus. This is his handwriting.”
El rests a hand on top of mine. Her proximity is a balm to the betrayal I’m trying not to feel. From the moment we found the photo of my dad, Marcus, and Howard Forte at the archive, I’ve been afraid of where the compass might point.
“They clearly know each other, but…sending cigars to someone doesn’t mean you’re committing crimes with them,” I struggle out. I don’t know how much I even believe my own words, but the part of me that’s afraid to have no one at all clings to it desperately. I’ve never doubted that PIS has woven its way into some shady corners. It’s an entire division created on dishonesty and lies. I never doubted that my dad or Marcus had to do things they weren’t proud of. EvenIhave. For the first time, I’m worried maybe Marcus and my dad swung too hard to the other side. It doesn’t mean it’s all connected, I try to remind myself.
I am terrified of saying the wordsMarcus is the only family I have, because it’s becoming more and more obvious I’ve given him credit for so much and am getting the bare minimum inreturn. There’s a voice in the back of my head, yelling, but muffled, telling me I deserve better.
“Hey,” El says, turning and resting her hands on my shoulders. “We don’t know what this means yet. Lots of dudes give other dudes cigars.”
I swallow my fear as she brings a hand to my cheek. Her brown eyes are big and pleading, like she’s desperate to know how to fix this. El brushes her thumb along the slant of my cheekbone and her touch is so hypnotic I want to lean in and let her know her presence alone solves so much.
“We have to keep looking, right?” she whispers.
“We have to keep looking.” I shake myself out of my trance and step away. “Marcus keeps a calendar on his desk. We can see when this meeting is.”
“Do you think he’d mark that down?”
“We won’t know until we look,” I say. I slide out my phone and snap a picture of the letter. Just in case. I want to have a paper trail. “If we Uber to the Nest, I’ll pick up my car and we can head over to the office. I’ll have sobered up enough by then.”
“Can I evengoto your office?”
“In theory, no, but I run the camera system, so who’s going to find out? No one’s going to be there on a Saturday night. We’ll be in and out.”
El looks somewhat enthused by the idea of breaking the rules. “Okay, that works. I think we’re safe to ditch this party.”
El wraps her manicured fingers around my wrist and pulls me toward the door, pushing the small table out of the way. There are voices on the other side—too close. Then the door jolts. Shit, shit, shit. Ian Forte is going to waltz his little Keebler Elf loafers back in here and catch us in the act. I don’tknow what he’ll do, but I’ll probably be kicked out of Houdini House forever, which might be a shame. Idolike magic shows. And I like seeing El in this sparkling gown even more.
“Damn,” she hisses, pushing back on the door. “Um…uh…What are we doing in here?”
“We got lost looking for the bathroom?”
“Together?” she snaps.
“Not the weirdest place I’ve been with a woman.”
