Page 88 of Twice
I saw her wince. Just slightly. But I saw it. A resistance? A repulsion? I had never seen that look before. My insides collapsed.
She hooked her hands together and dropped them in her lap.
“Alfie,” she said, “we need to talk...”
But we didn’t need to. I already knew. Yaya had been right.If you change your mind, your first love will never love you again.
Gianna was gone.
Nassau
LaPorta hurried past the shooting fountains and into the casino, moving briskly past the blackjack tables and the clanging slot machines. He’d hated enduring the Nassau traffic again, but he needed to run the footage past Toussaint, the dealer who was first approached about the roulette scheme.
He unlocked the security office and saw two officers leaning against the wall, while Toussaint sat in a folding chair, chomping nervously on a piece of gum.
“Look at this,” LaPorta said, pushing the iPad under his gaze. “Which one of these is the guy who approached you?”
Toussaint didn’t hesitate.
“This man here.”
LaPorta threw his head back in frustration. The ex-husband. Mike.
“That’sthe guy with the earring you were talking about?”
“Yes.”
“Not this guy?”
He pointed to Alfie, sitting at the table. Toussaint squinted.
“I don’t know this man.”
“Ahhh, damn it!”
LaPorta banged his fist so hard on the table, Toussaint bounced in his seat.
“I want this footage circulated to every security personhere!” LaPorta yelled at the guards. “We need to find this guy fast. His name is Mike Kurtz. American. Move!”
The two guards rose quickly and LaPorta followed them out. Five minutes later, he was back in the squad car, returning to Gianna Rule, who at that very moment was hunched over a ballroom table, reading a notebook, with a hand on her mouth and tears coming down her face.
?
Alfie, now in handcuffs, was led down a corridor inside Fox Hill Prison. The walls were painted beige on top and dark green on the bottom, and oversized fans blew from the ceiling, creating a constant rumble. As the island’s only correctional facility, the place was divided into maximum, medium, and minimum-security sections.
A guard directed him to the receiving desk, where Alfie stood as his papers were processed. He eyed a nearby emergency exit and took note of the security cameras’ placements. The officer behind the desk wore a sand-colored uniform. He made a copy of Alfie’s passport, then pointed to where the guard was to take him next.
“Excuse me,” Alfie said. “But I am allowed a phone call under Bahamian law, right?”
The officer sighed.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“I’d like to make it now, please.”
“To family only, or your embassy.”
“Understood.”
